thinking about ... mingi and how easily he breaks under your touch .ᐟ
the shift from "big bad wolf" to "needy adorable chick" happens the exact moment your fingers meet the nape of his neck.
MINGI is massive as he occupies the whole bed, his broad and muscular chest heavy against yours as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. between his size and that naturally intimidating aura he carries in public, anyone else would think he’s the one in control.
but right now, he’s just your oversized, drowsy boy, melting into the mattress with his lower half settled snugly between your thighs.
"mmh… baby, keep doing that," he rumbles, the deep vibration of his voice buzzing directly against your collarbone.
you smile, dragging your nails down the broad expanse of his back. it doesn't matter if you just got a fresh nail set or if they’re long or short, almond or square shape — your boyfriend is utterly obsessed with the way you touch him. your fingertips trace the dip of his spine, the sharp nails catching just enough to leave light red tracks across his warm skin. you keep the pace slow, steady, and mesmerizing, fully intending to put the big guy straight to sleep. but then, the rhythm of his breathing changes.
instead of softening into slumber, mingi lets out a ragged hitch of a breath. his hips give a sudden twitch, pressing his heavy and semi-hard erection right against your lower stomach.
"mingi," you tease softly, dragging your nails just a little deeper, tracing a circle near his lower back. "i thought you were tired."
"i was," he whines, and god, the contrast of that deep voice making such a pathetic, high-pitched sound is enough to make your own pussy ache. lifting his head, eyes tired but full of hunger and neediness. "your hands... they just feel too good. please…"
he doesn't wait, because the impatient side of him takes over. mingi reaches down, blindly fumbling with his sweatpants and shoving them past his hips, freeing himself. he’s too desperate, but pins your wrists above your head for a second, kissing you messily, before he shudders and slides one hand back down to grip your thighs and pull down your shorts. positioning himself, the already leaking tip of his cock brushing against your entrance.
"ah, fuck, wait– " mingi gasps, his entire body locking up. you choose that exact moment to break one hand free from his loose grip, reaching up to bury your nails firmly into the meat of his shoulder, dragging them down his back like a cat scratching on a wooden door.
the stimulation is an instant overload. mingi lets out a breathy whimper, his back arching slightly, and before he can even push himself inside you, his body betrays him. a thick rope of semen shoots out, painting your lower abdomen and the space between you in hot and messy spurts.
he collapses instantly, his forehead dropping heavily against your shoulder as he pants, completely spent and trembling from head to toe.
"oh," you blink, feeling the mess he just made, then up at his burning and completely flushed face. "well, that was fast."
"s-shut up," mingi groans, hiding his face in your neck out of pure embarrassment, though his hips still twitch weakly against yours. "it’s your fault... you shouldn't have scratched me like that."
you just chuckle, wrapping your arms back around his massive frame and dragging your cat-like claws gently over his lower back again. he lets out another tiny, defeated whine, completely at your mercy.
"come on, big boy," you tease, a low laugh vibrating in your chest as you nudge his hip. "you're not giving up on me already, are you? you didn't even last a minute."
mingi groans, his entire face burning red against your neck. he tries to hide, whining at the playful mockery, but you aren't done. sliding your hand up his back, your fingers curling as you dig firmly into the thick muscle of his shoulder. it’s a silent demand, pressing him right against where you need him the most.
"you can't just leave me like this, mingi. look at the mess you made." you drag your nails downward, making him shiver. "let's give it a retry before i tell the boys how you won't participate in no nut november, again.”
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, LOU <3 i wish you all the best, i love you so much and i hope you will have the greatest birthday ever !! @way2jellyous never stop being an icon twinski *explodes into confetti*
SAN gets off the thought of his pretty and sweet girlfriend being fucked and ruined by his best friend, WOOYOUNG.
hiding from you in the bathroom, when it's the middle of the night, while you are sleeping under his covers. you don't know that he jerks off more often now, because fuck, he can't stop imagining it. diamond-like tears in your eyes, spilling down on your soft cheeks, as his best friend takes control over your body.
san knows exactly how wooyoung'd tease you, how he’d push your buttons, and pull reactions out of you that your boyfriend himself can't... gosh, the idea of you coming apart under someone else’s hands makes something twist in his chest.
images clear as day flash of you being fucked dumb, and crying out two names, when you are being devilishly stretched out for the very first time by another man's cock. while san's going to be fisting his, watching, helpless and aroused all at once, torn between wanting to stop it and wanting to join.
thinking about you being stuffed full of his best friend's cum, and before he knows it, your boyfriend cums in his hand, white drops falling on the floor. heart racing like it's going to run away on its own, breathing heavily, and it’s not even the act itself that gets him — it’s you.
because when he crawls back into bed beside you, all clean, slipping an arm around your waist and pressing his face into your hair, he looks like the kind of man anyone would trust without question. but beneath that softness is a mind that doesn’t rest, having fantasies he locks away behind sweet smiles and soft touches.
kissing your shoulder as if he isn’t hiding a thousand twisted thoughts behind closed eyes, as if perfection hasn’t learned how to wear love like a mask. san wonders how long he can resist sending wooyoung a risky text to come over tonight.
whinybf!san who’s version of asking for a kiss is just - hovering. face very close to yours. waiting. if you don’t notice fast enough he makes a small noise to get your attention.
whinybf!san hates arguments, dissolving into teary apologies the second things heat up. "i'm sorry, i didn't mean it... don't be mad at me, please?" san drops to his knees, hands sliding up your thighs, using his charm to make it up to you. his lips brushing your sensitive spots until forgiveness comes naturally.
whinybf!san who asks for cuddles, but you (knowing that he wants to take a nap) deny him his cuddle time. he whines, eventually convincing you to get in the bed “just for ten minutes.” not even five minutes into it, you start to hear faint snores. his arm is wrapped firmly around your waist, and you successfully fell into his nap trap.
whinybf!san runs warm and always wants to be touching you when he sleeps. throws a leg over you, arm across your hip, face pressed into your neck. if you shift away in your sleep he follows without waking up. every time.
whinybf!san who’s emotional side amps up when he is tipsy, rambling about how much he loves you while pawing at your clothes. "you're the only one who gets me... don't ever leave, okay?" his somewhat slurred whines turn into passionate grips, pulling you into sloppy makeouts that escalate quickly.
whinybf!san holds your hand and squeezes it with a random rhythm that he made up, expecting you to squeeze his hand back. when you don’t, he pulls his hand away and fake pouts until you squeeze him again.
content: orgasm torture, power imbalance, dumbification, objectification
wc: 1.8k
thinking about yunho...
“nobody’s coming to save you, baby.”
you’re wailing at this point. shaking, sobbing. completely at his mercy, or rather lack thereof.
the nda was signed, your nerves were alight with excitement, with nervousness. with an overwhelming sense of pride over the fact that out of all the beautiful faces in the crowd, he chose you.
the journey to the hotel, the blurring letters of the non-disclosure you hardly even read. the look of pity the managers gave you when the elevator shut in their faces as they sent you upstairs to your inevitable destruction.
you, of course, did not know yunho. fans had their speculations about who he was behind closed doors and when the cameras shut off. the onstage persona he thrived in was a second skin he wore that had you swooning in the crowd. you had felt crazy every time his eyes swept over the crowd and always seemed to snag on you. you were sure it was just your typical case of fangirl delusion, but even when you weren’t looking at him, you felt him.
you knew you weren’t crazy. or maybe you did. when the concert was over, you were pulled aside by managers and men in suits. when you were led to a black van near the back of the venue, you sat in silence with strangers as they drove. you had to be dreaming; you felt clocked out of your brain during the entire exchange.
when they wished you luck and offered you a chance to leave. to forget this ever happened and to go home. you did not take it, and you wished you had.
yunho was cruel.
when you first stepped into his hotel room, expensive and cold, he was sitting on the plush chair in the corner, fiddling with the cross necklace that hung off his strong neck.
your breath caught in your throat when you saw him, beautiful and domineering. when he turned to look at you, you almost fled the room. but he stood and strode over to you carefully, like he could sense the fear that rushed through your blood.
and it excited him so much.
he reached out his hand and watched as you flinched away, your lips parted in surprise as his finger traced the slope of your nose, like you couldn’t believe he was real, that he was touching you. he smiled, and with a jerk of his hand, he gripped your jaw tightly, roughly, controlling. your eyes shook, and you swallowed as he squeezed your cheeks, biting his bottom lip and grinning when your pretty little lips puckered.
he’d make you believe, and he’d make you regret agreeing to come up here.
“keep squirming, and i'm gonna fuck you until your cunt goes numb.” it didn’t matter if you listened to him; he was going to do it anyway.
legs spread, pussy stuffed full, hands bound above your head with the very belt that he wore onstage that night. inflamed skin littered with bites, bruises, spit, and maybe a little blood.
his right hand held a small vibrating wand to your clit, while his left shoved its fingers down your throat. the smooth head of his cock dragged against your g-spot in a way that had you spiraling, rough, deep, rude thrusts into your abused cunt, the wand on your clit on the highest setting, the fingers in your mouth curling down against your tongue, the indents of your teeth clearly showing on the skin of his knuckles.
“so fuckin’ easy,” he groans, his throat bobbing when he lets his head fall back, mouth falling open in a deep growl. his hips moved at a punishing pace, determined to mold his shape into you with how hard he was fucking you.
tears stained with eyeliner and mascara ran down your cheeks, the makeup you put so much thought into smeared all over your face like it was all it was good for. your entire body would not stop shaking, your moans broken and staccato, each stroke of yunho’s insanely long cock making your ribcage shake under your skin.
“y-yun- ah! oh god, hurts,” you cried out, words slurring around his fingers. you hear him laugh above you, leaning down and glaring into your eyes.
“she speaks!” he teases, punishing you with a rough thrust up into you, and you choke. “hurts so good, doesn’t it, tiny?” he pouts and mocks you, chastely kissing the side of your throat as he abandons the wand at your side for a moment.
the loss of stimulation on your clit feels relieving, giving you a moment to breathe. he doesn’t stop fucking you, though, and he slows his hips and gives it to you slow and deep. yunho watches your eyes roll, feels your slick drip down his lower stomach, your cunt pulsing around him as if your body is begging for more. he doesn’t know if you’d be able to handle more without passing out, but he’s willing to take that risk.
“so cute…” he murmurs against your heated skin, dragging his fingers down your tongue and out of your mouth, wiping your drool all over your face and landing a burning slap across your cheek that sends your head whipping to the side.
you whine loudly when he takes his free hand and presses down against your lower stomach. your entire body jerks, your hands squirming in the belt around your wrists, throwing your head back into the pillow. the slow drag of his dick inside of you is almost too much without the vibrator. forced to feel the slow push and pull, his fat tip catching on that ridge inside of you. yunho could feel himself move under his palm through the flesh of your tummy, and he was addicted.
he looked crazed, and you couldn’t lock eyes with him for too long, or it would send your body into a burning heat.
“cum.” he commands, his low voice rough and growling, and your brain shuts off while your body obeys his command. like he flipped a switch, your cunt clenches, and you’re cumming.
you couldn’t believe it, how much control he had over you in that hotel room. it was borderline immoral, the way he seemed to get high off your compliance. it's like it wasn’t voluntary; your body just listened to him. your brain was useless, your body was all he needed, and he loved the way it responded to him.
he pokes his tongue against his inner cheek and laughs lowly, pressing against your stomach even harder as he pulls you through your orgasm, rolling his hips into you with monstrous precision.
“yeah, lemme fuck you through it, fuck you through it, fuck you through it…” it was like he was in a trance, and with every word that spilled from his mouth, his hips began to move faster.
your moans were going quiet, losing your voice from how much you had been moaning that night. you weren’t sure how many times you had cum by then, but you were sure it was at least 7.
he could see it, the light leaving your eyes, the clouds that formed over your irises, the more you succumbed to the overwhelming pleasure. he always loved this part. he coaxed fans up to his hotel room, a dark promise of a secret well kept.
a promise for a night they will never forget, and maybe a night they will wish to forget. yunho would ruin them, play with them until they were useless. you were surprisingly resilient, and he was having a lot of fun with you.
“such a pretty, flexible little thing, hm? look at you, so fucking stupid.” you hear it before you feel it, the click of the wand as the buzzing fills the room.
you gain some sort of coherence in your eyes, and panic signals inside your brain as your hands jerk in their restraints, and attempt to reach down and stop him.
“w-wait-!” he doesn’t, and he presses the wand up against your clit once again. you groan loud and low, the combination of his thick cock slipping in and out of your oozing pussy, the merciless vibrations of the wand, his hand slides up and hooks at your throat, where he squeezes so hard you can’t move your head.
your breaths go quiet as he fucks you, as he hates you for existing. rough, claiming, and spiteful. vile spits and condescending praises in your face that make you feel like you were nothing more than a toy for him.
“slippery cunt keeps sucking me in, tiny. desperate slut can’t get enough, huh?”
“you keep cumming until you knock yourself out, i wanna see those pretty little eyes go empty.”
“need you to feel this in the morning, can't tell anyone about it, but you’re gonna fucking feel it for weeks.”
you could feel bruises forming on the backs of your thighs from where his hips slammed against you. the sharp crescents that sank into your neck where he held your throat down against the mattress. your clit was puffy and overstimulated to the point where every movement burned, but it burned so fucking good.
“can’t wait to find your face in the crowd at the next concert. ill be on stage thinking about how i reduced you to a set of holes for me to fuck. how pretty you look crying for me, how wet you get hearing me talking to you like my own personal fuckdoll.”
every word stole air from your lungs, every stroke sent the nerves in your pussy into overdrive, every brush of his lips made your eyes roll, every squeeze of his hand on your throat made your legs twitch around his hips.
“that’s it, baby, shh shhh.” he coos at you like it was your first time using your brain. he drags the vibrator up your clit in slow increments, and he drinks in the way your entire body twitches with every stroke.
“i'm gonna break you, sweetheart, mmhm. if you pass out, don’t worry. the guards will get you home safely.”
yunho rewards your limp body with a kiss to your temple, and he feels you clench around his cock harder than you do all night.
he opens his mouth and lets out a giggling moan against your skull, and he kisses your temple again.
“fuck, you got so tight, you like me being sweet to you?” yunho whispers against your skin, slowing his hips, giving you a glimpse of hope at the chance of pity for your broken body.
you can’t answer; only moan with a broken voice. he grins, then he drags his hips back with a shaky purr and shoves his cock deep into your cunt, pounding you stupid into the hotel mattress like you were an expendable rubber doll that could be replaced if she snapped in half.
“too bad~” he teases against your skin in a mocking sing-song tone, sinking his teeth into your lobe as he adjusts his hips to fuck you bottomless and forceful. "nobody's coming to save you, baby. you're at my mercy tonight."
a mercy he did not have. and if only you knew the way all the other members were in their respective hotel rooms, unable to get the pathetic sounds of your sobs out of their head, fighting the urge to fist their cock to the sound of yunho fucking up another fan.
you should never have let your curiosity get the best of you, because you weren’t sure if you’d make it out of that hotel alive.
not with the way yunho was fucking you like he had no goddamn off button.
your best friend finding your secret camgirl account was definitely not on your bingo card for the year. you weren't even sure how mingi had recognized you in the first place, you hardly ever show your face, and when you do, it's only for those with that level of subscription. which raised even more questions that you weren't sure that you had the guts to even ask.
but mingi? mingi was more than happy to answer all your unasked questions. he always made a small remark or comment that would leave you squirming in your seat when you were out with other friends. or even leaving lingering touches, touches that someone who was just a friend wouldn't leave.
then came the time you finally gave in and let him fuck you for your channel. mingi's got you face down, ass up with that camera sitting right in front of you. the lens captures every twist of pleasure that crossed your face as he absolutely demolished you.
"m-min!" you cried out, a string of spit connecting your lips as your jaw fell slack. your whole body was trembling violently, threatening to shatter entirely.
mingi, on the other hand, tightened his grip on your hips, using them as leverage to bully his aching cock into your silky walls, grunting when you clamped around him. neither of you was sure how long you had even been going at it, but a mixture of your and his cum leaked past his dick and dripped down your inner thigh before staining the satin silk sheets of his bed.
"still so fucking tight, babygirl, like you're begging for more," the pink-haired male growled above you, pistoning his hips into yours, and the wet squelching was almost deafening. "don't worry, pretty girl, I'll fill you so full that you'll be dripping for days."
"fuck!" you almost screamed his name when his ring-clad hand moved from your hip to your neck, tugging your body up and pressing your back against his chest. your hands flew to mingi's forearm as his grip tightened on your neck, leaving your vision to fuzz due to the lack of oxygen.
"you're such a dirty girl, you know that?" mingi cooed into your ear, plush lips brushing over your skin, "just letting all these people watch as I fuck you stupid. you like this, don't you?"
"yes— nghh! fuck, yes, mingi!" a series of cries and pleas fell from your lips when his other hand moved to your twitching clit, swiping across it in ways that left you nearly breathless. the coil in your gut pulled tight, just needing one little push to finally snap.
