⋆.˚˖࿔ pairing | ot6 x 7thmember!reader ༉‧₊˚.
synopsis | when your members find out you don't think its possible for you to come during sex (thanks to your lackluster ex), they set out on a mission to prove to you that not only is it possible, but there's many different ways to do so.
details | nsfw (MINORS DNI), pure smut, piwon as varying degrees of dominant (from softdom!jongseob to meandom!theo), reader is quite inexperienced, dry humping, oral (f. rec), thigh fucking, fingering, voyeurism, exhibitionism, squirting, mutual masturbation, voice kink, edging, overstimulation, punishment (not for reader), light dom/sub dynamics, power dynamics, f/m/m, f/m/m/m, time constraints, light humiliation, rough sex, creampie, throat-fucking, choking, orgasm denial, fluff (more probably)
⟡ length | 21k ⟡
𓆩⟡𓆪 note || well this was quite overwhelming to write and it is quite the ride ¬‿¬ the "plot" of this is barely a plot but the smut is smutting || also, can’t believe it’s been one month of this blog already!! thank you sm for 450 followers you all are so appreciated <3 now enjoy the pure filth as a gift (apologies in advance for any typos that might have still made it through, i physically cannot proofread this any more)
“Wait, he’s never made you cum before?”
Your chopsticks freeze halfway up to your mouth that’s hung open awkwardly as you process the words that have just come out of Intak’s mouth. You look up from your bowl of noodles to see six pairs of eyes staring at you in varying levels of shock.
There’s a pause, and when no one moves to take this conversation in any other direction, you put down your chopsticks and close your mouth, clearing your throat as an embarrassed heat flushes high on your cheeks.
“Well, no,” you admit awkwardly. “I mean— yes. I have. By myself, I mean, just not by my ex or anyone else.”
You’re not sure how the conversation had diverged to you. One minute you were all talking over one of those reality dating shows Keeho had put on for everyone to watch over dinner (a strange choice, but whatever), then somehow the topic had shifted to first times and whether they were successful at bringing their partners to completion (this discussion was mainly between Theo, Keeho, and Intak), then someone was mentioning your name and asking you something you don’t remember, and you’d just made a throwaway comment about how, “He never did it for me anyway so this discussion is pointless to me,” to get them off your back (you were more focused on scarfing down your noodles), and now here you are.
“Wait,” Intak speaks again, blinking like his brain just couldn’t compute this piece of information. “So the guy that you were in a relationship with for two years,” he starts, then pauses to look at you, as if trying to make sure you were understanding the gravity of the situation, then continues, “has never made you come? Not once?”
You shake your head, pulling your lower lip between your teeth. It’s a little embarrassing, sure, but isn’t it normal for most women to not finish during sex?
“Not ever?” Keeho asks this time, his brows pulled up behind his fringe. “What about anyone you’ve ever been with. Ever.”
You drop your chopsticks into your bowl with a clatter. “No,” you say firmly. “Why is that so surprising?”
“Because it’s ridiculous,” Theo states easily, leaning back on the couch with his arms crossed.
You shrug. “I don’t see what the big deal is. Isn’t it normal to just fake it and move on?”
Intak makes a noise like he’s been severely offended. “No!” He cries. “I always make sure she comes. Always.”
You scoff in disbelief, shaking your head. The quiet ones, Jiung, Soul, and Jongseob, are still watching you like hawks, and you can tell from their eyes that they’re in accordance with the other three.
“There’s no way,” you say. You’ve been through the motions of sex before. It’s wildly uncomfortable, too slippery, and too rushed. “You’re telling me you can all make your girls’ finish?”
There’s a chorus of agreements from all of them, some more enthusiastic than others.
You blink, taken aback at the unity. “…Every time?”
Another round of assent and you’re left with the thought that maybe something’s just wrong with you.
“Maybe I just don’t like sex then,” you conclude, your brows pinching as you think back to the handful of times you’ve given yourself up to your ex partner and only come out of it regretful.
“That could be true.”
All eyes turn to Jiung, who’s sitting on the single chair leaned back casually, looking straight at you with a clinical eye that leaves you feeling a little too exposed. You squirm in your seat on the carpeted floor, grateful for the refuge in the slight coverage the coffee table provides you.
“But,” Jiung continues. “We’ve met the guy you were with. He didn’t exactly ooze generosity.”
“That’s true.” Jongseob’s voice pulls your eyes to where he’s sitting right across the table from you, hands braced on the floor behind him as he leans back. His eyes are calculating in their own way as they weigh on you. “If your experience was with him then I wouldn’t be too surprised.”
You fidget with your hands in your lap as your eyes flit over your members. “Well,” you start, then stop, mulling over your words for a moment. “Maybe there’s something wrong with me then.”
“There’s nothing wrong with you.” You almost flinch at Soul’s voice, sharper than you’re used to from him. He’s on the floor to your right, peering at you with wide, wondering eyes. “You said you’ve just never orgasmed with him, right? You can finish when it’s just yourself?”
You fluster at his blunt words but nod. “Yeah.”
“So it’s not like you can’t come or anything like that,” Keeho chimes in from the couch behind Jongseob. “Your ex just didn’t know how to treat you right.”
You pout, feeling a little affronted. “Hey, he wasn’t a bad person.”
“Bad in bed though,” Theo adds with a snicker.
You roll your eyes at him, picking up your chopsticks to have something to do with your hands. “I just can’t imagine coming from sex. It’s so… uncomfortable. Invasive.”
“Oh honey,” Keeho says, tone sympathetic. “He really didn’t know how to treat you right then. It doesn’t have to be invasive either. There’s so many more ways to come than just penetration.”
You stare at him, your brows climbing up your forehead. “There… is?” You knew of a couple methods but the way he says it makes you feel like you were missing out on a lot more than you thought.
Intak makes a noise like he’s just been punched by the words. “You don’t know?” He asks, like he’s truly horrified by your lack of knowledge. Then he looks at Theo beside him and rattles him by the arm. “Hyung, she doesn’t know!”
Theo shoves him off with a hand on his forehead. “Relax.” Then he turns back to you and his next words throw your brain into the void. “We could show you.”
There’s a palpable silence as those words hang in the air, leaving behind something heavy lingering in its wake.
“Taeyang,” Jiung scolds, turning to Theo with sharp eyes. “You can’t just spring something like that on her.”
“No, wait,” you find yourself saying. As daunting as whatever Theo has in mind seems, you can’t help but be curious. “I’m interested. Hypothetically.”
You can see everyone exchange looks, a weave of silent conversations that you ignore in favour of just looking at Theo, who holds your gaze back with a knowing smirk on his lips. He doesn’t say more though; he waits for you to steer the conversation.
“What—“ You start then stop again, clearing your throat when everyone’s eyes fall back to you. “Hypothetically, what would something like that entail?”
Theo leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees, his smirk pulling wider. “Hypothetically,” he starts, a little teasing, and you falter under his stare. “We would each show you a different way to make you come. Prove to you all the ways that you can finish during sex and that you were missing out on with your ex.”
You blink at him as the words process. The thought of them showing you makes something crawl under your skin, something you’re not able to name. Your eyes flit over all them, all of them who are watching you carefully. “There’s six of you though.”
Theo raises a brow. “Yes?”
“You’re saying there’s six different ways?” You ask, trying to wrack your brain for all the other ways your ex has tried besides penetration and outer stimulation (which was more just poking around than anything). You’re not very adventurous on yourself either, so you come up empty. “Hypothetically,” you tack on as an afterthought.
“Well, hypothetically, we could keep that a secret until we get to show you.” Theo’s smirk is inching towards something more dangerous, something that makes your heart stutter. “Hypothetically,” he continues, tilting his head at you, “would you like us to show you?”
And suddenly, this doesn’t feel very hypothetical anymore. You can see it in the way they’re all just waiting for you to either take them up on this ‘hypothetical’ or put them out of their misery and brush off the conversation.
You think about it. Really think about it. You can’t deny the way all this talk has your body prickling with curiosity and heated anticipation at the thought of them showing you, whatever that might be.
You glance between them, your close friends of the past six years, the people you’ve practically grown up with, the ones you not only work with but call your own. Intak is leaned forward in morbid curiosity and hanging onto your every word, Jongseob is feigning nonchalance but you can see the faint blush on his cheeks, Keeho watches you with a heat that he doesn’t even bother to hide, Soul is more curious and earnest than anything, Jiung— though calm on the outside— looks like he’s ready to devour you with just his eyes, and Theo is an enigma you’re too scared to even try to decode. You can tell they’re all waiting for the word, whichever it may be. But you don’t feel scared by their anticipation despite the daunting way their gazes settle on you. You’re surprised to feel something pulling at your gut, something wanting and present.
But above all, you trust them with everything. You can trust them with something like this.
So with a shaky breath, you nod. “Yes.”
It’s like the scene in front of you pauses on a reel. No one breathes.
“Just hypothetically?” Theo asks you slowly.
“No,” you answer without hesitation. “Not just hypothetically.”
There’s a few sharp exhales like breaths that have been held in for too long, someone mutters a low curse from somewhere on your right, and the air shifts again into something heated with anticipation.
“Only if everyone is okay with it,” you add, because you don’t want to pull anyone into anything they don’t want just for your sake.
“Are you kidding me?” Intak scoffs, a boyish grin pulling on his face. “I may or may not have thought about this already before.”
Jiung reaches over Theo to smack Intak over his lack of decorum.
“It’s fine,” you say, a small, awkward smile pulling on your lips. You’re taken aback by Intak’s sudden confession, but it doesn’t deter you. It makes you even more curious to see just what he’s wanted with you. “I’m, uh, looking forward to what you guys have to show me. But I’m still not sure I believe that you guys can make me… you know.”
Jongseob smiles at you, leaning forward to lean his elbows on the coffee table. “Let us worry about that, okay?” His voice is lower, a little huskier, and it already has you a little flustered.
“Cute,” you hear Soul mumble under his breath from your right and you glance at him to see he’s staring at the flush on your cheeks.
You clear your throat, sitting up straight to regain some semblance of control over your body. “How do we do this?”
“We’ll make a list of what we’re going to do to you,” Keeho starts, making sure to let the words linger for a little just to see you squirm. “And then we’ll pick what we’re each best at so you can get the best of the best.” He glances around the room to gauge opinions. “Sounds good?”
Everyone agrees with more enthusiasm than you’re prepared for and you feel your heart start to thunder in your chest. Not from fear, but from excitement. If what they say is true, and they can get you to come without fail, you’re in for a night that could make up for all the mediocre sex in your life and open your eyes to things you might not even be aware of.
“That’s that then,” Jiung says as he pulls himself up to his feet and walks over to your direction. Your heart jolts as he leans down to pick up your bowl of abandoned noodles, and you feel a little ridiculous that you’re already so affected. Jiung’s eyes flicker over your face that’s a few inches from his, and the corner of his lips tick up for a split second. “Why don’t you wait for us in your room? We’ll figure everything else out.” His deep voice is hushed in a cadence that you can almost feel brush over your skin and leave goose flesh in its wake.
“Sure,” you say, cheeks heating when your voice cracks halfway.
You scamper up to your feet to evade his amused chuckle and rush towards the stairs leading up to your bedroom.
Theo’s hand comes out to catch your arm before you can move past them, pulling you back. He’s standing now, looking down at you with a serious pinch of his brows. “Hey.” His voice is quieter, only for you to hear. “You’re really okay with this? It might be a lot for you to handle.”
You feel whatever nerves thrumming under your skin ease away at his concern. “I’m sure,” you say with a smile, squeezing his hand over your arm. “I trust you. I trust all of you.”
That eases the tension out of his shoulders and his frown melts into a smile. “Good,” he says, then his eyes flash into something darker and his smile appears sharper than it was a second. “Now go get yourself ready.” He leans in and breathes the next words practically on your lips. “And I promise you, you’re not leaving that room until you’ve come six times. And if the others fail, I’ll step in and make it up for them.”
You swallow, feeling the words sink to the base of your gut and fill it with fire. If just a few words can already push you towards ruin so quickly, you’re not sure what’ll happen when they actually get their hands on you.
𓆩⟡𓆪
You’re not sure how long you’ve been waiting with your heart in your throat and your limbs feeling like livewire. You sit at the head of your bed, back pressed to the headboard and knees pulled up to your chest.
You’re starting to wonder with each passing second just what you’ve signed up for. The nervous excitement is still there, of course, at the prospect of possibly being properly pleasured by someone else’s hand other than yours for a change but you have no idea what to expect. Your experience with sex didn’t measure up even a fraction to what you’d built up in your head and you just can’t imagine how your boys are possibly going to mend that disappointment.
But they seemed eager to show you otherwise, all of them. And you trust they’ll do well on their word even despite your lingering doubts.
So you take grounding breaths as you wait, sat comfy in a pair of sweats and a simple tee, until the handle to your door twists.
The door opens a fraction and Intak’s wide eyes peer in. “Can I come in?”
Your shoulders ease when you see that it’s just him and you wave him in with your hand. “Just you?” You ask, hoping only you can hear the waver in your voice.
“Just me,” he confirms, shutting the door behind him and making his way over to stand by the foot of the bed. “We decided on it just being a one on one thing. We didn’t want to overwhelm you with too much.”
You don’t even realize that was something you were worried about until you feel your chest loosen at the knowledge. “Oh,” you say with a grateful smile. “That’s good, actually. Thanks.”
He smiles back, soft and sweet. “Of course. This is supposed to be all about you. We wanna make sure you’re feeling good and not stressed out.” He tilts his head at you, a habit of his that you’ve always been endeared by. “How are you feeling?”
You bite down on your lip as you try to figure out how to put your feelings into words. “Fidgety? Nervous but… excited? I don’t really know what to expect, so I don’t know what to feel,” you admit sheepishly, then sit up straight with a sudden realization. “Wait, should I have changed into something prettier or…?”
He chuckles and shakes his head. “No, don’t worry about any of that. Keeping our clothes on will be just fine for this first… session, if that’s what we’re calling it.”
Your stomach flips when you realize that things are about to start and that Intak is here to be the first one to go. “Ah,” you say in realization, then frown. “Wait, clothes on?”
His sweet smile makes way to a smug smirk as he knees onto your bed and climbs on, settling to sit on his feet in front of you. “Yes,” he says, and you’re starting to realize how real everything is becoming with him sitting right in front of you. “Unless you wanted to see me with them off,” he adds with a cocky little grin.
You scoff at his flirty antics, something you’re all too familiar with. And the familiarity of it eases you down, surely something he’d meant for as he places a comforting hand on your ankle, rubbing slow circles there with his thumb.
“I didn’t make the rules,” you point out, feeling your body slowly settle under the small, soothing touch. “I don’t think I have any power here to decide.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” he purrs, then wraps the span of his hand around your ankle. “You have all the power here. We’re just here as vessels for your pleasure.”
Your brows raise as you bite down on your lip to smother your laugh. “That sounds awfully serious coming from you, Takki.”
But there’s no joke in the way Intak stares at you. Without warning, he yanks you forward by your ankle, pulling you flat on your back as he climbs over you, ignoring your yelp of surprise. He settles between your legs without delay and braces his hands on the bed on either side of your chest. He hovers over you, peering down at you with an intensity to his eyes you’ve seen him with only when it comes to figuring out complicated choreography.
“It is serious,” he tells you, low and smooth, and before you can respond his lips are on yours.
The kiss is slow and steady, more careful than you’d expect from Intak. But you find yourself melting into it with a soft sigh, your arms wrapping around his neck and pulling him down.
He settles down on his elbows as he presses deeper into the kiss, his body lowering down against yours. And that’s when you can feel it, the solid outline of his growing erection pressing against your thigh.
The weight of it against you shoots heat right to your core and makes you falter into the kiss. Curious, you push your leg up to press against the bulge and it gets a grunt out of his lips against yours.
He lifts up from the kiss, his pupils blown wide as he looks down at you with furrowed brows. “I wasn’t lying when I said I’ve thought about this before. Been wanting to do this for a long time now,” he says, his voice rough with desire.
He shifts his hips to line his erection right over you then presses firmly down, making you gasp at the pressure against your already throbbing core.
“You have?” You ask breathily when his words process. You roll your hips up to search for more of the pressure and Intak indulges you, rolling his hips down in a delicious grind that has your body bowing up the bed.
His hands move down to grab you by the hips and push them down against the bed, much to your dismay when it detaches you from the heat of him.
“Oh yeah,” he breathes, looking just as ruined by the sight of you as you’re starting to feel by him.
He keeps one hand holding you down as the other slides under your shirt, warm as it slides up to your chest. His eyes flash when he finds you bare under the shirt and wastes no time to grasp the soft mound, making a stuttered breath fall from your lips as his finger pushes down on your sensitive nipple.
“And now I finally have my chance,” he mutters, dark eyes drinking up every twitch in your expression as his finger rolls over the stiffening peak, sending little sparks of pleasure from your chest down your spine. “I might not get to fuck you but I’ll take anything I can get.”
Before you can ask him just what it is he’s set out to do to you, he kisses you again. This time it’s fast, heated, impatient; everything you actually were expecting from him.
He wastes no time before he’s prodding into your mouth with his tongue. You accept him with a soft moan, a sound that has him pulling your nipple between his fingers and has another yelp rip from your throat that he drinks up with his persistent lips.
You didn’t realize just how quickly you could get turned on from just some kissing and a few careful touches. But you can feel the arousal pool in your gut and in your underwear.
To say you were surprised was an understatement, but that wasn’t on the forefront of your mind. All you were thinking was that you needed to feel more.
As if he was reading your mind, Intak grinds down his clothed cock, fully hardened now, right into your needy heat.
You whine at the pleasure that rolls steadily through you, the sound drowned out by Intak’s soft breaths as he devours you whole with his tongue.
This already feels so much better than any night with your ex and you’re feeling a little high from it all. Your hips buck up in frantic little rolls that Intak meets with hard grinds of his own, sending steady shocks of pleasure through your lower body.
His other hand slides up your shirt to join his other hand in kneading your breasts, the pressure spreading pleasure through your entire body as he continues to grind against you.
You can feel yourself getting heady already under Intak’s hands and you happily welcome it. You didn’t think it could be so easy to get you so strung up without even having to take off your clothes, but here you are.
You can feel the coil in your gut wind tighter with each press of Intak’s throbbing erection against your aching core, can feel the slick gathering in your folds. It has you whining into the frantic kiss and has your hands clawing into his biceps.
He pulls from the kiss with a wet smack, a string of saliva connecting his lips to yours as his mouth falls open to let heavy breaths pass through. He presses his forehead down to yours, his eyes fluttering as he tries to keep his focus intact while his hips keep rocking into yours.
“F-Feels good,” you whisper up to him, gasping at a particular harsh press.
“Yeah?” He pants, using his hands to shove your shirt up above your chest.
You hiss at the cool air that brushes over your sensitive nipples. Intak groans at the sight of you, his hips stuttering for a moment before they pick back up at a more frantic pace. He wastes no time to latch his mouth onto your nipple, his hand working the other one as he starts to swirl his tongue around the stiff bud.
You moan at the wet warmth of his tongue on the sensitive flesh, arching your chest further into his mouth. You didn’t think your chest was this sensitive, but it has your hips bucking eagerly up against his, every single sensation over your body climbing down and pinpointing down to your clit.
“Intak,” you gasp, whining sharply when he pops off your nipple and switches to the other one, flicking his tongue rapidly over it.
You can tell by the way that his hips are starting to lose rhythm that he’s nearing his edge. And, surprisingly, you are too.
“Intak,” you try to warn him but he’s not listening, too far gone as he continues to mouth at your chest, eyes fluttering closed as he continues to chase his pleasure between your hips.
You bury your hand in his hair, pushing him further into you as you drive your hips sharply up against the hard ridge of his cock, and it takes just a few more hard presses of his erection squarely against your cunt for you to teeter on the edge.
Intak notices, and at the same time that he pinches your nipple with his hand, he bites gently down on the one in his mouth and tugs.
The sharp pleasure that bursts from your chest in tandem with a hard grind of his cock against your core has you tipping over the edge. You tense all over as your mouth falls open into a high whine, before your body jolts and trembles through your first orgasm.
Intak follows you right down, whimpering into your chest as his hips stutter through his own orgasm, giving a few more sharp grinds before his body goes slack, weight dropping fully onto you.
His head rolls on its side on your chest, your nipple popping out of his mouth as he heaves for breath. You lay there, twitching and reeling from your high.
A few moments of silence pass as you stare up at the ceiling, trying to even out your breaths and process the fact that Intak has just made you cum for the first time that wasn’t by your own hand.
Reluctantly, Intak lifts himself up and looks down at you with a crooked smile. “Well? Didn’t I say I never leave my girls unsatisfied?”
You let out a breathy laugh as you meet his twinkling eyes. “Uh huh.” Just with a little bit of grinding, he managed to hold true to his words. You’re both impressed with him, disappointed with your ex for not even holding a candle, and disappointed with yourself for doubting him. “That was… better than I thought.”
He hums, leaning down to peck your lips before he pulls himself up and off of you despite the whine you let out when his warmth is ripped away from you.
“Sorry,” he says sheepishly as he adjusts himself in his sweats. He’s wearing a dark pair so it’s difficult but you can still see the darker shade of the wet patch over his crotch. It has a pathetic shock of heat pulse through your core at the thought that that was there because of you. “I can’t stay for long. The others are waiting.”
“Right,” you say as you fix your shirt, pulling it down over your chest. You’d nearly forgotten there was a line of boys out there in the living room waiting for their turn to make you eat your words. “…I don’t stand a chance, do I?”
He chuckles at that, turning to walk through the door. “Not at all,” he says, turning his head and throwing you a wink over his shoulder. “Good luck.”
Then he’s gone, and you’re left laying there wondering who’s next— what’s next. It almost frightens you how quickly you find that tightness in your gut livening up again as you go through all the possibilities in your head.
You’re not left wondering for long before Jongseob steps through the door, looking pretty normal for the most part. But you see the light shake in his hand as he holds up the large bottle of water he brought in with him.
“Jiung’s orders,” he says as he walks over to your side and uncaps the bottle. He doesn’t hold your gaze for long before his eyes flit to the bottle he’s holding out for you.
You feel a warm wave of familiar fondness for your maknae as you take the bottle of him, feeling a little relieved that it’s him instead of someone like Jiung or Theo. You’re not quite ready for whatever that might be just yet. Or Keeho for that matter.
You pull yourself up to sit, wincing from the sensitivity between your hips that still lingers. “Thanks.” You take the bottle from him and drink, grateful for the wash of cold as it soothes your heated insides.
He’s a little awkward on his feet as he shifts on them, waiting for you to put the bottle aside on the nightstand before he speaks up. “You doing okay?”
You huff a little laugh as you lean against the headboard, looking up at him. “Uh huh. Just didn’t think I’d be proven so wrong, so quickly.”
He raises a brow at you as a teasing smile pulls at his lips. “Oh, so is our little experiment done then? We’ve proven you wrong already?”
“Nope,” you say, finding a surprising sense of confidence in his presence. “You guys promised me six ways. I better get six ways.”
His smile widens into a grin and you get a glimpse of his cute little snaggle tooth. His nerves seem to ease away as he falls into the rhythm of your familiar back and forth. “One orgasm in and you’re already calling the shots?” He taunts, climbing onto the bed and bracing himself with his knees on either side of your thighs. He hovers over you, taking your chin to lift your gaze up to him. “Bold. I like that on you.”
You blush at his sudden change in demeanour but you can’t lie; it’s spurring your spent body back to life quicker than you’d expected.
“What about you, Seobie?” You ask, placing your hands on his thighs before sliding them up to his hips over the smooth fabric of his track pants. “Where’s all this confidence coming from?”
His thumb brushes against your lower lip as a small smirk plays on his lips. He’s the picture perfect image of cool and collected, just like he is on stage. It’s a hell of a sight up close to you under the dim of your lamp instead of flashy lights. It feels more personal, like he crafted this confidence just for you.
“I guess you bring it out in me,” he admits, pressing his thumb against the plush of your lip.
You let your tongue flick out and kitten-lick against the tip of his finger, letting it linger there for a bit. His eyes darken and he takes a careful breath in before letting it out in a sigh that sounds a bit strained.
“If only I got to take my time with you,” he mutters under his breath, and the words leave you wondering.
“Is there a time limit?” You ask him when his hand falls to the side of your neck.
“Yeah,” he says, brushing his thumb up the hollow at the side of your neck. “15 minutes.”
You stare at him for a moment. “…That’s it? That doesn’t feel like enough.”
He grins in response. “Well Intak did it in time. You don’t think the rest of us can?”
“Well, no— I don’t know,” you huff, a little flustered. “What happens if we don’t finish in time?”
“Then you don’t get to come and I get a bruised ego,” he says then drops both his hands to your waist. He slips his hands under your shirt then slides them up your already tingling skin, pulling the shirt up as they go. “We can’t have that, can we?”
Electricity and heat zip down your spine in tandem when his hands don’t stop and your shirt lifts up over your chest, exposing your skin to the cool air. You lift your arms up to make it easier for him to pull the shirt completely off of you.
You sit there, half-bare under Jongseob’s prying eyes as he tosses the shirt aside somewhere on the floor. You can see him tenting against his pants as he shuffles off of you, his hands reaching for the waist of your sweats.
“May I?” He asks politely but it’s undercut by the way his eyes remain locked on your exposed breasts.
You don’t feel shy under his gaze though. You almost feel revered by his appreciative stare. You lift your hips in silent assent and he takes the cue to slip the sweats off of your legs and tosses them to join your shirt.
He’s quick to pry apart your legs and settle on his knees between them, his eyes finding a new target to lock onto; the wet patch on your thin cotton panties.
“Shit,” he mutters under his breath, reaching to grab himself over his pants and squeeze as an attempt to quell his arousal.
You flush under his attention now, feeling a little too exposed. Your legs twitch to close but he keeps them apart with a hand on your knee.
He brings the hand down, and with a feather light touch, he runs his thumb against the thin fabric, sliding a line of pressure up your centre that has your walls fluttering. You hiss when his thumb finds your clit and presses down, still a little sensitive from your first climax.
“You’re so wet,” he muses before moving his thumb down and pressing against where your entrance would be. He groans at the wet sound from the pooled mix of your release that Intak left behind and the arousal that’s starting to leak under Jongseob’s ministrations.
“Jongseob,” you whine, pressing your hips up in search of more than just light touches.
He clicks his tongue, looking up at you with a lazy smirk. “Impatient. You’re already eager for more? What, Intak wasn’t enough for you?”
You shudder at the way his words chastise you just the right amount to have you needy for his approval. But you don’t want to give in that easily. “Maybe,” you say, rolling your hips up again to press against his hand. He doesn’t pull away. “But isn’t it your whole job to give me what I want?”
He retaliates with a harsh press of his thumb against your clit with a scary precision given that he can’t even see it. It has you yelping and jerking away from his hand. “You’re lucky I’m not Taeyang,” he says, and the warning hits you in the gut. “Or that mouth on you wouldn’t get off so easily.”
You don’t get a chance to interrogate him before he’s hastily shoving aside the fabric of your panties and exposing your heated folds to the cool air. Jongseob squeezes himself again with a low grunt when he sees the slick mess there.
“You’re drenched,” he huffs, under trance by the sight of you for a moment before he snaps out of it and swiftly pulls off his shirt, leaving your mind blanking momentarily.
You rarely see him shirtless, but when you do, it’s a treat to see. Especially now.
Then he’s shoving down his pants and boxers down to his thighs and grasping himself, stroking tightly as he watches your gushing folds, and your mind goes blank again.
He’s pretty; thin but long and curved and flushed at the tip, milky pearls of arousal leaking at the head with each drag of his fist.
You’re snapped back to focus when he grabs your thighs and pulls you down on your back, lowering himself between your hips.
“Wait,” you say quickly, and Jongseob pauses immediately to look up at you, just letting himself hover while he waits.
“Yeah?” He asks, brows furrowing in concern.
You swallow, a little embarrassed and underprepared. “Are you… going to put it in?”
The concern washes away and he chuckles fondly. “No. That’s not for nowt,” he says before he lowers his body down to brace on his elbows on either side of you. Then you feel the heft of his cock press down on your folds, a pressure that has you both sighing. “Just this,” he says, lowering his eyes on yours.
You feel him throbbing against your clit, hot and solid against your sensitive folds. It feels nice, but you’re still left confused. “Just this?” You ask, the doubt clear on your face. You don’t see how you could possibly come from that.
But the smirk that grows on Jongseob’s lips tells you otherwise. “Just this.”
Then he shifts his hips so he slides down your folds, and when the head of his cock catches against your clit and sends a wave of pleasure through your core, you think, oh, that’s how.
His smirk stretches to a lazy grin when he sees the realization in your eyes and he drags himself back up, the friction giving you another shock of pleasure. “You like that?” He asks, then takes a sharp breath in through his teeth when he drags back down.
You nod, your hands clutching onto the wiry muscles of his bicep.
His movements are slow and methodical; each drag meant to place pressure against you just right and string you up slow and steady, a stark contrast to the frantic chase with Intak.
“Did that asshole ever take his time with you?” He asks you through grit teeth and it takes a second for you to process that he’s talking about your ex.
“N-No,” you answer through a gasp when his tip prods sharply into your clit on a thrust up. “H-He wasn’t really… ah, patient.”
He clicks his tongue. “No wonder he couldn’t make you come,” he mutters bitterly before he shoves himself off of you.
You’re about to protest but then he’s sliding your panties down your hips, cursing at the way strings of slick connect to it as he pulls them off your legs. He doesn’t let himself linger on the sight of you fully exposed as he gathers both of your legs and throws them over one of his shoulders. Before you can question him, he’s sliding himself in between your thighs, right on top of your folds, and using the slick mess there to start fucking your thighs in a steady rhythm, his tip pushing deliciously against your clit with each thrust.
You moan, deep breaths falling through your lips at the stimulation. The sight of him poking through your thighs and the hood of your cunt with each thrust leaves you feeling heady. “Fuck, Seobie,” you whimper. You watch the way he leaks from his slit, dripping down onto your pelvis and pooling there.
His hips falter when he hears the name fall from your lips, then braces himself with his arms around your legs, then starts to fuck against your cunt with a fast pace that has you both panting.
You can feel the coil in your gut wind tight again with each drag of his hard length over your throbbing clit. The sight of his face, flushed and blissed out with hooded eyes fixed on your face, has your head swimming. You’ve never seen him look that intense before, even when it comes to work, and it makes you falter realizing just how different this side of him is from what you’re used to.
It’s a thrilling revelation that has you quickly approaching your second climax.
“Seob,” you say through a hitched breath.
“Yeah?” He asks, getting a dark little grin on his face as he tilts his head back, eyes fluttering shut at the heaven between your thighs. “Gonna come for me already?”
“Yes,” you gasp, your hands fisting into the sheets as your body bucks up with each impact of his rough thrusts.
“Gonna make you cum,” he says through grunts, though you’re not sure if he’s talking to you anymore. “Gonna make you cum— unlike that bastard. Couldn’t even— fuck— couldn’t even touch you right. Probably couldn’t even find your clit— the fucker.”
He’s muttering the words to himself as his thrusts grow faster and more disjointed. But it’s doing nothing less to bring you over the edge.
His dark eyes fix on you again with something akin to bitterness among the desire. “Come for me then,” he says, then adjusts so the head of his cock angles to drive right into your clit with each sharp, pointed thrust, sending burning pulses of pleasure with each push. “Come for me like you never came for him.”
Your second orgasm hits you before you know it and you come with a yell of his name and your body arching off the bed. Jongseob follows after with a few more frantic thrusts, spilling ropes of hot release over your stomach.
He doesn’t stop— he keeps going, drawing you both down from your highs before rocking to a slow stop just before he can drive you into overstimulation. He keeps your legs hugged to his chest as he recovers, breathing heavily as his eyes take in the sight of you painted with his release.
You’re not sure if it’s your post orgasmic haze dreaming it up but you think you see a hint of possession with the way he eyes you. You don’t get to dwell on it before he presses a kiss to the side of your calf and slowly releases you.
It’s when he’s cleaning off your stomach with his shirt after having fixed himself up that you realize you haven’t gotten to kiss him.
“Jongseob,” you say, still splayed out on your back and stealing back your breaths.
He pauses and looks at you with his brows raised. “Hm?”
“Kiss me.”
The sudden request has him blinking to process and then blushing abashed, like he hadn’t just come on your stomach. “Oh. You want to?”
“No,” you say flatly. “That’s why I asked.”
He smiles sheepishly before he leans down and presses his lips to yours in a sweet, short kiss. You hum in content when he pulls back, smiling up at him. “Thank you,” you say, then tap his chin playfully. “Better than anything he’s ever done for me, combined.”
That has him blushing even brighter and he looks away with a shy little laugh. He finishes wiping you down then pulls the blanket that’s been shoved to the edge over you, giving you some cover before he goes.
“Do I really have to worry about Taeyang?” You ask him before he closes the door behind him.
Jongseob looks back at you and gives you a grin that does nothing to ease your worries. “You’ll just have to wait and see,” he says, then shuts the door behind him.
You groan to yourself, dropping your head back on the pillow. You should’ve gone into this by making them tell you all of their plans in detail so you wouldn’t have to be kept on your toes. But you can’t deny that it does make this more exciting.
Because even though you’ve already come twice, you have to squeeze your legs shut to soothe the way your core starts to spur back to life at just the possibility of the kind of danger that Theo might bring with him.
It’s Soul’s soft voice that pulls your eyes from the ceiling and towards him as he steps into the room a few minutes later.
“Hi,” he says as he makes his way over. He looks— normal. Nothing off the ordinary; no nerves, no eagerness, just plain intrigue as he peers at you laid out under the blanket. He wastes no time to jump onto the bed and sit on his knees by your legs.
“Hi,” you reply fondly, watching his hand as it lands on your covered knee and just holding there as a simple form of physical connection. A common occurrence with him, and it's no different even in this situation. Everything about Soul, everything that he does, always has you feeling endeared towards him.
“Are you tired yet?” He asks, round eyes flickering over the shape of you under the covers.
“Yes,” you answer, but then think otherwise as you take stock of yourself. “No. Eh, I don’t know.”
That gets a little giggle out of him, his thumb digging gently into the notch in your knee. “I hope not. There’s still a lot more planned for you.”
You let out a slow breath at the reminder. “Yeah,” you pause, then look over at him. Soul has always been an honest one, so you take your shot. “Are you going to tell me what you’re going to do?”
He gives you a simple nod, then says, “I’m going to eat you out.”
Your face burns at the bluntness but you can’t say you didn’t expect it. Though it seems like there was no rule to keep things hidden from you; Intak and Jongseob probably just wanted to see you squirm.
Your eyes fall to his pretty pink lips and you’re already envisioning them on you. Even knowing what’s about to happen, you’re still just as on edge as you were with the others.
His hand shifts to grab the edge of the blanket that lay by your side, not yet pulling. “Is that okay?” He asks you, polite as ever.
You’d never imagined Soul, the innocent looking boy you've smothered with your affections for years now, to be here before you, asking you if you’re okay with him making you come on his tongue. It’s disorienting enough to leave you craving it.
“Yeah, it’s fine,” you say, hoping you don’t sound as eager as you feel.
But Soul has an eerie way of reading people. He catches on, you can see it in the twinkle of his eye, and with an excited grin, he pulls the blanket off you.
You have to resist the urge to cover yourself by digging your hands into the sheets. Soul’s eyes practically sparkle as he looks over you, a little like he’s caught in a trance.
“Pretty,” he mumbles quietly, like it wasn’t meant to be said aloud.
You squirm when all he does is stare for a few more moments. You nudge your knee against his leg to pull him out of his daze and he spurs back to life, shuffling to kneel between your legs, his hands crooking under your knees to push them up and hold them apart.
You squirm some more when his eyes lock onto the wet mess between your legs and his tongue darts out to lick his lips.
“Shota,” you whine, nudging your foot against his arm. “Don’t just stare.”
He giggles but doesn’t move his eyes. “Sorry,” he says as he climbs down onto his chest, pulling your knees over his shoulders. His lips hover just over your core, breaths brushing over you and sending prickling sensations through you as he speaks. “You’re just so pretty. I can’t help it.”
You swallow back the moan that bubbles in your throat at his words. “Wait,” you say before he can do anything else.
He looks up at you now, brows raised. “Hm?”
“Can you take your shirt off?” You’re feeling a little too exposed with him fully clothed and you very much not. But also, the sight of Soul shirtless is a treat. It would be a shame to let those muscles he takes such good care of go to waste in a moment like this.
He’s smiling despite the blush that climbs high on his pale cheeks. He pulls himself up, yanks his shirt off in one go, before quickly settling back into position.
You mourn the sight of his abs being so quickly hidden away but then his arms are coming around your legs to hold you down, one hand settling palm-down on your lower stomach, and you can’t complain anymore when you’ve got his muscled arms in your view in all their veiny glory.
He laughs softly at your appreciative eyes. “Better?” He asks with a soft kiss to the inside of your thigh.
You sigh at the warmth it spreads up your leg. “Very.”
The smile remains on his lips as he trails his way down your thigh with warm kisses. You feel teeth graze lightly against your skin with each press that his tongue flicks out to soothe over, effective in the way it has you squirming where you lay as he inches closer to your waiting heat.
But just before he can reach it, he switches over to the other leg and you’re left sighing in frustration, your hips bucking up without your permission.
You feel his amused giggles against your thigh as he gives it the same attention as the other.
But as you watch him, so intent in the way he winds you up slowly just like Intak and Jongseob have done, you’re left to wonder just how much you’ve been missing out on. Being tended to so carefully, it makes you feel a little floaty.
Before you realize it your hand lifts from where you’d dug them in the sheets by your side and reaches to slide into his soft blond hair.
His eyes flutter at the touch and he abandons your skin in favour of leaning into the touch for a moment but you can’t complain, not when he turns his head to press a kiss to your palm. It has a warmth bloom inside your chest, snug and soothing.
But then the warmth shoots right down to your gut when he turns and attaches his lips to your clit without warning.
You hiss at the sudden pressure, your fingers digging into his scalp. You glare weakly into the mischievous glint in his eyes as he looks up at you.
“Still sensitive,” he says against your clit, making you twitch.
“No shit,” you huff, breaking into a moan when his tongue flits out and starts to press firm circles around the bud. Your body tenses as your mouth falls open with harsh breaths, your hand tightening in his hair.
Soul takes in every shift in your expression with his eyes as he drags his tongue down before letting it circle around your entrance.
He groans at the taste of you on his tongue, the vibrations sending you whimpering. He abandons his careful ministrations in favour of flattening his tongue against you and drinking up every bit of the mess that’s been left behind from your previous encounters.
Your hips push up to grind against his face but his hand on your stomach keeps you easily pinned down as he has his way with you.
Breathy moans from your lips spill out from the rapid flicks of his tongue against you and the way his little grunts spread little embers of sensation right through your core.
You only just notice the way his own hips are grinding into the mattress and the knowledge that he’s that turned on from just pleasuring you has your head reeling.
The blunt tip of his tongue pushes against your entrance, but it doesn’t stop this time; it pushes in with ease and leaves you gasping.
“Sh-Shota!” Your hand pushes down on his head of its own volition, trying to push him as deep in as he can go.
You feel it deeper than you expect it, the wet muscle prodding and sliding against your pulsing walls. When he groans, you feel it inside you.
His arms can’t restrain the way you’re squirming anymore with how hard your body’s starting to tremble. Every sensation feels like it’s dialed above ten with sensitivity. You don’t feel uncomfortable to have something breaching inside of you like all those times before with your ex; it actually makes you feel relieved and not like you’re being invaded. And you feel like you’ll lose your mind if it doesn’t stay in, doesn’t move.
So when you start to roll your hips up to fuck up against his tongue, Soul lets you, and pushes his tongue in tandem with your movements.
And when the tip of his nose rubs right against your clit with every movement, your control is gone.
You’re not sure what sounds are leaving your mouth but you don’t care, you just keep chasing the pleasure, keep fucking yourself up on his tongue, practically riding his face.
You start to fear you’re suffocating him and when you try to pull back, Soul buries himself right back into you. He’s whining against you, his eyes lidded and glossed over as he drowns himself in your cunt, and the rocking bed reminds you that he’s just as into this as you are.
It’s the combination of that, the pussy-drunk look on his face, and the way his tongue caresses your walls with each thrust that has your thighs clamping down on his head as you ride out your third orgasm right on his face.
Soul’s body shudders with a loud moan into you as you come around his tongue and he drinks you right up, not letting a single drop go to waste. He licks you through the high before he detaches from you with a soft kiss to your clit that does nothing to ease the tremors still rocking through you.
He lifts his head and you nearly moan at the sight of him; cheeks flushed, lower face drenched with you and eyes glazed over, looking practically drunk off of you and ready to devour you whole again.
“Jesus, Shota,” you mutter, having to raise your eyes to the ceiling to keep yourself from losing your mind again at just the sight of him like that between your thighs.
He responds by climbing up your body and kissing you eagerly.
You tense, taken aback by the sudden taste of yourself but you’re quickly coaxed into the kiss by his eager lips and tongue. You melt into the kiss, snaking your arms around his shoulders and pulling him down on you. He follows, pressing every inch of himself against you.
You’re stopped short when you feel the half hard length of him pressing on your thigh along with a noticeable dampness on his shorts against your bare skin.
You pull back from the kiss, looking up at him with wide eyes. “Did you… come from that?”
He doesn’t even look the least bit embarrassed as he nods and dives right back for your lips.
You’re powerless to stop him; too boneless to do anything but you can’t say you want him to stop. He dives eagerly into your mouth again and you meet him with a languid pace of your own, not that he minds.
You can feel your mind start to float away again as his hands eagerly wander over your body, grabbing and kneading every curve of your flesh as they pass, paying special attention to your chest.
He’s hardening quickly against your thigh as he eagerly bucks his hips against you, seemingly lost in his mind just seeking out any bits of pleasure.
You reach down for his erection, to help him out like he’s helped you, until he’s yanked up off you.
You mourn the loss with a panicked noise, trying to reach to drag him back to you. But your hands drop right back down when your eyes clear and you see Keeho holding Soul back with an arm around his throat.
Soul’s hands fly up to Keeho’s forearm as he blinks out of his own haze and comes into realization of what’s happening. His face flushes when he sees Keeho, who looks annoyed but no less amused. “Hyung,” he croaks, a little nervous.
Keeho raises a brow at him, a scolding look. “You’re way past your time, Shota,” he states before snapping those piercing, heated eyes to you.
Your heart jolts when you see the way his pupils are blown open in a heavy desire that pushes your breaths back down your throat.
“And you’re stealing mine,” Keeho adds, all amusement gone as his voice deepens into a threat.
Keeho releases Soul and Soul quickly scampers off the bed, grabs his shirt, and practically runs out of the room without another word.
But your eyes are stuck under the heavy weight of Keeho’s and you feel your body thrumming with a fresh wave of nerves.
His lips quirk up into a small smirk but there’s no mirth there. “Having fun?” He asks as he climbs onto the bed, on his knees so he hovers over your trembling body. When you don’t respond, he clicks his tongue. “I asked you a question, pretty girl.” The implication of what might happen if you don’t answer settles dauntingly in your head.
“Yes,” you quickly answer, and he smiles as he moves to lift your legs before settling to sit between them. You tense at the thought of picking right back up without a chance to recover from Soul. “W-Wait, I need some time.”
“Too bad,” he says easily as he reaches over to grab one of your pillows. “That’s something I don’t have right now.”
Without your control, your body shuffles away from him, like it’s trying to protect itself from the danger behind Keeho’s words. But his hand clamps down on your thigh and he pulls you easily back towards him.
“Where you going, pretty?” He asks you with a sly grin that has you squirming. “Don’t worry. You won’t be complaining in a few minutes.” He pats the underside of your ass. “Up.”
Your brows furrow. “What?”
He sighs before he hooks his arm under your waist and lifts you easily, shoving the pillow he grabbed under your hips before dropping you back down.
The way he’s able to handle you so easily has your stomach flipping and your eyes locking onto the way the material of his shirt stretches around his bicep as it flexes when he moves.
He notices your leering and grins, using his hands to push your legs apart. This new angle, hips propped up on the pillow for better access, has you feeling even more exposed. Your legs try to close on their own but Keeho quickly pushes them apart, clicking his tongue. “Keep ‘em apart for me,” he says, leaving you no room to disobey, so you don’t.
His eyes lock onto your cunt, and if possible, his gaze darkens. “Cute,” he says, glancing up at you. “Just like the rest of you.”
You avert his gaze, flustered, and he chuckles fondly. You’re not sure where all your confidence has gone. You suppose it’s different with Keeho, your leader, as opposed to your younger members.
“Cute,” he repeats before pressing his palms to the inside of your thighs, heavy and warm. “Have you taken anything inside yet?”
You swallow, feeling a little embarrassed to have to say the words aloud but you’ve been laid bare and exposed to your friends in so many ways already so it really shouldn’t feel so awkward anymore. Yet still.
“Shota’s tongue,” you answer in a thin voice, and he hums in acknowledgement.
“Did it feel good?”
You take in a shaky breath, your walls clamping around nothing like they’re remembering the feel of Soul’s tongue stretching them.
Keeho notices the way you flutter and chuckles. “That’s a yes then.” His palms start to slide down a path on the insides of your thighs slowly. “Has it ever felt good like that before? Having anything inside?”
You can’t bring yourself to say it, so you shake your head no.
The look in his eyes softens as his palms rest just outside of your heat. “Everyone treating you well so far?” He asks you, rough voice dulled into something gentler.
Your lips are helpless to the small smile that tugs on them; even now, Keeho upholds his leader role. He’s always been the one to look out for you and it puts you at ease to know that it’s no different now.
“Very,” you answer honestly. “Better than I could’ve imagined.”
“Good,” he says, mirroring your smile and leaning down to press a soft kiss to your knee. “This whole thing’s been about showing you how you should be treated. Sounds like we’re on the right track.”
You hum when his hands gently knead the flesh of your inner thighs. “Yeah. Guess I was wrong to think— fuck!”
Your thoughts as yanked right out of your head when Keeho pushes a thick finger inside of you all the way to the hilt in one smooth slide.
You look up at him with wide eyes. “Keeho!”
The grin on his lips is careless and predatory as he watches the way his finger sinks into you so easily. “Sorry baby, but I don’t have that much time left thanks to Shota.” He keeps his finger still as his other hand comes down and presses the thumb lightly against your clit, making you jolt. “Good thing you’re so sensitive.”
That’s all he says before he starts to pump his finger into you while his thumb circles your clit in quick, tight circles.
The touch to your clit feels more painful than pleasurable from the sensitivity, and it has you trying to buck away as high, frantic whines leave your lips, but Keeho is quick to hold you down with his forearm.
“Shh baby,” he whispers, pressing another kiss to the inside of your trembling knee as he continues to abuse your cunt with his quick pace. “It’ll feel better soon.”
And he’s right, because even though it burns, the pain slowly embers away into a pleasure that has you bucking up to his finger rather than away.
Keeho, who’s watching your expressions with a laser focus, grins when your features smooth down with pleasure. “That’s it, good girl,” he whispers and the words go right to your head and fill it with a hazy fog. “So good for holding out. Think you can take another one for me?”
Your breaths come out with little whines as you nod, eyes starting to go bleary.
“Say it for me,” he urges gently. “Need to hear you, pretty.”
You blink rapidly as you try to push the word through the fog in your head and out of your mouth. “Y-Yes,” you breathe, voice weak. “Can— ngh— take another.”
You feel his finger inside of you slow then feel the blunt tip of another start to press in with the next thrust. Just the two fingers feel almost overwhelming, a rougher feel than Soul’s tongue, but your walls, relaxed from three orgasms, take him in without protest.
Keeho’s thumb on your clit falters when he sees how easily you take him in. “That’s a good girl,” he coos, then pushes both fingers as far as they’ll go.
You whimper, feeling them so deep inside you, deeper than anything you’ve felt. And you’re left wanting more.
“More,” you plead, your hips rolling up to feel them press deeper despite already pushed all the way in.
You think you see Keeho’s eyes flash with hunger but your mind is far too gone right now to pay close attention.
“Fuck,” he grunts under his breath. “I’m gonna need you to myself sometime.”
Then he’s fucking his fingers into you relentlessly, his thumb spurring back to life over your clit to match the reckless pace.
You’re thrashing and moaning unabashedly, though you don’t have much control over any of your reactions anymore. Your hips buck up pathetically to meet his pace but he’s far too fast for you to keep up with. He has you feeling like liquid fire as he takes you apart with just his fingers and you can tell there’s no way you’ll last even the next three minutes, far too sensitive to every stimulation.
Then he does something you don’t quite understand. He stops, curls his fingers inside you, then resumes in a way that has the tips of his fingers abusing a spot inside of you that has you feeling the fire all over your body, has you arching off the bed as you scream out his name.
“That’s it,” he whispers, doubling down and pumping his fingers even faster.
But now there’s a new feeling in your gut, something you’re not familiar with at all and something strangely like you might be releasing things you very much don’t want to.
Your hands claw at Keeho’s arm that holds you down, trying to push him off but he’s like iron. “K-Keeho!” You cry through a trembling voice, trying to warn him with wide eyes.
But he doesn’t stop, keeps his heated gaze on your panicked face. “Don’t fight it,” he tells you. His fingers are relentless against that spot inside of you and has you barreling to something much faster than you’re prepared for. “Just give into it. I got you, baby. Come for me.”
That’s when it happens. Liquid, a lot of it, spraying out of you as your body jerks violently through your orgasm.
This one pierces through you harder than the others, electric fire that has your vision white and mind blank for how long, you can’t tell, but you just know that you’re gone.
It takes you a while to piece yourself whole, barely though. When your vision slowly strings itself back together, it’s to the sight of Keeho staring down at you, wide-eyed and slack-jawed and soaked from his chin to his shirt to his forearm with his fingers still buried in you.
You’re struck with the terrifying thought of what you might have just done and you feel yourself grow cold with mortification.
“Oh my god,” you whisper, feeling tears prickle at your eyes as you try to scramble away from him. “I’m sorry, shit, I’m so sorry, I don’t know what just—“
But before you can get far, Keeho grabs your hips and pulls you right back to him, leaning over to crush his lips to yours in a hard, searing kiss.
You yelp in pain at the hard clash of teeth and you barely get to process the kiss at all before he pulls back enough to mumble into your lips. “You just squirted,” he says, like he can’t quite believe it himself.
You blink up at him as he stares you down like he wants to ruin you all over again. You had no idea that you could even do that, or that it could be brought out of you so quickly.
Keeho grins at your shock before sealing his lips back over yours, swallowing your little whine of surprise. “I’m keeping you,” he mutters into the kiss as he digs his teeth into your lip. “Jiung can go fuck off, I’m gonna make you squirt for me again.”
You don’t get to protest that you can’t until another voice behind Keeho intercepts.
“Can I now?”
It’s Jiung’s voice, deep and irritated, as you hear it close in.
Your eyes fly open to see Jiung stood over you two by the bed, his hands shoved into his pockets. He doesn’t look happy. He looks impatient, brows furrowed and jaw clenched.
Keeho still doesn’t pull away from you; his fingers dig deeper into your hips and he kisses you more insistently like he’s trying to take as much as he can before you’re taken away from him.
“Keeho,” Jiung says in a tone that promises threat. It’s a tone that does dangerous things to your brain.
Keeho pulls back from your lips reluctantly, gaze locked onto you as he tells Jiung, “She squirted,” like it’s pertinent information.
It must be, because you see Jiung’s hard expression falter with shock before settling down into something more intense.
“Okay,” he responds slowly. “Now move.”
Keeho rolls his eyes but slowly pulls himself up to his knees, reluctant to let you go. You can see him straining against his sweats and realize with a start that he hasn’t come.
“You haven’t…” You start but break off when both of their eyes fall on you.
Keeho shakes his head with a lazy grin. “Don’t worry about me.” He pauses then turns to Jiung. “Actually, can I stay and watch?”
Jiung doesn’t hear him, he’s too busy taking in the mess that is you. You can practically feel the weight of his gaze drag down your skin like a tangible force.
“Hm?” He asks, distracted. When he processes the words, he pulls his eyes off of you but it looks like it takes him great effort to.
Keeho rolls his eyes and adjusts himself with his hand, wincing a little. “Mind if I stay?”
Jiung watches him quietly, considering, before he looks back at you. “That’s up to her.”
You freeze under both of their gazes. As much as the thought intimidates you, you can’t help but feel thrilled by it. Besides, you would feel a little guilty sending Keeho off without any relief even if he can handle it on his own. Everyone else has finished with you, so it would only be fair.
“Fine by me,” you concede, and Keeho lights up.
Jiung interjects before Keeho can celebrate too early. “You can’t interfere,” he says sternly, then points to the reading chair in the corner of the room. “Go sit there.”
“So bossy,” Keeho muses but he’s still grinning as he clambers off the bed and makes his way to his assigned spot. “Just pretend I’m not even here.”
A hard task, considering the fact that you can still see him at the edge of your vision and he has a perfect view of the scene. But the concept of a third party still has your head spinning in a new direction.
Your attention is dragged back to Jiung who climbs onto the bed and sits himself at the end with crossed legs. You pull yourself to sit up on shaky limbs, still recovering from your intense climax, folding your legs over your chest for some semblance of cover.
You’re grateful that Jiung doesn’t look like he’s ready to pounce anytime soon, eager for the chance to recover for whatever he might have in store for you.
That makes you wonder what it is that Jiung chose for his turn. You’re well aware of his dislike for physical contact so you’re not sure how to picture him in this setting.
Though the way his dark eyes settle on you, ready to tear you apart with just his gaze alone, has you questioning everything you know about him.
“You haven’t been drinking your water,” he says plainly, and even just that simple observation, the thought of him being upset with you in any capacity, keeps you on your toes.
It’s his voice, you think, that drives you crazy; a deep timbre that invades every corner of your head and settles at the base of your chest. Like it crawls everywhere around you and holds you down under its submission without your say.
You snap out of your trance when he narrows his eyes impatiently at you, flushing. “Oh.” You look over at the bottle that remains nearly full.
Looking at it makes you realize just how parched you are so you snatch it and swig down nearly half the litre. You think you might hear Jiung mutter something along the lines of, “Told you idiots to make sure she stays hydrated,” to the side of the room.
You place the water back down, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. You feel better despite the physical weight of your body trying to lull you down but your mind is still wide awake and on high alert.
You turn your attention back and see that Jiung is still watching you intently, now leaning back casually on his palms. The silence has you itching to break it and ask him about the question that’s lingering in your head but you’re a little intimidated by his gaze.
“Spit it out.”
You nearly jump from his sudden voice cutting through the silence. “Huh?”
“I can see you’re thinking something,” he says, tilting his head slightly. His face is impassive; you’ve never really been able to tell what he’s thinking during quiet moments. But he has no problems reading you. “What is it?”
You bite down on your lip as you wrap your arms defensively around yourself. “You don’t like touch,” you start.
He raises a brow before nodding slowly. “That’s true.”
“So…” You continue, struggling to hold eye contact. “How does this work then?”
You’re not sure what to make of the slow smile that climbs up his lips. It’s not one of his bright, sunny ones. It’s a quieter, more calculating slant of his lips that has you wishing you’d just kept shut.
“Simple,” he answers. “I’m not going to touch you.”
Now you’re confused, but more than that, you’re disappointed. “What?”
“You heard me,” he says, and you’re not sure if you’re imagining his voice deepening by the second. “I’m going to talk you through touching yourself.”
When he sees the blank look in your eyes, his smile widens, almost fond but more so like he enjoys watching you flounder about.
“I’m going to tell you what to do,” he continues, “and you’re going to do as I say. Okay?”
You’re starting to realize where this is heading and the thought floods you with embarrassment. “You’re just going to… watch?” You ask, then glance over at Keeho who’s watching the scene unfold with rampant attention as he traces his thumb lazily over his clothed erection.
“Sure,” Jiung answers, pulling your eyes back to him. “If that’s what you want.”
You’re reminded of what Intak had told you; that you’re the one who holds the power here. You haven’t exactly tested how much of that is true but now you’re starting to think it’s a viable option for you whenever you’d like it.
It’s that knowledge that has you straightening with a newfound courage. “Okay.”
His brows raise at you, that tiny smile still on his lips. “Yeah?” He asks, and it’s a little bit infuriating that he’s still looking at you like you’re a cute, clueless little thing.
“Yes,” you say firmly, meeting his eyes. “Now are you going to get on with it? Isn’t your little time limit ticking away?”
His jaw ticks at your sudden pushing. “I have some leeway, considering some people—“ He throws a sharp eye over to Keeho, “—don’t have manners.”
“Hey,” Keeho cuts in, indignantly. “Shota was eating my time.”
But he goes ignored as Jiung focuses back on you. “Fix your pillows and lean back. Get comfortable.”
A part of you wants to defy just to see what he does but you find yourself falling prey to the cadence of his voice yet again. You’ve always been a sucker for it. More often than not, you’ve completely zoned out to just listen to the sound of voice rather than what he’s trying to explain to you in the studio, leaving you in an awkward situation when he catches on. You think maybe this is his way of getting back at you with it somehow.
Once you’ve stacked all your pillows behind you, you lean back and settle down, your knees still pulled up to your chest. You don’t find yourself withering under his gaze anymore, not when you know just the sight of you is having an effect on him too by the way he’s starting to tent in his grey sweats.
“Good,” he comments offhandedly, his eyes moving down to your legs, or rather, trying to see past them. “Open your legs.”
When you hesitate, he shoots a sharp look up at your face that has your legs immediately pushing apart to reveal all of yourself to him, your knees bent at your sides.
You see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows and hear the faint shake of his breath when his eyes catch onto your core, still glistening. It’s starting to pool with a new wave of arousal that’s brought on by just the sound of Jiung’s voice.
His eyes move away with effort and rake up your body, stopping at your chest. “Anyone touched them yet?”
You’re still a little blindsided by how casually he— all of them, really— talk about all of this but you figure it’s about time to just get used to it. “Intak and Soul.”
He hums. “Expected. Play with them.”
It takes a second for you to process the command but when you do, it’s like your hands glide up your body on their own. You’ve never thought to stimulate your chest before on your solitary nights, but now that you know it’s a valid option thanks to Intak, that you’re sensitive there, you’re not opposed to it. You’re just not prepared for your first time touching yourself there to be in front of Jiung.
You take the soft mounds in your hands and squeeze gently. You’re surprised to find it a pleasant sensation under your own touch but it might also just be from the two sets of eyes watching your every move.
“Play with your nipples,” Jiung tells you, shifting slightly in his seat. His eyes are locked onto your hands. “Use your thumbs— yeah, just like that.”
You sigh softly as your thumbs circle around the already stiff peaks, feeling the soft burn of the stimulation spread throughout your chest. You take one between your fingers and tug gently, drawing a soft whine out of yourself. You nearly miss the way Jiung’s cock jumps against the confines of his revealing sweats.
You try and fail not to let that go to your head as you drag your eyes up to his face, the one so threaded with focus on you it’s nearly maddening.
“Jiung,” you say, voice breathy already.
He doesn’t move his eyes. “Hm?”
“Take off your hoodie,” you tell him, and that gets his attention. “Wanna see your tattoos.”
