Long stories came back!! It has been a long time since I have written any long fics. Welcome anyone who wants to join the tag list, feel free to send me a message / comment to join.
Main master list
3/10: Woosan – The abandoned factory pt.2
-Outlaw WooSan x Cop Reader
-Part 1 in Wattpad
Summary: You tracked down the signal on the ring which was stolen by the infamous duo, 'The Fox' and 'The Hound'. But little did you know, that was a trap.
6/10: CS – Punish
-Husband San x Wife Reader
-Part 2 of Make it quick
Summary: after your daughter was born, your husband paid all his attention to her and ignored you for a while. So, you decided to give him a punishment….it's just turned out to be yours.
9/10: YH – Caught in a lie
-Academic rival Yunho x Reader
-Part 2 of In the library
Summary: You'd always been a good student, hadn't you? But that day in the library, in the empty locker room, everything changed. No matter how many lies you told, trying to convince yourself it was just a physical reaction, not emotion or lust. But still, you let Yunho ruin you, willingly.
12/10: JH – Cannot Stop Thinking When I First Saw you (on 11/10 00:00 KST)
(Happy Birthday to our Jongho)
-Dom! Pervert Boss! Jongho x Sub! Pervert Secretary! Reader
Summary: You shouldn't fall in love with him, but you crave him, surrender to him, and allow him to break you like a toy.
15/10: YS – Dear, Deer
-Deer Hybrid Exchange student Yeosang x Deer Hybrid Reader
Summary: You're not really into love and don't want to casually hook up. But, you still use pheromone perfume to draw in hybrids because your friend asked you to. You ended up being an assistant to the exchange student, which is how you met him - the guy who made you fall head over heels at first sight, Yeosang.
18/10: HJ – One bed
-Special Squad Leader Hongjoong x Special Team member Reader ft. Seonghwa and Wooyoung
Summary: 4 people but only 2 beds? God damn it…
21/10: SH – Seonghwa and his little monster
-Hunter Seonghwa x Little monster Reader
A little series: 1. Take you in, 2. Trigger of heat, 3. Feeding, 4. First shower, 5. A trouble brat
24/10: OT8 – Kiss your friend challenge (Headcanons)
-OT8 x 9th member F!reader
-9th member AU
Summary: You've had a crush on them for a long time but never had the guts to say anything. Then one day, you come across a TikTok challenge — kiss your best friend. You set up the camera and pretend you're going to film a reel with them. And then... you lean in…
27/10: MG – Favourite Tea
-Alpha Mingi x Omega Reader
-Part 2 of breeding
Summary: How to comfort a grumpy alpha? Fetch a tea? No. It's your jui**
(tag list: welcome to join :) comment down or send me a msg)
Because even after countless mood swings, my crazy demands, and my stupid arguments, he never gives up on me.
ᴀꜰᴛᴇʀ ᴀʀɢᴜᴍᴇɴᴛ
Summary: You accidentally piss him off. Oops…
ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ɪᴛ Qᴜɪᴄᴋ
Summary: You were sprawled on the bed, watching your husband get ready for his meeting, and you just couldn't keep your hands to yourself. That's when San decided it was time to teach you a lesson.
ᴘᴜɴɪꜱʜ
Summary: after your daughter was born, your husband paid all his attention to her and ignored you for a while. So, you decided to give him a punishment….it's just turned out to be yours.
It has been an hour since you both had a childish argument. Neither of you remembered the reasons though. San was still mad anyway. Once, he was the type to apologize first, his lips forming a pout as he whispered sweet nothings like, "I'm sorry~", doing everything in his power to win back your forgiveness. But this time, he remained silent.
Instead, he sprawled on the sofa, scrolling his phone, not sparing you a single glance. But how could you endure this torture while you two biascally clinging to each other every few minutes?
Ugh. It felt as though you were suffering from a skin ailment, and only his touch could ease the discomfort. You tried to call out his name gently, but he merely responded with "What?" devoid of any of the warmth he once showed.
"Sannie~? Don't ignore me~" You climbed onto the sofa, resting your head next to him.
San rolled his eyes and set his phone down on his thighs. He looked over at you, crossing his arms over his chest. He was not in the mood for your games.
"Well maybe you should have thought about it before the argument."
"Hm~Don't be mad." You tilted your head like a puppy, aware that San always adored your cute antics. But San merely shot you a look, not smiling like the fool he usually was. Okay. If it is not gonna work, then let's use plan B.
Your hand found their way to your back, hooking the clip of the bra and giving it a small tug, leaving the underband hanging on either side. Pulling up the T-shirt, you turned around to show your bare back. "Sannie~ Can you help me to clasp the bra?"
He let out a sigh, fully aware of your effort, yet he still took hold of the strap and secured it at the back for you. After completing the task, he withdrew his hand, lifted the phone from his lap, and resumed scrolling through it.
…The hell? Only this? Nothing more??
You blinked, stunned, as San's thumb swiped idly across his screen like he'd just handed you a glass of water instead of touching your bare skin. Your pulse fluttered—not just from the tease, but from the indifference. It was like watching a monk resist temptation, and damn it, you weren't used to being resisted. Especially not by him.
You sat up slowly, the fabric of your T-shirt falling back into place, and studied him. It was impossible for him to stay calm and act nothing when he touched your bare skin. He must be covering up the desire with his expressionless face.
A dangerous spark lit behind your ribs—half frustration, half thrill. Fine. If he wanted to play this game, you'd raise the stakes.
With deliberate slowness, you stretched, arching your back like a cat, then reached for the hem of your shirt again. This time, you tugged it over your head in one smooth motion, leaving you in nothing but the re-clasped bra and soft cotton shorts. The room was warm, but you shivered on purpose, glancing at him through your lashes.
San didn't even flinch.
His eyes stayed glued to his phone, jaw set, thumb flicking past stories with mechanical precision. But you knew him better than that. The muscle twitching in his temple, the way his fingers tightened around the device—oh, he was not as unaffected as he pretended.
You shifted closer, your knee brushing his thigh as you folded yourself against the armrest, deliberately in his line of sight. "Hmm… Maybe I should just take this off too if it's bothering me so much." Your fingers trailed over the bra strap, tracing the edge with exaggerated contemplation.
San exhaled sharply through his nose, grip tightening on his phone.
Got you.
"You know…" You leaned in, voice a whisper, lips dangerously close to his earlobe. "I might've overreacted earlier."
His breath hitched—so slight you'd have missed it if you weren't pressed close. But still, he resisted.
"Might've?" he muttered, side-eyeing you with feigned disinterest.
You hummed in agreement, letting your hand rest on his knee, fingers drawing absent circles. "Yeah… But now I'm so cold." A blatant lie—the flush creeping up his neck betrayed how warm the room really was. "And you're being so mean to me, Sannie." You pouted, shifting just enough for the fabric of your shorts to ride up.
He swallowed hard, Adam's apple bobbing. Your grin turned feline. Victory was so close you could taste it.
Then, without warning, San locked his phone, dropped it onto the couch, and in one fluid motion, hauled you into his lap.
"You think that's funny?"
The sudden shift—from icy indifference to scorching possession—sent a jolt of triumph straight to your core. But you weren't done teasing. Feigning innocence, you batted your lashes. "What? I'm just trying to fix my clothes—"
His grip tightened. "Bullshit." The word was a growl, rough with restraint. "You've been playing with me for twenty minutes."
"And you let me."
San's nostrils flared. For a heartbeat, you swore he'd toss you off the couch just to prove a point. But then his hands slid up your bare back, fingers deftly unhooking the bra you'd so dramatically struggled with earlier. The fabric loosened, straps slipping down your shoulders.
"Ah—" Your breath hitched as his palms splayed over your spine, warm and demanding.
"Cold, huh?" he taunted, voice dripping with sarcasm. His thumbs brushed the sides of your ribs, agonizingly slow. "Funny. You feel fucking burning."
You squirmed, but he held you firm, lips ghosting over your collarbone. "Thought you weren't in the mood for my games, Sannie~"
A low chuckle rumbled in his chest. "Changed my mind." In one swift move, he flipped you onto your back, pinning your wrists above your head. His knee nudged your thighs apart, the friction deliberate. "Now you," he murmured, leaning down until his lips hovered over yours, "apologize properly."
"Make me."
"Gladly."
His mouth crashed onto yours, swallowing your gasp. It wasn't the sweet, forgiving kisses he usually gave—it was heat and teeth and retaliation. His free hand slid under your hips, lifting you against him until the thin fabric of your shorts did nothing to hide how affected he was.
San devoured you like he'd been starving, like every second of silence, every ignored plea, had been banked into this single, incendiary moment. His teeth caught your lower lip, just shy of pain, and you arched up into him, a moan trapped between your mouths. The weight of his body pressed you deep into the cushions, his thigh a hot brand between your legs, and you could feel the raw tension in his arms—the way he held back even now, even as he broke every rule he'd set for himself.
"You started this," he growled against your mouth, breaking away only to trail his lips down your jaw, your neck, the curve of your shoulder. "You think I don't know what you were doing? Walking around half-naked, rubbing against me like I'm just supposed to sit here and—" He bit down lightly on your collarbone, and you gasped, writhing beneath him. "---like I'm made of stone?"
"Maybe I wanted to find out," you purred, tilting your head to give him better access, your fingers twisting in the fabric of his shirt. "Maybe I wanted to see how long it would take before you cracked."
He lifted his head, meeting your gaze with his dark one. "You little menace," he murmured, but there was no real anger in it–only heat, only hunger. "Seems I gotta remind you who's in charge here."
All of sudden, he slapped his clothed hips against your core, colliding his rock hard cock right on the dent of your panties. The impact jolted through you like an electric current—sharp, unexpected, deliciously crude. Your breath punched out in a startled gasp, hips arching instinctively into his, chasing the friction even as your brain scrambled to process what had just happened.
He slightly pulled away—the fabric of his pants straining against his arousal. You could see the outline of every hard ridge, the way the tip peeked above the waistband. He was clearly more than ready for you, but he was not giving in just yet.
"S-Sannie—" you stammered, voice trembling, pupils blown wide with shock and arousal.
He didn't let you finish. One hand still held both your wrists captive above your head, the other now gripped your thigh hard enough to bruise, hiking your leg higher over his hip, spreading you open to the full press of his body. His breath was ragged against your neck, hot and uneven, and when he spoke, it was low, dark, vibrating with a growl from deep in his chest.
"You wanted to see how long I'd last?" He rolled his hips forward again, slow this time—torturously slow—letting every inch of rigid length drag along the swollen, sensitive seam of you. "You wanted to test me?" Another roll, deeper, harder. Your back bowed off the sofa. "Well, baby, you're fucking finding out."
"M-Maybe I did," you managed, voice breaking as he ground down again, the rough denim of his jeans scraping deliciously over your core. "Maybe I knew… you'd break first."
His eyes flashed.
"You broke first," he corrected, lowering his mouth to your ear, teeth grazing the lobe. "Every time you touched yourself, every time you leaned into me—you were begging. And don't pretend you weren't." He shifted, one hand releasing your wrist just long enough to drag his fingers down your stomach, under the waistband of your shorts, past the lace of your panties—until he found you, slick and throbbing. "This is what you wanted. You wanted me to lose control. Well, guess what?"
"—I let you win."
You gasped, clutching at his shoulders, nails digging in. "You—you bastard!"
"You know me well."
Instead of thrusting in his fingers, he tugged the waistband of the panties to make the fabric press firmly on your clit, slipping inside the fold. A ragged cry tore from your throat as the sudden, direct pressure on your clit sent a shockwave of pure, undiluted pleasure through you. Your hips bucked wildly, but he held you down, his body an immovable weight.
"You're so wet for me," he rasped, his voice gravelly with a mix of awe and savage satisfaction. He shifted the fabric minutely, a tiny, circular rub that made you see stars. "And I guess that tastes good, hm?" His lips went downwards, pecking every inch of your skin before licking a slow stripe up your center, sealing his lips around that throbbing little bud.
"Fuck—San—" When you whimpered? He only sucked harder.
"It tastes even sweeter than I imagined," He rasped between the ruthless flicks of his tongue. "Time to have a meal, isn't it?" Clenching his fingers around the fabric, he yanked them back to give himself enough space to bury his head between your thighs. Dragging his hot, wet tongue up your slit in one long, filthy lick before swirling it around your clit—slow and teasing at first, then faster as he felt you writhed beneath him. His hands pinned your hips down when you tried to buck against his mouth.
"None of that," he growled, "You'll take what I give you and say thank you when you're totally ruined." Then he sealed his lips over that swollen nub and sucked hard—just the way he knew would make you scream.
His right hand, which had been pinning your hip, slid upward, rough calluses scraping deliciously against the soft skin of your stomach. He didn't stop until his palm was cupping your breast, his thumb finding your nipple through the thin fabric of your bra. He pinched, rolling the hardened peak between his fingers, and the dual assault—his mouth on your clit, his hand on your breast—threatened to shatter you completely.
But that was not enough. He loosened your soaking wet panties, which had lost their elasticity, then traced the outline of your reddened slit with his thumb, pressed it against your gaping, dripping hole, and finally split your fold in half by thrusting in his fingers. A guttural, broken sound was torn from your throat, half-scream, half-sob, as San pushed his tongue deep into your pussy, sliding it in and out like a small cock.
It was his very first time to fuck you with his tongue. And oh god. It felt so good, so perfect. Your fingers intertwined the locks of his hair, pulling him closer and deeper to urge him to hit your G spot.
But of course, he won't give you what you want easily. Just when you thought you couldn't take anymore, when the coil of pleasure in your belly tightened to a near-painful degree, he would pull back, blowing a cool stream of air across your soaked, oversensitive flesh, only to dive back in with renewed fervor.
"S-San… please…" you begged, the words a shattered mess. You didn't even know what you were begging for—more, less, for him to never stop, for him to end the sweet torment.
"Please huh? You'll have to be specific." He returned back to your inner thigh, giving it a soft bite to see you squirm. "Or I stop."
"Please more…fuck me harder…please…"
"Since you ask so nicely…" He smiled, before diving back in, faster now, tongue circling your clit in tight, maddening spirals before plunging deep inside you. You screamed, back arching, fingers clawing at the cushions. He didn't stop, not even when you sobbed his name, not even when your legs trembled around his head.
With one final, brutal suck that sent a blinding white flash behind your eyelids, he pulled away. You whimpered at the loss, your body convulsing with the sudden absence of his mouth, your eyes flying open.
"Don't—don't stop—"
He rose above you, his face glistening with your arousal, his eyes black pools of pure lust. "I didn't say you could come yet."
"No…please…San…!"
His grin was pure wickedness as he dragged his fingers out from your cunt at the last possible second—leaving you clenching around nothing, your body teetering on the edge of release. He brought those glistening digits to his lips, eagerly lapped them up. "Mmm…delicious…but you know what's even sweeter?"
His hands moved to the waistband of his jeans, fingers deftly undoing the button, then the zipper, the sound obscenely loud in the charged silence between your ragged breaths. You watched, hypnotized, as he shoved the denim down just enough to free himself—thick, flushed, and already glistening at the tip from the way he'd been grinding against you earlier.
"You," he growled, aligning himself with your entrance in one slow stroke. The thick length of him sprung against your stomach, hot and heavy as he dragged the tip through the slickness between your thighs. The broad head of his cock caught on your swollen, dripping folds, teasing for just a heartbeat before he pressed forward—just enough to make you gasp, to make your nails dig into his shoulders.
"But I guess you gotta say sorry first". "Or—" Thrust. "—I." Thrust. "Will—" Thrust. "Make—" Thrust. "You." Thrust.
You could only cling to him, your own hips meeting him with equal fervor, "San…!"
Grinding the thickest part of him inside you as he licked the column of your throat. "Be a good girl and don't push me, doll." Another sharp thrust punctuated the taut, "You haven't even seen what I can do yet." His hand slid between you both, thumb swiped through the wetness before pressing hard against your clit, circling in rough strokes as his thrusts turned erratic.
"Fuck—San, just—"
"Just what?" His voice was rough, taunting, even as his hips jerked forward another inch, stretching you impossibly wider. "You want me to stop?" Again, he withdrew his cock, leaving your hole empty, drawing a soft whimper from your lips. He grabbed the base of himself roughly, giving a few fast strokes just to watch how you clench around nothing.
"Fuck.." he scoffed, "Look at that greedy cunt…already missing me."
"San…fuck me….please."
"Then say it." He stilled completely, his fingers tightening on your hips. "Apologise properly or I fuck the brat out of you."
"Sorry…I'm sorry—"
"Tch…good girl." Slamming back into you in one brutal thrust, he buried himself to the hilt, perfectly hitting the sweet spot that made you scream. "Should make you beg for it like this every time. Now be my good girl and apologise one more time."
"I'm—ah!—I'm sorry!" you gasped, body tightening around him. He pulled back, then thrust again—hard, fast, perfect. You cried out, nails scraping down his back, and he did it again, setting a brutal pace that left you breathless, mindless, his. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry—"
"You should do it earlier, babe. It's not that hard, right?" He chuckled, "But now that you're finally playing nice..." His voice was a dark rasp, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips as he tilted you just enough to sink even deeper. The angle was merciless—every thrust dragged his cock against that perfect, aching spot inside you, his pelvis grinding against your clit with each movement.
You sobbed, arching helplessly against him, your body strung tight between pleasure and punishment. "Feel that? That's what happens when you behave." He suddenly straightened himself, hooking one of your legs on his shoulder to allow him fuck you deeper. One hand locked around your throat while the other pulled your wrist down to where his cock was splitting you open.
"That's how deep I'll put it when I fill this greedy cunt up." His teeth found your calves as he swayed his hips in a steady, rough pace. "Gonna pump so much cum in here it leaks out for days…to remind you I own your cunt. Mark my word."
Everything was unraveling fast, the coil of pleasure in your abdomen tightening to a breaking point. Your nails scraped down his back, earning a sharp, approving groan from him. The room was filled with the sounds of your coupling: skin slapping against skin, his ragged grunts, your breathy, pleading moans.
You were close again, trembling on the edge, but he knew. Of course he fucking knew. With a rough chuckle, he slowed, dragging his cock almost all the way out before sinking back in, torturously slow, drawing a broken whimper tore from your lips.
"Ah-ah," he tutted, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your calves. "Not yet."
You clenched around him, your body desperate for release, but he just smirked, adjusting his angle so the next thrust was shallow, teasing, just the tip pressing against that swollen, sensitive spot inside you.
"San—!"
"You wanna come?" He nipped at your inner thigh, "Then fucking beg for it."
Of course you did. Because how could you not, when he had you like this—pinned, owned, unraveling beneath him. And then his hand was between your legs, thumb pressing hard against your clit as he finally, finally gave you what you needed—one deep, punishing thrust and the coiled tension inside you snapped.
Feeling you clench around him was his undoing. He roared—his entire body tensing like a bowstring as he slammed into you one last, punishing time. Hot stripes of cum painted your walls in thick, possessive spurts—each pulse timed with a guttural groan against your throat. His hand stayed clamped on yours between your bodies, forcing you to feel every single drop as it spilled inside where it belonged.
"My god…" San panted harshly against sweat-damp skin when he finally stilled deep within you—his cock twitching weakly through the aftershocks while his grip on you remained ironclad: "Fuck—fuck, you're milking me so damn good….milk every last drop out of my cock." His hips gave another slow grind forward just because watching how tight you still felt around swollen dick was too good not to indulge one more time.
"Damn…you cum too much…"
"Oh?Now you complain?" He leaned down to peck your lips. "We're not done yet, darling."
—----
"Agh—!" The sharp crack of his palm against your already sore ass made you jolt forward—only for the belt around your wrists to yank you back against him with a growl. "Hold still, darling. I'm reading the documents."
Now you were sitting on his cock, your upper body was lying face down on the table, both wrists were tied behind your back, holding the folder while San was reading carefully, his cock twitching inside you each time he adjusted the position. The hot, white sperm oozed from where your cunt wrapped around his cock, soaking the expensive carpet underneath.