"come on, baby, let all these people see your pretty face when you cum on my cock." mingi growls against your skin before pressing a searing kiss to your tear-drenched cheek.
then with a few more hard, punishing snaps of mingi's hips, you were coming undone for the nth time that night. your whole body convulsed in mingi's hold, broken, soundless moans spilled from your lips as you drenched his dick and the sheets under your bodies.
"good fucking girl," mingi groaned, jaw clenching tightly as he fucked you through your high and towards his own high. and when he finally came, he was filling your womb like he had promised he would, hips still rocking into yours.
"mingi, wait!" you gasped when he started to fuck his still-hard cock into your sensitive walls, pulling all sorts of sweet sounds from your kiss-swollen lips.
"we still have so much footage left, babygirl, why not use it?" mingi chuckles, tightening his grip on your neck, which in turn has you clenching around him. a sinister chuckle fell from his lips as he watched you completely lose yourself in the pleasure, begging him to slow down but never making any moves to stop him.
because just like mingi, you wanted everything he is and ever would offer you.
⋆. 𐙚 ˚ GAMER BF!MINGI who will leave one side of his headset off just in case you needed anything from him because he will always put your wants and needs over his game.
⋆. 𐙚 ˚ GAMER BF!MINGI who is willing to stop whatever he’s doing if you were to call out for him, even if it was for the smallest thing, even if it meant that he had to go back to his friend who would either nag at him for throwing the match or teasing him because of how down-bad he was for you.
⋆. 𐙚 ˚ GAMER BF!MINGI who keeps his desk and minifridge stocked with all of your favorite snacks and drinks because he knows how much you love to snack. Sometimes even goes as far as writing little notes to stick to the packaging just to see your cute smile whenever you grab something from the drawer and because you always press a kiss either on his cheek or the side of his neck depending on if he was in a match or not.
⋆. 𐙚 ˚ GAMER BF!MINGI who will try to get you to play a match with him, but will laugh when you start pouting or raging because you couldn’t figure out how the controls work and would die almost instantly after leaving the lobby. although he’s also quick to help teach you how to play, hands over yours but only after he kisses the pout off of your lips and it's replaced by a wide smile.
⋆. 𐙚 ˚ GAMER BF!MINGI who always wants to have you near him at all times, like 24/7, finding comfort in your touch and presents so you tend to find yourself perched in his lap, clinging to his body like a koala while he plays.
⋆. 𐙚 ˚ GAMER BF!MINGI who if you are in his lap will kiss you anywhere he can, your head, cheek, shoulder, whatever was closest at the time, whenever he goes back into the lobby and checking in on you making sure that you were okay and comfortable, but will smile like a love sick puppy if you had fallen asleep on him, your face buried in the crook of his neck.
⋆. 𐙚 ˚ GAMER BF!MINGI who will ditch his friends in a heartbeat if you wanted to play animal crossing with him. the two of you cuddled up on his bed, switches in hand while you decorated your shared island. he also decorated the house because you claim that ‘he’s better at it than you’.
⋆. 𐙚 ˚ GAMER BF!MINGI who loves when the two of you play multiplayer games together because he enjoys watching you get so competitive, doing everything in your power to win against him. sometimes he’ll throw the game just to see your face light up in excitement when you saw that you had won, rubbing it in his face which only caused him to laugh.
⋆. 𐙚 ˚ GAMER BF!MINGI who will play minecraft in creative mode just so he could build you random things then will look like an excited puppy whenever you see those things when the two of you play together.
⋆. 𐙚 ˚ GAMER BF!MINGI who when he rage quits will toss his headset on the desk before crawling into his bed where you’re laying and just lay down on you, head on your chest without saying a word. he will pout whenever you tease and coo at him, but will instantly melt into your touch when you run your fingers through his unkempt hair.
⋆. 𐙚 ˚ GAMER BF!MINGI who will try to keep his voice down if it was late at night and you were sleeping, because the last thing he wanted was to wake you up. and he didn’t like it when you scolded him so it was better to play it safe.
⋆. 𐙚 ˚ GAMER BF!MINGI who gets all giddy and happy whenever he sees that you designed a character for the both of you in sims. and if you gave yourself his last name? that boy would turn into a mushy puddle in his seat.
⋆. 𐙚 ˚ GAMER BF!MINGI who will wrap his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him whenever you sit in his lap to play a game. his chin resting on your shoulder, watching everything you do with such a keen eye that he was sure he had memorized all of your ticks.
⋆. 𐙚 ˚ GAMER BF!MINGI who is just the biggest simp in the world whenever you wore one of his hoodies, loving how tiny you looked in the oversized fabric, bonus points if you just woke up and were sitting in the middle of his bed with that sleepy pout on your lips and your hair was a mess.
⋆. 𐙚 ˚ GAMER BF!MINGI who is just the biggest simp in the world whenever you wore one of his hoodies, loving how tiny you looked in the oversized fabric, bonus points if you just woke up and were sitting in the middle of his bed with that sleepy pout on your lips and your hair was a mess.
⋆. 𐙚 ˚ GAMER BF!MINGI who will always facetime you whenever you aren’t already at his apartment, not caring that he was in the middle of a match or not, he couldn’t last a day without seeing your face or hearing your cute voice.
⋆. 𐙚 ˚ GAMER BF!MINGI who lit up like a christmas tree whenever you bought the both of you matching headsets.
⋆. 𐙚 ˚ GAMER BF!MINGI who will always play a game with you even if he is unsure if he will like it or not, but he’s always willing to try whenever it comes to you.
⋆. 𐙚 ˚ GAMER BF!MINGI who will pout like a puppy whenever you giggle at him after he gets jump scared while playing a horror game.
⋆. 𐙚 ˚ GAMER BF!MINGI who will become a flustered mess whenever you start teasing him and complimenting him because he was wearing his glasses. even better when they’re the cute wireframe glasses that you had bought for him because you were sure that he would look cute in them, and of course he does.
pairing: poly ateez x fem!reader, hongjoong focused
genre: angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, suggestive, mafia au, trauma doctor!reader, mentions of violence, depictions of disability and recovery, blood, tw for eye related things, NCT gang mentioned
wc: 2.8k
summary: it was a normal shake down until it wasn't.
a/n: so eyepatch wearing hongjoong in the adrenaline mv did a lot for me and this fic happened. once again a warning that I am a person who has not had an eye injury and have not experienced blindness to such an extreme - I did some googling for what could happen if you lose sight in one eye and based parts of hongjoong's journey on that.
The emergency and trauma department was calm. You’d visited with the few patients still under your care, sent a few to the next ward for the next step of their recovery, and written up a long report on a DIY accident that you’d fixed up early that morning.
You recalled looking at the clock, thinking that another half an hour and your shift would be over. You couldn’t wait to get home, to strip off your outside world clothes and wrap yourself in the comforting touch of your boys.
You knew that Yeosang would be home and Jongho, reluctantly, was on bedrest (your orders) after he’d dislocated his elbow in a bare-knuckle fight. He’d be grumpy and bored when you got back, would make a show of complaining that there was nothing wrong and he could go out on another job. You were sure you could convince Yeosang to join you in smoothing the frown off their youngest lover’s face with kisses.
You were still smiling at the thought when the emergency room exploded.
One of the attending nurses came storming through the door, already shouting for a gurney and announcing the incoming injury. Late 20s man, gunshot wound to the right eye socket. Blood has been stemmed with clothes.
You moved into action immediately, swinging out from behind the desk, your report long abandoned. You were already thinking about the delicacy of the upcoming operation, of where the bullet would need to have entered to save the eye in its entirety, how much could be saved if it entered from another moment.
And then you saw him.
San.
It was like the first time you saw him. The man was covered in blood that wasn’t his, panic filtering through his beautiful face, and in his arms, a bleeding lover that needed help.
This time though, it wasn’t professional (or rather unprofessional) curiosity that flooded you. A distant thought of attractiveness, of how intrigued you are about the true and honest distress on the face of such an obviously dangerous man.
No, now, you stumbled in your step. Your breath caught. Your hands trembled. Your throat tightened in utter and devastating fear.
You watched as San lowered the slumped body onto the gurney and how your department’s intern was already there, doing the initial assessment. You barely heard it, not when San finally looked at you.
He didn’t crumble, though you knew he wanted to. You could see it in his eyes. You wondered if you looked the same, teetering on the edge of absolute destruction.
The patient was pushed past you. Skilled fingers were already applying pressure, taking blood samples, rushing to different corners of the department to grab anaesthetic and gauze, and begin the set up of the emergency surgery room. Your eyes followed and caught sight of orange strands, matted dark in places against too pale skin.
You rolled your lips to hold in a sob. “Hongjoong…”
-
It was a routine shake down until it wasn’t.
Some NCT recruit thought he could impress his higher ups by messing around with ATZ business. Hongjoong and San were there to make sure that he knew that was not an option.
San’s fists were bruised and cut by the time they’d come to realise this wasn’t some pre-planned overthrow attempt. It was just some stupid kid who thought he could pull a fast one and get some street credit.
Maybe that was why he let his guard down. Something akin to empathy rolled through him.
“Drop him off at Mark’s,” he had ordered, mind already fluttering away from this to the mountain of other things he needed to do. “Remind him to train his newbies better.”
But stupid kids sometimes only get stupider. Hongjoong didn’t notice the gun, but he heard San’s sharp voice as he glanced back and –
Pain. This searing unbelievable kind of pain tore through him so viciously. It was numbing, overwhelming. He’d try to breathe, try to speak, and blood would clog on his tongue. Beyond ringing ears, he could just about hear San, and then loads of voices, all clawing over each other to be heard.
The next thing he knew, at least hour later he found out, Hongjoong felt heavy. Like he was operating a body that didn’t quite belong to him. He tried to open his eyes and his vision blurred before him. He tried to speak but the dryness of his mouth and the metallic taste of blood made him cough. That sent a wave of uncomfortable pain through him, and he croaked out a curse.
“Don’t move, Hongjoong,” it was Seonghwa’s voice, the firm order given, as long hands pressed onto his shoulders, holding him still.
“Does he need more drugs?” Yeosang inquired, voice filled with worry.
Your voice cut through, a tired and borderline hysterical laugh, “He’s on enough morphine to take down a small horse,” you said, “can’t give him another dose. Plus, he needs to come around so we can check…”
Hongjoong managed to get words out, but they slurred and cracked. “Where the fuck am I?”
Softer hands – yours, because all his other lovers had fingers calloused by gunpowder and fire – stroked along the underside of his jaw. You rattled off the name of your hospital. “You got hurt baby,” you murmured, “do you remember?”
It was like walking through fog to get his memories to align. His eyebrows furrowed, pulled tight the skin on his face uncomfortably. “Did that fucker shoot me?”
Mingi barked a laugh, sharp and short. “That fucker had a good shot.”
“So do I,” San’s voice was clipped in response.
Hongjoong tried to focus, strained his vision but it was like things didn’t quite line up. He could make out faces, but their features were mixed, and the edges of his vision were black, the world beyond shadowed. He knew you though, narrowed in on the tip of your nose, your lanyard around your neck, the way you kept blinking your eyes. He could imagine your worry, your panic, but your voice was calm, soft and comforting - always the professional.
“The bullet lodged in your right socket. We had to remove some of the shattered skull from there and reconstruct it as best we could. Your retina took damage from the initial impact. We tried to save the connective tissue, but” it was then your voice wavered. Your fingers pressed under his left eye, oh so gentle, terrified he was going to break.
It was then he realised that the dark lining to the right of his vision wasn’t going away.
It would never go away.
Hongjoong gaped, jerked, and tried to sit up. He didn’t know what he was going to do but he didn’t get the chance to because more hands were pushing him down, more voices – Wooyoung, Jongho – ordering him to lay back down.
Yunho’s face appeared next to yours, eyebrows creased and lips pressed into a thin line. “You can’t move like that yet,” he murmured, “you’ll break the work that our girl did on you.”
Hongjoong had to listen, didn’t he, pushed down into the hospital bed, his lovers staring down at him like he was a fragile thing. San and Jongho were on his right, he could tell by their voices, but he couldn’t see them. Not even a little bit.
“Beautiful,” he croaked. He reached up to cup your face, the oxygen monitoring tag pressing a groove into your cheek. “Tell me.”
You covered his hand with yours and he felt the light brush of lips on his palm when you turned your head to kiss him there. “The eye is still there,” you whispered, “but the connection is gone. It is unlikely it’ll work again.”
Hongjoong let his eyelids flutter close and let the words – the reality – consume him.
-
You took your PTO all at once.
The boys had to keep the empire rolling, even while their boss recovered, but you couldn’t bear the thought of leaving Hongjoong alone after everything. He’d insisted he would be fine but didn’t object when your time off was approved and you spent the first night curled on his left side, clinging to his bare chest, feeling the steady exhales in the top of your hair.
Hongjoong.
Your unflappable, well controlled love.
He was trying to hold himself together for himself, for them all, but you could see the cracks.
It was hard to lose one of your senses, even partially. Not that Hongjoong would ever admit it aloud, but it was obvious in his silence. In the way that he tensed when someone approached from his right side, not expecting their presence and hating the fight response it caused, even in his own home.
In the way that he bumped into doorframes, kitchen counters, chairs, just not quite able to judge their depth anymore.
In the way that you caught him sometimes, standing over his desk, hands clasped tightly at the edges, eyes pressed closed because it was just so exhausting to look at anything these days.
“It’s okay to stop for a moment,” you told him quietly, only when you were alone. You ran your fingertips between his, following the webbing between each finger, the callouses on his palm. “It’s okay to not be okay.”
“I have to be okay,” he told you, an admittance he’d only admit in the depths of night.
You kissed the pads of his fingers. “You don’t. We love you with or without your strength,” you promised. “We love you in whatever way we have you.”
He said it back because he has never not returned your love. He whispered it between kisses on your lips, down the curve of your breasts and lower. He marked it into each bite he left on the inside of your thighs and how tight he gripped your hips. He groaned it into your neck as he took your care, your soft touches, your hitched breaths.
And when you were both spent, body hot and trembling, he made sure to hold you on his left side and hid his stubborn tears in your hair. You pretended you couldn’t feel it and held on tighter.
-
Wooyoung got the eyepatch.
He’d come home early, dropped it into the centre of Hongjoong’s desk and told him, “You’d look hot with this.”
No mention of the fact that Hongjoong was still trying to use an eye that no longer worked. No comment on how it was supposed to help his remaining eye adjust and strengthen. Not pointing out that every time they looked at the scarred area around the blank eye, it made Hongjoong recoil away, as if they were perceiving something he wished they didn’t.
Yunho helped adjust it, so gentle as he pulled the straps tighter around Hongjoong’s head, careful in how he untucked strands of hair from beneath and made sure the tips of his lover’s ears weren’t caught.
“Woo was right,” he muttered, “you do look hot.”
Hongjoong let out a laugh, somewhere between emotional break and genuine amusement. “I always look hot.”
The taller man hummed in agreement and kissed him deeply.
It had been hard on them, your boys. They kept ATZ running while you cleaned dressings and soothed mental scars. Mingi confessed that they’d never seen Hongjoong get hurt by anything in all the time they’d known him.
“Me, I can take a gunshot,” he said, “but Hongjoong-hyung, it was like they always bounced off him. Until this one.”
“He could have died,” Jongho said, tense, words sharp.
Yeosang was even sharper. “He didn’t.”
“He could have.”
“But he didn’t.”
You smoothed your fingers down Yeosang’s arm, felt the muscle shaking from excretion. “He got lucky,” you murmured, “but for him – we must adjust too. He won’t ask for help, but he’ll need it. We have to look after him now.”
And if there’s one thing your boys were good at, it was looking after each other.
It wasn’t an obvious change. It was natural to move to Hongjoong’s left side; to cup their hands the sharp edges of tables when he walked past; to make sure every drink, every utensil was resting just in his line of sight. It wasn’t overpowering or imposing – Hongjoong would have killed them all for even trying – but it was adapting, it was care.
And you knew it was having an effect when, one night, Hongjoong willingly stepped away from paperwork when Seonghwa told him too. The exhaustion was clear in his face, in how he kept closing his eyes for more periods at a time. Before he would have insisted, he could finish, but that day, he let Seonghwa take the pen from his hand, press a kiss to his lips and then find you.
“Character growth,” you teased as he dropped onto the edge of your bed. You were already curled up, a book in hand, wearing a t-shirt whose original owner you didn’t recall.
Hongjoong’s lips had twitched. “A headache,” he corrected. “Feels weird though. I used to handle all that stuff – I mean, Hwa hates dealing with it.”
“He would for you,” you pointed out.
Hongjoong hummed and inclined his head. “Not sure how I feel about letting up control.”
“You’re still in control baby,” you promised, “just…delegating.”
“I’ve never been very good at delegating,” he admitted. As a kid, when he first stepped into this world, he was the one receiving orders, running shipments, passing messages, terrified that one wrong move would end up with his body in the Han river. As an adult, he’d had to prove himself capable, to have people trust and follow him as he led the destruction of the last regime. Now, as ATZ’s boss, there were people who relied on him and asking for help - that felt like weakness.
But it didn’t feel like that with you, with any of his partners.
Loving them and getting loved back didn’t feel like a defect.