You preen internally at the light blush that rises on his cheeks. Like you expected he would have to, he obeys. He tugs the collar of his purple hoodie up and pulls it off himself in one smooth go, tossing it to the corner of the bed.
Your hands falter on yourself as your eyes rake over the ink on his pale skin; vines and leaves adorning the sides of his ribs, butterflies tracing over his abs and trailing tantalizingly down beneath the boxers peaking out of his sweats, and the crescent moon placed centre in his chest.
“Pretty,” you find yourself saying and learn then that Jiung blushes down his chest.
“Take one hand off,” he says hurriedly, like he’s trying to take the situation back under his hand. But you can see the way that his chest has started rising a little more with each breath.
You obey regardless, dropping your right hand in your lap.
His eyes move back down to your core. “Spread it open,” he says. “Wanna see everything. But don’t touch your clit.”
You lick your lips nervously, feeling your cheeks burn, but you move your right hand down and slide two fingers between your folds making sure to avoid your aching clit. The heat of your own skin is a nice reprieve until you scissor the fingers open, spreading yourself apart and exposing to the cool air.
You can hear his breath hitch as his jaw clenches at the sight. “You’re gushing,” he mutters to himself, an observation you’re well aware of but has you squirming when you hear it aloud. “Take some of it. Circle your clit. Lightly.”
You expected him to make you tease yourself more but with the choppy breaths he’s taking and the short sentences, you sense he’s starting to lose patience. Or lose time. Either way, you don’t deny yourself the pleasure.
You collect some of the arousal with both of your fingers then drag them up to your clit. You keep your touch light as you circle slowly, sighing deeply at the touch.
You hear a soft grunt to your left and glance over to Keeho. You’d nearly forgotten about him, but the sight of him has your fingers faltering. He has his hand down his sweats, stroking himself slowly. His head is thrown back against the back of the chair, hair messy over his forehead, cheeks flushed, plush lips bitten red and parted as he pants sharply. His eyes are hooded slits as they watch your hand work yourself, fisting his own cock to match the slow pace of your fingers.
Your gaze is pulled back to Jiung when he snaps, “Eyes on me.” His own eyes are impossibly dark and his jaw is set tightly. “Don’t look at him.”
You give him a small nod, whining softly as you focus back on moving your fingers steadily over your aching clit. It’s hard to not notice the way Jiung is straining against his pants.
“Jiung,” you say through a breath, lifting your eyes back to his face. “Touch yourself.”
Your command takes him aback. You can see the conflict in his eyes to put himself in a vulnerable position to not only you, but with Keeho in the room too.
Sensing his hesitation, Keeho pipes up. “C’mon, Jiung,” he says, voice light despite the strain. His breaths are audible through his words. “You gotta do what she says.”
So you really do have the power here.
You raise your brow challengingly at Jiung and he finally relents, letting his arousal win, though not without sending you a hard look first.
He leans back on one hand before letting the other slip down into his sweats. He grasps himself in a hard squeeze that has him tilting his head back and letting out a low groan. You want to trace the way that his throat shifts around another groan with your tongue.
He rolls his head to the side to focus his gaze back on you. He doesn’t do much with his hand, just lets it rest there and squeeze himself every few seconds.
“How many fingers did Keeho use on you?” He asks. His voice sounds heavier with arousal.
“Two.”
“Put one in. All the way, and don’t stall.”
You can see the impatience worn clearly on his face in furrowed brows and hardened edges. Without delay, you divert your hand and push your middle finger into yourself in one smooth slide. Even as it presses all the way in you find yourself mourning Keeho’s longer, thicker ones.
“Good girl,” Jiung praises and it goes straight to your cunt, making it pulse around your finger. “In and out, slowly— yeah, just like that.” He looks in a near trance at the way your walls suck your finger in with each languid thrust, leaking steadily around it.
You see his hand start to move now as he starts to stroke himself slowly to match the pace of your finger.
You find yourself cursing those grey sweats for blocking your vision.
“Stop,” you tell him, and he pauses his hand with a confused albeit annoyed look on his face. “I wanna see you.”
His jaw ticks but he doesn’t hesitate this time. He lifts himself a little, pushing his sweats and boxers down just enough to reveal himself before taking his cock back in his hand and squeezing. “Better?” He asks you sardonically.
Yes, you want to say but your voice is stuck in your throat. Because the sight of him, long and hard and a pretty shade of pink as it strains with arousal, has you nearly moaning.
You push your finger into you a little quicker without thinking and Jiung takes that as his answer. “Slow down,” he snaps, and when you do, adds, “Put another one in.”
You push your ring finger in to join, moaning softly at the stretch but it still feels nothing like Keeho’s. When Jiung gives you the go, you pick up the pace again, a little faster by his order.
You try to prod around to reach for that spot that Keeho had practically torn you apart with but you can’t. Jiung notices the frustration on your face and laughs softly. “We’ll get there. Use your other hand on your clit. We need to get another finger in first.”
You bite down on your lip to hold in your whimper. Your other hand, which was just sitting limply against your chest at this point, falls quickly to press tight circles against your clit.
Everything you’re doing to yourself feels better than you’ve ever managed to make yourself feel in the past. Maybe it’s because of the soft grunts and moans and the slick sounds of skin against skin coming from the corner of your room where you’re forbidden to look at; maybe it’s because of the way that Jiung sits pretty in front of you, fisting his own cock to the sight of you getting yourself off; maybe it’s because of the way that he mutters soft praises to you every few moments and urges you to go faster, slower, deeper, shallower; maybe it’s not the commands at all but just his voice— but all of it brings you closer and closer to another daunting climax.
“Put another one in,” Jiung tells you, his breaths coming harder around his words. There’s a thin sheen of sweat on his skin as he works himself in tandem to your pace. “Need to get you properly stretched out.”
The implication of those words falls past you as you start to press your index finger in with the others, the stretch making your body tense and your other hand falter.
It burns a little but it burns good. The amount of slick still spilling out of you makes the way in easier, and soon you’re steadily pumping three fingers in while your other hand works your clit again, short moans tumbling out of your lips.
Jiung’s breaths are even more laboured as his fist speeds up over himself, his eyes starting to glass over. He’s fighting against them as they keep trying to flutter shut. He’s starting to sound a little ruined too as he speaks. “Hook your fingers up,” he says, then continues at your confused look. “The spot that you were looking for. Hook your fingers. Up.”
You follow his instructions and crook your fingers, but you still can’t seem to reach it. How Keeho had managed to find it with such scary precision, you desperately want to know.
“I-I can’t,” you whine, hating the desperate sound of your voice but you can feel yourself close, so close, but you need that final edge to push you over. The stimulation to your clit isn’t enough anymore, not after everything you’ve felt tonight.
Jiung starts to look a little panicked as his eyes flick over to your nightstand, and you realize he’s probably running out of time.
“Okay,” he says, his hand pausing over himself when he sees your eyes well with frustration. You see the way his cock twitches as it’s neglected but he ignores it in favour of focusing on you. “I can’t touch you, but just listen to my voice—“
“That won’t be necessary.”
Your head snaps to the left. The sight of Theo standing against the doorway with his arms crossed has a sinking feeling intruding the arousal in your gut. Everything stops, like the moment is waiting with baited breath for Theo to take it under his command.
You’d nearly forgotten that Theo was still to come. And when you realize the only thing that could possibly be left for his turn, your body freezes over.
“Taeyang,” Jiung says after recovering from his surprise. “I still have a few minutes left.”
Theo pushes himself up straight, shutting the door behind him with his foot as he makes his way in. He doesn’t acknowledge Keeho, who’s also stopped still and staring with wide eyes, as he makes his way over to the bed. There’s a small smile on his lips, lazy, like he’s only mildly interested in everything that’s happening.
“I gave you plenty of extra time,” he tells Jiung while keeping his disinterested eyes on you. “And you still failed.”
You bristle under his stare but he’s quickly moving on to focus on Jiung, who’s looking more nervous now than irritated.
“I told you I should’ve gone earlier,” Jiung mutters through grit teeth as Theo circles around the bed to hover over Jiung’s back.
“Doesn’t matter anymore, does it?” Theo asks coolly. He leans over Jiung’s shoulder and looks down where Jiung is still holding himself in a tight grip. “Did she tell you to touch yourself?”
Jiung doesn’t answer verbally, only nods.
“Hm…” Theo lowers his head to rest his chin on Jiung’s shoulder, making him flinch at the sudden contact. “Maybe that was the problem. Maybe you should’ve focused more on her and less on yourself.”
Jiung works his jaw in frustration but stays still. “You said we should listen to her.”
“Should,” Theo repeats with a grin. “The ‘when necessary’ was implied.”
“Taeyang, I swear—“
Theo doesn’t let him finish. “You’re done with her,” he says, easy and stern, as he lifts himself off of Jiung, leaving the other boy wide eyed and incredulous.
“Are you serious?” He snaps, looking up at him with a glare.
“Very. You know the rules,” Theo answers as he makes his way back around to stand at the side of the bed, between you and Jiung. “Get behind her.”
Jiung’s brows furrow, matching your own confusion. “What?”
Theo simply smiles at Jiung as he reads him his fate. “You’re gonna get behind her so I can fuck her on you. And don't even think about coming.”
You feel your insides churn as the words settle, your hands, after unsheathing from yourself while their attention was off of you, curling into the sheets. Everything Theo is saying is so… casual. But he’s talking about fucking you on top of Jiung. That’s far from casual and far from anything you’re prepared for.
But the look on Jiung’s face tells you he’s having it worse. He pales, throat tight as he asks, “Why?”
“Punishment,” Theo says, like it’s obvious. “We set out on a mission here to show her everything she was missing out on. And you failed. So, punishment.” He leans down, invading Jiung’s space and leveling his condescending gaze inches away from his. “Are we clear?”
You can see Jiung’s face twitch as he restrains himself from lashing out. But then he nods, an act of quick submission that takes you by surprise. You start to wonder just what kind of hold your oldest member has over not just you, but the rest of the group.
Then Theo’s eyes are on you where you’re curled up, trying to shield yourself away from whatever was unravelling in front of you.
“Is that okay with you?” He asks you, voice momentarily shedding that commanding edge.
Honestly, you don’t care what happens anymore as long as you get to come again. Even if the thought of Theo being the one to fuck you to it is daunting, with his domineering aura and seemingly sadistic tendencies. But the part of you that’s still loose in the head from everything that’s happened tonight finds you wanting to give yourself over and let him take care of you, let him show you what you’re missing out on, by his words. Even if it was at the expense of Jiung’s sanity. You’ll pay him back later.
“Fine by me.”
A heavy silence fills the room as the confirmation of what’s about to happen settles in the thick air.
Until Keeho breaks it with a pouty whine of, “Wait what about me?”
He’s still sitting on the chair, splayed out with his legs spread, elbows on the armrests while one hand squeezed around the base of himself. He’d shoved his pants down so you can actually see just how painfully hard he still is, almost purpling at the tip. Your mouth nearly waters at the thought of running your tongue along the thick vein that you can see protruding along his underside from where you’re sitting.
Theo catches your eye with a questioning brow raise. It’s up to you, he says silently with them.
“He can use my mouth,” you blurt without thinking, taking yourself by surprise.
Theo’s eyes flash in shock but his lips quirk up in a proud little smile. “Only when I say you can,” he tells Keeho, before gesturing him over.
Keeho nearly stumbles as he makes his way over to settle at the edge of the bed before shedding himself out of his clothes. You don’t get long to appreciate the valleys of his tan skin, taut over smooth planes of muscles before you’re distracted by Theo.
Theo, who’s taking off his shirt and has everything else fade away from your focus when you catch a glimpse of the inked crown on the side of his rib cage.
When Theo notices the room in still motion, he rolls his eyes. “What?” He asks, raising a taunting brow at Jiung. “Do I have to order you to do everything now?”
Jiung’s lips twitch down in a scowl. “No,” he says smoothly despite the sharpness in his eyes. He goes to pull his sweats back up but Theo grabs his ankle and yanks him forward, sending Jiung sprawling on his back with a panicked grunt.
“Off,” Theo says sharply down at him, leaving no room for protest as his hand squeezes tightly around his ankle.
Jiung stares up at Theo with wide eyes, red heat climbing up his neck. You don’t miss the way his cock jumps, and neither does Theo.
But Theo shows him mercy and lets go of him, letting him scramble out of his layers and shuffle to the head of the bed where you are.
Your limbs lock up when Theo turns his full attention to you. He reaches forward and wraps his muscled arms around you to pull you forward as Jiung settles behind you. You relish in the warmth of Theo’s skin before he’s placing you so that your back is laying against Jiung’s front while he’s laid back the pile of pillows you made earlier.
You gasp softly when you fully settle against him, feeling Jiung’s erection prodding at your lower back, stiff and hot against you. You hear Jiung hiss softly softly at the contact behind your head.
His skin is warm and a little damp against your back but the feeling of him behind you, his presence just there, is almost grounding. His hands come up to hold your waist but Theo is quick to interject.
“Don’t touch her,” he says sharply and Jiung immediately fists his hands into the sheets.
You hear a chuckle to your right followed by Keeho’s teasing, albeit a little strained, voice. “I’ve never seen him so obedient.”
Theo glances over to share a playful grin. “You just don’t know how to handle him yet.”
“Even after all these years," Keeho muses dramatically. “Might have to take a lesson or two from you, Taeyang.”
“Can you two shut the fuck up?” Jiung snaps in an uncharacteristic show of short temper.
You haven’t heard him like that in a couple years, but hearing his deep voice right by your ear now, rough and sharp as he speaks, is doing things to your body you don’t want to address.
And of course, Theo catches the way your eyes flutter and you inhale sharply, and you nearly wither away under the devilish grin that curls on his lips. “I knew it,” he says.
You turn your face away from him. “Know what?”
He grabs your chin to turn your gaze back at him. “Don’t try to hide,” he warns. “It’s a good thing I’m feeling selfish right now or I’d let him help me ruin you.”
The thought of both Theo and Jiung working you over the edge together has your walls fluttering. And of course, Theo notices that too.
“Dirty girl,” he taunts as he climbs onto the bed, sitting on his knees in front of you.
From this close you can see the outline of him, large and heavy, through his loose pants and he’s not even fully hard yet. Your body thrums with nerves at the thought of having to take that size inside of you.
“What’s wrong?” He asks you, smug when he sees the way you eye him. “Don’t think you can take it?”
You grit your teeth, meeting his taunting gaze with a sharp one of your own. “Isn’t time ticking, Yangie?”
He takes your chin in his hand, shoving his thumb into your mouth and holding your tongue down. You whine at the sudden intrusion, trying to clamp your mouth down but he’s firm in the way he tugs down and holds you open. “I think that should be the least of your concerns right now.”
Jiung pipes up in your defence behind you. “Are you saying you’re not biding the time limit?” He’s tense behind you, his voice still tight the way he speaks to Theo.
Theo’s eyes lift to Jiung’s over your head. “If it weren’t for me, none of this would be happening,” he says, and there’s no response from Jiung. Theo looks back down to you, pushing his thumb deeper into your mouth, threatening to nearly gag you. “I think I should get a little leeway for that, shouldn’t I?”
You just glare back at him in response. You’re not sure what it is about him, but he brings out the defiant nature in you. Maybe you just want to see how far you can push.
Theo smiles down at you before pulling his thumb out. “Cute.” Then he’s shoving two of his fingers back in your mouth, deep enough to actually have you gag this time before pulling out halfway and just letting them sit over your tongue.
You blink through the tears that have risen and see that all amusement is gone from Theo’s eyes, leaving cold indifference.
“Do you plan on mouthing off again?” He asks you, in an eerily gentle voice.
You think you might die if things get strung out too long; you’re still aching from not getting to finish from your time with Jiung.
So you shake your head no and Theo pulls his fingers from your mouth. “Good girl,” he says, then moves his hand down to push those fingers into your cunt.
You gasp sharply, pushing yourself back on Jiung at the sudden invasion, your legs trying to lock shut but Theo keeps them apart. You can feel Jiung’s cock kick against your back but you’re more focused on Theo’s fingers stretching you, shorter than Keeho’s but thicker.
Theo hums, watching your walls squeeze around him as he scissors his fingers open like it’s something clinical, completely ignoring the way you’re whining and writhing at the burn.
“It’ll fit,” he decides before pulling his fingers out.
You let out a shaky breath of relief, your head dropping back on Jiung’s shoulder.
Jiung’s body is taut with restraint behind you, his breaths coming out harshly against your left ear. He’s like stone against your lower back, hot and pulsing. You shift back a little, pushing yourself against his erection and you hear his breath hitch with a quiet whine only you can hear.
“Don’t,” you hear him whisper under his heavy breath.
It all goes unnoticed by Theo who’s busy working himself out of the rest of his clothes. And you forget all about Jiung when you’re met with the sight of Theo who’s thick enough at only half mast to have your legs clamping shut in fear.
“You’re not going to fit,” you say quickly, panicked as you try to shove yourself further into Jiung.
“Fuck, stop,” Jiung grunts behind you as he grabs your waist and holds you down to keep you from brushing against him.
Theo doesn’t chastise him but he does point you with a sharp look as he takes a hold of himself, stroking slowly. “You can take it,” he says, using his free hand to pry your knees apart again. “You’ve been preparing the whole night for it. It’ll fit.”
“Still,” you whine, feeling your head rush as you watch him thicken in his grasp.
You’re still squirming yourself out of Theo’s grip despite him getting increasingly annoyed.
“Jiung, hold her legs open.”
You hear Jiung scoff over your ear. “I thought you didn’t want me to touch her.”
One sharp look from Theo has Jiung reaching around you to grab you under your knees and pull your legs apart, leaving you exposed and vulnerable to Theo.
You turn your face into Jiung’s neck to hide, still trembling in his hold. You can’t help but feel a little humiliated being pried open like this in front of them, tears starting to prickle at your eyes.
The press of soft, plush lips against your jaw has you peeking out to see Theo an inch from your face and looking down at you with a softer edge to his still heated gaze. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he assures you. “You trust me, don’t you?”
Your eyes flutter closed as you try to take ahold of your uneven breaths. This is your Theo, the one who gives you the sweater off his back when you’re cold, the one who gives you his seat when everything else is taken, the one who’s always the first to make you laugh when you’re down. You take a deep breath and open your eyes, blinking away the tears.
“Yeah,” you breathe, peering up into his eyes, easing down at the soft smile that grows on his lips. “I trust you.”
He lets his eyes linger in yours, searching for any more signs of distress. When he doesn’t find any, he leans forward to press his lips to yours.
The kiss is gentle, grounding, caring— everything your Theo is.
But the soft spell is broken when you feel the blunt head of his cock against your clit.
He swallows the moan right from your lips before he lifts from the kiss, meeting your wide eyes with his that have lost the softness in them.
“You’re gonna take it for me, ‘kay?” That stony edge to his voice is back and you find yourself falling under its weight.
You nod quickly and Theo kisses you again, hard and searching as he drags the head of his cock down to your entrances and pushes.
You pull back from the kiss, tossing your head back over Jiung’s shoulder as you let out a broken cry. The stretch of him is nearly unbearable and all encompassing. And it’s only just the tip that breaches into you.
Theo’s forehead drops to your shoulder with a strained grunt, his own body going taut. “Fuck,” he hisses, overwhelmed by how tight your walls are around him.
Your eyes blur with tears as you blink up at the ceiling, breaths stuttering past your lips.
“Just breathe,” you hear Jiung’s soothing voice whisper in your ear, his lips brushing against it as he speaks. “Breathe. You got it.”
You follow his voice, follow his instructions as he guides you through taking Theo to the hilt. You open up slowly, swallowing deep breaths to let your body relax and open up for him. The sweet words from Jiung’s lips— that's it, you’re doing so good for us, so good, just keep breathing, such a good girl— guide you through the paces until Theo buries himself fully inside of you with a deep, shuddering sigh.
“Atta girl,” Theo whispers in your other ear, pressing a quick kiss to it. His voice is rough, strained, and somehow still condescending. “Told you you could take it.”
You whine softly in response because your ability to speak, or think even, is muddled out by the full feeling of him practically tearing you open from the inside. But despite it all, it’s a stretch that has you pulsing around him, like your walls are trying to keep him buried inside of you and keep you full.
Theo grunts at the way your body just sucks him in. His hands brace tightly against your hips before, without a warning, he starts to pull out.
The feeling is just as intense, has you crying out and has tears slipping down your face. But he’s not so patient this time. He pulls out in an agonizing drag until just the tip remains before he slowly pushes back in in that same, torturous drag.
It continues like that, until your cries of pain fade into short, rapid moans as the stretch burns away into pleasure.
Your eyes are blurry and your mind is half there, but you can still make out Theo’s strained words clearly. “Taking me so well,” he says through a grunt as he snaps his hips into you at a pace that’s steadily increasing. “Fit so nice and— ah, fuck— like you were made to take me.” He drops his forehead to yours, a thin sheen of sweat gleaming over his skin as his blown eyes bear down on yours. “Weren’t you?”
Your tongue feels too heavy in your mouth so you whine in response, eyes fluttering.
“Yeah you were,” he breathes then pushes into you with a sharp thrust that has you moaning sharply, your hands scrambling to grab onto his arms. “Just made for my cock.”
His hips start to speed up, making sure to drive all the way into you with each thrust. Your body bucks up with each snap, sending you rocking steadily on top of Jiung’s cock.
Jiung is barely holding on behind you; his hands shake as they try desperately to keep you open for Theo, his breaths laboured as they fall rapidly from his lips, his cock throbbing under each rock of your body. It takes great effort to hold back from coming, but he’s already far too close to the edge to where he knows it won’t be possible to hold back for long.
He peers over your trembling body to look up at Theo, his eyes prickling with tears from how painful it’s becoming to hold back.
“Taeyang,” he whispers, and the way Theo’s eyes snap from yours to his, fiery charcoal burning into his own, has him nearly toppling over the edge. He hopes the pleading look on his face is enough to get his question across. But the devil doesn’t make fair deals and Jiung’s got one holding his fate.
“No,” Theo tells him before he turns back to you and starts driving his hips even faster, tossing Jiung right into his own personal little hell as he lays there, neglected and forced to just take.
Theo feels nearly manic at the sigh of both you and Jiung under him, crying for him. But the sight is just too pretty and your walls are so warm as they swallow him in with each rough thrust, that he feels too high off of the power to let it go just yet.
Your eyes are unfocused on him, mind truly well and fucked out after the hours of constant stimulation. There’s a steady stream of moans and whines and babbles of please, please, please’s from your lips that he’s sure you’re not even aware of that spills into the thick air between you.
It goes straight to his cock, pulsing inside of you. But he holds back; he’s not close to done with you yet.
“You’re so noisy,” you hear Theo scold you lightly.
You can’t process much except for the heavy pressure pounding between your hips at a steady pace and the strokes of fire that spreads from it.
But you hear the command clearly as he glances over at Keeho to your right. “Do something about it, won’t you?”
Before you know it, there's a blunt pressure prodding between your lips. As if on instinct you turn your head and let your jaw fall open to accept Keeho into your mouth, throbbing and salty on your tongue as he starts to shallowly fuck into your mouth.
His face is strained as he looks down at you, eyes wide and glazed over in pure lust. He fists a hand into your hair and holds you in place as he starts to pick up the pace, though it’s already stuttering.
“M’not gonna last long, pretty,” he pants, hissing with each thrust in. “Fuck, you’re so warm.”
You moan around him at a harsh thrust from Theo, a sound that has Keeho’s cock twitching in your mouth.
“Fuck,” he snaps, his hand gripping tightly into your hair and sending sharp prickles of pain through your scalp. “Fuck it.”
Then he’s driving his cock deeper into your mouth at a rapid pace, nearly hitting the back of your throat with each thrust and leaving you gagging each time. But he doesn’t stop, just drives into you, pushing your head into him as he fucks into your warm, pliant mouth. “Take it, take it, take it.”
He comes with a loud, strained moan, pushing your head into his pelvis as he pushes all the way in and spills down your throat, cock twitching as it pulses around him.
It’s the way that your head goes floaty when his cock cuts off your air and you’re forced to swallow his cum, and the way that Theo circles his thumb around your throbbing clit, that does you in.
Your body thrashes in Jiung’s hold as your orgasm rips through you. You moan loudly around Keeho’s cock still buried in you as you come over Theo’s cock, tears streaming down your face and your nails digging roughly into Theo’s arms.
You feel Theo’s pace falter as you tremble through your climax, coughing when Keeho finally pulls out of your mouth.
You’re pretty sure you’re dead where you lay atop Jiung, still rattling from the orgasm as you come down from it.
But Theo doesn’t even give you the chance to recover from it before he resumes fucking you into the mattress, Jiung too by proxy, at the same rough pace.
Oversensitive and overwhelmed, you start clawing at Theo’s arms again, your body thrashing without your control. “T-Tae—!” Your voice breaks off before you can finish. You’re not sure when you’d started sobbing.
“Five,” Theo grits through his teeth, eyes still swollen black with desire and lust-drunk mania. He’s panting from the effort of fucking into you at the same, maddening pace. “Promised you six. You’re gonna come for me again.” His breaths are short, and his hips are starting to stutter, but he doesn’t slow down.
You try to protest and tell him that you can’t, but then he’s wrapping his hand around your throat and squeezing down on the sides with his fingers and you get that floaty feeling in your head again, like you’re lifting out of your body. Your body’s starting to feel numb but you also feel everything all at once and you’re not even sure where you’re last orgasm ends, if it even did, and the next one starts, but you’re coming again, body quivering, eyes rolling back, jaw falling open in a silent cry.
The sight tips Theo right over the edge with you as he fucks into you hard, one, twice, three times before he shoved himself all the way in and paints you deep within your walls with hot ropes of his release. He plasters himself down on you as his body gives out but his hips are still grinding into you, rocking his cum deep into you.
You’re not sure when you had passed out— or, did you pass out?— but when you blink your eyes slowly open you’re met with Keeho and Theo’s concerned faces peering down at you.
As soon as your eyes open, their faces wash over in instant relief.
“Thank god, she’s fine,” Keeho says, dropping his head low and sighing in relief.
Theo turns to Keeho and whacks him on the back of his head. “I told you I didn’t fuck her dead, you idiot.”
Keeho yelps and lifts his head with a glare. “Well, what else was I supposed to think, she went out!”
Theo just glares back at him in silence.
Okay, so you did pass out. But you don’t feel quite awake just yet either, at least not physically. Your bones feel like ten tonne bricks, there’s a sticky soreness thrumming between your hips, and every movement takes a Herculean effort as you try to shift.
The pair of arms wrapped around you, trapping your arms under them, prevents you from moving. You try to shift again but the arms clamp down even tighter and a tiny panicked gasp hits you behind your ear. Jiung.
That’s when you feel it— the thick dampness splattered along your back and Jiung’s softened cock pushed against the small of your back.
“Hey.” Your focus snaps back onto Keeho as he brushes your hair out of your face. “Are you okay?”
You blink up at him. Besides the heavy limbs, the sore throat, the somewhat bearable ache between your legs, and your syrupy mind, you feel fine— good, even.
“Yeah,” you say, taking all of you by surprise at how croaky your throat is.
Theo turns back to glare at Keeho. “You went too hard on her.”
Keeho whips his head to him, flabbergasted. “You’re one to talk!”
“Guys,” you groan, trying your best to blink yourself out of the fog that’s making your brain feel like soup. “Quiet, please.”
“Sorry, sorry,” Keeho amends quickly. “C’mere, let’s get you in a bath.”
He reaches forward to pick you up but Jiung’s arms clamp down on you again and yanks you right back down, refusing to let you out of his arms.
Theo and Keeho both turn to Jiung, identical expressions of shock worn on their faces at the uncharacteristic show of clinginess.
“Ji?” Theo asks, reaching past you to touch Jiung but you feel Jiung’s face bury into your shoulders.
Your mind snaps almost fully awake when you feel his lashes flutter against the skin on your neck, damp with tears.
“I didn’t mean to,” you hear him mumble into your shoulder in a tiny voice.
You know what it means, but you let Theo and Keeho figure it out on their own. Theo gets to the answer quicker, a fond but teasing smile pulling on lips.
“You just couldn’t hold yourself back, could you?” He teases, reaching over to affectionately scratch at Jiung’s head but Jiung buries his head further into you and away from the touch.
“I tried,” you hear him whisper. “‘M sorry.”
You feel a wave of fondness wash over you at how small he sounds. He’s never this clingy, never this whiney, and it makes you want to bury him in your arms despite the fact that you can still feel his cum drying against your back.
Keeho seems to feel the same sentiment as he surges forward and somehow wraps his arms around both you and Jiung.
“He’s so cute,” Keeho coos and that seems to snap Jiung out of it a little, his usual grumpy tone back into his voice as he tells Keeho to fuck off.
You can’t help but giggle at their antics, a sound that has everyone stop short and stare down at you.
Your laugh fades out at the attention. “What?”
Theo’s smile is soft as he pulls the blanket off of the floor and throws it on top of you. “Nothing,” he says, tucking the blanket around the three of you.
“I didn’t think cuddling was offered,” you mumble, but being sandwiched between Keeho and Jiung is something you really can’t complain about.
“You get the full package,” Keeho says, running his hand through your hair, fingers gently scratching down your scalp.
You hum under the touch, eyes fluttering closed. It makes you almost want to purr. “I don’t remember paying for a full package.”
“You’re not paying us at all,” Keeho states.
“Should I?”
He whacks you atop the head with the hand that was carding through your hair and you nearly whine at the loss of his fingers digging into your scalp. “We’re not cheap whores,” he scolds you lightly.
“No, but you sure act like ‘em,” you say then snicker at the affronted look on his face.
“You seemed into it though,” Theo points out as he climbs back into bed, damp towel in his hand and sweatpants back on. You didn’t know when he’d left.
Your cheeks heat at the accusation. “Kinda hard not to be,” you mutter, turning your face into the pillow.
You inhale sharply when you feel the hot towel press against your back.
“Sorry,” you hear Jiung mumble before he makes quick work of wiping down your back then between your legs, making sure to be careful but even the slightest touch has you twitching and whining.
You feel better wiped clean, comfortable enough to where you start to doze off. But a sharp poke to the forehead has you blinking your eyes open and glaring at Theo, who’s hovering over you with an arm braced between you and Keeho.
“What?” You snap.
He raises a brow at you. “Well?”
“Well what?”
“Did we prove you wrong or what?”
You groan as you try to roll away but he drops himself on your chest, effectively trapping you. “Do I really have to say it?”
You feel Keeho’s lips brush against the apple of your cheek, can practically hear the smile in his voice. “It would be nice.”
You sigh deeply. You figure it’s the least you can do, considering the fact that they’d just turned your world upside down. And probably ruined sex with anyone else for the rest of your life.
“Fine,” you huff, trying to come off as gravely inconvenienced but the grin on Theo’s lips has your own smile growing. “Yes, you proved me wrong. Six times over.”
Theo chuckles, breath brushing over your lips as he rests his chin on your chest. “You’re welcome,” he says cheekily and has your eyes rolling fondly.
“So…” Keeho trails off, pulling your eyes to him. He’s trying to smother down his up-to-no-good smile, but failing miserably. “Who was your favourite?” He asks, because of course he would.
You scrunch your nose, pretending to think. “Definitely not Theo,” you settle on, glaring lightly down at Theo’s still smug face. “He’s an asshole.”
Theo pouts dramatically, not even bothering to be actually offended. “Is that any way to treat the guy who just gave you six orgasms?”
“What is wrong with you?”
Jiung, who’s still tucked into your side, bristles at that. “Why are you taking credit for all of it?” Jiung grumbles into your shoulder, refusing to detach from you.
“Again, none of this would have happened without me,” Theo answers like it’s just the simple truth.
You roll your eyes, exasperated. “Okay, then next time we’ll just leave you out of it completely.”
You don’t even get the chance to process your own words before the door to your bedroom is slamming open and Intak, Soul, and Jongseob come crashing down to the floor in a pile of messy limbs, cursing and clawing at each other as they try to untangle themselves.
Intak elbows the other two away and lifts himself up above them, looking up at you with the eyes and eager grin of someone who’s just been told they were nominated for a Grammy. “Next time?”
Jongseob and Soul stop clawing at Intak to look up at you, waiting for your answer with bated breath.
You blink at them, then turn to Theo, who’s looking at you with the same curiosity. Jiung and Keeho’s eyes burn into the sides of your face.
You don’t even have to think twice as you’re dropping your head back on the pillow and smiling up at the ceiling, a deep satisfaction settling in your chest much like the dull, aching one between your legs.
okay to start off….WHAT THE HELLLL OMGGG I knew this fic was gonna be good bc it’s piwon but like holy crap it was amazing in every way. Idk how but even with all the fucking cuteness aggression soul gives in this it was still hot asf during his turn. JIUNG AND THEO??? HELLOO??
PAIRING: Soongyoung x f. reader
SUMMARY: Soonyoung had been in your life for as long as you can remember. You haven’t spoken since your wedding to someone who isn’t him, but when you uncover your husband’s plans to turn against your family, you don’t know who else to call.
WC: 29,988
AU: Mafiaverse, Cyberpunk, Childhood Friends/Exes to Lovers
GENRE: Smut, Heavy Angst
RATING: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.
WARINGS: Full warnings available under the cut.
A/N: This fic was posted on my original blog which has been deleted. I am now reposting it. I hope it does half as well as it did when I originally posted this story - thank you to everyone who left amazing feedback the first time. It genuinely made me so happy and I am so sorry that it got sent to the moon where I can no longer read it.
A/N 2: Thank you @daechwitatamic and @eoieopda for beta-reading this fic.
M. LIST | FULL COLLECTION | ASK | PLAYLIST | THE SYNDICATES INFO GUIDE | READ SOONYOUNG'S POV
Warnings: Graphic violence generally associated with mafia behavior, mentions of murder and blood, morally grey characters, themes of codependency (a little bit), a bit of a toxic relationship with Soonyoung and reader at times (they like to make each other jealous), bar fights, women being very petty, recreational drinking and drug use, heavy angst, depictions of death (funerals for parents), fight scene that ends in death in a domestic situation, difficult relationships with parents, reader and her husband have a terrible relationship and hate each other, depictions of blood and stabbing in one scene (it is the most graphic scene in the whole fic but kept short), reader agonizes over decisions she's made and struggles mentally with a lot of it, depiction of a full blown anxiety attack, sexually explicit content including fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, crying during sex, a lot of making out and biting, multiple orgasms... sorry this is so long, I want to over-warn for everything happening here so if I have missed something you think needs to be warned, please tell me!
KWON SOONYOUNG IS CRYING THE FIRST TIME YOU MEET HIM. It’s a loud, warbling cry that you’re not used to, and you flinch at the pitch as you hide behind your mother. Soonyoung and his mother are standing in the grand foyer of your home, his fists twisted in her tweed skirt as he begs her not to leave him.
His mother sighs heavily, pinching the bridge of her nose. You’ve seen her around before on the arm of her husband at your family dinner parties and for afternoon tea with your mom. This is the first time you’ve seen Soonyoung, though, and you’re unimpressed as his shrieking only gets louder when she crouches down to look him in the eye fondly, brushing the tears from his face.
You don’t know a lot of other kids, but the noisiness of him startles you. Unsettles you. Sensing your unease, your mother reaches to pull you from behind her, giving you a single look that you know means please behave. You straighten immediately, turning to watch the sniffling boy as he calms down.
Soonyoung is round-cheeked, his dark eyes swollen and face reddened from working himself up. His mother murmurs something to him and he nods, wiping the snot from his face with the back of his hand.
Seungcheol must notice the crying has stopped. He appears from the kitchen, giving Soonyoung an unimpressed once over as he strides toward you and your mother. She clucks her tongue at the cheek of her eleven year old, giving him a hard look.
“Seungcheol, don’t be rude,” she admonishes. “Greet our guests properly.”
Your older brother glances at you and you lift a shoulder. He’s going to lead the family one day, it’s important for him to show manners. You know this even at a young age - have always known what his place is among your family, what your place is.
Cheol is in line to become the Tower of the Choi Syndicate, an empire that you cannot fathom at your age but you know is important. You are its insurance, a second heir if something happens to the first and a bargaining chip for future partnerships. A potential logician, if you’re good enough.
Turning to Soonyoung and his mother, Seungcheol bows politely. “It’s nice to meet you, Soonyoung. Are you here to play video games?”
Soonyoung perks up at that, looking at his mom, eyes going round. She grins and nods her head, pulling her hands from where they rest on his shoulders. “He is,” she agrees. “We thought it might be good for you to become friends.” Her gaze drifts to you. “All three of you.”
That makes you frown. You don’t really like playing video games. Seungcheol never lets you win and forces you to play for hours in exchange for him letting you borrow his AetherLink at night to scroll the internet. You’re not allowed to have one yet, even though you’re only four years younger and all of your other friends have them to enter virtual chat rooms and play online games.
“Do I have to?” you ask your mom, looking up at her.
“Yes,” she says firmly, gently nudging you by the shoulder toward where your brother is not so patiently waiting to escort you to the gaming room. “Go.”
“Why don’t you want to play?” Soonyoung asks, pouting a little.
“I’m not any good.”
“That’s okay. I’ll let you beat me.”
Seungcheol moans. “Ugh, don’t let her win. Come on. I got the new Grid Fighters game on the Reality Rift console!”
“No way!”
Seungcheol grins and shoots off toward the gaming room, Soonyoung hot on his heels. You hesitate for a moment, staring after them with indignation. Soonyoung stops at the doorway, turning to you. His face is still ruddy from crying, but he’s suddenly smiling, cheeks round and smooth.
“Come on,” he whispers. “I’ll let you win, I promise.”
-
“Holy fuck, can you let me win for once?” Soonyoung groans, rolling over on the mat. He’s dripping in sweat, wiping it away from his brow as he stands with effort.
Grinning, you skip away from him, reaching for your water bottle. Music pounds through the speakers of the training room. Overhead, the blue neon casts an eerie glow over the two of you. Seungcheol ignores you both in favor of using the weight machines in the far corner of the room.
On the far wall, your health and fitness data is displayed, each one of your bodies outlined and flashing as new data comes in. Right now, you’re in the red zone, heart pounding hard from your bout with Soonyoung, who is in the orange zone.
Which confirms your suspicion that he’s not trying as hard as he could be.
“Maybe if you weren’t afraid to actually hit me,” you offer. The water helps cool you down as you eye Soonyoung. Even at fourteen, he’s started to fill out his form more, arms corded as he hones himself into a weapon. “You’re not going to hurt me.”
Seungcheol scoffs from across the room. Maybe he wasn’t totally ignoring the two of you. He drops his cool-older-kid act to turn and grumble, “He’d put you on your ass, Baby. Lucky for you, he always lets you win.”
The nickname makes you bristle. You hate when people point out that you’re the baby of the family, like you’re something less than or incapable of keeping pace. You especially hate it when Seungcheol uses it to put you in your place, reminding you that one day your shithead older brother is going to be leading the family business.
The family business is the reason you spar with them at all. Occasionally Vernon joins, though those days are as unpredictable as his appearances. Usually when he’s over at your house, it’s never a good thing. His arrivals are always bracketed with the sound of his father’s manic yelling and his mother’s frantic begging, followed closely by slammed doors and your father’s calming voice.
Today it’s just the three of you, though. Soonyoung comes over and sits on the mat by your feet, holding a hand up to you. You pass him your water bottle, rolling your eyes at him even though it doesn’t really bother you.
Nothing Soonyoung does really bothers you. Since that first day he showed up at your house sobbing because his mother was leaving him for the day, he’s grown on you. More than grown on you, in fact. You’re pretty sure he hasn’t noticed your lingering gazes and the way he flusters you when he gets too close, and you hope to keep it that way.
“I don’t want to hit you,” Soonyoung offers gently, voice low over the metal clang of Seuncheol’s weights. “And it’s not ‘cause I don’t think you can’t take it,” he adds with a grin, bumping his shoulder against your leg. “I just don’t like the idea of you getting hurt.”
“Everyone treats me like a baby.”
“You are. But it’s not a bad thing. For example, you say jump and everyone says how high. Even my dad.”
That makes you smirk a little. You look at the floor, letting his words wash over you. They do ring true - there’s no one in the Syndicate who would deny you anything, and though you’re utterly terrified of Soonyoung’s dad, he would do anything for you. In a way, it was the Kwon family’s divine purpose to be by the side of the Chois.
“What about you?” you ask.
“What about me?”
“Jump.”
Soonyoung grins and sets the water bottle down, getting up to his feet at your command. “How high, Baby?”
-
Soonyoung doesn’t shed a tear on the day of his parents’ funeral. He’s a far cry from the little boy who showed up at your house to play video games and become friends.
Instead, he sits in silence, eyes raging - always raging, now. You don’t think the fury stops, his gaze burning the entire ceremony. His grip on your hand is like iron, and after a while, your arm tingles with pins and needles. You say nothing, willing to endure. Eventually, your arm goes numb entirely, and he keeps holding your hand.
Afterward, Soonyoung says nothing. You do the talking for him, accepting the hand shakes and bows on his behalf when he doesn’t reach out to accept them, thanking those who have come to offer him condolences and respect when he doesn’t speak.
His grip on you is steadfast. Iron and fire. Even when your father drops his gaze down with a look of disapproval, Soonyoung doesn’t let go and you don’t ask him to. If there’s any day that you can break decorum and tradition, it’s certainly now in the wake of Soonyoung’s loss.
They don’t need to know you’d let him hold you anyway.
The boy who existed before the murder of his parents is dead. You knew it before the funeral. But when the last guest finally leaves the Choi Estate and Soonyoung doesn’t shed a tear, you realize it isn’t just his parents that you’ve buried.
The sweet, gentle boy who had cried those tears for fear of his mother leaving him has died too. And you don’t think you’ll ever see him again.
-
“You want me to do what?” Soonyoung asks, pulling you into his room and looking out the cracked door to make sure no one else is around. “Where is your brother?”
“I have no idea.”
“You can’t just- ” Soonyoung fumbles for words as he shuts the door and takes a few steps past you into his room proper. It’s dark, safe for the glow of his AetherLink glowing with a paused video game. “Did he see you follow me up here?”
“Why are you being weird? I’m in here all the time. You live here.”
“I’m being weird? You just asked me to kiss you. Neither your brother nor your dad want you in my room in the middle of the night.”
You frown. “Since when? Look, I’m sixteen and I’ve never been kissed, and Lin just lost her virginity to Jeonghan. What happened to when I say jump you say how high?”
“Oh don’t start with me. Who cares if Lin is giving it up to Jeonghan. She blew Wonwoo like two weeks ago. It’s not a competition.”
You cross your arms over your chest, caving in on yourself a little. Maybe it was a stupid idea to ask Soonyoung after all. But you can’t get over the way all of the other girls were clinging to Lin’s every word as she spilled the details of sleeping with Jeonghan. Everyone else in your friends group had at least made out with boys - you had nothing.
Being the daughter of the leader of the Choi Syndicate has its benefits. Being accessible to do things like kissing boys and going out with your friends to new cool clubs like Echo Space and Hyper Vibe were not one of them. Getting any of the boys your age to even look you in the eye was impossible, the fear of catching the wrath of Seungcheol and your father looming over them like the Sword of Damocles.
Soonyoung is Soonyoung, though. Your father has brought him into the fold like one of his own, keeping his oath to Soonyoung’s parents to always watch over him and protect him. You’re old enough now to understand that the bonds between higher members of the Syndicate are bonds of faith and blood, of family and something more.
If anyone shouldn’t be afraid to kiss you, it’s Soonyoung. He lives down the hall from you, and he’s best friends with your brother. It wouldn’t be that weird. At least, that’s what you told yourself as you lay awake in your bed at night while you stared at the ceiling, fingers trailing your lips.
Now, you’re not so sure. The way Soonyoung recoils makes you realize you hadn’t thought of the single most important thing before marching in here and asking him to be your first kiss: maybe Soonyoung didn’t want to kiss you.
It hadn’t even crossed your mind - one of the many downsides to getting mostly everything you wanted. You’re so infrequently told no that in the light of rejection, you don’t know what to do, recoiling like you’ve been mortally wounded.
Nodding your head, you turn away from Soonyoung, throat tightening as the new wave of emotions threatens to spill over. “You’re right, I’m sorry.”
“Baby,” he sighs. You ignore him, bolting for the door. Soonyoung is fast, though. He snatches your arm and drags you back toward him, though you turn your face away from him to hide the evidence of oncoming tears. “Don’t be like that.”
“I’m not being like anything. It was a stupid favor to ask.”
“Would you look at me?”
“No.”
He sighs heavily. “Why are you being so difficult?”
Trying to wrench your arm from his hold is useless. He’s not hurting you, but the grip on your bicep is firm. “Well if I’m so difficult then let me go.”
“Baby.” The frustration in his voice is evident. You ignore the way your nickname rolls off his tongue, the way he’s the only person you don’t absolutely hate the name from.
“Just let me go!”
“No. Why do you want me to kiss you?”
The question is like nails against chalkboard now, your embarrassment peaking. “Forget I even asked, just let me go!”
“Fuck - are you crying?”
“No.”
“Baby, look at me.”
Too afraid that the wavering in your voice will give you away, you shake your head, refusing to turn and face him. With a growl, he gives a sharp tug on your arm, spinning you toward him. You let out a noise of protest, ready to lash out at him again when you feel his mouth on yours.
Startled, you don’t do anything at first. Soonyoung’s grip is still on your bicep, firm and steadfast. Your eyes blink for a second before they flutter closed, unsure exactly what to do beyond lean into him a little, pressing your lips firmer to his.
It’s somehow exactly what you expected and totally unexpected at the same time. Soonyoung’s mouth is softer than you were ready for, slotted gently against yours. He’s warm and smells like vanilla and sandalwood, a scent you’ve grown familiar with. Your thoughts peter out, enjoying the way he holds you to him, your heart pounding wildly in your chest.
When Soonyoung pulls away, you look up at him through half-lidded eyes, your breath shaky. He doesn’t pull back very far, looking down at you with a dark gaze. This close, you can see the real Soonyoung. His expression is soft, eyes sparkling in the blue light of his room. He looks so young suddenly, all of the rage and wrath that lurks under the surface of the calm mask he wears gone for just a moment.
“You have pretty eyes,” you whisper. His mouth twitches at the corner, an almost smile. “I’ve always thought you had beautiful eyes.”
He opens and closes his mouth again, trying to find words. You wait him out, heart thudding. He’s still holding you close to him, fingers digging desperately into your arm.
Footsteps thundering up the stairs wake him from his daze, Seungcheol calling your name. Soonyoung drops his hand and steps away from you, a cool mask of calm sliding into place, the vulnerability gone in an instant. “There’s your kiss,” he murmurs. “Is there anything else you need from me or do I need to jump too?”
-
Synth pulses through you, vibrating your very bones as you lounge on the velvet couch in a private section of the club. The lights above you are hazy, but you can make out the shapes of holographic dancers, their graphics so high definition that you can see the sweat beading down their bare backs.
From the VIP section, you have the perfect view of the DJ platform. Screens flash behind it, holographic wonders of creatures and places and visuals flashing brightly. Writhing bodies twist on the dancefloor around the DJ like a pit of snakes. Among them, you know your father’s Taps slither among the crowd, pushing drugs and psychedelics into the hands of those who can afford it.
A trained eye can spot a Tap well enough. Though they blend in with the nylon and leather of the partiers, they tend to be sharp eyed and lucid, chewing on stim pops or some other substance to keep them awake and alert.
It’s not the drug dealers in the crowd who keep drawing your attention, though. You shouldn’t be able to spot Soonyoung in the mass of bodies so easily, but you do. His hair is bleached, reflecting the flashing lights around him as he presses in close to the girl attached to him, hips swaying.
Your mouth sours. Leaning forward you snatch one of the bottles from the ice bucket and pour a shot into a crystal glass. Angel raises her brows as you slide the glass over to her and pour another for yourself. She’s not much of a drinker, but she takes the glass wordlessly, sensing your need to have a partner in crime.
Knocking it back, you hiss as the liquor burns all the way back. Even the high grade alcohol is like fire, washing away your irritation for a dizzy moment, veins buzzing. Leaning back, your eyes scan the crowd and settle on Soonyoung again. This time, he’s leading his partner through the crowd and toward the stairs. The stairs that lead to you.
Seungcheol and Wonwoo crashing onto the seat next to you breaks your concentration. Seungcheol’s pupils are wide as saucers, eyes trailing upward to dance at the visual of a woman with pink skin sliding out of her top.
Next to him, Wonwoo pulls a small bag with glittering dust from his pocket, shaking it to settle all of the contents at the bottom before unsealing the top. The way the powder glows against the lights tells you its high quality frostbyte, a powerful stimulant named for the biting feeling when inhaled.
Instead of yelling over the music, you gesture toward the bag, catching Wonwoo’s attention. He gives you a surprised look followed by a wolfish grin. Wonwoo loves when you partake in partying harder, a side everyone so rarely sees from you.
Sliding a knife from his pocket, you watch with rapt attention as Wonwoo dips it into the baggie, scooping delicately. You’d rather he cut lines on the table, but you’ll take what you can get, watching as he expertly fishes out a decent sized amount for you to take.
You’re mutely aware that a group of bodies enters your section. Vernon throws himself down next to Angel, jostling you both as you lean over Seungcheol’s half-asleep form toward where Wonwoo extends the knife toward you carefully. You ignore the weight of Soonyoung’s eyes on you as he, Mingyu and a group of girls sit down and reach to fill their glasses with liquor.
Wonwoo’s hands are steady as he holds the tip of his blade out to you, a hand held underneath to catch any powder that slips off the blade. Careful not to lose your balance and stab yourself, you level your face with the knife, inhaling sharply.
Immediately the drug bites the back of your throat, eyes watering as you tilt your head upwards and blink for a second, letting it settle. Sniffing harshly a few times, you clear your nasal passage and blow out a breath, feeling the softest beginning of a tingle as you look at Wonwoo, who is still holding his hands out to you.
“Thanks,” you nod. He grins and pulls back, rubbing the excess powder along his gums as you fall heavily against the back of the booth.
Turning to look at your brother, you elbow him. “Are you alive?”
“Mhmm,” he grunts, eyes closed and arms crossed over his chest. Lights dance across his face, all pinks and blues and purples as he breathes in heavily. “I am fucked right now. Can you get me a stim pop from Hoshi? If I do anymore frostbyte I’m gonna get a nosebleed. Again.”
Actually, asking Soonyoung for anything is the last thing you want to do. However, your brother does look like he needs to wake up, the mess of drugs and alcohol in his system working overtime to put him on his ass. Stim pops are a quick fix, a careful mix of sweet candy and methylphenidate to wake up the nervous system. Soongyoung always has them on his person, especially for when he works late night shifts.
Turning in the booth, you’re smacked with a wave of color. For a moment, you drink it in, tilting your head upward as the figures dancing above explode into a world of lavender butterflies. They’re utterly captivating, your eyes watching them twist and dance in the air as they flutter.
A laugh bubbles from your lips, entirely childlike. Grinning, you watch them for a few moments more before they disintegrate into stars, entire solar systems hovering and floating through the space above your head.
Seungcheol elbowing you breaks you from your concentration. Right. Stim pop. From Soonyoung. Glancing at the man in question makes your stomach plummet. Soonyoung’s head is resting against the back of the booth, the girl next to him draped over him with her mouth pressed hot to his throat, her teeth overly white in the blacklight of the club.
A surge of rage shivers through you, your nails scratching across the green velvet, leaving marks in their wake. Leaning forward, you reach out a hand and smack Vernon’s knee to get his attention. He turns his lazy gaze on you, brows raised. When you point at Soonyoung, he nods and yells over his shoulder to get your target’s attention.
Soonyoung’s eyes flutter open and flick to where you’re sitting. He drinks in your expression before muttering something to the woman mouthing at his neck and peels her off, standing up and shuffling over to you. Angel makes room for him, all but sliding into Vernon’s lap as Soonyoung crashes down on the couch next to you.
“Hi, Baby. What’s up?”
“Cheol needs a stim pop,” you answer curtly, leaning away from him. He smells like vanilla and sandalwood laced with alcohol. Soonyoung is so close you can feel his body heat, his breath fanning across your bare shoulder as he moves to look at Seungcheol half asleep on your other side. “Then you can go back to your little public sex session.”
Soonyoung makes an angry cat noise, narrowing his eyes at you as he smirks. He leans toward you further to reach into his pocket, shoulder pressed against you. His scent fills your nose, heady and familiar. You’re dizzy with it, the touch of his warmth against your skin making you flush.
Suddenly, his nearness is overwhelming. Every hair on the back of your neck stands on end, your skin hypersensitive to the way he leans against you. The glow of the lights is sharper than you remember, and you swear you feel the blood rushing through your body.
A response that could be either because of the drugs you inhaled a moment ago or because Soonyoung is pressed against you and you have the sudden urge to lean into him, to feel his warmth, to press your lips against his and feel their softness.
In an attempt to save yourself from the trap, you shove back at him. He huffs, glaring at you as he fishes a stim pop out of his pocket and hands it over to you. You’re careful to avoid his touch when you snatch it from his nimble fingers, turning your back on him in the booth to look at Seungcheol.
“Why are you being a brat?” His voice is loud over the music, shouted into your ear as he tilts back into your space again. You can feel the warmth of him on your back.
“Go away.”
“Baby, please don’t start with me.”
“I’m not starting fuck with you.”
Seungcheol cracks an eye open to observe your argument with a look of interest. Seungcheol’s pupils are dilated like moons, totally empty of any coherent thought. You peel the wrapper off the stim pop, careful to hold it by the cardboard stick as you pop it into your brother’s mouth.
For a few moments, your brother lolls the candy around his mouth, sucking greedily. Then, he blinks his eyes open, pupils narrowing as he drinks in the lights and the clubs. He sighs in relief, patting your thigh gratefully as the stimulant chases away whatever else is washing him out.
When you turn around, Soonyoung is still lingering, his dark eyes fierce and focused only on you. He looks good tonight. He looks good every night. He has become your picture perfect torture since that night you asked him to be your first kiss, kickstarting something you were incapable of foreseeing.
The bleached hair is new and you hate how much you like it. The silvery strands look just as soft as his natural black, and it’s a nice contrast to his dark eyes and sharp cheekbones. Those stormy eyes are staring at you now, something playful that you don’t like glittering under the surface.
He pouts at you. “Why are you mad at me?”
“I’m not mad at you. Go away!”
“You definitely are. What did I do, hmm? Tell me.”
“Please fuck off.”
He rolls his eyes, peeling himself off the couch and muttering something under his breath. You’re sure he has nothing nice to say, so you sink further into the couch, crossing your hands over your chest as you sulk.
Sticky air clings to your skin. You can feel your heart racing in your chest, the music vibrating your ribcage. Your anger is like a monster given life, fueled by the frostbyte and the feverish anger taking root in your stomach as Soonyoung settles back in his spot, pressing his mouth sloppily to the woman next to him.
And that’s the problem, really. It’s not you that is pressing your mouth to his jaw while he leans against the back of the seat. It isn’t you running manicured nails down the front of his shirts, pulling at buttons despite the audience.
It isn’t you and it should be. You want it to be.
It’s been two years since Soonyoung kissed you for the first time in his room. You’ve had more experience with other people since then, but it dulls in comparison to his simple kiss. You hate it. What you hate even more is how childish it makes you feel, embarrassment heating your cheeks and throat when he catches your gaze across the booth and you divert your attention.
For the second time, Soonyoung peels the girl off of him, making like he’s going to get up and come sit next to you again. This time, his companion keeps him rooted to the spot, her nails digging into his forearm as she hisses something at him. He groans, head tilted back like he’s once again the most inconvenienced man in the room.
Wanting nothing more than to blot him out, you call Wonwoo’s name again, leaning forward heavily for more frostbyte. Soonyoung whistles and snaps his finger in your direction as though to tell you no. You bristle, your anger turning to an inferno, burning up inside of you.
Vernon and Angel both cringe, leaning out of your line of fire as you swivel to angle yourself toward Soonyoung, hands shaking. “Don’t fucking whistle and snap at me! I’m not a dog.”
“Baby, you don’t need more. Your pupils are the size of Mingyu’s big ass head.”
Mingyu, though right next to Soonyoung, doesn’t hear the insult, his tongue being sucked down the throat of the girl sitting in his lap, hips grinding on him. Another girl is pressed to his side, teeth nipping at his jaw. At least someone is having fun, you think, the three of them totally aware of the crackling tension in their booth.
The girl attached to Soonyoung’s neck a moment ago bristles when she hears your nickname. “Baby?” she asks, face scrunching. “Are you serious?”
“Chill out, Victra. It’s her nickname.”
“Yeah,” you agree, shooting her a venomous look, despite her doing nothing to earn your ire. “Chill, Victra.”
Once again, you turn your back on Soonyoung, standing and scooting Seungcheol over to swap places with him. He does so with a keen eye, watching the scene unfold as he sucks his lollipop happily, content to watch the drama.
Wonwoo dips his knife into the bag as you settle in next to him, bouncing with excitement. “I love when you do drugs, you’re so much fun.”
“I don’t feel very fun right now.”
“Drugs will fix it!”
“Wonwoo, don’t you dare give her that,” Soonyoung warns. He pries Victra’s hands off of him, leaning forward as though to reach across the table.
“Ignore him,” you insist.
Wonwoo hesitates, stuck between a rock and a hard place. The last thing he wants to do is tell you no. No one but your father and older brother get to tell you no. Wonwoo knows this better than most people. But he also doesn’t want to cross Soonyoung, a venture nearly as dangerous as pissing off Seungcheol.
Soonyoung hisses at the girl next to him, “Stop clawing at me! Baby, please stop being stubborn for one moment. Just one. ”
“Why the fuck did you even bring me up here?” Victra interrupts, ignoring Soonyoung’s plea. “You’ve done nothing but fawn over her since we got here. This isn’t fun.”
Soonyoung ignores her. “If you’re mad at me, be mad at me. Stop blowing shit up your nose to prove a point and be a bitch, though.”
“I’m not proving fuck, Soonyoung. And Victra’s right, go fuck her in the bathroom or something and stop telling me what to do.”
“So it is about her?”
“I have a name!” The her in question snaps. You turn around, temper flaring as you level your glare at her. She turns her nose up at you as she says, “It’s obvious you’re bothered he brought me here. Your jealousy is insufferable.”
“Ding, ding ding,” Seungcheol imitates a bell. You turn around to look at Victra. “Round one! Fight!”
It takes a second for Victra’s words to land. It’s like each one hits you a second apart, packing their own punch as you register them. The pulsing music around you fades to a dull roar as you stare at her, seeing the way her lips twitch upward as she realizes she’s right. You are jealous that Soonyoung brought her up here.
Victra’s grin is all it takes for you to spill over. Before you can register what you’re doing, you’re out of your seat and leaping over the table at her, knocking over glasses and bottles. Wonwoo cheers in delight behind you as your brother catches you by the waist, trying to keep you on your side of the booth as you tear at his hands to get across the booth.
Seeing the attack of opportunity while you’re subdued, Victra shoots to her feet. Angel is fast as an adder, one moment sitting in Vernon’s lap and the next striking Victra down into the booth, knee planted in her stomach. Vernon does nothing to stop his girlfriend, opting instead to reach for a water bottle, unscrewing it to take a sip as his girlfriend pins Victra down to the seat with little effort.