"Tsk…Tsk…darling. You've dirtied the carpet again~ Seems I gotta teach your cunt how to swallow all my cum." Another slap landed—the sound echoing off the walls while his free hand slid between your legs to rub a rough circle over where he'd just struck, a beautiful moaning left your mouth. "Count'em for me, baby girl. How many times do I have to spank you before my slut remembers who owns her?"
A sharp slap combined with a thrust made you scream the number out. "One...!!"
"Two," San corrected with a chuckle. "And don't forget to say please…" His palm came down again—harder this time—forcing a ragged gasp from you before murmuring: "That's the consequence you piss me off. Remember, don't do it next time, love."
Hmm…you don't know if you should do it one more time now.
tag list: @angelsaway, @yeosangcutie0615, @monsta-x-jagi, @sunnysidesins, @xidkkk, @vtyb23 @life-is-a-game-of-thrones
Yes, between your thighs. Face pressed right against your clothed cunt, thigh fat squishing around his head.
Ghost will nuzzle against you, inhale sleepily and when you mutter about him being weird his only reply is "smells like home, love."
Sure, sometimes he really does eat you out for hours, but other times he snuggles up and passes out. Ghost keeps his arms slung around your torso, thighs over his shoulder, to make sure you don't move away from him while he sleeps.
Yes, he could cuddle like a normal person, but this is so much better. He's a little bit obsessed.
Which means when soap visits for the holidays, ghost refuses to give up his favourite nap spot. He doesn't care if soap is sitting on the other couch, or that you squeak indignantly, ghost is too busy pressing his face between your legs with a heavy sigh.
"Simon! Soap's right there!" You hiss, face burning. Ghost just peels an eye open, glancing up with the rest of his face tucked down and looks between you and soap.
"He doesn't care, love." He finally assures, closing his eyes again "you don't care, do you johnny?"
"...honestly ahm' kind of jealous..." soap mutters, blushing too. He's staring at the way ghost breathes you in, then tosses a hopeful glance to you.
"No. Absolutely not." You deadpan, absently reaching down to scratch ghosts head.
Ghost laughs, the sound muffled against you, obviously pleased. Soap flips him off, then gets up "fine, ye fuckin' cunts." He intentionally nudges ghosts knee on the way out.
"...he's gonna go jerk off in our guest room." You comment, surprised to find you kind of like the idea.
"Try our room, love." Ghost snorts, then laughs when he can literally smell how wet you get at the idea.
Caught in a Lie is so good!!! You write so well, we need another part (Maybe one where yunho's the one who gets jealous and they put a label on it already 😻)
Sorry for the late reply, my mind was a bit scattered. I've been thinking about what to write, and now!! I'm finally done~
ʏʜ|[ᴍ]|ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴡʜᴀᴛ'ꜱ ᴍɪɴᴇ
YH|[M]|Take back what's mine
Yunho x Female Reader
Part 1 in the library|Part 2 Caught in a lie
Warning: Smut|Long story|Jealous Yunho
Word count: 6.4K
Summary: Yunho knew it's time to claim you his. Or else, you would be stolen.
"God damn it…you're such a mess." Yunho's chest raised up and down as he was panting heavily, a thin layer of sweat on his body glimmering under the evening's sunlight. His semi-hard cock bounced out as he left your swollen hole, oozing thick, rope-shaped sperm mixed with your arousal.
Oh, he loved it.
He loved how your cunt was only full of his seed, loved how your body was covered in his marks, loved how you were his. But no misunderstanding. He and you were only friends with benefits or more correctly, enemies with benefits. Nothing more. Nothing less.
Right?
"You good?"
"Yeah…yeah…" You gasped softly, the words barely a whisper, a pathetic little sound that made a fresh wave of heat pool low in his belly.
A low, dark chuckle rumbled in Yunho's chest. He leaned over you, his shadow swallowing you whole, his knuckles brushing a stray strand of hair from your forehead.
"'Yeah' doesn't sound very convincing," he murmured, his voice a rough caress. His thumb, calloused and demanding, swept over your bottom lip, tugging it down slightly. "Look at you. Completely ruined. How pretty."
"That's on you."
The corner of his mouth quirked. "Damn right it is," he breathed, "and you love it."
"Shut up." You couldn't help but roll your eyes. He was telling the truth though.
"Okay, okay. Or else my princess will be angry." Yunho chuckled again, pressing his lips on your cheek to give you a kiss as if a boyfriend, and he finally pushed himself away completely. The shift in temperature was immediate, leaving you feeling exposed and strangely bereft. He reached for a discarded towel on the floor, beginning to clean the mess between your thighs.
"You okay, really?" he asked again, his voice softer this time. You nodded, pushing yourself up to let him clean more conveniently. "Just… tired." A small lie, but the truth felt too complicated to say right now. You watch him retrieving both of your clothes from where they were scattered and beginning to help you dress. The silence stretched between you, thick with unspoken questions. He was gentle, caring, and it was this jarring contradiction that always left you reeling. The man who fucked you stupid with raw hunger was the same one who now fastened the buttons of your shirt. His knuckles ghosted over your skin, a feather-light touch that was somehow more intimate than anything that had come before.
Thoughts that shouldn't be there surfacing in your mind–-dangerous and primal—you were starting to crave his tenderness more than the thrilling chaos he usually offered. You wanted to hold his hand, wanted to kiss him in front of others to show he's off limits. You wanted to tell him that. You wanted to shatter the carefully constructed walls of your arrangement with the wrecking ball of your burgeoning feelings. But the words caught in your throat, a tangled mess of fear and longing. What if he laughed? What if he pushed you away, disgusted by the very tenderness he had just shown? The risk was too great.
He finished the last button, his hand resting for a long moment over your heart. You could feel the warmth of his palm through the thin fabric. "You're staring," he said, "What are you thinking about?"
You forced a smile. "That you're going to be late for whatever you have planned after this." It was a deflection, a reminder of the rules. They didn't have plans that involved each other beyond these four walls.
A flicker of something—disappointment? resignation?—crossed his features before he masked it with his usual smirk. "Always eager to get rid of me." He didn't move his hand. "Or maybe you just want the bed to yourself."
Before you could say a word, the sharp buzz of his phone on the nightstand sliced through the quiet. Yunho snatched the phone, his eyes scanning the screen before he answered, his voice annoying but calm. "What is it?"
He listened, his posture stiffening. "Yah…yah…I didn't forget the extra training…No, I'm on my way now. I'll be there in 10."
He hung up, tossing the phone onto the mattress and moving to pull on his own sports shirt. He didn't look at you, didn't seem to see you at all anymore. You were just a piece of the room's furniture.
"I've got to go," he said, grabbing his jacket and walking to the door, pausing with his hand on the knob.
"Oh hey remember—"
"Remember to leave quietly, and don't let anyone see me leave your room. You'd repeated so many times, Jeong Yunho."
"Yah, yah. Just a friendly reminder. Smartass."
Yunho's hand finally turned the knob. The casual indifference was back, layered thick over the recent intimacy. He was already gone, mentally, halfway to his training session.
"Don't look so pouty," he added, glancing back over his shoulder, his eyes hard and knowing. "You know the deal."
The deal. A flimsy, barbed-wire fence they built to protect themselves from connection, but which only served to scrape the narrator raw every time the door slammed shut.
"I know the deal," you repeated.
"Then why that face? Miss me already?"
"Wh–what? Don't be ridiculous….!"
"Fine. Keep acting like that." Before he could twist the knob, you stopped him. "Wait–"
"What?"
"Hm…are…are you going to the Valentine's Day event next week? The school's putting on a dance." You tried to sound casual, but a flutter of hope stirred in your chest. Maybe, just maybe, he'd suggest going with you, even if it was just as a joke.
"Valentine's Day?" he scoffed, his voice laced with disdain. "That's for suckers. All that fake romance and sickly sweet chocolate. Nah, count me out. Too boring." He paused, looking at you with a raised eyebrow. "Why? Were you planning on getting some cheesy bouquet?"
A wave of disappointment washed over you, cold and sharp. You tried to hide it, forcing a shrug. "No, just curious. Some people find it… romantic, I guess." You tried to mask the sting in your voice, but the words felt hollow. You had, for a foolish moment, hoped for something more, something slightly less… transactional. It felt silly, childish, to yearn for a normal, romantic gesture when your relationship with him was anything but.
"Romantic," he repeated, a cynical twist to his lips. "Give me a break. Real romance isn't about some forced holiday, doll. It's about… other things." He didn't elaborate, just gave you a look that clearly referred to their "playtime" sessions, and it stinged. Did he mean that all you had between you was sex only?
"Alright, I gotta go." Yunho's smirk returned, a perfect, unreadable mask. "Bye." He opened the door, slipped through the gap, and then, with a soft, decisive click, the lock engaged, sealing the room and shutting you out of his life once more.
The silence that descended was heavier than before, broken only by the faint thrum of your own heartbeat and the lingering scent of his cologne. Each touch, each word, replaying in your mind, as if a siren's song to pull you into a whirlpool called love. And then, he snapped you back to reality, breaking your fragile hope with a scoff. "That's for suckers," he'd said, his words sharp and dismissive.
You traced the faint red mark on your collarbone, a phantom sensation of his lips lingering. Was that all this was? A convenience? A release? The thought gnawed at you. You'd built your own flimsy defenses too, telling yourself it was just sex, just a way to scratch an itch. It's just you found yourself wanting more, wanting the impossible.
A sigh escaped your lips, a soft sound lost in the plush quiet of your room.
You didn't sleep the whole night.
—-
Days passed by as if nothing had happened, as if those words had never left his lips. To the outside world, you remained rivals—fiercely competitive in tests, relentlessly challenging each other's ideas in a debate, the air thick with barely suppressed conflict. But it was all acting, a complete pretense, to cover up the awkwardness between you two, to cover up the fact he brought you to orgasm in the library with his fingers.
It was just your relationship that remained rooted in primal desires.
Nothing more. Nothing less.
But you caught yourself watching Yunho more often than not, a dangerous habit. In class, during lunch, even across the quad where he'd be laughing loudly with his friends – a laugh that never quite reached his eyes the way it did when he was teasing you, his face inches from yours, his breath on your neck. It was a subtle difference, one only you seemed to notice, and it was a thread you clung to, flimsy as it was.
The college was quickly being consumed by a sickly-sweet pink and red haze. Construction paper hearts plastered posters for the Valentine's dance. Florists were already taking pre-orders, and hushed conversations about secret admirers buzzed through the hallways.
Every other student seemed to be clutching a rose or a box of chocolates. You tried to act nonchalant, burying yourself in a textbook during lunch, but the pervasive romantic air pricked at your composure. You saw Yunho briefly in the main hall. He caught your eye, offering a fleeting, almost unnoticeable nod, before melting into the crowd of jocks, seemingly unaffected by the saccharine atmosphere. Your heart sank a little further—
"Hey, Y/N! Did you hear me??" Your best friend Lia snapped your back.
"Ohhh…huh? What?"
"I said, are you going to the dance?"
"Dan–Dance?" You instinctively looked towards Yunho, wishing he would ask you to dance. However, he merely cast a brief glance in your direction before turning away, displaying no interest in the dance and remaining indifferent to your feelings of disappointment.
"Yes!I heard they're going all out this year. Maybe your secret admirer will finally make a move!" Lia said happily, not noticing the hope in your eyes fade.
You forced a laugh, a dry, brittle sound. "Secret admirer? Please. I'd rather spend my Valentine's Day catching up on sleep than watching everyone else pretend to be in love." It was a lie, of course. You wanted to be in love. You wanted to be loved by Yunho.
"Awwww don't be a party popper. You know who'll be there?"
"Who?"
"It's Jung Wooyoung!!"
"Wooyoung?" You blinked, the name pulling you further from your Yunho-induced reverie. Little did you know, Yunho immediately looked in your direction after he heard this name also.
"Yes. The golden boy, remember?" Lia beamed. "He's back from his semester abroad. He's going to be there, and you know how he is. He'll probably ask everyone to dance, including you!" She nudged your arm playfully. "And he's always been a bit… sweet on you, hasn't he?"
Sweet on you? That Jung Wooyoung?? Yunho couldn't help but tighten the grip on his shirt. Ah, right. He remembered…that Jung Wooyoung had a crush on you before until he went to exchange for 3 months and now he was going to chase you back?
"hm…." You thought for a while, unable to notice how Yunho stomped her feet in anger. "Well…Wooyoung is…nice…," you conceded, a small smile finally touching your lips. "He is."
"Exactly!" Lia squealed, her eyes sparkling. "So, are we in? Come on, it'll be fun! Even if Yunho is there, you can ignore him and dance with Wooyoung all night."
The mention of Yunho sent a familiar jolt through you. Ignore him. It was a tempting proposition. To be seen, to be asked to dance by someone who wouldn't make your heart pound with a mixture of dread and dangerous exhilaration. Someone who wouldn't remind you of the stark reality of your relationship with Yunho.
Yet, Yunho stood framed in the doorway, his gaze landing on you again. It wasn't the usual challenging glare, but something softer, more… searching. And then, as quickly as it appeared, it was gone, replaced by his usual impassive mask as he turned and walked towards a table occupied by his friends, his laughter echoing through the space.
Lia, oblivious, continued her campaign. "So? Dance? With Wooyoung?"
You looked at the empty spot where Yunho had stood. A thought wormed its way in: what if Yunho noticed you dancing with Wooyoung? What if he cared? A dangerous, foolish hope flickered within you…maybe you should say yes?
"Alright," you said, the word coming out a little breathier than you intended. "Alright, Lia. I'll go."
"Yes! This is going to be amazing! We'll find you the perfect dress, and you and Wooyoung can dance the night away!"
You managed a small, tight smile, your gaze drifting involuntarily toward Yunho's table. He was laughing now, a boisterous sound that carried across the hall, throwing his head back in a way that made his dark hair fall across his forehead. He didn't look at you. Not even a glance. The brief, searching look from moments before felt like a figment of your imagination, a desperate conjuring of your own wishes. He was truly unaffected, wasn't he? Or was he just that good at hiding it? Either way, the decision was made.
The night of the dance arrived bathed in the soft, romantic glow of a thousand fairy lights strung across the gymnasium. The air hummed with pop music, nervous laughter, and the cloying scent of cheap perfume and blooming roses. You smoothed down the skirt of your dress—a deep, sapphire blue that Lia insisted brought out your eyes—and tried to calm the flutter in your stomach.
"Hey, Y/N!"
You looked up to see Wooyoung who was wearing a neat shirt, holding a single, perfect rose and smiling brightly.
"Happy Valentine's Day!" he said, extending the rose towards you. "This is for you. I was hoping to catch you."
"Oh, Wooyoung, thank you! It's beautiful," you stammered, taking the rose.
"Not as beautiful as you," he countered smoothly, his smile widening as he leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a playful whisper. "Long time no see huh?You look much prettier than before."
"Thanks…" You smiled shyly.
"You alone?No partner?" Wooyoung's question caused you to unintentionally look around, searching for Yunho's figure. But of course, he wasn't here. Why would he even care to show up in this boring ball?
"No partner," you replied, trying to sound nonchalant as you tightened the grip on the rose. "I came with Lia, but she seems to have been hijacked by those puddings."
Wooyoung's smile didn't falter. "Perfect. Then you can be my partner for the night." He gently took your hand, his touch warm and pleasant, and led you toward the edge of the crowded dance floor where a slow, swaying song had just begun. "Let's relax, hm? Let me care for you."
Lost in the moment, you didn't notice your phone constantly popping up with multiple message notifications in your skirt pocket—-
"Tch. Why isn't she replying?!" Yunho paid no attention to the game, staring menacingly at the brightly lit screen. He wasn't responding to the group messaging or the urgent reminder for tomorrow's training. His entire focus was the silence emanating from his phone.
"Playtime tonight?"
"I've bought a new toy, wanna try?"
"God. I need a fuck."
"You come? My place?"
"HEY, Y/N?"
"This is ridiculous," he snarled, stomping his feet angrily ."She always replies to me within a minute…tsk…" Yunho slammed his phone onto his bed, the device bouncing slightly before settling. His friends' messages buzzed on the screen, a flurry of texts about their gaming session, but he didn't even glance at them. His mind was replaying the scene in the hall, the way you had smiled, that soft, genuine smile, when Lia mentioned Wooyoung's name. A smile that rarely surfaced when you were around him.
"Why isn't she replying?" he muttered again, pacing his room. The question sounded less like annoyance and more like a wound. "She's probably plotting something with that golden boy. A new strategy to beat me in the upcoming mock exams. Yes, that must be it." But the excuse felt thin, even to him. It didn't explain the twisting in his gut, the sharp, almost physical pang he felt at the thought of you dancing with someone else. Someone who was openly "sweet on you."
He imagined you now, under those sickly-sweet fairy lights, your blue dress shimmering, laughing up at Wooyoung. The thought sent a jolt of something raw and unwelcome through him – it wasn't jealousy, he told himself fiercely. It was… possessiveness. Possessiveness over his rival. Over the person whose every nerve he could uniquely fray, whose every secret glance he could interpret, whose body had responded to his touch in a way that screamed anything but rivalry.
Yunho finally stopped, staring at his reflection in the darkened window. "Ugh. God damn it. Fuck the ball." He suddenly grabbed his phone, dialing a number that was too familiar.
"Mingi, borrow me a suit ... Don't ask. I have something to do."
He needed to go. He needed to see. He needed to remind you who owns you.
—-----
The gentle rhythm of the music was a soft embrace, and for the first time all night, the tightness in your chest began to ease. Wooyoung's hand rested lightly on your lower back, guiding you through the simple steps of the slow dance.
"So," Wooyoung murmured, leaning closer, "no late-night study sessions tonight, Y/N? I figured you'd be locked away somewhere surrounded by history textbooks."
You laughed softly, genuinely amused. "I gave myself the night off. Lia swore the world would end if I didn't experience one college dance properly."
"Lia is a wise woman," he agreed, pulling you just a fraction closer. The way he looked at you—openly admiring, without judgment or sharp edges—was intoxicatingly refreshing. "It's good to see you relax. You always look like you're waiting for the other shoe to drop."
The other shoe. You thought of Yunho, of his constant needling, his complicated, aggressive presence. With Wooyoung, there were no games, no secret codes to decipher. Just a warm hand and a bright smile. You were completely absorbed in the pleasant bubble of normalcy, your blue dress swishing around your knees. You were finally, completely, distracted.
The song came to the end, you two stopped dancing and bowed politely. The DJ cheered at this moment. "Now! It's time to choose the best couple tonight~~~" A collective murmur swept through the crowd as the announcement echoed through the gym and everyone else's eyes were on you and Wooyoung. After all, you two were a good match.
"Oh?The best couple? It must be—" Just as the words could come out from Wooyoung's lips, the atmosphere in the gymnasium suddenly fractured as the door swayed open with a loud pang.
You followed the line of sight, curiosity replacing your relaxed smile.
It was Yunho. The one who stood just inside the arched entryway.
He had arrived in haste. The dark suit he wore—Mingi's, likely—was too tight across his broad shoulders, pulling slightly at the buttons. His hair was ruffled, not styled, and his expression was a dark, thunderous mask of coiled intent. He looked less like a dance attendee and more like a predator who had tracked his prey to a crowded bar.
His gaze cut straight through the fairy lights, the milling students, and the pulsing speakers, locking onto you.
Wooyoung noticed the disturbance too, following your line of sight. "Whoa. Did someone forget to tell him this wasn't a funeral?" He murmured playfully, tightening the grip on your hand.
Yunho began to move. He didn't walk; he stalked. Every long stride was purposeful, cutting a straight line through the couples and the punch tables. Students instinctively parted around him, recognizing the raw, dangerous energy he radiated.
He stopped two feet in front of you, his shadow falling over Wooyoung's bright shirt. The contrast between the two boys—Wooyoung, charming, easy, and dressed for the evening; Yunho, intense, frantic, and dressed like he'd just robbed a bank for a formal—was shocking.
Yunho ignored Wooyoung entirely, his focus burning into your face, absorbing the subtle flush on your cheeks and the rose Wooyoung had given you, which you still clutched in your free hand.