You put your book to the side and wrapped your hand around his, urging him closer with gentle pulls. He fell with you, curled up at your side, head pressed against the soft flesh of your breast. He let you wrap your arm around him, to hold him close, and fuss with the edge of the duvet as you pulled it over them both.
It was strange how quickly his headache seemed to lessen in your arms.
You were so careful in taking off the eyepatch, putting on the bedside table and brushing your fingers through his hair. Hongjoong’s eyes fluttered close, body melting into the mattress.
“Sleep,” you murmured the order. Your lips brushed against his forehead.
He sighed, content, peaceful for the first time in a long time. “Whatever you want, beautiful.”
-
“You made quite a mess,” Taeyong commented. “Yuta said your man didn’t leave anything behind.”
It was strange that fact sent a wave of twisted satisfaction and immense affection through him. If there was anyone who had taken his injury hard, it was San. He’d found it hard to look at his boss, jaw tight, lips tugged downwards until Hongjoong had made him.
“I didn’t stop this,” San confessed, voice breaking. He’d fallen on to shaky knees, pressed his head to the floorboards and begged for forgiveness.
Hongjoong had lowered himself beside him, urged him up. He’d brushed sorrowful tears from San’s wonderful face as he assured him there wasn’t anything to forgive. “You got me to our girl,” he murmured, “you got me help. You put a bullet into the bastard who did this. Don’t punish yourself for this.”
Speaking with the head of NCT now, Hongjoong couldn’t help but smirk. “Wouldn’t have happened if you had better recruitment.”
“Or you had faster reflexes,” Taeyong shot back.
Hongjoong bared his teeth when he laughed. “Send condolences to his family in my stead,” he requested.
“What am I? Your errand boy?” the other man scoffed.
There was no heat behind it. There was no secret that he’d run with Taeyong as a kid, long before they were both in the positions they were in now. ATZ and NCT should be enemies, battling for the same zone of control, but when Hongjoong had slit the throat of the last leader, Taeyong had supported his assent without question.
“You still free on the twentieth?” Hongjoong asked.
Taeyong hummed. “I can make sure the schedule is clear if you insist.” A pause and then, “Haechan wants to know whether Jongho is coming.”
“For a rematch?” Hongjoong arched an eyebrow. “Didn’t know that Hae was a glutton for punishment.”
Taeyong laughed. “He’s a glutton for something, that’s for sure,” he murmured, “You should bring your doctor as well.”
“If she wants to,” Hongjoong evaded. Of course news had reached NCT about the newest addition to the ATZ inner circle.
“Afraid she’ll move on bigger things?” he didn’t have to see Taeyong to know he was sticking his tongue in his cheek.
“Fuck you,” Hongjoong shot back.
“You wish,” Taeyong quipped. A pause, distant voices and a long suffering sigh. “Fuck, back to business. Tell your girl I said hi.”
a/n: please reblog and comment your thoughts! im excited to know what you think! (also if you have any ideas for another mafia au fic, especially specific character ones, please send them my way!)
thinking about ... wooyoung and a quickie backstage .ᐟ
you’re attending the same event, macau waterbomb, and it wasn’t a secret among the members or his manager that WOOYOUNG was dating someone. still, no one expected it to be you — the nation’s joy and pride, the angel everyone adored.
your outfit alone causes a stir almost immediately: sparkly denim shorts, a white crop top clinging just right, bikini hidden underneath. simple and effortless, cameras catch it instantly, and the internet erupts as people start to drool.
after your performance is over, backstage is where you finally get a moment with your secret boyfriend. five minutes, that’s all you have before san’s cover starts falling apart and your manager starts looking for you. five minutes to wrap it up, perfect for a quickie.
you’re already wet, and it has nothing to do with the water splashing on stage. wooyoung drops to his knees without hesitation, and you sit on the edge of the table, legs spreading as he lifts them onto his shoulders. his mouth finds you immediately, tongue warm and eager as he eats you out like he’s been starving. maybe because he has been since you sent him a little spoiler of your outfit earlier.
he praises you between every breath, tells you how stunning you look, and how that skimpy outfit was on another level because he knows you like to provoke. when you get a chance to show skin, to let that sex appeal shine… yeah, he’s just a man with needs, and you being this hot doesn’t help at all.
his tongue laps and presses deeper, teasing your clit as he slurps messily, the sounds echoes in the quiet room you snuck into. “wooyo–” you moan before you can stop yourself, hands flying up to cover your mouth.
“baby,” murmuring against you, voice low and breathy, “i want you to be loud so bad…” but you both know you can’t, you shouldn’t, so you muffle every sound, biting down on your lips as he keeps going.
a quickie with him is fast. he makes you come hard with just his mouth and fingers, never breaking eye contact. he’s big on that, on watching you fall apart.
“eyes on me,” he tells you between quiet grunts, and you obey, staring down at him as his tongue moves fast and relentlessly, up and down, in and out, until your orgasm hits and you have to fight not to cry out.
wooyoung knows you want more, and fuck, don’t do this to him with your glossy eyes, lips parted, shaky breaths, your hands slowly drifting down… he groans, closing his eyes for half a second like he’s fighting god himself.
“angel, don’t look at me like that…” he mutters, then sighs, because who is he to deny his girl’s needs? “okay, just the tip. then you’re gone.”
the music swells outside again, right on time to mask the scream that came out of you.
I think I need some comfort. 😭 Is it okay if I request a san x reader in which reader is on the edge of breaking down. But it slowly builds up until she almost yells at him but it's her exhaustion talking, she's not really mad at him. And san immediately notice it and since he's the biggest green flag boyfriend he manages to calm her down and eventually he listens very carefully to her while hugging her.
Yeah you can sense how I feel tired of life 🥲
hey anon~
im so sorry you feel this way. I hope you feel better at the end of the week, and that this fics helps life your mood
wc: 569
genre: drabble, gn reader, reader has an emotional breakdown, san is a walking green flag, lots of tears, some negative self talk from reader, limited use of capital letters, fluff, hurt and comfort
masterlist // requests: open
---------------------------
there isn't anything specific that drags you to edge. work is pulling at your sanity this week, you feel like you have no time to anything you enjoy in life, and San - your lovable, gorgeous boyfriend who is just so excited to see you after a busy week - is talking you to incessantly.
every question he asks tugs at your patience. every smile makes you want to curl into a ball and die. he's too calm and too sweet and all you can think is -
"can you just shut up for a second?"
it slips out of you, words stumbling harsh and sharp. it turns the previously warm space cold, tense. san looks startled, hurt clouding his vision, his own words - a story about his members that would normally had made you laugh - dying on the tip of his tongue.
you take one look at his face, at the hurt you've caused, and burst into tears.
you cry for the pain you caused. you cry for the exhaustion physically pulling you down. you cry for the feeling of a hopeless future because you're a terrible person who doesn't deserve -
your sobs wobble, startled, when arms curve around you. familiar and large, they pull into a broad chest, hold you close and rock you to a tune that recognise as completely San. you try to look up but he won't let you, holding your head against his chest, fingers patting your hair as he whispers into the soft strands.
"it's okay baby," he soothes, "let it out. let it all out. it must have been a tough day for you right baby? it's okay, when you're ready, you can tell me. you can always tell me anything. my beautiful baby, I'm right here. I got you."
it makes you cry more. relief that you don't have to hold it in and guilt that after your harsh words that he's the one comforting you. you try to say sorry but it comes out between hiccups and hitched breathing, sobs that choked you until you cough.
"you didn't mean to shout," he says, understands you in a way that you can't verbalise right now, "I know. its fine. we all shout sometimes. if you need silence, if you need space, always tell me okay baby? I'll give you whatever you want."
you cling to him like a child, fingers desperately curl into the fabric of his shirt and breath in his scent until you feel a little more human. the tears have made your eyes sting, your cheeks feel uncomfortable, your nose is blocked but san still looks down at you like an angel, something precious sent from above.
he rubs the tear tracks from face and gives you a smile of geninue encouragement. "what do you need?" he asks quietly, "do you want me to go?"
"no." you hold a bit tighter. "i'm sorry."
"I know," he assures. san bends to nudge his forehead against yours, a comforting weight, "how about we order fries, eat it while we cuddle in bed and fall asleep watching love is blind?"
san hates love in blind but he'll watch it without complaint for you.
you want to cry all over again.
"okay," you nod, "I want to tell you what's wrong."
san presses a kiss to the centre of your forehead. "if you want to babes. I'll listen."
warnings: smut, MDNI, drabble, voyeurism, stalking, masturbation, it's non consensual and obvi kinda dark (pls don't read if this isn't your thing <3)
a/n: first time I saw this pic this idea immediately popped into my head. feeling positively awful and wishing I had a real reason for it, tbh idk what this is I'm just in a weird mood tonight
**********************
stalker!san who buys an apartment in the building next to yours, on the same floor, so he has a perfect view
stalker!san who watches you undress every morning, and every night, jacking off behind the curtains of his huge window
stalker!san who's been watching you for months, who knows your every routine, every pattern
stalker!san who gets a job in your building, so he'll have the master key
stalker!san who visits your apartment every day that you work, taking dirty panties from your hamper for himself
stalker!san who cums in your already dirty panties, throwing them out in post-orgasmic regret
stalker!san who buys you brand new panties, leaving you an anonymous gift on your bed
stalker!san who watches in delight at your shock and confusion
stalker!san who buys his time, never wanting to push his limits. he likes this arrangement too much to scare you off, never showing his face to you, never leaving any other trace of himself
stalker!san who starts jacking off in your apartment, not able to stop himself. your smell, your bed, your clothes, it all makes him rock fucking hard
stalker!san who's waited a full year, not letting himself be seen or heard or found out. finally he steps out onto his balcony, and faces you. in the dark night he is backlit by the light from his apartment, but you see he is looking at you, and you look back, smiling
stalker!san who smiles back, even though you can't see it
stalker!san who let's you live with your impending sense of disturbance, never knowing why your room always feels tampered with
Request from @oo-li! Your request literally made me so excited and I got kinda self indulgent with where I took it lol, so I really hope you like it! <3 Also it's bouncy au. I have been so fucking obsessed with that mv recently.
Summary: Wooyoung thinks San deserves a prize after winning his fight. Threesome ensues.
Pairing: Jung Wooyoung x Choi San x afab reader
Includes: bouncy au, "kitty", pet play, threesome, clit play, penetrative sex, pleaseeee use a condom irl, face fucking, collars and leashes, cat ears
Word count: 1.5k
Taglist (Comment on a post/send an ask if you'd like to be added): @weirdowithaphone, @caught-in-the-afterglow, @palindrome969, @skzstan12345, @katsukis1wife,
Wooyoung gave your leash a tug, nothing too hard, just getting your attention. “Baby?”
“Mm?” You looked up at him.
“Why don’t you start touching yourself for me? I want you nice and desperate once I’m ready for you.” He kept his eyes on the fight, but one corner of his mouth moved up in a smirk.
You sighed in relief. You’d been by his side all night, kneeling on a blanket and waiting patiently for him to give you permission to do anything but wait patiently.
Wooyoung’s star fighter, San, was performing well tonight, and based on how he’d been doing recently, you suspected he’d win. This would be a good thing for you, as Wooyoung would be in a good mood and might actually let you cum. Last time San had lost, you’d been edged for two hours.
You watched San punch the other guy in the face as you put a hand up your skirt. You snuck a glance at Wooyoung, who was leaned forward, his gaze fixed on the ring. “Yes, you can finger yourself.” He said dismissively.
Being his pet had its perks. You got a front row seat to every fight, and they were usually pretty entertaining. He spoiled you, got you nice things to wear. And the sex was nothing short of amazing.
You could barely wait for him to fuck you as you started to finger yourself, first one finger, then two, then three.
“My good kitty.” He absently patted your head, scratching your scalp. You whimpered, and he finally looked at you, smiling. “You like being my good kitty? Excited to get fucked?”
“Yeah.” You whispered.
“San just needs to get one more good hit in and it’s over.” Wooyoung turned his attention back to the fight. “And then I’ll fuck you so good.”
Your fingers, while no comparison to Wooyoung’s cock, moved faster.
San got his hit in, and the other guy fell to the ground, completely knocked out. Wooyoung jumped out of his seat, cheering. He looked at you, handing you the leash. “You can go to the bedroom. I expect you to be all ready by the time I get there.”
You nodded, your eyes lighting up.
You walked through the crowd to the little back door that led to Wooyoung’s room. It was a tidy little room, with a big bed and a nightstand holding enough sex toys to occupy a small army.
You shut the door and pulled one of the nightstand drawers out to get out a little set of cat ears that you clipped into your hair. You took off your top and skirt and spread yourself out on the bed.
When the door opened, it wasn’t just Wooyoung who walked in. San was slightly bloody, dirty, and sweaty, but fuck, he was hot. He smiled at you, his eyes raking down your body.
“Since San won tonight, I thought I’d give him a little reward.” Wooyoung smirked. “You’re okay with that, right, kitty?”
You nodded, your eyes wide. You loved when San joined you. Sometimes Wooyoung treated him like a dom on equal footing, and sometimes he was a pet along with you. It was always different, but Wooyoung was always in charge.
It seemed tonight it would be a mixture, as Wooyoung pulled out a second set of cat ears and put them on San, but nodded at you. “You should be a good pet and fuck our kitty for me, Sannie.” He scratched behind San’s ear, and you bit your lip as San sighed, melting into Wooyoung’s touch. “You were so good for me tonight, I think you deserve a nice tight hole to fuck into.”
You whined, but didn’t say anything. You knew when you were Wooyoung’s pet you’d be punished for speaking, and you were a good kitty.
San turned to look at you, his eyes boring into yours. “I’m gonna fuck you so good, kitty. Hands and knees.”
You got into position, and San fucked you with a couple fingers before lining his cock up with your entrance and sinking into you. A hand pushed between your shoulder blades, and you could hear Wooyoung laughing as your face fell into the pillows.
“Look at that arch.” Wooyoung’s hand ghosted along your back. “Such a perfectly submissive fuckpet.”
You moaned, as much at Wooyoung’s words as at San’s cock.
San began to move, rocking inside you, his cock pushing deep. You could hear Wooyoung and San kissing, and you whined.
“Feeling left out?” San grabbed onto your hips, punctuating the sentence with a hard thrust. “I’d kiss you, too, kitty, but that pretty little face is pushed into the pillow.”
You tried to raise your head, get your arms under you, but Wooyoung just pushed you back down again. “Don’t distract Sannie from fucking you. Be good and take it.”
San fucked you with increasing intensity, until you were practically sobbing into the pillow, your fingers clawing, scrabbling at the sheets for anything to hold onto. Your legs were tingly, you were tearing up, you were a mess.
San was really fucking good at this, and Wooyoung moving around the two of you made it even better. At one point he yanked your head towards him and kissed you, hard, until you’d squeaked at one of San’s thrusts. He’d pulled away, and you’d been expecting a slap or something similar until he kissed your forehead.
He found your clit, and his finger began moving around it. His other hand fisted in your hair, pulling you up so you could hear him. “Fucking slut… good pet. Good fucking pet. You’re so good for me, aren’t you? Why don’t you hold back and not cum for me? Think you can do that? I think you can do that. San, fuck her harder.” His finger moved faster, and he moved in close to your ear. “Don’t cum, kitty, got that?”
You whined in agreement, arching back against him. It was so much sensation, so much stimulation, it was all you could do not to cum right then.
San kept fucking you, Wooyoung kept moving his finger, keeping you stimulated through your orgasm. It felt like fireworks were going off in your legs, and you shook. They continued as you came down from your high.
Wooyoung clicked his tongue. “Kitty… I specifically told you not to cum. You’re gonna have to make up for that, you know. San, pull out. You can have her mouth.”
They dragged you down the bed into position: hands and knees again, but this time, you were close to the edge of the bed. San thrust into your mouth, and Wooyoung slid into your pussy.
They fucked you without any kind of rhythm, your body jerking back and forth as they moved in and out of you. You shut your eyes, along for the ride. Spit dripped down your chin as San hit the back of your throat with each thrust, and there was an obscene wet slapping sound as Wooyoung fucked your pussy.
There wasn’t any kind of rhyme or reason to this, but you were in so deep you didn’t care. It felt so fucking good to be used by them that you would’ve done about anything at that point if they’d just keep going.
Wooyoung grunted a few times. “So fucking tight, even after Sannie was just inside you. Can you taste yourself on his cock?”
San tangled his fingers in your hair to keep you in place as he kept going. “I don’t mean to be so rough, baby, but your mouth is just… fuck, it feels so good. I can’t help myself. You understand, right?”
You came again, at the same time as San, who pulled out of your mouth to cum all over your face. It dripped off of you as he gently combed his hand through your hair. “Is Woo fucking you so good, baby?”
“Mhm.” You whined, leaning into his touch even as the aftershocks of your orgasm still arced through you. “Good, Sannie.”
“Beautiful kitty. Woo’s gonna cum and then… and then we’ll see what he wants to do, okay? You can talk, if you like.”
You nodded, pushing yourself back onto Wooyoung’s cock. “He feels so good.”
“Fuck.” Wooyoung’s pace stammered. “I’m so close, kitty. So good for me.”