Noticing for the first time that their friend is in distress, the two women with Mingyu lift their heads. As soon as one starts to slide from his lap to reach for Angel, you kick a foot out, striking the bucket of alcohol and ice. The bucket goes flying at her, hitting her hard in the face. She screams, crumbling in Mingyu’s lap, cradling her face.
Mingyu and Soonyoung are on their feet in seconds, soaked from the waist down and trying to gain control of the situation as it spirals. Mingyu becomes a blockade between Victra’s two friends, trying to keep them on their side of the booth. Soonyoung is prying a bottle from a hand before it can make its way toward you, yelling something indecipherable.
Angel is still pressing her knee deep into Victra’s gut. Victra’s attention has diverted from you entirely as she screams like a wounded animal, pushing and scratching at Angel’s knee to try and get her off. You’re sure it hurts, but Angel doesn’t budge, sinking her weight into it.
Leaning down, you grab something to lob at them - someone’s shoe - but Seungcheol manages to haul you off your feet and spin you, planting you into the booth behind him. You growl, shoving at his legs to move him out of the way, trying to re-engage.
“Fucking hell,” he grunts. “Are you fucking juicing? Why are you so strong?”
“It’s the drugs,” Wonwoo offers unhelpfully. “Really top of the line drugs.”
“Shut up, Wonwoo!” Both you and Seungcheol bark at the same time.
Wonwoo holds up his hands, leaning back into the seat as he watches the mess unfold with a delighted grin. You strike out with your foot, slamming against the booth’s table, shoving it in Soonyoung’s direction. You hear glass shatter as more things fall off the table, clattering to the ground. There are shrieks and curses that you can’t see with Seungcheol blocking the way.
“He’s a fucking asshole!” You seethe to your brother, panting with rage.
“He is, and you did exactly what he wanted you to do.” You try to kick the table again but he stops you, grabbing your knee. You feel like you can’t get enough air, sweat slicking your skin and the velvet of the couch too sharp against your flesh. “Soonyoung loves a fight when he’s fucked up. You know that.”
“Well fuck him!”
He pulls the stick from his mouth, candied stim gone. He tosses it onto the floor and looks over his shoulder where Mingyu and Soonyoung are corralling the three women out of the booth. “God, Angel broke that girl's rib I think. Hahahha!”
“I want to break her fucking face!”
“I think you broke her friend's face. She is fucked up. That bucket hit her right in the eye. What a shot.”
“If you’re so entertained, why’d you get in my way?”
“There’s a lot of eyes here.” You glance around, noticing other booths looking at you, people ducking toward one another to whisper. “You have an image to maintain.”
Adjusting your shirt, you settle back into the booth. “Alright. Alright I’m good.”
When Seungcheol moves out of the way to take a seat, Soonyoung replaces him. You glare up at him, feeling your anger curl up in you again. His lips twitch, a hint of a smirk as he sits down next to you, sighing heavily and tilting his head to look up at the flashing lights.
The girls are nowhere to be found. Angel is sitting back down next to Vernon who hasn’t moved, and there are servers picking up the mess you made. Mingyu is notably absent, though you can guess where he’s gone for the night. He’s good at making scorned lovers feel better about their bad luck.
“Jealousy is crazy on you,” Soonyoung notes, tonguing the inside of his cheek as he glances at you sidelong. “I kind of like it.”
“Don’t ever do that to me again,” you warn. He laughs, the fight totally leaving him. “I’m serious. Don’t ever do that to me again, Soonyoung. Not to me.”
“Alright, alright. When you say jump, right?”
Soonyoung’s fingers brush against yours. Just the rough feeling of his calluses against the tips of your fingers has you shivering, anger replaced with want. He doesn’t take your hand, doesn’t move to do anything else but lean back in silence with your fingers touching.
Resigned, you say nothing else to him. You’d got what you wanted - sort of - even if you know you made an ass out of yourself doing it. It isn’t the first time he’s made you jealous, but it is the first time it’s boiled over so violently.
You remind yourself not to do frostbyte when you’re mad anymore.
You turn your attention to where Angel is snorting frostbyte up her nose off of her boyfriend’s phone, accidentally turning on the hologram as she does, her face suddenly caged by green screen data. You call her name gently. She looks up at you, pupils blown, reflecting the lights dancing above like dark glass. “Thanks,” you offer.
Her grin is too wide, teeth too white. She reminds you of a demon more than she does an angel. “Anytime.”
When you settle back in, you glance at Soonyoung once. He looks down at you, smirking a single time before he leans into you and rests his head on your shoulder. You feel him melt into you, sighing as his eyes close and he nuzzles a little closer. You put your hand on his thigh, squeezing once before you leave it there, feeling the heat of his skin through his pants.
It isn’t until he’s almost asleep, pressed as close as possible to you that you realize maybe he got what he wanted too.
-
Rain washes over the black city, the mist turning the thousands of digital and holographic advertisements into a watercolor smear of neon. It smells wet and like rot, the drains overworked and belching water and trash back out into the street as you walk, feet splashing.
You quickly duck out of the way of a group of rowdy men spilling from a bar. You can smell the drink on them, their feet sloshing in the rising water of the street as they dredge toward the next bar. They whistle at the pretty girls dressed in light up raincoats and flickering green contacts, stumbling toward a brothel instead of the bar.
Gripping your umbrella tighter, you quicken your steps. Grease smoke drifts toward you from various hawker carts, the sizzle of meat making your stomach growl. You ignore them, knowing you have dinner with your family later as you take a corner and plunge into the darkness of an underground stairwell.
The LEDs on your umbrella cast a pink light as you descend the stairs, careful not to slip on the caked grime. Two guards stand outside metal double doors, music pulsing faintly behind it. They look you up and down, ready to deny entry until you state your name at the bottom of the steps.
“ID?” the one on the right asks, giving you a critical eye.
Of course he doesn't believe you. The daughter of the Tower would never walk anywhere without a body guard, especially in this part of the city. You spin the umbrella, the pink coalescing as he takes the phone from your hand and taps it, blue lighting up his face when your ID and profile appear in holographic data above the screen.
He clears his throat and bows at the waist. When his counterpart doesn’t, he smacks him hard on the back, making the man lean over. “Apologies, Miss Choi. Right this way.”
Music hits you full on when the doors open, the base creating static in the air. You cringe as it vibrates through your ribcage and teeth, wondering how anyone could stand to be in a club this loud. Popping the umbrella shut, you let your eyes adjust while one security guard remains at the door, shutting it behind you, and the other hands you your ID.
“Should I escort you to the office, Miss?”
Writhing bodies dance together, scintillating like snakes in a pit. Above them, lasers and holograms light up the world with flashes of colors you didn’t even know existed. A wide bar stretches to the left of the floor, lit up by soft cyan lights. Behind it, the bartenders move in a blur, the glow on their clothes turning them ethereal.
You glance at the security guard, who waits patiently before shaking your head. You point to the space above the bar where there are two large, mirrored windows looking out into the club. “Up there?”
“Yes,” he answers, hesitating. “Let me escort you.”
With a roll of your eyes you nod, gesturing to him to lead the way. He clears a path, clubbers and workers alike moving out of his way when he shoves them. You walk behind him, swinging your head from side-to-side as you look at the people, fascinated.
People with spikes pierced in their skin and whorling tattoos with glow ink stare back at you, glowing contact lenses and gemmed teeth all taking you in. You rarely get to mix in with the crowd that partakes in more unique cosmetic alterations and fashion, fascinated by someone who walks by with red glowing face tattoos like a demon mask.
At the foot of the stairs, the guard lets you walk up first. It’s clear of people, so he remains standing at the bottom, taking up an imposing position with his hands linked in front of him, blocking the stairway entirely.
The thud of music vibrates through your boots as you climb the stairs, greeting another security guard. You can tell he’s already been warned you’re here - he bows immediately and keys in the pad at the door, opening the office for you.
You pass by him airily, stepping into the dry and much cooler office. The door closes behind you, immediately cutting off the sound with high–tech sound proofing. Soonyoung is leaning against the bar, his back to the door as he watches out the windows, a glass in his hand.
“What in the fuck are you doing?” he asks, tossing you a look over his shoulder. You grin, skipping over to him. He doesn’t grin back, looking you up and down as you join him. You reach for the decanter he’s drinking from but he smacks your hand, viper fast. “Not a chance.”
“What? Why not?”
“You shouldn’t be here, much less without a security team. The Tower will be livid.”
“The Tower doesn’t have to know.”
Soonyoung’s jaw flexes. “The security team will tell him you were here.”
“Not if you tell them not to.”
“Baby,” he sighs, tilting his head up and closing his eyes. You lean against the bar, watching him. The lights from the club are dimmer in here, but they flash against his face, painting him in golden light. He’s beautiful. “What are you doing here?”
“Angel said you had a bad day.”
“I always have a bad day. And tell Angel to shut her mouth.”
You snort. “You tell her that.”
That gets a grin out of him. He lowers his head, dark gaze finding yours. “You can’t just walk around the Lower City without a personal guard, Baby.”
“I’m not helpless.”
“I know you’re not. I’m not either but people try to rob me all the time. You, on the other hand, are a lot prettier of a prize than I am.”
“So you think I’m pretty?”
This time when Soonyoung sighs, it’s affectionate. He sips his glass of amber liquid, turning to watch the crowd outside the office. He holds out his glass to you, a concession. You grin further, accepting it from him and bring it up to your nose to smell. You don’t know anything about liquor, but from the spiced scent you can tell it’s good quality.
You take a tiny sip. It goes down smooth - strong, but good and warm. Instead of giving him the glass back, you cradle it to your chest, leaning against the bar next to him close enough that your arms are almost touching. He continues looking out at the crowd, keen eyes serious and back to work while you look at him.
Soonyoung is beautiful. His side profile is lethal, the slope of his neck elegant, the curve of his jaw sharp but delicate, his high cheekbones catching the light. His eyes are dark pools, reflecting the snatches of light that come through the dark windows.
“Did you come here to stare at me?” he asks, never taking his eyes off the crowd.
“What if I said I did?”
His mouth twitches at the corner. “Unfortunately I would believe you.”
Watching over clubs isn’t usually Soonyoung’s job. But this club is in a terrible part of the city and isn’t worth much to the Choi Syndicate, so sometimes he’s awarded the opportunity to prove himself to your father and to the elders of the Syndicate that he’s competent and capable of leadership, despite the fact you’ve always known him to be.
Soonyoung isn’t meant for leading like Seungcheol. But there is a certain level of loyalty and understanding he has to cultivate with the heavies of the family, the Swords who carry out the bloody tasks of removing people from the way and keeping assets safe. His father had been the Sentinel of your family for years until his death, and Soonyoung is expected to pick up that mantle.
This is all a part of that. Soonyoung already has the loyalty of the security team running this hole in the wall, alerting him the second you arrived and refusing to let you go up the stairs alone. Had they failed to do that, you might think a little less of them.
Soonyoung also probably would have had them beaten.
Finally, Soonyoung turns to look at you. He sighs and raises his brows expectantly.
“What?” you ask.
“What did you come here for? Real answer, this time.”
“I told you. Angel said you had a bad day. That is my real answer.”
“And?”
You shrug, sipping from the glass and turning toward the windows. “I wanted to make it a better one.”
That makes him go silent. You can see him turn to look at you, his stormy gaze pinning you to the spot. You don’t look at him, letting him stare as you nurse the drink and watch the dancing crowd down below. They’re beautiful, in a way, an ocean of bodies saying as colors turn them blue and then green and then bright red and then lavender.
Soonyoung leans toward you, bumping his head on yours lightly. That gets a laugh out of you, stomach fluttering and wishing he would stay leaned against you. He pulls away though, crossing his arms over his chest and turning his eyes back to his job.
“Thank you,” he finally says, voice quiet. “It is already a better day.”
The silence is comfortable. You eventually give him the drink back and he takes it, tongue darting out to lick the lip gloss you left. He hums. “Cherries.”
“You’re gross.”
He smiles into the glass, taking a sip. “I actually have something for you.”
“A present?”
He snorts. “Not exactly. Go to the desk - top drawer on the right.”
Eagerly, you do as he says. The heavy wooden desk sits in the back of the room, imposing even without the metal lockers behind it with weapons. You ignore the heavy guns under padlocks and go for the drawer in question.
A rectangular box is in the drawer Soonyoung specified, unmarked. You turn it over in your hands, curious. It’s not very heavy and fits mostly in your palm.
“Bring it over here.”
You do, trailing back to Soonyoung. He extends his hand and you pass it over to him, watching with interest as he cracks the box open with the sheer strength of his fingers. He pulls out a small device, a wire and what looks to be a plug, tossing the box to the bar.
“Do you know what this is?” he asks, holding up the device.
It’s a small rectangle with a keypad and a screen. You raise your brows in surprise. “It is a very old phone.”
“It is.” He smiles, pleased with your answer. He passes the materials over to you and you hold them against your chest. “That’s the charger and the charging cord. It’s one of the old kinds of phones that requires a phone tower. There are barely any in the city.”
“And what is this gift for?”
“I own the phone towers that support it.” You raise your brows. Soonyoung rarely spends the inheritance his parents left behind, so you’re surprised. “It only has a single phone number programmed into it that will call the one I have.”
At this, he reaches into his pocket and produces the phone’s twin. He shakes it for emphasis, pressing a button and lighting up the screen. “You have to make sure to keep it charged. I want you to have it for emergencies only. And I mean emergencies, Baby. This is a last resort kind of device, alright?”
You chew your bottom lip, dragging your eyes to look up at him. “Why?”
“Because I need to know that you always have a last resort.” His gaze darkens. “Clearly your assigned security team lets you give them the slip. I need to know that you can hit the dial on this faster than you can on our phones. They’re overly complicated and not quick. With this?”
He reaches over and turns on the phone in your hand. Once booted, he presses the one button. The device in his hand starts ringing. “Direct and fast access to me at all times. Do it even if you can’t tell me where you are. I’ll find you.”
Emotion twists your throat. You grip the phone with a vice grip, looking up at him with wide eyes. His face is serious. He slips his phone in his pocket, turning back to do his job. “I will answer,” he promises. “It doesn’t matter when and where. I will answer that phone even if I’m dying. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
He nods. “Good.”
-
A knock on your door wakes you up from a dreamless sleep. Darkness spills across your room like ink as you slip from your bed, cursing when you kick the corner of your nightstand. With a raspy voice, you ask the automated room assistant to turn on the nightlights, a hazy purple immediately lighting the circumference of your room.
Squinting against the lavender glow, you pad over your room to open the door. Soonyoung is leaning heavily against the wall just beyond the threshold, his chin tucked to his chest and his hair sweaty and clinging to his temples.
He doesn’t move when you open the door, the lilac light casting an eerie radiance on the side of his face. It’s hard to make out his expression in the lurking shadow of the hallway, and he offers no explanation for why he’s knocking on your door at three in the morning.
“Soonyoung?” you whisper, eyes darting down the hall. No one else is around. “Where are Cheol and Vernon?”
“S’cheol is still working. Vernon went to stay at Angel’s.”
“Are you - Soonyoung are you drunk? Or high?”
“Yeah.”
Both you realize. You can deal with both.
Grabbing him by the hand, you tug him gently. He pushes off the wall with heavy steps, stumbling through your open door and into the room. You grip him tighter, shutting your door with a gentle click before turning around to face him.
Soonyoung won’t look at you, turning his face away as he sways a little where he stands. Now that you can see him fully, you realize that there is blood on the collar of his shirt. Heart thudding, your hands reach for it, peeling it back to look at his neck. Specs of dry crimson flake from sweaty skin, making your terror reach new heights.
He shrugs you off. “Not mine.”
“I - what’s going on?”
Instead of answering you, he walks a few crooked steps toward your bed and sits down on the edge. Licking your lips, you approach him slowly. He’s slouched over, elbows pressed to his knees as his head hangs heavily. He still hasn’t looked at you properly and you’re aching to see his eyes. You can always understand him better when you see his eyes, able to read the depth of emotions hiding beneath his mask.
When you reach him, you crouch down. Instead of grabbing for him again and risking him pulling away, you rest your hands on top of your knees. When afraid or upset, Soonyoung is like a cornered animal. You don’t know whether he’s in fight or flight, both just as dangerous as the next.
“Soonyoung,” you say again gently. You watch his every move. “You’re scaring me. Do you need me to call Cheol or Vernon?”
If Seungcheol is working the circuit, he isn’t the best to call. Late night circuits include going from club to club under the Choi banner to monitor the drug trafficking and attend small business meetings as appropriate. Seungcheol will drop whatever he’s doing for you in a heartbeat, but it’s more complicated than that.
In theory, Vernon is easier to get a hold of. He’s already off work and though he might not answer his phone if you call, you know his girlfriend will. Plus, the blood on Soonyoung’s shirt and skin can give you a guess at what’s happened, and Vernon is more equipped for that type of thing than you are.
“Let me call Vernon-”
“No,” he finally says. “No. Sorry. I just.”
Your chest squeezes in pain. It’s like you can feel the torture radiating through him, feel the weight of whatever it is that’s dragging him down yourself. Desperation drives you to reach out toward him slowly, watching for any sign of startling him. When he doesn’t move to pull away, you touch him gently, squeezing his knee gently. “What do you need?”
“My dad always said I should feel something.” His words are halting, coming out slurred. You wait, holding your breath as he works through them. “Always said that you should feel something when you kill someone. If you don’t, it means you’re nothing more than a beast with base instincts. Not intelligent or refined.”
It takes everything in you not to let your grip turn to steel at his words. Instead, you rub your hand up and down his thigh soothingly, saying nothing. Soonyoung has never killed someone before. You would know if he had. He’s the last in your immediate circle of friends beside yourself to take on the weight of stealing life, and you’ve dreaded this day for a long time.
Murder is an inevitability in your family. Keeping the Choi Syndicate on top requires sacrifice, cruelty and cunning. Soonyoung had started serving as an officially ranked member of the Syndicate over a year ago, and though he had fucked up a lot of people and brought them to the brink of death, he hadn’t actually done it yet.
“I felt nothing,” he whispers, voice thick. “Fucking nothing.”
“What do you mean?”
“There was no guilt. I didn’t even flinch. It was so easy, like fucking breathing. That’s not what my dad wanted me to be. He always said that those who felt nothing were just… baser creatures. That we were better because we were… made better.”
“I think your dad wanted a lot of things. You being alive was the most important of those things, Soonyoung.”
“I’m just tired of feeling fucking empty. I don’t give a shit that I killed someone, Baby. Honestly? I was fucking looking forward to it. I thought maybe - just maybe - I would feel something, even if it was guilt or horror or satisfaction. There was nothing.”
You have no idea what to say. Instead of words, you surge forward, letting go of Soonyoung’s knee to push yourself between his thighs, wrapping your arms around his middle. He flinches for a moment, arms hanging dead at his side as you press your cheek to his chest, squeezing.
Inside, you feel your heart crack open. You shove down the overwhelming sense of despair on his behalf, instead focused on him. There’s nothing to say with words, and you hope he can feel what you’re trying to tell him through touch, that he can feel everything you don’t know how to say as you hold him tight, clinging to him.
Slowly, his arms encircle you. It takes him a moment, but he applies a little pressure back. It makes you scoot in more, pressed as close as you can get to him. He buries his face in your neck, his breaths warm and smelling like tequila. He smells like him too, vanilla and sandalwood.
“I don’t feel like a person sometimes,” he whispers. “It’s like the ability for me to feel anything died forever ago. Like I killed it so that I didn’t ever have to hurt again. Now I only ever feel when-”
He cuts himself off and sinks into you a little more. You bear his weight, willing to carry any burden for him. You don’t think he realizes that he could ask you to jump and you’d say how high. You’ve always been willing to jump for him, always willing to do whatever he wants, whatever he needs.
Gently, you ask, “You only ever feel when what? You can tell me if you want. Whatever you need.”
“I feel when I’m with you.” Soonyoung whispers it like it’s a secret he doesn’t want you to hear. You feel the words hit your skin where he speaks them, a shiver slithering through you. His grip on you tightens a little with the admission, like now that he’s said it, he can’t let go. Won’t. “I feel most like a person when I’m with you.”
Pressing the flat of your hand to his back, you begin to stroke up and down slowly, touch following the careful ridges of his spine. He sighs, shivering in your hold. You want nothing more than to take the pain or whatever he’s feeling away, to rip it from him and to destroy it.
The fierceness of your love for him is hard to tamp down. A fiery admission of your feelings for him isn’t what he needs right now. You know Soonyoung like the inside of your own soul, everything that makes him tick, every habit he’s picked up over the years. You can sense him standing lost at sea, needing an anchor. Needing you.
“Okay,” you say softly. “So stay with me. Be a person with me.”
“I’m not made for you.”
“Yes you are.” Your nails dig into his back through his shirt, pressing sharply. The desire to covet him is so intense it overtakes you. “If I make you a person, then how could we be made for anyone but one another?”
Silence greets your logic. You stay holding him like that, desperate to keep him there, terrified he’ll shrug you off and get up. He’s done it before, shucking off your affection like something to be disposed of. And still you give it to him freely, begging him to take it.
He doesn’t shy away from you. Instead you feel him nod, mouth brushing tenderly across your throat in the ghost of a kiss. “If I stay right now, you will never get me to leave. Do you understand? I won’t… I will be incapable of ever letting you go. Ever. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
You hug him tighter. “Try to leave me at your own peril, Kwon Soonyoung.”
-
“Where’s your other half?” the voice causes you to turn from where you lean against the bar. Angel slides up next to you, cocking her head as she does. She looks like a wraith, dressed in a rain slicker over black long-sleeved shirt that’s tucked into black pants. Her jacket and combat boots are wet, suggesting it’s still raining outside. “You’re usually attached at the hip. My therapist calls that codependency. Says Hansol and I have it too.”
“Does your therapist also know you’re a murderer?” you mutter. The bartender slides drinks over to you and you nod in thanks. “Or that you’re only seeing her because Jeonghan made a bet with you? Or that your job often involves extortion? What does she think about that?”
As a Rook of the Choi Syndicate, Angel’s job is a far cry from the holy nickname she’s sported since she was a child. Like Vernon, her role within your father’s empire is to collect debts owed to the Choi family and to remind them never to fall behind on payments. Other times, she’s simply used as a good tool to put the fear of god into enemies of the Choi family, and she’s good at it.
Raised under the careful tutelage of the Yoon family, there’s no weakness Angel can’t find and use. The only one better at it than her is her step brother, who is probably sitting next to your brother behind closed doors somewhere in the Choi Estate holding a meeting.
As Seungcheol’s future second in command, it’s Jeonghan’s responsibility to learn the ropes just like your brother. One day, it’ll be the two of them leading your family, a thought that makes you cringe with worry.
Angel answers your question with a shrug. “I’m sure she knows I’m into some shit. I’m learning all kinds of new things about myself.”
“Oh yeah? Like what?”
“I don’t like therapy. And I kind of want to ask my therapist why she thinks she’s qualified for therapy when she’s fucking three of her clients.”
A snort escapes you as you shake your head. Of course Angel knows that about her own therapist. Lifting the two drinks on the bar, you drift away from her, eyes flicking over the Rook. “Stay out of trouble, Angel. And give Vernon my love.”
She grins, wicked sharp and deadly. “No bar fights, hmm? Enjoy the party.”
The party in question is exhausting. You’ve been playing pretty princess all night, saying hello to all of the right people, shaking all of the jeweled hands, kissing all of the right asses. You’re exhausted and the tension in your shoulder has been knotting further and further.
Once upon a time you would have been thankful to at least not be Seungcheol. He shouldered a lot more responsibility. Now you’ve realized that you don’t shoulder less than him - it’s just different. If Seungcheol is the sword and shield of the Syndicate, you’re the face and smile. Galas, charities, celebrity events - it’s a never ending stream of smile, pose, shake hands.
It doesn’t hide the fact that you sit on a throne that belongs to a criminal empire, of course. But it’s also no secret that the Three Syndicates run the city. Your family has long been one of the stalwart backbones of the government and city infrastructure. Only the Kim family and the Yong family come close.
Still, appearances are everything. Especially when the Yong family owns most of the media outlets, weaponizing it against the Choi Syndicate every chance they get. You make it harder for them, using your appearances and platforms like a carefully wielded sword.
Spotting Soonyoung among those dressed in dark security uniforms is easy. He nearly blends in with the dark pipe and drape that has been set up all over the ballroom of your home, but you could find him anywhere, your internal compass pointing to him even in the dark.
Soonyoung’s eyes alight on you, sharp and intense. His face is a cool mask of indifference, but you can see the way interest sparks in his eyes as he drinks you in. He’s already seen you in your dress tonight, but it doesn’t stop him from refamiliarizing himself, eyes tracing every dip and curve.
God you wish you were somewhere else with him. Specifically wrapped in the gray sheets of his bed, sweat-slicked and out of breath.
“Stop looking at me like that,” you say shyly, handing him a drink.
He takes it and looks up at you, arching a brow. “I can’t drink this, I’m working.”
“It’s just soda with lime, the way you like it.”
His lips twitch in a smile as he takes a sip, nodding in confirmation. He doesn’t reach out to you and hold you close like you know he wants to, respecting the propriety of his position and the fact that he is on the clock right now.
“You look tired,” he murmurs, eyes studying your face.
So does he. As an official Sword of the Choi family, his job keeps him out late, bloodied, and tired. He’s completely changed from the man who sank into your arms that first night he killed someone, hardened into someone that your father sends to do just that often.
A weapon. A Sword. A trusted knife in the dark for the Choi family.
You think Soonyoung is more capable than being a heavy for your dad and his associates. Soonyoung is intelligent and sharp, having gained perspective and a wealth of knowledge from living with your family. Still, his dad had been the leader of the hired guns for the Choi Syndicate. Soonyoung is an efficient killer, his fate bound by his father long ago.
“When are you off tonight?” you ask instead of telling him how tired he looks.
“I’m not.” You frown. He sips his drink again and gives you a soft smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “It’s been busy. The Yong family are getting in our way at the docks. I gotta head down there with Vernon and Jeonghan after the party.”
“The Yongs are doing it outright?”
“No. We’re pretty confident it’s them though. Jeonghan is working on it. If we can bring the Xu family under our wing, it would be a lot easier to push them out.”
“They have a son,” you note, thinking about the last event you attended where the Xu heir was in attendance. “Maybe marriage to one of our big hitters? Nexus Capital has an heiress.”
“I’ll mention it to Jeonghan. Who the fuck would want an arranged marriage, though?”
“Not me,” you laugh, wiping the eyelash you spot on his cheek gently. He gives you a tired, albeit affectionate smile. “You’ve been working nonstop. Tell Seungcheol you need a night off.”
“We both know it’s not Seungcheol working me to the bone, Baby.”
Swallowing thickly, you turn away from him under the guise of scanning the crowd. You know you don’t fool him. Both you and Soongyoung know your father does not approve of your relationship, taking it out on Soonyoung to keep him busy and away from you.
Your father would never hurt Soonyoung directly. You know that. He loves him like a son - sees his late best friend in the features of the man that Soonyoung has been shaped into under his care and tutelage. When you started dating Soonyoung seriously, you thought your parents might be happy. They adore him and they loved his parents just as much.
Soonyoung is below your station, though.
Your father will never say it outright. He wouldn’t insult his late friend’s son that way. But the way your father works Soonyoung harder than anyone else, holding him to a standard he doesn’t even keep for his highest level of men, you realize how deep the dissatisfaction goes. Even your mother’s adoration of Soonyoung does little to shield him from the petty assignments, try as she might.
Still, you don’t care. And at the end of the day, neither does Soonyoung. As long as he gets to have you, he’s willing to put up with the petty assignments and the working late.
“Hey,” Soonyoung says gently, bringing your attention back to him. He finishes his drink and sets it on a banquet table nearby. His eyes are averted, looking somewhere across the room as his hand slips around your waist to squeeze you quickly and press a kiss to your temple. “I’ve got to go - I’ve got a meeting with Vernon before we head out tonight. I’ll see you when I’m done. Probably won’t be until late morning.”
“Alright,” You sigh. His hand slips from your waist and you wish you could pull him back to you. “Love you.”
He grins brightly, giving you a wink before he melts into the crowd, weaving around party goers. Your heart squeezes when you lose sight of him.
Someone clearing their throat catches your attention. You spin around to see Lan, one of your father’s personal Swords nodding politely at you. “Your father wishes to see you in the West Parlor. I’m to escort you.”
“Oh. Sure.” You set your drink down on the banquet table, wiping your damp hands on your dress. “Lead the way.”
People bow their heads in respect as you go. You keep an even pace with Lan, which is hard to do with his long strides and your strappy heels digging into your ankles. He slows for your benefit and you give him a grateful smile, the swelling noise from the party leaving you behind as you step out of the ballroom and walk toward the west wing of the house.
Some people mill about the halls of the estate. You can spot the members of the Syndicate who are on duty, mostly Swords that belong to the security force employed under the Choi family. You spot Chan leaning against a wall while gesturing broadly with his hands as he speaks to the owner of a new club on the edge of the Pearl District. When he catches your stare, Chan winks before focusing his attention back on the owner. Probably trying to work out some sort of deal or partnership, as is his job.
The west wing of the house is quiet and off limits to the rest of the party. Your bedroom is just up two flights of stairs, your bed calling your name as you pass under the stairwell into the hallway that belongs to the West Parlor, the library, the study and your father’s billiards room.
Old Man Vero is standing outside your fathers study, his hands linked in front of him and his head straight forward. He glances your way as Lan leans you toward the door, cracking a bit of a smile on his leathery face and giving you a wink. You grin, lightly reaching out and touching his elbow as Lan opens the door for you. Your father’s Swords have been in your life since you were a child, permanent figures of fixed loyalty and familiarity.
They love you like they love your father, like they love your brother. It isn’t pure fear and power that keeps the Choi Syndicate together. Your father has plenty of that among the ranks, but the loyalty and love between him and his higher ranking members is real. Critical. It was a skill he taught you and Seungcheol, both of you arming yourself with your own shield of friends and confidants.
Your father sits in a leather armchair, leaned back with his eyes closed. Next to him, a cigar smokes in the ashtray, threatening to go out as the thin wisps of smoke vanish into the air. An old fashioned record player echoes in the far corner of the room, smoothe notes vibrating through the air.
“Tower,” you greet him formally, bowing at the waist. “How can I be of service to the family?”
His eyes flutter open and he looks at you tiredly. He looks so much like your brother that it’s uncanny, sometimes. But his youth has worn off, his age more and more evident these days as he spreads himself thin expanding the Choi empire. Your mother has asked him - begged him - to give more responsibility to Seungcheol, but he refuses.
At least you know where your stubborn streak comes from.
“So formal,” he notes, his lips twitching upward. He gestured for you to sit in one of the arm chairs. You do, smoothing your dress carefully as you sit. Behind you, Lan exits the room, the soft click of the door behind you. “You were always a better student than your brother.”
“That’s because he’s a man.”
A hearty laugh makes you grin, feeling a flutter of fondness. He was never an overly affectionate father, but he’s always been kind, though firm. You respect him, which is saying something in your world.
“Spoken like an intelligent woman,” he sighs. You wait patiently, watching as he seems to gather his words. Your stomach knots, sensing a trepidation about him that you’re not used to. “Your intelligence has always been your best asset, though you’re a little hot-headed like your brother.”
“Steadfast is the mountain,” you say, quoting the Choi family motto.
He grins and adds your mother’s family moniker, “But the fire does burn. I knew marrying your mother was a good choice. Marrying the right person is paramount in this life. Family unions can make or break an empire, and they forge old alliances anew or secure new alliances.”
A prickle down your spine makes you sit straighter. You had implied as much earlier to Soonyoung about the Xu family, knowing marriage was a viable option to bring the shipping mogul into the Choi empire. Now, though, the notion has you on edge, watching him like a frightened cat.
“I didn’t pick your mother, you know,” he muses, his eyes unfocusing somewhere far away. “But when my father recommended her, I knew he was right. I was familiar with her, of course. We went to school together. Fought like cats, but she was so intelligent and fierce.”
You’ve heard this story before. Your father hadn’t loved her to start, but your mother had loved him right away. Had always known that she loved him. She’d shown up at one of his billiard nights and told him exactly how she felt, asserting that they would be married and that he would be loyal to her.
He’d fallen in love with her that night.
He sighs heavily. “I see a lot of your mother in you.”
“Don’t let her hear you sound so disappointed. She might be offended.”
“She’s better than me,” he says. His eyes focus on you, flicking back to appraise you. Sweat slicks on your back and only years of training keep you from not fidgeting under his weighty gaze. “But it would be easier sometimes if you were more like me. Less fire, more mountain. Still, you are rational, so let us speak plainly: you are going to marry the Kim family heir.”
Silence hangs in the air. You stare at him, your brain taking a moment to catch up with his words. It’s like you’re moving in slow motion, processing the firmness in his voice, the way he looks at you with heavy countenance.
You are going to marry the Kim family heir.
A high-pitched ringing starts in your ears and you feel the buzz of panic start to tingle at the base of your spine. Your fingers dig into the arms of your chair a little, trying to fight the staccato rhythm of your heart from getting out of control.
“What?” you ask. It feels dumb, compared to the eloquence you’re capable of.
“Kim Yijun is a perfect match,” he says simply. “He’s in line to inherit the Kim Syndicate. There is tension with the Yong family, and I will not lie to you: they have a far larger reach than we would like. They don’t do things the old way like the Choi and Kim families. They have started to ally themselves with the Arash family in Veridian, giving them cuts and room in our city to spread their reach outside the bounds of their own city.”
“I don’t understand.”
“The Kim and Choi families have been united before. They’ve always been our first ally in times of city upheaval and Syndicate war, and they, like us, don’t believe in letting outsiders have a seat at the table. The Yong family don’t understand that, and are willing to let vermin have scraps if it means scooting us out.”
“I’m-” you shake your head. “You can’t ask that of me.”
“I’m not asking.” He reaches for a lighter and picks up the cigar. He takes a moment to relight it, taking his focus off of you. You feel your pulse spiking, your grip on the chair like iron. “I am telling you that this is what your future will be. I understand you like the Kwon boy, but-”
You sneer, baring your teeth. “The Kwon boy? Don’t reduce him to some stranger. Soonyoung grew up in this house, he is family. And I don’t just like him, I love him. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you bullying him because you’re frustrated that I love him. You love him too.”
“I do. I love him like my own. But he is not for you.”
“He is. I will not marry Yijun. I am asking you not as a member of this Syndicate, but as your daughter to drop this machination from your plans. I am your blood, you cannot ask this of me.”
“I told you, I am not asking. I am telling you.”
A tremor starts in your hands. Your heart races so fast that you feel sick, sweat slicking your skin as you begin to pant sharply. The ringing in your ears grows until you feel disconnected to it, like suddenly you’re living in third person. You’re aware that you’re hyperventilating and yet, suddenly it’s separate from you.
Standing abruptly, you feel the world tilt. You take a second to steady yourself, feeling the numb tingle spread throughout you like a flood.
“Sit down,” your father demands. You hear the warning. Recognize the firmness in it. This is the Tower of the Choi Syndicate speaking, not your father.
“Take this as my resignation from the family,” you tell him. Your voice doesn’t feel like your own, steady and without inflection. “I’ll renounce my inheritance and will not use the Choi family for any connection or advantages-”
“You will not!”
His voice startles you. Lures you away from the safety of your detachment. You look at him, eyes wide and shaking. His hand is fisted on the armchair, his rage crackling around him like a thunderstorm. “I will not have my only daughter sabotage everything this family has built for the affection of someone unfit for her station. Kwon Soonyoung is a weapon meant to serve you. You will marry Kim Yijun or I will remove the obstacle altogether.”
Your entire life there have been two versions of your father. The stoic leader of one of the oldest criminal empires in Hyperion, the vicious man who could be cold and calculating, and who was reverently feared by his enemies. The kind father who watched you and Seungcheol study math together, carefully explaining to you how to carry numbers over in the equation.
It is the former who sits before you now. Someone entirely unfamiliar to you, though you’ve always known he existed. And why would you? Your father has never had to be ruthless with you before, hiding the way he could cut from you until it was necessary.
Soonyoung knew. You know it with absolute clarity. You remember the fear in his eyes when you had slipped into his room that night asking for a kiss, the way that he is always so careful about when and where he touches you, the way he takes the assignments and the mistreatment without so much as a protest because it means he gets to have you.
“You would kill him?” you whisper, looking your father in the eye. “You promised to take him in when his family was murdered. He had no one, and you promised his father you’d raise him as your own. You would go back on that?”
He scowls. “If his father knew what he was, he’d kill Soonyoung himself. That boy is a dog to be set upon whoever his owner wishes, who kills with impunity.” You say nothing. I don’t feel like a person. Soonyoung’s words echo in your mind, haunting. “I hold the collar and I will put him down, if need be.”
“So you raised a pet to be disposed of at your convenience?”
“I raised a boy who should be grateful I haven’t put him in the fucking ground for sullying my only daughter. I let you two have time, and you should be grateful. It is my love for him that has stayed my hand this long. No more. You will marry Kim Yijun, or you will bury that boy. This is the command of your Tower.”
“Mother will not let you-”
“Your mother doesn’t let me do anything. I am the Tower of this family, and it does what I command. You will fall in line.”
Tears spill from your eyes. You suddenly feel like you’re standing on a cliff, the vertigo of nothingness at the bottom making you sick with fear. Desperation grips at you as you stare at your father, willing him to change his mind. Begging him.
His pity doesn’t come. There is only resolute silence, watching as you crumple in front of him, knees going weak as you abruptly sit - fall - on the floor. You bury your face in your hands, grief for something lost stealing your ability to maintain control before you’ve even given an answer.
I’m not made for you.
Soonyoung had tried to tell you a long time ago and you’d brushed him off. Of course he was made for you. He was all you’ve ever wanted, and you’ve always been given what you wanted. You made him whole, and he you. How could you not be made for one another.
“Please don’t do this to me. Daddy,” you whisper, trying to appeal to him with the little girl he loves. “Please, I love him.”
“Lan will escort you to your room.” You ignore his words, pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes, willing the tears to stop. You know later you’ll feel pathetic for the display of emotion, for the meltdown in the face of adversity. “You will announce your engagement at the end of the week.”
“Yes, Tower.”
“If you so much as remotely try to sneak around with him, I will put him in the ground and bear the weight of that grief for eternity.”
“Yes, Tower.”
“Know that I love you. We must make sacrifices for this family we wish not to. But you will make the sacrifice like I have so many times before. So will Soonyoung.”
You stand, limbs shaky as you look at your father, the heat of your mother’s rage fueling your gaze. “Yes, Tower.”
Sleep claws at you with greedy fingers, unwilling to give you up to the waking light of day. You groan, suspended in that moment of almost awake but achingly unaware. A brush of warm skin on your arm pulls you the rest of the way from heavy sleep, your thoughts sticky as they formulate and you open your eyes, squinting in the gray light of your room.
Squinting at the clock displayed on your nightstand, you realize it’s late morning. The tinted windows of your room keep out the sunlight, but a single panel has been adjusted to let some of the cloudy day in, a single shaft of gray spilling into your room like muddy water.
Warmth presses behind your back, the steady touch on your arm trailing up and down. For a second, you lean back into it, feeling your head thud against Soonyoung’s chest, his mouth pressing against the crown of your head. He drags his fingers up and down your arm absently, light as a feather. He smells like soap, a hint of his familiar vanilla and sandalwood.
“Have trouble sleeping?” the words are mumbled against you.
“Hmm?”
“There’s lines of crushed knockout on your nightstand, Baby.”
You look at the nightstand. Sure enough, the white pills you crushed are dusted across the surface. The reality of why you used them slams into you so suddenly that you stiffen, muscles locking.
Soonyoung notices immediately, his touch stilling. “What?”
Finding the words is impossible. You don’t know where to start, your father’s words make you dizzy. The sheets stick to your skin, Soonyoung’s warmth too hot to stand. You scramble from bed, kicking at the sheets and putting distance between you as you bolt toward the bathroom.
“Hey,” he calls after you. You don’t turn to look at him, the cool tile giving you goosebump as the lights flicker on. You close the door behind you firmly, pressing your back against it. Soonyoung’s knocks are immediate, his voice calling your name on the other side. “What’s wrong?”
The use of your name sours your stomach. You lurch forward, diving for the toilet as the contents of your stomach empty. The bile burns, your eyes watering as you press against the cold porcelain, clinging to it for life.
Soonyoung opens the door, letting himself in as you heave again. He’s quick to react, opening the medicine cabinet to remove an anti-nausea inhalent. He wordlessly pads over to you, crouching down to extend it toward you.
You avoid looking at him directly in the eye as you snatch it from him. His brows are pinched in concern, face swollen with what little sleep he got and mouth turned downward. Your stomach roils again but holds as you crack the inhalent and wave it under your nose, breathing in gently.
The stimulant makes your eyes water, but immediately the churning in your stomach subsides. You close your eyes for a moment, breathing in and out slowly, trying to regulate yourself. Soonyoung watches in silence, his hands opening and closing at his sides like he wants to reach out and touch you but doesn’t.
When you open your eyes, there is so much love and concern on his face that you almost break right then and there. Instead, you clear your throat and straighten, tossing the medication in the trash.
“Thanks, just hungover. I need to shower.”
He looks doubtful. “Alright.”
Soonyoung stands, heading to the shower. You clear your throat and he pauses, glancing at you over his shoulder. “Alone, please.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, I just want to shower.”
He says your name again. Not Baby. Not any other derivative. Your name. “You can talk to me.”
Your heart cracks. You panic. Your brain races for the only viable option. “I just want to take a fucking shower, Soonyoung.” You push yourself off the ground, scowling at him. He moves out of your way as you pass him, stunned to silence. “I don’t need you crowding my space every five seconds.”
Refusing to look at him as you hit the panel in the wall, you instead focus on the water that falls from the ceiling, a storm of heat and the smell of peppermint. You keep your back turned toward him, staring at the water as it heats, steam curling in tendrils where it hits the stone tiles.
“You can go,” you say sharply.
“Alright.”
The gentle click of the door when he leaves is barely audible over the hum of the shower. You let the rushing water lull you into a state of numbness, peeling your clothes off with unsteady, mechanical movements.
Hot water slicks off your shoulders. You close your eyes and hang your head, letting the feel of the peppering water sluice over your ears, eyes, nose, mouth. You let it blind your senses to nothing but the roar of water, blotting out everything else.
If I stay right now, you will never get me to leave.
You remember when Soonyoung whispered it against your skin just a few years ago, spoken carefully and clearly, a promise and a warning. He would never let you go. You had to let him go. Telling him what your father has asked of you - has threatened to take away from you - will only make Soonyoung’s feet dig in further.
For as long as you’ve known him, Soonyoung has been a covetous creature. You remember the night at the club he antagonized you just to see that spark of want, just to prove to himself it was him you wanted. You remember the way he clung to you in the dark of your bedroom, the only person who could ever make him whole. Who could make him feel.
Your father sees Soonyoung as a loyal attack dog - but it isn’t the Tower of the Choi Syndicate who holds Soonyoung’s collar. It never has been. Soonyoung has never asked your father how high.
Pressing your palms to your eyes, you start deep breathing exercises. In through your nose, out through your mouth. The shaking in your fingers begins to subside, the logic part of your brain turning on.
The threat on Soonyoung’s life is real. You saw the resolve in your father’s eye, the painful glint. He would hate to do it, but he would do it. You’re entwined too deep into your family’s affairs and business to vanish. There is nothing in the world you have that’s your own, no assets that are not connected to them in some way.
And if you tell Soonyoung, he’ll face the problem like he does everything that stands in his way: try to kill it.
For a split moment, your brain chases the thought like a mouse after cheese. Like a long math problem, you work out if it’s possible to commit patricide and get away with it. Your mother will never forgive you, but Seungcheol might. Your friends would - they’re loyal to you, especially Jeonghan and Angel.
The older generation, though-
You toss aside the thought almost as quickly as you thought of it - not because you don’t want to kill your father, but because it isn’t possible. Not just like that. There are too many pieces on the chessboard, too many domino effects spreading out in every direction if you take that route.
No. There is only a single path for you, set in motion by a hand with more power than you.
And there’s only one way you can move forward with Soonyoung.
There’s so much of your mother’s side of the family you’ve inherited. Her side has always been associated with the phoenix, the burning immortality of their name and their strength, a blazing glory. Your maternal relatives have always been the rage and the fire that was needed for a Syndicate to advance, a good partnership for the Choi’s who were cold and steadfast.
What you need now is the winter of the mountain, not the rage of the phoenix. You need to be a Choi.
Steadfast is the mountain.
You love Soonyoung. You love him you love him you love him youlovehimyoulovehimyoulovehimYOULOVEHIMYOULOVEHIM-
Pressing your fist to your mouth, you bite down for one, blinding moment of untapped rage. You feel your skin break, taste iron and salt, feel pain bloom.
Steadfast is the mountain.
Then it’s gone. You drop your hand from your mouth. Open your eyes. Turn off the shower. The rage is gone, buried beneath a layer of newly formed ice. If there is anyone you can do this for, it’s Soonyoung. You love him. You will destroy him. But he’ll be alive.
Soonyoung is sitting on your bed when you open the door. He’s got a tablet in his hand, the holographic images displaying above the screen, haloing his face in blue light. There are circles under his eyes and his teeth worry at his bottom lip, which is chapped. He’s shirtless, the compact planes of his body half shadowed by the single shaft of light filtering through a window.
He looks up at you but you ignore him, heading to your closet. The silence is brutal. You push through it, opening the closet doors to reveal a massive space nearly the same size of your bathroom. Track lights kick on, rows and rows of clothes by color greeting you. In the middle, there is an island counter, filled with drawers and biolocked jewelry safes.
Soft steps tell you Soonyoung is standing at the entrance of the closet. You still don’t face him, walking over to your section of black clothes. You flick through them, eyes scanning. Black seems appropriate. It feels like death, afterall.
Soonyoung’s voice is soft as his late night kisses. “What’s going on?”
“I’m marrying Kim Yijun.”
A beat passes. Then another.
“Is that supposed to be a joke? I’m not interested in pranks this morning.”
“It’s not a prank.” You pull out a black, silk dress. “The Tower has asked this of me, and I’ll be doing it.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
You continue, undeterred as you put the dress back and keep looking. “The Kim family has agreed to the match ahead of the rising tensions with the Yong Syndicate and their new take on foreign allies. A united front of the old families will benefit our family-”
“You’re not fucking marrying Kim Yijun.”
“All of the metrics we’ve run for public opinion and potential city-wide reaction are favorable. The Tower needs his children to fall in line, and I intend to do so.”
Soonyoung storms toward you. You turn on your heel, holding a finger out to him, voice severe, “Don’t come near me.”
“Why? Because you know you’ll lose your resolve? Because the second I touch you, you’ll drop whatever bravado this is and let me help you?”
Exactly that. He knows you inside and out. Sees through the front. It doesn’t matter. You don’t need him to believe you, you need him to obey.
He takes another step and you back up. “I will scream,” you threaten, venom in your voice. “I will scream and Seungcheol and Vernon are right down the hall. Whose side do you think they’ll take, with your reputation for violence?”
“Fuck you, they know I’d never hurt you.”
You hear the waver in his voice. That tiny sliver of doubt, so small and tiny but there. They do know he would never hurt you, but Soonyoung isn’t convinced they’d believe him. It makes you sick, but you latch onto it, unspooling that tiny bit of hurt. “Do they, Soonyoung? I hear some of them call you a mad dog because you attack with no regard for anything. Do you really think they trust you entirely with me?”
Soonyoung is raging. His chest rising and falling, shaking his head back and forth as he tries to understand. You’re rooted to the spot, muscles coiled, pulse thudding in your throat. “You are not,” he growls. “Marrying Kim Yijun. You don’t even want to, don’t try to lie to me about your feelings or insult me thinking you can bait me. You love me. You are mine.”
“I belong to the Choi family and it’s what my family needs from me. I will do my duty.”
“Fuck your family!” His roar makes you flinch, briefly closing your eyes. His palm slams on the top of the countertop in front of him, sharp in the silence. “You have a duty to me. I told you I would not fucking let you go. You’re not doing it. I’ll fucking kill him, you think I won’t? I’ll murder every last one of them-”
“You don’t tell me what to do, Kwon Soonyoung. I will do this, and you will obey.” He bristles, going rigid as your words land like a slap. “When I say jump, you say how high. You’ve always known that.”
For a second, he cracks. The Soonyoung you first saw on your doorstep, crying and round-cheeked and ruddy returns. His lip trembles and the way he looks at you nearly melts your iron will. You’re so close to collapsing, to laying it out before him, to risking it all.
“Don’t do this to me.” His whisper is made of glass. Delicate. He presses his palm to his chest, right over his heart. Earnest. “I can’t - you know I can’t. I- please. I can’t do this.”
Licking your lips, you look him in the eyes. His eyes are your favorite. Dark. Stormy. Endless. They are lined with silver, panic rippling across the surface.
You lift your chin and push back your shoulders. “You can and you will, because I told you to jump, Soonyoung. Now ask how high.”
Sunlight warms the back of your neck, humidity clinging to your skin like a second layer. You take a deep breath, though the steamy air offers no relief. You snap open a silk fan, waving it in front of your face in hopes of chasing away some of the sweat, feeling the separation between skin and makeup the longer you sit in the wretched heat of the garden.
It’s not even real sunlight or heat. You can’t tell beyond the projection in the room, but you know that there are vents heating up the room and controls that make the air humid and sticky, making it feel like you’re sitting in a real garden outside somewhere lush.
Lin drones on and on about something. You tuned her out long ago, eyes flickering back and forth to your watch and the women’s faces around you. None of them here are really your friend - not in the way Angel is, the way Wonwoo or Jeonghan are.
Yet you’re expected to be here, entertaining the upper echelon wives of the Choi and Kim Syndicates, boiling away in an imaginary garden while you sweat to death, dress clinging to your skin and thighs slippery in the seat as you adjust yourself, uncomfortable.
“It’s hot as a motherfucker,” a whispered voice comes from next to you. You look up to see the newly engaged heiress of Nexus Capital next to you, glaring behind the dark shade of her sunglasses as Lin continues rambling about something. “Couldn’t she have made it less real?”
A smirk twitches on your lips. You haven’t spoken to her much, but her recent engagement to Xu Minghao had secured the position the Choi Syndicate had been fighting for in the shipping yards and docks with the Yong family, elevating her family into the favored circle of your father.
Suddenly, you remember who had recommended that marriage in the first place. You remember the party, the pretty dress you wore, Soonyoung’s hand briefly on your waist as he kissed you goodbye for a meeting. You had no idea then that your throwaway comment about an arranged marriage to benefit your family would become your own nightmare under an hour later.
Grief is a funny thing. You never knew that you could feel grief for someone who isn’t dead, yet sometimes you feel such an overwhelming amount of grief at the hole that Soonyoung has left behind that you can’t breathe.
Throat dry, you reach for water, drinking eagerly. You feel a bead of water run down your face, but you ignore it in favor of trying to focus on not panicking.
Anxiety attacks are new for you. Though your entire life has been colored with stressful situations unique to growing up in a criminal Syndicate, you could never say that you were anxious before. At least not in the way that made the back of your neck too hot and the tips of your fingers buzz with the threat of a looming meltdown.
You ignore it. It’s all you know how to do. The anxiety medication your therapist gave you doesn't work, and you can’t crush a bunch of pills and inhale them anytime you feel like you’re about to get tunnel vision and spiral.
Well, you suppose you can, but you’re trying not to get into the habit.
Instead of acknowledging the way the panic lurks around your edges like a predator waiting to pounce, you listen to the dull conversation around you. Focus on the gossip that you don’t care about, exactly, but know it’s good to have.
Since marrying into the Kim family, you’re not sure what your job is. With your family, your role as the face, the legacy and the representation of the Choi Syndicate had always been clear and obvious. Now, your husband sends you to stupid things like this with preening people that you don’t like and makes you leave events early when he’s irritable.
Gossip is a weapon, though. So you gather it when you can, taking in bits of information and storing it for yourself. Rarely do you offer it to Yijun - not that he would take it - but Jeonghan finds the information you share useful. So does Angel, but there’s rarely anything you know that she doesn’t.
Just as your anxiety begins to fade, the source of it materializes.
At first, you think you’re seeing things when a door appears in the wall depicting an apple orchard and Soonyoung strolls out into the fake-sun. You blink dumbly, spine tingling as you realize that your mind is not playing tricks on you and it is him.
He sees you immediately. His dark eyes burn like embers, pinning you to the spot. His face remains motionless but you see his jaw tick, the only sign that he is immediately on edge when he sees you. He’s dressed for work in an all black suit, required for the Swords of the Choi family.
Giggles breakout around the table as he approaches, the ladies around you all flushed cheeks and demure smiles. You feel the buzzing start in your hands again, this time worse. It goes up your arms, working its way to your chest as the anxiety increases tenfold, heart pounding.
Soonyoung bows. “I beg your pardon, ladies.”
“My goodness, Soonyoung,” Lin preens. “You must be horribly hot in that suit, but you do look handsome.”
You fight the urge to snarl at her that the imitation of the garden isn’t real and no amount of pretending will make it real. You even imagine reaching across the table and plunging her fish knife into her hand. Instead, you watch Soonyoung, your hummingbird heart fluttering.
He gives her a polite smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “I’ll be alright. I apologize for interrupting, but the Tower of the Choi family has sent me to escort his daughter home.”
“Home?”
“The Choi Estate.”
He doesn’t say what he means: the Kim Estate is not your home.
“Alright,” you say, voice reedy. Your hands are trembling as you slide your chair from the table, the metal legs grinding loudly against concrete. You flinch at the sound, hyper aware of every bead of sweat crawling down your spine, every beat of your heart that is too fast, too hard.
Static fills you as you mumble parting words to the women who watch you in confusion. At least, you think you mumble your goodbyes. Blood rushes in your ears as you take uneven steps toward Soonyoung, who turns on his heel and starts marching toward the apple orchard.
It feels like you’re in an echo chamber. Everything suddenly feels hollow and everything sounds as though you’re hearing it through a thin wall. Muted. Dull. He opens the door that you can’t quite spot even this close, ushering you inside as your vision starts tunneling to a narrow point, everything else blurry and distorted.
No. No no no no no.
Lifting your hands, you glance down at them to see them trembling, opening and closing your fists in an attempt to stop the buzzing feeling, as though you could will it away. You think Soonyoung says something but you can’t hear him over the roar of panic that grips you and tears you sideways.
Instead of following him down the hall, you lurch toward a different hall, rushing toward the powder room. It feels like the walls are narrowing as you throw open the door, breath coming out in pants. Everything feels tight and compact, crushing smaller still.
Stumbling to the sink you try to turn the faucet on. Once. Twice. Cold water spits from the faucet and you gasp, leaning down over the sink to splash freezing water into your face. It doesn’t have the desired effect, the water is not cool enough to shock you out of your panic.
Soonyoung speaks behind you. You can’t hear him, the grip of your anxiety so strong that you grab the edges of the sink to keep you up right. You’re heaving now, heart rattling so hard you think that maybe you’re having a heart attack instead.
A firm grip wretches your attention from the porcelain sink to the mirror, where you see your dripping reflection, eyes blown like saucers. Soonyoung is standing behind you, a hand on your bicep, squeezing. His face is no longer a mask of indifference, but one of confusion.
His mouth moves and you shake your head, squeezing your eyes shut. “I can’t,” you gasp, ragged. “I don’t understand what you’re saying.”
Then, he does something that catches you entirely off guard. You watch in slow motion as he steps back and removes the gun from the holster underneath his suit jacket. You hear the safety on the gun click and the hum as the weapon charges, ready to fire rounds of plasma if he squeezes the trigger.
And then he points the gun at your head, the lights on it flipping from blue to red, signaling it’s ready to kill.
The world stops. The panic vanishes for a split second, replaced with utter shock as you stare at him in the mirror.
“What the fuck are you doing?” you demand, voice stronger than you expect.
Soonyoung is ten levels of crazy, but he’s never pointed a gun at you before. You stare at him, open-mouthed and wondering if he’ll do it. If he could pull the trigger. He’d told you a hundred times when you were together that he would never let you go and it was always with clarity that you understood what he meant: it’s me or no one.
With stark clarity, you realize there’s no reason for Soonyoung not to pull the trigger. He doesn’t care much about the value of his own life from what you can glean over the last two years, and he doesn’t really seem to care about yours.
Not that he should. You promised to make him feel human and you did. Then you took it away from him, leaving him adrift in a vast ocean of nothing alone and untethered.
No, you don’t think you inspire Soonyoung to feel human anymore. If anything, you probably make him want to be the worst version of himself.
Soonyoung’s voice holds no emotion when he asks, “Are you with me?”
“Why are you pointing a gun at me?”
“Breathe,” he says instead. He doesn’t lower the weapon, stormy eyes focused on yours. “Breathe,” he repeats. “Slowly, maybe.”
“Soonyoung, you are holding a gun at me, what do you mean breathe?”
“What do you mean what do I mean? I mean what I fucking said. Breathe normally.”
“Lower the gun!” He does. “What the fuck?”
He breaks eye contact, sliding the weapon back into his suit jacket. He turns away from you as though he didn’t have you at gunpoint a second ago. “You were having a panic attack. Sometimes a shock to the system stalls it. Your breathing has slowed down now. And you’re not panicking.”
A beat of silence passes. Then, “So you leveled a gun at my head?”
“It worked. Let’s go.”
“Are you fucking crazy?”
“Yes. Now let’s go. You’re needed at the Choi Estate.”
“Why?”
“Do I look like I have all the answers? I just do what I’m told. When a Choi says jump, remember?”
You visibly flinch as his words land. Soonyoung doesn’t wait for you to gather yourself, spinning on his heel and exiting the powder room to stride through the halls. Tightness gathers in your chest, left over from your anxiety attack.
Pressing your hands against your dress to wipe the sweat from them, you chase after Soonyoung. He’s already by the apartment’s elevator, jamming his finger into the button. He doesn’t look at you as he waits, content to stare at the metal door.
You don’t know where else to look - you want to look anywhere but him. Turning around, you fixate on the floor to ceiling windows. It’s still morning outside, but it’s hard to tell with the way the clouds block out the view, turning everything to mist.
This high up in the city is reserved for the elite. You can’t imagine why - there’s nothing to look at but clouds, clouds, and more clouds. It’s what makes them have virtual reality rooms in the first place, trying to recreate the experience that they might have if they were wealthy enough to own land.
The sound of the elevator arriving makes you flinch. Soonyoung ignores you, getting in and leaning against the wall as he hits a button to go to the parking garage. You scramble in after him, a little breathless as the doors close just behind you.
Immediately you start shooting down several floors. He glares at the wall, unseeing and unfeeling. You swallow thickly, watching the numbers decrease until you’re at Lin’s private parking garage. Soonyoung is out of the elevator before it finishes opening all the way, storming toward the car he’s left running idle.