"Y/N," Yunho's voice was low, rough, and laced with an impatience that brooked no argument. It sliced through the surrounding noise.
Wooyoung stepped forward slightly, putting himself between you and the intensity. "Can we help you, Yunho? We're kind of occupied."
Yunho finally shifted his eyes to Wooyoung, and the look he gave him was pure, casual dismissal, as if he were an irritating fly.
"She doesn't need your help," Yunho stated, not as a question, but as a command. He then addressed you again, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper that traveled only to your ears. "I need to talk to you. Now. It's important."
You swallowed, your heart slamming against your ribs. The easy relaxation you'd felt a moment ago disappeared, replaced by a terrible, familiar anxiety. "I'm busy, Yunho. I'm dancing."
"Yes and now it's the best couple election. Y/N is mine." Wooyoung snapped back.
Yunho didn't laugh, didn't argue, and didn't even raise his voice. He simply smiled—a cold, terrifying inflection of amusement—and his eyes solidified into chips of dark ice.
"Yours?" Yunho stepped closer, looming over Wooyoung with his shadow. The air crackled between them, the pop music fading into a distant, irrelevant hum. All you could hear was the ragged sound of your own breathing and the low, dangerous timbre of Yunho's voice.
"Is that what she told you?" Yunho's gaze never left Wooyoung's, but the question was a trap laid for you, a challenge. He finally deigned to look at the rose in your hand, his lip curling in a silent, devastating critique. "She didn't tell you she's already spoken for?"
Wooyoung, to his credit, held his ground, though his pleasant smile had finally vanished. "She's not a possession, Yunho. She's here with me."
Yunho let out a short, humorless laugh that was more like a puff of air. He finally turned his full attention back to you, lowering his body until his lips right next to your ear. "Five minutes…Or I start talking about what really happened in the library after hours. Loudly."
Your blood ran cold, your eyes widened. It was not only a threat, but also a promise. He would definitely do it if you dare not to listen to him.
You looked at Wooyoung, at his confused and now slightly hurt expression, and then back at Yunho, whose eyes promised a storm you weren't prepared to weather in public.
"I... I'm sorry, Wooyoung," you stammered, your voice barely a whisper. "I have to... I'll be right back."
Wooyoung's face fell, but he nodded, releasing your hand with a reluctant sigh. "I'll be here."
Yunho bypassed Wooyoung's protesting hand entirely and reached out, his long, powerful fingers closing around your left wrist in a grip that was instantly agonizingly firm. He didn't just hold you; he claimed you, pulling you abruptly and fiercely out of Wooyoung's space and into his own. Yunho turned and pulled you through the crowd after shooting Wooyoung a smug smile. He didn't stop until he'd shouldered open the door to the boys' locker room, a place that was dark, empty, and smelled faintly of bleach and sweat, a stark contrast to the perfumed ball.
He released you, and the door swung shut with a definitive click, muting the distant music. The only light came from the emergency exit sign.
"Alright," you said, crossing your arms, trying to muster the defiance that usually came so easily with him. "Talk. What's so important that you had to crash a dance and make a scene?"
"You weren't answering your phone."
"My phone? That's why you look like you're about to commit a murder? Because I didn't answer my phone?" A disbelieving laugh escaped you. "Since when do you care?"
"Since always!" The words exploded from him, raw and unchecked. Yunho stepped closer, his normal calm self already driven away by anger and jealousy. "You always answer. You always bite. You—" He cut himself off, taking a deep breath to force himself to calm down. "You don't get to just disappear. Not with him."
The possessiveness in his tone should have pissed you off. Instead, it sent a thrill down your spine. This wasn't that simple.
"Why?" You pressed. "Why does it matter to you who I dance with?"
Yunho was in front of you in two long strides, crowding you against a cold metal locker. His hands came up, caging you in, his face inches from yours. The scent of his cologne, something dark and clean, cut through the sterile air.
""Because you don't smile at him like that"
"Like what?"
"Like he's the only person in the room. Like he hung the damn fairy lights." His voice was rough with an emotion you couldn't name. "You save that for calculus tournaments and debates you're about to lose. You save it for... for me."
The confession hung in the air between you, shocking in its honesty. His words hit your heart, making it skip a beat. The hope reappeared again.
"You're insane," you breathed, but there was no heat left in it.
"Yeah," he agreed, his eyes dropping to your lips. "I am. And you're mine to drive insane. Not his."
He didn't wait for a reply. He closed the final distance between you, and his mouth crashed down on yours.
It wasn't a gentle, slow-dance kiss. It was a claim. All bite and suck. You gasped against his lips when his teeth grazed your bottom lip, a sharp sting followed by the soothing sweep of his tongue. One of his hands left the locker to fist in the blue fabric of your dress at your waist, pulling you flush against him, while the other came up to cup your jaw, holding you in place as he kissed you with an intensity that left no room for doubt.
"You know how much I love when you're naked? Just like a little slut for me to fuck dumb." A soft murmur sent a shiver down your spine before he swallowed your surprise gasp with another kiss. His fingers moved up to the zipper, pulling it down enough to slip his hand inside to squeeze the edge of your breast. His touch was rough but deliberate, mapping the curve of your breast like he was memorizing every inch of you.
"Yunho—" you managed between breaths, but he didn't relent. Instead, he pulled back enough to yank down your upper dress, revealing your hardened nipples. "Shhh…let me have a taste." Your protest died down as he cupped your breasts with his large hands, massaging them before ducking his head to take one stiff peak into his mouth.
A sharp gasp tore from your throat as his tongue flicked over your nipple, teasing it mercilessly before sucking hard enough to make your knees buckle. His hands steadied you, fingers digging into your hips as he switched to the other breast, lavishing the same rough attention on it. "You taste so damn good…so fucking sweet."
Your fingers tangled in his hair, torn between pushing him away and pulling him closer. "We—we can't—" you choked out, but Yunho ignored your half-hearted protest, nipping at your collarbone before capturing your lips again, swallowing your whimpers.
"Can't what?" A soft bite on your lips made you shut up. Although it was not painful, it reminded you he was in charge. "Can't take it?Can't do it?C'mon, princess. Your cunt is asking me to fill it up with my cock, isn't it?" His fingers slid along the curve of your chest, skimming the wet nipple before moving down, then tracing upward from the apex of your thighs, pushing forward to find the right spot.
"See? So wet for me…" His middle finger hooked up the wet., dented place of your panties, pressing his fingertips the right place on your clit, craving to be touched. A whimper tore from your throat and your vision briefly whited out. "Still say no to me, hm?" The fabric of your panties was pulling aside, a thin, slick liquid linking to the damp point. The cool air hitting your exposed flesh made you gasp.
His fingers returned, bare skin against bare skin this time. One fingertip traced your slick folds, gathering your arousal, the sensation so intense your back arched off the cold locker. A strangled whimper escaped you. His touch wasn't exploring; it was claiming territory he already knew. He circled your entrance, the lightest pressure making you gasp, then slid upwards, finding your swollen clit again. He pressed down, a deliberate, smearing motion that sent sparks behind your eyelids. He watched your face intently, mesmerized by every flinch, every gasp, every surrender.
Your head fell back against the locker with a soft thud, all coherent thought scattering. He never thrust in, ignoring the need of your weeping cunt, just applying an annoying force on the nerve of bud. Not hard enough to bring you over the edge;not so gentle as to extinguish your desire.
"Yunho….fuck me….stop teasing…"
"Oh?That's how you ask?" Yunho pulled out his fingers to make your body shake from a sudden emptiness. You arched against the cold metal, a wordless plea, but Yunho just watched you, his eyes dark with a predator's patience. He brought his glistening fingers to his own lips, never breaking eye contact, and sucked them clean with a low, appreciative hum that vibrated through the silence.
"You taste even better when you're begging," he murmured, the words a velvet threat. "But you didn't say please."
You hated him. You loved him. The two emotions were a tangled, inseparable knot in your chest, pulled taut by the throbbing need between your legs. "Please.."
"Please what?"
"I need you…Yunho…"
"Where? Hm? What do you need from me? More specific, darling."
"Your cock…your cum…"
"That's my girl."
His hands were at his belt, the rasp of the leather and the clink of the buckle impossibly loud. He freed himself, and the sight of him, hard and demanding, made your mouth go dry. He didn't bother with your panties, just hooked a finger in the side and tore the delicate lace with a sharp, efficient sound that made you jolt.
"See something you like?" Yunho smirked. The slick pre-cum at the top of the cockhead glimmering under the dim light of the Exit. Yunho slowly rolled his hips towards your stomach, nudging his leaking, bulbous tip against your stomach, moving along the curve to leave a path of pre-cum on your skin before dragging back to your gaping hole, watching your gaze follow the move of his cock, silently asking for a fuck. "Your cunt aches for me. Even now, it's clenching like it's already full of my cock."
You swallowed hard, throat dry, heart pounding so violently it hurt. "You're insane…" you whispered again, but it came out breathless, broken—pleading, not protesting.
"Only insane for you," he said, stepping closer until both of your lips touched again. His fingers closed around the base of his cock, guiding it to your entrance, dragging its head from the bottom of your slick, leaking fold before splitting you in half.
The invasion was slow, his thickness stretching you to accommodate him. Your back arched, fingers scrambling against the metal lockers, searching for something, anything to hold onto. He stilled inside you, letting you feel every inch–the stretch, the burn, the overwhelming fullness.
"Relax, honey. Your cunt is made for me, remember?" he growled, thumb circling your clit in tight, punishing strokes. "Gonna ruin this cunt so good it won't fit anyone after that." He curled his fingers just right, striking that spot deep inside that made stars burst behind your eyelids.
There was no slow build, no gentle rhythm. It was a punishing, possessive pace from the start, each deep thrust slamming you back against the lockers with a metallic bang that echoed through the empty room.
"This," he grunted, driving into you, "is where you belong." Another thrust. "Not out there with him." His mouth found yours again, the kiss a messy clash of teeth and tongue, swallowing every one of your ragged moans. "You answer to me. You come for me."
He gave your cunt a number of slaps with enough force to make you jolt, every thrust driving him deeper than the last. The world around you dissolved into the sensation of him inside you, the stretch and the friction building towards a crescendo. His thumb continued its merciless assault on your clit, pushing you higher with each stroke. You were lost in the maelstrom of sensations, your body strung taut like a bowstring, ready to snap at any moment.
"Yunho," you moaned, the sound torn from your throat as he hit a particularly sensitive spot. Your fingers, still tangled in his hair, pulled him closer, the other hand slipping off the locker to claw at his back, urging him deeper.
"Come," he growled against your lips, his voice a command. "Come on my cock. Now."
That's the order you needed. You cried out, fingers splaying against the metal, your body surrendering to the rhythm he set—brutal, possessive, perfect. Each thrust drove the breath from your lungs, each snap of his hips chipped away at your control. His hand fisted in your hair, tugging your head back as he leaned down to bite your neck, mark you.
As he picked up the pace, his thrusts becoming more urgent, you felt your body begin to tense, the pressure building inside you. Yunho's fingers were on your clit again, the touch sending you over the edge. You came with a strangled cry, your body shuddering around him.
Yunho's response was immediate. He roared—his entire body tensing like a bowstring as he slammed into you one last, punishing time. Hot stripes of cum painted your walls in thick spurts—each pulse timed with a guttural groan against your throat. His hand stayed clamped on your body, forcing you to feel every single drop as it spilled inside where it belonged.
"My god…" he panted harshly against sweat-damp skin when he finally stills deep within you—his cock twitching weakly through the aftershocks while his grip on you remained ironclad: "Look at what I did to my girl."
He slowly pulled out, his semi-hard cock bouncing a bit as it completely left your body. You gasped for air, meeting his gaze after your mind became clear. His gaze still dark with arousal, but also…something more. Something that looked almost like tenderness.
"I don't want you to be others…" Yunho's hand placed at the back of your head as he pulled you into his embrace. "It drives me crazy… I pretend not to care but fucking hell I can't take it anymore. Y/N, please. I love you…be my girlfriend."
His words hung in the air, heavy with emotion, for a moment, you couldn't process them. Wasn't that exactly what you longed to hear? You could hardly believe he had fallen in love with you, not with your body, not with raw lust. His chest heaved against yours, the warmth of his sweat-damp skin mingling with your own. His hand remained at the back of your head, holding you close as if he feared you might pull away.
But you didn't. You couldn't. Because as you looked into his eyes, you saw the raw honesty there—the vulnerability he rarely let anyone see.
"I…" Your voice trembled, barely audible. Yunho's grip tightened slightly, as if to encourage you to continue. You swallowed hard, your throat dry. "Yunho, I—"
"You don't have to say anything right now," he cut in, his voice rough but gentle. He pressed a kiss to your temple, his lips lingering there. "Just… think about it. I can't keep pretending anymore. I need you to be mine. Truly mine."
You wanted to argue, to tell him this was all too much, too fast. But the truth was, you'd been feeling it too. The way your heart skipped a beat when he was near, the way his touch made you feel alive in a way no one else ever had. You'd tried to convince yourself it was just physical, just an obsession, but deep down, you knew better.
"Yunho," you whispered, your voice steadier now. His gaze snapped back to yours, his eyes searching. "I already am."
For a moment, he blinked, as if he hadn't heard you correctly. Then, something shifted in his expression—a mix of disbelief and hope. "What?" he breathed, his voice barely there.
You smiled, small and trembling, but genuine. "I already am," you repeated. "Yours."
His face softened, the tension in his body easing as he pulled you closer. His lips met yours in a tender, desperate kiss, the kind that spoke of unspoken promises and second chances. You felt the heat of his breath, the way his hands cradled you like you were something fragile and precious.
Yunho pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes shining with a warmth that made your chest ache. "Now," he murmured, his thumb stroking your cheek where his grip had been a moment before. His voice was softer now, laced with a smug, triumphant certainty. "Go tell the golden boy the best couple election is cancelled. Your partner's here."
—---
Posters displaying the results were swiftly placed on the bulletin boards around campus. Naturally, your photo was positioned directly beneath the champion's image. Yet, it was obvious that someone had ripped out the male photo and substituted it with Yunho's picture, along with a "friendly reminder" and an arrow tip pointing to your photo: "My Girlfriend. Off limits."
Yunho x Reader x Mingi, threesome, JEALOUSY and competition, double penetration, breeding kink, dom/sub dynamics, 9th member au
"Something wrong?" Mingi feigned innocence, knowing damn well what he was doing.
"No…no…" Yunho took a step forward, his gaze tracing down the red mark on your neck. His fingertips slightly skimmed over it with a hint of possessiveness. "Your makeup is not removed cleanly y/n..."
Your pulse quickened as Yunho's fingers ghosted over the mark on your neck, the gentle gesture sending a shiver down your spine. He knew what that mark meant, he knew what Mingi had done, and his touch was a silent claim, a reminder that he was the one who had put it there.
Good Kitty
@skzdust
Wooyoung x Reader x San, threesome, Boxer San, pet play, leashed, dom/sub dynamics
Wooyoung’s star fighter, San, was performing well tonight, and based on how he’d been doing recently, you suspected he’d win. This would be a good thing for you, as Wooyoung would be in a good mood and might actually let you cum. Last time San had lost, you’d been edged for two hours.
“My good kitty.” He absently patted your head, scratching your scalp. You whimpered, and he finally looked at you, smiling. “You like being my good kitty? Excited to get fucked?”
“Yeah.” You whispered.
“San just needs to get one more good hit in and it’s over.” Wooyoung turned his attention back to the fight. “And then I’ll fuck you so good.”
Cabin Fever
@bananayuyu
Yunho x Reader focused, Yunho x Reader x Mingi, Seonghwa x Hongjoong, San x Ari x Wooyoung, threesomes, foursomes, member x member, Reader has medical issues, dom/sub dynamics, double penetration, voyeurism, cuckholding, pining, period sex, lots of kinks
Every year you and your high school friends visited your favorite cabin in the woods. It was cozy and old and probably too small for the seven of you; it was perfect for a summer get away. Each year you all saved up, and when the weather became too hot to bear in the city, you booked a week in the forest. The natural hot spring tub out back, the easy trails on the mountain behind, and the trees that occasionally graced you with their delicious fruit, made it your favorite place. Each and every summer you anticipated it with a giddiness that nothing else could make you feel.
Fall Into Desire
@chexxycheol
Mingi x Reader x Seonghwa, friends to lovers, threesome, sex competition, ot8 referenced, mostly oral
It was quite stupid, watching your two friends argue over who’s better at giving oral. They both sat on opposite sides of your apartment's living room going back and forth over this.
“Dude I told you I can make a girl cum with just my tongue” Mingi said to the elder, his eyes darkening trying to stay calm.
“Who do you think is better Y/N?” Mingi called out to you. You finally looked up from your phone giving him a questioning stare before shrugging and turning back to look at your phone, waiting once again for them to finish this petty argument.
“Why don’t we let our girl decide” Seonghwa suggested, looking at you.
come on, sannie
@yungistiny
Wooyoung x Reader x San, studio sex, threesome, double penetration, Reader is Wooyoung’s girlfriend, getting caught
He grinned wider. “You’re hot when you’re mad.”
“You’re a brat.”
Wooyoung closed the distance, fingers brushing your cheek, his other hand sliding down to grip your hip. “Yeah, but you love this brat.”
You hated that he wasn’t wrong. The moment his lips brushed yours, all that pent up tension twisted into something darker, hotter.
“You gonna yell at me all night,” he murmured, “or are you gonna let me make it up to you?”
Double Load
@sanjoongie
San x Reader x Seonghwa, porn star au, director Reader, threesome, double penetration, member x member
You looked pointedly at the female star, who was casually tying a robe over her skimpy clothes. You grabbed Seonghwa's hips, firmly pushing him up against the machine. “You’re the one in power. It’s taking two men to pleasure you,” You instruct.
You run the tip of your nose along the seam of skin that Seonghwa is flashing. “You’re enjoying yourself. You want to feel the heat of his skin against your tongue, like you could drink it off him.”
Seonghwa watches you with wide eyes. He’s a vet in the porno world but he’s never been manhandled like this before. Especially by the director of all things.
I'm Your Fantasy
@mymoodwriting
ATEEZ x Reader, vampire ATEEZ, human Reader, nightclub au, dubcon/noncon, gang bang, blood, bad friends
“Don’t scare our special guest now.”
An arm was suddenly around your shoulder, and you saw a somewhat familiar face. The drunk from before had come up from behind, a devilish smile on their face. You didn’t smell any alcohol on them, and they seemed completely sober and in control. They turned to you and you felt a chill run down your spine.
“So it’s her?”
“Yes. She won’t be any trouble if she’s sober. In fact, she might enjoy this all the more.”
“I guess you’re all set then.”
“I’m in full control now, yes. So why don’t we get ready for the show.”
Summary: It was supposed to be a day for you two but not keep disturbing by other. (no double check cuz im lazy)
Seonghwa takes great pleasure in showcasing just how wonderful his girlfriend is. After all, good things are meant to be shared, aren't they? He always shares with others how kind and thoughtful you are, and even though you occasionally get upset, it never lessens his love for you—and your body.
"My love…god…I want you so much…" Seonghwa whispered against your lips between the kiss, his arched crotch resting on your clothed core, its tip kissing the hollow gap of your clit. He broke the kiss just long enough to yank your shirt over your head, tossing it aside without a second thought. His hands immediately found their way to your breasts—one thumb brushing over a peaked nipple before his lips replaced them in an instant.
"Time to fuck…" Leaving a long lick on your nipple, he gave it a slight suck before walking to the end of the bed. His hands moved with calculated, practiced ease, securing your ankles and wrists to the corners of the bed with the black silk rope he had pulled from the bedside drawer. He made sure they were tight enough to keep you from closing your legs, but not painful enough to cut off circulation.
Seonghwa took his time, savoring how you looked on display for him—all spread out and vulnerable for his taking. Once you were secured, he leaned back, taking in the view.