It wasn’t long before he came inside you with a groan. You whimpered through his orgasm.
Slowly, Wooyoung pulled out, and you could feel his cum dripping out of you. You fell on your side, breathing hard.
“Perfect kitty.” Wooyoung moved to spoon you, and San cuddled you from the front. You closed your eyes, so content in their presence you could’ve fallen asleep, and in fact you might have if Wooyoung hadn’t started to touch your clit again.
You whined, squirming.
“I told you I’d have to punish you, didn’t I?” Wooyoung whispered mischievously. “That means you don’t stop until I say stop.”
“Yes, sir.” You pushed back into his hand.
“Look at you.” He laughed softly. “You still want it. Needy little kitty.”
You knew Wooyoung could be sadistic. He’d fuck you into overstimulation and past it until you were begging for mercy. He’d use San to help overwhelm your body.
Smut warnings: some sexual content, aftercare, sub Reader/dom Member dynamics, degradation, pet play, choking, electro play
Thank you @sangis-puppy for making me roll down this hill, splendid having you in my DMs.
Wooyoung:
Wooyoung totally doesn't mind having a little pet at his feet; he's going to be so excited about having you wear a collar, and get something that makes it very obvious that the moment you wear it, you are no longer to be considered a human. It's going to be cute - likely in black for that hue of elegance, or a red one that looks like Wooyonyang's! With something like a bone or paw-shaped pendant, or a bell.
He will go insane for any pet-like behaviors you display. He will enjoy subtle degradation - waving dry food snacks in front of your face, teasing you about it even if you refuse the food itself. Casually chaining you somewhere so you cannot move too far - not in an uncomfortable way, but in a humiliating one. He will train you as well!
And when he's done messing with you, he will reward you with snacks - any form of candy or chocolate that you like, but still having you ask for it in a pet-like fashion. When you put your head in his lap, he will stroke your hair until you fall asleep.
He can and will attach a tag with his phone number and a note "If I am lost, please return me to Jung Wooyoung".
Source: AliExpress. If you're more of a kitty type, it can be one with a paw pendant instead!
Jongho:
It was the most difficult for me to pick one for Jongho, so I decided to stick with something that is a bit on the tamer side, but can still make an impact: the recently-famous chain necklace that you can pull on! It likely have been your idea to try it in the first place, but Jongho is going to enjoy it much, much more than he lets on.
He is definitely a brat tamer, and this is a perfect tool. Because sitting around your neck, casually, you might forget it's there - just a subtle piece of jewelry. But when you say one word too much or give him a look, he will grab the end before wrapping it around his wrist a few times, and in two seconds, you will be fighting for your dear life, tipping on your toes, with his face right above you, looking at you in this condescending manner that will quickly put you in your place.
I imagine as the time goes on, he will be willing to try different types of collars to find what works best. He likes what allows him to have control over you, so any training collars will be just perfect. Anything sturdy enough to manhandle and rough you up!
Source: ademishia.com. I think that he could also go the same route as Hongjoong as a dom, but I wanted to keep it more diverse!
Mingi:
This could go a few different ways, however, consider: a prong collar, a thick one. A heavy piece of metal that weighs on you at all times, tiring your neck, a form of feral claim, a way to constantly remind you of your place. He would beg to wear one too, if you were into that as well.
Mingi will be very much into pet play in its more primal form. You are his bitch and everything resolves around that. The collar doesn't hurt much on default - it tires your neck slowly and leaves very inconspicuous marks - more like a rash than actual damage. It's all the more degrading since said damage is mostly figurative. He can and will hold it to rough you up when he takes you from behind.
Your neck will tire out easily, and Mingi is not the type to keep you in it for too long. The moment you shyly ask him to take it off, he will be so, so careful, pepper your neck with kisses, hold you, basically turn into your own lap puppy. He will make sure to look over your neck closely and put a soothing balm of sorts - not like it's very needed, the small dots peppered all over your skin will disappear after a day or two, but it's this added bit of appreciation that you agreed to it in the first place.
Source: bridgeportk9equipment.com. He might get a regular dog one and then adjust it manually so it can be put on easily and sit snug around your neck!
San:
San enjoys seeing you all pretty and dolled up for him, so he will go with something of which sole purpose is to look cute and dainty - preferably in pink or white to showcase the innocence he associates you with (no matter if accurately or not...). Tulle, lace, ribbons - that's the vibe.
He wants nothing but to baby you, treat you like an angel, spoil you and care for you. If that includes arranging a very cute dog cage filled with pillows, plush toys, and mini lights, then so be it. If it's more about having you as his babygirl or a princess - anything you want, darling. Whatever it takes so you feel like you don't have to put a thought in your existence because he can do everything for you.
Since the piece is not very kinky per se, he will enjoy having you wear it in public. That little secret the two of you share of what it actually means, as if it's not just a piece of unique jewelry. He will sneak glances at you, smiling knowingly whenever you touch it thoughtlessly, or whenever you do something that hints to that deeper connection you two have, like asking him to hand you something from a higher shelf or pressing your head into his side as if asking for head pats. He just can't get enough of it, period.
Source: AliExpress. A different pendant is also an option if you don't want one with religious undertones! Any pretty thing will do.
Yunho:
Yunho would be like something between Wooyoung and San - something very, very pretty, but that will also unmistakably associate you with the pet you want to be. A customized text collar of high quality will be just about perfect!
He will buy a lot of letters so you can always change the text - it will be a form of communication between the two of you, a way of letting him know what mood you are in as the play begins. Are you his "puppy", his "good girl", or perhaps his "bitch" today? - communication is the key, duh!
Although, as a pleasure dom, Yunho will enjoy adjusting to your needs and wants, his favorite will always be the "puppy" version - similarly to Wooyoung, he loves nothing more than to have a little pet that he can care for and spoil and smother with affection. He will put his mouth and hands all over you until you cannot breathe - whether figuratively or literally, is only up to you!
Source: msoulart.com. Colors and the exact text is of course to be decided on, but the quality and elegance of it will remain!
Yeosang:
Yeosang is not a rough type, but he likes to make an impact on you. So, although it might be terrifying at first, I imagine he would love for you to wear a shock collar. The visual choice in these might not be the broadest, but once the two of you agree that it's what you like, he's going to have one handcrafted for you.
He really likes the idea of training you without putting much physical effort into it; if he sits down and holds a remote while giving you tasks and assessing whether or not you're doing them well enough? If he commands you into positions and makes you humiliate yourself and you already know that stalling is not a good idea? If you brat around and all he has to do is press a button to bring you to your knees? That's just about perfect.
Anything that involves this includes a lot of talking, research, and care involved in making sure it is all safe. But it also means the sweetest aftercare - he doesn't want you to worry for your health and he knows that constant stress can mess you up a little. He will be just so, so mindful of the way you react and will likely wrap up the scene a bit earlier than you think you can take, just to make sure he doesn't go overboard.
Source: honeysx.com. The visuals don't really matter for the first collar, as long as it does the work. Disclaimer: I am not encouraging you get one for yourself. Educate yourself first if you want to go in that direction!
Hongjoong:
Hongjoong is your traditional dom/master type. The collar is a very prominent symbol of ownership. Rather minimalist, but well-crafted and sending a clear message. Sturdy enough that it will sit securely and can be pulled on safely. Matching hand and ankle cuffs, and maybe a leash? Fuck yeah, he's going to have everything.
Although the idea remains the same, it will be customized depending on your choice. Hongjoong wants it to resonate with you personally so that you can grow comfortable with it - for him, that's the basis of having the best use out of it. So it might have a padlock for the extra thrill, but only if you want it to. Colors might wary depending on what you like, too. Added gems, letters, padding? Anything you want.
Only he is allowed to put it on and take it off - it's a symbolic moment of when your playtime begins and ends. Once it's on your neck, you are no longer your own person. At some point, you will be conditioned to go into subspace the moment it's secured. It takes time - but the two of you have all of it.
Source: AliExpress; I couldn't find a good photo of collar exclusively, but you get the drill. There are different color variations (my favorite is navy blue with golden elements... not like you asked but now you know), so that's something you could definitely discuss with Hongjoong!
Seonghwa:
Similarly as for San, although with quite a different feel to it, for Seonghwa, a collar is something that adorns you, so he is going to put a lot of effort in finding something that suits his taste... to simply make you pretty. The collar he picks might not end up looking like a collar, but more a piece of jewelry.
This thing is not meant to be pulled on, but he's obsessed with the way it looks like when he wraps his hand around your neck. Or when the background for it is the dark bruises left by his fingers. Or when he grabs your chin and tilts your head to look at it closer. Or when he makes you lie on your back at the edge of the bed and watches your throat bulge from him all the way down...
Factually, this is a regular piece of jewelry and he will lose all his cool if you decide to wear it outside of your bedroom. Match it with a dress and wear to a gala with the most innocent look on your face and he's not gonna be able to focus on anything to save his life. Be ready for the consequences, though.
Source: AliExpress. Except his choice would be more expensive than your monthly rent. Or yearly, depending how extra he's feeling. You might not even be aware until someone points it out at the gala.
I know it's a bit late and I should've asked this days ago but I have two scenarios in mind but I don't which one to choose so I let you choose 😭
Could we have something with dad! mingi (yes again..) where he doesn't know what to offer to reader on christmas so he goes for a walk to the mall while carrying his kids ?
Or...
Still with dad!mingi, something where one of the kids tells reader what's mingi's gift for her on christmas so mingi is sad because it isn't a suprise anymore.
I know it's late I'm really sorry 😭
please don’t EVER apologize for this it’s so precious! <3
the idea of him not knowing what to get the reader is so canon because what do you give the person who gave you a whole family?
ok let’s gaur cutie pie
warnings: CHRISTMAS FLUFF, dad!mingi, twins + older son
small note: did you guys watch the most recent ATEEZ episode all of them were so precious and Seonghwa got a Lego set all is right in the world
—————-
Mingi realizes he’s in trouble three days before Christmas.
The kids are easy.
The kids are always easy.
Your oldest wants the dinosaur set he’s been pointing at for six straight months. The twins—well. They’re babies. They’d be thrilled with wrapping paper and a cardboard box, and Mingi has still somehow bought them too many things. There are already neatly wrapped gifts hidden in the hall closet, labeled in his careful handwriting, color-coded bows because of course he did that.
But you?
You’re standing in the kitchen one evening, humming quietly as you wash dishes, one hip cocked, sweater sleeves pushed up, hair messy in the way that makes his chest ache.
And Mingi just stares.
What do you give someone like her?
Someone who gave him a home.
Someone who gave him children.
Someone who gave him mornings and bedtime routines and a reason to care about the future without being afraid of it.
He looks down at the babies strapped to his chest—your daughter tucked under his chin, warm and sleepy, your younger son gnawing happily on the string of his hoodie—and feels the familiar pressure building behind his eyes.
He swallows hard.
“…I’m gonna mess this up,” he whispers.
Your daughter sighs in her sleep.
Mingi gasps softly. “I know, right?”
⸻
The day before Christmas Eve, Mingi decides he needs to leave the house.
He tells you it’s to “run errands.”
This is technically true.
What he does not tell you is that he’s bringing all three kids because:
1. He doesn’t want to bother you
2. He likes having them with him
3. He feels braver when they’re close
You watch him bundle them up by the door—coats, mittens, hats, double-checking everything like he’s prepping for a polar expedition.
“Mingi,” you say gently, amused. “You know the mall is indoors, right?”
“I KNOW,” he says immediately. “But what if the parking lot is windy.”
Your oldest tugs on his pant leg. “Daddy, can we get pretzels?”
Mingi melts. Instantly. “Yes. Absolutely. Whatever you want. You deserve joy.”
You laugh as he hoists your son onto his hip, the twins already secured against his chest, and leans in to kiss your cheek.
“I’ll be back,” he promises, eyes soft. “Don’t lift anything heavy. Or light. Or at all.”
“…I’ll just stand here,” you tease.
“Perfect.”
⸻
The mall is chaos.
Lights everywhere. Music playing. People rushing around with bags and strollers and caffeine-fueled determination.
Mingi enters like a very tall, very tired shepherd with three small sheep.
Your oldest points at everything.
The twins blink slowly, overwhelmed but calm, pressed against their dad’s steady heartbeat.
Mingi pauses in front of the first jewelry store.
He stares.
Then frowns.
Then shakes his head.
“No,” he mutters. “Too… small.”
Your daughter stirs. He immediately starts bouncing.
“Sorry, sorry, sorry—Daddy’s thinking too loud.”
Next is a clothing store.
He lifts a sweater from a rack, holds it up, imagines it on you.
His chest tightens.
“What if it’s itchy,” he whispers. “What if she lies and says she likes it.”
Your oldest squints at him. “Mama always likes stuff.”
Mingi smiles sadly. “Yeah. That’s the problem.”
He wanders. Window to window. Store to store.
Perfume? Too impersonal.
Shoes? What if the size is wrong.
Candles? What if she associates the scent with stress instead of home.
He sits on a bench eventually, exhausted, kids piled against him, hands rubbing soothing circles into tiny backs.
“I don’t know how to say thank you,” he admits quietly.
Your younger son babbles.
Mingi nods seriously. “Exactly. That’s what I’m saying.”
⸻
It’s not until he passes a small shop tucked between bigger stores that he stops.
Mingi’s heart pounds as he selects a frame—not fancy, just warm. He chooses a photo he has saved on his phone. One you don’t even know he took.
You, asleep on the couch.
One baby on your chest.
One curled at your side.
Your oldest sprawled across your legs.
Safe. Loved. Home.
He adds a small engraved charm—three tiny birthstones, one for each child.
On the back, he asks for just four words:
“Still choosing you. Always.”
When it’s done, his hands shake.
He holds the bag like it’s sacred.
“Okay,” he whispers to the kids. “I think… I think this is it.”
Your daughter yawns.
Mingi kisses the top of her head, eyes wet. “Yeah. Me too.”
⸻
Christmas Morning
The house smells like coffee and cinnamon.
Wrapping paper is everywhere.
Your oldest is already halfway inside a box. The twins are fascinated by a bow.
Mingi sits beside you, knee bouncing, gift in his lap.
He hands it to you like it might explode.
“I—um,” he starts. “I didn’t know what to get you.”
You smile softly. “You never do.”
“I know,” he says, relieved you’re teasing. “Because every time I try, I keep thinking… how do you wrap gratitude?”
You open it.
You see the photo.
You freeze.
Mingi watches your face like it’s the most important thing in the world.
“I just—” his voice cracks. “That was the moment I realized I was happy without being scared of it.”
Tears spill down your cheeks.
You touch the charm. Read the words.
“Oh, Mingi…”
He panics instantly. “Is it bad—?”
You pull him into a kiss that steals the breath right out of his lungs.
“It’s perfect,” you whisper. “You’re perfect.”
He exhales like he’s been holding his breath for years.
Your oldest climbs into his lap. The twins babble happily.
Mingi wraps his arms around all of you, forehead pressed to yours, voice trembling.
“Thank you,” he says. “For my family.”
You smile through tears. “You built it with me.”
He sniffles. “Please stop saying things that make me cry. It’s Christmas.”
Your daughter squeaks.
Mingi gasps. “She agrees.”
And the house fills with laughter, warmth, and the kind of love that doesn’t need wrapping paper to be felt.
⸻
ok i really hope you liked this i rushed it because i wanted to put this out Christmas Day (also merry Christmas everyone i hope you guys enjoy your day and gifts and whatever else you’re doing)
tinted windows don't hide the sound of you getting split open
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 yeosang x f!reader x seonghwa
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢warnings!: smut, pure filth, m/f/m threesome, established relationship w/ yeo, alcohol consumption/drunk sex, semi-public sex, squirting, overstimulation, rough sex, oral (m!f! receiving), cum play, spit play, spanking, attempted DP, degradation & praise, rip reader's cervix, marking/biting, toe sucking (brief), creampies, light aftercare, could be more
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 quick intermission on syncink, purely self-indulgent nonsense, hands down the messiest & most unorganized thing i've written lmao if you make it to the end you deserve a medal or therapy idk
You weren’t planning to be almost nerfed by a taxi stepping out the club.
The taxi came out of nowhere, one second you were stumbling off the curb, the next Yeosang was yanking you back against his chest, your heel catching on the concrete as the cab's horn blared past.
"You’ve gotta be kidding me," he breathed into your hair, his heart hammering against your shoulder blades. His hand splayed across your stomach, fingers pressing into your dress.
"You trying to give me a heart attack, baby?"
The bass from the club still thrummed in your ear, mixing with the adrenaline and the eight patron shots you should’ve said no to, quite literally on the verge of pissing yourself.
You turned in his arms, and the movement made the high slit of your dress fall open, exposing your thigh.
"Sorry-yy," you said, not sorry at all. Your hands found his chest, god his chest is fucking divine, sliding up to loop around his neck. "But I need to get you home. Like, now."
Yeosang's eyes dropped to where your dress opened. His blonde hair was still messy from your fingers earlier on the dance floor, and his face was flushed from alcohol, from the heat, from you.
"Yeah? That urgent?"