Normally someone would open a car door for you. Instead, Soonyoung gets in the driver’s seat and slams the door shut. You reach for the handle of the passenger seat and pause. Normally you sit in the back when being driven somewhere, it’s always been like that. But this is Soonyoung and you’ve always been beside him in the car, his equal.
A muffled get in the fucking car reaches you. Deciding that sitting next to him is too personal, you open the back seat and slide in. You’ve barely shut the door when he punches the gas, slamming you into the back of the seat as he goes.
“Would you stop being an asshole?” you seethe, ripping the seatbelt from next to you to buckle in. Your hands are still shaking and it takes a moment for the clasp to click.
Instead of answering, you hear the way the car accelerates under his foot. Scowling, you look out the window. He speeds into the lift that brings the car down to the ground floor. Lights blur by as the lift drops at lurching speed, your stomach in your throat. You hate coming to apartments for this reason, the feeling of having to freefall to leave never growing on you.
It’s raining when the lift opens to the wet street. Soonyoung peels out on the pavement, tires spinning until they gain traction and the car slides onto the road, narrowly missing someone. You slam against the seatbelt, cursing and clinging onto the door as he pushes the gas down, engine roaring.
“Are you trying to kill us?”
Soonyoung doesn’t answer you. You think it might be because he’s not explicitly trying to kill the two of you, but he doesn’t care if he does. You try not to think about it so much as he powers through the streets of the Upper City, driving past towering businesses, luxury districts with entertainment and bars and apartment buildings.
The road starts to incline and you hit a line of trees. The city vanishes behind you as Soonyoung drives the car up the winding road, leaving a world of metal and lights for greenery and earth. The contrast between the cities below and the Estates above is stark, especially as he drive’s higher up the mountain, snatches of the city below visible.
“Why did you come to get me?” you ask, flicking your gaze to the rearview mirror to watch him. Soonyoung keeps his eyes on the road, but you see his mouth tighten. “Last I checked you’re not an errand boy.”
“So what, you check on me?”
“It’s a figure of speech, you know what I mean.”
“The Tower personally requested I come get you.”
That gives you pause. Soonyoung’s face reveals nothing as he turns on the street that will inevitably lead to the massive metal wall that blocks off the world from the Choi Estate. There can only be a single reason why Soonyoung was sent to fetch you when usually your husband’s staff would do so.
“What’s happened?”
Soonyoung doesn’t answer your question. Instead, he rolls the window down at the guard house to show his face. The security team recognizes him immediately, waving him through as the gate begins to slide open to reveal lush, green jungle.
Gravel crunches underneath the car tires as he drives through the winding foliage on Choi grounds. Your great-great-grandfather had built the Choi compound, the first of the few elite houses on the mountain. He thought it was important to keep the plant life and sprawling greenery to conserve, but you knew it was really about power. Symbolism. Greenery didn’t really exist in the city, and this much space and plantlife meant wealth.
The sprawling estate you grew up in reveals itself. Multiple buildings dot the property, making it more a family compound than an estate. Now that Seungcheol is old enough, he’s moved out of the main house and into one of the smaller homes, occupying the space with his own men and staff. Still, he’s just a brief stroll away from your childhood home.
Home. Even two years under a Kim family banner hasn’t erased the feeling of home for you. There is nothing in the house you share with Yijun that makes it feel like you. It is as devoid of love as your marriage, merely a placeholder for you to sleep, eat, and occasionally, try to produce an heir.
Soonyoung pulls up to the long building that serves as a garage, hitting a button on the car’s screen to open one of the bays. He pulls in slowly, the outside world fading as the garage door shuts behind the car, dousing it in darkness until the neon lights above flicker on.
Without a word, he powers off the vehicle and gets out. Taking a deep breath, you square your shoulders and get out of the car. He doesn’t wait for you - even shuts the door as he enters the main house so you’re forced to lug it open.
He’s already opening the door to the main house a few yards away, forcing you again to haphazardly navigate gravel in your heels as you give chase. You’re sweating and irritated by the time you’re up the steps and pushing through the front door, a nasty quip on your lips ready until you see your aunt coming down the stairs.
“Oh thank goodness,” she says, seeing you. She looks older than you remember, the lines of her face deep and the hair at her temples gray. “Come along.”
“What’s going on?” you ask, uncertain as you step into the foyer and let her take your arm.
She scowls. “Did that useless boy not tell you? Your mother suffered a heart attack this morning. She’s with Dr. Ymir in the medical wing.”
Your heart thuds to a stop as you wheel around to look over your shoulder at Soonyoung. His gaze is stormy but his face gives away nothing as he turns to leave the way he came, slamming the front door and vanishing down the steps to leave you alone.
“No,” you mumble as your aunt pulls you down the hall. “He didn’t tell me.”
Because that’s how much Soonyoung hates you. Hate isn’t even the right word, you think. It is something far deeper and far more sinister, fueled only by taking away something that he valued more than anything else in the world and forcing him to live with it.
I deserve this, you think as the door to one of the private medical rooms opens, a clinical smell hitting you in the face. I deserve everything that happens to me.
-
I deserve this. It’s all you can think of as you watch the black casket lower into the ground. Seungcheol stands beside you, his hands linked in front of him. You want to reach out and take his hand in yours, but you don’t want him to look weak. Don’t want others to see him crack like you know he will if you comfort him.
Instead, you comfort yourself as best you can, which isn’t saying much. You’ve never been good at dealing with your feelings, too much of your mother’s blood running through you. It was your father’s least favorite trait of yours and perhaps Soonyoung’s favorite.
Soonyoung, who has always been your emotional tether and outlet. You’re not accustomed to dealing with grief alone, and the pull of it feels like an undertow threatening to drag you under and drown you.
Someone shifts behind you, close enough that you feel Yijun next to you stiffen. You turn to look over your shoulder, blinking in surprise as you tilt your head up to see Soonyoung. He doesn’t look at you, dark eyes fixed forward and jaw flexing tightly. He’s standing closer than is necessary, as shown by your husband’s scoff.
Soonyoung doesn’t move, though. He remains nearly pressed against your back, so close that you can smell vanilla and sandalwood. Turning away from him, you feel your shoulders relax. He ignores you, but he’s there, a stoic guardian that’s just out of reach.
The Tower of the Choi Syndicate is too lost in his grief to notice or care about Soonyoung’s proximity to you. Your brother couldn’t care less, barely realizing that his brother by choice is an inch away from him. But you know Soonyoung is there and that’s all that matters.
The grief lessens, turning back from churning waters to gentle, lapping waves.
-
“Your brother doesn’t respect me,” Yijun asserts. You look at him in the bathroom mirror. He’s standing behind you in the closet, taking out glinting cufflinks to replace them in the countertop in the middle of the aisles of clothes. “You should work on that.”
“Seungcheol hardly takes what I say to heart.”
Yijun snorts, detecting the lie before you can even get it out. Seungcheol very much values your insight and opinion far more than he’s interested in Yijun’s. He’s made it clear at multiple parties and events now, often asking you how business is and how the shared Kim-Choi accounts are doing, despite not having anything to do with them.
Seungcheol hates your role within the Kim family. On more than one occasion he’s recommended Yijun make use of you somewhere in the family business, to make you the head of operation somewhere so that your schooling and experience weren’t going to waste. Yijun asserted that your social skills were being put to perfect use, entertaining the wives of his associates and serving as the perfect host when his business colleagues and friends were over.
“He’s going to be leading the family soon,” Yijun sighs. “It would be better for us if he saw me as a real ally.”
“He does see you as an ally. You’re married to his sister.”
“Exactly, so you should remind him that I’m family.” It doesn’t sound like a threat, but it also doesn’t sound like a request. Sighing, you shut the drawer in the counter forcefully. It draws his attention, gaze darkening. “Don’t you want your brother to respect your husband?”
No, you think. You don’t respect your husband, so why should Seungcheol?
Instead, you sigh. “Of course, Yi.” He doesn’t soften at the nickname. “I’ll talk to him, alright? He’s got a lot going on. And don’t talk about my father’s health that way.”
“I didn’t say anything about his health.”
“Please,” you snort. “I know what you meant about Cheol taking over soon.”
Yijun had been talking about Seungcheol more and more. You’ve watched with a sour taste in your mouth as your husband tries to earn your brother’s attention and trust, flashing what he thinks Seungcheol cares about in his face, telling him about the new car he acquired, or the historical art piece you purchased at an auction, and the new apartment building he’s constructing.
Seungcheol doesn’t give a fuck about any of that. The Choi family never has. Your ancestors didn’t make a name for themselves and carve it on the mountain they built their home on by showing off their wealth and what it could do for them. They did it by earning it, and by remaining steadfast and intelligent. Political.
Yijun understands none of that. As the eldest son of his family, it’s a shame. The real world of the Syndicates is lost on him. He has enough business acumen to run companies under his father’s careful tutelage and instruction, but he doesn’t have the social savvy for it, the right drive.
His brother does. You think of Kim Minchan and nearly shiver. The middle child of the Kim family has more than enough understanding of the way that things work, but the ocean of blood behind him is enough for you to prefer Yijun leading the Kim Syndicate any day.
“I’m just saying,” Yijun grunts, flicking off the lights in the closet. “Your brother has all the reason in the world to respect me and he doesn’t.” He looks at you, face hardening. “Do you tell him not to? Is that what it is? His baby sister tells him how useless her husband is?”
Danger is in the air. Yijun won’t lay a hand on you, but it doesn’t make this dance any less stressful. You turn away from the mirror, looking at him fully. He’s not terrible to look at - he has a sharp jaw and a broad nose and a pleasant shaped mouth. He’s handsome, even.
He’s not Kwon Soonyoung.
Swallowing away the thought, you reach up to put your hands on his chest, placating. “I wouldn’t do that,” you assure him, softening your voice. You hate the sound of your voice, hate the way you pitch it low and gentle. “You’re a reflection of me too. I would never let my brother think any of those things about my husband.”
Yijun swats your hands away, making you grit your teeth. “Don’t act like a whore. Just - tell your brother. I should be in his inner circle by now. Make it happen.”
As Yijun leaves the bathroom, the urge to grab him by his collar and yank him back in to smash his head on the counter almost wins. You stare at him until he vanishes in the bedroom, your rage a live, sentient thing. You feel it crawl beneath your skin, slithering and clawing and biting and begging to be let out.
Steady is the mountain. You take that fire and shove it down. Years of instinct of reacting with your mother’s temper peter out slowly. It’s a shame - you’re the last woman left from her side of the family, the only one who can carry the fire of the phoenix.
You glare at the bedroom. Somewhere, Yijun lurks, getting into bed. Oh how the shadows of the weak choke out the fire of the strong.
If killing Yijun wouldn’t risk everything, you’d have done it already. That first month spent with him where you realized this would not only be a loveless marriage, but a hateful one had almost driven you to it. The Choi Syndicate could surely survive a war with the Kim Syndicate - you had better assets, stronger loyalties, and more money.
But if the Kim family turned to the Yong family…
Avoiding unification of the Kim and Yong families is why you were married to Kim Yijun in the first place. To murder him now would mean Syndicate war, and despite the fact that every moment with him is hateful and poisonous, you’re too nervous to put your family at risk.
Especially with your father’s failing health, as Yijun had pointed out.
Syndicate war isn’t the only thing keeping you from stabbing Kim Yijun until you can’t feel anything anymore. Minchan’s shadow of a presence lingers over your thoughts, one of the few threats you truly fear. Any harm to his brother would elevate Minchan to a position where he could only wield his power more.
And he’d hunt you like a bloodhound. You’re unsure if there is any corner of the world he would leave unturned if you killed his brother, no matter how much it would benefit him if Yijun keeled over tomorrow.
Inside your bedroom is dark. It doesn’t feel like your bedroom at all. There’s nothing homey about it, no possession or unique decor, no pictures. You wouldn’t sleep in here at all if Yijun didn’t make you, insisting that he couldn’t trust any of the house staff not to tell your father you weren’t sleeping in the same room.
Your father doesn’t care. He stopped caring about anything the day you put your mother into the dirt. Even if he hadn’t, as long as your relationship looked functional to whom it mattered, it mattered little to him if you slept in the same room or if you even liked Kim Yijun.
He’d made that very clear the day he tore away your future with Soonyoung.
Yijun is already snoring when you climb into bed. You grind your teeth, reaching to pull open the nightstand for noise cancelling earbuds and sleep medication. The medication isn’t as strong as the crushed up knockout you might have used previously, but it helps take the edge off without making you vulnerable to attack.
Which is something you still worry about.
Setting your phone on silent, you settle in for sleep. It takes a long time, but you finally drift away to thinking about smothering the man next to you in his sleep.
-
Something wakes you. Blinking sleep from your eyes, you sit up in bed and look around the room. It’s dark, but you can see the barely-there outlines of the furniture in your bedroom. Next to you, Yijun is gone. You can feel the lack of presence there more than you can see it, reaching your hand over to confirm the bed is cold and that he’s not been there for a while.
You reach for the phone on your nightstand but can’t find it. Frowning, you press your hand on the cool marble, sweeping back and forth to no avail. You lean further, finger finding the button to the light function on the stand and press down.
Dim, lavender light halos the top of the nightstand. Your phone is nowhere in sight. It’s just your jewelry dish, a decanter for water, and your sleep medication. You’re pretty sure that you put your phone face down before you went to bed, but you can’t be sure.
Pulling open the nightstand drawer only makes the back of your neck sweat. Your phone isn’t there, but neither is the gun you keep in the top drawer. Both you and Yijun sleep armed, despite having armed guards on the premises at all times.
Snapping the drawer shut, you roll to the other side of the bed and pull his open. A book, a watch, some pill bottles and a pack of cigarettes fill the drawer. No gun.
The back of your neck tingles. You rip the sheets off of you, heading to the bedroom door. The house is mostly dark when you open it, the entire second floor dim. Leaning over the banister, you can see a shaft of light falling across the room, perhaps coming from the kitchen.
Quietly, you stalk toward the top of the stairwell, trying to reduce noise as you creep down. A high pitched whine rings in your ears, heart thundering. You have no idea why you’re so afraid all of the sudden, especially in your own house, but your instincts tell you to be alert and quiet.
At the foot of the stairs, you confirm the light is coming from the kitchen. It’s not uncommon for people to be in the house in the middle of the night. Official Syndicate business happens at any time, and often goes into the early hours of morning.
Tonight, it’s not busy. Before you’d gone upstairs to bed, you’d noted that it was a skeleton crew security team for the night, just a few of them at the gate house and walking the premises while you and Yijun returned upstairs for the evening alone.
Creeping toward the hallway, you pause when you hear voices. You identify Yijun’s voice right away, holding your breath and straining your hearing as he says, “What do you want me to do here?”
“Keep her contained. Make sure no one from her family can reach her.”
“I already took her phone and her gun.”
Your stomach drops. “Good.” That’s Minchan’s voice, you realize, dread growing tenfold. “The second she finds out the Tower has fallen, she’ll try to run or her brother will try to get her.”
“Or that psycho fuck,” Yijun mutters.
“You’d be lucky if it was Seungcheol who came to get her. If Kwon Soonyoung comes looking, call me immediately. We’ll make our move in two hours. We’ve got the biggest team outside the Choi estate ready to go in and we’ve got men and women stationed at all the key points.”
“So I’m just supposed to sit here and babysit my wife?”
“Yes.” Minchan’s tone is nonnegotiable. “We’ll leave the guards at the gatehouse but we can’t spare anyone else. This kind of assault requires everyone. The Yong family will take care of the Pearl District and the Salt.”
Yijun hesitates. “What about the Yoon family? Are they all accounted for?”
“Yes. I have a team on the crazy one - what do they call her?”
“Angel, I think.”
Minchan laughs. “Demon is more fitting. Stay here. Stay by your phone. We’ll call thirty minutes before we give the signal to link everyone on comms. We do this right, and the Choi Syndicate is gone.”
Panic presses in for a moment. Your heart hammers. Your hands shake. Bile churns your stomach. It feels like you can’t get enough air, the pieces of what they're talking about falling into place.
The Tower has fallen.
Your father is dead, and in the wake of the crushing blow, the Kim family intends to strike at yours alongside the Yong family. The realization lands like a blow, immediately slapping you out of your panic.
Fear turns to rage. Rage turns to ice. You are fire, you are the mountain.
Steadfast is the mountain, but the fire does burn.
As quietly as you can, you creep up the stairs. You keep turning over your shoulder to ensure Minchan doesn’t leave the kitchen and catch you creeping back toward your bedroom. When you hit the second floor landing, you all but sprint to your room, gears turning.
Yijun took your phone and intends to keep you locked in the house until they finish their plan. From their discussion, you know they intend to mobilize within two hours, targeting important members of the Choi Syndicate across the city with the help of the Yong family.
It means you have only a few minutes to warn your family to respond, to prepare and to fight back or strike first. Which is hard to do without a phone, but your husband doesn’t know you nearly as well as he thinks.
Door closed behind you, you flip the lock on the bedroom door and dash for the closet. The lights above come to life, bathing you in ghoulish, grey light. You dive to the floor toward your shelf holding all of your shoes, the carpet burns nothing compared to the pain starting to bloom behind your sternum where your grief builds slowly under your anger.
Your father is dead. The Kims are going to turn on you anyway. Your marriage to Kim Yijun to secure alliances against the Yong family was for nothing.
You’ve endured for nothing.
Snatching a pair of boots, you swallow down the bile again. You will not break now, not when there are more important things than the time you’ve wasted withering away in this cold home. Shoving your hand inside the boot, you come into contact with what you were looking for. Your hand closes around the device, yanking it out and powering it on.
The screen flashes to life. You press one and hold, hearing the buzz on the phone as it begins to ring. You cradle the phone against your shoulder and ear, nearly sick with the adrenaline that is pounding through you, your vision blurring, hands shaking.
You grab another shoe, this time reaching inside carefully instead of shoving your hand in. The smooth, bone handle of a knife meets your hand and you wrap your fingers around it firmly, pulling it out.
Soonyoung answers on the fourth ring. “Where are you?”
“The Kim family has turned on the Chois. They’re mobilizing for a full scale attack in roughly two hours. The Yong family is helping them. They’re at the estate and all over the city - anyone who is important to us regardless of position will need to be warned. The Yong family is handling the Pearl District and the Salt.”
“How many men are at Yijun’s estate?” You can hear him moving on the other side of the line, something rustling. Perhaps clothes as he gets dressed. “Are you armed?”
“There are men at the guard house and one walking the perimeter. It’s just me and Yijun inside, I think Minchan is leaving. I’ve got a knife.”
“Where are you in the house?”
“Bedroom, second landing to the right and all the way at the end of the hall. There are windows but they don’t open.”
“Listen to me,” Soonyoung says, voice like ice. “The second we start moving into position to accept the assault, they’ll know something is off. When that happens, Yijun is going to try to kill you, do you understand?” When you say nothing, he asks again, voice louder. “Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“I need you to fight back. Either kill him or hold him off until I’m there.”
“You need to warn-”
“Don’t worry about the fucking Syndicate! We’ll be fine. You’ve given us more than enough time. I need you to be entirely focused on yourself.”
You take a deep breath, letting it out shakily. “Okay.”
“Do you have frostbyte?”
“Maybe? Yijun might have it in the nightstand.”
“Take some. Not enough to fuck you up, but enough to pump that adrenaline and make your head clear. I will be there in thirty minutes.”
“Okay.”
You squeeze the phone, unwilling to hang up. It doesn’t matter that you haven’t heard his voice in months. It doesn’t matter that he hates you, it doesn’t matter that you know whatever used to be between you is broken and it’s entirely your fault. You just… don’t want to hang up.
“Hey.” Soonyoung’s voice is soft, drawing you from your trembling spiral. “Do what I said. Do the frostbyte and kill him if you have to. I have to go.”
“Okay.”
“I’ll see you in thirty minutes.” Soonyoung pauses, the silence heavy on the line. “I love you.”
Nothing breaks you like those words, whispered but firm, whispered in case you die before he gets there. He doesn’t have to say that’s why he’s saying it - you know. You know the chance of him not getting there fast enough is likely and real. He does too, but instead of telling you, he gives you this.
You whisper back, “I love you.”
Soonyoung hangs up the phone and you fight a sob. You bring the knife up to your hand, pressing your pointer finger down on the tip. The sting is immediate, making you his in pain as blood beads on the tip of your finger, red and garish in the closet lighting.
The sting grounds you enough to push yourself from the floor, following Soonyoung’s directions to Yijun’s nightstand. You yank it open, rattling around the contents until you find the bag of frostbyte you were hoping was there. Yijun uses it the nights he attempts to put an heir in you, numbing himself the way you never did, taking your punishment for what you’d done to Soonyoung raw.
Not enough to fuck me up, you think, untwisting the bag and shaking. Just enough to make it easier.
Dipping the tip of your knife into the bag, you pull out a small lump of the glittering drug. You try not to think about that night at the club all those years ago, when you and Soonyoung were still dancing around one another’s feelings, doing anything you could to get a reaction out of one another.
You take a sharp breath in. The drug hits your nasal passage and it burns, your eyes smarting as you tilt your head up, cursing and blinking away the tears. It hits the back of your throat, bitter and awful as you cough a little, trying to wait for it to clear your nasal passage.
When the burning subsides a little, you do it again. It’s less harsh than the first bump but still just as awful, making you wonder how the fuck you did this on the weekend with your friends as a teenager. Tossing the back on the nightstand, you stand waiting, closing your eyes and trying to do deep breathing exercises your therapist taught you to calm down.
Frostbyte works fast. It hits your bloodstream and an electric calm comes over you. Everything comes into sharper focus, the adrenaline pumping as your simmering rage turns to a boil, ready to kick the fucking door down and hunt down Yijun yourself.
Nerves fade away to the background of your mind. You walk toward the door, waiting to the side so when Yijun ultimately kicks it down, you’re ready.
Ten minutes pass. The entire time your ears are ringing, heart thundering in your chest. You think the frostbyte was a good idea - if you had to wait in silence like this without it, you would have gone crazy by now. Even with the drug, fear nips at your ankles, a hound ever on your tail.
Yijun’s footsteps thunder up the stairs. Your heart lurches and you inch away from the door, readying yourself. He storms down the hall, fury in each step until he gets to the door and turns the handle. It doesn’t move. He tries a few more times, shaking the door.
His roar on the other side of the door is loud and feral, making you grin as he thrashes against the door, cursing and screaming at you. The door holds, rattling in place as he slams what you think is his shoulder into it multiple times.
The bombardment pauses for a second and then restarts ten times stronger. This time, you recognize that it’s his foot slamming into the side of the door. You realize he’s kicking where the door is latched, trying to break it open instead of kicking through it.
A small crack sounds. You take a breath, readying yourself as you hear another snap go through the door, now rattling loose in its frame. He kicks hard again and the door blows open, nearly smacking you as it does. You roll away from it on the wall, keeping close as Yijun barrels past you, swinging his head from left to right as he looks for you.
It’s your only chance to get the jump on him. You slide from the dark, heart hammering. You’ve never stabbed anyone before, but you’ve practiced. You drive the knife upward, intending to puncture his kidneys. Yijun twists a little to the side, sensing your presence as the knife plunges into his side.
Yijun screams. Your satisfaction only lasts a second before he throws his elbow backward, catching you in the nose. Pain explodes in your face, blinding you as your eyes water and you stumble backward hands shooting to your face.
Removing the knife from his side, Yijun screams at you, spit flying as he comes at you. Through tears and warm blood rushing from your nose, you reach for anything to use as a weapon. Your hand closes on the ceramic artwork on the dresser and you launch it at him, hitting him hard in the face.
The ceramic shatters and he drops the knife. You dive for it but he grabs you by the hair, ripping you upward and backward like a ragdoll. You lose your footing, screaming as he tightens his fist in your hair and drags you toward the bed, tossing you there.
With a feral shout, you kick your foot forward, catching him in the lower gut. He grunts but wraps his hand around your ankle, yanking you back off the bed onto the floor, where the knife lays. You reach for it, seething, your hands managing to close around it just as he pivots, foot landing against your ribcage.
Again, pain explodes inside of you. With the frostbyte, you barely recognize it, grabbing the knife and stabbing him in the calf. He shrieks and collapses to a knee, reaching for the knife. This time you rip it back out, nearly losing your grip on the bone handle, fingers slippery with blood.
You stab him again, this time in the thigh. His knee presses into your stomach, crushing you and forcing air from your lungs. You ignore the pain, stabbing him again and again in the thigh until he falls backward off of you, muscles malfunctioning, tendons give away.
Yijun kicks out at you with his good leg but you’re already moving, ignoring the way your body is screaming in utter agony, every part of you throbbing and begging you to give up.
You don’t. You scramble on top of him. His hands shoot up to your throat but you spit at him, a spray of blood blinding him and making his grip loosen momentarily. It’s enough to bring the knife down home again, this time directly in the juncture between his neck and shoulder.
For a second, he fights back. You hear the wet gasp and he thrashes, but you stab him again. And again and again and again and again -
You think about all of the times that you were forced to submit to him.
And again and again and again -
The way he heaved himself on top of you, trying to force a child into you so he could be done with you, the way you’d wish it had been Soonyoung instead.
And again and again and again -
The way Soonyoung’s face broke that morning, begging you not to do this to him.
And again and again and again -
All for the Kim family to turn on the Choi’s anyway, wasting the entire time you’ve spent under lock and key, doing Yijun’s bidding while Soonyoung hated you. Loathed you. Wish you never happened to him.
Again and AGAINANDAGAINANDAGAINAND-
Yijun isn’t moving under you. Your hand is warm and wet, the knife becoming slippery as you let it go. It clatters to the floor and you sit backward on his knees. He’s unmoving as you heave, sucking down air that tastes like iron and salt.
Sweat slicks the back of your neck and down your spine. Somewhere in the house, there’s a crashing noise. You leap for the knife, rolling off of Yijun’s mutilated body toward the door, positioning yourself in a defensive position as feet thunder up the stairs.
You bare your teeth, knowing this is it. Knowing Soonyoung hasn’t come quickly enough but it doesn’t matter, because you warned them and they are safe. Your penance for destroying him has been paid in half, though never full, and -
Soonyoung appears in the doorway. He looks like an angel from hell, wreathed in shallow light that comes from the first floor, his silver hair stained with blood. He’s in black trousers and a short-sleeve shirt with his favorite band on it - one of his sleep shirts.
For less than a second, he stares at you. Then, Soonyoung dives at you, dropping the gun in his head and grabbing you. You hadn’t realized that you’d sunk to your knees, looking up at him as he grabs your face, turning you this way and that. He’s asking you a question but you can’t understand him, dizzy and confused and in so much pain that the edge of your vision wavers.
“Baby,” Soonyoung begs, his voice warped and echoey. “Hey, I need you to answer me. Where are you bleeding?”
“S’mostly his,” you answer, feeling how heavy your tongue is. Your thoughts are sticky and slow. Concussed, you think. “Maybe broke my nose.”
Soonyoung’s thumb brushes gently across your cheek, smearing blood. “Can you walk if I help you?” You think about it. Shake your head. “Okay. I’m going to lift you up, alright? Tell me where it hurts so I don’t hurt you, Baby.”
“Ribs.”
“Left or right?”
You pause, breathing in and feeling the pain bloom. “Right.”
“Okay, tell me if I hurt you, okay? We’re going to take you home.”
“Thank you.” Soonyoung hesitates at your tone, looking at you. His eyes are vulnerable and open, more raw than you have seen them since you were kids. “You didn’t have to come get me.”
He stares and stares at you. The world fades a little and Soonyoung lifts you toward him. “Of course I did,” he murmurs, so soft you barely hear what he’s saying. “When you say jump, remember?”
-
“Where's this?” You mumble, looking out the window at a small home behind high gates.
Soonyoung has been driving for an hour and a half, his silence nearly unbearable as you both left the city. You don’t ask about where you’re going or if everyone is okay - you don’t think you can stomach the answers right now. Not while in the car.
Rain mists through the window as Soonyoung rolls it down to punch in a code in front of the gate. It flashes green and the metal starts to roll open, revealing a large but modest house - at least by Syndicate standards. He drives through, gravel crunching beneath the tires.
“Safe House. Very few people know it exists.”
“Are we in Levin?” He nods his head. You’ve never been to the small town, but you know it’s mostly a vacation village on the coast. “Who does this place belong to?”
“Me.” You look at him, surprised. “I bought it when you… got engaged.”
It’s like a stone sinking to the bottom of your stomach. You don’t have to ask why. It was his failsafe for you, a way to get you away from Yijun if you had just asked.
You should have asked. Should have just thrown it away and called him, should have begged him from your knees-
Soonyoung turns the car off and opens the door. You open yours, rain pattering against your red skin. He rushes to help you out of the car, hands hovering around you, unsure where to touch. It makes you want to sob. You want him to touch you anywhere - everywhere.
Instead, he leads you to the house, a hand wrapped firmly around your forearm to keep you upright and steady as you walk up the steps.
A porch light flickers on. You cringe away from the brightness, squinting through your fingers as the door opens to reveal Vernon standing on the other side. His eyes flicker between the two of you and he nods, stepping to the side to let you in.
Warmth blankets you as Soonyoung shuts the door. You’re standing in a small entryway with a staircase to the right leading to the second floor. Straight on, the lights are on, revealing a sliver of the living room. You can hear voices pause as they hear the door shut.
Angel materializes in the doorway, her hair damp. She’s dressed down like she recently showered, her eyes on you as she heaves a sigh of relief. “It’s Hoshi and Baby,” she calls over her shoulder, coming forward.
Soonyoung nudges you toward Angel gently. “Take her to shower.”
“Yeah of course.”
“Where’s Seungcheol?” You ask, turning to look at Soonyoung, who is already looking at his phone, holoscreen lighting up his face.
“On his way. The main crew is safe.” He hesitates. “We lost Lan, Old Man Vero and Yoon Minji.”
Your heart seizes, eyes darting to Angel. “Angel, I’m-”
“Jeonghan is taking care of it.” For the first time in years, you hear a note of pain in her voice, raw and real. Angel has - had - a complicated relationship with her step-mother, the matriarch of the Yoong family. “I’ve already satiated my vengeance. This is his. Come on.”
You hesitate. Soonyoung nudges you toward the stairs gently by the hip, suddenly looking tired. “Go. I’m going to find a doctor for that nose.”
“Is it terrible?”
He huffs, trying not to laugh. “No, but it needs to be fixed. Go. Shower.”
I love you. It’s on the tip of your tongue, right there. I love you. It’s all you can think about, thundering in your ribcage. I love you. It consumes you, makes you freeze up, staring at him. I love you.
Angel tugs your wrist delicately and breaks the spell. You follow her up the stairs. She’s careful with you, making you take one step at a time. You don’t think you’ve ever seen her so gentle, her eyes softened with worry and her touch on you delicate as butterfly wings.
Upstairs, she leads you into a room that smells like vanilla and sandalwood. Soonyoung. This room belongs to Soonyoung. You spot his subtle touches, a gaming computer shoved in the corner and powered off. A closet with a metal door that is under lock and key. A single gun sitting on top of the nightstand.
But what makes the room spin is the touches of you. A teakwood candle sitting on the dresser. Weighted blankets folded at the end of the bed. A bookshelf with all your favorite titles. A jar of saltwater taffy in multiple flavors.
Angel hesitates by the bathroom door, watching you drink in the room. You turn to her, shaking your head, confused and mouth open. She nods. “I know. I didn’t know either.”
“I could live and die a thousand times and never deserve him.”
“I’m not the best judge of character, but I don’t think I believe that to be true.”
Angel isn’t the best judge of character. But she also doesn’t say things she does not mean. She’s the last person in the world to offer words of comfort, and yet she’s standing in the bathroom staring at you like she can see through you, right down to the very core.
Maybe she can. Seeing what is rotting people on the inside and sniffing out their weaknesses is what she does best.
Instead of pointing out where you hurt, she manages to get you into the bathroom. It’s spacious but not grand like what you’re used to - it’s small. Safe. She starts the shower and backs away, helping you get out of your bloody clothing.
Everything hurts so bad. Your ribs ache, the bruising on them blotchy and horrendous as Angel peels back your shirt. She thankfully doesn’t react - she’s seen worse and done worse. Suddenly, you realize why Soonyoung picked her to help you. She’s steady, her fingers sure as she holds your arm while you pull your pants down.
You don’t dare look in the mirror. From what you can see without it, it’s already bad enough. Yijun hadn’t dealt fatal damage, but you know you’re bruised and covered in dry, flaking blood.
Angel leaves you in the shower, shutting the door to go sit on the sink, a guardian willing to give you space but ready to help when you need it. Shaking, you shuffle into the stream of hot water, hissing when it hits your skin.
It’s both heaven and hell. The hot water feels so good on your aching muscles and throbbing pain, but it also hurts when the water taps against your nose, reminding you that it is indeed broken. You suck in sharp air as you slowly begin to work your fingers into your skin, turning the water pink as you wash off the blood.
Blood that belongs to you. Blood that belongs to Yijun.
Yijun.
You’re not sorry you killed him. It was satisfying and necessary. But… the weight of your grief comes crashing into you. You could have killed him years ago and ran. Could have gone crawling back to Soonyoung and asked for his help. Could have told him that the only reason you ever agreed to marry him in the first place was to protect him.
None of it mattered. You bought him a paltry couple years worth of protection and for what? To shackle yourself to a man who thought little of you, who wanted to fuck you until you gave him another version of himself, who wanted to kill you at every moment because he knew you didn’t respect him and because he was afraid of you and the way you command respect from your family, but he never did.
All that time you’d made yourself smaller for him. Held back your bite. Hid your teeth. Mourned Soonyoung everyday, knowing that you’d never touch him again, that he would never kiss you again, that you’d never wake up in the morning when he got home from work and crawled into bed with you.
A potential lifetime of happiness, one of your own making, wasted on a promise that they broke anyway.
For nothing. It had been for nothing, you’d hurt Soonyoung for nothing, shut him out, promised you would never leave him and threw him away, forced him to jump for you, forced him to leave you when he said he wouldn’t all for nothing nothing nothing nothing notHING NOTHINGNOTHINGNOTHINGNOTHING-
Angel’s arms are around you. You startle, looking up to see that she is in the shower fully clothed, holding you to her. You hadn’t realized you’d been crying - screaming - in the shower. She presses you closer to her, the only way she knows how to tell you that she’s got you. She’s there. She understands.
You crumble, leaning heavily on her as you let it out, sobbing. Your throat is raw, your face throbbing each time you squeeze your eyes shut. Angel says nothing, content to hold you while her clothes soak up the water, weighing her down as you let out your grief in full, ugly waves.
Eventually, the water starts to get cold and your tears start to dry up. You sniff and groan, the pain in your face so poignant that it can’t be ignored. Lifting your head from her shoulder, you glance at her boots, soaked and murky red around the edges.
“Can I tell you something?” Angel asks, voice low. You nod. She hesitates, putting the words together before she says, “He’s going to accept you back. He’s going to do it with no conditions, and ask nothing of you. You’re going to want to torture yourself and beg for his forgiveness and deny yourself of him because you think you should be punished, that there is not a god powerful enough to hurt you the way you deserve.”
You blink in surprise. Angel isn’t religious, despite the nickname. She also isn’t overly emotional or wordy. But you see the severity in which she tells you this, see the pain in her eyes. You remember that she has demons far older than yours, ones that have followed her since childhood.
And she’s right. She reads you like a book, seeing the fucking pain radiating inside of you, the desire to be punished and hated and whipped-
“Let him take you back.” Her words are firm. “Don’t make him punish you. Don’t believe for a second that Soonyoung wants to make you pay. He doesn’t. He doesn’t care what you did or why. Just… let him have you. You’ve endured enough.”
You nod. “Alright. I’ll try.”
“Good. Um - can we get out of the shower though? It’s very cold in here.”
You laugh, immediately followed by a groan. “Please don’t make me laugh. I am in so much pain.”
“Yeah, let’s go get you some drugs, dude.”
-
The three Syndicates of the city are officially at war. Of all the news that has poured in over the last few days, this is the least surprising. When you’d seen Seungcheol that first night after everything went to hell, he’d held you close and promised that he would kill every last Kim in the city.
He had also told you he was proud of you. Not just for surviving Yijun long enough for Soonyoung to come get you, but for being able to warn the family what was coming. Your single warning alone had saved them a great deal and wounded the Kim Syndicate more than you could understand.
The days following your father’s death are strange. It doesn’t feel like he’s dead - at least, you haven’t truly processed it yet. There are things that demand your attention like being seen by Dr. Ymir for your fractured nose and bruised ribs, and the accounts and logistics of what being at war with the Kim and Yong family truly means.
On the fifth day at the safe house, you go back home. Seungcheol makes you ride with him, unwilling to let you out of his sight these days. You’re the only two members of the Choi family left, and it’s up to the two of you to rally the troops and remind everyone what the mountain can do.
Seungcheol replaces your father as the Tower of the Choi Syndicate. Typically there’s a small ceremony to pass the torch so to speak, but there’s no time for that. Seungcheol is buried in problems and trying to maneuver the family into a favorable position, but it’s hard - the Yongs and Kims have been preparing this for a while.
You’re suddenly given a job again. Fresh in his position leading the family, Seungcheol needs those he trusts by his side, immediately appointing you as the Architect of the Syndicate. There’s no one he trusts more with the finances and the logistics of the businesses under the Choi banner and who have pledged to his family.
With Yoon Minji’s death, Jeonghan’s takes his rightful side as the Wisdom and second in command to Seungcheol. It’s like you’d always known it would be as a kid, but it brings you no joy to see the two of them together in an office until the early hours of the morning, worn at the edges and sick with the grief they’re ignoring to push forward.
With no surprise, Seungcheol immediately promotes Soonyoung to the lead military position, rising from Sword to Sentinel in a single night. It’s the same position his father held under your father, and Soonyoung takes it with steely resolve.
It also means you don’t see him. You move back into your old room at home. At first, it doesn’t feel like your room at all because Soonyoung isn't in it. He had moved into your room when you first started dating, spending two years in that bed with you. Now, he’s taken up residence in his room down the hall, so close and yet the distance feels larger than ever.
Of all the problems mounting for you to solve, Soonyoung is the most important. You know he shouldn’t be. There are a thousand other things that you need to figure out, like how to assure that the businesses you own in and near the Kim and Yong family territories won’t go under or be attacked, or how to assure that payment to the family won’t increase now that there’s a fight.
Your days are filled with countless meetings, assuring loyal patrons that the Choi Syndicate will not fall and will not fail them, and that the Choi’s protect their own. You can see the fear in people’s eyes - the city hasn’t had the big three at war in a long time. Already the city officials are cracking down on Syndicate activity to try and establish order.
It’s farcical at best.
Squeezing your temples between your fingers, you lean back from the desk in your newly appointed office - which is really just your father’s. It feels weird to be in here. It still smells like leather and sweet tobacco, a little bit of smoke hanging in the air.
The last time you’d been in this office, you’d fallen to your knees and begged him not to make you marry Kim Yijun. Now you sit at the desk, hanging up the phone as another call ends - not as bad as the first, but not as good as you’d hoped.
Quickly, you scribble down a summary of the call to give to Seungcheol. You know he’ll read every word you write, determined to hear each concern of those under Choi patronage, whether they’re valid or not.
At the sound of the door opening, you glance up. Soonyoung sticks his head in, surprising you. You straighten in your seat, heart racing when you take him in. His silver hair has grown longer, tapered a bit at the neck. He’s dressed in all black but he’s clean, indicating that he showered not that long ago. You thought he would be out all day like usual, looking at your watch to see he’s back far earlier than normal.
“Is everything alright?” You start to get up and he rushes to you, hands lifting to help you. “I’m alright. I am well on the mend.”
He chews his lip, nodding before dropping his hands hesitantly. “Everything’s fine I just.” He hesitates. “Do you want to eat lunch?”
“Oh. Sure.”
Soonyoung’s smile is tentative. Shy. You give him one back, following him out of the office while sending a quick note to Jihoon that you’ll meet with him later. He sends a thumbs down back, less than pleased that you’ve not made time to talk to him about your potential murder charges for Yijun.
“Are you busy? We don’t have to-”
“It’s just Jihoon.”
“Ah. He’s persistent, are you sure-”
“I want to have lunch with you, Soonyoung.”
He blushes and you grin. “Alright,” he murmurs. “When you say jump and all that.”
That makes you pause. “You don’t have to do anything I tell you.”
“What?” He stops walking, confused.
“You don’t have to ask how high if I tell you to jump... I’m wrong a lot of the time. I don’t… want to be that.”
I don’t want to repeat my mistakes. You don’t say it, but you think Soonyoung senses it when he says, “I’ve always wanted to jump for you. That hasn’t changed.”
Let him take you back. Don’t make him punish you.
Angel’s words come back to you so you swallow down your guilt and you nod, giving him a tentative smile that he returns. This time, he holds out his hand to take you in the kitchen. You take it, the feeling of his fingers wrapping around yours both foreign and familiar.
The way he holds your hand in his makes you tremble. It’s something so simple and benign and yet you’re screaming on the inside, looking at where your fingers twine together like it’s everything, like it’s the only thing.
Lunch consists of very badly burned grilled cheese. You don’t care because Soonyoung makes it, insistent that he wants to and that he can. He’s good at a lot of things, particularly on the spectrum of murder and weapons, but he is terrible at putting bread, cheese and butter in a pan.
You eat it anyway, burnt bread and all. He sits next to you, his stool pulled so close that your thighs touch. You want to reach out and brush your fingers across his face, down his neck, through his hair. You want to touch until you’re grabbing, grab until you’re pulling.
Instead, you let him lead this dance, too afraid to initiate.
Let him take you back. Don’t make him punish you.
You don’t, but you can’t let go of the fear of rejection. Can’t bring yourself to toe the line beyond what he’s giving you, which is more than you ever dreamed of. So you accept when he offers to take your plate, fingers brushing over the top of your hand either by design or by accident you don’t know. His touch makes you shiver and he notices, pausing.
Slowly, you look up at Soonyoung. His eyes are dark and misty as ever, churning with emotion that you’re a little too afraid to read. Instead of taking the plates to the sink, he sets them down and reaches for you, cradling your face in his hands.
A sob works its way up your throat but you force it down. You will not cry over this. You will not make him comfort you.
“Are you afraid to touch me?” His question is gentle. You nod, eyes fluttering shut as his thumb brushes back and forth across your cheekbone. “Why?”
“I… want to so badly. I just want it to be your choice.”
“I want you to.” You open your eyes. His earnestness is right on the surface of him, rippling for you to see. “I’m dying for it. Please.”
Soonyoung’s please sounds like that morning he’d begged you all that time ago. It freezes you in place, heart beating like a prey animal in fight or flight. He steps closer, his breath on your forehead when he whispers, “Please.”
Slowly, you bring your hands up to his wrists. Licking your lips, you place your hands on him. His eyes close. His skin is warm to the touch and you feel him tremble as you brush your hands upward, tracing his forearms, his corded biceps. You brush your fingertips over the sleeves of his shirt and toward his neck until you’re cupping his throat, your thumbs resting against his hammering pulse.
You close your eyes, remaining still. Both of you remain that way, his hands on your face, yours on his neck. You’re shaking under his touch, feel his breath against your forehead. His fingers add a little pressure to your face, careful not to hurt you where your bruise is finally fading on your nose as he turns you to look up at him.
Soonyoung licks his lips, eyes open. “There is not a second I didn’t love you.”
And there it is. The admission that he never hated you. You bet he tried - you know he tried. You know the inside of Soonyoung’s soul better than you know your own, no part of him hidden to you even with time.
“I don’t care why you did it,” he continues. “Not anymore. Not after everything. I don’t care about any of it. I just… want you.”
“Soonyoung-”
“I know you’re sorry. I know you hate yourself. I know there is guilt eating away at you. Get over it, because none of it changes how I feel. I love you. You’re mine. I don’t want to leave you again. You cannot make me.”
“I know. I won’t make you.”
“Good.” Soonyoung presses his forehead to yours gently. He’s careful not to knock noses with you too hard, aware of the pain it’ll cause. “I cannot do any of this without you.”
“I know.”
Soonyoung’s mouth is tentative when it presses against yours. Your grip on him tightens, leaning forward into the kiss. It is everything - the only thing. You feel something wet on your face, thinking that you’ve got another nosebleed, but when you pull away, you realize it’s because Soonyoung is crying.
Crying for the first time since his parents died.
You stand up from the stool, gripping the back of his neck to pull him toward you. He melts under your touch, letting you meld your mouths together. He tastes like his burnt sandwich and like him, his mouth warm and wet against yours. Vanilla and sandalwood invade your senses, overwhelming as you grip him for dear life, never wanting to let him go.
He doesn’t want to let you go either. His grip on your hips is crushing, fingers digging into flesh and bone as though he can force you to become one. The thought makes you dizzy. You slide your fingers in his silk-soft hair, wrapping the strands around them to pull lightly, pull him closer, pull him to you, pull him back.
Soonyoung whines against your mouth and you break the kiss, panting. “Take me upstairs,” you whisper between peppering kissing against his mouth, his bottom lip, the corner of his lips. “Please take me upstairs.”
He does. Soonyoung grabs you by the hands, tugging you toward the stairs that lead to your room - the room you used to share. The room that still smells like him, even if faintly. He takes you to your bed, where you’ve spent hundreds of nights with him, and lays you down gently like he has a million times before.
Soonyoung touches you like you’re holy. His hands skim over you in worship, they scratch you in penance, they hold you in reverence. He slots himself between your knees, stealing a kiss from you like it’ll breathe new life into him, bare him anew, purge him of sin.
You love him. You love him you love him you love him you love him you love him -
A moan leaves his mouth when your nails drag down his back. He is quaking under your touch, his mouth hungry but careful against yours, wanting to swallow you whole but knowing you’re hurt. You know he won’t break you but you wish he would.
There’s time for that later. Now isn’t the time for rough and biting. Now, Soonyoung peels the shirt from your skin, immediately covering your arms, chest, collarbones, shoulders in kisses. You vibrate under his touch, lashes fluttering as he sucks at the sensitive skin of your neck, tongue pressed flat to your pulse as he tastes you.
You tug at his shirt and he complies, leaning upward to toss it. He’s back on you in a second, pressing you close, hip to hip as he tangles his tongue with yours, drinking you in. His touch ignites a fire and you’re burning, a complete inferno as you drag your fingers up the hard contour of his stomach to the firmness of his chest and around to his shoulders.
“I love you,” he mutters against your mouth, rolling his hips into you. You let out a breathy sound and he groans. “Fuck I love you. I missed you. I love you.”
“Please,” you beg. He understands, burying his face in your neck and biting down lightly. You feel like you’re going to burn up under him, an out of control blaze while his fingers work the buttons on your pants. “Never let me go.”
“Never.”
Jeans scrape down your legs, his hands following. He drags his blunt nails down your thighs. Your hips twitch upward, loving the scratch, loving the way he touches you, loving him. He returns his mouth to yours, unable to get enough of your kissing.
Soonyoung’s hand slips between your thighs, the pads of his fingers pressing against your clit through your underwear. You keen for him, pulling at the long strands of hair at the back of his neck. He moans in tandem, his pleasure driven by yours, loving the way you sound as you start to come apart under the gentle circle of his fingers.
He only teases you a little, knowing the friction with the fabric between his fingers and your aching cunt isn’t enough. He finally decides that you’ve had enough, hooking a finger to pull them aside, the cool air hitting your sticky folds.
Before you can complain, Soonyoung’s touch is there. He drags his fingers slow-soft from top to bottom, circling your clit slowly. He’s not in a hurry, dragging it out as he sucks your tongue into his mouth, sliding his fingers back down to press against your entrance but not breach it.
You whine and he grins, pulling your bottom lip with his teeth until he lets go with a pop. “I love those sounds you make.”
“Feels good,” you admit, head falling to the side as you close your eyes, enjoying the pressure he puts on your clit, wiggling his fingers back and forth. Your thighs close around his hand but he’s unbothered, drawing more arousal from you as he plays. “Fuck, your fingers.”
His laugh is throaty and he shakes his head, attaching his mouth to your jaw where he sucks at the skin. He makes himself comfortable with nibbling toward your neck, both of his hands reaching for the sides of your underwear to pull them down. You let him, folding your knees toward your for a moment to help.
Soonyoung’s hand returns to the wetness between your legs except this time, he’s not teasing. He presses a finger in deep and you whine, hips wiggling. You squeeze down on his finger, pussy spasming as he begins to pump leisurely, like he has all the time in the world.
And he does, doesn’t he? The work is far from done and the world is falling apart, but it doesn’t matter because he’s here with you. Because Soonyoung is yours again - always has been - and because he’s drawing your mouth toward his to kiss you messily, swallowing down your moans as he presses in another finger.
Now you crumble beneath him. You can’t stop your hips from coming off the bed. You loop your arms around his neck, keeping him close, breathing the same air. He presses his forehead to yours, eyes impossible dark and half-lidded as he hooks his fingers, dragging them against that sensitive spot.
You cry out his name and he grins. Now he knows where it is, pressing repeatedly as he fucks you on his fingers, driving you directly toward an orgasm. Your breathing becomes labored, your legs squeezing his hips, your fingers digging into his shoulders. It is so good that you think you might die, letting him yank you toward release.
Soonyoung kisses you again and you come crashing down, cumming around his fingers, body squeezing, ignoring the ache in your ribs and the millions of other places that you’re sore. He doesn’t slow down, scissoring his fingers to pry you open, to stretch you more.
“Soonyoung,” you gasp, voice wrecked. “Soonyoung Soonyoung Soonyoung.”
“Just like that,” he agrees. You can tell he loves the way you say his name, knows that on your tongue it means something different. “Come on, one more.”
You’ll give him anything he wants. Never again will you deny him. You let him work you up again, feeling the way your breath gets stuck in your lungs and you shiver, another wave washing through you as you shudder around his fingers.
When you start to pant, he pulls his fingers out. You feel the wet schlick as he does, immediately hating the way you feel empty, hating the way he leans away from you. Whining, you reach out toward him, needy. He hushes you with a brief kiss, only standing to rid himself of his jeans and briefs.
Using the fingers covered in your arousal, Soonyoung pumps his cock, smearing a mixture of your slick and his precum down his shaft as he kneels on the bed again, taking his place between your thighs again. You watch with hooded eyes as he rubs the head of his cock through your messy folds, a moan dripping from your lips.
Soonyoung is beautiful, skin flushed and a sheen of sweat on his arms. His stomach flexes and clenches as he presses the tip of his cock into your entrance, both of you taking a shaky breath together. He slowly slides home, the stretch of him driving you wild, pussy fluttering around him until he’s slotted to the hilt.
He hangs his head, panting as he plants his hands on either side of your head. He takes a moment to collect himself, shaking. You turn your head to the side, kissing his wrist, peppering any skin you can reach with your love while your hands drift up his back, feeling the muscles flex.
When he begins to move, you nearly die. It feels so good, your breath lodged in your throat. He lowers his face to yours, kissing you as gently as he fucks you. His thrusts are deep and timed, not hard or fast but slow and measured, pressing all the way in as he uses his weight to his advantage.
Your fingers turn to talons on his back, nails biting his shoulder blades. He’s precise, the tip of his cock finding the right angle to make you nearly sob in a matter of a few thrusts. It’s familiar. Home.
Soonyoung lowers himself to his forearms, pressing your chests together. The friction of his skin against your pert nipples makes you squeeze around him, his name a whisper on swollen, kiss-bitten lips. He presses his forehead to yours, breathing shakily as he continues to fuck you.
You feel him everywhere, feel everything that he wants to say. Soonyoung has never needed words to communicate to you and he doesn’t now, the way he shakes as he lets out a wispy moan enough, the way he slides one of his arms under your back to cradle you to his chest, closer closer closer.
He wants to be closer and so do you, arms around his neck, drawing him to you. You never want to let him go, never will let him go. You’ve learned your lesson and this, right here with him is the only thing that matters.
“Shh,” he hushes. You realize you’re crying, tasting salt on your lips when he brushes his mouth against yours. “I know.”
“I love you.”
“I know.”
Soonyoung’s pace picks up only a little bit. It’s enough, sending you careening toward your third orgasm. He can feel it - needs it. He chases after your high, catching your mouth to brush his tongue against yours, rolling his hips until you’re clenching around him, whining into his mouth, lips buzzing against his.
He hums against you, waiting until your pussy lets go of its vice grip to speed up a little bit, the wet smack of his hips against yours loud and lewd, driving him forward until he comes, your name on his lips, his face buried in your neck. His thrusts slow, both of you trembling like leaves until he finally stops, remaining seated inside of you.
“I will love you for a thousand lifetimes,” he mutters against your mouth, with no intention of moving. “You know that, right Baby?”
You nod, fingers digging into his shoulder blades. “Leave me at your own peril, Kwon Soonyoung,” you rasp, quoting yourself that first night he finally caved, where he finally told you that he couldn’t exist without you. “I will never go anywhere ever again.”
Another day…another hour spent crying about these stories. I can’t get over how well written this is🥹 seriously sometimes I come onto this app and can’t find a story that sticks out to me but this had me SEATEDDD throughout the whole read.
Synopsis. On campus? Choso Kamo’s the sweet, shy nerd you share film class with - the one who can barely meet your eyes without blushing. Online? Choso Kamo is really @cursed(your)wombz—the #1 streamer on C4mBoyfriends with 820k followers to see his…nine inches. And he might just be looking for a partner.
Pairing. Choso Kamo x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem!reader, streamer!Choso, (sort of) B́J Alex AU, cámboy!Choso, college AU, he’s a nerd, film nerd!Choso, secret identities, masks, píercings (ears, tóngue, D), tattoos, chat, streaming, you’re a fan, identity reveal, exhíbitíonism, oraI (fem rec.), again PlERCINGS, tongue f, spítting, p sIapping, p talking, letting the viewers choose, fíngering with rings, overstím, dúmbifícation, Jacob’s Ladder, rough s, fiIthy s, he’s sIightly mean, tummy buIges, making it fit, pressing down, talking you through it, cIit pinching, pússydrúnk Choso, matíng presses, chokíng, manhandIing, mocking, sIight níppIe stim, creampíes, chat Iove you, cúmpIay, getting together, Phantom of the Opera references, pet names, swéaring.
Word count. 14.9k
A/N. Hehehehehe-
Sunday was the night you’d found him; sprawled out on your bed and thumbing through the Internet. Some glitzy pop song you couldn’t name blasted from your speakers, and the room was saturated in the tingly excitement of having speedy Wi-Fi, no assignments, and the night to yourself. LED lights pink.
You’re checking some of your messages - doling out a few hearts, a few reposts - when that bell-shaped button bursts in blue. A new notification.
@cursed(your)wombz liked your repost.
It was on a photograph of the Sun—big and yellow, seemingly melting over a grey horizon.
Which was perfectly ordinary- this was the Internet, after all. And though your list of followers was modest, of course you’d interact with a stranger here and there.
The problem was in the way the notification disappeared as soon as it came.
An…accident maybe? This person had liked and unliked your repost. And without a second thought, you’re typing their username into the search bar.
And clicking on their profile.
@cursed(your)wombz huh?
He had a pitch-black profile picture and a layout with nothing of note, a banner as equally colorless and unnotable, and a simple bio stating:
I know what you want…
- C.
And beneath that was a link.
It stood out stark against the black background. You don’t click on it, of course- for fear of being something malicious, you’re avoiding it like you’d avoid a minefield.
You’ve already heard one too many horror stories on here about such things. One click and you’d find your address posted somewhere. Instead, your eyes drop to the number of followers he had…and your eyebrows are immediately shooting up.
0 Following.
581k Followers.
Now that makes you blink.
Okay- alright, maybe it wasn’t the most astounding number you’ve ever seen throughout your expansive time on the Internet - but it was still niche celebrity-status. Especially on this app. Especially to be stalking an account like yours…where all you did was repost the stray picture of a pretty landscape or yell into the aether about your missing assignments for your friends to comment on.
Now that was a little strange.
And so you’re scrolling down.
And you never quite know what you’re in for whenever you enter the realm of a person’s account—fanfiction with tags you never knew existed, one part of an argument on social media that really shouldn’t exist, mpreg.
Which was all fine and dandy to be quite honest- you just never expect to be met with the most beautiful man you’ve ever laid eyes on.
The first picture you’re seeing- pinned.
Posted just an hour ago. It’s a mirror selfie taken at a low angle; of a man with his body angled towards the lens and his phone covering his face. In nothing but a towel. With nothing but his chiselled body. His beefy arms flexed as he takes the picture, biceps rippled with a few veins—though still lean and almost smooth to the touch. Pierced nipples. Defined abs. Your eyes linger on the sparse dusting of dark hair leading below, below, below his fluffy white towel…
The picture cuts off just a few inches past his navel. You know because you’re enlarging it.
The photo is almost vampiric in nature.
Somehow.
Dimly-lit. Beautiful—he clearly knew his angles and lighting. It’s slightly blurry and you can’t make out much of the man’s features - nothing more than the slender length of his fingers, silver rings, and the outline of his dark (perhaps brown?) hair. Touching his shoulders. From just above the hem of his towel, the amorphous blur of a tattoo snakes down his left v-line - and no matter how much you’re zooming in, you can’t quite figure out what it is.
Something twists at the pit of your stomach as you’re latching your eyes onto the very obvious bulge he was sporting through the towel - very.
The flash created a shadow of his lengthy cock—oh. Hanging between thick thighs, heavy and needy. And it also illuminated the slight dampness clinging onto his body; perhaps he’d just gotten out of the shower, or was about to take on after a workout.
Whichever scenario it was, both made your thighs clench- fuck.
Fingers slightly shaky, you’re exiting out of the picture and scrolling down for more.
The next post is a video seemingly taken from the very same instance: it was from the point of view of the beautiful man. Facing downwards, as he zoomed the camera in on his bulge and ran one vein-covered, ringed hand down his abs- down his pelvis- down to that throbbing erection and squeezed himself through his towel.
And then through your speakers echoes out the most pornographic moan.
Thank goodness your dorm had thick walls.
And that’s when you decide that you’ve seen enough.
Not enough as in enough enough to block this strange man and move on with your life- of course, not. As quickly as your fingers would possibly let you, you’re exiting out of the video and scrolling up to a bio that seemed to have more to hide than the first time you read through it.
The link stands mockingly stark - almost winking at you - against the dark background. You think you know what it is.
And you click on it.
Suddenly, your laptop screen’s flooding with a gaudy pink color. A loading circle swivels in the middle of it for a few seconds, before you’re met with a logo in swooping, slanted black script: C4mBoyfriends. Better than that boy in your dms.
Rapidly, you’re opening up a new tab and typing in the name.
“C4mBoyfriends is an adult streaming platform that hosts webcam performers that choose to label themselves as male. Here they can stream live video, post photographs, and interact on forums with a wide array of paying viewers—for a range of content catering to specific niches or sexual roleplays. C4mBoyfriends, since its recent launch, has shot up in the industry as one of the most-visited adult sites and the safest for its performers. All cuts go to the performers themselves and the site runs on separate donations from its audience.”
Ah- you’d guessed right.
Excitement burbles at the pit of your stomach for a few seconds. You’re clicking back onto the tab with the pink logo, and finding that it’d stopped loading.
It was in the layout of a streaming device, with static images of ongoing streams on one side of the platform, and different pages listed out on top. But what took up the majority of your screen was the vision of the very same man from before- from the mirror selfie, from the video.