"God, you're beautiful. Tied up all pretty just for me." A rough chuckle let out from his mouth as he pulled both toys (a new one?) from the drawer, he ran his fingers over them teasingly before turning back to you with the dark, predatory look in his eyes.
"What flavour of lube do you want? Chocolate? Strawberry? Or whisky?"
"Strawberry, please…want something sweet."
"Hm…good choice." A soft click reached your ear as the lid of the pink lube was opened. The transparent yet tingle with sweet scent liquid dropped on the bird beak-shaped head of the dildo, flowing down along the outline of the bulging knot below.
"Now take it for me—"
Suddenly, a sharp ringtone cut through the air like a blade, making you both jump.
"What is it, Woo?" he grumbled, pressing his free hand against his forehead.
"Hey, hyung," Wooyoung chirped, way too cheerful for whatever ungodly hour this was. "We're on our way to your home."
Seonghwa's brain short-circuited.
"Wait–what?!"
"You asked me and San to have a movie night, remember?"
"Yes, I remember. But now it's damn 3 O'CLOCK!AFTERNOON"
"Doesn't matter," (They won't tell Seonghwa actually they want to see you) Wooyoung sing-songed, completely unfazed. "Hey, open the door. We arrived."
Seonghwa's eyes widened in disbelief as the call ended abruptly. He turned to you, his expression caught between frustration and urgency.
Knock-knock-knock.
The loud rapping at the door sent a fresh jolt of panic through both of you. "Shit, shit, shit—!" Seonghwa hissed under his breath, scrambling off the bed as you tugged helplessly against the silk restraints.
"Seonghwa, untie me!" you whisper-yelled, cheeks burning as another impatient knock sounded—this one followed by Wooyoung's teasing voice.
"Hyung, we can hear you moving around in there! Let us in before San eats all your snacks!"
Seonghwa groaned, running a hand through his already-mussed hair. "One second!" he barked toward the door before turning back to you with an apologetic wince. "I'm so sorry, love." (The knot was too hard to untie)
"Let's say you're sleeping first." He pecked your forehead before rushing out to stop Wooyoung from opening the door.
"Surprise." Wooyoung and San stood there, grinning like idiots, arms full of snacks. San held up a DVD case. Seonghwa blinked. "That's not how surprise movie nights work."
Wooyoung waved him off. "Details, details." He shoved past Seonghwa, kicking off his shoes like he owned the place. San followed, already digging into the chips.
"Where's your y/n?" Wooyoung jumped on the sofa.
"Sleeping." Seonghwa followed behind.
"Huh? Napping now? What? You two had some fun time last night—"
"Shut it. She worked late last night. Okay?" Seonghwa cut him off, pulling a blanket on him to hide his arched cock. With a frustrated huff, Seonghwa swatted Wooyoung's wandering hand away from the blanket and quickly adjusted himself, praying neither of them noticed his obvious state.
Seonghwa exhaled sharply through his nose, willing his body to calm down as he subtly adjusted his jeans for what felt like the hundredth time. The movie blared in the background—some action flick San had picked—but his mind was far from the explosions and gunfire. Instead, it was tangled up in the image of you, still bound and waiting for him in the bedroom, flushed and needy.
He shifted again, discreetly touching the heel of his palm against his crotch under the blanket when Wooyoung wasn't looking.
"Hyung, you okay?" San suddenly asked around a mouthful of popcorn, eyes still glued to the screen. "You keep fidgeting."
Seonghwa's jaw tightened. "Mm. Just—uh, stomachache. From the snacks."
Wooyoung snorted. "Or something else," he hummed, wiggling his eyebrows without even glancing over.
Seonghwa shot him a withering glare, but his traitorous cock only throbbed harder. He couldn't help but imagine the way your breath hitched earlier when he'd teased you, the way your hips had lifted instinctively toward his touch—
A particularly loud sound effect from the movie snapped him back to reality. He bit back a groan, gripping the blanket in his fist. This was torture. He needed to get rid of them. Fast.
Seonghwa cleared his throat. "Don't you two have somewhere else to be?"
"Nope," Wooyoung said, popping the p lazily. "We're comfy right here."
His patience was fraying. "It's getting late."
"It's three in the afternoon, Hwa." Wooyoung finally turned to him, grinning like the little shit he was. "Unless you're really desperate to get back to your girlfriend—"
"I said she's sleeping—"
"Uh-huh." Wooyoung leaned over, batting his lashes. His thumb held on the button firmly, scrolling the movie list, the previous movie was already finished . "This is ridiculous," he groaned, dragging a hand through his hair. "Are we seriously out of things to watch?"
San, curled up at the other end of the sofa, barely looked up from his phone. "There's always Star Wars," he offered idly.
Wooyoung twisted toward him, eyes wide with disbelief. "Are you kidding me? We literally just watched it—"
"Shut up," Seonghwa gave him a sharp whisper, one finger pressed to his lips. "My baby is sleeping. Keep it down."
"Okok. Quiet~" Wooyoung clamped his mouth shut, though he couldn't help but roll his eyes.
"I'm checking on her. Don't. Make. A. Sound." (okay. The opportunity has arrived!!)
"Can we order pizza?"
"Up to you. Just be quiet!"
Seonghwa stood up from the sofa, walking back to his room quietly. He pushed the door open just enough to slip inside, closing the door softly to avoid making any sound. The room was heavy with the scent of vanilla and sweat, the dim glow of candlelight flickering against the wall.
"Oh my beautiful baby…miss you so much.." An evil grin wore on his lips as he stepped closer, gazing at your tied up body hungrily. You laid there, feeling Seonghwa's lips brushing against your forehead before moving down to your jawline.
"Hwa…"
"My baby has waited so long, huh? Sorry, love. I don't know they'd suddenly come when we're having fun.." You felt the mattress dented because of his weight. His thighs were on your both sides, trapping you between him and the bed. A whimper escaped your lips as he leaned down, brushing his nose against the shell of your ear before adding, "We can finish it quickly…"
"But what if they hear…?"
"Oh? Then you need to be quiet…" Reaching out the silk blindfold next to your head, he carefully sliding it gently over your eyes. "Relax…honey…" He whispered softly against the shell of your ear, making a shiver down to your spine. "I'll make sure they hear nothing…maybe a little bit."
"Hwa…" The cool air of the room ghosted over your skin, but it wasn't enough to distract from the weight of Seonghwa's body hovering over you.
"Shh…" His voice was a velvet murmur as something smooth and metal—one of his favorite toys—traced a teasing line down your stomach and lower still. "Now take it like a Daddy's good girl…." You felt a cold surface which was slicking with strawberry flavour lube, sliding through your soaked fold that evidence of previous excited pussy licking and dragging down to your swollen hole, pushing inside inch by inch.
The new toy was unlike anything you'd experienced from his ever-growing collection. It wasn't just a simple vibration, nor a solid dildo. This one seemed to expand within you, filling every crevice, throbbing and twisting with a slow, deliberate rhythm that resonated deep in your core. You whimpered, a sound of surprise and overwhelming sensation, your fingers weakly clutching the sheets, which were already damp beneath you.
"Ah… mmph… Seonghwa…!" you gasped, the blindfold a black void amplifying the internal pressure. Each pulse of the toy made your hips buck instinctively, your body a slave to the relentless, expanding pleasure. He'd pushed it in so completely, leaving no room, no escape from the intense fullness.
Another sharp sigh tore from your lips when his touch became firmer, his fingers curling just so—
Knock knock.
You froze. Seonghwa's hand stilled.
"Hyung!" Wooyoung's sound, muffled but unmistakably loud, seeped through the door. "The pizza's here! You coming or what?"
Seonghwa exhaled through his nose, visibly fighting the urge to groan. For a second, he just stared at you—lips parted, cheeks flushed, body trembling beneath him—before his expression shifted into something dangerously playful.
"Mmm, guess we do have to be quick," he mused, leaning down to nip at your earlobe. "Unless you want to test if they can hear you over the sound of their own chewing."
Your protest died in your throat as his fingers found their mark again, coaxing a choked whimper from you. He chuckled darkly, his breath hot against your skin.
"Later. Y/n is still sleepy."
"Okay then we save some for you."
Wooyoung left and Seonghwa immediately plunged you full with the heaviness of the toy, fingers fanned out on your waist to keep you still.
"Shhh…," he murmured, twisting the toy slightly. "Gonna make sure every inch of you is taken care of tonight…" He pressed deeper, and suddenly, you understood. The toy wasn't just smooth—it had ridges, subtle but maddening as they dragged against your walls. Your back arched off the bed, a broken whimper spilling from your lips. A low humming sound from a vibrator suddenly reached your ear. Before your mind could fully process it, you felt the source of that hum press against you. Not inside, but directly against the swollen, aching peak of your clit.
The shock was electric, a bolt of pure, unadulterated pleasure that made you cry out, your voice sharp and high. The combination was utterly devastating. Inside, the expanding toy pulsed with a deep, gut-wrenching rhythm, its ridges dragging against your g spot with every slow, deliberate twist from Seonghwa's hand. The external vibrator–a small, focused bullet –met the bud with an insistent force that stole the last remnants of rational thought.
"That's good for you, princess?" His voice was a low, velvet rumble beside your ear, thickening with need. "Let me hear how much you love it. Let Daddy hear his baby girl fall apart for him."
He moved the vibrator in slow, teasing circles, never letting the pressure become constant, always keeping you on the edge. Your hips thrashed, a desperate dance to capture the sensation, to grind against the source of your undoing. The slick wetness between your legs was now a torrent, soaking the sheets beneath you.
"Seonghwa….I…." you sobbed, the words tumbling out. You didn't know if you were begging him to stop or begging him to push you over.
"Oh? What you want, hm? You gotta use your little mouth to tell me…" He watched your body arched against the sensations with a satisfied growl, his fingers tracing over where the dildo disappeared into you—just enough to tease.
"Too much…too much, Seonghwa," you begged, your voice cracking with a vulnerability that turned you instantly into putty. You tried to shift, to escape the pinpoint focus of the buzzing, but his large hand settled gently but firmly on your hip, pinning you to the damp sheets.
"Ah Ah, baby. This is exactly what you need," Seonghwa punctuated his words by pressing the vibrator harder against you, the intensity of the buzz spiking just for a moment. He began a torturous rhythm. As the toy inside you expanded to its peak, its ridges scraping that perfect spot deep within, he would press the vibrator firmly against your clit. Then, as the internal toy contracted, he'd pull the vibrator away, leaving your nerves screaming in its absence, only to bring it back in a teasing, circular motion.
"Fuck…look at you," he rasped, "Already so wrecked and I haven't even fucked you yet." With a flick of his thumb, he increased the speed of the bullet vibrator. The hum intensified, the vibrations becoming a frantic, angry buzz against your hypersensitive flesh. The bullet just liked his tongue, flipping your reddened bud up and down while he twisted the internal toy, a sharp, deliberate motion that made its ridges grind mercilessly against your sweet spot.
"...You're gonna come before I'm done with this cunt. That's my promise." His fingers traced the join where your body swallowed the toy, slick and swollen, before giving it another slow, torturous rotation. The ridges inside you flared out further, pressing into tender, untouched spots, and your breath hitched in a shuddering gasp.
"You like this? Like having all your holes stuffed and filled, don't you?" He cooed against your messy core, stretching out his tongue to lick through the peak of your clit. "Bet you're imagining how my cock would fill you up instead, huh? How it would stretch and stuff you just right…I bet you're desperate for me, aren't you?"
Before you could answer, he flicked the toy inside you upward at the same moment he pressed the vibrator flush against your clit. The shock of it sent a violent tremor through you, your thighs clamping around his wrist instinctively as your back arched off the bed. You couldn't even scream—your voice was a broken whine, high and desperate, as the pleasure tore through you like lightning.
"Answer me, princess." He demanded roughly, "You want my cock buried in this tight little cunt? Want me to fill you up until it's dripping out of you?" His fingers tightened around the base of his own length—painfully slow as he dragged himself through your slick folds after moving the toy out, but not pushing in yet. Just teasing. Torturing.
"...Say yes."
"Yes…ahh…hwa…I…" You managed to speak, yet it was soon replaced by an unsatisfied whine as he pulled out, the emptiness mixed with the coldness made you squirm.
"You have to come all over Daddy's hand first so that you can have my cock. Can you do that, baby?" Your plea dissolved into a shuddering moan as his fingers circled your overstimulated clit, the touch unbearably light yet devastating. His fingers plunged into your soaked folds with a filthy squelch, curling just so, stretching you in a way that made your breath hitch.
"Look at you," he murmured, voice dripping with satisfaction. "So fucking needy. Just a little more, yeah? Wanna see you come apart first—then I'll give you what you really want."
His thumb pressed down on your clit in slow, deliberate circles, the pressure just shy of unbearable. The stretch of his fingers inside you was relentless, his knuckles brushing against that spot that made stars burst behind your blindfold. You were so close—so agonizingly close—but he kept you teetering there, your body trembling like a bowstring pulled taut.
"Please," you sobbed, your hips jerking helplessly against his hand.
"Please what, baby?" he cooed, his voice rough with restraint. "Use your words."
"Let—let me come," you begged, your voice breaking over the words. "Hwa, I—I can't—"
The second the words left your lips, his fingers crooked harder, his thumb swiping firm and fast over your clit. The orgasm crashed into you like a tsunami, your back bowing off the bed as a guttural cry tore from your throat. Waves of pleasure rolled through you, your walls clamping down on his fingers as you pulsed around them, slick dripping shamelessly down his wrist.
You barely had time to catch your breath before his weight settled over you, his erection pressing insistently against your throbbing entrance. "...Gonna fill this cunt up till it's dripping for days. Make sure everyone knows who owns this pretty little pussy—"
Before he could bury the hilt, the door handle suddenly jiggled.
"Hyunggggg!!! I heard some voices! You both awoke, didn't you?!" Wooyoung's muffled voice carried through the wood, followed by an impatient rattle of the knob. "Are you hogging snacks in here or what?"
Seonghwa's smirk turned dangerous. In one fluid motion, he snatched the nearest blanket and draped it over you—just enough to conceal the restraints but not enough to hide the fact that you were very much occupied.
"Hold on," he called sweetly, shifting to sit casually on the edge of the bed, blocking Wooyoung's view as the door creaked open.
"Dude, what the—?" Wooyoung froze mid-step, eyes darting between Seonghwa's far too innocent expression and the suspiciously bundled figure beside him.
San's head popped up behind him, eyebrows skyrocketing. "Oh. Ohhh. Wow."
Seonghwa sighed dramatically. "I did say I was checking on my baby."
Wooyoung's mouth opened and closed like a fish. "Uh. Right. Okay. Cool. Coolcoolcool—" He backpedaled so fast he nearly tripped over San, slamming the door shut behind them.
Muffled shouting erupted from the living room: "THEY ARE NOT WATCHING A MOVIE. I REPEAT, THEY ARE NOT—"
"SHUT UP JUNG WOOYOUNG!!" Seonghwa yelled out before sighing dramatically, shaking his head. "I swear I'm going to smack him…" His gaze softened in a second once his eyes landed on you—flushed and messy.
"Now…where were we?" he hissed, his voice low and full of lust.
You groaned, torn between embarrassment and the relentless ache his touch had left behind. "You are impossible."
He nipped at your collarbone, lapping at the sting. "And you love it." Your gasp was muffled by Seonghwa's hungry mouth as he finally sank into you, filling you completely in one smooth thrust. His low groan vibrated against your lips, fingers tightening possessively on your hips.
"Fuck—so tight, baby… Been thinking about this all damn morning," he growled, rolling his hips in slow, deliberate circles, making sure you felt every inch.
A whimper escaped you as heat pooled low in your belly. He untied the rope on your limbs, your legs hooked over his shoulders, the new angle giving him more room to drive himself deeper—not that you had anywhere to go, not with the restraints still holding firm. Seonghwa smirked, tilting his head just enough to catch the faintest creak of the door through your ragged breathing. His eyes flickered toward the sliver of light where it didn't quite close properly, the subtle shift of shadows beyond.
"Mm… Seems we've got an audience, sweetheart," His next thrust was harder, earning a sharp moan from you. "Guess Wooyoung couldn't resist getting a peek at what's his—mmph—at what he'll never have."
Your cheeks burned, but the knowledge that they were watching—touching themselves while Seonghwa claimed you—sent a shiver of forbidden pleasure down your spine.
Seonghwa noticed.
His grin turned wicked as he shifted, draping your legs over his shoulders to spread you wider. "Show 'em just how well I take care of you," he purred, angling his hips just right to hit that spot that made you see stars.
A broken cry tore from your lips as your back arched off the bed. The restraints bit into your wrists, but you couldn't care less—not when he was pounding into you with brutal precision, not when you could hear the faint, bitten-off curses from the doorway.
One particularly hard thrust had you clenching around him, nails scrabbling for purchase against the sheets.
Seonghwa's throat seized around a loud crying, his pace faltering as he felt you tighten. "Fuck—gonna make you come just like this," he rasped, voice rough with effort. "Let 'em see what happens when someone tries to interrupt us."
You were close. So close. And from the way his rhythm stuttered, he was too.
Then—
THUD.
The door swung open fully as San lost his balance sending him and Wooyoung tumbling into the room.
"OH SHIT—"
Seonghwa didn't stop.
If anything, he fucked into you harder, gripping the headboard with one hand to keep his balance as he glared over his shoulder.
"Out. Now. Or I swear to God, I'll make you both watch the entire thing while you sit there with blue balls."
Wooyoung scrambled upright, eyes wide. "We're going! We're—fuck, okay, just—" His gaze flicked to where you were stretched around Seonghwa's cock, dripping onto the sheets, and he let out a strangled noise before dragging San out by the collar.
The door slammed shut.
Silence.
Seonghwa burst out laughing, forehead dropping to your shoulder as his body shook with it. "I swear, those little shits are going to be the death of me," he muttered, kissing your pulse point before pulling back just enough to look at you.
"Now… Let's finish what we started—"
"Hey hyung…" Wooyoung asked carefully.
Ugh. Again?
What the fuck is it??!" Seonghwa rolled his eyes.
"You don't mind if we join, right?"
"WHAT?"
"Good things are meant to share, aren't they?" San chimed in.
These two shites…
He should know the movie night was just a lie; what they really wanted to see was how perfect Seonghwa's girlfriend was and how you were fucked dumb whenever they got the chance.
Usually, the other members would get baby hybrid milk ready for you, mostly Seonghwa, San, and Wooyoung. But today, it was just Hongjoong looking after you...there was no way around it; the others had their own schedules. Plus, he was feeling under the weather, so he stayed back in the dorm to rest.
Hongjoong: (reading the guideline given by Seonghwa) ok…one cup of powder…three cups of hot water…ugh…why so hard…
Y/n: (staring at Hongjoong and tilting your head) pa~hungry~
Hongjoong: (smiling) okok…honey…wait a litte…bit…(measuring the volume of water)....got it. As long as the powder melted, you can drink , baby.
Y/n: purring
(10 minutes later)
Hongjoong: ok…baby…come here. (Picking you up) Let’s drink~
(But Hongjoong forgot to tighten the bottle cap…)
Hongjoong: baby…baby…drink slow—-(Pouring all the milk on your face!!) OH SHIT!!!
Now you are soaking wet.
--------
Yawn
Puppies need more sleep, right? But Wooyoung won’t allow it.
Wooyoung: (Humming song and playing your paw) awww so cute.
Y/n: (whining and flinch)
Wooyoung: C'mon, let me squeeze your paw. (Grab it back and poke your metacarpal pad)
Y/n: (kicking)
Wooyoung: No, no. Naughty. (rub the fur between the claws)
Y/n: (whining to complain)
Wooyoung: (take this chance to put his finger on your tongue)
Summary: How to comfort a grumpy alpha? Fetch a tea? No. It's your jui**
"Don't fucking close your legs or I'll tie them open myself." Mingi warned, pushing your thighs wide open, his saliva linking to your dripping clit as he lifted his head to meet your gaze.