"You know I wanna jump your bones like 24/7." You pressed closer, feeling the way your nipples hardened, knowing he could feel it too through his shirt. "Been thinking bout’ it all night."
His hand slid lower, fingers grazing the bare skin of your thigh through the slit. "Babe, you're gonna kill me before we even get there." But he was smiling, those perfect white teeth.
"Let me call us a ride before you do something that gets us arrested for public indecency."
"That's taking too long," you whined, your hand dropping to palm him through his pants. He was already half-hard. "Can't we just—"
"In one piece," he said firmly, catching your wrist even as his hips pressed forward into your touch. "I need you in one piece. And conscious. And preferably not in the back of a cop car."
You pouted, admitting defeat, letting him pull your hand away. It was chilly out, handing off his jacket because he just knew the complaining was about to begin.
“Yeo, I’m shaking like a stripper. Where is the damn car?”
He clicked his teeth; he hates it when you get upset, and it’s cold without his jacket on. He pulled his phone from his back pocket to check the current drivers.
“Fuck, no cabs are local right now.”
“Why didn’t we take the company car again?”
He rolls his eyes, mimics you, “‘Let’s be like normal civilians going to the club, no cameras, no chauffeur.’”
“I DO NOT sound like that.” You trip again as you try to whip around and give him a look. He steadies you once more, body pressed against the front of him.
At this point, he’s not even hiding how he was groping you
He checked the app one more time for the cabs with no luck, to put you both out of misery.
“This is so damn impossible right now.”
“Need a ride?”
You nearly break an ankle when you jump out of Yeosang’s arms to turn and see Seonghwa.
He was club hopping with the group you were with, but you thought he had already dispersed somewhere else. He had his hair tied back, a black dress suit, just the image of composure.
The opposite of what you and Yeosang were.
Seonghwa takes in the scene of you bent over a bit, trying to fix the strap on your heel. Yeosang is crouched down, trying to block onlookers' views; he’s failing.
Seonghwa lingers on the bare skin your slit reveals, can tell you’re also slightly inebriated. It’s all amusing to him.
“Or you two gonna continue giving the street a show?”
Yeosang finally turns around to properly acknowledge Seonghwa. “Hwa?” He’s not surprised to see him, just forgot, as usual.
Yeosang gives him a blank stare, nothing behind those pretty eyes.
“Yeosang.” Seonghwa’s voice was always smooth to you, like, get this man on a podcast right away, at least he wouldn’t say dumb shit.
“Hey, lightweight. Having trouble?”
You take the praise back.
“One. fuck you. Two. I ammm nottt a lightweight! You know this.” The slight slur of your words is not helping your case.
You straighten up a bit, a bit flustered as you notice how high your dress rose up from bending over. You’re horrible at playing it cool when in reality you're just drunk and so damn horny.
“I have my car, driver’s around the corner.”
Yeosang side eyes you, “See, someone came prepared.”
“Beats waiting for a cab that’s not gonna show.” Seonghwa is addressing both of you, but you take note of how his eyes drift to you every now and again.
Yeosang double-checks with you one more time, you give him a hesitant nod, knowing that you were all over him on the street. You know you’re just gonna combust in the car with anticipation.
Yeosang wraps his hands around your waist from behind, head resting on your shoulder.His breath heating your ear and along your neck.
He whispers, it sends more chills. “Gonna behave in this car, kay?”
Seonghwa agrees to drop both of you off for the sake of your dignity. He waves down the car as it turns the corner.
“The partition works,” Seonghwa adds, too casually. “In case ya know–want some privacy.”
The words just sit there between you as you all exchange looks, because the dude has gotta be joking, right?
Rightttt?
You clench your thighs, Yeosang’s arms tighten around you, his breathing getting heavier.
Seonghwa has a knowing look; he’s smirking. A menacing look..
“Unless you’d rather I keep it down?”
Yeosang clears his throat, “We’ll take the damn ride.”
The sedan parks next to the curb, the tinted windows, the ones so dark to protect whoever is riding in them.
In this case, it’s Park Seonghwa and Kang Yeosang, perfection.
You reach for the back door at the same time as Seonghwa, hands touching. He helps you slide into the backseat while Yeosang gets in from the other side.
The seats are leather, seatwarmers are on, low lighting, and the car smells brand new. It's just the complete contrast to the state of mind you’re in.
Your dress slides up, you accidentally flash your thigh to Seonghwa in the process. “Be careful.” You catch him looking, and he doesn’t give two fucks that you did.
Yeosang slides his hand over your lap, yanking your dress down, making direct eye contact as he looks up at Seonghwa, who’s still hanging on the door next to you.
You can tell Yeosang is barely holding it together. He whispers in your ear again, “shit, just behave.”
Seonghwa hops in the front passenger seat, adjusts the rearview, even though he’s not driving, his chauffeur is.
Makes eye contact with both of you in the backseat. “Comfy?”
He motions to the driver, “Both of 'em, Yeo’s place.” Seonghwa pressed the button, and the privacy partition began to rise, tinted glass sliding up between the front and back seats until it sealed with a soft click.
Yeosang's hand was still on your thigh, fingers digging in hard.
You turned to look at him. His eyes were fucked, pupils blown, that look he gets when he's past the point of pretending to have self-control.
"C'mere," he said, and yanked you into his lap before you could even respond.
You barely got your knees on either side of him before his mouth was on yours. His hands went straight to your ass, pulling you down against him, and yeah, he was hard as hell. You could feel every inch of him through his pants.
You ground down, and he made this noise in his throat, half-groan, hands already shoving your dress up.
"Shit," he muttered, breaking the kiss to look at you. His hair was messy from your hands, lips swollen.
"Can't believe you wore this dress."
"You like it?" You rolled your hips again just to watch his eyes flutter.
His hands slid down to your ass, squeezing hard, then he shifted you until you were straddling just one of his thighs.
"Ride it," he said. "C'mon, show me pretty baby."
He pressed his thigh up and the friction hit just right. You gasped, hands bracing on his shoulders as you started moving, grinding down.
Dry humping, a lost art.
"Wait—fuck," Yeosang said, eyes going wide. "Are you not—"
"Nope." You didn't stop moving, grinding down harder.
"You're shitting me." His hands tightened on your hips, pulling you down so hard you gasped. "You've been walking around all night with no—"
"Told you I was ready."
"Fuck." He looked wrecked already, staring at where you were riding his thigh, and you could feel how wet you were getting, soaking straight through his pants.
He groaned, one hand sliding up to grip your jaw.
"Open for me," he leaned in and spit directly into your mouth.
You swallowed, eyes locked on his, and his grip got tighter.
"Just so hot," he muttered, and then his hand was between your legs, fingers on your clit, rubbing in tight circles that made your thighs shake. "C'mon, baby. Wanna feel you come on my thigh."
The combination of his thigh and his fingers was so much. You were already wound so tight from the club, from teasing him all night, and it only took a few more grinds before you were coming.
Yeosang didn't let up, kept you grinding through it, his fingers still working your clit until you were shaking and had to swat his hand away.
"Fuck," you breathed, slumping against his chest.
"One down," he said.
You caught your breath for maybe five seconds before your hands were at his belt, fumbling with the buckle.
"Need you," you said, fingers clumsy from the alcohol and the orgasm still buzzing through you. "Yeo, please—"
"So needy," he said, but he was already lifting his hips, helping you shove his pants down just enough to get his cock out.
It was already leaking, and you wanted to put your mouth on it, started to lean down, but he caught you by the hair.
"Later," he said. "Get up here."
He pulled you back onto his lap, lined himself up, and you felt the head of his cock pressing against your entrance. You were so wet he slid in easy, both of you groaning.
You both just breathed for a second, adjusting, and then you couldn't wait anymore. Started moving, bouncing on him, hands braced on his shoulders because the car was cramped as hell.
"Shit—just like that," Yeosang groaned. "Fuck, you're so sooo tight."
Your dress was bunched up around your waist, tits bouncing every time you moved, and you caught him staring, couldn't decide where to look. Your face, your chest, where he was disappearing inside you.
He leaned forward, buried his face between your tits, mouth hot and wet on your skin. Then pulled back and spit right on your chest.
You moaned, and he rubbed it in with both hands, before yanking you down into a kiss. Messy, all tongue, and you could hear the wet slap of skin every time you came down on him.
"Get off—" he said, pulling you up. "Spit on it."
You leaned down, let spit drip from your mouth onto his cock, and he groaned, used his hand to spread it before pulling you back down.
The car was definitely rocking on moving wheels. You were being loud, but you couldn't stop.
Yeosang started fucking up into you, hard, taking over completely. You just held on, head thrown back, nails digging into his shoulders.
"Yeo," you gasped, "Yeo, wait, I—"
"Come on," he said, voice wrecked. "Fucking give it to me."
The pressure kept building, almost uncomfortable, and you tried to say something but his hand on your throat and the way he was hitting your cervix was delicious.
The gush of liquid, your whole body locking up as you came so hard. You were making sounds you'd never made before, and distantly you remembered wetness everywhere, soaking his lap, dripping onto the leather seats.
"Holy fuck," Yeosang choked out, and he kept going, kept fucking you through it. "Baby, fuck, you're—shit—"
You couldn't stop shaking. It felt like it went on forever, your body just giving and giving until you were just fully spent.
When you finally came down, you realized how much of a mess you'd made. His pants were drenched. The seats were wet. Your thighs were sticky.
"Oh my god," you said, voice hoarse. "Did I just—"
"Mhm." Yeosang sounded dazed. He was still inside you, still hard. "You just—fuck, that was—"
The car wasn't moving, you both froze.
The engine was off. You'd stopped. Which meant you'd arrived, which meant…
"Shit," you breathed, looking around at the fogged windows, the soaked seats, the absolute disaster you'd made of Seonghwa's car.
Yeosang's hands were still on your hips, gentler now. "That was new."
"I know, I—I didn't know I could—"
Seonghwa twisted in the passenger seat, partition down, driver standing outside, and the look on his face made your stomach flip.
Not mad. Hungry.
His eyes dragged over everything, you still on Yeosang's lap, dress bunched up, thighs spread, the wet mess everywhere. The fogged windows. The smell of sex.
"Busy back there?" His voice was low, and the tent in his pants was obvious.
Yeosang's hands tightened on your hips, again. You were still stuffed full of him, could feel him twitching inside you.
"Sorry about your car." Your brain was fuzzy, body still buzzing.
Seonghwa's eyes met yours. "Are you?"
Hell no, not in the slightest.
You shifted on Yeosang's lap, making him groan. "You just gonna sit there, or you gonna help?"
Yeosang's breath hitched. His jaw clenched, something jealous in his eyes, but you could feel how hard he still was inside you.
"She's lovely," Yeosang said, hands sliding up your sides.
Seonghwa climbed into the back, and suddenly the space was way too small for three people.
"Let's see if you can keep up," you said, and Seonghwa's smile was sharp.
His hand landed on your thigh, and the touch was different from Yeosang's. You grabbed his wrist and moved it higher, right where you wanted it.
"Don't be shy now."
Seonghwa's fingers slid through the mess between your legs, and you gasped. Oversensitive, but you wanted more.
He brought his fingers to his mouth, tasted them. "Sweet." His eyes locked on yours. "Yeosang's been holding out on me."
"Fuck off," Yeosang muttered.
Seonghwa leaned in and kissed you. His tongue was in your mouth, tasting like you, and when you broke apart to catch your breath, Yeosang was right there.
He pulled you into a kiss, reminding you exactly who you were with at the start.
When that kiss ended, you turned back to Seonghwa, testing. His hand came up to cup your jaw, thumb brushing your bottom lip. "You always let him share his toys?"
"I'm not a toy," you said.
"No?" Seonghwa's smile was dangerous. "Then show me what you want."
Yeosang's hand fisted in your hair, yanking you back hard enough to make you gasp. There was something raw in his expression you'd never seen before.
"My girl," he said.
Your pussy clenched at the tone. "Then fuck me like it."
For a second he just stared at you, jaw working, and then his grip in your hair tightened until it hurt. "You want me to show him who you belong to?"
His other hand wrapped around your throat, "Want me to fuck you sooo good he knows nobody else gets you like this?"
"Yes," you breathed.
"Say it."
"Show him."
Something snapped. He pulled out of you and you whimpered at the loss, already missing the fullness. His hand left your throat to grip your jaw, forcing you to look at Seonghwa. "Watch. Watch what I do to her."
Then to Seonghwa, "Lie down."
Seonghwa raised an eyebrow, amused. "Giving orders now?"
"You want in or not?"
"Oh, I'm in." Seonghwa stretched out across the backseat, that long black hair fanning out. "Come here, lightweight. Let's see if you taste as good as you look."
You straddled his face, and his hands gripped your ass hard. The first swipe of his tongue made you gasp, licking up everything. Your cum, your wetness, Yeosang's precum. When he sucked on your clit, your thighs clamped around his head.
"Grind on me," he said against your pussy. "Don't be polite."
Yeosang was watching with his cock in his hand. "Get over here," you told him.
You took him in your mouth, tasting yourself, and his hand tangled in your hair, Seonghwa's tongue was relentless and you couldn't focus, couldn't do anything but take it from both ends.
"Nobody eats this pussy like I do." Yeosang's voice had that jealous edge you rarely heard. His hand in your hair, pulling you off his cock. "That's enough."
He yanked you off Seonghwa's face completely, Seonghwa made a noise of protest, his chin wet with you.
"The fuck, Yeosang—"
"She's mine." Yeosang's voice was sharp, final. He pulled you back against his chest, one hand splayed across your stomach, the other sliding between your legs. "You're here because I'm letting you be here. Don't forget that."
Seonghwa's eyes went dark. "Noted."
"Say it," Yeosang demanded, fingers circling your clit, making you whimper. "Tell him whose cock you choke on every night, who you're with."
"You," you gasped. "Yours, Yeo, I'm yours—"
"Good girl." He bent you over the center console, your ass in the air, face pressed against leather. "Now I'm gonna prove it."
Yeosang slammed back into you. The angle was brutal. He wasn't holding back anymore."Who fucks you this good?" he demanded.
"You—fuck, Yeo—"
Seonghwa reached for your foot and sucked your toes into his mouth. The unexpected sensation made you clench around Yeosang and he groaned, fucking you harder.
The car rocked on its suspension, definitely obvious to anyone outside, but you were way past caring.
Your tits were hanging down, bouncing with every thrust, and Seonghwa grabbed them roughly, spit dripping from his mouth onto your chest.
He rubbed it in with both hands before leaning down and biting, hard enough to make you yelp, his teeth leaving marks on the skin.
"Fuck," you gasped, and Yeosang spanked your ass in response.
"She likes that," Yeosang said, voice rough. "Do it again."
Seonghwa bit the other one, then sucked a bruise into the curve of your breast, his tongue soothing over the sting.
But you couldn't focus. There was too much happening. Yeosang's cock hitting your cervix, Seonghwa's mouth on your tits now, biting and sucking.
That pressure was building again. "Yeo, I'm gonna—"
"Do it," he gritted out. "Fucking do it."
You squirted again, gushing around his cock, and Yeosang pulled out just in time for it to spray everywhere.
Some of it hit Seonghwa square in the chest. He looked down at himself, then back up at you with a feral smile. "Fuck. Do that again."
Yeosang dropped to his knees in the cramped space, mouth on you before you could even process it, drinking you down like he was dying of thirst.
"Oh my god—" You couldn't stop shaking, his tongue still working you, licking and sucking.
He sat back, face soaked, looking feral. "Hwa's turn."
"Sit," you told Seonghwa, already moving.
You freed his cock, thick and pretty, and he caught your wrist before you could sink down.
"Slowly," he said, eyes locked on yours. "Wanna watch you take every inch."
You lowered yourself in one slow motion that had you both groaning.
"There she is," Seonghwa said, hands gripping your hips. "Now show me what all that noise was about."
The stretch was different, the angle hitting new spots, and you rode him hard. Used him. Yeosang's hands found your tits from behind, pinching your nipples until you gasped.
"Harder."
He slapped them instead, sharp stings that made you clench. Seonghwa groaned, guiding your hips, and Yeosang bit down on your shoulder hard enough to bruise.
Then your neck. Your ear. Marking you up while you fucked his friend.
"Open," Seonghwa said, and spit in your mouth. You swallowed, then grabbed his face and kissed him. Turned and kissed Yeosang, passing it to him.
"Dirty girl," Yeosang murmured.
You were close, grinding your clit against Seonghwa with every roll. Yeosang's hand slid down and slapped your pussy, right on your clit.
You nearly screamed. "Again—"
He did it. Once, twice, three times, until you were coming, clenching around Seonghwa's cock so hard he cursed.
"Gonna cum," Seonghwa groaned.
"Inside." You felt the hot pulse of him coming inside you. You kept moving, milking him, until he was gasping and oversensitive.
When you climbed off, cum dripped down your thighs. Yeosang spread your legs, watching it leak out, then shoved two fingers inside you.
"Look at this mess." He pushed Seonghwa's cum back in, fucking you with his fingers before pulling them out and pressing them to your lips. You sucked them clean, tasting everything.
He didn't give you time to recover. Just lined himself up and slid in, groaning at how wet and used you were. Cum squelching with every thrust.