This time, it was a stream.
@cursed(your)wombz is streaming—#1 streamer on C4mBoyfriends [101 week streak]. [Only solo]. Your internet boyfriend <3
0 Subscribed.
820k Subscribers.
455k Currently watching.
This time, he had his towel lifted up and his hands fisted around his fat cock.
Perfectly angled.
Your jaw drops. He was about eight- maybe more inches, though you weren’t in the state to count. Way too entranced by the way his veiny, ring-decorated hands were wrapped around his cock. Large. He was just so loooong and standing tall between wide-spread legs, shiverin’ every time he’s gliding his hand up and down. Up and down.
Again and again.
Getting faster by the second before he arches-
The edge of his thumb’s reaching for his ruby-red crown—then smearing the glistening liquid that just kept on foaming from the top. He lathers it upon his palm and drags it down his hot erection, making every inch gleam underneath the off-camera lighting.
You’re clicking on a button to increase your volume.
And just in time, too, because then he snakes his left hand down and squeezes his heavy balls- letting out a botched groan that leaves your shorts oh-so-wet.
Deep and guttural; there’s a slight quiver in them as he whispers. “F-fuck.” Just so full and sensitive—the man’s head tips backwards and his hips buck off the cushioned chair. Sluttily. As though he was fucking something invisible. It’s creaking ever-so-slightly as he settles back down, composing himself just a little bit before he starts cumming.
Pearly white droplets of cum.
Beading from the very top of his shaft - where he was the most pink n’ angry - shaking as he empties out. Globs of it start to glide down his length, and a few more collect where his silver Prince Albert’s piercing was positioned right beneath his mushroomy tip.
You’re just letting your eyes linger upon that little heap of satiny sap, when the man thumbs upwards and smears that, too. Such a mess.
And you think that might be all- but then he’s reaching his non-dominant hand upwards and pressing down on his frothing cockhead. Stopping himself from cumming - and as he leans to the side, you swear you’re glimpsing the twinkle of even more piercings on the upper side of his shaft. Was that…a Jacob’s ladder?
You’re rendered so damn speechless that you almost don’t register him speaking- “Awwww, did my pretty sluts wanna watch me cum?”
A shiver runs down your spine at the hitched tone of his voice- drunk on lust. He’s slightly slurring. So alluring, you almost catch yourself nodding.
“Well, too bad.” The man meanly snickers, before he’s suddenly reaching out with his non-dominant hand and angling it higher. The screen shifts to display that very same mouth-watering body from the picture—though, this time with the addition of a black-and-white mask that covered his features from forehead to his sharp jawline.
The only opening in it was a concave cutout for his mouth - almost reminiscent of a Phantom of the Opera mask. In the background was a clearly expensive bedroom of a clearly expensive home - far different from your single dorm - an artwork that you couldn’t name on the wall behind him. Something like a photograph or a portrait. Something about it was so precise- so cinematic. Like watching a movie scene. He continues, “Because you know why? You don’t deserve it.”
There’s a flurry of comments on one side of the screen, so fast that you wonder how he reads it.
“Didn’t I tell you to spam me with your nastiest stories in the chat?” He asks, and from beneath his mask you catch the outline of dark eyes shifting down those hurried words. Those needy comments. “None of you are nasty enough, so none of you get to see me cum…”
You’re tearing your eyes off of him to peruse what they were saying.
@girrrrrrrrrrth: nuuuuuu please, curse! i’ll get on my knees!!
@vampzo333: me too ME TOO
@likezmenpregnant: My story about the body pillow wasn’t nasty enough? TT
@CCpervnextdoor: AWWWW I’m begging~
@Curse’swifey: I’LL PAY YOU EXTRA PLEASEEEEEEE
@Curse’swifey donated 500 cherries.
“Tch- what a desperate bunch. Just fucking look at yourselves…” And though his words weren’t in the least bit nice, you couldn’t deny just how badly he made your cunt twinge.
Curse…that’s what his name was, huh?
You’re squeezing your thighs together- your sleep shorts were definitely soaked.
Curse rolls out the kinks in his neck just a little, and stares down at the camera with a crooked grin. “But that’s not gonna be enough. I said to be nasty- so be nasty.” The active chat becomes nothing but a blur once more: pleas, donations, stories half-typed in their urgency. “And in return I’ll moan whatever name you want me to moan when I cum.”
Before you know it, you’re opening up the sign-up page in a new tab.
Keeping Curse’s livestream playing in the background as you zip through your details. You’re picking out a username for yourself: Ietsmakeamovie and hastily going back to the ongoing stream with your newfound handle. Was it too obvious to make it the same username as your other account? The one that he had stalked?
Fuck- you’re too wound up to think of something else at this point. You decide that you’ll change it later…
Luckily, Curse’s stream didn’t have a paying threshold before you could comment. And you’re jittery with excitement as you pull the laptop closer to yourself and start typing out something—hitting send before you could overthink it.
@Ietsmakeamovie: Seeing you is the first time I’ve gotten this wet.
Curse’s eyes drift down the chat, and he seems to latch onto something. Eyes widening just a fraction.
“The first time?”
Fuck.
You’re feeling a jolt at the way he addresses you - never expecting him to pick out that comment amongst tens of thousands of others that were uttering even filthier things. Curse leans in and speaks with his deep tone, “Those other boys didn’t know how to treat a perfect pussy like yours, huh? This is why they call me the Internet boyfriend, baby.”
@Ietsmakeamovie: Yeah.
@Ietsmakeamovie: Fuck, you’re so hot.
@Ietsmakeamovie: I don’t even wanna look away to touch myself.
You feel embarrassed typing it all out - but you console yourself with the notion that no one here knows who you are. And you don’t know anyone here, either.
Curse leans back and starts pumping his cock even harder—taking his left hand off the drivelling top. His milky-white precum is frenzied n’ sticks to his hand like glue, and the chat grows more and more excited as Curse’s actions do the same.
“That’s alright, baby, you don’t have to finger yourself.” He chuckles, eyes locked on the comments. “I’d be doing that for you if I was there.”
@Ietsmakeamovie: Wish you were. You’d reach so much deeper.
@Ietsmakeamovie donated 1000 cherries.
“Fuh-fuck—” He hisses, head throwing back in his chair. You take the time to admire the lines of his prominent Adam’s apple - the way it bobs every time he’s taking a shaky swallow. “No need to donate or anything, baby, just keep- ngh, talking t’me like this and that’s enough…”
@0003h0lesforCurse: holy shit. i’ve never seen him like this.
@CCpervnextdoor: Needy Curse I like it~
@bewbsRlife: KEEP GOING OP KEEP GOING!!
You giggle to yourself.
@Ietsmakeamovie: Enough to make you cum, Curse?
“Greedy, greedy girl…” Through the slightest gaps in his mask you’re catching the way his nose crinkles in amusement. A wolfish smile. “S’that what you all want?”
The chat explodes in agreement.
He cocks his head, “Movie?”
Was that your new nickname now? Hastily, you reply-
@Ietsmakeamovie: Mhm.
“Well then…” He grins, toned body arching off the chair. “Get ready for a show—” Darkened gaze narrowing at the comments, “And you better not take your eyes off of me for a single second- hump your damn pillows if you have to. I don’t care.”
Quickly grabbing your own puffy pillow, you’re stuffing it between your legs.
Right as Curse lets his head loll backwards- and his cum drizzles out of his cock. He’s been edging the poor viewers and overstimulatin’ himself for so fucking long now—all it takes is a few pumps to let the cascade of white coat his hands and his rings. Just the slightest bit of silver peaking through.
Hard and fast.
The man’s cockhead flushes even redder as he drags his high out deliciously. Every burst of dopamine. Every heaving pant. Every pretty moan escaping him.
It seems to be ramming into him in waves- gooey ribbons of seed coat his digits. Getting smeared like a gloss across eeeeevery single inch, ridge, and vein—and since Curse’s pace was something furious, a few globs of cum splatter across the towel and onto his thighs. A mess that he’s seeming to love.
Because in the next few seconds, he’s wrung out just the final bits of pleasure in him- and is raising his cum-coated fingers up to his mouth and sucking. Staring straight into the camera lens as he does so.
You’re watching slack-jawed as those long, lacquered digits disappear between his lips. Finishin’ them off squeaky clean and letting his head tip to the side.
He mouths, “Movie—”
Part of your username.
Though you hadn’t asked for him to moan your name, as he’d promised to do to one of the viewers had they been nasty enough. And this special treatment…
Maybe he did it to every new viewer. Maybe he just liked how much you complimented him- though everyone else did, too. Either way, it’s perhaps what sets off the bursts of electricity between your legs—and soon enough you’re hurtling into a high you hadn’t even realized had been building up and up and up.
Your lashes flutter shut as the orgasm overtakes you.
Hips ruttin’ away into the plushness of your pillow- you wonder just how much better riding him would be…
And that’s setting off a whole new layer of dopamine at your core, your cunt quiverin’ as white-hot pleasure makes your heartbeat throb in your ears. Chest pounding. Breaths heavy.
By the time you’ve finished pushing through your high, you’re coming to find that Curse had somewhat cleaned himself up with the towel and was bantering back n’ forth with the chat. He rests his head on one hand and sweeps his eyes down the usernames, “What happened to dear Movie, huh?” Curse pretends to pout. “The first stream wasn’t too much for her, right?”
@girrrrrrrrrrth: kekekeke you’re too freaky, curse!!
@CCpervnextdoor: So dirty~
@daddytoeknee: Must thank Movie for the show though…
Urgently, you’re gathering yourself and tapping a few buttons on-screen.
@Ietsmakeamovie subscribed to @cursed(your)wombz.
@Ietsmakeamovie donated 2500 cherries.
@Ietsmakeamovie: It’d never be too much.
“Ahhh, there you are.” Such a beautiful smile smears across his face, and Curse’s leaning in to take a closer look at the comments. “And thank you for subscribing, same time tomorrow?”
You’re unsure whether that was directed at you or everyone viewing- but you’re chiming in agreement alongside the rest of the comments. And Curse reads through them, lingering for just a little while longer before he grins.
“Heh- bye, sluts.”
And he covers the camera, the stream cuts off.
Yet your heart still thunders.
Ignoring the time at the bottom of your laptop screen, you’re then clicking on his profile and scrolling through what other videos he had…
.
.
.
It was your fault that you kept dozing off.
Honestly.
You should have known better- and you know that you should’ve known better…but you couldn’t help yourself. After Curse’s initial stream, you spent some time browsing through the numerous photographs and short clips that he’d posted; there were even some saved streams that were each dirtier than the last—each with his attractive mask and his even more attractive voice, his sensual cock getting pumped over and over for the audiences.
And so you’d left a few comments, a few hearts.
Throughout all of them, you made the peculiar discovery that they were all more high-quality than the last. The standard of being the #1 on the site, you guess. But the lighting and angles were all just so perfect…
You’d watched them for just a little while- at least, what you’d thought was a little while. Because by the time you’re realizing that your laptop battery was dying, and your eyes were tired, you’re turning your head in the direction of the dorm windows and- fuck.
Why was the Sun coming up?
And so you’d rushed to get at least half an hour of sleep before you had to get up for your 8AM lecture.
Professor Yaga taught Film 101 as though he was trying to scare everyone off it. Rigorous coursework and never-altered deadlines. Though you yourself wouldn’t consider him an unreasonable man, it was impertinent to be punctual and alert in his classes - and right now, you were feeling neither of those.
By the grace of the universe, you’re somehow managing to stumble into class just two minutes after it starts. It’s not enough to rouse Yaga’s anger - and either way, you had made a name for yourself as one of his most avid students - though it does get you a sternly raised brow as you apologize and take the nearest open seat.
Just-so-happening to be in the very last row.
At the very forgotten corner.
Right beside who you knew to be Yaga’s actually most avid student—Choso Kamo.
Had it been a race between the two of you - perhaps between the entire department - Choso would have finished five times before anyone’s even stepping past the finish line. You would’ve gotten second. And that wasn’t to diminish your abilities in any way - you’d long since proven yourself to be one of the best students this course had even seen - it’s just…Choso was a film nerd through and through.
If there was anyone that could live up to such a title, then it was him.
Choso lived, slept, and breathed film and television. He could name any television show around the world with just a single frame, and most he could recite line-for-line. Oh, that? He learned Korean just to immerse himself in that scene in Parasite. That scene? It was from the 1957 Sri Lankan film Amba Yahaluwo, by the way did you know that Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom was filmed there, too?
Knitted vest. Hair in two messy space buns.
Clunky glasses rested atop his nosebridge, and dark bangs covering most of his vision, you’d often see him tottering around campus with a column of books that was damn-near taller than him. And despite his towering demeanour - from your mental counting, Choso was around 6’2 or more - around most of the student body, he was the type that couldn’t meet your eyes no matter how many classes you shared with him.
Even now, as you seated right next to him and smiled- Choso softly yelps and turns away from.
You don’t take it personally, of course, as he was simply the shy type. And by the flush that rises to his high cheekbones, you know he - at the very least - doesn’t dislike you.
Situating yourself, you’re opening your bag and pulling out your laptop. Opening it- fuck.
The briefest flash of one of Curses’s previous streams—where he had his cock in his hands and his face contorted mid-ecstasy flashes across your screen. And you can’t slam your laptop shut fast enough- cracking it just the slightest bit to exit out of the numerous tabs, fingers nothing but a blur. Thank fuck your volume hadn’t been set on high.
Head ducked, you’re looking out from the corner of your eye to check whether Choso had seen anything.
But if he did, he shows no indication.
Only keeping his back ramrod straight- his gaze ahead- his flush fiery as he listens to whatever Yaga was saying.
And so you think you’re in the clear…for now…
Opening your laptop up once more, you’re logging onto your lecture platforms and attempting to forget about last night. Which was difficult when that smile upon Curse’s face, just beneath his mask - was the only thing running through your mind.
And before you know it, you’d been staring blankly at your screen for a few seconds—before Choso inches in just a centimeter closer. Unwilling to let himself take up even more space. He keeps his eyes trained ahead and his voice - fuck, you’d never heard his voice before but it was just so deep and measured, something you wouldn’t have expected out of him - low.
Whispering to you, “H-he’s on Chapter 18 of Stone Butch Blues, we’re about to write a screenplay for the zoo scene.”
“Ah…” You don’t know whether you’re more surprised at the timbre of his voice or the way he managed a proper sentence out to you. All your previous attempts at conversation throughout the semester had been futile—and you’d long resigned yourself to the idea that he was too nervous to ever talk to you. “Th-thank you.”
He doesn’t answer but nods in shy acknowledgement.
And as you’re opening up your file, you bask in the realization that Choso Kamo was actually hot underneath those glasses. If only you could see his features further…
Maybe you’re being a little delirious. Your eyes feel heavy.
Heavy.
Heavier.
Tap-tap-tap.
A shake.
Tap-tap-tap-tap.
A warm hand on your shoulder, by the time you’re opening your eyes- you’re looking up into even warmer, molten chocolate-colored ones. They were framed by fawny eyelashes and thick glasses that made his shy gaze seem ever-so-slightly amplified.
You think you’re stunned for a few seconds before Choso speaks, “U-um…class is over.”
“Oh.” That makes you dart your head up and look around, noticing that most of the students had filtered in or were in the process of already doing so. “Oh, shit-”
You’d seriously slept through all that?
And Yaga had left you alive?!
No, you weren’t going to question this act of mercy—thank goodness for the last row, because he likely hadn’t been able to see you. Shooting upright, you’re grabbing all your things and hoping you hadn’t snored next to the sweet boy - “Thank you so much for waking me.” You’re turning towards him and saying, earnestness seeping into your tone. “Knowing me, I would’ve slept right through till next class. Might actually have been more convenient.”
He startles into a laugh then raises a hand up to his mouth and quietens himself down, “It’s alright.” You’re staring closely at the little bells of laughter, and he turns his eyes downwards. Bashfully admitting, “Happens to me too, whenever I stay up um- studying. Long night?”
You sigh, “You could say that…” Not a long night studying, but…
And as the conversation quietens down and Choso worries down on his bottom lip, you’re hiking your backpack up on your shoulders and saying. “Well, I guess I should be going then. Catch up on the recordings of the lecture and everything-” Turning, “See you ‘round—and thanks again.”
You make all of five steps before Choso finally gathers up the courage to call out-
“Wait—!”
Confused, you’re facing him once more. “Yes?”
And his hand was out, his fingers were slightly trembling. He was mouthing out the words as though still debating whether to speak them into existence - whether he was capable of. “I…we-” Eventually mustering up the courage once you give a reassuring nod, “When will we meet up?”
That makes you pause.
Was he…
“F-for the assignment.” Choso clarifies, a flush rising to his cheeks as he likely realizes he should’ve led with that. “Professor Yaga’s mid-semester project he always does…”
Ah—you’re clapping a palm on your forehead. How could you have forgotten? Yaga had announced at the start of the semester that about halfway through, the class would be paired up or put into groups to work on a collaborative project that contributed to about 50% of your grade. This semester, it was to write a full-length movie screenplay for a book or musical of your choice. And you’d been excited for it, in fact, but after the…activities of last night it’d completely slipped your mind that he’d be delving more into it this lecture.
And the poor boy stumbles through his explanation, “H-he let everyone choose their partners, and I wanted to wake you up but…you just looked so peaceful.” He fidgets with his fingers and flushes, “I th-thought one of your friends would come up here and choose you but-”
Probing him gently, “But?”
“B-but I’m afraid you ended up paired with me.” Choso just looks so genuinely apologetic- “I’m sorry- no one picked me either. I should’ve woken you up, but we can go talk with Professor Yaga about changing partners if you’d like-”
“Hey—wait.” You’re cutting off his spiel, something in your chest aching at the utterly devastated furrow between his brows. You take a step closer to him, “I would love to do the project with you, Choso. No need to talk to Yaga about anything.”
He looks up at you with wide, disbelieving eyes. “B-but your friends…”
“I don’t really have close friends in this class, anyway.” You smile, “I’d much rather do it with you.”
“Really—?” Breathed. As if he couldn’t believe it.
And it’s after some time - and a deep inhale - that he speaks again. Finally sinking in that someone would choose him of all people—that you would, that he speaks again. “And um- would you like to work on the script at my place?” Before you can answer, his breath hitches and his head shoots up. “N-not that I’m pressuring you into…it’s nothing weird, I promise! We can meet anywhere else you like- the library, your place- wait, no that’s weird, too…”
“Choso- Choso.” You giggle. And if this was anyone else then you would’ve assumed that they were putting the moves on you. “I’m okay with your place.”
.
.
.
The apartment was a fair distance away from the campus dorms.
Which made sense, you suppose, given the fact that less than half the people there would be able to afford the rent on such a place—especially after tuition. The highrise dove into the clouds, its vermicular body scaled in glistening windows and gold-accented furnishings within. You got the distinct feeling of being swallowed whole as you entered through the widely-gaped entrance, with several doormen and security that eyed you up and down, bowed at Choso.
You thanked them and made your way - slightly speechless - through the hallways.
This was everything you could ever dream of, and you’re sure you spot the odd actor or two down in the lobby. As you’re getting into an elevator the size of your entire dorm room, Choso punches in one of the highest floor numbers and turns to you-
Throughout the bus ride here, you’d been the one chattering away. And so it surprises you once he finally speaks, “I-I’m sorry…my place is a bit of a mess.”
“Can’t be as bad as mine. I won’t judge.” Who cares about a mess when he lives in a place like this? You couldn’t wait to go inside…
He pushes his chunky glasses upwards and gives you a shy smile, “Thank you.” Looking down at his polished shoes, “You’re so sweet.”
“Thank you.”
And you rise upwards in silence.
Soon enough, you’re finding yourself being led up to his massive apartment. He’s punching in the numbers of the code and setting his backpack down—telling you to make yourself comfortable. And you shuffle inside awkwardly; past the lavish furnishings and the alien-shaped lamps that all rich places seemed to boast.
He leads you in the direction of the master bedroom - where Choso said that his film collection was vast and likely to reveal techniques that the two of you would be able to incorporate into your own script.
“I even have a copy of Momijigari- it’s one of my most prized possessions.” He shoots you such a charming smile, eyes twinkling behind his glasses, over his shoulder. Heading inside.
And you can’t help but follow.
A single step inside his not-so-humble abode and you’re feeling a sudden sense of déjà vu wash over you, rendering you unsteady on your feet. Not quite sure why, you’re sweeping your eyes around the space: the high-quality camera equipment in one corner (not unusual to see for a film student), the chic furnishings, and then over to the empty wall space above the king-sized bed, something in you remained dissatisfied as they find nothing there but white plaster.
Choso notices that you’ve stalled behind and looks over at you curiously—he was taking a seat on the carpet, laptop opened up on top of the coffee table. “Something wrong? I’m sorry, I know it’s really messy but-”
“No, you’re good.” You shake your head, “It’s actually not messy enough.”
He smiles.
That night, you went home and wondered why Choso’s smile looked so familiar.
.
.
.
The musical that you’d chosen for your ‘adaptation’ was The Phantom of the Opera, suggested by you, of course.
And if there had been any connection to the masked man you’d been watching the night prior, then you were just glad that Choso had no idea.
It was far easier, given the fact that it’d already been adapted from the initial novel—though that only meant that Yaga would be critiquing yours even harder.
So you had to strive to be more cinematic, than the others in your class, stronger in ways than the ones before you - and though you doubt you’d ever match up to Schumacher’s visuals, there was little doubt as to whether you’d be the best amongst the students. This was a screenplay made to impress, and in the week since you’d pored over it—and Choso Kamo’s mahogany coffee table typing away at it, you only grew more determined in the fact. And throughout the week, you’ve been flitting in and out of that very apartment of his.
Choso had been a lovely partner for the project - the best you could’ve ever asked for - and you’re coming to find that he was actually far more funny than anyone ever gave him credit for. Far more open. Far more active when it came to something he was passionate about.
And of course, you knew that he’d be sweet.
Despite his initial insistence that he could do the project himself, you’d taken up half the work. And you’d joined him in browsing through his massive catalogue of movies, in searching up screenplays to read, and in annotating them for techniques when starting to write yours.
You’ve come to make friends with one of the doormen by now.
Just today you’d watched the 2004 Phantom of the Opera adaptation. And after a few hours of occupying his space and getting to know the nerdy boy a little better, you’d go straight back home to…Curse.
Whenever Choso made you feel tingly with his sweetness, Curse would amplify that heat to right between your legs.
It’s been a week of getting to know Choso Kamo, and a week of having Curse splashed across your laptop screen—cock furiously hard n’ his moans echoing. He’d smile and utter your username whilst wearing his iconic mask and it’d be a high strong enough to follow into the day after. And often Choso would ask you what you’re so happy about.
Today, in particular, Curse had just finished one of his streams - cumming aaaaaall over the desk this time - when he’d settled himself back down and started chatting with the comments. Responding to one or two of yours.
You’re just about to joke about why he was sticking so long after his orgasm when he speaks once more-
Voice somewhat serious, “Alright, now…settle down, settle down.” Curse waves his hand airily at the camera, throwing a middle finger up when the chat only gets more frenzied. “Tch- what brats you all are, would you wanna roleplay that someday?”
@vampzo333: YES PLEASE.
@likezmenpregnant: How about you be the brat…?
@Ietsmakeamovie: I would like that.
@sixeyesorsixh0les: ^^
@0003h0lesforCurse: ^
“Fine fine…” Underneath the mask, he rolls his eyes fondly. “But I really do have something to announce-”
@likezmenpregnant: You’re pregnant.
@Ietsmakeamovie: I’m the father-
@Curse’swifey: NO MEEEEEEEEEEE!!
“I’m thinking of getting a partner for these streams.” He finally admits, rubbing his chin as though still in thought. And your heart stops-
@bipplruletheworld: so down.
@Cursenoticeme44: Omg yeeeeeeeeees!!
@daddytoeknee: YESYESYES.
The chat practically explodes, and you’re unsure what to feel about it—after all, you don’t know Curse and it’d be strange to feel a little possessive over his solo streams, however, you did have your preferences. But then again, you can’t help but imagine just how much hotter it would be to have two people- perhaps to see him make expressions he never has before…
Ultimately, you’re quiet as Curse leans in and scans the chat. His brows furrow just a little as he sweeps through the blurring usernames, “I dunno…I’m still thinking about it- I haven’t even asked this person, to be honest. I just wanted to know what you guys thought.” Nodding his head along or huffing out laughter at some of the comments, “Movie?”
You jolt—at being called out.
He wanted your opinion specifically? You suppose you did contribute to about half his comment section most streams.
But you stall as your fingers reach for the keyboard.
Biting down on your lip and contemplating for a little while. Though he waits as patiently as ever-
@Ietsmakeamovie: I don’t mind!!
Something seems to wash over him as he reads your comment, nodding. “I see.”
He moves onto something else and his expression was indiscernible.
You’re flickering your eyes to the artwork behind him, the small corner of it peaking into the frame, and it suddenly hits you that it’s the theatrical poster of The Phantom of the Opera (2004).
.
.
.
It can’t be.
It can’t be.
It can’t be.
There’s something your brain was telling you that you’re absolutely refusing to believe—after all, how many people in the world loved The Phantom of the Opera? Hell, how many people in the world have watched The Phantom of the Opera?
That didn’t mean that everyone you came across had a secret identity as one of the hottest streamers on C4mBoyfriends.
You were being paranoid, you told yourself. You were being utterly silly- and the next time you’re going over to Choso’s apartment was the very next day. Which wasn’t entirely ideal, given how much you’d tossed and turned after Curse’s last stream conjuring up all the possibilities…but Yaga wouldn’t accept a request for an extension even if you were set on fire in front of him. And so you went.
The pit of your stomach twists as Choso swings the lavish wooden door open and gives you a beaming smile. So innocent. So sweet.
He shakily pushes his glasses up as he welcomes you in. “Come in—s-sorry if I took a while to get to the door, I’ve been doing some decorating recently.”
His nervous smile is what makes you find your voice. And you’re dubiously looking around the luxurious apartment, “You need to do some decorating?”
“Believe it or not, yes.” Choso huffs. “Would you like something to drink? Or maybe to eat? I checked out that bakery you recommended last time and you’re right- they have the best Danish pastries.”
“Actually, Choso…” You’re shaking your head, shooting him a grateful smile. “I’m good. I’d think I’d prefer to start right away, if that’s alright? I really wanna get to Act 2 today.”
“O-oh, of course—!”
And he’s sweetly guiding you inside, whilst you attempt not to look like you’re taking two steps at a time. Back to that familiar room. Back to that familiar desk. Back to that (somewhat) familiar bed which most certainly did not have an artwork from The Phantom of the Opera on it—
You open the door and the first thing you’re seeing is the familiar plane of that white mask. The Phantom.
Choso follows behind you and catches you staring at the poster. Gravelly tone echoing from behind, “I told you I did some decorating.”
And you jump-
Swivelling around to find him bearing you a sheepish smile, “Sorry if I startled you.” He pushes those chunky glasses up, “Tea?”
“S-sure…” You breathe, if anything for a thing to occupy your mouth with. Wait- not like that—!
And as Choso disappears down the hall, you’re taking a seat on the bed you’ve sat on countless, countless times before without a single care in the world. Now you’re sinking into the very - the very - edge as though it’d swallow you whole.
Body just resting on the plush comforter before-
“Hey, so I also have coffee if you would prefer?” Comes Choso’s sudden voice.
And you’re startling once more- “Just tea is fine, thanks.” Barely managing to get that through your lips, you’re watching as he disappears…as the sound of his footsteps echo…
Before darting off the bed and now heading towards the camera equipment you’d noticed in the corner the first time you’d been here. What you’d assumed to be part of another one of his classes or personal projects. Now, you’re leaning in and wondering with just which camera he showed his pretty cock off to millions, at just what height of his tripod he made your cunt so heated.
Fuck.
Fuck, fuck, fuck this was real.
Now, you’re noticing things in the room that you’d never noticed before. Like the ring light kept underneath his bed, and the dresser in the corner with numerous rings- those weren’t costume props or anything. They were pure silver.
Heavy.
Heavy, like the pit in your stomach—excited and swirling. Just trembling at the tips of your fingers - ever-so-slightly - you’re reaching out as though to touch it, as though to feel the alternate version of Choso that you knew longer than you knew Choso-
“Ah, so you’ve realized.”
And then his voice permeates the room.
The room that suddenly seems smaller, the room that suddenly seems to rise ten degrees in temperature - though goosebumps skitter across your skin. And almost as though in a horror movie, you’re turning in slow motion to face the bespectacled man who was now holding up a tray of steaming hot tea.
He walks over soundlessly and sets it on the coffee table with a slight click! And besides that, Choso walks over to the dressing table and puts his silver rings on.
One by one.
His eyes hold court with yours through the mirror, “How long?” Voice a deep timbre.
You’re taking a step closer without even realizing, “Um…just last night. Just now- actually.”
He chuckles and you realize he’s asking how long you’ve known about Curse.
“I-I found you by chance. About a week ago, actually…” And then you say what’s been on your mind ever since you had, “Ever since you liked and unliked my repost.”
“Ah, a rookie mistake.” Choso comments. “I should have known better than to stalk using my public account.” And with all rings now put on and glinting in the lighting of his bedroom, Choso shuffles through his jewellery tray to pluck his earrings in and one eyebrow piercing. And then…one lip piercing—a lip ring that twinkles mischievously as he smiles.
He rises and you think you’ve never quite appreciated his built frame.
His deep eyes as they’re locking in on you. Echoing out, “Though…you really can’t say much- can you, Movie?”
And though you knew that he knew- you can’t stop the zaps of electricity running through your body.
Sputtering out, “Yeah-” Your fists clench and you’re looking up at the object of both your fantasies and your secret interest these past few days - melded into one. “Yeah, I really can’t. Choso you’re so…”
“Different?” He fixes his glasses, “Though I really am shy, I can’t deny that- especially around you. But it helps to be a little more antisocial when I’m around idiots.”
He leans in closer- so close that his scorchin’ hot breath wafts across your features. You have no idea how you’d diminished such a distance so soon…
“And if my memory serves me right-” Choso taps on the edge of his chin, in mocking thought. “-I seem to remember that Movie agreed to have a partner on my stream.” You shiver. And he looks at you adoringly, “So how about it? Wanna make a movie, baby?”
You step a little closer.
“Only if I get to match wardrobes.”
He chuckles and picks you up to spin you around-
And then it’s getting to work. And then it’s shuffling through his closet to find a mask that matches his own.
He stretches on the rubber a bit and brings it to you—“I bought this one when I first started, but it ended up being too tight- I think it’d be just the one for you.”
It was. It fit perfectly.
And then he paces around the room and starts to set up- before Choso’s gaze catches you hovering around the bed, and then he’s clicking his tongue and forgoing the tripods altogether. With just the professional lights and the high-quality camera, Choso places the camera on top of the coffee table. Facing the foot of the bed - everything and anything could be seen.
Just with a few clicks he’s started the stream.
And with just a little nudge he’s urging you to sit next to him.
“Hello, my little sluts—” Choso- or should you say Curse croons towards the camera. On one of his monitors you can see him being projected there - waving, in his knitted vest that clashed with his mask. You stand off awkwardly out of sight from the camera. He smiles. “As you can see, things are a little different today…”
@girrrrrrrrrrth: uuuuuu change of angle!! change of angle!!
@bewbsRlife: ARE WE GETTING A SURPRISEEEEEEE??
@likezmenpregnant: Pls be pregnant, Curse <3
“No- no, I’m not pregnant.” He laughs, “But I have been thinking about what we talked about last night.”
@bipplruletheworld: omg this can’t be…
“And guess what? I did what you guys told me about- and I talked to her.”
@bipplruletheworld: yessssssss
@yoyoyoureinmypuss: I’VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS ONE^^
@bewbsRlife: WOOOOOO-
@daddytoeknee: Omg where’s Movie, Ik she’d love this- heh. Imagine this WAS Movie though…
“So, my little sluts…” Choso announces, “I’d like to introduce you all to my new partner—” And he’s reaching out and clasping your wrist, looking up to check for reassurance before continuing. Miming whispering to the camera, “And this is her first time on stream, so be nice…”
You’re sheepishly walking into their view.
Slightly bowing your intrusion into the stream, “Th-thanks for having me?”
“Isn’t she cuuuuute?” He asks the commenters, and there’s a flurry of agreements. You’re even spotting a few questions about your name n’ interests, even kinks, amongst those - all of which Choso waves off with a laugh. “Now now—we can have the Q&A later. For now, let’s get to the fun part…”
@Curse’swifey: FUCK THAT’S MY FAV PART-
@2coolforcond0ms(i’mavirgin): Movie you’re missing out on a historic moment uwu
And the fun part consisted of clamoring onto the bed as fast as lightning. Letting the mattress dip n’ creak its protests out as Choso sits on it with his back turned to the camera, then lovingly pats his manspread thighs as a signal for you to climb on. Meaty muscles. Thick enough for you to want to sink your teeth into- how could you never have noticed?
Perhaps because this was the polar opposite of how he acted when he was on campus - always keeping to himself, never taking up too much space. Now he was practically vacuuming it all up so you had nowhere else to sit.
And you were more than happy to climb onto Choso Kamo’s lap.
Sitting your ass down on his readily-awaiting seat. From under your skirt you feel something hot—and throbbing between his legs. Cylindrically shaped and curved to the left.
Just the slightest movement makes his rock-hard erection twitch underneath- and you’re whimpering at the lewd sensation. At the way he drips out a hefty dollop of precum that seeps through his trousers and sticks to the front of your panties, making you gasp—“Ch-Cho-”
“Shhhh.” Choso wraps a hand ‘round your throat and cuts you off.
And before you know it, he’s bouncing his knees to get you to slide your drippin’ pussy up and down his bulge. Up and down. Turning towards the camera, “Ya hear that?” Up and down. “My girl’s so needy- she’s already begging for it. But I dunno if she deserves it, huh?”
@bewbsRlife: I MEANNNN
@theh0rniestsoldier: i’m feeling mean today…
@daddytoeknee: Give her your mouth!!
“Mouth? I love that idea.” Choso titters.
And then he’s giving a teasing slap on the side of your ass cheeks—smack!
“Please-”
“Sit on my face now, baby.” He purrs, eyes flickerin’ with pure need underneath his mask. Then leaning in to whisper in a loooow tone for only you to hear. “You know Choso, but let’s see if you can handle Curse.”
Then he leans back on the bed - his head pointing in the direction of the camera.
And you’re shuffling up Choso’s toned, brick-hard body—straddling your knees upon either side of his head, veerin’ your hips right atop that pretty face. You’re sitting - right in front of the camera. Though nothing was revealed…yet.
And Choso’s digging his tongue up to you instantly- he isn’t even making it past the fabric of your panties. But that doesn’t stop him from lettin’ his tastebuds take a looooong, luxurious lick of your swollen pussy.
Right down your sopping wet slit.
Suddenly, the room echoes with one of his pornographic moans- the very same ones you’d listened to night after night through your laptop speakers. Now they’re even louder, and somehow even sexier, sending electricity shooting straight up, up, up from your core.
And even more treacherous was the way you’re feeling something cold…and metallic at the very middle of Choso’s tongue. Rock-hard. It takes whatever’s left of your rationality to realize that it’s a silvery tongue piercing smack-dab where his tastebuds kissed your pussy. Scraping alongside where you were most sensitive.
Instantly; your head tips back and saliva starts bubbling at the sides of your lips. “Fuh-fuck…” And before you know it—you’re starting to drag your throbbing pussy up n’ down his features.
Short, barely-there jerks of your shy, shy hips.
And Choso chuckles huskily to himself at the cute way you were yearnin’ for his mouth. But what you didn’t expect was for him to reach one ringed hand up and squeeze the left side of your hips.
Your only warning.
Before he’s suddenly tightening his hold on you and reaching one more hand up- snaking it beneath your skirt like some pervert. Choso edges towards your throbbing cunt and places one good slap—
It’s the resounding smack! of skin-on-skin that makes you halt more than anything.
Jaw-dropped. Thighs quivering. The white-hot pleasure runs through your spine and leaves you barely hearing his roughened words, a tone lower than you knew his voice to be- as though drunk on the delicious taste of your pussy already. “Greedy, greedy girl…” Choso tuts, “Don’t tell me you’re trying to enjoy yourself without letting our dear audience in on the fun?”
Oh, shit.
You’re letting your head snap to where the camera was positioned and blinking its one gluttonous eye. Comments flooding the screen of the monitor so fast that you couldn’t read them-
You’d completely forgotten about the stream for a second.
“I—oh, I um.”
Yet another harsh smack! “Forgot, huh?” Amusement seeps into Choso’s words, as though he’d already guessed the situation.
You admit, “M-maybe…”
“I’m afraid I can’t blame you, baby.” Smack! “Curse’s mouth is too good, huh?” He yammers on and on, his tongue nudging deeper, his rippling tastebuds skidding into every ridge- as if trying to fuck you through your damn panties. “This pussy’s too good–she’s purring f’me already. Hear her?”
And you’re not sure why- but you’re nodding to whatever he says. “Y-yes—fuck.”
“Mhm. So why don’t we let our lovely audience hear, too, huh?” You’re barely given the time to register his suggestion, before Choso husks out a command. “Lift your skirt up, baby.”
Your thighs squeeze around his head at the notion-
And your fingertips touch the short hemline of your skirt.
@Cursenoticeme44: Holy shit.
@theh0rniestsoldier: i’ve been waiting for thisssssssssss-
@daddytoeknee: WOW.
@girrrrrrrrrrth: bby’s so needy!!
@R€4leater: munch Curse #canon
The chat explodes as you let them bear witness to Choso’s face stuffed between your pretty legs- he’s redly-flushed and ravenous. They could see the slightest glimpse of his nose n’ the way he’s driving it between your sodden pussylips, diving and diving, they could see the glossy layers coating your cunt—and the way Choso’s pink lips come up to suck on it.
Those handsome cheeks of his hollow out, as he’s makin’ out with your pussy through your panties.
Like a man starved.
Long canines slightly nippin’ at your folds- almost wolfish in mannerisms.
“Oh p-please…” You’re quivering atop him. You don’t even know what you’re begging for—just that it feels so good to have him veering his tongue hungrily against your cunt like this. And you wanted more.
More, more, and more.
Choso’s holding onto your restless hips with a clammy hand- he’s stuck to you almost like adhesive. And he guides your hips - he fucking slows them down - whilst you continue moanin’ and shaking atop his raw mouth. Glistening wet tongue extending even more than its usual length to slide-slide-sliiiiide your panties to the side-
And you’re gasping at the sudden whiff of cold bedroom air against your naked pussy. “Ch-” A spank. “I mean- fuck, Curse?”
“Mhm, m’here, baby.” He drawls out. Slightly slurring with all the extra globs of your pussy juices - pooling straight into your mouth, n’ Choso reaches up and smooches your soft swollen folds to smear it all around. Like some gloss. “M’here aaaaaand- so are 820k sluts that wanna watch you break.”
“B-break?” You’re gaping, “I thought you were just gonna- ngh, eat me out…?”
“Baby, Curse never ‘just’ does anything.” And you’re shocked to find him sliding his tongue out, tipping his head back to refer to the camera on the coffee table. “Isn’t that right, fuckin’ pervs?”
@daddytoeknee: Hell yeah.
@0003h0lesforCurse: duhhhhhhhhh
@yoyoyoureinmypuss: YOU’RE THE BEST CURSE
@Fishygurodad: Fuck, her pussy’s divine.
“Heh…” Choso smiles into your cunt, “And so whaddaya say? How many slaps before I stick my tongue in her?”
@vampzo333: 3
@bbynohuuuuzz: 14
@Ilikepr1menumbers: 29
“Since m’feeling nice- read your favorite one out, baby.” He murmurs.
To which you’re unable to do anything but- you tilt your upper half just the slightest bit closer to the monitor and pick out the first one you can read through the blur of words and numbers:
@Fishygurodad: Until she cries.
Oh.
Your blood runs cold.
Your cunt grows heated.
And before you can either rectify your recitation or beg for mercy—Choso doesn’t hesitate before fixing the rings on his fingers to be slightly higher than before. Making sure they’re in line of him planting one- two- three good, loud spanks on your sobbin’ cunt. “O-oh my god- fuck, mmm, oh my god.”
Until the skin of his fingertips seems to redden, and your pussylips feel raw - “How about that?” He asks- not from you, but from the viewers.
@daddytoeknee: I don’t see her crying yet…also idkkkkk I’m getting Movie vibes.
@girrrrrrrrrrth: movie would’ve loved this-
And then it’s one after the other. Again and again, Choso’s emblazoning the rude outlines of his rings against yours - until you’ve fucking memorized the ridges n’ patterns of the one ring on his middle finger with the carving of an octopus.
Tentacles flared out.
“Shit, not that damn ring again.”
And as he’s doing so he can’t help himself- fuck, he can’t heeeeelp himself. His canines dig into the sticky fabric of your underwear like a damn dog - and throughout the duration of what his hands were doing, you’re hearing the sharp riiiiip of fabric tearing—!
Soon enough, your panties are tattered and ruined in Choso’s maw- just from his mouth. He spits it out and continues swerving his thickened tips inwards to give a loving pinch on your clit—and you can’t help but burst into peals of shrill, needy cries. Both pain and pleasure mixing as he doles out a final swat-
Before Choso swipes your pussylips apart and spits- the glutinous glob of his saliva landing directly on your hole. He doesn’t give it the time to seep back out—instead, he’s surging up and shoving his face between your legs.
This time, without the barrier of your panties in the way.
@CCpervnextdoor: HE FUCKING RIPPED IT OFF WITH HIS MOUTH??
@bewbsRlife: HOLY SHIT CURSE-
@Fishygurodad: Shiiiiit, I’d do the same ngl.
And then Choso’s shoving his tongue inside and slurpin’ all around your wet hole like a damn animal…
In and out.
In and out.
Probin’ into slippery sweet spots.
Chin hitting the back of your slit. Plastic mask rubbing against your clit.
Choso’s pierced tongue was going absolutely fucking wild inside of you. He wastes no time before gripping either side of your cute hips and slammin’ your pussy down onto his mouth- hard and fast. The perverted nerd is slashing his tongue inwards, smearin’ apart your glue-covered folds. As deep as he could go. He doesn’t care if it hurts, he just needs to make sure that loooong slick muscle of his tastebuds were scrapin’ every inch of your walls.
With the curved tip of it, he flexes it against a sweet bundle of nerves. Making you buck with a pitchy moan of his name—“Ch-Cuuuurse—!” And the sensation was made even more delicious with the way his orb tongue piercing presses in contrast against your hot cunt. “It feels so good, Curse.”
“I already know.” Choso pipes up- cocky in all the ways you never knew he could be. “I already know- but what about those fuckers watching, huh?”
“W-well…” Spit drivels down your chin, and you’re struggling to keep your eyes focused to read the urgent chat.
@bipplruletheworld: they’re so HOT!!
@NERDSAREMYBABYGIRLZ: OHHHH WHAT A MUNCH
@daddytoeknee: Me next <3
And it was clear that they were seeing the effect he had on you- how could they not?
Your eyes were dazed and teary, your thighs were shaking like leaves in the wind, Choso was making your body twitch—just from the way he’s reeling his entire tongue out. And breathing out steadily and slowly against your twitchin’ pussylips, freezing cold air that leaves you even wetter on top of him.
He’s unfastening his mouth - leaving it wiiiiide open for all the satiny ribbons of your slick to enter his gullet. And once you’re done- that isn’t enough riling you up.
Choso leaves a good slap on your folds and asks, “So…what about it?” Muffled through his mouthfuls.
“They agree- they agree—” You’re keening out. Star-struck, seeing pleasure burst behind your shuttered eyelids at the sudden stinging. “Fuck- you’re the hck! best I’ve ever had, Curse.”
“I agree.” He hums. And as if this entire ordeal wasn’t sinful enough, Choso’s swashing around the silky-smooth sap he’d collected from your leaking pussy. Letting the flavor seep into his tastebuds, before he’s then spitting again on your pussy. A semi-opaque layer of lewdness that coats your inner thighs in a sheen that catches the lighting.
Perfect on camera.
You’re squeezing your wettened thighs together and creating an audible squelch!
“Awwww, look- this pussy agrees, too.”
The gooey addition startles you- and you rut.
Only straight down onto his awaiting fingers.
@girrrrrrrrrrth: oh, shit is he…
@legsopenforcurses: With the rings on, too!!
@likezmenpregnant: My show is onnnnn
It’s such a fucking mess for him to navigate- even with his own fingers. Soon enough, you’re arching your back as you feel him intrude a single ringed digit between those utterly swollen pussylips of yours—almost difficult to find your snug hole between them. You’re damn lucky that Choso’s fingers were slender as well as incredibly lengthy.
Because he’s circlin’ your tight orifice a few times - only a few times - before inserting the sections of his finger. Quirking just right and hitting the exact bundle of your nerves.
That infamous g-spot that made you yelp once he starts and keeps on hitting.
And his rings- oh, fuck, his rings.
Just so chunky and textured. They were the perfect designs to press up against your walls and massage them stupid- every drag meant that you’re feeling them dig into ridges n’ crevices you hadn’t even known existed.
Hitting and hitting. Curling his dexterous finger and scraping- “Fuuuuck, oh my god.” The doughy tip of his finger soon becomes damn-near molded to the area where it was, and your eyes flicker to the back of your head as you continue anglin’ your hips so he could hit it perfectly. “Right there, Curse- r-right there.”
“I know.” Choso rolls his eyes - at least what seems like it underneath his mask. “That’s why I’m hitting it. Honestly…is my girl dickmatized?” He utters as he sucks on your clit—ultimately erupting a sobbing slurp! that makes him nod. “Mhm, I think my girl’s dickmatized.”
Tipping his head back before you can refute his claims. He then addresses the audience-
“Whaddaya think, my little pervs? Dickmatized already…maybe I should go easy on her, huh?”
@olderandR4w: nooooooooooo
@yoyoyoureinmypuss: NEVER.
@Fishygurodad: Go even harder.
“Tough crowd.” And with that said, Choso’s stuffin’ in just a few more fingers. Each with their own numerous rings and sopping wet sounds accompanying them—slurp!
One.
Two.
You’re counting about three of his prolonged digits pushin’ your tight walls to their limits, rubbing your sweet spots raw with his constant bashing rhythm, before lustful fogginess coils around your brain. And it’s around here that Choso catches onto the glazed look in your eyes and chuckles—
“Ohhhh, you really are dickmatized.” He hums to himself, though you’re sure the professional mic picks it up either way. “And so soon, too. Probably hasn’t had a good finger-”
A fourth being added so that he can scissor apart your velvety channel whilst still multi-tasking with his other fingers to ram into your g-spot.
“-or even a good mouth on ‘er…” To emphasize his point, he presses a dramatically loud kiss upon your clit. One that’s making you bounce n’ bounce your hips atop his clammy face, and grind your throbbing nub down on his pointed nose. The addition of his mask just makes that cool touch even more lecherous. “My poor girl.” Choso still mutters out despite the way he’s gluing your cunt to his mouth. He pulls away from your clit with a loud pop! “What do you think, my slutty audience?”
At the slurring question you’re letting your head down to watch him. “Ch…Curse, what’ve you got on your mind-”
“M’just asking what else you deserve, baby.” He coos. And questions them once more, “How about a little quiz? Which parts of Curse are going to make my poor, poor girl feel the best? A). My fingers. B). My mouth. Or…”
And he pretends to listen to your noisy wet pussy once more.
“Or C…” You could practically feel the grin plastering against your needy pussy. The way his eyes narrow in sinful amusement beneath his mask- you didn’t have to see his full face to know that Choso was enjoying this perhaps way more than he should. “—all of the above.”
And it was futile to think that they would answer anything else.
C floods your vision.
You’re letting your mouth droop, and your gaze meet Choso’s own between your legs- but you’re finding that you don’t have to say a thing for him to already know the answer.
And as expected, he gives a final roll of his tongue atop your clit - before munchin’ on your aching cunt once more. This time, he’s tunneling his fingers deep into your cavern whilst still licking inside with his prolonged tongue—when stretched out, Choso’s tongue could reach almost as deep as his fingers could.
Your cunt was being stretched-out to lengths you never thought about before.
Not only were Choso’s fingers thicker than yours, but his tongue was something ravenous- no matter how much you’re flinching in sensitivity, he isn’t slowing down. “Mmm-” He groans, barely breathing through even his flared nostrils. You’re hit with the distinct feeling that he thinks he doesn’t even have to breathe as long as he had you on him like this - “Mmm, hold still.”
Taking advantage of the fact to lavish your sensitive inches with kiss upon kiss. To grind his nose down purposefully on your clit. To glide his metallic piercing across those hidden spots. To bash your poor g-spot in again and agaaaain with his fingers before his tongue’s coming to the rescue to soothe the slightly raw sting-
So it’s not long before you’re throwing your head back and cumming.
Perhaps the strongest you’ve ever felt when you’re in the throes of your high.
You barter your hips forwards and keep up a steady pace - one that’s making Choso hit the exact spots you wanted him to during the peaks of your high. The utmost peaks. “Shit—shit, just like that.” Breathless. “K-keep going, baby, it feels so good.”
And he doesn’t even answer - too caught up in fucking you through your orgasm.
In the way you shudder above him. In the way you’re only getting even sweeter by the second-
Bodyheat raising a few degrees in temperature; your heart sings and the bed creaks with how much you’re jostling from above. This was even better than touching yourself to videos of him, there were so many thrills of bliss that he’s wringing out of you- like he’d wring out of himself during his solo videos.
With both his fingers and his tongue, slurpin’ and sliding. Those doe-like eyes of his are edging straight to the back of his skull as he feels your drenched walls cleeeeench around his pierced tongue, as though it’s the best thing he’s ever fucking felt. And you’re acting on impulse - you really are - because the coffee table was positioned right beside the foot of the bed.
And all you had to do was reach your arm out to grab the simple camera there. Turning it into your point of view as Choso’s sweaty brown bangs stick to his forehead, as sweat trickles down his temple, as he lets out soft yet unyielding moans whenever you’re squeezing your thighs around his head.
@cockycockowner: no homo but that’s the most beautiful man i’ve ever seen.
@theh0rniestsoldier: woah he’s PUSSYDRUNK
@Fishygurodad: Show me his POV.
@daddytoeknee: Don’t you know that she’s his girl now smh?^^
@daddytoeknee: Movie-core- wya ml??
Choso cocks his head and keeps making out with your pussy in all the ways that make your toes curl—pleasure elongating from your orgasm and spreading into every part of you. Your vessels, your cells, your atoms.
They’re all buzzing with pleasure and still aching for more once Choso finally pulls away with a loud pop! of his lips releasing.
When they do, you’re sneaking a look down at him and noticing just how red n’ swollen they were. Even the skin around his jaw was flushed with the constant ramming contact. And the viewers are just gobbling it up - subscribing bells keep dinging here and there, and everywhere.
Just a single look at his stats on-screen reveal that Choso’s climbed up to 870k just since you’d started this stream.
And it’s after a little while - after he’s had his fill - that the dark-haired man finally taps at the side of your thigh to gesture for you to get up. Though, even then, he’s tightening his grip on your body—going against his own fucking instruction to press a final few open-mouthed kisses before he’s done.
He chases after your pussy with his maw for a little- before he’s finally sitting up.
And it’s only then that he seems to notice the camera in your hand, blinking his glazed eyes a few times to make sure he isn’t dreaming things up. Once it finally registers, the most attractive grin spreads across his face. “You changed POVs?”
“Had to.” You admit, “I wanted them to see how pretty you are…”
“Guess you finally learned about sharing, hm? Greedy girl.” He chuckles darkly to himself. And then he starts looming closer, “But you realize that the show’s not done yet, right?”
You gulp.
@Fishygurodad: Fuck her already, damn!! I’m only here for her.
@2coolforcond0ms(i’mavirgin): Hate to admit it, but he’s lowk right. I think I’ve discovered I’m bi…
@vampzo333: ^^
@girrrrrrrrrrth: ^^
“So impatient.” He looks at the monitor, reading the chat and tuts. “Honestly- so ungrateful. I should end the stream right here and fuck her on my own terms.”
There’s a frenzied flurry of comments- all of which you were sure were begging for Choso not to stop and bashing that one commenter for attempting to start a revolution. To which you’re only giggling and handing over the camera to him.
Choso - as the expert - then positions it somewhere by the edge of the fluffy pillows: where they’d be able to see the expanse of both your bodies and where you’d soon be connected…
And then you’re shedding your clothes in a hurry- making it to your smart blouse before he’s reaching a hand up and tearing through it. The buttons hit the floor, and at your noise of displeasure Choso merely lets out a half-delirious giggle.
He leans in and whispers, “I-I have a Phantom of the Opera t-shirt I’d love for you to wear.”
The change in demeanour gives you utter whiplash, and you can’t help but stare at him open-mouthed.
“What?” Choso asks, next moving on to shrugging off his own fabrics. They’re landing on a heap beside the bed, and your lips slightly part at the display of his red-hot erection—it’s just as large and sensual as all those streams had proven him to be. Polished strawberry top. Slender veins along the middle.
A happy trail of dark brown - nearly black - glistened with the splattered remnant of his precum. Just like the gleaming mess across his chin, mouth, and cheekbones that Choso wore like a medal.
He was slightly longer than even on camera- and even prettier up-close. Way up close- he shuffles his body up yours n’ fucks your tits a few times to dollop out glistening translucent precum across yours tits.
“Lighting’s not the best here.” Choso explains- or at least attempts to pin an explanation onto that. Onto something he’s clearly been wanting to do for so long. “Had to highlight ‘em, baby.”
You scoff, “It’s just…” Throwing a cautious glance at the camera, you lower your voice. “You’re so different from how you are in real life.”
“Oh? And how did you expect me to be, huh?” He positions himself between your legs - wrapping both of them around his waist. Before then thinking better of it and throwing them even more lewdly around his neck instead—his plush priggish tip kisses your entrance. “Did you expect me to be like…”
He trails off.
He doesn’t need to complete the rest of his sentence- and you don’t think you’d have heard him even if he tried.
Because in that very moment, Choso’s jerking his pale hips back a mere few inches—then plopping his globular tip between your pussylips and push-push-puuuuuushing. Fucking past the initial restraint of your first ring of muscle, he’s funneling in some thick inches that make your heels bang against the muscles of his back.
And he doesn’t even seem to notice.
He doesn’t even seem to breathe as he’s letting his cock swerve inside. Get suctioned inside. Get his Prince Albert’s piercing crept down your sensitive innards. Get gobbled up between your greedy legs-
You clench ‘round him and Choso throws his head back with a low, broken moan.
“Oh p-please—” He’s babbling out through unsteady pink lips, a lazy line of dribble starting up from one corner of his mouth. Those long lashes of his flutter as he’s reaching one bulky hand up to grip the headboard, and placing his right one on your hips- keeping you steady.
Fingers trembling. Muscles rippling.
@likezmenpregnant: Woah…make him do that again…
@sixeyesorsixh0les: SUBBY CURSE HELLO??
@whimperwhiteboywhimper: oh I am SO here for this
@Fishygurodad: Whatever…
Your eyes bulge once his throat cracks with what sounds like a whimper—“Please it feels so good.” And though you couldn’t quite make it out, even the chat seemed stunned as Choso punctures out a broken stutter of his hips. Delving a few inches into your goopy insides- though not enough to bottom out completely, as you’re still too wound-up for him to fit completely. And you’re able to pinpoint exactly where he’s using the orbed metal of his first piering. With more to come…“Ngh- oh.” Broken noises emanating into your eardrums and the mic. “It f-feels shooooo good, baby.”
Choso’s head drops into the crook of your neck, and there - and there - you’re feeling his cheeky grin.
And suddenly you’re understanding.
Oh—he was toying with you.
And he was doing it in a way that’d completely fooled you- and perhaps all of his viewers, too.
But before you’re able to open your mouth to bite back something at him, Choso staggers his hips back and gives you a vicious jackhammer with his cock, “O-ohhhhh, my god—” Your toes curl atop his shoulders, slippery with sweat. He hadn’t even rammed all the way inside yet, and yet the slightly left-leaning angle of his shaft was driving you wild.
Big and thick.
Running the slick globe of his tip down your walls, Choso probes a direct hit to that spot you loved so much. And he knew you loved it so much—he’d mapped out your entire pussy earlier, of course.
And yet, he’s still gasping as though the pearls gates of heaven had descended right here and there. He’s letting his sweet caramel eyes widen convincingly as he peers down at you, “I-is that…the spot, baby?”
@Curse’swifey: HE sounds SO NGH.
@daddytoeknee: Daddy likey…
@daddytoeknee: Also Movie would’ve really LOVED this, huh?
You hiss, “Curse, you should already know-”
“But how could I know—?” He exclaims. “This is my first time, after all…” Then Choso’s plastering his clammy tattooed hips - with a snake on the side - to yours, as though the two were connected by the force of the world’s strongest magnets: pulling and pushing, pulling and pushing. Every single battering ram of his mazing cocktip ends up lodged against your sweetly bruised g-spot, marking his circumference out with the sheer pace at which he was hitting it.
“Shit—” Your nails clench on the sheets, and feeling jealous- Choso guides them to fist his hair instead. “Shit, right there. It f-feels so good-”
“There?” The once-nerdy man breathes out in awe. Disbelief every single time - or at least the mocking imitation of one. Swipin’ a line of precum down your nervy spot once more, “Th-there, baby—?”
Something breathy- octaves higher in his tone. “Yes- yes there-”
“There-” Choked up and ruined. Husky grunts hatching in the back of his throat. There was something there in his words that you couldn’t quite pinpoint—a sort of undertone of primal need, primal amusement as he ruined your pussy with his speedily pap-papping hips, but acted as though he had no idea what he was doing. Every single syllable uttered was met with a thorough whack of his curved cockhead against your particular spot- “There there there there- there-”
“Fuh-fuuuck-”
“So this g-spot’s really m-mine now, baby?” Choso asks.
You whine, back arching off the mattress. “Yes-”
“Does she really have my mark on it now?”
“Yes…?” Eyes shooting open as you’re half-registering his question in your hazed brain. He bores his dark eyes down at you intensely. And as though to emphasize his point, you’re feeling his perfectly round tip squeezing into your throat by the next few thrusts. Deeper and deeper.
His Jacob’s Ladder starting to ease its frigid way past your entrance and glide across the roof of your cunt. It was a sensation like nothing you’ve ever felt before.
Choso probes even more, “I-is she really shaped to the shape of my cock now?”
“Cho—ngh.” Quickly shutting your cockdrunken self up. Quickly reaching a ringed hand up to squeeze your throat- before he’s languidly snaking his way up to squeezing your pretty cheeks together.
Smushing your face in a way that was almost disrespectful- though, not that you were in any state of mind to call him out on it. And there’s a mean inkling in Choso’s tone as he coos, “Awww, b-baby, why aren’t you answering me?” Another rude slap! of his hips make your own sear in flames- that damn strength of his. Those damn piercings of his. “Is your poor, poor Curse not good enough?”
Before you can answer, he’s looking at the blinking camera.