Once you took on the role of his omega, everything you anticipated changed—at least he refrained from viewing you as just an object for his lust or a plaything for his satisfaction. He referred to you as "Princess," not "Queen," due to the tribe's disapproval, yet in truth, your position was not far removed from that of a primary wife. Even more astonishingly, he placed you in the army—immersing you in roars, formations, and combat skills—so you could defend yourself and the tribe, much like Luna.
However, there were moments when you also needed to be his solace.
To the point where tears pearled and dripped onto the rich mahogany of his desk. A choked sob caught in your throat, a sound of pure submission, swallowed by the oppressive silence of his private office. His threat wasn't empty; you'd seen the coils of rope he kept in his desk drawer (he claimed that's for training only). It seemed less for sparring and more to teach you about obedience.
You obeyed, letting your legs fall open until the muscles in your hips screamed in protest. "Please, Sir Mingi…"
"Sir?" He mused, his voice a low, gravely thing that vibrated through your very core. His thumb calloused and rough from a lifetime gripping a sword, sweeping over your slick, exposed clit in a slow, maddeningly circle, and your back arched off the desk despite your will. Parchments detailing border disputes and supply lines crinkled beneath you.
"You serve at my leisure, Princess. Is this not a form of service? Relieving the immense…stress of my position?"
You had known, of course, that Mingi was a greedy man—his temper short, his hunger relentless. And yet, when his rough fingers had curled around your wrist earlier, pulling you away from the delicate porcelain set, you had foolishly thought he merely sought another cup of his favourite tea.
But Mingi wanted something stronger.
"Those dumbasses drive me insane….know nothing about the damn war but act like they're commanders…" His head dipped lower, and the world narrowed to the sensation of his hot mouth on your most intimate flesh. You cried out, a sharp, involuntary sound, as his tongue lapped at your essence. He was mapping every fold, every nerve ending, circling your clit, nudging his nose to the entrance as he ate you out like a starveman.
Your fingers, desperate for an anchor, tangled in his dark, silken hair, not to push him away, but to hold on as he ruthlessly dismantled every shred of your composure.
"Those dumbasses prattle on about honor," he growled against you, his voice muffled but the vibration a fresh, extreme torture, "while they sip wine in cushioned cairs." His hand, the one not occupied with pinning your thigh, slid from your hip, up the tense plane of your stomach, to close over one of your breasts. The rough pad of his thumb scraped over your nipple through the thin fabric of your dress, and another broken sound escaped you, half-protest, half-plea. He squeezed, not gently, a reminder of his total control.
"They have no concept of the price. The blood. The filth." The heat of his breath ghosted over your wetness as he pulled back slightly, only to drag his tongue in a long, devastating stroke from your opening to the swollen bud above. You gasped, your body trembling under his touch and tongue. Each flick, each suck, was tingled with the low growling murmurs of a man who carried the weight of war in his bones and sought to offload it onto your leaking cunt.
"You know I almost ripped off their tongues to hang on the wall as decorations…." he said, "but you see? Your juice is a far more potent brew than any tea. It steadies my hand. Clears my mind of the foolishness they spew in court." Your juice, as he called it, was indeed a potent brew, and he was a man dying of thirst. He drank you down like a man possessed, each suckle a demand for more.
You whimpered, his words fell into deafs' ears as your hips instinctively toward his mouth. You were supposed to be here to learn strategy. To take notes. To observe the logistics of command. Not this—this raw, consuming thing that blurred the line between discipline and desire.
But Mingi had never cared for lines.
He drove you higher, his movements becoming more targeted, a punishing rhythm against your clit that promised to shatter you. Shameful sucking sounds filled the room as his tongue ravaged your sensitive, swollen clit, its slippery texture sliding over the folds and lazily dragging to your bud before taking the entire thing into his hot, wet mouth. Until all the sounds in the world vanished, only the slick, obscene sound of his mouth on you, the grating of his stubble on your tender inner thighs, and the ragged, sobbing breaths that were yours.
The tension snapped.
A raw, broken cry was ripped from your throat as the climax tore through you without warning, violent and absolute. It was less a wave of pleasure and more a seizure, a shattering that left you trembling and boneless against the desk. Your vision whited out, your grip on his hair going slack as you convulsed under the unyielding pressure of his mouth, which continued to work you through it, drawing out every last, shuddering pulse until it bordered on torture.
Slowly, agonizingly, he gentled his ministrations, his tongue softening to lazy, almost affectionate laps, soothing the oversensitive flesh he had just ravaged. He finally lifted his head, his chin glistening with your release. His eyes, dark and fathomless, met yours. The fury that had clouded them earlier was banked, replaced by a predatory, satiated glow.
He leaned over you, bracing his hands on the desk on either side of your head, caging you in. The scent of your arousal on his skin was overwhelming.
"See?" he murmured, his voice hoarse from use. He brought his wet thumb to your lips, smearing the taste of yourself there. It was a command, and you obeyed, your tongue flicking out instinctively to taste the bittersalt proof of your submission. "A far more effective tonic than any tea."
You lay there, utterly spent, your legs still wide apart, your dress bunched around your waist. The cool air of the chamber hit your wet, sensitised skin, and you flinched, a fresh wave of shame and vulnerability washing over you. But Mingi wasn't finished. He'd merely cleared the first line of defence.
Mingi shifted and stood up then, the leather of his breeches creaking as he rose to his full height, looming over you. He unbuckled the heavy leather belt at his waist. The click of metal made your heart skip a beat. He didn't bother with the rest of his uniform, simply unfastening the front of his breeches. He was already hard, reddened, and swollen, commanding length of flesh that promised to fill you, to stretch you, to brand you as his.
He didn't ask. He never did. He simply positioned himself at your entrance, the head of his cock pressing insistently against your leaking, gaping hole. He grabbed your ankles and pulled your legs up, draping them over his broad shoulders. The position was obscene, exposing you completely, leaving you with absolutely nothing.
"This is your lesson for today, Princess," he said, his voice a ragged whisper. "The most important one you will ever learn. How to serve your commander."
With a single, powerful thrust, he sheathed himself fully inside you, splitting you in half with his heaviness, humping the folds along his thickness. A sharp cry was torn from your throat, a sound of shock and overwhelming fullness. The stretch was intense, bordering on painful, but the wave of pure, raw pleasure that followed was devastating. Your body, traitorously, welcomed him, clenching around his invading heat. Above you, Mingi's head dropped back, a muscle in his jaw ticking as he fought for control.
"Gods…" he breathed. He stayed like that for a long moment, buried to the hilt, letting you adjust to the feel of him. Then his eyes found yours again, full of lust and hunger. He began to move, slowly stretching depth inch by inch until your cunt allowed his hilt to nestle inside fully. But just a second, his gentle rhythm, soft exploration were gone, replaced by a brutal, punishing cadence. Each thrust rocked your body against the hard desk, the edge digging into your back. The parchments beneath you were surely ruined, official seals and important scripts crumpling under your weight. He was marking his territory, not just on you, but on his entire domain.
"Look at me," he growled, his hand snapping up to grip your chin, forcing your gaze to his. "See who it is that ruins you. See who you belong to when the court is not watching."
Each thrust was a punctuation mark on his earlier frustrations. The dumbasses in court, the weight of command, the ever-present threat of war—he drove it all into you, using your body as a whetstone to sharpen his blunted edges.
His grip on your chin was iron, refusing to let you look away, to hide. "You take me so well," he grunted, the words strained, a sheen of sweat coating his brow. "My little omega. My perfect, fucking relief."
His pace was relentless, a merciless piston that stole the air from your lungs and thought from your mind. There was no strategy here, no logistics, only sensation. The world had shrunk to the slap of skin on skin, the creak of the desk, the guttural sounds tearing from his throat, and the high, keening whimpers that were yours.
You felt the familiar, terrifying coil of a second climax already tightening deep in your belly, sparked to life far too soon by the overwhelming stretch and the sheer authority of his possession. It was a betrayal of your own body, so quick to yield to him completely.
"Mingi—" you cried out, his name a prayer and a protest.
He read the tightening of your muscles, the wild dilation of your pupils. A cruel, satisfied smirk touched his lips. "Already? You greedy thing. You'll come when I allow it. Not a moment before."
He slowed his pace, drawing out his movements to a near-impossible languor, each shallow, grinding thrust a fresh torture. He was a master of this, of control, of drawing out pleasure until it became its own unique form of agony. You writhed beneath him, desperate for the friction, the completion he was deliberately denying you.
"Please," you begged, the word stripped of all pride. "Please, Sir. Let me…"
"Let you what?" he taunted, leaning down until his lips brushed your ear, his breath hot. "Come all over your commander's cock? Is that what you need?"
You could only nod, a frantic, pathetic motion.
"Then ask for it properly."
Tears streamed from the corners of your eyes, lost in your hairline. "Please… let me come. I need to… I need to come for you."
He held you there on the precipice for three more excruciating thrusts, his dark eyes drinking in your utter desperation. Then, with a guttural, "Now," he slammed back into you, his rhythm turning feral and deep once more.
It was all the permission you needed. The world shattered into a million glittering pieces. Your scream was muffled against the muscular cord of his arm as your orgasm seized you, a silent, convulsing storm that clenched around him like a vise, milking his length with involuntary pulses.
The sensation tore a ragged roar from his throat. His control snapped. His hips stuttered, his powerful body shuddering as he drove into you one last, final time, spilling his release deep inside you with a groan that sounded ripped from his very soul. He held himself there, buried to the hilt, as the last waves of his climax washed through him.
Slowly, he pushed himself up, dragging his softened, dripping cock out of your ruined cunt. He looked down at you, a mess of trembling limbs and ruined clothes on his ruined documents. He lowered your legs from his shoulders, tucking himself back into his breeches and fastened his belt.
Without a word, he bent and, with a surprising gentleness that always disarmed you, he lifted you into his arms. He carried you from the study, through a private entrance, into his adjacent personal chambers, and laid you down in the center of his king-sized bed.
He retrieved a damp cloth and returned, wiping away the mess on your thighs tenderly. When he was done, he tossed the cloth aside and pulled the furs over your shivering body. Mingi stood by the bed, stroking your hair slowly as if he was not the one who destroyed you with his dick.
""The lesson is over," he stated. "Rest. You have drills at dawn." You only nodded, closing your eyes and feeling his lips pressed on your forehead as a smoothing kiss.
Summary: You've had a crush on them for a long time but never had the guts to say anything. Then one day, you come across a TikTok challenge — kiss your best friend. You set up the camera and pretend you're going to film a reel with them. And then... you lean in…
9th member AU
Hongjoong
Just staring at the camera, not realizing you're leaning in closer and closer.
Both of you are moving to the music, spinning around.
You take the chance to lean in really close to his lips.
But he gasps and pulls away right away.
"What are you doing?!"
You're shocked, but there's a pang in his chest seeing your disappointed expression.
“Oh damn…what should I do…what should I do…” (He short-circuited.)
You pull back and try to hold back your tears, attempting to turn off the camera.
“Fuckkkk I mess up!” he murmurs.
Before you can get to it, he suddenly yanks you back.
"Idiot," he says, and kisses your cheek.
You freeze and watch him leaving quickly while yelling “Ugh…!”
Secretly cursing himself why he avoids you and not kiss your lips
Maybe next time
Seonghwa
Super focused on lip syncing and dancing
Noticing you lean in closer but not really caring
You suddenly tiptoe and give him a quick peck on the lips
His eyes go wide and he's totally stunned
Staring at the camera like a total fool
Opening and closing his mouth but no words come out
You just smirk and keep filming the reel
The music cuts off and you both lock eyes
Out of nowhere, he cups your cheeks and kisses you hard
"MMPH…!!"
"I should be the one to kiss you first. How could you do that? Oh no, I have to punish you for this."
Smirks
You feel like you can’t breathe
Yunho
You both sit down to chat about the filming.
Singing songs and picking up the moves while you can only focus on his lips.
You get ready to kiss him as he turns his head.
His eyes widen, face and ears are bright red
But then he smirks.
Tilting his head and holding your neck to give you a passionate kiss.
You both fight for control as he pushes you against the chair.
Wrapping your waist to pull you close.
Until you two literally press against each other
"So, that’s your reel, huh?"
Whispering between kisses
Can’t help but smile happily
It turns into a full make-out session where you both forget about the reel.
And the camera too.
Yeosang
Knowing you getting closer
Feeling a bit shy and slightly panicked
But deep down, he loves it
When the lyrics hit "I love you," you suddenly kiss his lips.
Freeze in place
Completely stunned. Just stunned. And more stunned.
Can't even respond.
"Is... is this for the reel?" (he’s totally dumbfounded)
You can only say it's the "kiss your best friend challenge."
"Oh, so you kissed me because I'm your best friend?" (he asks innocently)
Seriously... why can't he take a hint? (you facepalmed)
"Ah... what a challenge of intimacy... haha."
His face turns as red as a tomato as he finally gets what just happened.
"Do... do I need to kiss you back to complete the challenge...?"
You're at a loss for words
“Ugh…up to you…”
Brace up and suddenly kiss your temple when he sees your disappointed face
“Hm..I…I finished the challenge…”
San
You both are filming in his car
As you want to keep it private from others
You’re so nervous that you can’t even talk right
Noticing that something feels off
"What’s wrong?" He smiles and gently pats your head
It just makes you fall for him even more
"Hey, can you close your eyes?"
Once he shuts his eyes, you give his lips a quick peck
He opens his eyes wide
His smirk grows bigger
"What was that for?"
"It’s…it’s…ugh…" (you’re struggling to get the words out)
"Is that a challenge?" (you can only nod in response)
"Well, that’s how the challenge should be tackled."
He cups your face with one hand and pulls you into a passionate kiss
And the whole car fills with sounds of moaning and heavy breathing
Also the sound of skin slapping…?
Mingi
Just hanging out here waiting for you to set up the camera
Feeling nervous when you walk to him
Wrapping your arms around his waist
tiptoe to plant a quick kiss on him
He’s stunned and quickly look away because he's too shy to meet your eyes
Staring at the floor and grinning like a fool
Secretly loves how clingy you are and those kisses
"So, was that a prank or a real kiss?"
Grabbing your hips to pull you in closer
No matter what you say, he still gives you a soft kiss back
Sneaking his hands under your thighs, letting you jump onto him
Instinctively wrap your legs around his waist
Carrying you to the wall to keep making out
He pulls away from your lips to kiss your neck
Leaving hickeys everywhere, and they're super obvious
"That's what we call a kiss, kid”
Wooyoung
Always give you little pecks on your temples or cheeks, but never on the lips.
Afraid that you’re not into it.
But deep down, he wishes you could kiss him back just once.
Totally clueless about what you’re going to do.
You decide to lean in once the music starts.
Before you can press your lips against his, he catches on to your plan and leans in to kiss you instead.
You’re so taken aback that you pull away.
Grinning like a fool.
Holding your cheeks to kiss you passionately.
Turns into a full-on makeout session and he pushes you onto the bed.
“I love making these kinds of reels. Can we do this more often?”
What happens next? Picture it in your mind.
Jongho
Smart enough to see through your intentions
"Are you up to something?"
His smirk grows wider as you panic and turn red
Caught off guard when you lean in
He intentionally dodges
"Ugh! What’s going on?"
He knows he messed up when he notices your sad face
"Oh…so it’s just a prank? haha…"
Feeling super embarrassed and unsure of what to do
Warning: Smut|Hard core|Mentioned of cum feeding, murder, cannibalism|Oral|dirty mind|Fingering
Word count: 3.8K
A little series: 1. Take you in, 2. Trigger of heat, 3. Feeding, 4. First shower, 5. A trouble brat
Take you in
Seonghwa never thought of letting you live, or even taking you home. But there you were, a little monster curled up as a fluffy ball, taking a nap on the soft nest in his house.
As an owner of a renowned hunter's guild, and a hunter himself, kindness wasn't necessary. Efficiency, ruthlessness, an unwavering focus on the eradication of threats – these were the tenets he lived by. Yet, all the rules broke once he saw you in the forest, hurt and weak.
He remembered a wounded silver-white fur Kitsune laid on the moss, a deep gash along its flank bled a stark crimson fluid onto the leaf, where it whined softly. It should be contained, studied, its core extracted to power a city-blocked enhancement. It shouldn't be living in his house, enjoying his affection and attention.
Seonghwa swore he had wanted to kill you before.
He had raised his dagger. As long as he slit your throat, everything would be done. Yet, his hand had frozen. The dagger felt obscenely heavy. This little fox didn't attack, didn't growl but only simply closed its eyes, as if accepting fate. And he knew, he couldn't kill you.
Bringing you back to his home, he cleaned you up, brushed your fur. The hand that had once gripped the hilt of his sword now awkwardly wrapped the bandage around you. He was uncertain about the source of this compassion. Was it your curse or a sudden awakening of his conscience? He couldn't tell, but he found that he didn't resent it as much as he had anticipated.
At first, you were unfriendly towards him, which made sense given that his dwelling was stocked with numerous weapons. Whenever he came near, you would show your teeth, exposing fangs that were sharper than thorns, signaling him to keep his distance from your territory. Naturally, your quiet growls were not intimidating to him; they resembled a kitten pretending to be fierce, lacking any real hostility. Rather than using force to dominate you, he opted to gently feed you bits of puppy food, gradually winning your trust with this simple act.
The shift was gradual, imperceptible at first, like the slow changing of the seasons. The puppy food was replaced with slivers of high-grade steak, seared in a pan and cooled just for you. The improvised nest crafted from worn quilts transformed into a personalized bed that offered ample support. He even permitted you to utilize his clothing to create a nest, despite their high-end brand names. Your growls softened into quiet chuffs, then ceased altogether. You began to track his movements not with suspicion, but with a quiet following like a puppy.
At this moment, you stirred. A tiny, satisfied sigh escaping your muzzle as you burrow deeper into the warmth of the blanket you'd stolen from his own bed. Your ears twitched, chasing some dream rabbit…or human, and your fluffy tail gave a single, gently thump against the nest.
Seonghwa's glare softened into something tender. With a quiet sigh of his own, he reached out, gently stroking between your ears. Your fur was impossibly soft. Every time he touched your tail, he seemed to believe he had made the right choice.
"Daddy?" You murmured, your eyes, a startling, luminous amber, slowly opened.
"Yah, my baby?" Seonghwa chuckled softly, patting your small head. "Sleep well?" You only let out an adorable whine, nuzzling his hand to ask for more. Now he knew he had only one mission which was utterly illogical: protecting the little monster currently nuzzling his hand, its trust a heavier weight on him than any weapon he had ever carried.
The trigger of heat (M?)
You found yourself pondering why your Master, Seonghwa, often took such long breaks in the bathroom. Could he have fainted? Or perhaps he was sneaking a few of your snacks? Various ideas swirled in your head, yet none were compelling enough to deter you. You tossed and turned on his bed, attempting to absorb his scent. He had a delightful aroma, always sweet, just like baby powder.
You laid on the bed like a little worm, humming softly, encouraging your Master to hurry up. You wanted a cuddle now. Then, a thought suddenly popped up: Why not go and check on him?
With the stealth of a tiny ninja, you slipped off the bed, your bare feet making no sound on the cool wooden floor. The door was, as you'd suspected, not fully closed. The sweet, baby-powder scent of Seonghwa was here too, but now it was mixed with the clean, aromatic steam of his shower gel. Your heart began to thump a little faster against your ribs, a mix of guilt and thrilling curiosity.
You pressed yourself against the wall beside the doorframe, taking a silent breath before daring to peek through the crack.
The air was thick with mist, clouding the mirrors and beading on the tiles. And there he was, his back to you, standing under the rain showerhead, water sluicing down the defined muscles of his shoulders and spine.
You held your breath, your intention to call out to him completely forgotten. Then, as if in slow motion, he turned to reach for the soap, his body shifting into full, breathtaking view.
Your gaze, as if pulled by a magnet, instantly dropped. Nestled in the dark, neatly trimmed hair, his cock hung thick and heavy in its relaxed state, yet it was undeniably impressive and delicious. It was long and beautifully shaped, the skin smooth and flushed under the warm water. A single drop of water traced a path from its tip, and you couldn't help but think what if the liquid on his shaft, dripping on your thigh or even pouring into your weeping hole.