"Fuck, you're so full," he said, and you were. Could feel both of them inside you, the stretch almost too much when he bottomed out and hit your cervix.
"Too deep?"
"Don't you dare stop."
He fucked you harder, deeper, until tears were streaming down your face and you couldn't tell if it was too much or not enough. Seonghwa leaned in, wiped your tears with his thumb, then circled your clit with the wetness.
That did it. You came sobbing, clenching around Yeosang as he groaned and added his load to the mess. You could feel it, so much cum leaking out around his cock, dripping onto the seats.
"Wait," you gasped through the haze. "Both of you."
They both looked at you.
"Both of you. At the same time."
"Baby, I don't think—" Yeosang started.
"Try."
"Fuck, okay."
It took maneuvering, you on your back, legs spread wide, Yeosang still buried inside you. Seonghwa lined up next to him and the first push made you gasp. The stretch hurt like hell but you wanted it anyway.
He got halfway before you had to tap out. "Wait—fuck, too much—"
He pulled back immediately, but those few seconds of being that full had you shaking.
"Holy shit," you breathed. "Almost."
"You're fucking insane," Yeosang said, grinning.
When he thrust again, your pussy made this wet sound, all the air and cum getting pushed around.
"Oh my bejeezus," you said, mortified for half a second.
"Don't," Seonghwa said. "That's hot as fuck."
Yeosang groaned. "Do it again."
He fucked you harder and the sound got worse, louder, your body making noises you couldn't control. But they were both so into it.
They started passing you between them after that. Seonghwa pulled you onto his cock while Yeosang moved to your mouth.
You took him deep, gagging yourself on purpose, trying to see how far you could go. Spit dripped down your chin as you choked on him.
"Fuck, look at her," Seonghwa said, watching you struggle. "She's trying so hard."
You pulled off, gasping. "I can take more."
"Yeah?" Yeosang's hand fisted in your hair.
You forced yourself down until your nose hit his pelvis, throat convulsing around him. Held it until you couldn't breathe, then pulled off coughing.
"Good girl," he said, and the praise made you clench around Seonghwa.
Then they switched. Yeosang pounding into your pussy while Seonghwa fed you his cock. You took him just as deep, determined, and he cursed when you swallowed around him.
"Gonna cum," Seonghwa warned, pulling out of your mouth.
You opened wide, and he came on your tongue, warm and bitter. Before you could swallow, Yeosang stilled inside you and grabbed your face, kissing you hard, taking half of it into his mouth.
You passed it back and forth between kisses, messy and gross and so damn hot, until you both finally swallowed.
Time blurred. More orgasms, more cum. Yeosang filled you up again, a third time, and you were leaking everywhere.
Your cervix ached. Your tits were covered in bite marks. Your ass stung from being spanked. You were utterly destroyed.
"I can't," you finally sobbed, pushing weakly at whoever was touching you. "I'm done, I can't—"
"Okay, baby, okay." Yeosang pulled you against his chest. "You're done. You did so good."
Seonghwa grabbed your dress and wiped between your legs, cleaning up the mess still leaking out of you.
The fabric came away soaked.
"Open," Yeosang said softly. He wadded up the cum-soaked part of the dress and pushed it into your mouth.
You could taste all of it, your cum, their cum, your squirt, everything. You gagged a little but kept it there, looking up at them with tear-stained cheeks.
"Fuck, look at her," Seonghwa said.
"Hold on." Yeosang grabbed his phone. "Can I—"
You nodded, and he took a picture, then Seonghwa took one. You, naked and wrecked and gagged with your own dress, covered in marks and cum.
Yeosang pulled the dress out of your mouth and you gasped for air.
"One more thing," Seonghwa said, and he scooped cum from between your legs, you didn't even know whose it was at this point, and held his fingers to your lips.
You opened your mouth, and he fed it to you. Then he did it again. And again. Making you swallow every drop he could collect, a whole cocktail of cum.
"So nice," he murmured, and you whimpered.
When he was done, you collapsed back against the seat. Your body was still twitching with aftershocks.
For a minute, nobody moved. Just heavy breathing and your occasional whimper.
Then Yeosang was pulling you back into his lap, gentler this time. His hand smoothed down your back while Seonghwa found someone's jacket and draped it over your shoulders.
"You okay?" Yeosang asked quietly, lips against your temple.
"Mhm." Your voice was shot. "Just... holy shit."
"Yeah." He huffed a laugh. "Holy shit."
Seonghwa handed you a water bottle from somewhere up front. You didn't even question where it came from, just drank half of it in one go.
"So," Seonghwa said after a moment, looking around at the destroyed interior. The soaked leather seats, the fogged windows, the smell that would definitely never come out. "We're never getting the deposit back on this car."
You started laughing, and then Yeosang was laughing too, and suddenly all three of you were cracking up in the ruined backseat.
"Worth it though," you said when you could breathe again.
Yeosang kissed your shoulder, right over one of the bite marks he'd left. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." You looked between them, Yeosang with his fucked-up hair and swollen lips, Seonghwa with your release still drying on his face. "Definitely worth it."
Seonghwa met your eyes, something unreadable in his expression. "This happening again?"
You felt Yeosang tense slightly behind you. Possessive, but not stopping you from answering.
"Maybe," you said. Then, because you couldn't help yourself, "If you can keep up next time."
Yeosang laughed against your neck, and even Seonghwa cracked a smile.
"Guess we'll see," Seonghwa said.
Outside, the sky was starting to lighten. You were naked in a destroyed car with your boyfriend and his friend, covered in evidence of what you'd just done, and you'd probably regret at least some of this soon.
⟶ you’d been tutoring him with his classes. history of magic, herbology, transfigurations, potions. your sweet, shy, caring friend yeosang… how shameless he becomes after you both ingest the most dangerous, illegal lust potion to exist.
𓄃 happy birthday to me, this is my gift for all of you!!!
𓄃 day twelve of @chimivx and i’s kinktober!
𓄃 wizard!yeosang x fem!reader | wc ~7k
𓄃 heed the warnings im not your mother: smut minors dni, this fic is very sex-pollen esque, they’re both intensely horny, virgin!reader, strong beefy ponytailed yeosang, oral f!receiving, multiple rounds, p in v, lotta unprotected creampies :p loosely based on hp universe but if u dont know hp its fine they’re just wizards, fuck you jk rowling
You can hear them before you see them, huddled up together in the lounge, cackling so loud the sound reverberates throughout the stone corridor your penny loafers carried you through. High archways, open air windows, intricate carvings into stone that no human hand could have perfected, you try to ignore the paintings that moved with your steps.
You turn the corner into the lounge, a palm softly caressing the heavy, arched wooden doorframe, double doors that opened up into the vast, candle-lit space. Green velvet chairs that matched the curtains draped over floor to ceiling windows, only one or two stayed open during the day, typically drawn shut so students could study calmly.
Calmly.
“You three are so loud,” you snarl as your penny loafers click to a stop before the three chairs huddled in a triangle, a deep, black table in the center, holding thick books and chalices of god knows what. With a hand on your hip, the other arm holding books pressed to your chest, you keep your voice quiet but sharp, “This room is for studying, you know.”
San makes a show of looking around him, at the lack of people occupying the lounge. Almost ten, maybe fifteen chairs took up space, five tables amongst them, maybe three people occupying them. You let your eyes dance over the almost empty room before landing back on San, his slicked back hair, the black robe hanging over his shoulders, the yellow illuminating the breadth.
You stand your ground, “Just because it’s not busy in here doesn’t mean you need to be obnoxious.”
“We weren’t even loud,” Wooyoung argues, the blue in his robe
bringing out the chocolate of his eyes, the red undertone in his black hair that nearly lays over his lashes. His mouth twitches upward in a smirk, “We were just laughing. You should try it sometime.”
You slide your scowl to Yeosang, whose eyes dance between
the three of you, but he doesn’t interject. He never interjects, not when Wooyoung makes one of his infamous remarks towards you, nor when he encourages San into teasing you, too. Yeosang, quiet, timid and kind until it killed him, you wondered how you were both in the same House. Sometimes you wondered if you were tutoring him to bring out the bravery buried inside him, too.
“Whatever,” you huff, rolling your eyes. You turn your body to Yeosang, hands clutching your books to your chest a little harder, “Are you ready? It’s past three.”
Yeosang nods, black hair tied tightly behind his head, tendrils framing his face that curved just beneath his jaw. Both hands grip the armrests of the chair to help him stand, then he grabs his books from the table, his goblet, you had the same routine every other day. Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, the days you meet Yeosang here at three o’clock sharp to tutor him in everything. History of Magic, Herbology, Transfigurations, Potions, you remember the day your professor assigned Yeosang to you in hopes that you’d get him to at least pass.
“Good luck,” Wooyoung teases, a song in his tone, eyes trapped in crescents with how wide his grin spreads. He reaches into his pockets, “Hold on, don’t forget this.”
“I’m not taking that,” Yeosang huffs, “You shouldn’t even have that.”
“What is it?” You ask, eyeing the iridescent liquid in the small glass vial. It doesn’t look like any potion you’ve seen before.
“Liquid Luck,” Yeosang answers too quickly, waving his hands in front of Wooyoung who tips his head back in loud laughter. Your eyebrows furrow, you know the color of Liquid Luck, a molten gold that looks as lucky as it makes you, but you’ve never seen such a pearly, almost rainbow substance. Your curiosity makes you take a step forward, hand reaching out to touch it.
Yeosang lurches forward to snap the potion from between Wooyoung’s fingers before you get the chance, “You’re beyond help. Beyond saving, Wooyoung.”
Wooyoung just laughs louder, crinkles beside his uneven eyes, “You- You should try it out, man. Just see what happens, I’m curious.”
“You use it,” Yeosang stuffs the glass in his robe pocket, the red interior bustling outward at the movement, a bite in his tone you’ve never heard before. You’re standing frozen, eyes wide, confusion and surprise written all over your face.
“I’m not as lucky as you,” Wooyoung is smirking again, his eyes sliding to you right before he winks, long, dark lashes almost reaching his cheek as he does so. “I like ‘em to have a little attitude.”
Your top lip curls in disgust, “Ew, Jung Wooyoung. Never speak to me again.” You turn on your heel, penny loafers heading toward the private study room you and Yeosang always used. Turning your head behind you to Yeosang who had leaned towards Wooyoung, no doubt whispering words you didn’t want to hear, you called, “Let’s go, Yeosang.”
He straightens on command, following behind you to the study room. The room smelled faintly of morning mist leftover from the window that had most likely been cracked earlier in the day, paired with the same smell of magic and ancientness that wrapped around the school like a hug. You laid your books down on the wooden table, a long slab of oak that ate up half the space, benches lined on either side, a tall, full bookshelf against the wall. A lonely bar-cart sat in the corner, water and potions glittering the space for focus, listening, learning, golden goblets and tall jars atop a used, golden slate.
“I’m sorry about him,” Yeosang mutters quietly as the heavy door groans closed, the small metal lock latching louder than his voice.
You take your normal spot, and the bench cries as Yeosang sits down beside you. You give him a quick shake of your head, “Nothing I’m not used to.”
“You shouldn’t be used to it,” Yeosang’s voice is quiet, small, almost sheepish.
Your head turns, taking in the shape of his jaw, the slope of his nose. So beautiful he’d appear feminine if it wasn’t for the masculinity he bore in his chest, his shoulders, everywhere from the neck down. You open your Potions book to the page that you left off last on Wednesday, somewhere in the middle, a wit-sharpening draft Yeosang couldn’t memorize for shit. The same draft charmed to keep itself filled kept in the corner of the study rooms.
You huff, “It is what it is.” Spreading your hands on each page, covering the contents of the book, you turned to him again, “You studied?”
Yeosang’s lips curled at the corner, “...Somewhat.”
“The exam is on Monday, Yeo,” you slant your eyebrows, pointing your gaze. “That whole time you were giggling with San and Wooyoung you could have been memorizing.”
“I’m sorry,” he frowns, a crease forming between his brows, “I looked over it last night.”
“You swear?” You ask, pulling the book towards you, not waiting for his answer. “Recite it to me then.”
His cheeks heat a pretty pink color, kissing the high points, spreading wide over his nose. His voice is quiet, uneasy, slightly high-pitched as he counts on his fingers, “Water, ginger…”
“And?” You raise your brows, “There’s only four ingredients, Yeosang.”
“Something with beetles…” He makes a disgruntled face, features morphing together. “...Armadillo.”
Your lips curl into a grin, “So close.”
He meets your eye with nothing but uncertainty swirling in deep brown, “Scab beetles.”
“Scarab beetles.”
“Right, right. Armadillo…”
“Bile.”
“Yes!”
“I’ll actually accept that,” your eyebrows raise, mouth bending to show how impressed you were. Usually Yeosang didn’t remember anything past water. “Now tell me how to brew it.”
“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath, and the word falling from his lips so shamelessly makes you choke on your spit, a laugh tumbling form your chest.
“I don’t think that’s a step,” you giggle, then attempt to look serious again, “Don’t curse, it’s foul.”
“I’m sorry,” his lips are still bent, humor and amusement in his eyes. “Simmer the water, add the… Scarab beetles, stir three times–”
“Five times,” you correct.
“Five times,” he nods, “Clockwise.”
“Counter-clockwise.”
He furrows his brows, “Clockwise.”
You tilt your head, lips smacking, “Counter-clockwise.”
“Check the book,” his eyes drop to the book you held to your chest and you peel it from your red-colored robes, eyes scanning the page. Right there, in clean cut handwriting, it says Clockwise.
You purse your lips, “I’m sorry, my fault. It’s clockwise.”
His smile is proud like he wants to pat himself on the back– the sight makes you giggle. You don’t get to see that look on him very often. With heat in your cheeks, you shake your head quickly, “Keep going.”
“Five times clockwise,” he nods his head as he speaks as if he’s committing the information to memory, searching for more inside his head, “Simmer five minutes. Add ginger, don’t stir, simmer again.”
“For how long?” You cock a brow.
“...Twenty minutes?” His eyes widened, looking to you for confirmation. When you nod, he smiles all teeth, and continues. “Let it cool, stir seven times every three minutes, clockwise and counter-clockwise. When it’s not hot anymore–”
“How do you check?”
“With a hand over the pot. Add the armadillo bile then, and let it sit for eight minutes.”
“Wow,” you breathe, “That was all, like, perfectly correct. I’m surprised and impressed.”
He claps his hands together ceremoniously, lips stuck together, curled at the edges and pursed in the center. You lean in closer, smelling the woody, black pepper, tea-leaf scent that was purely Yeosang, “Now tell me how to make it taste better.”
“Peppermint leaf on the tongue, not in the potion,” he nods, then meets your eye, pride evident
in his features. You clap your hands together, wide smile on your face, cheering for him like he had just won a world record. It was a huge deal to have a study session go so smoothly, so effortlessly– Usually studying was like pulling teeth with Yeosang.
“Temperature is key for this one,” you say after a minute of cheering, “You need to be vigilant with the fire while brewing, to keep it at a simmer. You don’t want it boiling.”
He nods with every word, letting them sink in, and you place the Potions book atop the wooden table again, hands landing just beside it, letting the cold, almost damp-feeling oak settle into your skin. A knock sounds at the door a moment later, and your necks snap to Wooyoung creaking the door open, a sly grin on his cheeks.
“Apologies, study-birds,” he teases, peeking his head around the slab of oak, “Can I get that vial of Desiderium back?”
Your jaw drops to the wood beneath your skull. You repeat, with eyebrows in your hairline, “Desiderium?!”
Yeosang huffs, an irritated breath, digging into his pockets for the glass. You choke on a laugh, “How the hell did you get your hands on Desiderium? You could get expelled for that, Jung Wooyoung.”
Wooyoung rolls his eyes and holds his hands out for Yeosang to toss the vial to him. He catches it swiftly between deft fingers, shooting Yeosang a nod of appreciation before his rebuttal, “Who cares.”
You stand, palms planted on the damp wood as Wooyoung makes his way over to the study bar, carelessness in his steps. You keep your voice quiet but harsh, “Wooyoung, Desiderium is banned, like banned banned. You could get somebody hurt, you could hurt yourself, that isn’t a toy or Viagra.”
He whips his head around, a nasty smirk on his lips, “You know what Viagra is?”
Your cheeks flush, back straightening, fingers curling before your robes. Voice smaller now, not as quiet or confident, you say, “Yes I know what Viagra is, I’m not a child.”
He pours himself a goblet of the wit-sharpening potion, taking a deep drink from the scratched golden chalice, you watch how his bumped nose dips into the cup, how his Adam’s apple expands with each gulp. He lets out a massive, verbal breath when the cup is drained, slamming the goblet back on the slate.
“Go to the bathroom and drain that vial, Woo.”
He raises his brows, “Do you know how much it took to even get this? Hell no.”
You crane your neck to look down at Yeosang who appears utterly thoughtless. With a strain in your voice, you try, “Yeosang, do something.”
“What am I supposed to do?” He asks, his voice genuine. “He did go through a lot to get it.”