“My babies, my girl doesn’t love my cock anymore…”
“I do—I do-”
Squeezing his doughy-soft restraints - those contrastingly mean fingers of his - around your cheeks. He’s managing to smush your mouth shut and make you echo out the most pathetically pleading whines—as he fucks you. Determined and targeted.
The glossy rotund edge of his tip presses against your g-spot a few more times before you’re managing to make yourself take a peek at the comments on the monitor.
Almost too far away- almost too blurry with the tears in your eyes.
@Curse’snewestharem: Awwwww poor bby </33
@CCpervnextdoor: I would LOVE your cock, Curse!!
@girrrrrrrrrrth: is it just me or is he teasing us?
@Fishygurodad: ^^Yeah, he’s totally a fraud.
@Curseswombmommy: ^^girl shut up
“Th-they really think you’re oh-so-innocent…” You’re whispering up at him. Overstimulated tears in your eyes.
Breath hitching every time he’s surging his tattooed hips forwards and hitting that one spot particularly hard. Though there was never such a thing as too hard…
And Choso’s shooting you a secret smile - one just between the two of you - before morphing his expression into that of picture-perfect innocence. Roleplaying the demeanor of his nerdy self on campus, mixed with the utterly sultry—sexual way he was draaaaagging his lengthy cock in and out of your cunt.
Eventually, Choso’s emptying his inches out n’ bruising the bottom of your pussy. All of his nine - you seriously felt nine throbbing inches - inches shaping out the in-betweens of your legs. All of the beaded barbells of his Jacob’s Ladder massaging inside- the slitherin’ feeling of them making themselves at home. Zig-zagging and slithering.
He feels the sponginess of your cervix and presses a hand down on your abdomen just to make sure, before changing that excitement into one of almost-genuine bafflement- “I-I really bottomed out?” Choso’s pinkish bottom lip juts out and quivers dramatically.
“Of course, you did.” You’re ready to scoff-
But whatever sarcastic sound was in the back of your throat gets quickly dissolved at the sight of Choso with genuine tears in his eyes. Glistening. “But I never- ngh, never thought I’d be able to.” He puts some more merciless pressure on your stomach that makes you buck—
And the only thing you can do is let your head tip back into the pillows.
The only thing you can do is let out a few mottled moans as he rubs over the small tummy bulge he was fucking into you. Pushing his palm down so that he could feel it.
Whispering out, “I-I never thought this pussy would claim my cock as- ngh, hers, hm?” And for the moment there, you’re completely sure that he isn’t talking to you. Rather, your pussy that was sobbing out squelches after every one of his jackhemmerin’ thrusts. “And it’s not too big, right?”
“N-never—”
“Because m’just a nerd with a- hngh, biiiiiig fuckin’ cock.” How pitiful, right? He’s letting his long, dark lashes flutter as Choso avoids meeting your eyes—as though in shyness. He drills his hips even deeper - one unforgettable strike after the other following every word he spoke. “Just a big- fat- fucking- cock-”
“Please—!” Eventually, your arms reach upwards and you’re grabbing ahold of whatever part of him it is you could reach first. Which just-so-happened to be his bulky deltoids.
Choso’s brows genuinely seem to furrow at the lewdness of you digging your nails into his muscles, leaving your marks for everyone and anyone to see even after this stream has ended. And so he continues in his faux-innocent tone, “Oh? Did that feel good, baby?”
Purposefully slidin’ his cock across your g-spot so that you’d have to cry out. “Y-yeeees—”
“I didn’t even know, baby.” His mouth hangs open, and the most lustrous squelches! echo between your two connected bodies. Your cunt n’ his precum were making such messes…“I had no idea…”
His Jacob’s Ladder leaves your channel feeling raw n’ overstimulated- you feel raw and overstimulated.
And you’re laid-out on the bed dazed and feeling so fucking good as Choso’s picking his pace up even more, you notice for a split-second that his hands have moved. No longer was he holding onto your cheeks n’ watching you squirm—now, the nerdy man hooks both hands around your sweaty thighs and pins them close to his body.
Holding them in place as he leans down, down, dooooooown until the caps of your knees hit your tits.
You’re keening at the stretch, and a searing burn spreads from between your pussy and along your hamstrings. How did he even hide such strength underneath those soft knitted vest? Such a body?
Before you know it, you’re being pressed into your first-ever mating press.
And Choso gapes as though he was just as bewildered as you, “O-oh…did I do that?” He’s fucking asking you—however, when your stunned expression bears no answer, he turns and asks the same question from the camera. The bursts of replies obviously agree n’ tease him. And he’s shaking his head ever-so-slightly, “Did I really bend you in- heh-” A slight chuckle escapes him. “—half, baby?”
And what else can you do but nod and nod and nod—?
“I think this is called a…breeding press?” He cocks his head ever-so-slightly, before shaking his head. “No wait- a mating press.”
“A m-mating press.” You’re repeating lamely.
“I c-can’t believe I’ve folded you into a mating press, baby.” Choso nearly snarls at himself, his hips accelerating until that rouge-tipped cock of his was almost nothing but a blur. “Can’t believe—s’like my body is moving before my mind, ngh. My fat cock’s not hittin’ you too deep, right, my girl?”
“Not in the l-least…”
And he really was long enough to make each and every probe feel as though it was slam-slam-slamming into your throat- the capped crown of his shaft was entering crevices n’ crannies you hadn’t even known you possessed. All marked out precisely by the silvery orb of his Prince Albert’s.
Just then, after your answer, Choso reaches his left hand up to wrap ‘round your throat - and then hauls you back down to meet his slapping hips.
A thrust even harder than the ones before it.
Your breath gets snatched out of your lungs, dissipating into the heady air filled with the contact-riddled sounds of sex. Hard and fast. Only getting harder the longer you have your ankles looped ‘round his neck—“Not too hard, is it, baby?” Chosos asks you once more.
And you don’t have anything to spit out besides, “Oh f-fuck off.”
He gasps dramatically-
Well, not exactly dramatically. But in a way you knew was fake, and in a way that sends the chat exploding into comments.
The nerd pouts cutely, “Well, that’s not very nice…”
You’re rolling your eyes—right before Choso’s genuinely sending them rolling with his two fingers clamped around your clit. Using the silvery edges of his rings, he runs a few massages that end up with you sobbing and blabbering out your pleasure.
@Curse’swifey: FUCKKKKKKKKKK they’re both so hot. THEY’RE BOTH SO RUINED.
@peepeesarebetterfictional: they both look like they’re gonna cum soon hehe
@bewbsRlife: CUM CUM CUM CUM CUM
Biting back. “I would argue th-that that’s not very nice, either.”
“But m’just trying to make my gorgeous girl cum…” And from where he’d been looming his pretty face above yours, Choso then lets his head droop down between your tits. During his ravenous pace, he’s roverin’ his mouth all over to kiss and suck at your tits, your nipples.
His cold lip ring drags across your left areola- and he catches onto the way you’re shivering. Before Choso then grabs your nipple between his lips n’ hollows his cheeks out sucking—“Promise m’just trying to make you feel- hah, good.” He mutters, slightly muffled. “Promise I just wanna fuck my cock raw if it means making my lifelong crush feel good…”
“Cho- Curse, are you…?” Your eyes widen.
And his own flap droopily a few times, “Hmmm?”
And that proved it.
That proved it.
Because Choso Kamo could be pretending to be a stuttering, panting, blushing mess on your heavenly cunt all he wanted- he could pretend to be pussydrunk out of his mind. But at the end of the day, it was impossible to hide when pretend turned into something…more.
When the cocksure streamer that’d been driving you wild all this time morphs into the contentedly pussy-whipped nerd you expected him to be deep down inside.
His eyes genuinely glazed and blinking longingly.
His hair drenched in sweat.
His skin flushed with need- and only flushing even more fiercely the longer he kept his eyes on you.
Without much ado, you’re throwing your hands around his neck and tuggin’ him as far as he could crane his neck when his entire body feels like collapsing onto you and into your maddening pussy.
Choso pistons his hips slightly upwards to hear the slurp of his Jacob’s Ladder sliding across your walls, and he grooooans—
“Curse, baby…” You hum.
“Mhmmmm?” He replies with half-lidded eyes. Barely focused.
This was the big, bad #1 streamer on C4mBoyfriends? As though sensing your thoughts, Choso’s fingers grow a little more frenzied on your clit. “I need you to cum inside, okay?”
He jolts at the idea- that sinful, sinful idea. Before chuckling, “Never had any other plan, baby.” And then he turns to the camera, “What do you think, fuckers? Think my girl deserves to cum?”
@Fishygurodad: Yes.
@Curse’swifey: YES.
@likezmenpregnant: Yesssss~
@girrrrrrrrrrth: yesyesyes.
@daddytoeknee: Hell yeah-
He’s holding out a little longer to make sure there wasn’t a single ‘no’ in there - and had there been one, you’re sure that Choso would have stopped and edged your incoming orgasm until it was a wave of complete agreement.
Luckily for you, they liked you.
And all he does now is press down harder on your g-spot from inside, lingering, and massage a pretty heart on your clit once more, lingering—before a final, thorough stroke is all it takes for you to hurtle into your second high of the night.
For you to arch your body into his chest, and shutter your eyes. “Ch-Cho…”
Barely a whisper. He’s crashing his mouth into yours to make sure that secret between you two isn’t revealed. And you’re moaning deeply into Choso’s mouth as you cum—“Feels so- oh. It feels so…”
“Mhmmmm.”
Unable to even find the words.
The only thing you can do is riiiiiide out the massive wave of your high. It’s torrential; pure bliss floods your system from head-to-toe, and no matter how much you’re squirming your overstimulated hips, Choso only succeeds in batterin’ away his pierced cock into eeeevery single hidden sweet spot inside of you. The ones that prolonged your bliss and left spikes of euphoria leading up to your brain.
Your cunt clenched so tightly around his cock- almost as though you didn’t want him to even pull out. And Choso’s sweaty head drops once more into the crook of your neck as he cums with a shudder.
The knot between his brows deepening, the bedsheet around his knees bunching up as he surges his body upwards. Almost animalistically.
Choso bottoms out his furious, twitching cock and keeps it there- “Oh, fuck…” It didn’t sound like he was acting once his bawling red divot starts splatterin’ out more milky white wads. Deeep in the back of your pussy, right where your womb was, Choso puddles out his ecstasy in long ribbons. “Oh fuck fuck fuck—fuck. Always knew it’d feel this good.”
Wave upon wave.
Toes curling. Eyes scrunching shut.
If you thought his moans were sensual before, then you weren’t prepared for the ones your pussy was able to drag out of him - ragged and hollow utterances of your name. Over and over like a broken record, like a mantra.
He’s fucking into you to milk them out of his hefty balls- then fucking you again just to pump those webbed wads right back in. From the top of his rotund tip and dooooooown to the tufts of hairs at his base. All nine inches of him being used to stuff you till the brim—
You’re sure your insides look like an utter fuckin’ mess by the time he’s slowing his tattooed hips down ever-so-slightly—still shaking from the aftermath of his orgasm. This was far stronger than anything he’s ever experienced before.
Drunkenly, you’re blinking your eyes up at him. “Always?”
He smiles, “Ever since our first lesson of Film 101.” Admitting, he lovingly wipes off a bit of his cum you were foaming between your pussylips. “You referenced Pride and Prejudice when talking about the best lines of dialogue of all time, and I-I’d been a goner since then.”
“Corny…” You snort. Though you can’t help the flutter of your heart.
“So um- coffee after this?”
“It better be dinner.”
He laughs in agreement. “Also I bought a vibrating piercing the other day and have been dying to try it…”
Your eyes widen.
And once you’re helping him pull out- Choso reaches for the camera and gets a good shot of the cum leaking between your legs. Before you’re both waving at it, “Thank you for joining us, today—this was the most fun I’ve had on stream yet- heh.”
You’re shooting the camera a pretty smile, too.
And Choso kisses the corner of your cheeks, “Until next time. This has been Curse and Movie.”
@girrrrrrrrrrth: holy fuck??
@Curse’swifey: WAIT WHAAAAAAAAAAAAT NO WAY-
@bewbsRlife: HOLD ON-
@CCpervnextdoor: SAY SIKE RN?
@bipplruletheworld: oh my god that’s amazing.
@likezmenpregnant: Oh, a love story for the ages~
@yoyoyoureinmypuss: YOU TWO LOOKING FOR A THIRD??
@Fishygurodad: Damn.
@Fishygurodad: Hmu when he messes up.
@daddytoeknee: Stfu he won’t.
@daddytoeknee: Also I totally called it <3
A/N. I did NOT plan to have me inserted and beefing with Toji Fushiguro but here we are-
Synopsis: At first, you knew Seungmin as the guy you made out with on a flight home but once the plane landed, you discovered that he's the son of your father's rival candidate for the upcoming election, causing you to be caught between love and loyalty. (13,6k words)
Author's note: Happy birthday to the agent of chaos, Seungmin ☆
Some people might call it fate, serendipity, or kismet, but you're not the type to believe in romantic clichés like that, so let's just call it a coincidence.
It's merely a coincidence that the car got a flat tire on the way to the airport, causing you to miss the flight you were supposed to be on. Otherwise, you would have been sitting in seat 4B on a completely different plane next to a completely different passenger in seat 4A.
As you make your way to your seat, you notice him immediately. A young man sitting in the window seat next to yours, he possesses a rare, gentlemanly beauty. With refined features, a charming smile, and tousled dark hair, he exudes a sophisticated appeal. In other words, he’s the kind of guy who instantly catches your eye.
He glances up as you stow your bag in the overhead compartment, offering a polite nod. You take your seat next to him, trying to keep your cool even though your heart skips a beat.
There’s something about him that draws you in, something magnetic—a quiet confidence that doesn’t need to be loud or showy to be felt.
After you settle in and the plane takes off, you feel the urge to talk to him. You're usually not the type to strike up conversations with strangers, but for some reason, with him, you can't help it. Also, you realize that if you want something to happen, you have to start somewhere.
“Is this your first time flying out of here?” you ask, turning to him with a smile.
He looks at you, his lips curving into a small smile. “No, I’ve been here before, but it’s been a while," he answers, his voice smooth and calm, making something flutter in your chest.
You introduce yourself to break the ice and make interacting easier.
"Seungmin," he says, taking your hand and holding it for a moment as he introduces himself. "Traveling alone?"
"Yes," you answer innocently.
"Business or pleasure?" he asks, a playful glint in his warm brown eyes.
You stare into his eyes and faintly bite your lower lip before answering, "Hopefully, pleasure."
From there, the conversation flows effortlessly. You talk about everything—from favorite travel destinations to the books you're reading. Something about Seungmin makes it feel so natural, and before you know it, two hours have passed in the blink of an eye.
“I can’t believe we’ve been talking for hours,” you say with a low laugh, glancing out the window at the darkened sky.
The Atlantic stretches endlessly below, and the flight attendants have dimmed the cabin lights, casting a soft, intimate glow over the rows of seats.
“Time flies when the company’s good,” he says, his eyes lingering on you in a way that makes your heart race.
The space between you feels charged now, the conversation slowing as the connection deepens into something more. You can feel the pull—the undeniable attraction that’s been simmering since you sat down. Then you catch him glancing at your lips, and you know he feels it too.
Daringly, you lean in slightly, testing the waters, and he responds by shifting closer. The air between you is electric, and when his hand brushes yours, a spark shoots through you.
Both of you hesitate for a moment, caught in that intoxicating space where everything hangs in the balance until neither of you can resist any longer.
Your lips meet in a soft, tentative kiss, and the world outside the window seems to fall away. His kiss is gentle at first, cautious, testing, but when you respond, he takes it as permission to deepen it. He rests his hand on your cheek, and warmth spreads through you as his lips move against yours in a slow, intoxicating rhythm, making you forget you’re on a plane surrounded by strangers.
For those few moments, it's just you and him, lost in each other, the quiet hum of the plane fading into the background.
When you finally pull apart, breathless and dazed, you exchange a look that says everything. This isn't just some fleeting attraction. There’s something real here, something undeniable.
However, once the plane touches down and the cabin lights flicker back to life, reality begins to creep in. It's the altitude, the change in air, and the fact that you now have both feet on the ground. The intimacy of your shared moments with Seungmin starts to fade as you both prepare to disembark.
Everyone stands from their seats to gather their things, and you can feel Seungmin watching as you reach for your bag in the overhead compartment.
"So…" Seungmin begins as you both shuffle out of the row and into the aisle. "Can I get your number? Or at least, a last name?"
Your heart is still fluttering from the kiss you shared just hours ago, but you hesitate. There’s an inexplicable tug in your gut telling you not to give in so easily, to be cautious. You like him—really like him—but you're not going to make it that easy.
You flash him a playful smile. “Hmm... I’m not sure I should make it that easy for you,” you tease, shifting your bag onto your shoulder.
Seungmin raises an eyebrow, his lips curling into a half-smile. “You’re going to make me work for it?”
You nonchalantly shrug, trying to keep things light despite your racing heart. “Let’s just say I like a challenge.”
As you walk together through the terminal, the chemistry between you still crackling, you step outside and notice a car waiting at the curb. The driver, standing beside it, is holding a sign with Seungmin’s name. At first, nothing seems out of the ordinary, until you notice his jacket. The driver is wearing a dark blazer, but pinned to it is a familiar emblem—the logo of a political campaign.
Not just any campaign. It's your father’s rival’s campaign.
Your smile falters as you look more closely, and your heart drops when something clicks. You turn to Seungmin, your mind racing.
“Is that your driver?” your voice comes out sharper than you intended.
Seungmin follows your gaze, looking a bit confused. “Yeah. Why?”
Your throat suddenly feels dry. You clear it before asking the big question. “Are you from the Kim family? The same Kim family running for governor?”
"Yes," Seungmin answers, clearly puzzled.
The Kim family. The Kim family. Your father’s bitter rival in the upcoming election. This isn’t just some random guy you met on a plane—he's the son of the man your father has been railing against for weeks. You feel the blood drain from your face as the realization crashes down.
Seungmin’s expression shifts from confusion to concern. “What’s wrong?”
You unconsciously take a step back. "You’re... you’re a Kim," you say, still in disbelief.
Seungmin opens his mouth to respond, but you cut him off. "Your father and mine—they’re both running for governor."
For a moment, Seungmin seems to be processing what you’ve said. Then his face hardens slightly in understanding. You take another step back, the weight of everything pressing down on you.
“This changes everything,” you whisper.
He looks at you, his eyes searching. “No, it doesn’t have to," he says.
If only he knew how badly you wanted to believe him. But you can’t ignore the reality of the situation. Both of your families are in a brutal political war, and no matter how much you like him, getting involved with Seungmin could blow everything up—for both of you.
"How is it not? Your father accused mine of siphoning money from the city’s budget for his campaign."
"Because he did!" Seungmin says boldly.
"There’s no concrete proof!" you counter.
"Of course, because they know how to make things disappear. Your family is known for their generosity with hush money," he remarks bluntly.
You’ve never been one to argue about things that aren’t your business, but when it comes to your family, you naturally defend them.
"As opposed to your father’s blatant hypocrisy," you calmly reply. "He’s fighting the climate crisis, but his wife keeps taking private jets for her shopping trips."
You come up with a concrete data point. "According to the data, those trips contributed 58 metric tons of carbon—the same amount emitted by 4,625 cars in a day."
That seems to shut him up. His jaw clenches, and it's unfair how good he looks when he's mad.
The driver awkwardly clears his throat, glancing between you both. “Sir, we should get going. Your father’s waiting.”
"It was good to see you," Seungmin says before storming off, childishly bumping your shoulder as he passes.
"Goodbye, I guess," you mutter, scoffing in disbelief as you watch him walk away.
That concludes everything, officially making it an unpleasant coincidence.
-
It was just a coincidence!
That's what Seungmin has been telling himself after spending days wrestling with his feelings, convincing himself that it doesn’t matter, that you are just a fleeting moment, a passing fancy. But the truth is undeniable: no matter how much he tries to push you out of his mind, he just can’t stop thinking about you.
When his friend mentioned that you’re living separately from your family, something shifted inside him. The tension between your families has always been an obstacle, a reason to stay away, but now it seems more like an excuse. If anything, the fact that you aren’t on good terms with your family only deepens his curiosity—and somehow, his feelings.
Seungmin hadn’t planned to find your hotel room, but once he knew where you were staying, he couldn’t help himself. And now, as he stands there, waiting for you to open the door, his heart races in anticipation despite the cool facade he tries to maintain.
After a moment, the door creaks open, and there you are—your hair slightly tousled, your expression showing slight shock to see him there. His heart leaps at the sight of you, but instead of the warmth or excitement he hoped to see, your face remains cold, indifferent.
“Are you stalking me?” your voice is cool, a little too casual, as if you haven’t been thinking about him at all.
There's no going back now, so Seungmin pushes forward. "Well, you're not that hard to track."
You lean against the doorframe, crossing your arms in front of you defensively. “You shouldn’t be here,” you say flatly.
Seungmin notices the flicker in your eyes, something you’re trying to hide. He takes a small step closer, his gaze softening, and playfully says, “Maybe."
You stare at him for a moment, your expression hard, but he sees the hesitation in the way your fingers grip the edge of the door. You’re fighting something, trying to keep a wall between the two of you. He understands why you keep your guard up so high—you’re trying to protect yourself, your heart, and maybe even protect him from the mess that is your life right now.
“You shouldn’t be... with me,” you make it even clearer, but even as you say the words, your voice wavers.
Seungmin takes another step forward, placing his hand near where yours rests. “Let me in, and we'll find out."
Your eyes soften for a brief moment before you quickly look away, the conflict clear in your expression. It’s obvious that you want to shut the door, to push him away, but something is holding you back. Maybe it's the same thing that brought him here in the first place—the connection, the spark between you that refuses to be ignored.
The conflict in your eyes only encourages Seungmin. He leans against the doorframe, his eyes never leaving yours. "Why are you staying in a hotel anyway?" he asks, his voice casual but tinged with curiosity.
You remain aloof, folding your arms across your chest as you raise an eyebrow. “Why should I let my enemy know?"
The coldness in your tone is deliberate, a shield to guard against him, against what you’re really feeling. But he doesn’t back down; his smirk only grows wider.
His hand inches closer to yours as he leans in just a bit closer, making his presence suddenly more overwhelming.
“See, that’s the thing..." his voice drops lower, with a teasing edge.
“What?” you ask, trying to keep your cool even though the proximity makes your heart race.
“We’re enemies,” he states the obvious, his gaze locking onto yours with such intensity that it sends a shiver down your spine.
You let out a sigh, already prepared for whatever line he’s about to throw at you. “And what’s your point?”
Seungmin’s smirk deepens as he leans in even closer, his face now mere inches away from yours. His voice is low and soft, almost a whisper, but filled with mischief.
“Sleeping with the enemy is hot.”
Your breath hitches slightly, but you keep your expression in check, refusing to let him see just how much his words affect you. You tilt your head a little to the side, raising an eyebrow, but the corner of your mouth betrays you with the slightest hint of a smile.
“Is that so?” you respond with a daring smirk.
Seungmin lets out a low chuckle, his eyes flickering with something dangerous and alluring, like he knows exactly how this game is going to end.
As you stand there weighing your options, the tension between you and him becomes unbearable. You can feel the electricity crackling in the air, and despite everything, you find yourself taking a step back, opening the door wider without saying a word.
Seungmin’s triumphant smile tells you that he understands your silent invitation. Without wasting another second, he steps inside, the door closing softly behind him as the world outside fades away.
Before you can even catch your breath, he’s on you—his lips crash against yours with a force that makes you dizzy. The kiss is urgent, an explosion of passion and frustration that has been building between you and him for so long.
His hands grip your waist, pulling you closer as if the mere touch of your skin isn’t enough to satisfy the hunger between you.
All the walls you’ve built, all the reasons you shouldn’t be doing this, crumble in an instant. It doesn’t matter that he’s your enemy. Right now, all that matters is the way his lips brush against yours, the way his breath mingles with yours, the way your hearts seem to beat in sync.
In that moment, nothing else exists but the two of you.
-
Doing it on the bed is overrated to Seungmin, so he grabs you by the waist and swiftly hoists you up, setting you on the nearest table. Fortunately, it's sturdy and at the perfect height for whatever he's planning next.
He plants his hands on the table behind you and aligns his body with yours, fitting just right—hardness to softness, curves to hollows. Oh, he has so many ideas of what to do with you. On second thought, he's fine with paying the fine for property damage if it comes to that.
He leans in slowly, teasing your lips for a kiss, but just a millimeter away from contact, he moves to the side and whispers softly into your ear, "Do you know how many times I’ve thought about this moment?"
You look up at him, eyes wide and seductive, a grin peeking at the corner of your mouth. "I don’t want to know. I want you to show me."
Something flickers in his eyes—something that both scares and thrills you. He places a hand on your waist and glides it up your side, stopping at your ribcage.
"What is it about you..." His words trail off as he places a deep, slow kiss on your lips.
As he keeps your mouth busy, his hand palms your breast through your nightdress. When he pinches your hardening nipple, you gasp at the jolt of sensation.
To return the favor, you slide your fingers beneath his shirt, feeling the hard ridges of his stomach. He's soft yet firm, and if it weren't for the warmth under your fingertips, you’d think he was carved from marble.
"I just can’t stop thinking about you and our kiss," he says, a mix of wonder and disbelief in his voice, before capturing your lips again in a hungry kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth.
Seungmin’s thumb rubs your nipple just right, making your insides melt.
"Look at you, getting weak in the knees for me," he says with a triumphant grin.
He pulls his hand from the table and gives it a new task, sliding under your dress to grip your inner thigh, pulling your hips against his arousal, letting you feel the heat of his desire.
"And what we could have done after that kiss..." he continues, your lips meeting again in a breathless kiss.
Seungmin breaks the kiss to move his lips elsewhere—your neck, your chest. His hand roughly pulls down the front of your nightdress, sending your breasts spilling out. He wastes no time, his lips closing over your skin.
Your hand flies to his hair, tugging as he sucks hard on your breast. You watch as his tongue swirls around your nipple before he fills his mouth with your flesh.
"Seungmin..." you call breathlessly, unsure whether you want him to stop or keep going.
Hearing his name roll off your lips soothes something deep inside him, and he wants to hear it again and again. He pushes the hem of your nightdress up around your waist, and in return, you rip open the fly of his jeans, freeing his swollen member.
"Mmh..." you hum with delight, wrapping your hand around his length, hot and pulsing with desire.
Seungmin mirrors your action, palming your clothed core, his thumb tracing your engorged bundle of nerves. Soon, your underwear is damp with arousal.
"What is it about you, mmh?" he asks, eyes locked on yours.
He pulls your panties aside and runs his long fingers down your folds, drenching them in your essence. As his fingers drag down, he pushes them inside you, earning a broken moan from your lips.
"What is it about you that makes me want more..." He keeps pumping his fingers in and out of you, savoring the way your face contorts in pleasure. "And more, and more..."
As he continues, you fist the front of his shirt, pulling him close, your legs opening wider, bringing his cock even closer to where you want him.
He withdraws his fingers, replacing them with his cock. Your legs are raised slightly higher than the table’s surface, aching for more than just the feeling of his tip rubbing between your folds.
"Stop teasing me," you mutter.
His lopsided grin returns, and before you can react, he thrusts into you hard and fast, burying himself completely inside you.
Your breath hitches, and you moan his name, which he finds incredibly hot. He strokes his tongue over every inch of your mouth, claiming it as he angles his hips to hit your clit.
The tight grip of your body, your sweet mouth, your legs wrapped around him—perfection. He indulges in every part of you. His heart races, his need grows desperate, but he holds back, determined to wait for your high to come first.
When you finally shatter and convulse around him uncontrollably, he allows himself to thrust harder. He grasps your hips, your thighs, pressing your foreheads together so he can look into your beautiful, dazed eyes as he thrusts one last time, losing himself completely as he pours everything into you. As his breath saws in and out, he holds you tight, with no intention of letting go.
The theory is proven: sleeping with the enemy is hot.
-
It’s Seungmin’s third time staying over in your hotel room this week alone, and no, you're not complaining at all. You've already grown accustomed to him—Seungmin is part of your routine now, part of your life, and his absence leaves you feeling restless.
When you're not with him, you recall what he’s done to you: the way he kissed you, caressed you, all the things he's said. Your hand unconsciously flies down to your thigh, wishing he was touching you right now.
But don’t get it wrong—the non-bedroom side of Seungmin appeals to you just as much as the lover side, if not more. He makes you laugh, and he listens to you, even when what you talk about isn’t particularly interesting. He’s comfortable around you, and that makes you comfortable around him. You like how he fills the empty space in the bed, and you also like just lying with him in a comfortable silence that doesn’t beg for questions.
However, tonight is an exception.
As you lie on the bed with Seungmin, still recovering from the passionate lovemaking you shared earlier, you feel the weight of reality slowly creeping back in. The silence between you isn’t uncomfortable, but it feels heavy, as if there are things that need to be said.
You roll over slightly to face him and place your hand on his arm, fingers gently tracing the veins coiling down his inner arm. “I need to tell you something,” you murmur.
Seungmin turns his head to look at you, his gaze soft but curious. “What is it?”
You inhale deeply as you gather your thoughts, looking into his eyes as you begin with the one thing you're sure of.
“I really like you, Seungmin.”
“I know,” he says confidently, one corner of his mouth curling into a half-smirk.
You bring your hand up to cup his chin, gently scratching his jaw with your fingertips as you flash him a soft smile and continue speaking.
“What you don’t know is that my family isn’t speaking to me right now, and that’s something I’d like to change.”
“I didn’t know. I’m sorry,” he says earnestly, softly caressing your cheek.
“My family used to control me—I’m sure you know what that’s like. I rebelled, took off, and a year into it, I found out my younger sister was going through something, and I wasn’t there for her because I was trying to prove some... stupid point,” you explain with a dry chuckle.
His gaze remains steady as he listens to you without interrupting.
“I’m just trying to find my way back in, and I happened to bump into you along the way.”
“And I’m glad you did,” he says, catching your other hand in his and resting it on his chest.
You hold his chin, wanting all of his attention focused on you, because what you're about to say is the most important part of this conversation.
“Being seen with you would send the wrong message, and I really can’t risk making my family more upset right now.”
Seungmin’s eyes soften, and without the slightest hesitation, he nods in agreement. “I understand,” he says calmly.
“Don’t worry, I’m pretty good at secret relationships,” he adds with a playful smirk. “And all the sneaking around... it’s kind of thrilling. I find it really hot.”
You let out a soft laugh, suddenly feeling at ease. “Of course you do.”
Seungmin pulls you closer, gently brushing a strand of hair away from your face before placing a chaste kiss on your lips.
“We’ll keep it a secret, but I want you to know that it doesn’t change how I feel about you.”
As Seungmin presses a tender kiss to your forehead, you feel the warmth and reassurance sinking in. For now, the secret doesn’t feel like a burden—it feels like a shared world that belongs only to the two of you.
-
In under a month, Seungmin has learned a lot about you.
In bed, you respond best when he goes slowly, whispering sweet nothings in your ear. But if he wants something more intense—or anything, for that matter—you’re game and eager to please. He couldn’t ask for a better partner.
Out of bed, you live by routine. You get up at the same time every day, then shower away the evidence of morning sex (because Seungmin loves starting the day off right). Your breakfast usually consists of a cup of black coffee and French toast. You share a kiss before parting ways; you get picked up at the hotel entrance while Seungmin makes his exit through the hotel kitchen.
During the day, you help your father with his campaign at the headquarters, returning to your hotel room around 8 or 9 when you have dinner with your family.
As for your evenings, they belong to Seungmin. When you’re not fooling around like hormonal teenagers, you spend time having late-night snacks, talking about random things, or just cuddling in bed—things Seungmin has never experienced with anyone before.
Day by day, he wants more of you, not less.
Tonight, you both decide to watch something on pay-per-view. You rest your head on his shoulder while your eyes are fixed on the large screen mounted on the wall. From time to time, Seungmin kisses you, and it feels so good having you near, as if he were made to be your lover.
Occasionally, you react to certain scenes in the film, your bare legs shifting beneath the hem of your nightdress.
“Are you wearing underwear?” he jokes into your ear.
You part your legs, giving him the opportunity to find out for himself. It’s funny that he only realizes now—you’ve never turned him down; you’re just as starved for him as he is for you.
Seungmin pouts when his fingers meet silky fabric instead of your tender flesh, but that doesn’t stop him from continuing to touch you. You gasp as he massages your clothed clit, and your head lolls on his shoulder.
It doesn’t take long before you’re wet, your essence coating his fingertips as he traces your folds. His cock aches inside the confines of his jeans, as if it’s been weeks since he last had sex, not just hours. He wants you again—craves that closeness, that connection, that unbelievable, mind-blowing pleasure. No amount of you is ever enough for him.
Before long, you give in and pull him down for a hungry kiss, which leads to another, and another, and another...
The next thing he knows, the credits are rolling on the TV screen—the whole film played while the two of you were busy with other things. At the end of the night, you climb into bed and nuzzle your head into the crook of his neck, wrapping your warmth around his body.
Seungmin brushes a stray hair from your face, his fingertips trailing over the smooth curve of your lips before placing a gentle kiss, tender and possessive.
“Goodnight,” he mutters when he breaks the kiss.
The next morning, he finds you wearing his shirt—the one from the very first night you spent together. He doesn’t know how to describe how he feels seeing you in his clothes, knowing you kept his shirt and have been wearing it; all he knows is it’s a good feeling.
Truthfully, he’s been feeling like this a lot lately—whenever you smile, ask for a kiss, or cross the room just to be near him. But also when the two of you aren’t together. He has spent the past few weeks in a euphoric high, grinning for no other reason than thinking of you.
There’s no doubt about it—Seungmin is stupid in love.
-
The fundraiser party is in full swing, the lights casting a warm, polished glow over the room as it's buzzing with conversations and the clinking of glasses. You stand beside your father, perfectly poised, playing the part of the dutiful daughter.
This night isn’t about you—it’s about him. Every charming smile, every polite nod you give is an extension of the image he wants to project: a perfect family, a perfect father. But you know the truth.
As you watch your father work the room, shaking hands and making connections, you know your role is to boost his image—not because he cares about you, but because you are part of his political strategy. Still, this is your chance to prove yourself, to show him you can be the daughter he wants, even if the real connection is long gone.
Then, out of the corner of your eye, you see Seungmin and his brother-in-law approaching. Your heart skips a beat, but you hurriedly calm yourself down, knowing this isn’t the time for emotions—it’s the time for control.
Seungmin and his brother-in-law stop in front of you and your father. Seungmin’s gaze briefly meets yours for a second, and despite the public setting, the intensity of that look sends a small thrill through you.
“Good evening,” Seungmin’s brother-in-law says politely and formally. “We’re here representing our father tonight, and he sends his regards.”
Your father, ever the politician, gives a thin, practiced smile. “Ah, yes, it’s unfortunate he couldn’t attend himself. I suppose running a campaign must keep him quite busy.”
There’s a subtle edge to his words, a slight sneer that isn’t lost on you or anyone, but fortunately, Seungmin and his brother-in-law remain composed, not rising to the bait.
“Of course,” Seungmin replies calmly. “He’s doing everything he can for the campaign.”
Your father’s gaze shifts to Seungmin, sizing him up before his eyes narrow in curiosity. "Seungmin, isn’t it? I’ve heard good things about you. You’ve been quite the asset to your father’s campaign, haven’t you?”
“Oh, please. I’m just doing the best I can to help,” Seungmin humbly replies, perfectly nailing the model son role.
“It’s refreshing to see someone so dedicated to their family’s success. We could all learn from that, couldn’t we?” your father says, glancing at you, making it clear that his praise for Seungmin is a thinly veiled comparison.
You keep your composure, your smile unwavering, even as a knot of discomfort forms in your stomach. You entertain yourself with the thought that your father has no idea what is really going on—that the very man he is praising is the one you are secretly seeing. The joke is on him.
“Have you met my daughter?" your father asks, gesturing toward you as if you haven’t been standing there the whole time.
Seungmin turns to you, his expression steady, but his eyes flicker with something only you can recognize. He holds out his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Likewise,” you reply, keeping your smile polite. You have to continue acting as if nothing has ever happened between you and him.
Hours pass as you mingle with other guests, but the pressure of keeping up appearances starts to weigh on you. Toward the end of the party, when most of the guests are distracted, you slip away, catching Seungmin’s eye as you do. He follows discreetly, and soon you find yourselves in an isolated part of the building, the muffled sounds of the party still audible.
The moment he comes into sight, you let out a sigh of relief, allowing yourself to drop the mask you’ve worn all night.
"I missed you," he whispers as he steps closer. Before you can respond, he presses his lips to yours, the kiss filled with longing and the tension that has been building up since your last secret meeting.
"I missed you too," you murmur between kisses.
In the dimly lit, secluded hallway, you and Seungmin find a rare moment of peace. His hands cup your face, his lips moving urgently against yours, pouring all the longing and frustration of the past few days into every kiss.
It is reckless, but being with him feels too good to resist. In fact, it feels so good that you almost forget the dark shadow that has been hanging over your mind. Almost.
"My mom found out about us," you blurt out after breaking the kiss.
Seungmin freezes, his lips barely an inch from yours, his brows furrowing as he processes what you’ve just said. "Wait... what?"
“I guess we didn’t fool the doorman,” you say with a heavy sigh as the gravity of the situation sinks in.
For a moment, Seungmin just stands there, panic rising in his chest. If your mom knows, it won’t be long before both of your families find out, and he knows exactly what that would mean for both of you—and for his father’s campaign.
“So... you told her the truth?” he asks, focusing on the possibility that your mom might indirectly support this relationship.
“Obviously, I didn’t want to risk everything with my family for some fling that wasn’t going to last,” you reply meekly.
Seungmin blinks, then his lips curl into a teasing smile. "Oh, so it isn’t just some fling?”
“Seungmin, I’m serious!" you whine in frustration, giving him a playful slap on the chest.
"You can’t keep sneaking into the hotel anymore. It’s too risky, and if my father finds out...” You can’t even finish your sentence without feeling sick to your stomach.
Seungmin’s smile fades as he realizes the danger you are both in. It feels as if the walls are closing in on both sides, and it won’t be long before someone else notices the two of you together. His mind races, trying to think of a solution, somewhere you can be together without the prying eyes of your families.
Just as he opens his mouth to say something, a voice interrupts, and both of you stiffen.
“Seungmin?”
His brother-in-law is standing a few feet away, his eyes narrowing as he glances between the two of you, catching sight of Seungmin’s hand still holding yours.
None of you speak, and in that moment, it feels like the quiet before a storm about to break.
-
Seungmin’s brother-in-law has always been sharp, and tonight is no exception. As you and Seungmin slipped out of the party, thinking you were being discreet, he spotted the two of you. From the moment you met, he sensed something was already there. He observed further, noticing the sneaky glances, the looks that said more than words, and the way you interacted with each other. He must admit, both of you are poor actors.
When his brother-in-law corners the two of you in the hallway, Seungmin braces himself, expecting him to spill everything to his father immediately, knowing what he could gain from it.
“Why aren’t you saying anything?” Seungmin asks, suspicion creeping in. He knows his brother-in-law has always been loyal to the family, especially to his father, so this calm, nonchalant reaction doesn’t add up.
Instead, his brother-in-law glances between you both with a knowing smile and says, "You two are playing a dangerous game, but you know what? I won’t stand in your way."
That doesn't make Seungmin relax. If anything, the words make him more cautious. "And why’s that? Why are you suddenly on my side?”
“Seungmin, I already think of you like my own brother,” his brother-in-law replies simply, with enough sincerity to convince anyone who hears him. “I want you to be happy."
Seungmin remains quiet for a moment, still wary, but realizing he has little choice. Whatever his brother-in-law’s motives are, this is the only lifeline he has right now.
“So, what’s the plan?” Seungmin finally asks, keeping his voice steady.
“I have a boat. It’s docked not far from here. No one checks it, no one comes by." His brother-in-law reaches into the inner pocket of his jacket and pulls out a small set of keys, handing them to Seungmin. "You two can stay there, alone, as long as you need."
Seungmin’s gaze flicks from the keys to his brother-in-law’s face, still unsure if he can fully trust him. But this is the best option you both have right now. He decides to take a leap of faith and takes the keys from him.
"It's docked on the west side, slip twenty-three," his brother-in-law informs him. Before Seungmin can say anything else, he adds, “Oh, you may want to check the first aid kit on the boat.”
Seungmin’s eyebrows knit in confusion. “What for?”
His brother-in-law puts on a mischievous grin. “Let’s just say you’ll find some essentials in there."
Seungmin’s suspicion deepens, but he doesn’t question it further. Maybe his brother-in-law is being sincere, so Seungmin stops overthinking it. On a more important note, you both need a place to hide, and this is as good as it’s going to get. He glances over at you, and with a silent agreement, you both know you have to take this opportunity, no matter the risks.
“Thanks,” Seungmin mutters, cautious but grateful. “I appreciate it.”
His brother-in-law pats him on the shoulder, giving him a reassuring nod. “Just be careful,” he says.
With that, you and Seungmin slip away into the night, heading toward the boat where, for at least one night, you can finally be alone.
-
The boat is bigger than you thought it would be, bobbing gently in the moonlit water. As you step onto the deck, you feel a sense of freedom, as if, for once, the outside world can’t reach you. You settle into the small but comfortable space, the tension between you fading into something softer, more tender.
When it’s just the two of you, you can finally let your guard down and be your authentic self. You walk up to him and slip into his arms for a warm embrace.
"It's just you and me now," you say, resting your forehead against him.
"Just you and me," he repeats, gently tilting your head with his hand on your chin, and places the gentlest kiss, treating you like a fragile piece of art.
Seungmin leads you through the cabin, the scent of saltwater and wood lingering in the air, mixing with the faint aroma of the sea breeze drifting in from the open hatch.
“This is nice,” you comment, running your fingers along the edge of a worn leather couch. “But do you think your brother-in-law keeps any food around? I’m starving.”
He lets out a soft chuckle and makes his way to the small kitchenette, opening the fridge with a creak. “Looks like frozen pizza is on the menu,” he says, pulling out the pack and showing it to you.
As Seungmin prepares the frozen pizza and tosses it into the microwave, you head to the bedroom to find something comfortable to wear. In the bathroom, you find a soft bathrobe neatly folded on the top shelf. Without a second thought, you change out of your dress and into the robe. As you tie the belt around your waist, you sigh in relief, feeling a great sense of comfort.
By the time you return, Seungmin is plating the pizza, the smell filling the small cabin. He has also found a bottle of champagne in the cabinet, the label a little worn and the drink lukewarm. Both of you eat in comfortable silence, exchanging small smiles between bites, enjoying this rare moment of normalcy.
When the food is all gone, you lean back in your seat with a contented sigh. The dinner is simple, yet it feels more special than any you’ve had before.
Being the neat person he is, Seungmin wastes no time cleaning up after dinner.
“You can clean up later,” you tell him, sipping your warm champagne.
“There’s not much to clean anyway,” he replies, taking the dirty plates back into the cabin.
Remembering what Seungmin’s brother-in-law said before you left, you decide to go on a little hunt for the first-aid kit he mentioned and see what’s inside. It doesn’t take long to find it tucked away in one of the cabinets in the control room. As you open it, you blink in surprise.
“Well, well…” you murmur, pulling out a small Ziploc bag among the usual bandages and ointments.
Seungmin raises an eyebrow when you bring it over and show him. He shakes his head, already deciding it’s a bad idea.
You shrug, holding the pack out to him with a playful smile. “Why not? Let’s live a little.”
“We shouldn’t even be touching his things,” he says, leaning back on the sun lounger.
“What are you talking about? We’ve just eaten his frozen pizza and drunk his champagne,” you remind him, settling onto his lap.
“I can buy those things back for him,” he replies, folding his hands behind his head.
“But he mentioned it, so that means he’s fine with it, right?”
He shakes his head, eyes closed, unwilling to hear more persuasion.
“Come on,” you urge, taking a rolled blunt out of the bag and rolling it between your fingers. “Just one. It’s a special night, isn’t it?”
He opens his eyes and finds himself unable to resist you when you smile so sweetly. He reaches for the blunt.
“Alright, fine," he gives in, "but just one.”
You light it and take a slow drag, letting the smoke curl lazily into the air before handing it over to him. His fingers brush against yours as he inhales, and you watch as his shoulders visibly relax.
The two of you take turns smoking, the night enveloping you in a peaceful cocoon. The quiet of the water, the gentle sway of the boat, and the faint glow of stars above make everything feel far away, as if the world and its complications couldn’t touch you here.
“I could get used to this,” you softly mutter, your voice barely louder than a whisper as you nuzzle into Seungmin’s side, sharing the sun lounger with him, the blunt hanging loosely between your fingers.
Seungmin exhales long and slow, his arm coming around your shoulders to pull you close. “Yeah, me too.”
The smoke, the sea, and the quiet lull you into a different kind of peace—an escape from everything, if only for tonight.
With one last drag, you finish the rest of the blunt yourself. You rest your head on Seungmin’s shoulder, your hand on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his breath. For once, you don’t feel like you’re running away from something.
“I wish it could always be like this,” you murmur, more to yourself than to him. “I feel happiest when it’s just us, alone like this.”
Seungmin shifts slightly, his arm tightening around you as if he wants to hold onto this moment forever. He presses a soft kiss to the top of your head, and your heart flutters in response. He doesn’t say anything at first, just holds you closer, and you wonder if he feels the same way—that the world outside seems so distant when it’s just the two of you.
“I feel it too,” he finally says. “When it’s just us… it feels like everything makes sense. Like we’re the only two people in the world that matter.”
His words make your heart ache with a bittersweet warmth. In a moment like this, it’s easy to forget about the chaos waiting for you back home.
Here, it’s just you and him.
You stare at him, your faces merely inches apart. The moonlight casts a soft glow across his features, and God, he’s just so beautiful. His eyes meet yours, and the longer you look into them, the more you see the depth of his feelings. There’s something tender, something vulnerable—you’ve never seen him look at you like this before.
Seungmin swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing as if he’s gathering courage. Then, in a soft yet steady voice, he says, “I love you.”
The words hang in the air, suspended between you, and for a moment, you forget how to breathe. He’s never said it before, and hearing those words now, spoken under the starry sky with the waves lapping gently against the boat, it feels… magical.
“I love you,” he repeats, his voice more certain this time, his eyes steady on yours. “I don’t care about the rest of it—our families, the politics, all of it. I love you."
Tears well up in your eyes, not from sadness, but from the overwhelming joy of hearing him say those words. You feel the sincerity in them, the weight of what it means for him to admit it, to declare it, despite everything.
You reach for him, cupping his face in your hands. Using your thumb, you softly rub his cheek. “I love you too, Seungmin, and I think I’ve loved you for longer than I can admit," your voice breaking as you try to hold back your emotions.
Seungmin leans in, closing the small distance between you, and kisses you softly, slowly, as if savoring the moment. His lips are warm against yours, and in that kiss, you feel everything: his love, his promise, his fear, and his hope.
-
It's the wine, the blunt, the sense of freedom you're feeling at the moment, and the way you keep replaying the moment Seungmin said those three words in the back of your mind—all of those things make you high, so high that you believe you're on the way to cloud nine.
As you sit straddling him, looking down at him, you feel more attracted to him than ever. It's his beautiful face, his short dark hair that complements his features well, how the white shirt he's wearing accentuates the breadth of his shoulders, and the rolled sleeves exposing the evident veins on his arms. Oh, he's just so fucking hot.
You prop your hands on each side of his head and look into the two orbs of his eyes. He remains unfazed by the intensity of your stare, but he would be stupid not to see the want in your eyes.
Unable to help yourself anymore, you lean in and kiss him, and it feels so good when he kisses you back, responding to your desires. But the kiss is just one of many; you want more, you need more.
As your lips are locked in a rapturous kiss, you take his hand and put it around your neck; his touch feels hot against your skin. To allow him more access, you untie your bathrobe and let it fall, pooling around your waist, exposing your bare chest to him.
Seungmin slowly rises from his seat, wrapping his arms around you without breaking the kiss. You whine when he finally detaches his lips and moan when he places them on your neck next.
"Seungmin," you seductively mewl his name as he nibbles on your ear, your head spinning when he sucks on the sensitive skin.
Your heart is pounding in anticipation of what he's going to do next. You look down and find him gazing at you through his lashes as he drags his lips down your chest. His hands are also making their way to the front when, all of a sudden, he does the unexpected.
Seungmin pulls your bathrobe back on you, tying the belt around your waist with his hand. You look at him in slight shock and disbelief; it's a moment later that you're finally able to speak again.
"Why not?" you ask, blinking at him.
"Not here," he simply says, endearingly tucking your hair behind your ear and then kissing your cheek.
What he does would usually make your heart flutter, but you feel bitter from his indirect rejection of your want. "Yeah but why not?"
"Because it's indecent," he innocently answers.
You scoff because back in the hotel room, Seungmin wasn’t shy about doing indecent things—some of which are far more than just indecent.
"Why? We're on a boat, we're alone, we're under a starry sky... it's romantic," you point out why doing it here would make for a special occasion.
He takes your hands and looks at you. "Then let's get inside."
"No," you flatly refuse with a pout.
"Come on," he says, shaking your hands to get your attention. Unsuccessful, he leans in and kisses your jaw before bringing his mouth close to your ear.
"I know another way to make you see stars," he whispers in a low, sultry voice.
Ugh! You hate how easily he cracks through your defenses. You smile at him and nod, allowing him to lead the way to the cabin, through the small living room, and finally into the cramped bedroom.
He grabs you by the waist and steers you to the bed, laying you down gently. He doesn’t hesitate to come on top of you, hovering above you as he captures your lips in a hard, deep kiss that consumes you whole.
Your hands refuse to remain idle; you pop every button on his shirt without looking, and when you’re done, you part it open, impatiently placing your hands on his body, trailing the outline of his abs with your fingertips.
Seungmin lets go of the kiss to take a breather, helping you with the shirt, shaking it off his shoulders, and tossing it aside. But the task is not done there; you loop your finger around the belt loop on his slacks and pull him close.
The head of his belt clinks as you take it off and hastily tear open the zipper. Without wasting a second, you pull his slacks down until they pool around his ankles.
"Oh, la la," you exclaim delightedly, biting your lips at the sight of him standing gloriously naked before you.
"Are you going to do something about it?" he asks, his voice heavy with assertiveness, hinting that he demands you to.
"Uhm... not sure," you coyly say, slowly wrapping your hand around his length and stroking it as it gradually hardens in your palm.
You land a few licks under the tip and around the length, and when you’re ready, you take him into your mouth, compensating the rest with your hand. He feels hot, hard, and veiny, slipping in and out of your mouth while you maintain eye contact with him.
Seungmin grips your shoulder, his nails faintly digging into your flesh, but he’s aware that it might hurt you, so he tangles his fingers in your hair, tugging at it when pleasure overwhelms him.
"Stop!" he gently says, though his voice remains assertive.
You slowly pull away with a string of saliva connecting your lips to the tip of his cock. He runs his thumb over your lips, separating them before shoving it into your mouth, and you gladly suck on it.
There's a loud pop when Seungmin takes his thumb out, and with his hand on your chest, he pushes you onto the bed, sending you lying back down. He parts your legs and kneels on the floor, wanting to return the favor to you.
All the times he has pleased you with his mouth, he’s done a wonderful job, so you lay on your back and close your eyes, knowing you’re in for a treat.
The kisses he places on your inner thighs are electrifying; his lips are soft as they land on your clit, and his tongue feels hot as he licks a long stripe down your folds. He uses two fingers on each side to pull your folds apart, diving in and drowning himself in you.
"Oh..." you moan as his tongue teases your entrance.
Every kiss, every lick, every place his tongue explores, and every gentle pressure he applies to your clit—Seungmin calculates everything to give you the utmost pleasure. But tonight, he isn’t being generous; he stops just when it starts to feel so good.
You almost groan in frustration, but before it can escape your mouth, he catches your lips in a hungry kiss, making you forget your complaints, your ability to speak, and your whereabouts, but not your wants.
You part your legs wider to welcome him, seeking that closeness, wanting his delicious cock as close as possible to where you want him the most.
"If you don’t put it in, I think I’ll die," you dramatically mutter against his lips.
Seungmin lets out a chuckle and kisses you again. "I want that embroidered on a pillow."
The feeling of your needs finally met—oh, there’s nothing like it. When it comes to Seungmin, though, you’re not sure you’ll ever be satisfied; you keep wanting more.
More of those hard kisses on your lips, more of those hands kneading your breasts and gripping your legs, more of those moans slipping from his mouth into yours, more of his cock slipping in and out of you, more of those hard, shallow thrusts making your eyes roll back—more and more and more...
He isn’t lying when he says he knows another way to make you see stars. As you hit your high and your eyes screw shut, you see nothing but stars.
Seungmin comes not long after, collapsing on top of you. His lips immediately search for yours, kissing you with such haste when they find you.
When you finally pull apart, you both lay there in the silence of the night, wrapped in each other and the warmth of this tender moment. The world outside feels far away, and for now, this is enough—just the two of you, tangled in each other, both of your heads full of stars.
-
Things are going well. Your relationship with Seungmin remains a secret, and the results of the pre-vote are out, revealing that your father is leading the race by an 8% margin. Everyone is happy, all is well—but you have this nagging feeling in your chest that things won’t stay like this for long. You hope it's for the better, and God, you hope that's true.
To celebrate your father leading in the pre-vote, your family holds a brunch this afternoon. Being invited to this is a significant step toward winning your way back into the family. Your little sister has taken your hand under the table, squeezing it as a sign of solidarity. She hasn’t said it out loud, but you can feel that she’s happy to have you here, part of the family again, even if only for a moment.
However, as the minutes tick by and your father doesn’t appear, a gnawing feeling settles in your chest. You try to brush it off, focusing on how far you’ve come. After all, you’re here, included, proving that you can still be the daughter your family wants you to be.
Then your mother calls you and asks you to follow her to your father’s study. She makes you sit on the leather sofa in anticipation. Her expression is soft, but there’s something behind her eyes that makes your stomach churn, and you know something is wrong before she even speaks.
“When was the last time you saw him?” she asks, her voice quiet but direct.
Your mind flashes back to that night with Seungmin on the boat. You haven’t told anyone, and as far as you know, no one has seen you. But your mother’s gaze is sharp, and she’ll know if you lie.
“I… I went on a boat with Seungmin,” you admit meekly, your voice small and low. “But we were discreet. I swear, no one saw us.”
Your mother lets out a heavy sigh, her hand going to the nape of her neck as she massages it lightly. She doesn’t say anything but takes out her phone from her tweed jacket, tapping the screen a few times before handing it to you. Your eyes widen as you look at the screen, the shock hitting you like a punch to the gut.
There on the screen are photos—compromising photos. Some show you smoking; others are more intimate, even naked. You feel the blood drain from your face. These are pictures from that night on Seungmin’s brother-in-law’s boat, now plastered across the internet.
“Mom…” you stammer, trying to make sense of it. “There was no one there except us. This can’t be happening. It wasn’t Seungmin… it couldn’t be.”
“I’m afraid you weren’t as discreet as you thought,” your mother says, her expression composed but with a grave undertone. “Your father found out about the relationship. He’s furious, and this… this could ruin everything for him.”
You feel faint and hurriedly lean against the table to steady yourself. “No… no, it can’t be. Seungmin would never—”
The idea of Seungmin betraying you is unthinkable, but the pictures don’t lie. Someone had been there, someone had taken them, and now your life is spiraling out of control.
“I don’t believe it’s him,” you insist, shaking your head in denial. “Seungmin wouldn’t do this to me. He cares about me.”
“Think about what’s best for you,” your mother says, her voice rising slightly as she struggles to keep her composure. “Whether it’s Seungmin or his family behind this, we can’t take any more risks. You need to stay away from him, at least until I can figure out what’s really going on.”
Your heart aches, torn between your love for Seungmin and the loyalty you’re still trying to prove to your family.
“I’m sending you back to your hotel,” she says in a tone that leaves no room for argument. “And you’re not to leave until I say it’s safe. Your father is already angry enough, and we can’t afford any more mistakes.”
Before you can protest, she leaves, the door clicking shut behind her, leaving you standing in the middle of the room. You want to believe in Seungmin, but now doubts plague your mind. A question gnaws at you: Is your love for Seungmin worth risking everything you have left?
-
The car ride back to the hotel is a blur of tears and shattered trust. Your chest feels heavy, the weight of betrayal pressing down on you, suffocating you.
The man you trusted, the one who held you close, is part of the very family responsible for leaking those photos. Whether Seungmin is directly involved or not doesn’t matter anymore—his family is, and that’s enough for you to push him away.
The car pulls up to the curb, and the doorman is there instantly, opening the door and offering his hand to help you out. You feel faint, your legs trembling from the emotions raging inside, but you force yourself to stand, to walk, and to keep your head up if you can.
Just as you step onto the pavement, a familiar hand grabs your arm. You stop in your tracks, your heart aching in your chest.
Seungmin. He’s there, his eyes wide with worry, as if he hadn’t expected to see you like this. And oh, the sight of him, the man you thought you could trust, brings everything crashing down.
Without thinking, you rush at him, your fists pounding against his chest in a fit of anger and betrayal.
“How could you?!” you scream through your tears, each punch that lands fueled by the pain inside. “How could you let them do this to me?!”
Seungmin doesn’t fight back. He just stands there, letting you hit him, his face filled with shock and pain as he tries to reach for you, to explain.
“It wasn’t me,” he tries to say, but the words are lost in the chaos of your emotions. “You know I’d never—”
“Stop lying!” you shout, cutting him off.
Your emotions hit their boiling point, the pain overwhelming you. “You expect me to believe you didn’t know? That this wasn’t some way to tear me apart?”
His eyes widen in disbelief, his hands reaching for you, but you slap them away. “I don’t know who’s doing this, but I would never let anyone hurt you like this. You have to believe me!”
“Believe you? After everything that’s happened? I’ve been humiliated, and you come here pretending like you had nothing to do with it?” Your voice rises with every word, and you’re too far gone, too hurt.
He tries again, stepping closer, but you shove him hard enough that he staggers backward. “I can’t even look at you right now. Get out! Get the fuck out of my face!” you scream, tears streaming down your cheeks.
Seeing you like this is painful for him, but not as painful as knowing he caused this. His hands tremble as he tries one last time to reach for you. “Please, don’t do this—let’s talk—”
Drawn by the commotion, hotel security steps in between you and him, blocking him from approaching you.
“Sir, you need to leave,” one of them says, placing a firm hand on Seungmin’s shoulder.
“Wait! Just let me talk to her!” He tries to push past them, but they hold him back, stronger.
It’s too late. You’ve already turned away, not even sparing him a last glance. He can’t bear the thought of being the cause of all this.
As the door of your hotel room clicks shut behind you, the silence fills the room, and everything comes crashing down again. This time, you don’t have anything left to fight with, so you let the pain and heartbreak consume you, sinking to the floor as tears flood your eyes.
It hits you now—you’ve pushed away the one person you thought you could trust, but everything feels broken beyond repair. It feels like you’re losing everything: your family, your trust, and the man you thought was different.
Leaning against the closed door that seals you off from the outside world, you wonder if there’s anything left to hold on to.