A sudden, intense warm bloomed low in your belly, spreading through your veins and finally gathering in your core. It started to pulse powerfully, strongly. An urgent of being filled, the desire of being fucked by a thick dick overwhelmed all the thoughts in your mind. Your mouth actually began to water, causing you to swallow thickly. Your fingers, which were gripping the doorframe, now slip inside your pants, reaching down the right place, wet and hot, giving yourself the friction you craved.
God, you wanted his dick to enter your cunt, to disappear inside your body and to watch his stomach tighten every time he slapped your cervix with that long, thick, angry cock.
Just then, as if sensing the weight of your stare, Seonghwa's head turned slightly. You froze, a deer caught in headlights, but his eyes were closed against the water spray. You snapped back, knowing you couldn't do it anymore. You had to get back to the bed before he spotted you. You scrambled back, leaping onto the mattress and burying yourself under the covers just as the water shut off with a final drip.
You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to control your breathing, the image of his heaviness nestled between his thighs still playing in your mind. The bathroom door opened, releasing a cloud of sweet, steamy air. You felt the dip of the mattress as he sat down.
"Were you asleep, little worm?"
You could only manage a weak, muffled hum in response, afraid that if you opened your mouth, you'd confess everything or, worse, moan. He chuckled, lying down and pulling your stiff form against his warm, clean chest.
"Sleep well, my baby."
Actually, he already found out how wet the mattress was underneath your hips and how your scent changed.
Feeding (M)
The lavish meals had always been enough—until they weren't.
Seonghwa had spoiled you. His precious monster, his beautiful fox with the finest delicacies the human word could offer--- rare black truffles drizzled in gold, the glistening pearls of Beluga caviar, the velvet slide of foie gras, which used to send shivers of delight through your fox form, was now just a cloying fat.
You were never satisfied.
The hunger was overwhelming and raw. It wasn't for sustenance;it was for the fresh, the essence of life. The cured meats, the aged cheeses, the artfully prepared fish—they were all dead. Delicious, exquisite corpses, but dead nonetheless.
In simple terms, what you desired was succulent meat and sweet blood, rather than grease that dissolves on your palate.
Your gaze, once fixed on the silver platters he reached out, now lingered on him. On the faint, blue web of veins at his wrist when he poured you wine that mixed with human blood. On the pulse that throbbed steadily in the hollow of his throat, tempting you. Sometimes, when he would accidentally cut himself while chopping, the metallic scent of his blood would fill the air, and a low, desperate whimper escaped from you as you'd have to dig your claws into the soft pillow to stop yourself from lunging, your instincts screaming to lap at the wound, to taste the life you craved. He just smiled, calling your name softly, offering you the finger to clean.
Then came the night that changed everything.
He returned to his chambers exhausted after a long, frustrating meeting with the guild. You padded in, like usual, resting your head on his lap, a silent offering of comfort. One of his hands stroked through your hair, another one held a glass of amber liquid, swaying slowly.
Fascinated, you crept closer, nosing at his wrist like the fox you were. Your tongue flicked out, catching a drop of spilled liquor on his skin, but beneath it was something else: the salt of his sweat, the musk of his frustration, and something else—something rich.
He looked down, his dark eyes understanding you in a way no one else could. "Still hungry, my pet?"
You couldn't answer his words but only purred, licking the base of his palm, nudging your nose against the front of his trousers, inhaling his potent scent. Your pupils dilated and your mouth watered as the heady, thick scent filled your nostril.
This.
This is what you want.
"You've found something new to crave," he observed, voice too calm for the way your claws dug into his thigh.
You didn't answer. You couldn't. Your focus narrowed to the heat between his legs, the promise of something richer than blood, more potent than the rarest of meats. Without hesitation, you pressed closer, nuzzling the bulge in his pants, tongue dragging over the fabric. He groaned, fingers tangling in your hair—not pushing you away, just holding.
"Greedy thing," he breathed, but there was no reprimand, only permission.
You nipped at the waistband of his trousers, impatient, and he laughed—a low, indulgent sound that sent shivers down your spine. He helped you undress him, baring himself to your gaze, your hunger. The sight alone made you salivate: the thick length of him, already leaking, glistening.
You needed no further invitation. One more second hesitation was unrespectful to his seed. A low, possessive growl rumbled in your chest as you leaned forward, giving a long, slow drag from base to tip as a first lick.
"That's it," he encouraged, his voice thick. "Take your fill."
Emboldened, you took him into your mouth, not with the practiced art of a whore, but with the single-minded hunger of a predator finally sinking its teeth into live prey. Your lips closed around his shaft, swallowing him with your best, relishing the way his hips jerked at the sudden wet heat. His taste exploded on your tongue—salty, bitter, perfect—and you worked him harder, your tongue plugging
"My beautiful monster," he rasped, his voice strained with pleasure. "My insatiable fox. You finally found a meal that can satisfy you."His hips gave a small, involuntary thrust, and you welcomed it, taking him deeper, your nose pressing into the dark thatch of hair at his base.
His words coiled heat low in your belly. You worked him harder, your tongue swirling around the sensitive head before plunging down his length again, your hand coming up to cradle what your mouth couldn't take. You were devouring him, and he was letting you.
Your final, desperate suckle pushed him over the edge. He came with a broken cry, his rope-shaped columnar sperm flooding your mouth — a burst of flavour so potent, so alive, that it finally, truly quenched the raw hunger that had been gnawing at your soul. You drank him down, lapping gently until he was sensitive and spent, until the last shudders had wracked his frame.
You finally pulled back, panting lightly, your chin glistening. You looked up at him through your lashes, a low, contented purr vibrating in your throat. Seonghwa's eyes were heavy-lidded. He cupped your cheek, his thumb stroking the corner of your mouth.
"You smell good to have a taste of me…" He smiled, a tender, knowing curve of his lips. "And you will never be satisfied with anything less again."
First shower (M)
Like a little human kitten, you groom yourself and avoid baths. Once you become wet, drying off would be hell. Being damp is uncomfortable, and it also causes you to catch a cold. Yet, with Seonghwa, your owner who has mysophobia, taking a shower is inevitable.
"Behave, y/n. Or no seed tonight." Seonghwa warned, raising his voice and crossing his arms, looming over your tiny frame. His patience was wearing thin as you stubbornly refused to enter the tub. Normally, he won't force you, but today was different; you had made a mess in the garden. Your silver-white fur was now stained with dirt, which looked quite disgusting. Not to mention, the floor was littered with your paw prints.
Your ears flattened against your head, and let out a low, rumbling hiss, just like a kitten. But all was useless. He won't back down although his gaze softened. Finally, you obediently lowered yourself, letting him scoop you up to gently place your feet into the warm water, holding you steady as you flinched from the unfamiliar sensation.
"There now," he smiled. "It will be quick. I promise." Seonghwa didn't pour water over you, instead running a shower head on your body slowly. The shampoo was unscented and hypoallergenic, specially ordered for your sensitive skin. He lathered the soap into a rich foam before working it through your dirty fur.
"You dug up my new azaleas, little one," he chided softly, his fingers massaging behind your ears in a way that made your eyes flutter shut despite yourself. "Such a mighty hunter of defenseless flowers." You let out a soft, grumbling purr as if arguing with him.
Seonghwa only chuckled, his hands moving over your shoulder, down the curve of your spin, washing away the grime. He noticed the slight squirm when he touched your small back. You were sensitive. He wondered what reaction you could give him if he took a step further.
Instead of moving down your back, his hands drifted inward, tracing the sensitive line of your collarbone before his thumbs brushed against the soft, neglected swell of your breasts. You tensed, a tiny gasp escaping you, but his hold was firm. "Shhh, just getting all the dirt, little one."
He palmed one breast, his thumb circling the peak with a tantalizing slowness that made your breath hitch. When his fingers finally closed around your nipple, rolling it gently between his thumb and forefinger, a sharp, sweet jolt of pleasure shot straight to your core. You squirmed, not in protest, but in desperate, silent need, a low whine building in your throat.
Seonghwa chuckled darkly, admiring the way your clean, silver-white fur clung to your damp skin, how your body arched ever so slightly into his touch. "So sensitive here too," he observed, his voice dropping to a whisper. He gave the same devoted attention to your other breast, washing and teasing until both nipples were pebbled tight under his ministrations.
His promise of a quick bath was forgotten as his hand continued its journey south, skimming over your trembling stomach. The shower head was set aside, the sound of the running water a distant backdrop to the pounding of your own heart. His fingers, still lathered in hypoallergenic foam, traced the delicate line of your inner thigh.
"You made such a mess," he breathed against your ear. "I have to be thorough"
And then his touch found your core. A single, slick finger slid through your folds, parting them with the flattened pad of his fingertip. You jerked in his arms, a full-body shudder wracking your frame, but he held you fast, cradled against him. He teased your entrance, swirling it with only the tip but never pushed in, then dragging up to skim over your nub that had you pushing back against his hand, seeking more pressure, more friction.
"M…master…" You mewled.
He hushed you softly, his finger finally, slowly slipping inside. "I know," he cooed. "I'll take care of you, and clean you in and out." His movements were slow and deep, as if searching for your limits.
"Stop being naughty, understand?"
"Ye…yes…master…"
"That's my good girl."
And you knew, showering was your favourite now.
A trouble brat
"Love?"
The word, soft and questioning, cut through the metallic quiet of the room. Seonghwa's eyes fell upon your innocent gaze, drifting to your blood-smeared lips, a stark crimson against the pallor of your skin, then down to the lifeless form of the man beneath you on your expensive Egyptian cotton sheets. He didn't even flinch. He immediately knew what happened.
"What the hell is happening here, babe?" He arched an eyebrow, arms folded across his chest. He knew the answer, yet still wanted to listen to your explanation. He wasn't angry, not really. More… exasperated. Like a parent finding their child had finger-painted the walls with jam.
"I'm hungry, you know." That it was, a typical answer.
He let out a long, put-upon sigh, shaking his head slightly as he approached the bed. His gaze flickered to the man's glassy eyes before returning to you.
"Yeah, yeah. I get it. But don't you think you might have gone a bit too far, love? We talked about this. No feeding in the apartment. It ruins the upholstery."
You pouted. You knew it was your greatest weapon against him. Your lips, still slick with another's life, trembled just so as if a kicked puppy. He was cold to anything, anyone, but only you could bring out his soft side. Who told him to fall for a creature like you? It was entirely his fault that you had him wrapped around your little claw.
He chuckled softly, knowing your cunning attempt. The tension in his shoulders eased as he shook his head. "What's with that adorable pout, huh? Are you really going to pout at me after taking out some poor guy who was probably just delivering a pizza?"
"He was from the dating app you hate," you offered, as if this were a point in your favor. "The one with the picture of him holding a fish."
"That doesn't make it better, Y/N." He uncrossed his arms as he stood beside the bed, looking down at me with an expression that was one part weary resignation and two parts overwhelming affection.
You know what happens, love. I get… antsy. And then I get hungry. And then…" You gestured vaguely at the lifeless form, a casual flick of your wrist. "Accidents happen…"
"Accidents, right. This 'accident' is going to be a real pain to clean up, you know." He sighed again.
"You didn't give me your seed for such a long time," You pouted more, looking at him with your puppy-like eyes.
He ran a hand through his dark hair, the gesture a familiar sign of his waning patience. "A long time? It's been four days. I had that quarterly review at work, I told you I'd be drained."
"Oh really?" You scrambled off the body, the sheets squelching beneath you, and crawled across the bed toward him like a kitten demanding attention. "So now it's my fault that you killed some poor guy because I didn't provide you with my seed?" He mimicked your whiny tone, but his eyes were laughing.
You reached him and nuzzled my head against his thigh, leaving a faint crimson smear on his jeans. "Yes. Entirely your fault. I was wasting away."
He sighed again, but this time his hand came down to stroke your hair, his fingers carefully avoiding the matted, sticky parts. "You're a menace. A dramatic, beautiful, terrifying menace." He gently took your chin, tilting your face up. His thumb wiped at the corner of your mouth, smudging the blood. "And you made a mess."
"You'll clean it up," You said, not as a question, but as a statement of fact.
"Of course, I'll clean it up," he murmured, his gaze softening completely. "It's what I do. But you, my little monster, owe me. Big time."
Your pout melted into a slow, satisfied smile. "You know I'll always make up to you."
He leaned down, his lips brushing against my forehead. "Yeah, yeah. But can you promise me not to make a mess next time?"
"hmm…unless you give me a proper meal. Enough to make me feel warm and full, to quiet the buzzing in my head." Your eyes, still wide and innocent, held a flicker of something ancient and demanding. "You know I behave so much better when I'm sated."
"I know, I know. My bad. Work's been crazy, you know how it is. Still, a bit much, don't you think?"
"Hmmm…He looked at me funny. And then he smelled delicious." You leaned closer, supporting yourself with your hands on his thighs. "And you said you liked me being wild, didn't you?"
"That's one way to put it, I suppose." He pecked your cheek before his gaze went back to the corpse. "Alright. First things first. You're going to take a shower. Then, you're going to help me wrap Mr. Fish-Picture in the spare duvet. And then…" He paused, letting his thumb trace your lower lip, collecting the last of the evidence. He brought his thumb to his own mouth, tasting it without a hint of disgust. His eyes darkened. "…then I'll remind you why you shouldn't go looking for appetizers when you have a feast waiting for you at home."
Your hunger, once a gnawing void, shifted into a different kind of craving. A deeper, more pleasant ache that only he could satisfy.
"Okay," You whispered. "But you'd better not be tired this time."
"Don't you worry, babe. For you? I've always got energy to spare." He just smiled, a look of pure, unadulterated love for the monster in his bed. "Just don't complain I feed you too much."
Special Squad Leader Hongjoong x Special Team member Reader ft. Seonghwa and Wooyoung
Warning: Smut|Riding|Unprotected sex|Hongjoong and y/n always arguing (in fun way)| too many i don’t want to list them all haha
Word count: 3.9K
Summary: 4 people but only 2 beds? God damn it…
Nothing could be worse, could it? The mission was a disaster, or you might say it concluded in a dreadful manner. The enemies escaped; both you and Hongjoong were injured badly, with the former covered in cuts and bruises, including a deep gash on their stomach, while the latter suffered a gunshot wound to the left arm. Although these injuries weren't life-threatening, they hurt like hell.
All you wanted was to take a shower and sleep.
Four of you arrived at the safe house, the old, unassuming building stark contrast to the chaotic urban battlefield you'd just left. After quickly sweeping the perimeter, Seonghwa led you all to enter.
The front door creaked open, revealing a sparse living area that doubled as a makeshift command center, complete with a dusty table, a few mismatched chairs, and a flickering light that hummed overhead. The air was stale, smelling faintly of old paper and disinfectant. It wasn't home, but it was safe.
"Looks like you guys had a rough one," Seonghwa stated, taking in your blood-stained clothes and Hongjoong's pale face. Wooyoung just grunted, his gaze fixed on the deep gash visible through the rip in your shirt.
"Understatement of the year," Hongjoong muttered, cradling his injured arm, letting himself fall on the chair with a thud.
"Let's get those wounds cleaned. Wooyoung, stand guard. I don't want any surprises." Seonhgwa was already pulling out a first-aid kit, sitting next to Hongjoong. You leaned on the doorframe, waiting for Seonghwa's help, the adrenaline finally starting to recede, leaving behind a throbbing symphony of aches and pains.
God. How could you sleep in this pain?
The next hour was a blur of antiseptic wipes stinging, bandages being wrapped, and hushed instructions from Seonghwa. The wounds throbbed intensely. Despite taking painkillers and using pain-relieving ointment, the pulsating ache from the injuries and the stinging sensation from the ointment persisted. You and Hongjoong had no option but to bear it.
"Hey guys, I think you won't be happy to see it." Wooyoung said, gesturing to you all to the bedrooms. The bedrooms were just as spartan as the main area – only one cots lined up against the wall in each room, both with a thin mattress and a scratchy blanket.
"What the fuck…" Hongjoong almost yelled, the painfulness of his wounds already made him impatient and annoyed. "Fix this. Now. I'm not sharing a bed with anyone. This is bullshit."
"Well, I can't magically give you a king size bed." Seonghwa made his way to the right-sided bedroom, pressing his fist into the mattress to gauge its softness. "This one is hard like hell. Hongjoong and y/n won't be able to rest on this bed. It'll only aggravate their injuries." He then went to another room to try the other bed, which was also firm, but not quite as unbearable as the first one. "You two share this room."
"We two?" You were shocked.
"Yes, try to get some rest. You two have no choice." Seonghwa said, tidying up the blankets. You and Hongjoong stood there for a moment. looking at the cot. One cot. For two injured people. But you couldn't protest, right?
"Looks like you're stuck with grumpy, y/n…good luck." Wooyoung smirked. Hongjoong shot a deathly glance at him, making him shut up.
A wave of intense fatigue washed over you, overriding any potential awkwardness. This wasn't the time for plea Wooyoung tries or social norms. You were both in pain, both utterly drained.
Hongjoong let out a sigh that was half-whimper, half-resignation. "Well, this is… cozy," he managed, a weak attempt at humor in his voice, before carefully lowering himself onto the cot, favoring his good side.
You didn't hesitate. The thought of collapsing was far more appealing than any protest. You carefully lay down beside him, your back to his good arm, trying to find a position that didn't press against your stomach wound.
The cot sagged slightly under your combined weight, and the flimsy mattress offered little comfort, but it was a surface, flat and still.
Despite Hongjoong's attempts to find a comfortable position, pain in his arm kept him awake. He grunted, shifting again, trying not to swear as he did so. You couldn't help but frown, but silent as the exhaustion stopped you from starting an argument. You moved to the side a bit, shifting closer to the edge of the bed.
"Hey…quit hogging the blanket." Hongjoong grumbled, yanking the blanket toward him to cover his lower body.
You didn't even have the energy for a retort. The stomach was too painful. "I'm barely covered as it is," you mumbled. The blanket, thin and scratchy, barely reached your waist now.
Hongjoong let out another frustrated sigh, a low, pained sound. He couldn't get comfortable, no matter how he shifted. His left arm throbbed relentlessly, and lying on his back or side put pressure on it. He ended up propped slightly on his right side, trying to keep the injured arm elevated, which twisted his body into an awkward, space-consuming pretzel.
As you two began to settle, the sleepiness was driven away by the chaotic thoughts in your mind. Hongjoong's thoughts kept spiraling — the mission, the injury, you. He found himself unable to resist glancing at your profile, pondering which aspect of the mission had faltered, leading to both of your injuries. If he had exercised more caution, might the mission have succeeded? He looked at your chest rise up and down because of steady breathing, then your stomach, an overwhelmed protectiveness suddenly welled up in his heart. He couldn't help but lean a bit closer,admiring how your hair framed your face, how your faint perfume filled up his nostril…Hell, it made him harder to fall asleep.
"Not the time…Kim Hongjoong…" Hongjoong cursed himself silently, closing his eyes to let himself focus on the sleep. But the more he lied there, the more aware he was of you. Your breathing, your body—
"Ugh…" He shifted again, trying to find a position that didn't involve staring at you, or stop those thoughts in his mind.
"You okay?" You murmured.
"Peachy." He let out a sharp exhale.
"You're moving a lot." You sighed. "Is your arm worse?"
Hongjoong hesitated, a strange mix of relief and embarrassment washing over him. He didn't want to admit that the reason for his restlessness wasn't just the physical pain, but the closeness to you.
"It's… it's fine," he lied, his voice a little too quick. "Just can't get comfortable."
"Maybe you try to divert attention? Counting on sheep? It'll be better than twisting?"
"Seriously? It's your best solution?"
"Or what do you want?"
"Fine. Fine. I'll count on sheep, okay?" Hongjoong rolled his eyes, sighing. "Bossy little minx…"
But of course, it did not work. He grew increasingly energetic and irritable, especially when your hair constantly brushes against his face. He couldn't take it anymore. It was too much.
"Hey…" He grumbled. "Change of plan. Shift over. Your damn hair's poking my face. I won't be able to sleep otherwise."