You release a sound of disbelief, a sharp breath from your lungs. “Yeosang!” You whisper-yell, then turn back to Wooyoung who leans against the bar cart, “I can’t just let you carry that around with no consequence.”
“Who are you gonna tell?” Wooyoung raises his brows in amusement, “A professor? Head Girl?”
You sputter, “I- I’ll–”
The truth was, you didn’t want to tell anyone. You eyed his pocket, the crinkle of weight in the black robe, curiosity lighting up your mind. Desiderium was a banned potion across the wizard world, a worse love potion than Amortentia, it wasn’t even considered a love potion. It was an… Arousal potion of sorts, you’ve only heard stories of it, but you knew it wasn’t safe. If taken in large quantities it was toxic, resulting in a stomach-pumping spell or in worse cases, death. If taken in small quantities, it makes the consumer unbelievably horny, insatiable for hours, so aroused and consumed by lust they lose themselves completely.
You wondered, despite knowing it was banned. If that really was Desiderium, if it really does what it’s supposed to, what it feels like to be under the spell. You don’t have much experience in the sex area, or really in the arousal area entirely. Your life has always been centered around academics and competition, and your small group of friends that were more like you than someone like Wooyoung. You’d never had a boyfriend, or someone to pull that velvety feeling from your gut, you’ve never felt the feeling of losing yourself that you’ve overheard Wooyoung talk about when debriefing his hook-ups with San and Yeosang.
“You’ll what?” Wooyoung tilts his head in amusement.
“It’s fine,” Yeosang finally interjects, “He won’t do anything with it, he has no problem getting… no problem in that area.”
“Yeosang, that’s–”
He glances up at you, eyes clear, certain. You swallow down your disdain, your clear discomfort, the heated curiosity nipping at your cheeks. You sit down slowly, back in your place next to Yeosang, and Wooyoung giggles like a child.
“Have fun studying,” he winks again, and then he’s out the door in a flash.
You huff a breath when he’s no longer in sight, irritation biting at your skin, heating you beneath your robes. Pushing your hair behind your ears and flattening your skirt, you huff, “I’m just gonna pretend like that didn’t happen.”
“That’s best to do with most things concerning Wooyoung.”
“Well, do you think it’s right?” You’re facing him now, eyebrows back in your hairline, “He could do whatever he wants with Desiderium, he could give it to whoever he wants. That’s sick.”
“He’s not a bad guy,” he’s shaking his head fervently, his hands coming up to his chest in defense, “He’d never use it on someone without their knowledge or anything like that.”
“Then what’s the point of having it?” You argue, jaw tight, eyes focused.
“Well,” Yeosang cranes his neck slowly, a tilt to his head that means he doesn’t want to finish his sentence, “There’s this one girl, and he… They, you know. A lot. And there’s stuff he wants to try, and—”
“Okay,” you turn away, cheeks growing hot at the words leaving his mouth. For a moment you wonder if Yeosang has ever been with anyone like that, if he’s taken a sip of the Desiderium, if he ever thinks of getting that kind of… boost.
You shake your head to hopefully rid yourself of the thought, “I get it. But if he uses it on anyone,” you shoot him a sideways glance, “I can’t let that slide. I won’t be a bystander. You have to tell me.”
Yeosang nods what seems like a thousand times in a millisecond, “I will, I promise.”
You push out a heavy breath, forcing your eyes back on your book, you had three more potions to get through for his exam on Monday. Blinking at the page, brain drifting back to the Desiderium… No.
“What’s next?” His voice is soft, as if he’s gracefully pulling you out of your mind, as if he could read it. You swallow.
“Sleeping draft,” your voice is so low it’s basically a whisper, turning the page, trying to ignore how the energy in the room feels different. Charged. Maybe two curious brains instead of one. You don’t look up, “Ingredients?”
He leans onto the table, two elbows pressed to the wood, his chin buried between them. He tilts his head to the side, giving you a view of his pretty cheekbones, the side of his face that didn’t have the birthmark. You glue your eyes to the book. Yeosang is barely even your friend, just a guy you tutor– But you wonder if his thoughts mirrored yours at all, even if you shouldn’t think of him that way at all.
“Water,” he’s mumbling, his tone half bored, “Um, Lavender.”
“This one’s a breeze,” you try to push some encouragement into your tone, “One more ingredient, and then tell me how it’s brewed.”
A small breath passes through his lips, “Uh,” he closes his eyes for a moment, “Mint.”
His lips are so shiny– wet, like he’d just swiped his tongue over them. The loose pieces of hair hanging out of his ponytail lay over his creamy skin, the rich color a contrast to the pink on his cheeks still present.
“No, chamomile.”
Shit. You didn’t even hear him get it wrong.
“Hey,” he picks his head up, eyeing you from the table, “I thought you said cursing is foul.”
You said that out loud? “It is,” your chuckle is nervous, “I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry,” he smiles, the S in sorry slurred by his slight lisp. The sound brings an unfamiliar warmth to your chest, a smile on your cheeks. In a rush, you turn your head back to the book.
“Okay,” you heave a breath in an attempt to push the weird air away from the two of you, “Water, lavender, chamomile. Tell me how it’s brewed.”
Yeosang groans, sitting up straight, “I can’t focus.”
“Fill your cup,” you jut your chin in the direction of the mind-sharpening potion in the corner of the room, “Actually, can you pour me one, too?”
He nods, untangling himself from the bench to walk over to the bar-cart, and you suck in a deep breath that isn’t full of Yeosang’s air. You don’t know what’s going on in your chest, or why the mention of Desiderium has you both feeling weird, or maybe it was just you that was weird. It was always just you, the untouched one who has no experience that feels weird when anything sex-related is brought up. Yeosang is probably fine.
Your eyes pick up to his fingers wrapped around the handle of the jar, watching how the veins that climb up his forearm like vines strain while he fills two goblets. You’ve always known Yeosang is attractive, anyone with eyes could see it. He’s popular amongst the girls in your year, your house, other houses, even. He’s kind, genuine, soft, but you’ve never really thought about him that way, never had anything to add to the conversation, because you know him as the timid dumbass you tutor in every single subject.
“Do you want any mint?” He asks from the cart, and you nod your head, mumbling your thanks.
Always kind, with his deep voice and the muted rose colored kiss mark on his temple, funny in the way that has you shaking your head because his humor was so silly it was almost childish. He always opens the door for you to the study room, pulls out the heavy bench if the last group to occupy the room pushed it in too far. Chivalrous. Sweet. Gorgeous.
You’re taking it from his hand by the time he walks back to the bench and gulping down the cup in four massive swallows. You need to focus on tutoring him, not how pretty he looks when he’s smiling or how words fall off his lips like each one is a spell.
When his empty goblet hits the oak you plant your hands on the wooden table before you, mind already feeling sharper. “Okay, seriously now, this one’s easy.” You shoot him another sideways glance. “Tell me how it’s brewed.”
“Bring the water to a slow boil,” you’re both nodding with his words, “Add lavender and stir twenty times.”
“Twenty-one,” you correct, and his smile blooms again. You shudder.
“Add chamomile and let it simmer for twenty minutes.”
“Ah, that’s where twenty came from.”
“Add purslane for nightmares,” he hums, a low, ruddy sound, “Add ginger for some kick.”
“I’m proud of you,” you say matter-of-factly, “You even answered questions I didn’t ask yet.”
“I told you I studied!” He’s smiling wide and bright, “I know how you work now, how you ask questions. I know the question before it’s on your tongue.”
You think both of your eyes widen at the same time. An innocent statement, nothing behind it, but the word tongue… Right now… Why is there a heat blooming in the pit of your stomach?
He must feel it too, with the way his eyes dart for his lap, fingers twisting together above his slacks. You swallow again, robes feeling heavy on your skin, the air of the room feeling hotter.
“The next is, um,” you’re blinking rapidly as you flip the page, “Uh, deflating draft. Antidote for the… Swelling solution, it reduces… Um, swelling… And size.”
You can feel the sheen of sweat on your forehead growing rapidly. You’re twisting your neck in discomfort, your clothes too fucking hot, you shimmy off your robe, letting it fall over back of the bench.
There’s an intake of breath on your left, and your head turns to Yeosang who’s already staring at you, his pupils blown. Eyes wider. Nostrils flared in a way that told you he was on alert.
“Ingredients?” You squeak, swallowing down the spit that keeps forming in your mouth. What the fuck is going on right now?
“Water, wood sorrel,” his voice is monotonous, as if he was reading a script, mind somewhere else, but his eyes are still locked on you. His voice deepens, a low hum, “Sagebrush, aloe, powdered galangal.”
Your thighs tighten. Has he always sounded that way? Sultry? Sexy?
You clear your throat as his fingers stop twisting together on his lap, he crosses his leg over his knee and throws his robe over his slacks. Your jaw locks, the movement shoving his smell into your space, and the scent becomes a feeling. A low rumbling in your gut, a blooming heat turned to sparks ignited.
“How- Um, How do you brew it? The potion?” You’re obvious. You’re internally smacking the shit out of yourself because it’s so fucking obvious you’re horny, it might as well be written on your forehead.
Yeosang looses a shaky breath, you can hear how it staggers, you can feel how it reaches your hair, moving it across your blouse. Still in that sultry, alluring tone, he says, “Boil the water, and– fuck, add the woodsorrel and sagebrush.”
You don’t scold him for the curse. He continues, “Don’t stir, make sure they’re submer- ah, under water, under the water completely. Submerged, yeah.”
Your ears are red-hot, body tingling, you can feel the stickiness growing between your legs like it did when you’re ovulating. And his voice, his voice, your shoulders slouch listening to him, getting lost in how clear he sounds in the depth of his words. Breathily, you say, “Keep going.”
He groans. Groans. Your eyes squeeze shut, head dipped down, hair creating a veil so he can’t see you. It feels unbearable– the fire burning so brightly in your gut, your body felt like a livewire, if he so much as brushed his skin against you, you weren’t sure if you’d be able to hold back.
“Lower the temp to a simmer, add the aloe,” your eyes slide to where his fists curl around his robe, knuckles white. In a low grumble, he says, “Fuck Wooyoung.”
Your head perks up, eyes widening as you face him, and as soon as he sees your face his eyes close immediately, lips curling together. “Shit, I can’t even look at you right now.”
“Why?” You ask, barely noticing how heavy your breath has gotten. You were nearly panting now, lips wet and swollen, “Why fuck Wooyoung? What did he do?”
He looked flushed, his cheeks bright pink, his ears tipped red, his birthmark was so dark. You wanted to kiss it, lick it, his eyelashes so beautiful, you wanted to see them closer–
“He used it,” he cracks an eye open, “The Desiderium.”
You blink, eyes sliding to the pair of empty goblets on the table, then back to him. “Like, on us?”
Both of his eyes are open now, but they dance around the room, never landing on you. “Yes, on us, we drank it. I don’t– I don’t know how much, but it was in the potion jar on the cart, we- we drank it.”
“Oh, shit,” you gasp, but somehow the air filling your lungs feels good, “Oh shit.”
Panic doesn’t seem to find you. You’d left yourself entirely, entering a bubble of lust and arousal, feeling the burn inside your body with nothing to fucking smother it. Your eyes drop to his robe, the breadth of his shoulders, the veins dancing on his wrists while his fists still curl around the fabric.
“What do we do?” He asks you, eyebrows shot up, “What’s the anecdote?!”
“Don’t know,” you mumble dreamily as your eyes catch onto his jaw, his tongue that pokes between his lips as he speaks. He’s so pretty, so big and so muscular but so beautiful, you wonder if he tastes as sweet as he looks.
“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath and it sounds like a compliment.
You smile, head tilting, hand reaching forward to play with one of the hairs that frame his face. His eyes widen when you take it between your fingers, twirling it, knuckles brushing against his face. The millisecond of contact, of skin on skin, you can feel it like you’d just stuck your hand between your legs.
He moans.
He moans, and your entire world is flipped upside down.
Your eyes lock together, a question neither of you want to ask, have to ask.
Pride was a thing of the past by the time you climbed into Yeosang’s lap, legs splintered by his hips, mouths messily tangling together as if you were trying to swallow each other whole. You could feel him pressed up against you— hard chest, hard abdomen, hard cock— every inch of you was touched by him, consumed by him, burning, steaming, you were sure when you lifted your heads the windows would be fogged over.
Panting into each other’s mouths like dogs, his tongue dragged across yours hastily, harshly, his lips bruising yours with blatant force. Your hands held onto his nape, fingertips tangled in the slick of his ponytail, pulling stray hairs out every time your fingers twitched.
“Shit—” he breathed, somewhere between a moan and a gasp, a nasty, brutal sound. You moaned at the sound of his voice, shameless and completely involuntary, head dropping at how it rumbled from his chest.
“We,” he tilted his head back as your lips moved to his jaw, leaving open-mouthed kisses down his throat, tongue lapping at every inch of skin as if you’d taste his very soul. His hands land on your hips, heavy and rough, “I can’t—”
“I need it,” you sound breathless, murmuring into his skin, “I need you to do something, need you to touch me, Yeosang.”
He moans again at how his name falls off your lips, high-pitched, eyes screwed tight with his hips bucking up at how gone you sound. Your hips grind into him, panties pressed against his slacks, skirt blanketing over where your hips met.
“We’re not in our,” his groan is breathy, strained, as if he was fighting it off, “Right minds. We shouldn’t be doing this here.”
“I don’t care,” your hands slide to his cheeks, feeling the heat beneath them, hips still working their dirty, slow grind, meeting his eye. “You want it, don’t you? You do, right?”
He’s nodding before you finish the question, “I want it, I want you, in this skirt, your face, fuck—”
Your lips curl, parting, leaning forward to attack his again, tongue slipping into his mouth like its made a home there. This heat, this urgency, you didn’t care how you looked, how you sounded, if you were doing this right, it was incredible. Empowering. It was a fleeting thought, how you’ve never done this before, how you’ve gone so long without doing this.
His hands find your top while your lips stay locked, fingers nimble, making haste as they undo the tiny buttons lining your chest and abdomen. He pushes the cotton off your shoulders, throwing it to the floor, face lighting up when he sees the baby pink bra adorning your chest.
“Are you sure?” He mumbles as he pulls back, eyes zeroed in on your chest, as if he couldn’t force himself to meet your eye if he tried. You wonder how he still has so much self control, yours was gone the moment the goblet touched your lips. “I need, need you to say yes, I—”
“Please, yes, do something.”
A hand slides under your ass, lifting you at the same time as the backs of his knees push the bench out from behind him. One hand clears the table while the other keeps you close, and then your ass is pressed to the bare wood, his palms pressing your shoulders back until you feel the steam of the wet slab of wood meet your burning skin.
“Yeosang!” You squeal, the cold a shock, but a comfort. He grunts in response, pulling his wand from his pants, quickly charming the door locked, the room soundproof, two spells you’d taught him to master two weeks ago.
“I’m sorry,” he growls and it doesn’t sound like an apology at all, especially not when he peels his robe from his shoulders, pulling his sweater vest over his head, more stray hairs framing his face. His voice is dazed now, low, here but far as he starts to unbutton his own shirt, “I can’t risk someone hearing or coming in, I need you, I need to do whatever, everything, I need all of you.”
Your body tightens at his words, at how desperate he sounds, the only thing you want right now is for him to take all of you. You want him shameless, you want him impolite, you want him so far from kind he isn’t Yeosang at all anymore.
You spread your knees, bare thighs pressed to the wood, skirt hiked up to your hips. He gasps when he bends while pulling his pants down, eye to eye with your heat atop the table, a low groan rips from his chest again.
“You’re soaked,” still dazed, eyes locked again, he spoke to himself more than to you. “I want— can I taste you?”
“Stop asking,” you mutter, anticipation carbonating your very blood, “Do everything like you promised.”
He’s on his knees then, fingers hooked into the elastic of your baby pink panties, tugging them down your legs. He pulls your hips to the end of the table and the back of your head meets the wood, sighing in relief when the thick air meets your core, gasping again when you feel cool breath pushed into your glistening folds.
He wastes no time licking a stripe up your center, moaning so loud when his tongue slides between your folds, and the noise, the pleasure makes your back arch. It's barely a thought in your mind that no one’s seen you there, that no one’s had their mouth there— you didn’t care, you needed it. You needed more.
Your hands fly to his hair, fingertips sliding into his tightly bound ponytail, nails clawing at his scalp, sounds of pleasure ripping from your chest one after another. It felt so good, so wet, you’ve never experienced anything like it, this burn in your core, how every nerve ending in your body seemed to ignite.
When the tip of one of his fingers prod at your entrance your body locks, thighs squeezing against his head, it felt foreign and weird but good and confusing. He hums against your clit, lips wrapped around it, lightly sucking as he slips inside slowly, groaning into you when he gets past his first knuckle.
He pulls back, “You’re tight.”
You can’t see him, but you moan in response, words escaping you before you can think about them, “Stretch me out then.”
With more force he curls his finger inside and your back lifts from the wood, an elbow sliding behind you, holding yourself up as a wrecked, ragged, guttural moan escapes you. “Keep doing that,” you breathe, “Oh my god, Yeosang, do that again.”