-
The more Seungmin thinks about it, the more certain he becomes that there is only one person who could have leaked the photos—someone who knew about the boat, someone involved. His brother-in-law.
He doesn’t waste any more time. He grabs his car keys and drives straight to his brother-in-law’s place. A storm rages in his chest, anger mixed with dread, his head full of accusations and possible answers.
When he arrives, he skips the courtesies and storms inside. He finds his brother-in-law leaning against the kitchen counter, looking surprised but not startled to see him.
“Seungmin? What’s going on?” he casually asks.
Seungmin doesn’t stop until he’s standing right in front of him, glaring into his eyes, refusing to be fooled again.
“You know damn well what’s going on. You’re the only one who knew about the boat, the only one who could’ve tipped off the paparazzi. Tell me the truth!" He slams his hand on the counter, causing a spoon resting on the edge of a bowl to clatter. "Did you leak those photos?”
His brother-in-law’s face tenses, the calm façade slipping, replaced by panic. “Look, Seungmin, before you go off—”
“Just answer me!” Seungmin urges, his voice cracking with anger. He can’t bear the thought that someone so close to him—someone he thought of as a brother—has betrayed him like this.
After an intense silence, his brother-in-law sighs and rubs his forehead. “Fine. Yes, I hired the paparazzi.”
Deep down, Seungmin knew this would be the answer, but it doesn’t stop the anger and betrayal surging through him. His hands ball into fists at his sides, his body shaking from holding back violence.
“You set us up? Why?”
His brother-in-law looks at him and licks his lips before answering, “It wasn’t just me, alright? I had permission—permission from your father.”
Seungmin could understand his brother-in-law’s motive: he wants to get on his father’s good side, to be acknowledged and approved. But his father? His own father, whom Seungmin respects and admires, someone he has helped campaign for because he believes in him?
“My father? He knew? He approved this?” Seungmin stammers, struggling to comprehend it.
“Your father’s been watching you, Seungmin. He knows about your little affair with her, and he’s not happy. So yeah, he gave the go-ahead. The idea was to expose her, make her the problem,” his brother-in-law explains, and as if he couldn’t say anything more stupid, he adds, “It’s nothing personal, just politics.”
Seungmin knocks everything off the table—plates, glass, spoon—all clattering to the floor. “You ruined her life for politics!" he shouts, hoping it’ll knock some sense into his brother-in-law’s crooked mind.
“You know how this works, Seungmin,” his brother-in-law says calmly, still leaning against the counter. “Your father is just trying to protect you.”
“Protect me? By destroying her? By ruining her reputation?” Seungmin’s jaw clenches as he fists his hands so hard his knuckles turn white.
“She’s not innocent in all of this, and you know you shouldn’t have gotten involved with her in the first place,” his brother-in-law says, his gaze piercing.
It’s betrayal upon betrayal. Seungmin’s mind is still struggling to process the fact that his father orchestrated the entire thing, using his brother-in-law to tear them apart.
Without another word, Seungmin storms out, but his brother-in-law daringly runs his mouth once more, “You’ll thank me later, Seungmin. Trust me.”
But Seungmin isn’t listening. His mind is busy planning what to do next—how to fix this, how to make things right. His number one priority is not letting his family ruin your life any further.
-
Seungmin storms into his father’s office, despite his father clearly being in the middle of an interview. His father hurriedly signals his secretary to escort the interviewer out of the room, knowing Seungmin is barely containing his anger.
The man behind the desk doesn’t flinch, already knowing why his son is there. He’s always composed and in control, but today, Seungmin isn’t going to let him keep that control.
“You set me up,” Seungmin spits, his voice sharp with betrayal. His father looks up, surprised but not shaken. “You used your own son to destroy her, to ruin her life, just because of some political rivalry?”
His father leans back in his chair, calmly putting his hands together in front of him. “It’s not about you, Seungmin. It’s about our family’s legacy. You were distracted, involved with the wrong person. I had to make sure you stayed focused on what really matters.”
“What really matters?” Seungmin’s voice shakes with disbelief and anger. “What really matters is that you took someone I care about and humiliated her! For what? Your campaign?”
“That girl was trouble,” his father remarks coldly. “She’s from a family that stands against everything we’re trying to build. You should have known better.”
“I don’t care about the politics!” Seungmin shouts, stepping closer to his father’s desk, unafraid for the first time of going against his father’s principles. “I care about her, and you—you ruined her for your own gain.”
His father stands, towering over the desk and staring intensely into his eyes. “You think you can just walk away from this? From your family? We’ve sacrificed everything for you, Seungmin. You’re going to be a part of this, whether you like it or not.”
“No, I’m not. I’m done with all of this. I’ll never be a part of this family again,” Seungmin says, shaking his head, done being a pawn in his father’s political games.
His father’s eyes darken, and a cold smirk rises at the corner of his lips. “You think this is all about one girl?” he scoffs.
“You’re naïve, Seungmin. You haven’t been in this world long enough to understand how power works. Sacrifices have to be made. And if you walk away from this family, from me, there’s more where that came from.”
Seungmin’s chest tightens with disbelief. “What do you mean by that?”
His father leans forward, his voice low and dangerous. “You think those were the only photos? There’s more from her past. I have them, and if you walk away now—if you so much as think about turning your back on this family—I will release every last one. She won’t have a life left to salvage.”
His father pulls open a drawer and takes out a file, showing Seungmin the photos he’s been keeping as a weapon. “But if you stay—if you fall in line and keep your head down until the election is over—I’ll make sure they disappear.”
Seungmin is hit with another wave of betrayal. His father had planned this all along, dangling her reputation as leverage over him. He expected manipulation, but this? This was beyond anything he could have imagined.
“You’re willing to destroy everything just for power?”
His father doesn’t flinch. “It’s not about power, Seungmin. It’s about winning. And I have won.”
-
TEN DAYS LATER.
The election is over, and his father has indeed won, but to Seungmin, it means he has nothing left to lose.
The man in front of him has torn apart the one thing that means the most to him, and for what? A title? A seat in the governor’s office?
As everyone gathers around his father, congratulating him and celebrating his victory, Seungmin can't help but wonder: does his father feel the slightest bit of disgust for what he did to achieve this win? Seungmin certainly does. He can't look at his father the same way anymore and he refuses being related to him apart from sharing the same DNA.
Seungmin makes his way toward his father, and when he's close enough, he extends his hand. His father doesn't hesitate and grips it, shaking it with a triumphant smile plastered across his face.
"Are you happy now?" Seungmin asks calmly.
"Well, I've won," his father replies with a sickening smirk.
There’s not a hint of remorse on his face for what he did to his own son, which only convinces Seungmin further that he wants no part of this anymore.
"But you've lost your son," Seungmin boldly remarks, each word carrying a finality his father can’t ignore.
Without waiting for his father’s reply, Seungmin turns on his heel and walks away—from his father, his family, everything. He leaves the office behind, as if it’s already become a distant memory.
There's only one thing left to do now.
He drives straight to your father’s campaign headquarters because he doesn't know where else to start. Your family is the only one who knows where you are, and although he doubts any of them would tell him, he can’t—he mustn't—give up.
When he arrives, the place is busy with activity, but it offers a different kind of atmosphere compared to his father’s headquarters. He balls his hands into fists in determination and enters the building without hesitation.
"Apologies, sir, but the headquarters is strictly for staff only tonight," a security guard blocks him from stepping inside.
"I need to talk to someone in there," Seungmin says, hoping the guard will understand and let him through.
"Unless you’ve already made an appointment, we can't let you in, sir," the guard says firmly, crossing his arms and standing in front of the doorway.
Reluctantly, Seungmin steps back, trying to come up with a new plan. He considers waiting outside until one of your family members leaves. It’s a flawed idea, but it’s the best one he has.
Then, as if by divine intervention, your younger sister appears at the reception desk. Seungmin takes a step closer to the entrance, ignoring the guard, and does everything he can to catch her attention, even calling her by her full name.
She looks over her shoulder and, upon seeing him, her expression turns cold and defensive. She never trusted him, and Seungmin doesn’t blame her. Still, he’s desperate, and this might be his only chance to find you.
“I need to know where she is,” Seungmin says, his voice steady but pleading. “I need to see her before it’s too late.”
Your sister crosses her arms, scrutinizing him. "Why should I help you? After everything that’s happened, why should I trust you?"
His throat tightens, but he meets her gaze with unwavering sincerity. “Because I love her. I had no part in what my father did. I’d give up everything to be with her. I already have.”
There’s a long pause as your sister’s expression shifts, her defenses slowly lowering. Perhaps she sees the earnestness in his eyes, the depth of his regret, and his determination.
She turns to the receptionist, writes something down on a piece of paper, and hands it to him. “If you break her heart again, I swear to God...” she mutters, leaving the threat unfinished.
Seungmin’s heart leaps. He’s just met her, but she already feels more like family than his own ever has. “Thank you," he says, his voice full of gratitude.
“She’s leaving the country tomorrow, so you’d better hurry,” she adds, turning away before he can say anything more.
Every second becomes precious as his heart pounds with a new sense of urgency. This is it. He won’t lose you—not to his father, not to the mess his family has created. This time, nothing will stop him.
-
The country house is quiet, almost too quiet. The only sounds are the soft rustling of the trees outside and the occasional creak of the old wooden floorboards beneath your feet. The room is stifling, but it’s your thoughts that press down on you the most. You fold another shirt and tuck it into your suitcase, packing for tomorrow, planning to leave nothing behind.
It was a mistake to come back here, and you know it now. This city was once a refuge; now, it feels like a prison, a place to hide. You’ve become a liability to your family, and your father made that painfully clear when he sent you here. You were told to stay quiet, remain hidden, and leave without a trace in the morning.
There’s no future for you here anyway.
Tears prick the corners of your eyes as you zip up the suitcase. You can’t take any more of this—feeling like a pawn in a game that was never yours to play. Leaving is the only choice left. It’s for the best, even if it means abandoning everything you’ve ever known. It’s not an easy decision, but you force yourself to push through it.
Then, suddenly, there’s a knock on the door, breaking the stillness of the night.
Your heart leaps, and for a moment, you freeze. You remember your father’s warnings: Never open the door. No one is to know you’re here. Stay hidden. You take a step back, away from the door.
Another knock comes, this time more urgent.
You remain still, holding your breath, praying that whoever it is will go away. But then you hear a voice—his voice.
“Please... it’s me, Seungmin.”
Your heart races at the sound of his voice, familiar and full of emotion. You badly want to rush to the door, to throw it open and fall into his arms, but the alarm bells in your head ring louder. You can’t. You shouldn’t.
“I know you’re in there,” Seungmin says, his voice breaking between words. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere. Please... just let me in.”
You clench your fists, torn between what you know is right and the ache in your chest. You stay quiet, pressing your back against the door, fighting the overwhelming urge to respond.
"I had to find you," Seungmin continues, his voice softer now, almost desperate. “I couldn’t let you leave without seeing you. I can’t lose you—not after everything we’ve been through.”
Tears well in your eyes as you lean your forehead against the door, trying to keep your emotions in check. You *shouldn’t* let him in. This is a mistake—all of it—but hearing him on the other side, so close yet out of reach, is tearing you apart.
“I just want to be with you," Seungmin whispers. "I love you.”
The words break something inside you, and before you realize what you’re doing, your hand is on the doorknob. Torn between fear and love, you know you shouldn’t open the door, but your heart is aching for him. No matter how hard you try, you can’t ignore the pull you feel toward him.
“Please, don’t shut me out," he mutters, his voice thick with hopelessness.
Your walls crumble almost immediately and with shaking hands, you unlock the door and pull it open, revealing Seungmin standing there, his face full of worry and relief. His eyes soften the moment they meet yours. Without a word, he steps forward and takes you into his arms.
He holds you tightly, his warmth familiar and comforting. He feels like home. Finally, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding.
Seungmin buries his face in your hair, whispering, “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”
You pull back just enough to look up at him, your eyes searching his. In that moment, without thinking, you lean in and press your lips to his—a kiss full of longing and everything you’ve been holding back for so long.
In the quiet of that night, with the stars shining through the open window and the future uncertain, you know that, despite everything, being with him is the only thing that makes sense.
-
The soft glow of moonlight filters through the curtains, casting a delicate sheen across the room. Your naked bodies are entwined beneath the sheets, the warmth of the moment lingering between you.
Seungmin hovers above you, his chest rising and falling as he gently caresses your face, his fingertips tracing the outline of your cheek like you are something sacred. His gaze is intense but tender, as if memorizing every part of you, still unable to believe you are really here in his arms.
His touch is soft, but the weight of the emotions between you is palpable. You can feel it in the way his fingers brush over your skin. He hasn’t said much, but his eyes tell everything—relief, love, fear of what could have been if he had lost you for good.
“I almost lost you,” he murmurs, his thumb grazing your lips. You lean into his touch, savoring the feeling of being so close, so connected. “I don’t ever want to feel that again.”
You gaze up at him, your heart aching with affection. Here, in this moment, it is just you and him, and nothing else matters.
Seungmin lowers his head to place a soft kiss on your forehead, then your lips, as if sealing some unspoken promise between the two of you.
“Let’s go somewhere,” his lips brush against yours with every word. “Let's start over, somewhere far away from all of this.”
The invitation comes so suddenly that you don’t know how to react. You blink up at him, feeling a mix of emotions—hope, love, but also fear. You love him deeply, more than you thought was possible, but you don’t want him to lose everything for you the way you have for him.
“Seungmin…” you whisper, your voice barely audible as your hand comes up to cup his face. “Are you sure? I don’t want you to lose your family, not like I did.”
“I’m sure,” he says firmly, his voice filled with conviction. “This, us, it’s what I want. I want to leave all of this behind and just be with you.”
A tear rolls down your cheek as you stare into his eyes, seeing the truth in his words, the earnestness of his intentions. While it makes you indescribably happy, it also breaks your heart a little. He is giving up everything—his family, his place in their world—just to be with you. You love him more for it, but it's also a heavy burden to bear.
“You really mean that?” you ask, your voice trembling with emotion.
Seungmin nods, his forehead pressing gently against yours. “Yes. This is what I want.”
It feels like the world has finally shifted, like things are starting to fall into place. Even though the future is still uncertain, you believe in him, in the two of you together, and that's enough.
“I love you,” you whisper, pulling him down into a soft, lingering kiss. “As long as we’re together, everything’s going to be okay.”
He kisses you back, holding you tightly against him, and in that moment, everything becomes clear. This is not just a mere coincidence. This is fate. You and Seungmin, together, is fate.
-
The hum of the plane's engines is comforting, familiar, as you both settle into your seats, side by side.
The memory of that first flight together—the stolen glances, the whispered conversations—comes rushing back, but this time it feels different. This is a new beginning, a chance to start over.
Seungmin glances over at you, a playful glint filling his warm brown eyes. He shifts in his seat, turning toward you just like he had the first time.
"Hi, I’m Seungmin,” he softly says, offering his hand in mock formality, his smile full of warmth. “Traveling alone?”
You can’t help but smile back, slipping your hand into his. “Nice to meet you. And I’m traveling with someone very special, actually.”
You both chuckle, the familiarity of the moment easing the tension of everything that came before. It's like stepping into a memory but with the promise of something better ahead.
Seungmin’s eyes soften as he looks at you, and he leans in closer, his voice lowering.
“Business or pleasure?” you ask playfully, replaying the conversation that had sparked your connection all those months ago.
“Neither,” he answers, his voice gentle but certain. “I’m traveling for a happy ending.”
His words send a flutter through your chest, and you feel the warmth spread all the way to your fingertips. You look at him, your heart overflowing with emotion, knowing that this isn’t just a flight—it is a leap into the unknown, into something new and full of possibility.
You squeeze his hand, feeling the familiar warmth of his skin against yours. “A happy ending,” you repeat with a smile.
As the plane begins to taxi down the runway, he intertwines his fingers with yours, holding on tightly, unwilling to let go. You both stare out the window, watching the world fall away beneath you, your hearts beating in sync.
And as the plane lifts off, climbing higher into the sky, you know that whatever the future holds, as long as you are together, everything will be okay.
The past is behind you now, and in this moment, with Seungmin by your side, the world feels wide open, full of hope and promise. Into a happy ending, you go.
-
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˗ˏˋ you've been running solo from zombies for almost a year now, until a random dude decides to stubbornly stick to your side ˎˊ˗
⤷ a/n : thanks for 300 followers!! I'm gonna pretend I didn't spent the past few weeks writing this and will call it my "thank you" gift for all of you (since my last milestone event kinda flopped) anyway this might not have that many likes but I liked it <3 enjoy!! — oh I was inspired by your zombie fic @fluffroom :)
⤷ contains : hyunjin x fem! reader, zombie apocalypse / the walking dead au, blood, wounds, guns, NSFW -> m! masturbation, p in v sex, safe sex (yay use condoms!!) [ wc : 7.6k ]
⤷ now playing : forever young by alphaville
The man’s silhouette moved slowly across the field, swaying between the tall grass, feeling the flower heads brushing against his palms. The autumn wind probably graced gently against his face, and for a moment, from a distance, he looked so peaceful… he... it… a walker.
My finger edged closer to the trigger. Easy target. They always were. I exhaled once and loosened my grip on the gun, pulling my eye away from the tight tunnel of the sights. I couldn’t afford the luxury of killing those creatures for sport, wasting bullets on something that barely mattered. Ammo was harder to find than food these days and I've been lucky lately without many of them roaming around. But one thing was true, if humanity thought the Covid-19 pandemic was rough, little did we know what awaited us in the future.
I pushed myself up from the concrete roof of the gas station’s shop. The place sat alone in the middle of nowhere, with its old sign hanging crooked above empty pumps. My limbs ached with every movement after days of walking settled deep into my muscles.
As I climbed down the side ladder, I noticed another walker drifting along the road. They were starting to gather. Great. It was time to move. I slipped inside the small shop and started scanning the shelves, though the place had been picked through,
It has been a little bit over a year this whole situation started and dust already clung to everything like a second skin. Still, there were some scraps left for me to pick up, a few bottles of Gatorade, chocolate bars, cleaning alcohol. Not much, but enough to keep me going a little longer.
I was stuffing the supplies into my bag when something clanked in the next aisle. I froze for a moment as a door creaked shut somewhere inside the store, then another loud metallic noise, followed by a loud curse and a low pained moan.
Outside, the walker by the road turned its head toward the shop, it had certainly noticed the sound. Fantastic. I moved quietly toward the back exit, hoping to slip out unnoticed by both of them. Whoever was in here could deal with their own problems, until a male voice called out behind me.
“Hey!” I stopped dead and spun around hastily, raising a finger to my lips.
“Shut up. There’s one of them outside.” I hissed, my eyes narrowed at his figure crouched on the ground, clutching his foot. “Where did you come from? Who are you?”
The guy leaned against a shelf, breathing hard. “I think what you meant to say is ‘how are you?’” he muttered. “To which I’d answer ‘very shitty, thanks’. Now c’mon—help me out here.”
I followed his gaze downward, his ankle was caught in a homemade trap, crude but quite effective. Two metal jaws clamped around his boot, bolted to a short chain attached into the floor, not strong enough to kill anything big, but painful enough to hold someone in place.
Probably meant for animals. Maybe for people too. Perhaps even me.
“No.” I stepped back quickly, putting some distance between us.
“What?” His voice jumped. “Hey! Where are you going?”
“I’m not helping someone I just met.” I shook my head. “You could be a crazy survivalist, a murderer, or whatever.”
“I’m not a murderer,” he shrieked, desperation creeping into his voice.
“Sounds like something one would say.”
A sudden crack echoed from the front of the store, both of us looked toward the door. Wood splintered as the walker forced its way inside.
“Please! You need to help me! What kind of soulless human being are you?” His voice dropped into something raw.
The walker staggered into the shop, cloudy eyes scanning slowly as it followed the noise. I glanced toward the back door, a clean escape, I’d be gone in seconds. The creature groaned again, shuffling closer down the aisle. I muttered a curse under my breath and turned around.
“Fuck it. Pull up the hem.” The guy didn’t waste a second.
He yanked his pant leg up while I knelt beside the trap and forced the metal jaws apart. My hands slipped on the bars as the spring finally gave out, and the trap snapped open. I pulled his ankle free just as the walker turned into our aisle.
“Get up.” I pulled him up, he tried to stand for himself and nearly collapsed, limping quite badly as I grabbed his hand and pushed him forward.
We rushed through the back door into the open air, but it only took a few seconds until the walker stumbled outside, dragging its feet toward us across the cracked pavement.
“Inside,” I muttered, shoving the guy toward an abandoned Waffle House across the lot.
The windows were grimy and a bit shattered, its yellow sign also hung crooked above the door. We slipped inside and ducked behind the counter, crouching low, holding the few breaths we still had inside our lungs. For an almost endless moment, neither of us spoke, listening for any footsteps outside, glass cracking, a groan, anything at all.
Time went by in silence, the sky outside had grown darker, autumn had only just begun and the days were already shrinking, the light draining away earlier than it used to. Through the dusty windows of the Waffle House, the last gray sliver of evening faded behind the empty road.
Neither of us dared to speak, we sat in silence as if waiting for something to happen, or maybe too afraid of what might follow the moment one of us opened their mouth.
Outside, nothing moved, no dragging footsteps, no hollow groans drifting through the air, only the wind brushing against the broken glass. A whole hour passed like that, by then it was clear that we were completely alone.
I pushed myself up from the floor with a strained groan, my knees felt stiff and aching after sitting so long. Reaching into my bag, I pulled out a small first aid kit and tossed it into the guy’s direction. He caught it midair with surprising speed, his eyebrows lifting in mild shock.
“See if you can find something for your leg in there,” I mumbled, already turning away before taking a quick glance over my shoulder. “I’ll try to find some food. And don’t try anything on me. I’ve got some questions for you.”
My grip tightened slightly around the rifle hanging at my side, he held my gaze for a moment before silently nodding his head. Good. I moved toward the back of the kitchen area, stepping over overturned stools and greasy tiles, where everything smelled faintly of old oil and dust.
Behind me, I could hear him working, the rustle of gauze, the soft clink of metal tools inside the kit. I gazed back toward him, he had cleaned the wound as best as he could and was wrapping a bandage tightly around his ankle, improvising something decent out of what little was inside the kit.
Up close, now that things were calmer, I noticed him properly. Shaved head, worn-down clothes that accentuated his lean build, dark circles under his sharp and alert eyes, which still had some kind of softness clinging on, stubbornly refusing to die.
I found a small stash of frozen waffles in the back freezer, buried under frost and old packaging, staring at them for a moment before letting out a quiet scoff. So funny to think something so simple can spark even the tiniest glint of hope inside someone.
Behind me, the young man cleared his throat, the sound snapped my attention back to him instantly while I went back to set up the waffles on our small fire.
“Thanks,” he said carefully. “For all of this. I’m Hyun—”
“No.” The word cut through the room before he could finish. “I don’t fucking wanna know who you are,” I said flatly. His mouth shut.
“We’re not in this together. I don’t need to know your name, your story, or whatever else you’re about to tell me.” I flipped one of the waffles in the pan with the edge of my knife. “I’ll help you tonight cause you’re hurt. But I need to know where you came from and why the hell you were in that store.”
He studied me for a moment, then tilted his head slightly with a shy smile. “We could stay together if we were heading to the same place though.”
“Answer the questions.” I didn’t even look at him, he let out a quiet breath.
“I was in Missouri when all of this started, but my last stop was Atlanta, a few weeks ago, until I got caught in a horde.”
That made me pause just slightly. “Yeah, there isn’t much to see there anymore.” I mumbled.
His lips twitched faintly, like he almost smiled. “We were looking for a friend’s family.”
“You were in a group then?” I turned halfway toward him now.
“Kind of. Look, this conversation is starting to feel a bit unbalanced.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “I want to ask some questions too.”
“I’m not telling you my name.”
“Alright, might as well call you cutie then.” He leaned back against the counter, watching me with a teasing smile. I glared at him, but he didn’t look particularly worried. “Where are you heading, cutie?”
I took a deep inhale, hesitating for a moment before finally answering. “New York.”
“New—” He blinked and straightened slightly. “Are you insane? That place must be infested with dead people.”
I shrugged faintly, pulling the waffles off the pan. “Well, then I hope you’ve got somewhere else to be, cause I wasn’t planning on taking you with me anyway.”
“Maine.” He blurted out on a whim. “I’m going to Maine... I think my group is heading there. If we keep up a pace, maybe I could still find them in New York.”
“Sure, and you remembered that five seconds ago?”
“Please, let me come with you. I promise I won’t slow you down.” His voice got quieter, a little bit raw. “I don’t want to be alone.”
The room fell quiet again, only the small fire crackled between us, somewhere far outside the wind dragged across the empty highway. He didn't try to convince me about his skills, or how essential he was, or how I would regret this. Just laying bare the loneliness disease we had all been dealing with, way before the whole apocalypse started.
—
Morning crept slowly over the empty highway, pale and thin like watered-down milk spreading across the sky. The world had that damp chill that came with early autumn mornings, a faint mist hovered over the fields on both sides of the road, blurring the distant tree lines into gray.
The asphalt stretched ahead of us in a long cracked path, endless and silent, except for the steady rhythm of boots against pavement. Three days, that was how long it had been since the Waffle House. Three days since I decided, against every survival instinct I had, to let that guy walk with me.
Maybe it was the ankle, or the way he hadn’t complained much while limping along the first day, or because two sets of eyes were better than one, perhaps I just grew tired of hearing my own thoughts echo in empty buildings every night. Still that didn't mean he wasn’t annoying. Because for hell’s sake, he absolutely was.
Hyun walked a few steps behind me now, his limp noticeably better than it had been two days ago. He’d found himself a walking stick out of a broken broom handle we picked in a shed yesterday, though he mostly spun it around rather than used it.
“You know,” he started, voice carrying easily through the quiet air, “most people would be happy to have a teammate in the current situation.”
“Most people are dead.”
“Fair point.” A few seconds passed. “You still haven’t told me your name.”
I sighed through my nose, not slowing down. “Not happening.”
“You know I kind of gave you a hint of what mine could be.”
“I didn’t ask for it.”
“Hyun,” he repeated anyway, cheerful as ever. “Just in case you forgot.”
“I didn’t.”
He kicked a loose pebble across the road. “You’ve got trust issues, cutie.”
I stopped walking and turned around, the rifle rested comfortably in my hands, its barrel pointing loosely toward his legs.
“Keep calling me that and you’re walking the rest of the way with one less kneecap.”
He raised both hands in surrender with a giggle, grinning proudly for getting a reaction out of me. “Alright, alright. Message received, captain.”
I turned and kept walking, behind me I could practically feel the smile still sitting on his face. God, he was annoying. At least we hadn’t seen many walkers around, just a few scattered ones in the distance, but now the fields stretched wide and empty around us, only the yellow grass swaying softly in the breeze and a rusted billboard leaning crooked near the roadside ahead.
We walked in silence for a while after that, boots crunching lightly over gravel whenever the pavement broke apart. The sun was higher, after a while we stepped off the highway and cut through an open field to avoid a small group of walkers wandering near a crashed truck. Tall grass brushed against our legs while the wind carried away their morbid groaning.
Hyun walked a little closer now, careful with his steps. “You know,” he said after a moment, “you’re surprisingly patient.”
I snorted. “Tell me about it.”
“Exactly. Most people would’ve shot me already.”
“I still might. Our journey isn’t over yet.” He laughed quietly.
The tree line at the edge of the field got closer and we stopped there for a short break, a fallen log sat hidden in the leaves, perfect enough to sit on. I dropped my bag beside it and took a long drink from my water bottle. Hyun sat across from me, stretching his injured leg carefully, the bandage was dirty but holding, still he noticed me glancing at it.
“It’s hanging on," he said.
“Barely.”
“Optimism suits you, cutie.” I ignored that.
The wind rustled through the branches above us, scattering a few leaves onto the ground between us. For a while neither of us spoke, until he shifted on his seat, a bit too hesitant for someone like him.
“Why have you been walking alone all this time?”
I stared out through the trees, watching the empty road beyond the field, my fingers traced the edge of the bottle slowly as I let out a tired exhale.
“A couple of months after all this started, my boyfriend and I found a group of people on our way upstate… unfortunately, at the time we didn’t know people could be very shitty in such situations and basically use people as bait for walkers.” A silent leaf drifted down between us. “I think being alone isn’t always the worst choice in a world like this.”
“Sorry.” Hyun’s voice softened.
I shrugged. “Did your group leave you behind too?”
He shook his head slowly. “I kinda got lost actually.” I turned my head at him again.
“We were running from a horde,” he continued after a moment. “Then one of them got stuck behind. I went back to help him, but when I was coming back I had to take a different path to get rid of the walkers.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “When I finally realized where I was… the only path I had in front of me was forward.” His voice dropped slightly. “Didn’t see them again after that.”
The forest around us creaked quietly with the wind. “Do you think they are looking for you?” I asked.
Hyun stared down at the dirt for a moment. “I don’t know anymore. A part of me wants to believe they aren’t, that they moved on and are following the plan.” A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, though it didn’t seem quite genuine. “But another part kind of wants them to be out there looking for me, or just waiting for me to come back.”
“How many are there in the group?”
“Eight, counting with me.”
“Not much.”
He smirked faintly. “Just enough to cause a bit of trouble.”
For a moment we just looked at each other, the wind shifted through the trees again. Somewhere far off in the distance, a lone walker groaned faintly, and Hyun leaned back slightly on his hands.
“You know,” he said, studying me carefully, “for someone who doesn’t want to tell me their name, you’re getting pretty chatty.”
I stood up with a scoff, slinging my bag back over my shoulder and offering him a hand to help him up. He looked at it, a flicker of surprise crossing his eyes before a small smirk curled on his lips, his touch was warm and he got up with a small grunt.
We stepped back out of the trees together and onto the road again, a long way to the north awaited us. The sky above stretched wide and pale blue, the kind of empty sky that made the world feel bigger than it should be, and for the first time in a long while, walking didn’t feel quite so lonely anymore.
—
A few days later, rain started falling sometime around morning and kept going until night settled. A thin mist still clung into the air while both our clothes clung miserably to our skin, boots squelched with every step, and cold rainwater ran down the back of my neck in the worst imaginable way.
A school appeared through the gray haze of rain like a forgotten memory of a world that didn’t exist anymore, a faded sign above the entrance still read Bridgeway Elementary. Hyun wiped rain from his eyes and looked up at it, tracing his gaze all over its brick walls and shattered windows.
“Well… this feels quite promising,” he said, pushing more water out of his face. “It's like a scene from a horror movie.”
“Everything is a horror movie now,” I muttered and walked towards its tilted gates.
We pushed through the front doors carefully, the hallway smelled like old paper and mold, lockers lined the walls, some ripped from their hinges, as posters still clung to the boards full of faded motivational slogans. Children’s drawings covered the wall of one of the classrooms, bright suns and happy kittens, all of it frozen in time.
Hyun took a glance around. “No walkers,” he said quietly.
It felt safe enough to spend the night. Either way he went for a quick search around the whole school to check for any threats while I found a spot in the cafeteria to set up a quick camp and a small fire to dry our soaked clothes.
Luckily we had some dry spare clothes that we found in some abandoned shop on the road and managed to keep away from all the water. Hyun hadn’t come back from his search, so I set them on the side and peeled the soaked shirt away from my wet skin, cold air brushing across my nipples.
I wrung the water from the fabric before tossing it over one of the tables, taking off one drenched piece after the other, staying only in my underwear. Before changing into the dry pieces, I decided to check on some bruises on my skin from the past few days, when a sudden squeaky sound echoed behind me.
A chill ran all over my spine, making me quickly press the shirt against my chest and turn around just in time to see the blur of a shadow hiding behind the corner.
“Fuck! I’m sorry!” Hyun’s panicked voice cut through the awkward silence. “I thought you had changed already.”
A wave of heat spread through my whole face as I quickly put on the clothes. “It’s fine. You can come out now.” I mumbled, though my voice came out weaker than intended.
He approached me by the fire a bit hesitant. “That was…” He stopped himself. “You know, I think nudity is an overrated concept, humans are animals—”
“Go change in some fucking classroom, Hyun, and we’ll pretend it never happened.” I cut him over.
He nodded rapidly and turned to leave, not really looking into my eyes. Though I could notice just the smallest flicker in it after hearing his name come out of my mouth for the first time, surprising even me by how natural it felt on my lips.
Later that night, the rain eased into a soft drizzle, while the fire crackled quietly while our damp clothes hung from improvised lines. Sleep didn’t come easily anymore, though sometimes we could try to have a full night of it without having to take shifts all night long. Tonight, however, I tossed and turned for hours, feeling the sleep embrace me and drift away every now and then.
I finally let out a tired sigh and turned again to face Hyun’s side, only this time it was empty. He wasn’t usually one to stay still all night long, but he also wasn’t one to disappear in the middle of it either. Adrenaline spiked through my veins. There was no sound near the cafeteria, it all felt the same as when we came in. He could have heard something… or someone could have taken him.
The sky was still pitch black outside. I wasn’t sure how long he had been away, or for how many hours I managed to stay asleep. A few minutes passed in blood freezing silence, until worry finally crept in.
The hallway stretched quiet and dark beyond the firelight. There was no apparent movement in the classrooms, near the stairs, not even on the playground outside. I reached the last room on the hallway and was about to turn back when I heard a strained groan cutting through the silence.
My entire body tensed. A walker? It didn’t sound like one. I decided to take a quick peek inside to check if there was someone inside.
He was sitting on one of the front row’s chairs as his body faced the door sideways, his legs were stretched in front of him. A few seconds later he shifted on his seat a bit breathless, an almost pained moan scratching through his throat again. One of his hands moved in a frantic motion on his lap, quickly adjusting his pants a bit downwards and bucking his hips up on the seat.
My heart pounded faster in my chest. None of that felt like it was really happening. Hyun adjusted the pace of his hand again, opening more of his zipper, revealing a bit more of the stiff member half covered by his large palm. I couldn’t see much of it besides its plump tip almost bursting through each stroke he made with his skilled hand.
He covered his mouth with his other hand, hiding another moan as a fluid overflowed from his shaft in one long spurt, followed by another, and another, until he slumped his back on the chair at last, completely spent.
His hand still held on to his softening length, drawing slow circles on its middle with his thumb, feeling the aftershocks shiver their way through his more relaxed body now. The rise and fall of his heaving chest was enough to tell me how long he was in need to do that. In the fraction of a second his posture stiffened like he’d realized something embarrassing.
Heat crept up the back of my neck and I quickly stepped back from the door just as he was about to turn his head.
I heard ruffling inside the classroom and tip-toed as fast as I could back to my improvised sleeping bag, shutting my eyelids too tight. A few minutes later I heard the sound of Hyun’s feet scraping the dusty floor and settling down. I heard a shuffle of clothes behind me, where he must have turned away. My thighs pressed together agonizingly, dampness spreading all over my core, as my clit flickered in sync with my heartbeat underneath my underwear. God, it was going to be a long night.
—
A couple weeks later, we finally came across an open mall just a few miles outside New York. The parking lot stretched out like a gray desert, cracked and overtaken by weeds, shopping carts lay scattered everywhere, flipped on their sides and completely rusted.
Some smaller buildings stood around the mall, fast food places, a gas station, a small condo and a pharmacy, but most of the area was empty. Though the closer we got to the city, the more walkers we started seeing, not hordes yet but enough to make the air feel a bit too tight and our eyes a bit more alert.
We slipped inside the pharmacy through a half-broken glass door, stepping over the shattered pieces carefully. Shelves were mostly empty, the floor littered with old packaging and things long since picked through, still places like this sometimes had something left behind.
“Check the back cabinets,” I said quietly, scanning the aisles. “Painkillers, antiseptics, anything like that.”
“Roger that,” Hyun answered from somewhere to my right.
I moved slowly along the shelves, pushing aside boxes with the barrel of my rifle, scanning labels, gauze, expired cold medicine, vitamins nobody probably needed anymore.
“Oh, look what I found!” His voice suddenly rang out excitedly from the next aisle. I flinched slightly at the volume.
“Wh—” I stepped around the corner and immediately stopped. “For fuck’s sake.”
Hyun stood there holding an extra-large condom he’d pulled from a dusty box and had blown up like a balloon, kicking the transparent latex in his knees.
“Put that thing away,” I groaned. “We don't need it.”
“Says who? I might need it,” he said defensively, clutching it against his chest. “I mean it’s not my size, but we could use it for a lot of things—water recipient, a glove, suffocating our enemies. Use your imagination, there's like tons of it here.”
I stared at him. “Whatever. Focus on finding some medicine. Your leg is almost healed but it’s good to have extras just in case.”
“Yes, captain!” he answered and saluted me with the condom balloon, then proceeded to keep playing with it. God. I turned back toward the shelves, shaking my head annoyed, though I could feel the faintest smile tugging at the corner of my mouth.
“Why do I feel like we would hate each other in real life?” I said after a moment.
“What do you mean? This is real life.”
“You know what I mean, outside of this whole situation. Apart from our only thing in common being running from dead people.”
He hummed thoughtfully. “I don’t know. I kinda think I'd like meeting you in a ‘normal’ setting.”
I glanced back at him as he casually leaned against a shelf, still wobbling the stupid balloon on his hand.
“Maybe we wouldn’t want to talk with each other at first,” he continued. “But if we gave each other a chance we could've some great time together… we still can actually.”
I felt a slight flush warming up my face and let out a small breath through my nose. “Yeah,” I admitted. “I guess I could say you’re kinda nice.”
Hyun stepped closer this time, a slow smirk spreading across his lips. “Well, look at that, am I finally breaking the ice wall?”
I rolled my eyes and turned back to the shelf. “Don’t get cocky.”
He opened his mouth to respond when the condom suddenly popped on his hands. The sound echoed in the quiet store. Both of us froze. For a second nothing happened. Then somewhere outside a low groan answered. My head snapped toward the front windows when another groan followed.
Hyun slowly turned his head toward me, “…that might’ve been a mistake,” he said quietly.
A shadow moved past the front glass while others followed. Walkers. Too fucking many of them. My stomach twisted in a knot. “Shit, shit, shit.”
The front door creaked as one of them pushed against it and another slammed into the glass beside it. More groans began echoing through the parking lot, calling in even more of them.
“Back door,” I said quickly. We ran towards it, boots crunching over broken plastic and scattered boxes.
Behind us the glass shattered as the first walker stumbled inside and their dreadful groaning filled the store. I shoved open the hallway door leading to the stockroom and we sprinted through it. Behind us the sound grew louder, more footsteps dragging across the tiles.
The back exit door burst open as I slammed into it, we bolted out into the alley behind the building, but the noise had already spread. Walkers were turning the corner from the street, staggered between the nearby buildings.
“There!” I shouted, pointing to the small condo we saw earlier, circled by some tilted but apparently sturdy fence. It would have to do for now.
We ran towards it, the city skyline looming far ahead of us, silent towers rising above the horizon like broken skeletons. Our boots pounded against cracked pavement as we cut between buildings. A cluster of walkers stumbled out from a side street, Hyun shoved one aside with his shoulder.
“Keep going!” he yelled.
I sprinted ahead, we were almost there, until I realized the footsteps behind me were sounding further. I glanced back at his figure lagging behind, not by much, but his leg, even mostly healed, still slowed him down when we had to run like this.
A walker lunged toward him from the side. He shoved it back hard, but it cost him another step. My chest tightened. “Hyun!”
“Fucking go!” he shouted. “Don’t look back!”
Another walker grabbed him, he swung his crowbar and cracked its skull with a sickening crunch. I jumped over the fence and fell with a hard thud on the ground. Two walkers reached for him as he ducked between them and sprinted straight for the building.
He jumped over the fence with a crooked move, and let out a sharp hiss as his shirt got ripped on the side. We ran into the first open apartment we could find, slamming the door shut together behind us.
Both of us collapsed against it, holding it closed as the sounds of walkers echoed outside but not near. The fence would keep them far away from us at least for a few hours.
Hyun bent over, gasping for air. “Okay,” he panted, “that was… not very nice.”
My heart was still hammering and for a moment I just stared at him, making sure he was actually there, alive, with me. I shoved his shoulder. “Don’t ever do that again, asshole.”
“Do what? The balloon? C’mon, it was funny before it exploded out of nowhere.”
“No. Falling behind like that.” His breathing slowed a little, then a small grin crept onto his face.
“Were you worried about me?”
I crossed my arms immediately. “I hate you.”
He laughed quietly, leaning back against the door. Outside the walkers continued groaning, but inside the abandoned apartment, for the moment, it was just the two of us, and the city waiting ahead.
Night painted the sky a deep, heavy blue. The city lights that once drowned the stars were long gone, leaving only darkness and a thin trace of constellations overhead. From the terrace you could still hear some walkers wandering below, distant groans drifting between the empty buildings, but most of them had already scattered, pulled away by other sounds.
Hyun had gone upstairs earlier to check the rest of the building for unpleasant surprises or any unlucky survivors hiding out in the shadows. I stayed behind, trying to make the place feel less like a ruin and more like somewhere two people could sleep without waking up with a knife to their throat.
A few minutes later his voice echoed down the stairwell. “Hey, cutie! Come check this out! You are not going to believe it.”
I dragged myself up the stairs, every muscle in my legs pulling tight beneath my skin after the long day we’d had, running from the dead still lingered in my bones.
I reached the top of the staircase and stepped into a small, unlit hallway. Hyun stood by the terrace door, holding it open, there was some blood in his hands. At first I didn’t understand what he was pointing at, when I finally saw it. The buckets, bowls, plastic containers of all sizes, lined up across the terrace floor, each one filled with rainwater.
Someone had clearly been collecting water here for a long time. Maybe they’d lived here, maybe they died, maybe they ran when the walkers flooded the streets. Either way, the water remained.
Hyun turned toward me with the widest grin I’d seen on his face in days. “Hell yeah, cutie. We are taking a bath today,” he cheered. “This is starting to feel like a five-star hotel!”
I let out a quiet laugh and for the first time in what felt like forever, the idea didn’t feel ridiculous.
We boiled what water we could over our small fire and carried the buckets inside. The bathroom tiles were cracked and the mirror fogged with age, but the tub still held water. Taking a bath in the apocalypse felt like a long distant dream, but when the warm water touched my skin, the tension that had lived in my shoulders for months finally loosened just a little.
Later we sat in the living room again, cleaner and less miserable. Hyun sat cross-legged in front of me, shirtless as I finished cleaning the cut he’d got when jumping over the rusted fence earlier. The wound stretched along his side, red but shallow, nothing life threatening. Still, infection kills faster than walkers sometimes.
“I think I’m feeling my blood being poisoned by the rust,” he said dramatically while I dabbed antiseptic against the cut. “You think I might die because of it?”
“I've seen worse.”
“I don’t remember if I ever took a tetanus boost.”
I tightened the bandage slightly. “I can take you back to the walkers so they can take care of it for you.”
“No, thanks.” He chuckled softly, leaning back on his hands, watching me for a moment. “Hey,” his voice softened a bit. “Are you sure you’re good? No scratches, wounds… bites or whatever?”
I frowned slightly, he looked away a bit embarrassed. “I didn't mean to listen, but I think I heard you crying in the bathroom,” he added gently. “And now you’re all quiet.”
My eyes glanced down at his bandage for a second and how my hands still lingered there. “I’m fine.” The words came out softer than I meant them to. “I just didn’t expect to get so attached to a stranger in this hellhole.”
“Ouch,” he laughed. “A stranger? Really? After all we’ve been through?”
“Shut up.” I pressed the bandage a little harder into the wound.
“Ouch!” Silence slowly settled between us again, but it felt closer this time, more intimate than I remembered it being. Hyun looked like he wanted to say something, his fingers tapped nervously against the floor.
“Is it too weird if I… ask to kiss you right now?” he whispered. “Just to remember how it feels.”
I froze for a moment, his expression was serious, but there was something shy hiding underneath it. The world was ending, cities were full of walking corpses, and somehow he still looked nervous asking that.
My body leaned forward slowly, his eyes widened slightly as the distance between us disappeared. The kiss started soft, careful, like both of us were remembering something we hadn’t felt in a long time, the simple proof that someone else was still alive.
Hyun’s hand hesitated in the air before gently settling on my waist as mine slid up from his hard chest to the back of his neck. We shifted closer and with a soft tug he pulled me into his lap, where I adjusted both my legs on his sides and could feel his member hardening underneath his jeans against my core.
We both separated a bit breathless, a thin string of saliva breaking between us. He looked up at me with pleading eyes, chest heaving under my palms. I could feel the tension in his shoulders immediately as he hesitated for a second and pulled back slightly, cheeks flushing slightly in the dim firelight.
“Uh—” He reached behind him awkwardly and grabbed something from the pile of supplies near the wall, holding up with shaky hands a small square package. The condom pack from the pharmacy. He looked both embarrassed and a bit proud at the same time.
“I mean,” he said quickly. “I just thought, you know, better be prepared than not.” A nervous laugh escaped his lips.
I scoffed softly, lowering my forehead on his toned shoulder, biting my lower lip to hide my growing smirk. “You're unbelievable.”
“Can you blame me? How lucky am I to find such a cutie in the middle of the apocalypse?”
“How unlucky am I to get stuck with such an annoying idiot in the middle of Armagedom?”
“Let me take you to heaven tonight then,” he whispered close to my ear. His large hands slipped under my tank top, caressing the skin on my back.
“Flirt,” I muttered against his skin, so warm under my lips, so alive. I planted a kiss on his neck, earning a small whimper out of his throat and a soft moan when I accidentally brushed against his bandage.
Our hands worked in sync while taking each other's remaining clothes. Under the flickering firelight I could see the soft definition of his muscled body, the lines that carved his chest all the way down to the stretched fabric of his underwear. Skilled fingers hooked around my panties and pulled it lower, taking in the scent of my desire after slowly tracing a line over my sticky core.
I pressed another wet kiss on his lips and helped him out of his underwear, finally releasing his rigid member, hanging heavy between us. He slid the condom around its girth, placing a steady palm over my hips and guiding his tip to my soaked entrance.
With a shaky breath I sinked slowly into it, feeling every inch of him filling me up until I reached his base. After a few hesitating movements, we both found a steady, slow rhythm, one that two people could only match after weeks walking beside each other. But his soft groans grew louder, my hands gripped his strong back, harmony didn’t matter anymore when there was only raw need left.
He wrapped his arms tighter around me, pressing our chest flush against each other. “It’s Hyunjin.” A teasing smile tugged on the corners of his mouth. “My name. In case you want to say it”
“Hyunjin…” I moaned, at last tasting his name on my tongue as we leaned for another sloppy kiss, lips trembling in his absence when he pulled away. “I’m…”
“You don’t have to.” Hyunjin pressed a finger over my lower lip, tracing a line down my chin and lifting it for me to meet his eyes. “I like calling you cutie.”
He angled his hips closer to mine again and I could feel my insides getting warmer, my walls pressing tighter around him, his throbbing length pulsing deeper with each ragged breath. A moan slipped from my throat, followed by his, and now all I could feel was his shivers under my fingertips, rolling from my skin to his, from his to mine.
With gentle yet trembling palms, Hyunjin lowered me in my sleep without pulling away, slowly softening up inside me, but still not letting go of the grip on my flesh. Not when we were this close, this young, this alive.
—
The walk over the Narrows Bridge had been quieter than either of us expected. Walkers wandered through the outskirts of the city in slow drifting pockets, like ghosts pacing through the ruins of a world they barely remember. Burned-out cars clogged the streets leading deeper into the city. Some still had squirming corpses under their wheels, others were just abandoned, rust spreading over the metal like a slow infection.
But we made it through, step by step, and eventually the high buildings rose around us like a graveyard of steel. Tall towers stood silent against the pale sky, shadows stretching across the pavement filled with weeds and debris. Hyunjin stopped in the middle of the street and slowly turned in a circle.
“Okay,” he muttered. “I take back what I said before. Apart from the occasional walkers we gotta terminate… this place is actually insane.”
A small grin tugged on my lips as I adjusted the strap of my rifle on my shoulder. “Yeah, it still is.”
I kept walking while Hyunjin followed after a second. “So,” he continued. “Where exactly are we going? You’ve been talking about New York since day one. Are you going to tell me where the final destination is?”
“Coney Island.”
His eyebrows lifted. “The amusement park?”
I nodded and kept walking forward. He studied my face for a second. “Alright, let’s go then.”
My feet stopped in a halt. “Wait, you coming with me?”
He glared at me in disbelief. “Why wouldn’t I? Whatever’s there clearly matters to you.” He adjusted his crowbar against his shoulder with a smirk. “And before you say I don't have to. I want to. Just in case you need some extra help.”
The sound of the waves grew louder as we finally approached the pier. Coney Island looked like a dream someone had left out in the rain, the boardwalk stretched along the shoreline, rusted amusement rides towered over the empty park as wind carried the sound of seagulls above us.
The place felt strangely peaceful while we walked slowly through the abandoned park until I eventually stopped near the old railing overlooking the beach. The sand stretched wide and empty below us, waves rolling endlessly toward the shore.
Hyunjin leaned against it beside me, I stepped away and walked toward a small cluster of rocks near the edge of the boardwalk. He watched silently as I crouched down and brushed aside some sand and debris. My fingers found what I’d been hoping to find after all this time. A small metal box, half-buried, still exactly where I remembered leaving it.
He stepped closer. “What’s that?”
I opened it slowly, inside were some trinkets and two thin papers—amusement ride tickets. For a moment all I could see was a memory, bright lights, music playing from the rides, my boyfriend laughing beside me while we argued about which ride to go on first.
Hyunjin didn’t have to ask anything to understand what it meant. We walked back to the railing and climbed up onto it, sitting side by side in silence while the waves rolled below us. The wind pushed gently against our faces, sky stretching wide and open above the water.
“I had my first kiss here,” I said quietly.
“Is that an invitation?”
“Fuck off.” I pushed him lightly, and we both laughed.
“Where to now?” He asked after a while.
“I have no idea.” Those words felt strange to say out loud, for months I’d been walking toward this place, this moment, and now it was over. “I thought some closure would be good, but now that I got it… I don't know what to do.”
Hyun leaned back slightly, holding tighter onto the railing. “Given how Chan likes to follow the plan,” he said thoughtfully, “he might be around this area though.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You make it sound like he’s predictable.”
“He kind of is.”
“Is that good or bad?”
“Depends on the day.” He chuckled.
We sat there for a few quiet minutes, when suddenly Hyunjin stiffened. His eyes sharpened and at first I thought he’d seen a walker, but his gaze wasn’t scanning the streets, it was focused somewhere behind us. Confusion flickered across his features and settled in disbelief.
“Hyunjin?” A faint voice carried across the empty boardwalk. Male, a bit rough from shouting, too familiar to his ears. “HYUNJIN!”
His eyes widened and his entire posture changed instantly. A figure emerged fully from between two abandoned food stands further ahead. Eight of them actually.
With a swift motion, Hyunjin jumped down from the railing so fast his boots nearly slipped on the wood. “No fucking way,” he muttered under his breath.
The guy in front of the group skidded to a stop just a few feet away, staring at Hyunjin like he’d just seen a corpse. He was tall, broad-shouldered, hair tied back messily. “Dude,” he said breathlessly. “What the hell?”
“Chan?” Hyunjin’s voice came out shaky and raw when he was suddenly grabbed by the shoulders and pulled into a rough hug.
“You idiot!” Chan shouted. “We thought you were dead!”
The others crowded around both immediately, laughing, crying, talking all at once. Relief exploded through the group while I quietly watched from afar as Hyunjin laughed for the first time in a way I had never heard before. Lighter, younger, like he’d stepped back into a life that existed before we met.
After a moment he looked over his shoulder toward me, our eyes met and for the first time since we started walking together, I realized something. I didn’t want to be alone anymore. I didn’t want to just survive until the world finally decided to swallow me. I wanted to stay with him until the end of time. Until his voice was the last thing I heard. He called me to come over.
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.
💦Who: Min Yoongi (BTS) x female reader
💦What: Idol/producer Yoongi. Friends to FWB. Smut (18+).
💦Word count: 14.3k
💦Warnings: They are both not straight. Profanity. Kissing. Dirty talk. Switch Yoongi. Switch reader. Multiple sex scenes. Anal fingering (male receiving). Crying with pleasure. Coming untouched. Sex toys. Lingerie. Oral (male & female receiving). Marks. Pegging/ anal sex (male receiving). Multiple orgasms. Oral fixation. Biting. Fingering. Mentions of being infertile through choice. Unprotected sex (it’s discussed beforehand). PIV sex. Cockwarming. Consensual somnophilia. Choking (female receiving). Squirting. Minor blood. Mentions of knife play (it is not explored in this story).
💦Summary:
You ask to finger one of your closest friends, he says yes, and things get real fun after that.
Minors do NOT interact. I WILL block any account that interacts without an age indicator in their bio.
Masterlist
A/N- This was originally on my old account @/whipped-for-kpop-fics, but I’ve decided to private a lot of stuff on that account and just move it over to here after some editing, where I can actually track it all properly.
The dark-haired rapper looks over exasperatedly at the third call of his name. “What?” he huffs when you don't say anything from where you're sitting cross-legged on the couch, and instead choose to hold his gaze with wide, round eyes, which he would call innocent if he didn't know you better than that by now.
“You've been with guys, right?” you question slowly.
“Yeah?”
“And you've bottomed?”
“You already know this. Get to the point.”
“I'm working on it.” You pout, absently tracing your fingers over the strings of the guitar laid across your lap. “So, you've had fingers in your ass?”
“Jesus, what the fuck?” he sputters in genuine shock at your out-of-the-blue question.
“You said get to the point!”
“I didn't think it would be about my ass!” he reasons.
“It's not, really, just...asses in general. The male ass. With fingers. Guys getting fingered.”
“Were you watching porn while hanging out with me?” he deadpans unimpressed.
“No.” He gives you a disbelieving look. “Well not intentionally. I was on Twitter minding my own business and suddenly, bam! There was a GIF of a guy getting fingered.”
“So, you decided to watch it?”
“Yes.”
“Despite the fact that you claim to not watch porn?”
“I don't. Never been interested.” You shrug, and as much as Yoongi wants to argue and point out that people who aren't interested in porn don't watch porn GIFs, he can't, because he can see that you are being entirely honest.
“Right, okay.” He lets out a breath, it sounds suspiciously like an exasperated sigh. “So, you watched this GIF and decided to bring up my sex life?”
“Well, I've always been curious about fingering a guy, like, what it feels like. And the prostate sounds interesting, like can you actually feel it? It's wild, man.”
“You want to finger a guy?” he gawps, surprised by the revelation. You just nod. “Seriously?”
“Yeah. Originally, I just wanted to peg a guy; I wanna know if I'd be any good with a dick and something about fucking a guy is really hot.”
“I don't even know what to say,” he murmurs truthfully. You shrug and run your hands over the guitar again, which draws his attention. “Well...your nails are short at least,” he comments quietly.
“Easier for playing guitar, and with myself.”
“Holy fuck, you can't just...” He exhales and rubs his hands over his face.
“Sorry. I'm frustrated and my filter always vanishes when I'm like this.”
“Frustrated about wanting to finger a guy?” he questions, dropping his hands onto his thighs carelessly to look at you again.
“Well, yeah, I guess. But I meant sexually frustrated, like horny.”
“Fuck me,” Yoongi murmurs softly, but due to the lack of activity going on in the room you hear it loud and clear.
“I don't have a strap-on,” you reply with a frown that looks oddly genuine.
“A strap-on...wait, I wasn't like, asking,” he rushes out, cheeks flushed as he understands what you mean.
“Oh.” Your frown turns further downwards. “I'd probably be bad anyway.”
“I've seen you dance, you can move your hips,” he admits gruffly.
“Oh...in that case, your loss. I'd make you cum really good.”
“Shut up,” Yoongi grunts and shuffles in his seat while diverting his gaze elsewhere.
“Sorry.” You remove the guitar from your lap to prop it back on its stand beside the couch without even getting up. Then, you stretch out and slouch slightly so that you can rest your head on the back of the couch with your bare feet planted firmly on the floor, legs spread in a way that your mother always scolded you for as it is 'unlady like'. “It's for the best anyway, I don't want to get sexually involved with someone who would just be thinking of someone else the whole time, you know?”
“What? Why are you assuming I'd be doing that?” He squares his eyes almost accusingly at you, while crossing his arms over his chest.
“Because you're not attracted to me like that,” your response is simple, easy, as if it is common knowledge; a fact of the world you had learned a long time ago.
“Who says?” You raise a challenging eyebrow. “I'm not blind, you're hot as fuck.”
“Doesn't mean you're down to clown though.”
“Not if you keep talking like that,” he huffs, sitting back further in his chair.
You straighten a little with hope beginning to sparkle in your eyes. “That sounds like you'd at least consider it if I used other phrasing.”
Yoongi says nothing and keeps his lips pressed together. The smirk that lifts your lips tells him that he's about to meet a version of you that he has only seen in the dreams he will never admit to waking up hard from, sometimes even shaking and coming down from an orgasm.
You sit up until you're fully upright, though your legs remain spread and Yoongi hates how it does something for him, how much it does for him. He has never before experienced a cocky female who isn't afraid to hold herself in a stereotypical male way, and honestly, it's the best of both worlds for him.
“Yoongi, Yoonie, babyboy,” you coo, and he scoffs at the final term if only to hide and deny the blush winding up his neck. “Will you let me fuck you? Can I put my fingers in that pretty, perky ass of yours until you cum? Fuck, I bet you'd look so good being edged, so overwhelmed that you can't help but cry and babble absolute fucking nonsense while begging to cum,” you murmur out, dark eyes growing heavier by the second.
“Fuck,” Yoongi whispers, dick twitching in his boxers.
You don't respond and simply prop your right elbow on the backrest to lean your head against your fist. You just watch him, waiting, so patient for a response. Almost as if you're playing with him, taunting, teasing, offering him the best seat in the house if only he is brave enough to admit to wanting it, and taking the first step.
Part of him is certain that you aren't doing that at all, that you are genuinely just waiting for him to think it over. That you're not willing to rush him or put any pressure on him to answer in a particular way. But a brand-new part of him doesn't have a fucking clue what you're capable of in the bedroom, and he’s finding it hard to deny that he wants to find out.
After a tense handful of moments where you simply hold each other's gaze while Yoongi's mind runs wild hidden safely behind his eyes, he turns back to his desk. Even though you're disappointed, you had honestly expected as much, so you don't stop to sulk or pout, and instead reach back towards the guitar.
You barely have your hand around the neck when you hear a drawer close a little too forcefully, especially as it's by Yoongi's usually so gentle hands, so you look back up and find that his computer programs are closed and only a music app is open. You release your grasp on the instrument and settle back to watch curiously.
Yoongi finds a playlist that you two often listen to; something full of smooth beats and low voices.
As the first song starts, he gets up and turns. He has something in his hands but it's hidden, at least until he’s crossed the small distance between you to toss it onto the couch seat on your right. You can't help but look down and find a little bottle of lube on the cushion.
“If you're serious about wanting to try, I'm down to clown,” he speaks, drawing your attention back. He's nervous and embarrassed, it's obvious to you, even if he's trying his best to hide it.
“Most definitely.” You nod and straighten up even further before patting your lap firmly. “C'mere.”