You stirred, a groan escaping your lips. The movement sent a fresh wave of sharp pain through your side. "Can't move much"
"Well, I can't sleep with your hair tickling my eyeballs. Move."
"It's not like I'm doing it on purpose, Hongjoong." You really wanted to slap him. "and my hair is not that long!"
"Oh it is! And it's everywhere. Like a cat shedding on the goddamn furniture. You're lucky I haven't pulled out a pair of clippers and buzzled you bald yet." His tone was sarcastic, but the hint of a smirk on his lips betrayed him. He was messing with you, and he liked it.
"Then what about you! You're like an octopus, sprawling over the bed. Can't even lay still for five seconds. "
"I can't help it, you know?"
"Can't help it," You echoed, rolling your eyes again. "I can't help it, too. Okay? And you're literally hogging the whole bed and I'm on the edge here, about to fall off."
Hongjoong let out a huff. "And whose fault is that? Maybe if you curled up a little smaller, I'd have more room."
"Curl up smaller?" you scoffed, the pain in your stomach making every word a conscious effort. "I'm trying to avoid my insides spilling out, thank you very much."
A beat of silence passed, punctuated by Hongjoong's shallow breaths. Then, softer, a little less barbed with annoyance, you said "fine. I sleep on the floor." You grabbed the pillow and your jacket, about to leave the bed.
"Christ. Are you an idiot? Floor's probably got a spider colony under it, knowing this place." Hongjoong hung over the edge, a pang of guilt welled up in his chest as he watched you lie down on the floor.
"So what can I do? You keep complaining."
"I'm just stating the fact…ugh. Get back up here. Now. You'll catch a cold down there, dumbass."
"But you said…" You hesitated, looking at him. His expression was unreadable in the dim light, but the tone of his voice, though still gruff, held a different kind of edge now – one that wasn't just annoyance. It was a genuine concern.
"I said your hair was annoying, not that I wanted you to freeze your ass off on the floor!" Hongjoong huffed, shifting again, wincing as he did. "Just… come back. Carefully. And try not to… you know… expire."
Slowly, painfully, you pushed yourself up, wincing as you did. You carefully swung your legs back onto the cot, trying to avoid any jarring movements.
"Look at you, it hurts, right? Who told you to get off the bed in the first place?"
"Then who's the one who keeps complaining all the time?" You huffed, kicking his ankle.
"Ouch! Ok, fine. My fault. Happy now?" Hongjoon laid back down after you did so. His gaze lingered on you for a moment longer than necessary, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes.
"Hey, I got an idea."
"What?"
"Turn around." You frowned, having no idea about Hongjoong's thoughts. But still, you turned around slowly, carefully not pressed on your wound, back facing him.
"Good." He mirrored your move also, laying on his good side and suddenly throwing his arm on you to wrap you up. "Now you're my personal bracket."
You blinked, surprised by the sudden closeness and firmness against your back. It was Hongjoong's arm, wrapped securely around your upper chest. His body heat seeped through your thin shirt, a comforting contrast to the chill of the room.
"What are you doing?" You whispered.
"Keeping you from falling off the edge," Hongjoong replied, his voice a low rumble against your ear. "And keeping your spaghetti hair from assaulting my face."
"Spaghetti hair?"
"It's an apt description. It's everywhere." He tightened his grip slightly. "And for the record, it's not uncomfortable anymore. Quite the opposite, actually."
You became quiet, the atmosphere heavy. Yet, as he mentioned, it wasn't awkward in the slightest; at least there was no need to wrestle for the blanket or nudge one another. However, isn't this closeness a bit too personal? What was he going to do?
"Hey…you sure we should sleep like this?"
"What? That's the best for us." He exhaled a bit, his hot breath landing on your nape. "Don't complain and stay still. Unless you have a better idea."
Well, you didn't. You could only allow him to use you as a personal bracket….But how could you sleep like that? Something hard pressed against your hips, or more correctly, your groin.
"You know you pressed on me…?"
"Hm…?…I'm aware…" He said hoarsely, clearly not sober enough to realize what you were referring to. "Can't help it, bunny. You're too stubborn…need to keep you close…"
"I mean your dick! You idiot!"
Everything seemed frozen for a moment, his mind short- circuiting. He'd been so focused on keeping you close, on keeping you from escaping that he didn't even pay attention to the fact that…Shit.
"…Oh. That."
Shit. Shit. Shit. His mind, which had been a chaotic storm of mission failures and anxieties, was now a single, screaming siren of pure panic.
He started to pull away, a clumsy, jerky motion that sent a jolt of pain through his injured arm. A low grunt of pain escaped his lips.
"Stop." You whispered. "You'll tear your stitches."
"Right…" He breathed out and obeyed, not because he wanted to, but because his brain couldn't form a word. The silence that followed was defending, thick with everything he couldn't say.
Finally, he managed to say something. "It's a…a physiological reaction," He stammered. "Adrenaline. Pain meds…and uh…yeah…stress"
You let out a small, incredulous puff of air. "Stress? Hongjoong, that's the worst lie you've ever told."
Hongjoong could only roll his eyes. "Fine. Whatever. Just… ignore it. It'll go away."
"It's a little hard to ignore," you pointed out, your tone dry. "It's practically introducing itself."
"Christ, can you just shut up for five seconds?" He snapped because of embarrassment. "I'm trying not to be that embarrassing, and your comment isn't helping."
"You're right," You replied. "The commentary isn't helping. So what's the plan, Captain? Are we just going to lie here until it salutes and goes away?"
The unexpected humor caused him to let out a choked sound, half-groan, half laugh. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?" He suddenly covered up your mouth with his hand, muffling your surprised gasp. "Since you called me Captain so I supposed you to know the manner and the consequence of pissing me off?"
"Mmph…mmph…mmph!!" (what are you doing?)
"Stay still, dumbass!" He leaned even closer, biting down your earlobe as a punishment. "You force me to dominate you, huh? Always making that sassy comment and now let me show you how to behave."
You went still beneath his hand, your gasp was swallowed. His fingers were splayed against your cheek, his thumb resting near the corner of your lips. You didn't struggle, didn't try to move away; instead, a wicked idea popped up in your mind. Slowly, you parted your lips and flicked your tongue out, dragging the wet tip across the center of his palm.
But he didn't snatch back which surprised you. He actually used this advantage to press his thumb against your bottom lip, parting it further to slide in his fingers. "Suck." You could only follow his command, feeling the rough, calloused ridges of his skin against your tongue, the slight pressure of his knuckles against your teeth. There was the faint, metallic tang of dried blood mixed with the clean, sharp scent of antiseptic clinging to his skin. But strangely, you felt an unexpected desire welled up in your core. You wanted to please him, wanted him to praise you as his good girl.
"That's it…" He drew his fingers out slowly, the wet sound shockingly loud in the quiet room. His hand left your sight, moving down to your waistband, right on your small back. "Clever bunny…much better when you listen to your captain. Now please your captain, would you?"
"Yes…Captain…"
"Good. Turn around, face me." Your body moved slowly, carefully not touching the wounds on both of you. The mattress dipped under your weight as you pushed yourself up, your knees bracketing his lean hips. Now you were the one looming over him.
His good hand came up, fingers tangling in the hair at your nape, his grip firm but not painful. He tugged you down, and the kiss was nothing like you'd ever imagined it would be. It wasn't gentle or hesitant. But a command to let you surrender, let him take the lead. And you relaxed, allowing him to bite your lip, to enter his tongue to swirl with yours.
You finally broke away as the oxygen ran out, gasping for air. His eyes, usually so sharp and calculating, were hazy with a potent cocktail of pain, medication, and raw desire. That hard length was still standing up like a flag under his pants, alluring and semi soaking, making your heart skip a beat when you looked at it.
"Orders, Captain?"
"Shirt. Off. Don't protest and make any comment." He commanded, his voice raspy.
Your fingers, suddenly nimble, went to the button of your thin shirt, unbuttoning them one by one, pulling the shirt off from your body, letting it fall to the floor beside the bed. The cool air hit your bare skin, making your nipples pebble instantly.
Hongjoong's gaze was a physical touch, burning a trail from your neck, over your breasts, down to the waistband of your sleep shorts.
"Yours next," you countered, your voice bolder now. You reached for the hem of his black t-shirt, the one stained with grime and something you prayed wasn't his blood.
He winced as you began to ease it up his torso, his breath hissing between his teeth when the fabric brushed against his bandages. "Careful, bunny," he grunted, but he made no move to stop you.
You were gentle, inching the shirt up his chest, over his uninjured shoulder, and then carefully maneuvering it around the sling that held his arm in place. Once he was free, you tossed it aside.
"Now what?" You whispered softly, your lips ghosting over his.
"Get rid of these," he ordered, his good hand fumbling with the drawstring of your pants. You placed your hand over his, stilling his attempting to untie the knot. His fingers twitched beneath yours before retreating. With practiced ease, you undid the knot and began to push the soft fabric along the underwear down your hips.
"Good girl…" he breathed out, the praise sending a jolt of heat straight to your core. He yanked down his pants, pulling out his arched cock out from the slit of his underwear. The pre-cum glimmered under the faint moonlight as if hungry for your juice to mix with his, hungry for your cunt to wrap around his thickness. "Lower yourself. Slowly. Don't you dare hurt yourself, bunny. That's an order."
There was no more hesitation. You rose to your knees, positioning yourself over him. His good hand cupped your hip, his thumb pressing into the soft flesh as he guided you down. The bulbous cockhead brushed against your entrance, hot and slick with pre-cum, and a gasp let out from your lips.
Inch by agonizing inch, his tip spread your clit into half, immersing himself in your cunt. It was a slow, perfect invasion, stretching you, filling a void you hadn't fully acknowledged until this very moment. Your stomach wound gave a sharp, protesting twinge, and you froze, breath held tight in your chest.
"Breathe." Hongjoong said, his voice tight. His thumb massaged your hip in a soothing circle. "Just…breathe through it. Tell me if it's too much."
You shook your head, your hair falling around your face like a curtain. It wasn't too much. You just needed time to adjust the faint throb of pain on your stomach and the coiling pleasure collided inside your core.
Starting at a slow pace, you raised your body up, watching his cock being pulled out, then sinking down until his ball stopped at your groin. Then you found a steady rhythm, rocking your hips in a languid circle, learning the shape of him, listening to the pleasured sounds he made. His pupils were blown wide, his head thrown back against the pillow as a guttural groan was torn from his throat.
"C'mon bunny, more." he grunted, his knuckles white where he gripped you. You leaned forward, bracing your hands on his uninjured shoulder, pushing harder, faster but not overwhelmed your injured body. He arched his back, plunging you full with throbbing cock, meeting your every descent with a powerful upward thrust that had you gasping.
"Fuck, that's it, bunny… just like that," he rasped, his voice raw, his good hand sliding from your hip to your lower back, pressing you down, urging you to take him deeper, to bury him completely.
"No…I…I can't…my stomach…"
He immediately stopped his relentless thrusts, almost forgetting about your wounded stomach. Sitting up, he cupped one side of your face and kissed your forehead. "Sorry, let me take care of you." He eased you up gently, his good hand sliding under your back, supporting you as he helped you shift, carefully laying you flat on your back, your legs still loosely straddling his hips. He then propped himself up on his good elbow, his arm taking his weight, allowing him to lean over you without pressing down on your stomach. His gaze was intense, scanning your face for any sign of discomfort, a furrow between his brows.
"How's this, bunny?" His free hand, the one that had just been tangled in your hair, now stroked a soothing path along your side, careful to avoid your bandaged midriff.
"Better, Joong," You nodded, letting out a soft sigh. Your legs tightened around his waist, pulling him closer, inviting him deeper.
"Good. Now, focus on me."
He left your right leg on his shoulder, lifting it and hooking it over the strong line of his deltoid. The new angle was startling, opening you up to him even more, stretching your already sensitive entrance around his thick length. A soft moan escaped your lips as he leveraged the position, pushing deeper, filling you to a depth you hadn't felt before. He rocked his hips against yours, rubbing your wall with his shaft, a soft grind that intensified the friction, making your muscles clench around him.
Every rock of his hips sent a shockwave of pleasure radiating from your core, a perfect counterpoint to the dull, manageable ache in your abdomen. Your mind was collapsing, crashing, and only he could take you over the edge.
"Joong…" His name fell from your lips, not a cry but a breathless prayer.
"I know, y/n." he grunted breathlessly. His forehead dropped to yours, his eyes squeezing shut as he was closed as well. "I've got you, Let go. I'll catch you."
His thumb found your clit, circling with a pressure that was exquisitely precise, and that was all it took. The coil of heat in your belly snapped. Your back arched off the bed as much as your wound would allow, a silent, searing cry caught in your throat as the orgasm tore through you, milking his cock in relentless, pulsing waves.
The sensation of your tight, fluttering cunt was his undoing. A ragged groan was torn from his chest as his own control shattered. He buried himself to the hilt, his body seizing as he spilled himself deep inside you with a series of powerful, shuddering thrusts.
He shifted to lie beside you, on his good side, careful not to put weight on your stomach. His throbbing cock still nestled deep inside you, twitching slightly as the aftermath of excitement still took over. He studied your face before leaning in to peck your lips.
"No more sassy comments tonight?"
"No, Hongjoong."
"What should you call me again?"
"C'mon, I've been calling you by your name for a long time. Do you mind now?"
"Ugh, you can't really behave without being sassy for a second."
"You know you love me being like that."
"Yes, yes, bossy bunny."
"Grumpy Captain."
"Now sleep. Get some rest." He pulled the rumpled blanket over both of you, his injured arm hovering your body again.
"In this position?"
"What? Don't complain."
"But your dic—"
"Shut up, or I'll fuck you one more time." Well, you didn't know whether you should shut up. But seeing him fall asleep within a minute, fine, let's get under his skin next morning.
Deer Hybrid Exchange student Yeosang x Deer Hybrid Reader
Warning: Smut|Unprotected sex|Vanilla sex|creampie|make out|oral|love at first sight
Word count: 6.5K
Summary: You're not really into love and don't want to casually hook up. But, you still use pheromone perfume to draw in hybrids because your friend asked you to. You ended up being an assistant to the exchange student, which is how you met him - the guy who made you fall head over heels at first sight, Yeosang.
"Haven't you found your mate?" Your friend, Emma asked as you stuffed the belongings inside the bag, neatly and well-organized.
"No. I'm not interested in being in a relationship." You replied quietly, clearly showing no interest in this topic which she has asked multiple times.
"Really?" She leaned closer, as if searching for any lies or dishonesty in your eyes.
"Really."
"Oh, it will disappoint many boys."
"Not my business." You responded with an icy demeanor.
You were a deer hybrid, a rare species that is famous for beauty and pureness. From the moment you arrived on campus, you became the center of attention, with countless admirers flooding your locker with love notes. Yet, you brushed them aside without a second thought. The truth was clear: none of them was your soulmate, and their presence stirred no emotions within you.
"Fine. Can you go shopping with me? Tomorrow, some students from abroad are coming to visit." Your friend tugged at your sleeve, pleading with wide eyes and swaying her long black tail.
"Okay, okay. But what does shopping have to do with those students?"
"Of course!Don't you know that? There is a group called ATEEZ and they are so freaking handsome!"
"So what? You gonna buy some beautiful dresses and cosmetics?"
"No,no,no! It's not enough." Your friend leaned closer to whisper in your ear. "I need to buy pheromone perfume."
"What? What if you attract other hybrids you don't like?"
"Calm down, calm down. It's gonna be alright!I heard there is a cat hybrid that is the same as me!"
Sighed, you rolled your eyes on her. Anyway, she won't listen to anything you say.
"Okay, just go shopping then."
At first, you had no plans to shop, but somehow she convinced you to pick up a few skirts. They were surprisingly beautiful, though. While you were organizing your belongings, you discovered a bottle of pheromone perfume hidden in your bag. A quick call to your friend revealed it was a present for you. You felt a bit uncertain. Despite insisting that love wasn't on your radar, a flicker of desire to find your soulmate.
As you examined the perfume in your palm, curiosity bubbled up inside you. "It can't hurt to try, can it?" After a moment of uncertainty, you twisted off the cap of the bottle and lightly misted it onto your neck, just a little.
"It's not a big deal, right?" A wave of unease washed over you. What if you've attracted someone with bad intent? Yet, the deed was done, and there was no turning back. Worrying about it was futile; it won't change anything. You sank into the bed, feeling helpless, and before long, sleep claimed you.
—----
The morning sunlight poured into the campus garden, while the delicate scent of daffodils blended with the sweet fragrances of fruits, creating an atmosphere of calm and delightful. A group of exchange students had also come early.
"That's a nice place." Yunho declared, looking around the campus with curiosity. Hailing from 'Wonderland,' a place not far from your homeland 'Utopia,' they were set to spend three months as exchange students.
"Absolutely! There are so many trees and flowers here, just like a real forest," Yeosang chimed in. He was a deer hybrid, too.
"Do you enjoy it?" Wooyoung inquired, draping his arm casually over Yeosang's shoulder.
"Yah, I like it." Yeosang replied, his face lighting up with a grin.
"And those girls over there," San leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Look at how they're all staring at you."
A cluster of girls gathered nearby, their eyes fixed on Ateez. A few of them adjusted their outfits or even pulled them down to show their bare shoulders, trying to catch their attention with alluring appearances. Yet, they were just like a flock of chicks excitedly chirping at insects in their eyes.
"Oh my god!They are so handsome!" "I need to get their numbers!" "Do they have mates?" "I hope they don't"
As Yeosang caught sight of the girls waving at him like they were in a frenzy, he felt a rush of shyness and quickly turned his gaze away.
"Is he a deer hybrid?"
"Wow! So he is the same as Y/N? They will be matched."
Despite the clamor around him, Yeosang managed to hear her voice clearly. Y/N? A deer hybrid? That was certainly uncommon. He quietly jotted down your name, pondering that if fate allowed, he would love to learn more about you.
"Looks like the girls are really making a scene," Jongho teased, a smirk playing on his lips as the girls erupted into cheers. "I think it's time for us to head back to the dorm."
"Yeah, yeah, or they will eat you, Yeosang." Seonghwa joked.
"Hey no. Yeosang is mine and I'll protect him at all costs." San hugged Yeosang from behind, blocking all the girl's sights and pulling him away.
Others just shook their heads, already getting used to San's possessiveness and clinginess.
"Hey, Y/N!Hurry up!I can't wait to see them!" Your friend urged you outside your room. "They are heading to the dorm!" You both signed up to be assistants (you were not willing though), mainly supporting the exchange students as they navigated the ins and outs of college life. Once they got themselves organized, you two would take them on a tour of the campus.
"Calm down." You opened the door. "We won't be late. The meeting time is 10, and it's only 9:30 now. "
"But we can go there earlier to see them!"
"Why do you sound like a pervert?"
"C'mon!Let's go!" Ignoring your words, Emma who had her heart set on going to ATEEZ's dorm, dragging you to go out. You had no interest in spying on others' daily life, so you decided to go your separate ways, strolling over to the coffee shop for a caffeine fix.
As you walked, you stumbled upon a group gathered around a massive map.
"So where are we now?" Mingi looked at the map, feeling confused.
"Umm?Here?" Seonghwa remarked.
"No. We should be here." Hongjoong countered. They couldn't believe they would get lost on campus! The campus was too big!
"Goodness. Is there someone to help us?" San's voice rang out, cutting through the chatter.
"No one would drop from the sky even if you yell." Wooyoung couldn't help but roll his eyes.
"Hey!I just—"
"Do you guys need help?" Your sudden gentle voice drew their attention, causing them to turn and look at you.
The moment Yeosang's eyes met yours, an electrifying sensation coursed through him, as if a current had surged through his veins. Time seemed to freeze; your captivating beauty and enchanting fragrance pulled him in like a powerful magnet, quickening his heartbeat and leaving him momentarily spellbound.
"Ah…we seem to have lost our way," Yeosang admitted, taking a step closer. His sudden boldness surprised everyone, as he was known for his introvert. "Maybe you know the way to the dorm?"