His eyes flick up to yours and they’re so dark, his pupils so wide, with his hair so messy and his features so deep he almost seemed menacing. He shakes his head, fingers pulling from your core, mouth detaching from your folds, you feel empty.
He doesn’t sound like himself anymore, raw, restless, “Can’t, can’t take it anymore.”
Your back meets the wood again as he tugs his deep red briefs down to his thighs, rock hard and leaking cock slapping up between veiny hips, his chin tucked to his chest. He grips himself, knuckles white around the base of his cock as he stares at your core, still glistening, pulsing for him.
“Inside,” you nearly cry, knees bending upward, spreading yourself wide. His eyes meet yours and there’s no uncertainty, no pause, no patience.
He lines himself up, mushroom tip poking at your entrance that’s never felt more than his finger, your breath hitched in your throat. Your face tightens as he slips himself inside, a cry leaving your lips once the fat tip pushes past your folds, a relieving yet strangled sigh when he sheathes himself fully.
“You have to— I’m not gonna,” his eyes are screwed shut, mouth hanging open, lips glossy and wet, hands planted on either side of the table. He’s moaning now, higher in pitch and you’re trying to calm your breathing, locked in on how he feels like he’s splintering your stomach.
Overwhelming but everything, he’s huge, everything about him. Your eyes flutter, open and closed, watching how his curved shoulders flex, how the veins on his arms swim up to his biceps, the chiseled abs on his torso, stuck in a time-warp of constant enduring how he splits you open.
“I gotta move,” he’s panting all over again, “Open up for me, baby.”
Your breath hitches at the pet name, pulsing around him, clenching around his length. A muddled groan leaves his lips as everything freezes, his fingers on the table, his abdomen, his eyes, you feel warm. Full. He curses through an ear-piercing moan, pulling out halfway, chest heaving, and then he mutters, “Shit, I just came.”
You lean up on your elbows, eyeing him through wet lashes, “What?”
But then he’s grabbing you, a strong, sticky forearm wrapping around your torso, pulling you into him, his mouth sloppy against yours once more. He whines into your lips as he starts thrusting inside you again and you’re speechless, frozen, drool spilling down your unmoving lips as his cock curves upward, hitting that same spot from before.
“Gods, baby, you gotta open up or I’m gonna cum again,” he says through a ragged breath, hips quickening their pace, the slick inside you letting him move so easily.
“I can’t,” you whimper, chin tipping back, hands braced on the table behind you. “It feels so good, Yeo,” you snap your head back down, “I didn’t- I didn’t know it felt so good.”
His eyes flicker to yours, a question on his tongue he didn’t need to ask, he didn’t want to stop. Selfishly he fucks into you faster, harder, hands planted on your hips as he drinks up every moan and cry that leaves your lips.
His head hangs low, sweat dripping past his collarbones, down his abdomen, your legs hook around his waist, knee socks and penny loafers slamming into his too-hot skin.
“I need,” you shake your head, throat dry, the pleasure was too much. Too overwhelming. “Sit down, sit, sit sit sit.”
In one quick motion he’s scooping you up, sitting back on the bench, your knees landing on either side of him with your hands planted on his shoulders.
You bounce as soon as you gain leverage, ignoring the immediate burn in your thighs as your forehead falls to his shoulder, lips pressed to his skin with sounds of pleasure stringing together in a continuous song. He’s somehow deeper, the pleasure more intense, a pit of blazing heat that grows stronger, you can’t keep yourself upright.
His grip on your hips is steady, grounding in the swirl of sweat and spit and lust, bouncing you effortlessly, keeping you moving in rhythm. His voice is low and strained again, “Want you to cum around my cock, baby.”
You cry, hips twitching against him, the pit in your stomach growing hotter, stronger. His lips press against your burning skin and you moan, his tongue is heavy and sopping wet as he licks up the sweat along your jaw, whispering, “Rub your clit for me, baby, please.”
Your nails claw into his shoulders harder, stomach clenching, a cry leaving your lips after the words leave his mouth, your orgasm was right there, right on the brink. You clench around him, hips stuttering when a low groan leaves Yeosang’s lips, so low and rumbled it makes the rubber band snap.
Your moans slur together you cum around his length, his firm hands on your hips fucking you through it as if you were weightless, nothing but a fucktoy for him to use. His huff of a laugh is in amusement and disbelief, “You came? Just like that?”
Winded, cheeks hot and body stinging, you nod, head tipping back, needing the air of the room on your skin.
“Fuck,” he hisses, “I need to cum again, need to fill this pussy one more time.”
His arm wraps around your waist one more time and you’ve submitted to the fact that you could be just a toy for him to use forever. You’re on the floor in a flash, knees pressed to hardwood, your palms braced before you, on all fours.
He slips back in and you fold, chest pressed to the hardwood, cheek hot against the floor, elbows bent with your palms still braced on either side of you. He fucks into you ruthlessly, the sound of skin slapping skin filling the room, his hands heavy and hot against you.
You’re jelly, body moving with his, muscles barely holding you up anymore. You’re sure drool is puddled beside your mouth, sounds leaving you that you couldn’t hear, a mess of overwhelming, blinding pleasure.
“Want you to cum again,” he says from behind you and all you can do is cry. Tears fill your waterline and spill down your cheeks, into your mouth, mixing with the drool on the floor.
He’s so fucking deep you swear he’s in your throat, his rhythm sloppy but merciless, cockhead kissing your cervix. He slips a hand around your front, two fingers pressed against your clit, rubbing quick circles as he leans down, panting against your back.
“T-Too much,” you cry, nails clawing into the hardwood, shoulders shaking with each sob.
“You can,” he’s straining like he’s on the brink of his own orgasm, “Come on, baby. Cum with me, c’mon.”
You focus on his hand between your legs, his cock drilling into you, the pit in your stomach filling with pressure again. You choke, on your breath or your tears or your spit you weren’t sure, breath getting caught in your lungs as he pushes you closer, your orgasm so close to could taste it.
“I’m gonna cum,” you choke out, voice utterly raw, words slurred and muffled.
“Yes,” he moans, “Mm, fuck, yes, so good for me, cum around my cock.”
Your body locks, joints tightening at his words, orgasm rushing over you like a tidal wave. His grip on your hip is blinding, he’s focusing on fucking you through it, keeping his rhythm precise, his angle perfect, “Yes, that’s it, baby. So tight— fuck, you’re so— fuck.”
He’s spilling into you again, filling you with that sticky warmth, that fullness you felt before. You moan together, shameless and debauched as his thrusts slow down, then he’s pausing, fully sheathed, the only sounds in the room being your heaving breaths.
“Oh my gods,” he takes a deep, shuddering breath, heavy hands running over your shaking, hot skin. Down your back, landing on your hips, he pulls you backward as he sits on his heels.
You land over his chest, cock still buried inside you, head flopping back over his shoulder. He moves your hair from your face, thumb swiping below your lips, cleaning off the drool.
“Are you okay?” He asks, panic in his tone.
You nod, still pulling breath into your lungs, eyes softly closed. “I didn’t know, I didn’t know,” you repeat with a shake of your head, “That sex felt so good, Yeosang.”
You crack an eye and he’s beet red, half his hair pulled out of his ponytail, framing his face like a mural. He’s so fucking beautiful.
“I didn’t know that you haven’t had sex before,” his voice is quiet, tone raw, you both needed water. “I’m going to kill Wooyoung.”
“No,” you shake your head, dry swallowing, “No, thank him.”
“Thank him?” Yeosang repeats, eyebrows raised.
Your smile is lazy, tired, a slow chuckle tumbling off your tongue, “I don’t think the Desiderium wore off yet.”
His cock twitches inside you, still rock fucking hard, he blushes even deeper, “You wanna go again?”
“It’s a form of studying,” you shrug, breaths finally slowing, “You can tell Wooyoung exactly how it works.”
This hit like a line of coke in the 80s FUCKKKK I meant to praise you for this back when I read it but I’ll do it now. TACE IM GONNA KISS YOUR BIG BRAINNNNN i fucking love sex pollen and all related tropes and this shit scratched that itch so GOOD fuck you’re so good!!!!! I LOVE U AND UR WRITING!!!
this eneded up way longer than intended, nevertheless. IM WET!!!
idol!kim hongjoong x f!reader
thinking about hongjoong...
hongjoong likes ruining people. melting their brains on stage with suggestive dances and flirtatious moves of his tongue. making them worship him at his feet while he’s giving his all on stage. dripping in sweat, swimming in charisma.
standing tall above the masses, a domineering, looming presence. radiating an untouchable lust, demanding attention.
he likes to throw after parties, loud music and every drink on the market. powdered noses and the most beautiful women he’s ever laid eyes on.
loud music and sweaty bodies around his penthouse, it was a riot of people so high they weren’t on earth, it smelled of desperation, heat, and carnage. so many colors it burns your eyes, so many sensations, breathing sends you into overload.
girls that cling to him, breath reeking of tequila and need, but he’ll never fuck them. he teases them with sly smiles and burning caresses to their goose-bumped skin, but it’ll never go any further.
most of the time.
his absolute favorite? when sweet, pretty little things like you wander in like a lost bunny. dressed out of place, an unfamiliar look of curiosity and fear on your soft face when you stepped into his home.
the concert had piqued your interest, and so you followed the masses after the event to see where they were going. surrounded by blaring lights and a foyer so full of people you couldn’t turn your head without bumping noses with somebody.
it was lively, hot, and not your scene. and hongjoong noticed it immediately. like you had lit a flare gun into the sky, while his eyes swam over the bustling crowd, his gaze snagged on you.
huddled in on yourself, desperately searching for familiar faces, at war with yourself inside your little head on whether you should leave for your own safety.
you aren't safe here, and hongjoong won’t let you leave.
he’ll weave through the crowd, hands on passerby's waists, as he pushes through the people, heading towards you. so scared, so curious.
he finds you effortlessly, and you feel him before you see him, a hand slipping around to grip your hip, spinning your body around to face him. you gasp quietly, hongjoong pulling you close by your hip, his other hand resting on your waist.
you drag your eyes up to meet his, and you nearly drown. that same intense gaze that you saw onstage, those dark eyes that made your stomach flip and your heart pound. and here he was, mere inches away from you, and the party seemed to melt away into background noise.
he leans down, his warm breath ghosting over your ear. his low, rich voice is invading the small cracks of your brain and burying itself there, making a home.
"wrong turn?" he questions playfully, and your spine pulls taut, feeling the vibrations of his words tickling the skin of your neck. his hand on your waist slides up and down, softly caressing you through your dress. so cute and soft in comparison to slutty, eye candy that everyone else donned around you.
you shake your head, swallowing a whimper when the fingers on your hip press deeper against your flesh, a gentle roll of the pads like he was keeping a rhythm in his head.
he hums lowly, the sunglasses low on the bridge of his nose like a mask that was poorly hiding his true intentions. his intentions to show you how much of a mistake you had made by walking into his home.
you're whisked away by him, with his sugary whispers and gentle hands, and before you knew it, you were sitting on his lap on the wrap-around couch by the crowded bar area of his home. women lay drunkenly on the sweat-covered cushions, whiskey dripping down their chins, their pupils blown dark and wide.
the lights flashed, and the music blared so loud your racing heart was drowned in your own ears. hongjoong's hands wandered all around your body, having you straddle him, all the while his mouth made good work of yours, kissing you like he was consuming your every breath.
running his tongue over your teeth, grinning every time he felt your thighs clench around his lap. you didn't know what to do with your hands, so he guided them himself.
guiding your shaking hands to his hair, you bury your fingers and tug hard. his hand hooks at your hip and pushes against your lower body, an urgency you dare not deny.
"grind." he commands against your mouth, his words falling flat on your tongue.
he'll reach into his coat pocket, pulling out a minuscule white pill. women watch in awe and jealousy as he slips it into his mouth. he'll bite it in half with his teeth, a muted crunch amidst the chaos.
then his lips are melting with yours once again, his tongue meticulously sliding half of the pill into your mouth and onto your tongue. his hand is reaching between your melded bodies, his fingers quick to find your damp panties beneath your skirt, gently circling your clothed clit, to distract you from what he's about to have you take.
"swallow, baby." he murmurs, and you do. you swallow your respective pills, and he grins wildly when you do as you're told. he slides your panties to the side, his fingers immediately dripping in your slick, teasing you gently as you moan against his parted lips.
shameless, in front of hundreds of people. some people stare in amazement, as they have never seen hongjoong get so hands-on with someone like this. most people are too high to care, and hongjoong is zeroed in on you, and only you. the way your brows knit in pleasure when his fingers press up against your clit. your pretty manicured nails scratching his scalp when he flips his tongue in your mouth so intimately.
your blood begins to buzz, and he can feel you melt further into him the more your brain slips away. one hand messes with his belt, undoing it nice and slow while his fingers curl so deeply into your pussy your body shakes against his.
come hither motions that graze a spot you could never perfectly reach yourself. the metal rings on his fingers were cold against the warmth of your body.
he smiles all the while he kisses you into a drunken fever, your eyes heavy and hazy while he plays with your body. he's slipped his cock out of his pants, and he's gently lifting your hips, so your cunt is perfectly sat against the length of him.
throbbing and warm between your lips, you gasp, his hand slips around the front of your throat, gripping just tight enough to control you, forcing your watery eyes on him. his hand pushes and pulls on your hips, grinding you along his cock, slicking himself up with your arousal.
groans and purrs against your soft mouth, he pays no mind to the passersby who watch in astonishment, nor the women who plead to be next. just you, the sweet little bunny who wandered in, begging to be eaten.
you're lost in it, the drugs, his gaze, the pleasure. he's lifting your hips up again, and his hand on your throat tenses as he sinks his teeth into your bottom lip, languidly sheathing you down onto his cock.
thick and hot, he fills you up slow enough you could feel every inch of him brush your walls, and you moan loud into his mouth as he sinks you further down until your ass is flush against his thighs.
he knows someone like you wouldn't normally do this; he knows you're usually a good girl. but you're weak, just like everybody else. you're just as susceptible to temptation as anyone else, but you just needed a little encouragement. half a pill and the hottest man alive to push you over that edge.
his hand on your throat forces your gaze to stay locked on his, your blood is buzzing, your heartbeat has slowed, and you find your body rocking on its own. grinding your hips into him, his cock brushing that spot deep in your guts with every drag of your hips.
he'll thrust up, deep and sharp a few times, moaning against your mouth when you clench like a vice. he'll tease you with filthy praises, his voice tinged with a dark drawl that makes your heart leap.
"such a good little girl." biting the tip of your tongue, spitting into your mouth.
"rock your hips, pretty baby, let your body do the talking." pressing the pads of his fingers against the sides of your throat, he helps to kill your words when you try to speak.
"fuck me like it's just us, doll. feel me so deep inside this pussy." he can't help himself, assisting you by grinding his cock up into your body, molding his shape into you.
women will drag their hands along his manspread legs, his back, his shoulder, desperate for his attention, vying for his eyes on them. but he ignores them, he doesn't hear them, doesn't see them, doesn't feel them.
he's focused on you, your moans in his mouth, the clouds in your eyes, the warmth of your cunt, and the grip of your hands. hongjoong is addicted.
you can't feel embarassed, not like you were just a few moments ago. you're falling apart around his cock, whining shamelessly as fucks slowly up into you, forcing your body to stay still and take him like he wants.
you're a wet, drooling, intoxicated mess, and the only thing on your mind is cumming your brains out.
hongjoong's hand presses against your lower back, forcing you to arch further, angling your body just right, so he's stroking into you deeper. hitting that spot so perfectly you can't control your body when you shatter around him, your limbs shaking and your eyelids fluttering, dropping your forehead to his shoulder while you cum.
and he keeps grinding, keeps rocking your hips for you, keeps you moving and feeling, he wants this night to last forever.
"keep cumming, babydoll, don't stop." his lips pressed against your ear, talking you through your orgasm as it rocks through your body, squeezing your throat so tight you feel your brain melt into a puddle at the bottom of your skull.
the rest of the party had faded away, floating in your high, an overstimulated mess, and hongjoong is determined to make you cum so many times you break on him. go limp and mindless with his cock buried in your cunt, fucking you until dawn.
"pretty little thing," he murmurs against your hot skin, his fingers finding your clit, his other hand spreading your legs further so he can fuck himself into your body even deeper.
"aww, should've gone home like a good girl, hm?" kissing the side of your neck as he begins to set a meaner rhythm, and people have started to gather and watch. to watch hongjoong work you out, to watch him destroy this lost little girl.
"now, you're not going anywhere," you moan in hazy protest, and he only giggles, dragging your head up to kiss you again.
"mm mm... no, you're not, baby. not until i'm done, fucking you up."
Been a while since I’ve had time to read anything but fuck Rayne you always always ALWAYS deliver with all your works like….youre insane actually. I loved this toxic Hongjoong as much as I hated him. The wolf sinking its teeth into the sheep is always such a sexy and delicious trope and you showcased it so perfectly in this work. The way he locks in on her before her common sense can kick in, the pleasure making way for her to swallow the pill without really thinking it through, UGH fucking delicious!!!!
Truly adore reading anything you write, 10/10 as always, I need Kim Hongjoong so bad I’m going to SCREAM!!!