“You want me on you?”
“You have no idea,” you almost snort with your amusement, but hold it back. You pat your thigh again with your left hand while your right picks up the bottle.
“Oh right, uh, okay. Uhm, lemme just...” He quickly unzips his jeans to shuffle out of them and kick them aside, before moving forward to press his left knee on the outside of your right thigh. “I'm heavier than I look,” he warns while gingerly placing his right knee on the other side of your thighs, one hand pushed against the backrest beside your shoulder for stability.
You roll your eyes and grab his hips to pull his body onto your lap. Yoongi hiccups on an inhale in surprise at the sudden action that leaves him perched on your stable thighs with wide eyes. “I can handle it, don't worry.”
“You should know,” he rushes out quickly, causing your hands to halt where they have started to run over his thighs; curious to explore the skin you have never seen exposed on him before. “I already cleaned up; I do every shower- “
“I know.”
“H-how?”
“You told me when drunk once that you like to always be prepared to get dicked down. I figured out the rest due to the length of your showers, babe.”
“Oh...right...” He chews on his bottom lip, which almost matches the tint on his cheeks. “Oh well, I was going to say that you should always make sure your guy is cleaned first because you know...asshole.”
“Yeah, I got it.” You grin and squeeze his thigh supportively, which only makes him jolt. “Are you sure you want to do this, Yoongi? I really won't be offended if you don't. I don't want you to be uncomfortable or anything.”
“No, no, I do. S'just...we've been friends for a while now, and I never thought anything like this would happen between us. And I haven't been touched by anyone but myself in so long it kind of feels like the first time.”
“I'll go slow.”
"I know. I trust you. Wouldn't be doing this otherwise.” He huffs out a small laugh.
“I'm glad. I trust you too.” You smile at each other for a moment; allowing the moment to get used to what you're planning to do, even only a little. “So, Mr. Min, you're in charge here, I've no fucking clue what I'm doing so you kind of need to lead me.”
“Oh, right, yeah.” He inhales, then pushes up a little to shimmy his boxers down under the crease where his ass meets his thighs, it allows him to keep his crotch hidden by the material just in case his t-shirt doesn't. He isn't quite prepared for one of his closest friends to see his flaccid dick, no matter what you're about to get up to.
When he settles back down, he's unable to look in your eyes but you don't make him, knowing how shy he must feel right now.
“So uhm...you can start dry if you want, if you want to feel and get used to touching, just don't try and push in.”
“You're okay with that?” He nods and takes the lube to fiddle with the bottle and free your right hand. You wait a second, just in case, before moving your hand around his body to curiously trail your fingers over his smooth ass, humming in approval at the lack of hair at all. “Smooth.”
“Yeah, I uhm, I shave,” he admits.
“Must be awkward.”
“A little.” He sucks on his lip when your fingertip finds his rim and traces over it gently in an almost featherlight touch. “S'weird, right? Girls find it weird usually. For guys to be shaved.”
“I don't like body hair on anyone regardless of gender. Wouldn't bother me much if you did have it, just that being hair-free is my preference.”
“Does that mean you shave too?” He pointedly glances at your crotch.
“Wax, lasts longer.”
“Oh.” He swallows when your left hand leaves his thigh to pluck the bottle from his hands, giving him nothing to fiddle with. “I-I thought about trying but uh...seems hard to do alone.”
“Yeah, kind of is,” you admit, laughing softly and focusing on Yoongi's reactions to the sound of a cap opening and lube squirting out.
He lifts his right hand absently to chew on the skin beside his thumb; an anxiety fuelled habit he's working hard to quit.
“Hey.” You lean forward to nudge the top of his head with your nose. He lifts it just enough to peer at you. “We can stop, seriously,” you offer, tone genuine and soft.
He shakes his head and quickly lowers his hand to grasp your shirt as if he has only just realised what he's doing to his poor fingers. “I want to. Just nervous.”
“What usually helps you relax with a partner?”
“Kissing.”
“Do you want to kiss?” He blinks a few times before finding his eyes on your lips almost like he has never seen them before. “I'm more than happy to kiss you if it helps, baby.”
“O-okay.” He nods.
“No, not ‘okay’. Don't just agree with me, this won't work if you're not 100%, Yoongi.”
“I am.” He nods, firmer and more confidently. “I want to. Wanna kiss you.”
“Alright,” you agree with a short nod of your own. The syllables almost get sucked back into your throat when Yoongi suddenly surges forward to connect your mouths.
You wait for a few minutes until Yoongi is entirely absorbed in kissing before you press slick fingers against his rim. He jolts, and his mouth falters for a second before moving again; slower than before as if he's too busy focusing on what's about to happen compared to what he's doing. You don't blame him.
At first, you just circle his hole curiously until he squirms a little impatiently, and only then do you edge the tip of your index finger inside. Yoongi inhales sharply but doesn't jump or pull away. You wriggle your finger a little before pushing in further.
“You gotta let me know if I hurt you,” you warn once your finger is in as far as possible. Yoongi nods in agreement and reconnects your lips by grabbing your face and pulling it back to his. You chuckle with amusement against his lips, though are more than happy to follow his wishes.
You start a gentle, curious rhythm of softly prodding around inside, punctuated with sliding your finger out then back in.
“M-more,” he breathes out in no time at all, so you comply, pulling your finger out to return with another beside it. Yoongi lets out a soft moan at the barely there stretch, just a little more pressure at your knuckles that makes him sigh happily.
“It's okay?” you wonder.
“Y-yeah, can go a little faster if you want.”
“Okay, baby,” you agree, doing as asked, knowing it's more of a request than a suggestion. He's too shy to ask for what he wants, so you're going to have to read between the lines and you've already mentally prepared yourself for that.
You watch his reactions to your ministrations, his closed eyes, and parted lips, as his hips take barely noticeable movements, which you follow to do the best you can for him.
Up until this point, you have entirely avoided his prostate. Yoongi assumes it's because you don't know where it is, that you are getting used to everything else first before trying to search for it. But you know where it is and haven't wanted to touch it yet. You want Yoongi to genuinely get used to your touch and enjoy it without his prostate being brought in.
When you pull your hand out and away entirely, his eyes open and he frowns at you with a little whine of complaint. “Why'd you stop? Are you finished?”
“No,” you laugh, and shuffle you both a little so that you can slide your arm in the gap between your spread thighs to reach underneath him and slide your fingers back inside. “This angle is better.” You smirk and crook your fingers forward to press directly on his prostate. Yoongi's eyes roll back, and he moans loudly. “Right?”
"F-fuck, I-I thought you didn't know..."
“What, where the prostate is?” You laugh as he wriggles on your hands at the attack of your fingertips relentlessly rubbing the sensitive patch. “I know exactly where it is, I've just never put it to use before.”
“You su-sure?” His fingers knot in your hair when you wrap your free arm tight around his waist to hold him still, preventing his movements. “Shit, fuck.”
“You like being held still?”
“Fuck off.”
“Oh, really?” Suddenly, you stop your attack and pull your fingers out, to lean against the backrest with your elbows resting along the top. You lean your head on your left palm, the clean one, as the lube-slicked hand hangs limply.
“Wh-what?” Yoongi's eyes are wide with betrayal and desperation. “N-no, no, don't stop. Put your fingers back in my ass, come on,” he whines, tugging at your arm, but you hold it firmly in place, making him whine and bounce a little with frustration. “Please?”
“Good boy.” Your right hand hovers between your bodies. “More lube.”
He nods and obediently squirts out a fair amount of lube onto your waiting fingers. “Three now?”
“You want three?” you hum questioningly, sliding your arm back underneath to rub three fingers against his rim. He nods enthusiastically and tries to tilt his hips in a way to make them slide inside, yet you always move away with a grin.
“You're so mean.”
“I am.” He pouts cutely, making you giggle. “Okay, baby, I'll play nice.” And you do; you slide two fingers back inside to stretch him out a bit more, then add the third. “That okay?” you ask, moving carefully to allow him time to get used to it.
“Y-yeah, s'good.”
“Yeah?” He nods and circles his hips down against your hand. “Can you cum untouched?”
Yoongi falls still and opens his eyes to look at you; he honestly hadn't even realised that his eyes closed in the first place. “I've never tried,” he admits.
“Can we try? I think it'd be really hot.”
“Oh uh, okay,” he agrees, cheeks flushing a little darker than the pleasure and slight exertion already has them.
“You can change your mind at any time, okay?”
“I know,” he agrees, giving you a shy smile before leaning forward to return his lips to yours, so you straighten up and move your left arm from the back of the couch to wrap back around him.
You let him get used to the rhythm of your slow, deep kiss, which you've matched the movements of your fingers and he his hips to, before without warning, you push in harder and faster. Yoongi hiccups on a breath, which he doesn't have time to regulate before you pull out and repeat the action, causing your hand to slap against his ass a little.
What follows is a string of whines, and groans, and swears from Yoongi's open mouth, head tipped back and hips bouncing. “So good, you're so good,” he pants out, on the verge of mindlessness.
“I can be better,” you promise. Yoongi's hole clenches at the thought, making you groan a little. “You're so fucking hot, Yoongi.”
Yoongi gasps and bounces harder feeling his climax nearing. Your fingers curl and rub against his prostate with every thrust, and his movements grow more desperate. Your left arm returns around his waist to hold him still and force him to just take it, which causes an almost sob to break from his throat.
“G-gonna cum,” he announces, instinctively moving his hand between your bodies, but you remove your arm from around his waist to slap his hand away from where he almost has his cock in hand.
“Don't touch.”
“Can't help it. Need it,” he all but sobs while looking at you with wet, hooded eyes.
“No, you don't.”
“But-” He reaches out again, and you huff in frustration before pulling your fingers out of his ass. “No! No! No! M'sorry! I'll be good!” He begs, “Don't stop, please.”
“I won't, baby, it's okay, I'm going to make you cum,” you assure soothingly and press a kiss to his lips while wiping the tears trickling down his ruddy cheeks. “But you're unable to not touch yourself, so we need to move.”
“M-move?” He sniffles.
“On your back.” He nods and scrambles off of your lap to lay obediently on his back on the couch. He kicks off his boxers and spreads his legs ready for you. You admire him for a moment and only move when he wriggles self-consciously. “Sorry. You're so beautiful, you know that?”
“M'not,” he huffs, looking away as you turn to settle between his thighs on your knees and lay his thighs over your own.
“You are, don't argue with me.”
He pouts but doesn't argue further, which you find very interesting. He has essentially submitted to you and all it took was having his prostate touched.
For a moment, you stop to wonder if he's always this quick to submit or if it's because he trusts you and hasn't been touched by a hand except his own in so long. After roaming your eyes over his pliant body under you, you decide that it's a thought for later though and wriggle a pillow behind his head to prop him up just a little into a more comfortable position against the armrest.
“Hands above your head, baby.” He listens and lifts both arms to lay the backs of his hands against the armrest. When you lean over and cover his wrists with your left hand to pin them down, his eyes blow wide, and a shiver runs through his body. “Oh, that is a very interesting reaction, sweetheart. We'll have to talk about it later, but now.” You slide your fingers back into him, loving the way his eyes immediately roll back and his back arches slightly as your fingertips drag over his prostate.
In this position, you can't stop Yoongi's hips jerking and doing their best to fuck himself back on your fingers that force consistent full moans from his open mouth that sound like they come from the bottom of his chest.
It's clear when Yoongi's teetering on the edge of his climax as his tone grows higher and his movements more desperate while his arms fight to be freed so that he can touch himself.
“Come on, baby, you can do it. Let me see how messy you can get without your cock being touched, huh? Gonna let me see what good boys can do, hm?” you encourage with your eyes darting all over him; stuck between watching his face, and the outline of his cock hidden underneath his t-shirt due to the fact neither of you had thought to move it. You really wish you had pushed it up because the thought of seeing Yoongi cum all over himself probably does a little too much for you to be able to admit.
“M'a good boy,” he parrots mindlessly.
“Prove it. Cum for me.”
He whines and his legs pull up towards his torso as his body curls in a little before a loud, long moan tears from his throat while his legs push out and his back arches, pushing his chest towards you with the force of his orgasm surging through his body. You remove the pressure on his prostate and slow your movements down enough to not overstimulate or hurt yet still ride him through the pleasure with the slow drag.
When he slumps against the seat, chest shuddering with his heavy breaths, you gently remove your fingers, making him shudder a little and whimper.
“It's okay, baby, you did so good for me. Such a good boy, thank you.” You release his wrists, yet he makes no attempt to move, too tired from the most intense orgasm he has ever experienced. “I'm going to get some tissues from your desk, okay? I'll be right back.” Yoongi frowns and pouts at the thought of being left, yet does nothing else, doesn't even open his eyes until you're back and gently wiping the lube from his ass. “Hey.” You smile up at him when you notice he's more with it again, or at least enough to open his eyes. He pouts further. “What?”
“Kisses.”
“Oh.” You giggle and obligingly lean over him to press your lips to his.
The kiss is much slower and looser than any before; a clear reflection of how sated and lazy Yoongi feels, yet he still wants to kiss and softly lick into your mouth.
When you feel his movements get even slower, almost as if he's falling asleep while making out, you pull back. Yoongi whines and tries to chase your lips but he's back to not even bothering to open his eyes.
“Let me clean you up and then if you're still awake, we can kiss more, okay?” you reason.
“Hm, fine,” he slurs sulkily, though stays almost motionless on the seat with hands still above his head as his face turns towards the back of the couch.
“Are you okay with me lifting your t-shirt?” He hums and nods a little, and you know that's the most you'll get from him, so you gently lift the t-shirt out of the drying mess to hold up and away. You don't even take a second to take in the mess on his skin or his flaccid dick, just quickly and carefully wipe him up as best as you can before tossing out the tissues and returning the bottle of lube to what you hope is the correct desk drawer.
You return to the couch with Yoongi's hoodie and are about to ask him to sit up to change out of the dirty top yet find him snoring softly already. Instead, you shuffle his boxers back up onto his body and settle them snugly against his hips before gently and painstakingly removing the soiled t-shirt.
You just about manage to get the hoody on his uncooperative body as he whines and tries to curl back against the cushions every time you almost accidentally rouse him out of his sleep.
Once you're done with your task, you admire his relaxed, sleeping features for a moment too long, and then settle up to his desk to watch some videos while he sleeps.
During a break in between episodes, you hear shuffling, so you remove the headphones and turn to find Yoongi shuffling to sit up while rubbing at his eyes. “Sleep well?” you ask softly.
He nods, and yawns for good measure, before stretching and then finally looking at you. “How long was I sleeping?”
“Couple hours.”
“What?!” he baulks. “Why didn't you wake me?”
“Didn't have the heart to; you were pretty fucking exhausted.”
“Oh, uhm…” He looks down at himself as the actions previous to his nap return to his mind. “So, that happened...did you change me?” He tugs on his hoodie confused.
“Hm yeah, didn't think you'd appreciate waking up with a cum covered t-shirt.”
“No, yeah, right...thanks.” He turns to sit properly and places his feet on the floor. “So, uhm, are you sure you've never done that before?”
“Positive.”
“But that was better than tops I've been with.”
“Oh, really?” You beam proudly and he hums in confirmation with a nod. “Ah, well maybe it's because their intention isn't to make you feel good but to just get you ready so that they can stick their dicks in you,” you suggest.
“Maybe.” He shrugs and gets to his feet with a slight wince. “If this is how I feel with just your fingers, you'd destroy me with a dick,” he comments while grabbing his jeans from the floor to wobble into.
You get up to help steady him so that he doesn't fall on his ass. “Would you let me?”
“What?”
“Fuck you, if I bought a strap-on?”
“Oh.” He nods shyly.
“Words, baby, come on, you know the rules.”
“Shut up.” He huffs and bats you away while you snigger. You close down what you had been doing on the computer and return to the couch to flop down in a slouch. “Do you know where to buy one? A strap?” Yoongi glances at you as he buttons his jeans.
“Yep, the place I get my usual stuff from sells some interesting ones.”
“I'm honestly concerned about what you mean by interesting.”
“Look yourself.” You get back up to sit at the desk and open up the adult toy store's website. “Sit.” You pat your thighs invitingly.
Yoongi only hesitates a moment before sitting on your lap so that you can look at the screen together. “There is no way you're fucking me with that,” he deadpans when you point out an honestly obnoxiously huge dildo with ridges.
“Oh, so I can fuck you then?”
“With a normal one, yes,” he agrees, and moves your hand from the mouse to scroll himself. “Here look, normal.” He points to a very basic-looking, realistic dildo.
“Boo, boring. At least try a tentacle.” He glares at you, making you laugh. “Joking. How big do you like?”
“Uhm, just average is good.”
“Bullshit, you scream size queen to me.” Yoongi sputters but doesn't argue. “Find one that looks the best to you.”
“This is embarrassing,” he whines.
“No, it's not. Be a good boy and pick a cock to be fucked with, Yoongi,” you hum against his neck, earning a shiver. Yoongi doesn't hesitate to begin intently looking at all the options. “Hm, good boy.” You press an approving kiss against his skin and wrap your arms around his waist to squeeze a little. He jolts in surprise but then shuffles a little to settle in your hold.
After a little while of careful consideration, Yoongi shyly points out the one he likes the best and wants to try with you.
“Okay, add it to the basket,” you encourage, so, he does. “And now find a smaller one.”
“What?” He looks over his shoulder at you with a confused frown. “Why?”
“Because I've never done this before, so I don't want to go in with that one first and hurt you. Start small and build up to it.”
“Oh, okay, that's smart.” He agrees and returns his attention to the computer. He doesn't take as long to find a smaller dildo and add it to the basket. “Need a harness now,” he murmurs, clicking through to find the right section. “What kind do you want? There's underwear style ones with a connection on the front, or ones that are essentially harnesses.”
“I don't know. Maybe get one of each style to try?”
“Okay. What size?”
“I don't know, depends on their size guide. I haven't bought lingerie from this site, so I don't know what their sizing is like.”
“Lingerie?” Yoongi looks at you with interest. “You have lingerie?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh...will you wear some for me?”
“You want me to?” He nods. “Okay. We can look on here too and see if there's anything in particular you'd like to see.”
“Why didn't we do this earlier?” Yoongi groans, then leans over to kiss you for a moment. “You're the best.”
“I know,” you giggle and pat his thighs. “Find the size guide.”
A few days later, Yoongi finds himself seated at the head of your bed with his back against the headrest watching you unpack the box in front of him.
The order arrived this morning; you had excitedly texted Yoongi the moment it did, and he had immediately cleared his evening plans. As soon as his workday ended, Yoongi rushed home to drop off his stuff and shower thoroughly ready, then quickly made his way to your apartment.
So, here he is, both nerves and excitement running through his body knowing that soon, you will be fucking him. As each item is placed on the bed, Yoongi fidgets more and more. Just seeing the picture of the dildo on the side of the box has his dick plumping up.
He doesn't know it, he’s too busy staring down at all the new items, but you notice his fidgeting and reactions; the pink of his cheeks and the increased frequency of his tongue darting out to wet his lips. Even though you've only had one session of sexual activity together, you're pretty confident that you've correctly read his body language as rapidly growing arousal.
For a few moments longer, you continue to unpack the large box but pay no attention to it and only watch Yoongi's intent, wide gaze on the items. His obvious arousal is making your own heat up under your skin.
Suddenly, you quickly repack almost everything, making Yoongi jerk with concern and make a questioning noise.
“We can look at it after I've fucked you,” you declare when Yoongi's confused eyes find your own darkening ones. Yoongi swallows thickly and nods dumbly in agreement. “Do you want me to put anything on?” you ask, motioning to the lingerie that you have left out. Yoongi looks at it, mouth open, and genuinely considers it; whether he wants to see the lingerie or get fucked more. “If it helps, I'm wearing a set I already had under this.” You point to your outfit of a zipped-up hoodie and basketball shorts. Yoongi swallows again and nods slowly. “What?”
“I wanna see that.”
“Okay.” You giggle and toss the lingerie from the mattress into the box before picking the whole thing up and moving it to the floor out of the way. “I want to try the harness one today, it matches what I'm wearing.” You grin excitedly while picking up the box containing the wet-look-style strappy harness.
“Matches?” Yoongi mutters. You hum in confirmation. “Fuck.” You peer up at him through your eyelashes and giggle, before pressing one knee onto the mattress and leaning closer to him. “You're going to ruin me, aren't you?” he realises in a mumble.
“I'm certainly going to try,” you reply, a little breathless at the thought. You place your empty hand on his thigh to squeeze a little, making his breath hitch and legs jolt, before you lift your hand only to slap his inner thigh gently, and dart forward to place a disproportionately sweet peck on his lips. “I want you as naked as you're comfortable with by the time I get back from the bathroom.”
“O-Okay,” he agrees easily.
You grin, then lower for a more thorough kiss; one that lingers even when you're out of the room, taking the harness and smaller dildo with you to clean thoroughly.
“Fuck,” Yoongi exhales and takes a second to gather his wits before getting up to quickly remove all of his clothing except for his boxers; a brand-new set of tiny black shorts that do nothing to hide that his dick is hard and trying to escape from the waistband. Yoongi feels very vulnerable and exposed as he sits on the bed in nervous wait. He crosses and uncrosses his arms over his chest self-consciously a few times before reaching out to pick up the rather large bottle of anal lube left on the bed.
It's while he's reading the bottle to give himself something to do, after removing the packaging so that it can actually be used, that you return sans shorts and with the unpackaged dildo in your hand.
You pause at the doorway and dumbly stare at him, causing him to put the bottle down so that he can fold his arms over his bare chest again. “Shit, sorry, sorry, fuck, I didn't mean to make you feel self-conscious,” you apologise while rushing over. You carefully place the dildo upright on the side table beside the lube bottle before climbing up onto the bed and gently laying your hands over his arms. “You're just so beautiful, Yoongi, my brain short-circuited seeing you waiting for me on my bed like this. Like holy fucking shit, what kind of saint did I save in a past life to get Min fucking Yoongi waiting on my bed?”
“You don't need to be so dramatic,” he huffs, though his cheeks are hot with his blush and he allows you to tug his arms to his sides.
“I'm not.” He gives you a disbelieving expression. “I'm not! I swear! I'd never tell you empty words, Yoongi, you mean too much to me for me to ever even consider betraying your trust like that.” Your words are so genuine that Yoongi can't help but believe them and accept the truth, making his body warm further understanding that you genuinely think of him in such a way.
“Good,” he decides with a shy little nod. “Did you get the harness on okay?”
You hum and nod, leaning up onto your knees in front of him and lifting your hands to the zipper of your jumper. “Wanna see?”
“Of course, I wanna-” he cuts off with a choke when you abruptly open the zipper, revealing a glimpse of a crisscross of straps across the exposed skin of your torso. He doesn't even have it in him to curse under his breath when you remove the jumper to toss aside carelessly.
If all of his blood hadn't rushed south and left no brain power behind, Yoongi would see that you definitely aren't as confident as you have been acting; your hands twitch at your sides, and your teeth gently clamp on your bottom lip. But Yoongi is too hypnotised by your body wrapped in intricate lengths of black, wet-look material that makes you look like the present of his wet dreams.
“So?” you ask what feels to you like at least ten minutes later, when Yoongi still hasn't done anything except stare jaw dropped at you. To your relief, your sudden voice snaps Yoongi back to reality and makes him drag his lust-darkened eyes up to yours.
Without a word, he gets up until he's on his knees mirroring you, before taking your face into his hands to kiss you heavily. The little noise you can't prevent from escaping your mouth makes Yoongi groan deeply and lower one hand, so that he can wrap his arm around your waist and pull you closer while he moves until you're pressed together. Feeling the smooth latex under his hand has Yoongi's dick twitching back to life where it's pressed between your bodies.
It makes you giggle upon feeling it, before pressing your body forward just enough to make Yoongi groan at the pressure. “I assume that's a good reaction?” you hum breathlessly when the kiss breaks, and you motion to yourself to show that you mean his reaction to how you look.
“You have no idea how sexy you are to me,” Yoongi replies a little dumbly, making you giggle through your blush. “I'm really fucking glad you got this harness and ignored my hesitation on the wet look. I never knew I was into it until now.”
“I have a wet-look dress,” you inform. “And I'm going to wear it when we next all go out, just to wind you up.”
“Please don't make me get hard in public, I'm an idol,” he whines. “I can't be caught with a boner.”
“Guess you better learn to control your dick then.” You grin and nudge him back. “Lay down, I really wanna get my hands on your ass as soon as possible. I've been thinking about this non-stop for four days.”
“You have?” Yoongi replies while doing as told and moving backwards until he's laid down in the centre of the bed with his head on the pillows. You hum in confirmation while taking the chance to rake your eyes over his body hungrily. It makes Yoongi's body warm to see how much you like his body, even though he doesn't think it is anything special at all. “M-me too,” he admits, causing you to look up at his face and smile softly at him. He smiles back shyly, before bravely reaching down to hook his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers.
Your eyes at once snap down to watch as he slowly pushes his underwear down until he has to lift his hips up to slide them over his ass and to his thighs, where you take over and carefully remove the cloth entirely from his body to drop to the floor beside the bed. And then you look at him to take him in in his fully nude state. Your cheeks visibly warm and your mouth drops open just enough for your tongue to poke out and prod your bottom lip. “Can I suck your dick?” you ask bluntly, licking your lips again.
“Really?” You nod and shuffle closer until Yoongi has to spread his legs to allow you to kneel between them with your hands on his smooth thighs. “Y-yeah,” he agrees, nodding quickly, even if you're entirely enraptured by his erection so don't see his action.
Without hesitation, you lower down onto your left elbow and wrap one hand loosely around his erection just to hold it up and allow you to slide it into your mouth enthusiastically. Yoongi's hips instinctively kick up at the sudden, wet warmth and he curses, reaching out to slide his fingers into your hair. You make a happy sound around his length and wiggle your hips as you work him in your mouth, which draws Yoongi's attention to your ass where it's stuck up in the air and showing off your curves in the straps.
“Jesus, fuck,” he grunts. “Fucking-fuck-look at you,” he breathes out, eyes dragging over your body and down to where your lips are wrapped around his dick, eyes up on him. He swears again. “You need to stop or I'm going to cum,” he warns.
You heed his warning and pull off with a soft laugh. “I was there for like ten seconds,” you point out amusedly.
He shrugs and looks away embarrassed, only to look back with a gasp when you attach your mouth to his inner thigh to suck a bruise into. “Shit,” he chokes, legs shaking a little. Suddenly overcome with desperation, he reaches out to grab the lube and shove it against your shoulder.
“Hm, okay, baby,” you agree while sitting up on your knees again so that you can take the bottle and pump some of the contents onto your fingers. “Do you want it like this or a different position?” you ask, putting the bottle aside on the mattress for when you need it again.
“This,” he answers, grabbing a spare pillow to wiggle under his hips. “Wanna see you.”
“Okay.” Your smile is happy, and you lean down over him to press your lips to his.
Yoongi lifts both hands to gently hold your face as you kiss slowly and deeply. His breath hitches as your wet fingers touch his rim, though he doesn't stop kissing you. A little whimper leaves his throat as one finger slowly edges in. You make a curious sound at the much less resistance compared to the last time you had your fingers inside of Yoongi yet say nothing and add a second.
“Did you already finger yourself?” you ask, unable to stop yourself when you can already add a third.
“Y-yeah,” he confirms. “Is that okay? Are you upset?”
“I mean, usually I would definitely like to prep you myself; your ass is the eighth wonder of the world-” He rolls his eyes, making you laugh. “But I honestly think it's best to not get me that turned on today, so that I can have at least some self-control when fucking you for the first time.”
“Fingering me turns you on?” You nod. “Oh, I didn't realise, you seemed normal last time.”
“I wanted to focus on you too much to pay attention to it. But after, jeez, I had to watch a very dry show to calm myself back down,” you snigger with amusement at the memory.
“M'sorry.” You frown confusedly down at him and remove your fingers from his ass. He's about to complain but notices you're reaching for the dildo so instead presses his lips together.
“For what?” you wonder.
“What?”
“You apologised. Why?”
“I fell asleep.”
“Yeah?” Your head tilts down as you look at the harness so that you can attach the dildo properly.
“I didn't get you off.” You laugh a little. “What?” He frowns. “Why's that funny?”
“All I wanted was to finger you. I didn't want you to do anything but cum yourself, and you definitely did that, so I was more than happy with your involvement, Yoon. There was nothing else I wanted from that experience.”
“So, you didn't want to cum?” He looks at you disbelievingly until you lift your head, having successfully attached the toy after a little fiddling.
“It wasn't the plan, no.”
“But did you want to?”
“I mean, I haven't been that turned on in a long time, well, until now. But if I wanted to cum, I could've gone and taken care of it while you were asleep. Just because I made you cum, it doesn't mean you owe me one, that's not how this works, Yoon.”
“I know,” he mumbles, running his hands down your body to finger the harness until he locates the dildo, and can wrap his hand around it and tug, forcing you to get closer between his spread-wide thighs. “But I want to. Wanna make you feel good.”
“You do, trust me, you do,” you assure, before pressing a sweet, short kiss to his lips. “Can I fuck you now?”
“Definitely.” He nods, eyes wide with anticipation.
With excitement in your eyes, you reach down to knock Yoongi's hand from the dildo so that you can apply more than enough lube. Yoongi is staring at you questioningly when you look back up at him. “What? I like it messy,” you giggle shyly, and look back down so that you can watch as you guide the toy to Yoongi's awaiting hole.
“You do?” You nod. “Me too.” You grin brightly up at him, happy at the shared interest, before slowly pushing your hips forward. Yoongi's eyes widen a little and his lips part as he's breached by the toy.
“Okay?” you worry.
“Yeah, keep going,” he confirms, looping his fingers into the straps over your hips to pull you towards him at a speed quicker than you would've moved yourself, but if anyone knows Yoongi's limits, it's Yoongi himself, so you let him.
In no time at all, your hips are pressed flush to him and he's breathing a little heavier at being full.
“Fuck me, come on, fuck me,” he breathes out encouragingly, removing his fingers from the straps to give you control back and instead press his palms to your waist.
“Okay, baby,” you hum and press a kiss to his chest, before leaning up onto your haunches, and use your hands to press Yoongi's thighs open further.
Yoongi swallows thickly and knows he will never come back from this the same and you haven't even moved yet. And then you do, slowly dragging back before shoving forward and knocking a moan from Yoongi that he wasn't aware he could produce. You smirk at him before tightening your hold and repeating the action.
“F-fuck,” he stammers, gripping the bedding beneath him in an attempt to ground himself. You've only thrust twice and he's already leaking on his stomach.
“Okay?” He nods madly. “Hm, let's get that better.” The look on your face is a little dark and very determined, and Yoongi keens before you've even pulled back out. This time, you adjust your position a little to get yourself better leverage to essentially pull back and then pound into Yoongi, while simultaneously rolling your hips and causing Yoongi's back to arch and his eyes to roll back. He's not going to last at all.
It's not even a minute of the unbelievably good fucking later that Yoongi wraps a shaking hand around his cock to tug at it desperately for only a few seconds before his body pulls tight and he comes all over his torso. You watch the whole ordeal with hooded eyes and an open mouth as you pant from exertion and arousal. Not knowing if Yoongi gets overstimulated quickly and not wanting to hurt him, you quickly slow your movements and stop when his hand falls from his cock.
While Yoongi lays there breathing heavily with his chest heaving and eyes closed, you pull out and remove the dripping toy from the harness.
Without a word, you get up and move to the bathroom to rinse off the toy and leave it on the counter to wash properly later, and then you grab a washcloth to dampen it and return to Yoongi. He blinks his eyes open when you clamber back onto the bed and start to clean him up.
By the time you've finished cleaning his chest and ass up, Yoongi's breathing is back to normal and he's watching you, looking more satisfied than you've ever seen him.
“Hey.” You smile as you settle beside him, washcloth on the side table behind you. He purses his lips at you, so you lean forward to kiss him slowly. When you pull back, you remain on your side propped up with your head on your left hand. “How you feeling? I didn't go too hard, did I?”
“I'm pretty sure how quick I came answers that,” he huffs, pouting at the ceiling. “Swear I'm not usually that quick.”
“It was hot, I don't mind the time frame,” you reply honestly, and lean down to kiss his shoulder. “I knew you'd look good coming on yourself,” you hum against his skin. “Wish I had photographic memory, so I never forget a moment of that sight.”
“Shut up.”
“I'm being serious!” You lift up and pout at him. “I'm sad that I won't forever remember it that well.”
“Well...it's not like that's the only chance you'll get to see it.” He shrugs, turning onto his right side to face you, so you lower to lay down too. “I can't get over how good you are at these sexual things you've never done before.”
“I'm naturally gifted,” you joke cheekily.
Yoongi chuckles and nods. “Yeah, you are. I'm both scared and excited to see how much better you'll get with practice. You're going to own my ass in no time; I won't be able to fuck anyone else because they won't be as good as you. Fucking Pavlov me.”
“Don't think that's the right term, but I'll take it.”
He doesn't respond and instead shuffles closer to kiss you. Yoongi's left hand travels down to hold onto one of the strips of material over your ribs. “How hard is this to get off?”
“Very.” He groans. “Why?”
“Wanna eat you out.” Your eyes blow wide in shock. “I can't tell what that look means.”
“No one's said that to me before,” you admit softly.
“What?” Yoongi's frown is beyond offended. “How could no one say that to you?” He huffs and leans up while nudging you onto your back. You go willingly with a shrug. “Well, I really want to. Can I?” You nod and reach down to unclasp the buckles of the harness. Yoongi shuffles down the bed so that he can pull it off your legs once you've opened it. “How do we-” he cuts off when he looks up and realises that the straps of the lingerie have been designed to leave your crotch entirely bare. “Fuck.”
Immediately, Yoongi lowers down onto his stomach between your thighs and presses them wider to stare at where you're glistening with arousal.
“How is all of you so fucking perfect?” Even though it's a question, he's really talking to himself, his voice low and thick with arousal. Yet even if he is talking to you and expects a response, you wouldn't be able to form one, your voice is stuck in your throat with nerves. “Tell me if I do something you don't like, okay?” he says, leaning up enough to make eye contact with you. You just nod, cheeks flushed pink, and your bottom lip sucked nervously between your teeth. Yoongi shoots you a gentle smile, then lowers to press a soft kiss to your hip.
You watch intently as Yoongi trails soft kisses across your skin and over the shiny fabric digging slightly into your thigh due to your legs being spread by Yoongi's hands. He stops at your inner thigh in between two straps, seemingly entranced by the little bulge caused by the material. As if he doesn't have any control, Yoongi opens his mouth a little wider and clamps down, making you gasp.
The noise brings him back to reality and he almost pulls off, but as he's releasing his jaw, your gasp fully registers, and he realises that it wasn't a bad gasp at all. Instead of continuing to open his jaw, he closes it further and fights down his own groan feeling his teeth press into the giving flesh. He sucks a little harsher than he normally starts off, yet you whimper and your left hand flutters atop his head in a way that feels as if you want to grasp but aren't brave enough. So, Yoongi sucks harder, borderline painfully, and is rewarded with fingers in his hair and grasping securely, encouragingly.
Yoongi suckles the spot for a moment longer before pulling off with a pop. You both eye the bright red mark and admire the indents left by his teeth before Yoongi suddenly darts down again. You expect him to attach to the mirrored spot on your other thigh, but he shocks you by suctioning to the soft, smooth flesh over your pubic bone, so close to your clit that it makes it tingle.
You're so caught off guard that a moan of pleasure escapes your mouth before you can stop it. You loosen your right hand from the sheets with every intention of lifting it to cover your mouth in embarrassment; it was too loud of a noise for such a small act in your mind.
It seems that Yoongi knows you too well though, despite never having done anything like this together before, as his left hand quickly darts up and grabs your wrist, causing you to fall still. You blink down at him and find his dark eyes on you warningly. Your arm twitches upwards, and his grip tightens even as his mouth neither moves to detach nor do anything more.
Yoongi's eyes square a little; a silent command, and although you don't really listen to anyone usually regardless of circumstance, you nod obediently and relax your arm.
Yoongi's gaze relaxes and he directs your hand to your own thigh just so that he can link your fingers together while also allowing him to still keep pressure on your thighs to have them remain open for him.
Really, Yoongi would love to take advantage of the fact that you're the first person to seem to like the rougher biting his gums always ache for, but he was determined to give you the best head you'll ever have before his oral fixation kicked in, and now he's reminded of that upon seeing the way you’ve actually submitted to him, even a little.
He decides that you definitely deserve a reward for that alone.
Only a little reluctantly, Yoongi slowly releases his suction and pulls back just enough to allow the sight of the forming bruise to shoot a lick of arousal into his stomach, before he lowers even further to softly trail his tongue up your folds, carefully avoiding your hole and clit, not wanting to jump in too fast for you on your first time receiving oral.
A fact that honestly makes him kind of angry; how could no one have offered to go down on you? It's vile and selfish in his mind, and he wants to give you the best experience he possibly can.
You don't make any noise in response, so he doesn't know if you like it, but at the very least, you don't try to remove either of you from the situation, so you're willing to let him continue.
For a few minutes, Yoongi keeps his actions relatively soft everywhere he touches, yet he still doesn't gain much of a response from you. You're breathing a little heavier, and he can see that your eyes are closed; you do look like you're enjoying yourself but you're quiet. If he hadn't heard a moan moments before, he would assume that you're just quiet in general during sex, but he had and he wants more. You sounded so good that he honestly wants to record you to play back when he's alone with a hand in his pants. Maybe you're just not that into oral.
Not wanting to be a letdown, Yoongi carefully tugs his hand free from your grasp and presses your own palm to your thigh. When he sees your fingers curve a little to hold your thigh, he smiles to himself and presses a finger to your hole lightly; a warning of what's to come. You don't pull away, so he slowly presses in, watching entranced as you swallow him up with no issue.
Feeling you ready to take another, he pulls out and adds another finger alongside the first and watches all the same as soft, wet heat envelops them both happily. Although there isn't much resistance due to how wet you are, there's definitely more pressure on his fingers, especially around his second knuckle. He looks up to watch your reaction as he pushes in for any sign of discomfort.
Your eyebrows furrow the tiniest amount, and your mouth drops open a little wider as a stuttered breath leaves. Your hips push down slightly, shyly almost, and all worry leaves Yoongi. You like it and want more. So, he gives it to you, pushing his fingers in completely, only slightly faster than his original pace, but you immediately react and suck in a breath.
Suddenly, it hits Yoongi that you had reacted so strongly enough to moan when he was being harsh and rough. You like the borderline pain and firmer actions, not the soft gentle touches he has been trying, thinking it will be the best move for your first time.
With this revelation, Yoongi attaches his mouth directly to your clit and sucks, while pulling his fingers out just to the second knuckle where they're widest, and uses that girth to stimulate your opening. Immediately, you gasp and moan breathily, tightening your fingers in his hair enough to make him moan around your clit.
The pace Yoongi takes up fucking his fingers into you is fast and just a level below hard considering he isn't left-handed, and the angle isn't the easiest to navigate while he's toying endlessly with your clit with his mouth; teeth included, making his own body sing with arousal.
He's definitely hard and leaking between the mattress and his stomach.
Yoongi can't believe how worked up he's getting so quickly. Sure, he always loves giving oral, especially if it means he also has his fingers in a wet, warm hole, but he never gets hard from it after already being fucked so well. But you react so well to his rough actions, and you seem to love the intensity of his oral fixation, allowing him to really suction and bite as much as he wants.
Honestly, if he couldn't feel you tightening around his fingers and your hips shaking with the effort of keeping still, Yoongi would be certain that he's much more into the activity than you are. But your approaching orgasm is clear, especially with your frequent little moans growing closer together and higher in pitch. Though he does kind of wish you wouldn't control yourself like this, he kind of really most definitely wants you to fuck his face.
Maybe he'll have to ask you to sit on his face one day, and preferably very soon.
“Yoon,” you warn with a gasp, eyes flying open to stare down at him, but his eyes are closed and focused, though he does squeeze your thigh a little to show that he’s heard and understands. You let your eyes close again and your head tips back as the pleasure teeters right on the edge.
One more run of Yoongi's teeth over your swollen clit sends you tumbling over, cursing as the orgasm shoots through your body quickly.
Usually, it'd be over as quick as that, but Yoongi hasn't stopped his movements; if anything, he seems more eager to lap around his fingers and fuck into you. He even curls his fingers up into that spot he's found but not yet focused on, to now zero in on it and apply an almost torturous amount of pleasure that's borderline painful with the orgasm barely even over.
“Oh, fuck,” you whine, curling your fingers tight enough into your thigh that your short, blunt nails dig in sharply.
A second orgasm hits out of nowhere, and you gasp deeply, curving your back at the intensity, and lose all control of your hips. Yoongi moans deeply as he's forced face-first into your pussy, where he happily attaches his mouth to suck yet another bruise harshly.
As soon as you've mostly come down from the second orgasm to the point that you're mentally back on Earth, you tighten your grip in Yoongi's hair to tug him up, while he makes a noise of complaint at being pulled away from eating you out, so that you can kiss him heavily, careless of your taste on his tongue and lower face that's glistening with your own arousal. That at least stops his complaints, and he quickly settles into the kiss, lowering down his top half, yet keeping his hips up so that his naked erection doesn't touch you. You realise what he's doing and hook your legs over his hips to tug him down, making him groan deeply as his erection slips against your slick skin.
“Can't believe you got me hard already,” he grunts, lowering his head to kiss down your neck. You turn your head to give him better access, and when he starts to suck, you grind your hips up against him. “Fuck,” he pants.
“Want you to fuck me,” you admit a little breathlessly.
“Seriously?” You nod and whine a little, while grinding harder and feeling his hard length rub firmly over your clit. “Shit, okay, condom?” You shake your head, making him sigh. “Then-”
“I'm clean and got my tubes tied,” you inform, turning your head to him when he pulls back to look down at you.
“Me too; clean and vasectomy,” he mumbles in disbelief. Your eyes light up with excitement that reflects in his. “So, we're both free of transmittable diseases and infertile,” he summarises.
“Which means you can fill me up and make a mess.”
“Fuck.” With no reason to hesitate, or the will to, Yoongi reaches down to grip his erection and line up with your entrance. Your legs drop to the mattress to spread wide, and Yoongi pushes in.
“Ah, fuck,” you whimper as he pushes in, your eyes fluttering closed, and hands gripping his sides.
“You okay?” You nod rapidly. “Doesn't hurt?”
“Feels good.”
“Y-yeah,” he agrees, lowering his gaze to watch as his cock fills your pussy and leaves his vision, buried snugly in your warmth. “Fuck, feel so good, baby.” Your eyes blink open at the petname to look at him in surprise. “What?”
“Baby?”
He's genuinely puzzled for a second, before he recalls that he just called you that without thought, and his cheeks warm with embarrassment. “Sorry, didn't realise.”
“I'm not opposed, like at all, fucking love petnames,” you admit easily, and lift your arms to wrap around his neck loosely while a mischievous glint appears in your eyes. Before Yoongi can question what exactly that means, you rock your hips, making him suck in a sudden inhale and shudder at the unexpected friction on his cock. You burst into laughter at his reaction and flop down onto the mattress. “Did you get possessed?”
“Shut up,” he huffs while his cheeks burn with embarrassment. “You surprise attacked me.”
“Surprise attacked,” you cackle, your hands cupping your own cheeks and fingers pressing into where your cheeks bunch the highest. Yoongi pouts at you, which only makes you giggle; a different kind of laugh, one more adoring for his cute expression, but it still isn't what he wants and he's feeling petty.
Without warning, he pulls back his hips, then slams forward, punching a strangled gasp of pleasure from your mouth as your hands fly up to brace against the wooden poles of the ornate headboard. Yoongi smirks at your wide-eyed and open-mouthed expression, then reaches up to brace himself with one hand against the flat of the headboard while his other slides under your lower back until he can wrap his arm around you enough to hold your body still. And then, he wastes no more time and starts almost brutally fucking you.
It's intense and pleasurable in a way you're not used to. Of course, you have been fucked hard before, but it was never like this. Not because people haven't tried, but they simply can't pull the pleasure from your very soul like Yoongi seems to be doing.
Even if you want to, you wouldn't be able to stop the stream of pleasured sounds from leaving your open mouth, but you don't even want to; don't feel like hiding as you aren't the only one who seems unable to clamp their own vocals. Yoongi is just as loud as you are, and it honestly only turns you on even more.
Usually, both you and Yoongi like to talk to your partners; check in and praise them, talk dirty and tease, yet neither of you have it in you to do so. You couldn't even talk if you tried, not past the occasional swear or utter of the other's name or a petname.
Yoongi quickly takes up calling you “princess” and you have to admit, you really fucking like how it sounds from his lips. Others have tried to use the petname with you before, but you could never take it seriously and tended to laugh or to fuck off, depending on the situation. Yet with Yoongi, it sends warmth to your chest that trickles into your stomach and lower, to add to the quickly-growing impending orgasm.
Yoongi has no idea how he's keeping up the pace; his chest is heaving, and his thighs are burning, and he's certain he's so close to getting a cramp in his left ass cheek somehow, but he can't give any mind to it; it's all on you and how fucking good you feel wrapped around his cock.
You keep sporadically squeezing him and he doesn't know if it's a sign of a nearing orgasm or just how you feel pleasure, but either way, it feels beyond fucking words and he both never wants it to end and is chasing his orgasm desperately. He wants to fill you up and then watch his cum spill out from your pussy afterwards.
Fuck, maybe you'll even let him fuck it out of you, perhaps in the shower once he has his strength back after a much-needed nap.
When you remove one hand from the headboard and shove it down between your bodies to play with your clit roughly, Yoongi makes certain to keep his movement the same to not ruin your pleasure.
Watching you touch yourself all but shoves him headfirst over the edge and his hips jerk unintentionally as his orgasm hits, spilling cum into you with a few breathless moans of your name. Your breath hitches in response, before you're squeezing him tight, earning more pleasured curses to fall from his mouth as he feels your orgasm in the rhythmic tightening of your walls pulsating around his cock.
Slowly, you both fall still with closed eyes and heavy breathing as you ride out the aftershocks and last dregs of pleasure.
“Jesus, fuck,” Yoongi's the first to speak some minutes later, when he finally has his head screwed on relatively straight and is only panting a little. You laugh at his comment, but it's definitely an agreeing sound.
Jesus fuck indeed.
“I'm not sure who is gonna Pavlov who here,” you muse, reaching out to cup his face in both hands. “C'mere.” Yoongi goes willingly, lowering down and wincing a little as he feels his soft dick slipping out, but neither of you comment on it, you’re both too interested in kissing; happy and sated, and kind of lazy, but it's good.
When the kiss breaks, Yoongi clambers off of you and drops down at your side, sinking on his right side comfortably against the pillow and letting his body relax. “I need a nap,” he mutters, earning an amused giggle while you turn onto your left side to face him. “Actually no, fuck a nap, need a coma.”
“You're ridiculous.”
“If you tell me that you still have the energy to fuck, you're insane.”
“I mean...give me like ten minutes to get a drink, and yeah, I probably could.”
“Fucking hell, you're going to kill me,” he groans, turning his head into the pillow, but the noise isn't exactly one of argument.
“Good way to go though, right?” You grin, and he looks back at you with a chuckle.
“Definitely.” He reaches out with a heavy arm to tug on the straps over your stomach. “C'mere, wanna spoon my princess.”
“Are you trying to get fucked?” you comment, making him snort out a tired laugh. Instead of going to him, you roll out of bed, making him whine and pout in complaint. “I'll be right back; I really do need a drink.”
“Hurry,” he mumbles, letting his eyes flutter close.
You hobble to the kitchen as quickly as you can, so that you can gulp down as much cool water as possible without making yourself sick, and then you refill your glass. You're about to fill a glass for Yoongi too, but considering how tired he is, you know he won't sit up even to drink if his mouth is dry. So, you find a bottle with a straw, that you hope won't spill if on its side, and fill that with cold water instead.
You return to your bedroom and place your glass down before tucking the bottle by Yoongi and guiding the straw into his open mouth. He's pretty much asleep, but the touch wakes him, and although he doesn't know what's going on in his sleep-addled mind, when you tell him to drink and tap the straw on his lip, he wraps his lips around it to do as told, and gropes around until he finds the bottle to hold steady without opening his eyes.
You take the chance to struggle your way out of the lingerie on your body and toss it aside to deal with later.
By the time you clamber back onto the bed, Yoongi's fallen asleep again, bottle still held and straw to his lips. You giggle amusedly and remove the item, making him snuffle awake again. Once the bottle is beside your glass, you shuffle down with your back to him and pull his arm over your waist.
Yoongi hums happily and shuffles closer until you're pressed together and his face is in your neck. He inhales deeply and tightens his arm around your waist, tucking his hand up by your chest, and that's when he suddenly realises that he can feel nothing but skin against his own. He jolts up a little onto his right elbow, and peers blearily down at you. You watch his expression from over your shoulder; you can see the fatigue slip away, and his tongue wet his lips as he notices that for the first time, you're completely naked.
“You're naked,” he mumbles, tracing his left hand over your waist and hip, watching the trail his touch takes. You just hum in confirmation and allow him to touch all the new skin he can see. “Beautiful,” he sighs out, and then lowers back down to curl around your back. You can feel his dick against your ass, and it has definitely plumped up a little in the past moments, and, of course, you just have to tilt your hips back to brush your ass against it. He nips your shoulder in retaliation, earning a giggle from you. “I'm too fucking tired right now, baby.”
“I like cock warming." You pout, grinding back against him. "Don't you wanna be all snug as you sleep?”
“You're fucking ridiculous,” he huffs, amusement in his tone, before pressing his hips forward against you. “Go on then, you get me hard, you can warm me as much as you want while we sleep.”
“What if I can't sleep?” He makes a curious sound. “I usually can sleep no problem with a cock in me, but something about you brings out the deviant in me, so...what's your stance on somnophilia?”
“The fuck's that?”
“Sleep sex.”
“You want to have sex while we sleep?”
“I'd be awake if I can't sleep, dumbass.”
“Shut up, m'tired.” He bites your shoulder a little harder this time, but that just makes you curve into him and press your ass harder against his gradually hardening dick. “Fuckin-” He inhales and purposely moves his mouth away from your skin so that he won't give in to temptation again. He's pretty sure that if he does bite you again, you'll definitely wind up going for another intense round, and he's certain he cannot physically handle that until he wakes up again. He's never been so exhausted from sex alone.
“So?” you prompt when he stays quiet behind you. “I'm personally into it either way.”
“Mm, I dunno, just go to sleep for now, baby.”
“Okay, Yoonie,” you agree and pull your hips away from him, giving his dick space to breathe and soften without your touch. Yoongi hums appreciatively and curls his arm back around your waist, though makes sure to keep his hand away from your chest. He knows that if he feels your breasts he will not be able to get to sleep until he has sufficiently played with them.
When you're almost asleep, Yoongi speaks up in a low rough tone, close to sleep himself. “If you wake up and I'm hard, do what you want.”
“Yeah?”
“Mm, just try not to wake me.”
“Okay.” You smile to yourself and snuggle in close, smiling a little more at the kiss that gets pressed to your head.
To your absolute joy, when you wake a little under an hour later, you and Yoongi are pressed so close together that his dick has hardened in his sleep.
You grin to yourself, and although you're barely awake, you know what you want. So, you painstakingly move into a better position so that when you reach behind yourself and carefully hold Yoongi's erection, you can guide it into yourself, making you sigh in happiness. You really do like being full.
You peer over your shoulder to make sure you haven't woken Yoongi, then shuffle again, sliding further onto his length until you're pressed tight up against him. You watch Yoongi's face contort and little huffs of breath escape his lips from the pleasure, but he doesn't wake, so you settle back down, and are soon back asleep.
You aren't surprised to have a sex dream, though you are surprised by just how vivid it is. You've had similar kinds of dreams before where you're actively seeking pleasure in a lucid-dreaming kind of way, but you usually wake up before achieving your orgasm goal. But this time, you wake up with the force of the dream orgasm that turns out to be real.
“Fuck,” Yoongi curses roughly behind you, one hand on your hip as he rocks into you.
“Yoonie?” you mumble sleepily while looking over at him, cheeks warm with the pleasure but eyes barely open.
“Hi, princess,” he greets with a smile tilting towards a smirk. You whine and push back against him. “You want more?” he asks, his own cheeks slightly pinkened from fucking you as you slept without moving your position to not wake you. You nod and reach down to move his left hand from your hip and place it on your sternum instead. “Alright, whatever my princess wants,” he agrees, leaning forward to press a kiss to your jaw while moving his hand to cup your left breast. “Didn't know your tits are so big,” he comments lowly as he returns to rocking into you slow and deep. “Hide 'em so well.”
“H-have to; get looks oth-” Yoongi hits a real good spot with his thrust, making you cut off with a whine as your eyes roll back. “Yoon,” you plead.
“Alright, fuck.” He shuffles closer and lays his palm flat on the top of your chest to hold you back against him, before rabbiting into you while barely pulling out, meaning he keeps hitting that same spot rapidly, making you whine and writhe and gasp out his name. “Good girl.”
The tingle in his teeth returns as he stares at the mostly faded teeth marks on your shoulder from before sleep. He knows those marks will be soon gone with no evidence, no bruise left behind and that doesn't sit well with him. Yoongi leans down to attach his mouth harshly over the same spot. You jerk in response, and automatically, his hand lifts to restrain you and wrap loosely around your throat. You instantly fall still as your walls squeeze him tight.
Yoongi gasps against your shoulder and removes his hand, but you whine in serious complaint, locking your grasp on his arm. “Are you sure?” he asks as you lead his hand back to your throat. You nod madly. “Words, please, baby, I need verbal confirmation to do this. It's dangerous and-”
“Yes, yes, I want it, choke me, Yoongi,” you plead, turning your head just enough that your wet gaze meets his and he can see the truth and desperation in your eyes. “Please?”
“Fuck, okay, kick me if it's too much, or you need a break, or change your mind, or-”
“I won't,” you sound so certain that Yoongi can only nod and curl his fingers to show that he's more than willing. There's practically no pressure to his touch, yet you still gasp and slump against the pillow as your eyes flutter shut.
Yoongi licks his lips and takes a second to compose himself, before he applies a little pressure. Your mouth opens in a silent gasp but otherwise, you're practically boneless on the mattress, entirely trusting your vulnerability to him; submitting to him in a way nobody ever has before. Yoongi growls a little and doesn't even have it in him to question himself there, before he returns to fucking you; rougher than before with longer strokes, yet still successfully pulling moans from your parted lips.
He waits a little before squeezing harder, hard enough to make breathing hard for you, but you fucking love it, clamping down tight on his cock and making no attempt to free yourself.
Yoongi's cock throbs, and as much as he wants to keep going, he knows he can’t and removes the pressure to allow you to suck in some ragged breaths. He takes the chance to readjust his position so that he can once again mouth at your skin and work on another mark, slowing his hips enough that he doesn't jostle your body as much. But that makes you whine in complaint.
He thinks that if you can whine, you have enough breath, so he constricts your airflow again, and angles his hips to try and find that spot inside you again. When he finds it, you choke, so he releases his pressure and focuses on once again battering that spot with short quick thrusts that make you moan endlessly through heaving for breath.
With his hand resting on your throat, your walls dripping and tight as hell around his cock, and his mouth suctioned to the crook of your neck, Yoongi is so fucking close to an orgasm. You're so fucking tight around him, but he has no idea if you can orgasm without clitoral stimulation. He's vaguely concerned that he will cum while you suffer without your clit being touched, but he can't physically do it, and you're too far gone to seem to register that it's something you can actually do.
Too close and desperate to stop, Yoongi decides he can make you cum once he has himself, and once again tightens his hold on your throat. To his surprise, your back immediately curves and your pussy spasms around him as wetness suddenly increases, and he's hit with the possible fact that you just squirted with your orgasm.
Yoongi's orgasm hits him like a truck. He doesn't mean to bite down harder and doesn't even register the metallic taste on his tongue until the post-orgasm fuzz leaves his brain. He gasps in shocked horror and leans back, glad that he had moved his hand from your throat and not also choked you out in a non-sexy way in his mindlessness.
The bite mark is pretty vicious looking; bruised deeply from his sucking and ringed by tooth-shaped indents, all of which are bleeding a little. Luckily, none are particularly deep, but still, he's horrified. Partly by what he's done, and partly at the fact the sight sends arousal flitting teasingly through his body.
“Yoonie?” your soft voice snaps him back to reality, to find you blinking concernedly at him over your shoulder. “It's okay,” you assure, reaching your left hand back to lay on his thigh and rub soothingly. “Really, don't look so scared, I'm not mad.”
“I fucking bit you!” he squeaks. “You're bleeding!”
“Yes, I see,” you muse, gaze dropping to his lips pointedly. He quickly rubs his hand over his mouth roughly to remove the blood. “I'm not new to bleeding during sex.”
He opens his mouth to respond, once again planning to berate himself, but then he registers your words and blinks dumbly at you. “What?”
“I have experimented a lot, Yoon, and not always with the best people to try potentially dangerous things with.”
He sighs your name out worriedly. “Please don't tell me you've let someone hold a knife to your skin during sex. I know you joked about it before, but I seriously thought it was just a joke.”
“I haven't,” you assure before grinning a little awkwardly. “Yet.”
“I'm not letting you do knife play with some asshole, don't be ridiculous.”
“You're not an asshole.”
He blinks at you a few times. “Me?” You hum in confirmation. “You want me to put a knife to your skin?”
“I want to try it, and you're the only person I trust like that.” You shrug and turn your head back away, both because the angle is hurting your neck, and because you suddenly feel honestly kind of like a freak for even suggesting it. Knife play is no joke and something most people don't even know exists, and even fewer actually think is a good idea. “I'll forget about it, you seem scared enough just biting me hard enough to draw blood, it was stupid to suggest.”
“Wait, wait, wait,” he huffs, and shuffles backwards to create the space to turn you onto your back so that you can look at one another. “I don't want you to feel bad, that's not a look I see on you, stop it.”
“It was stupid to suggest though.” You frown. “I'm sorry-”
“No, stop, it-” He takes a breath, and then drops down onto his back beside you as he only now realises how much his right shoulder hurts. He reaches up to rub it, only for you to roll over and bat his hand away so that you can massage it yourself.
Yoongi watches your concentration for a few minutes with a fond smile before he reaches out to tilt your face to him and leans up to gently kiss you. You hum, surprised but very pleased and kiss him back, leaning forward so that he can lower back onto the pillow and not hurt his neck.
When you pull apart, he keeps his hand on your cheek and strokes his thumb over your skin softly. “I was scared that I hurt you; I didn't mean to, and it scared me how easily I could accidentally do serious damage if I'm not careful.” You make a noise of understanding. “But I was also scared that I liked it.” Your eyebrows lift in genuine surprise. “I saw what I had done and I fucking- I liked it. Like, it turned me on a little.”
“Really?” He nods. Despite the conversation, the way your eyes light up with joy and excitement makes him chuckle fondly. “So, would you consider knife play?”
“I... I think I can consider it, yeah,” he confirms, earning a bright smile, followed by a very thorough kiss.
You can't say for sure what your future relationship with Yoongi holds, but you're real fucking excited to find out.
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