A slight blush warmed your cheeks, a novel sensation that felt both foreign and strangely welcome. "Of course," Your voice was softer than intended. "You're the exchange students, aren't you? I'm Y/N, one of your assistants."
The name hung in the air for a moment. San nudged Wooyoung, a knowing smirk spreading across his face. "Y/N," he mouthed silently. "The one they were talking about."
But Yeosang was oblivious to his friends' antics. He was completely captivated, his gaze fixed on you as if you were the only person on the sprawling campus. "I'm Yeosang," he said, his voice low enough to surprise you. "It's… really nice to meet you."
"You too…" The words were barely a whisper. You cleared your throat, forcing yourself to break the intense eye contact and address the whole group. "The dorm is this way. Follow me."
As you turned and began to walk, Yeonsag fell into step beside you, a comfortable silence settling between you two while his friends trailed a few paces behind. The air around you seemed to shimmer, thick with an unspoken energy. That was not because of the perfume or the scent in the garden, but something deeper, more primal. You couldn't help but wonder, is it a so-called soulmate?
You shook your head, attempting to throw away the unrealistic thought and Yeosang suddenly spoke.
"So…you're a deer hybrid, too…"
You nodded, glancing at the delicate antlers that were just visible through his soft brown hair, so similar to your own. "They're not very common around here. I was surprised to hear there was another one among the exchange students."
"I was surprised, too," he admitted, his eyes finding yours again. "Back in Wonderland, we're a bit more common. But still… not like this."
Behind them, Wooyoung leaned into San. "I've never seen him start a conversation with a stranger so fast. He hasn't even mentioned his drone once."
Jongho chuckled quietly. "I don't think a drone is on his mind right now."
Hongjoong, ever the leader, shot them a fond but silencing look, content to watch the scene unfold.
When you arrived at the international student dorm, your friend, Emma, practically burst out of the front door. "Y/N! There you are! I was getting worried, I thought you got lost on your way from the coffee shop and— oh."
Her words died in her throat as she gazed at you, then Yeosang who stood a little too close to you, and back to you with an evil smirk. You shot her a warning glare, but she ignored it.
"Oh," she mouthed, unable to hold back her huge grin to you before turning her attention to the rest of the group. "Welcome~I'm Emma~ your other assistant!" Her gazes landed on San and Wooyoung, the same cat hybrids as her. She knew it was her time to show on.
Later, during the campus tour, the group naturally separated. Mingi and Yunho were marveling at the small forest, taking photos, Seonghwa was cleaning the dorm, Hongjoong and Jongho were taking naps already, Emma was shamelessly flirting with San and Wooyoung. It left you and Yeosang to fall behind as you walked through the university's botanical gardens.
He gestured to a vibrant bed of roses. "It's beautiful here," he said, but his gaze was on you. "I think I understand why they say Utopia is so peaceful."
"Yeah…that's what we're proud of…"
An awkward silence surrounded both of you but that was not uncomfortable. It was like two primal energies were mingling, colliding, alluring each other to break through the boundaries. What it needed was just a snap.
"May I know what perfume you are wearing? It smells good…or is it your own scent?" He managed to stammer, as if bracing himself for a while to ask this a bit sensitive question, breaking the silence.
He knew scent was a sensitive topic between the hybrids, especially deers. He silently prayed that you won't feel any discomfort.
"Oh…it's my perfume…" you started, your voice hesitant. You instinctively touched the spot on your neck where you'd sprayed the perfume. "You think it's…it's nice?"
Yeosang's expression softened. He reached out and gently captured your hand, stopping your fingers from touching your neck. His touch was warm, solid, and incredibly grounding. There it was, the snap. All your carefully constructed walls, all your declarations of disinterest, were crumbling to dust. The icy demeanor you'd worn for years felt like a costume for a person you no longer were.
"The perfume?" He shook his head slightly, a small smile playing on his lips. "It might have… raised the volume. But the music was already playing." His thumb stroked the back of your hand, sending shivers up your arm. "I heard your name before I even saw you. I was hoping I'd get to meet the other deer hybrid on campus. But I never imagined—"
"There you two are!" The cheerful shriek shattered Yeosang's words. Emma bounced over, San and Wooyoung flanking her like twin jesters, both with knowing grins plastered on their faces. "Admiring the roses? Or have you just been admiring each other this whole time?"
You and Yeosang sprang apart as if electrocuted, though his fingers lingered against yours for a fraction of a second too long. The blush that had been a gentle warmth on your cheeks now blazed like a forest fire. Emma's cat-like eyes darted down to where your hands had been and her smile widened, a silent, triumphant 'I knew it!' passing between her and her new friends.
The rest of the group also came over.
"Did we miss anything?" Yunho asked, lowering his camera.
"I think the tour was a great success," Hongjoong smirked, his gaze flickered between you and suddenly flustered Yeosang. "Y/N, Emma, thank you for showing us around. Perhaps you'd let us treat you to dinner tonight? As a proper thank you for rescuing us."
Before you could even form a response, Emma answered for both of you. "We would absolutely love to! We're totally free!" She shot you a look that dared you to object.
You swallowed, your eyes darting over to Yeosang. He was looking at you, a hopeful, almost timid expression on his face that made your heart perform a strange little flip, the crimson you thought had subsided came roaring back. "Yeah…" You nodded. "Dinner sounds great…"
"Good. We'll meet you both back here at seven?" Hongjoong smiled.
The hours leading up to dinner were a flurry of Emma-induced chaos. She tore through your closet with the energy of a storm, holding up outfits and discarding them with dramatic sighs.
"No, too casual! This isn't a study group," she'd declare, tossing a favorite hoodie aside. "And this is too formal! You're not meeting his parents… yet." She punctuated the last word with a wiggle of her eyebrows.
"Emma, it's just dinner," you protested, trying to rescue a sweater from the growing pile on your bed. But your protest was weak.
"Where's the skirt you bought yesterday?"
"What? In the closet–"
"Take it out! And Wear it! Oh! You gotta put on some make up!"
"Emma…"
"No protest! Go change!" Emma walked to your desk to grab the pheromone perfume. "Use it. As much as possible!"
Sighed, you could only wear the dress she chose for you and put on some make up. When seven o'clock rolled around, you met the group outside the dorm. Yeosang was dressed in a simple black sweater that somehow made him look even more striking. His eyes found yours immediately, thinking you were absolutely beautiful, and a silent, charged greeting passed between you.
Hongjoong led the way to the outdoor camping place. The ten of you filled a long table in a corner, and as if by some unspoken tacit agreement, you found yourself seated next to Yeosang. Across the table, Emma was already deep in a laughing debate with San and Wooyoung over who had the sharpest claws, all three gesticulating wildly.
The dinner time passed slowly between chatting and laughing. You and Yeosang couldn't help but steal glances at each other, and immediately moved away when the gaze met. As you both reached for the bread basket in the centre of the table, your fingers brushed. The same electric jolt from the morning shot up your arm, but this time it was warmer, more familiar. Neither of you pulled away immediately. His gaze dropped to your joined hands for a moment before lifting back to your eyes, a universe of unspoken questions and answers passing between you.
"Hey~hey~ how about we play truth or dare?" Emma suddenly exclaimed as she saw the silent conversation between you and Yeosang. She was planning something.
"Oh! That's a good idea. Let me find the bottle." Wooyoung placed the empty bottle on the table. "I start first!" He spinned the bottle with all his might, the bottle swirling quickly until the tip stopped in front of Emma.
"Truth or Dare, Emma?"
"Dare," she chirped, leaning forward with her chin propped in her hands.
Wooyoung's eyes widened, a matching glint of mischief in them. He looked around the table, his gaze landing on San, who was still mock-glaring at Emma. "Okay," Wooyoung said, drawing out the word. "I dare you… to give San a dramatic, five-second kiss on the cheek."
What the hell? That excited? You thought, watching Emma leaned closer to San who squawked in protest (but actually smiling), planting a loud, smacking kiss on his cheek, counting down from five with deliberate slowness.
You couldn't help but worry about what they were gonna ask you to do…
"Five… four… three… two… one!" She released him with a flourish, and he wiped his cheek dramatically, though the corner of his mouth was twitching upwards.
"My turn!" Emma grabbed the bottle, her eyes flicking to you for a split second before she spun the bottle with a flick of her wrist.
It slowed, the green glass glinting under the string lights. It passed Mingi, then Jongho, then ticked past Hongjoong. It was slowing to a crawl, hovering between you and Yeosang. Your breath hitched. With one final, lazy turn, the neck of the bottle came to a stop, pointing directly at you.
A chorus of "Oooohs" went around the table. Emma's smile was blinding. "Well, well, well," she smirked like an evil. "Truth or Dare, my lovely Y/N?"
You glanced at Yeosang, who was watching you with an unreadable expression. Choosing Truth felt like a death sentence. Emma could ask anything. Is it true you can't stop thinking about the guy next to you? Choosing Dare felt like surrendering your fate entirely. But looking at Emma's triumphant face, you knew a Truth question would be far more humiliating.
"Dare…"
Emma's smile widened, if that was even possible. This was it. The culmination of her entire evening's work. "I dare you," she said, her eyes flickering between you and Yeosang. "… to finish what you started with the bread basket."
A wave of confusion washed over the table, followed by a ripple of understanding. Your own brain blanked for a second before the memory of your hands touching, fingers tangled together, flashed behind your eyes.
Your face burned.
"Hold Yeosang's hand. And don't let go for the next three rounds of the game."
The table erupted. Wooyoung howled with laughter, slapping San's back. Hongjoong just shook his head, a fond smile playing on his lips. Mingi let out a low whistle. The chaos was a smokescreen, but you felt utterly exposed, pinned by the gaze of all of them.
You risked a glance at Yeosang – he wasn't laughing, just watching you with a smile that was hard to spot. "Y/N, hold my hand." He said and slowly, deliberately, extended his hand, palm up, on the table between you.
It was all the permission you needed.
Your hand felt impossibly heavy as you lifted it from your lap, reaching across the small space separating you. Yeosang met you halfway. His fingers, long and cool, slide against your palm, slotting between your own as if they were made to be there. He gave your hand a gentle squeeze, a silent reassurance. The jolt was back, but this time it was a steady, humming current that flowed up your arm and settled warmly in your chest.
"There!" Emma declared, clapping her hands together. "Was that so hard? Now, whose turn is it?"
The game continued. Jongho had to sing the chorus of a children's song in his deepest voice, Seonghwa had to truthfully rank everyone's fashion sense (he put Hongjoong last, to a chorus of boos), and Yunho had to perform a dance with two forks as his props.
At first, it felt strange, this public display of connection. You were hyper-aware of every slight shift of his fingers, the warmth of his skin, the comforting weight of his hand holding yours. But as the minutes ticked by, it became the most natural thing in the world. Yeosang would absentmindedly trace patterns on the back of my hand with his thumb while listening to a story from Mingi. You found yourself squeezing his hand when a dare made you laugh particularly hard. It was a silent conversation happening in parallel to the loud, boisterous one around us.
Your three rounds came and went. Jongho was dared to eat a lemon wedge without flinching, and Wooyoung's turn came around again. Technically, the dare was over. You could pull your hand away. The thought was a flicker of panic. You didn't want to.
Neither, it seemed, did he.
His grip didn't loosen. His thumb continued its lazy circles. You were no longer bound by Emma's dare, but by a choice, a mutual unspoken agreement to let this moment last a little longer.
As Wooyoung dared San to serenade a nearby tree, Yeosang leaned in closer, his shoulder brushing against yours. The scent of his cologne, a subtle mix of sandalwood and something crisp like autumn air, enveloped you. It smelled nothing like the sweet, almost cloying pheromone perfume Emma had doused you in. It smelled real. It smelled like him.
"So…" He murmured, his voice so low it was clearly meant only for you. "You wore more? The pheromone perfume. Was that Emma's idea?"
Your head whipped toward him, your eyes wide. Was it too much? Oh. Did he find it smelly?
"Uh…yah.."
"It's nice." He only smiled, his gaze dropping back to your joined hands. "But you don't need it."
A blush you couldn't control crept up your neck. "Oh," was all you could manage, your voice barely a whisper.
"Or do you want to attract anyone?"
"What…?! I…I…" Panic set in as his name lingered on your tongue, nearly escaping your lips. Just when uncertainty overwhelmed you, Hongjoong stopped the game as they were too noisy.
"Alright, alright, before we get kicked out," he laughed, starting to gather the empty plates. "I think it's time to call it a night."
A collective groan went through the group, but everyone began to stir. As you stood up, a small, ridiculous pang of panic shot through you. This meant letting go.
As if sensing your thought, Yeosang's grip tightened for a fraction of a second before he reluctantly released your hand. The cool night air felt foreign against your suddenly empty palm as you shrugged on your jacket. The absence of his warmth was immediate and acute.
The group spilled out onto the street, the cool breeze a welcome relief. Laughter and conversation swirled as they decided who was heading where. Amidst the friendly chaos, you felt a presence slide up beside you.
"I can walk you to your dorm," Yeosang said softly, casually, as if he'd said it a thousand times before.
"Okay," You breathed, nodding. "Do you wanna…have a seat?" The phrasing tumbled out clumsily, the awkwardness of your own nerves obvious even as you tried to sound casual.
"Yah…that's for sure." he replied, the faintest smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.
The night was quiet, the only sound was a soft whisper from a small fountain. None of you spoke, just enjoying the comfortable silence until you two reached the door of your dorm.
"So, that's your room?"
"Yeah…please don't mind if it's—" Your words hung up in the air as the chaos of your room revealed in front of Yeosang. Clothes were strewn across the floor in a kaleidoscope of colors, half‑folded shirts perched on the edge of the dresser, and a lone sneaker lay abandoned like a fallen soldier. The closet doors were ajar, revealing a chaotic avalanche of garments that had been shoved in there after Emma's "quick makeover" earlier in the night.
Yeosang slowed his step, eyes flickering over the mess with a bemused raise of his eyebrows.
"Looks like someone had a… creative evening," he said, his voice a low rumble that somehow managed to sound both teasing and tender…or no, only mocking.
"It's…it's…Emma…we…ugh…have…she had a plan…" You managed to stammer, immediately tidy up the clothes, folding them and shoving them to the right place. At least to empty a place for Yeosang to sit down. "I swear my room is very clear…it's just she threw all the clothes away from my closet and I don't have time to tidy up."
The manner in which you desperately attempted to clarify things was somewhat amusing, yet Yeosang merely smiled and nodded. Oh no, will he perceive you as messy and develop a dislike for you? What should I do? What should I do? What should I do?
"Hey," he said, his voice calm and steady. "It's okay. You can stop."
"But it's a disaster," you whispered, gesturing helplessly at the controlled chaos. "You can't even sit down."
He surveyed the room again, his eyes finally landing on the edge of your bed, the one clear space amidst the wreckage. "Looks like there's a spot right there." Without another word, he moved past you, his shoulder brushing yours in the narrow space, and sat down on the corner of your duvet. He patted the space beside him, an unspoken invitation.
Your heart did a frantic little flip-flop. You took a hesitant step, then another, before perching stiffly on the edge of the mattress next to him, a careful foot of distance between you.
"So we didn't get to finish our conversation."
You swallowed, your throat suddenly dry. "Conversation?"
"About the perfume," He teased, you swore you could see he was trying to hold back the smirk. "You were going to tell me if you were trying to attract anyone."
"No!" The word came out too loud, too fast. You took a breath, trying to reel yourself in. "No. It was Emma's idea. She called it 'Operation: Get Y/N a Date.' It was awful. I felt like I was marinating in a fruit stand all night."
"I thought so," he said, finally smiling. "It didn't smell like you."
"It… didn't?"
He shook his head, his dark hair falling slightly over his forehead. "No. At the restaurant, when you were laughing at Yunho's fork-dance… I could smell it then. The real scent." He paused, as if trying to find the right words. "It's… clean. Like fresh paper and maybe chamomile tea. It's quiet. The perfume was loud."
You stared at him, speechless. He had been paying that much attention? He remembered the way you smelled? Or even…he could smell your real scent? But apart from mate, no one could. So…he…?
"Chamomile tea…is…is my scent.."
"I know.."
The space between you no longer felt like a chasm. It felt charged, electric. He leaned in, just a fraction of an inch. The memory of his hand in yours, the easy, comfortable weight of it, came rushing back. On instinct, you unfurled your own hand, which had been clenched into a fist in your lap.
"Y/N…" The soft whimper of your name left his lips, so softly, gently, making you almost fainted. As if he could read your mind, he slowly intertwined his hand with yours, the warm sensation from his fingertips spreading on the back of your hand.
Closer… closer…
CLINK—
The bottle of pheromone perfume rolled off the table, breaking into pieces upon hitting the surface. The fragrance inside erupted, drenching the garments scattered on the floor. The crash echoed like the breaking of reason. Your chamomile tea-scented pheromones mingled with his floral tea, merging into a toxic blend that ignited longing. He pressed you down onto the bed with a thud, holding your shoulder tightly.
You instinctively closed your eyes as he bent closer. He brushed his antlers against yours, then placed a gentle kiss on your lips, followed by your neck, and finally, he softly nibbled your chin which sent a jolt through your entire being, a warm tremor that started at your jawline and spread like wildfire through your lower belly. You whimpered, a soft, involuntary sound that seemed to encourage him. His antlers, sleek and smooth, tangled briefly with the base of your own as he shifted, deepening the kiss.
Yeosang pulled back just enough for his gaze to meet yours, reflecting a hunger that mirrored their own. He said nothing but divided down to trace the curve of your neck with his nose, leaving a soft gasp stuck in your throat as he inhaled deeply, hungrily.
You knew what that meant, you knew too much. That was the invitation of mating in deer hybrids —touching antlers, kissing—and now there it was. The third stage. The sniffing of the scent.
He moved slowly and lower, until his nose rested on the base of the nape where your scent glands were most potent. God, he wanted to bite down, to mark you as his mate but no, he had to be patient to prevent scaring you. You could feel the air was being drawn into his lungs which made you dizzy. Or was it because of his pheromone? You didn't know but it didn't matter. You would let him do anything he wanted as long as he could fill you full, dry you milk, and sink you in his scent.
"You smell so good…like a spring rain…I love it…" he murmured, the words were not clear as his mouth pressed against your pulse. You suddenly realised he wasn't referring to the perfume but your true scent, amplified, awakened, which only mate could smell it.
Again, he lifted up to look at you, a silent question passing between you. Both of you found you two couldn't speak, couldn't form a coherent thought. All you could do was meet his gaze and nodded imperceptibly, as if answering an unheard question. He moved slightly, lowering himself down the bed, gently nudging your legs apart. You instinctively tensed, a fleeting moment of self-preservation, but your body betrayed you, arching subtly into his touch, your fingers, still clasped in his, tightening almost painfully.
His soft brown hair brushed against your stomach with his warm breath ghosted over your most sensitive skin. Reaching your waistband as a signal to command you to lift up your hips, he directly yanked them down smoothly.
A gasp tore from your throat, raw and uncontrolled, as the cool air touched skin that had been covered only moments before. Your pants and underwear were peeled away, tossed carelessly onto the already cluttered floor, joining his clothes in a heap.
His breath was warm and moist against your core, sending shivers through you that had nothing to do with the cool air. Before you could say anything, the wet, hot, overwhelmed sensation surrounded your arched cunt, a pure and electrifying shooting through you, He closed his lips around your slick, swollen entrance, sticking out his tongue to slip the tip between the folds, humping them slightly before licking up to skim over the clitoris.
Your back arched instinctively, a silent scream building in your chest, caught somewhere between pleasure and overwhelming vulnerability. It was the fourth stage and you agreed with him to do it further. He was too skilled and you felt like in heaven. He lavished attention on you, his tongue delving deeper, teasing, swirling, creating a suction that pulled at your insides.
Your fingers, still intertwined with his, squeezed so hard you worried you might bruise him, but he only tightened his grip in response, anchoring you to the moment. He circled your clitoris, teasing its swollen tip before dragging the flat of his tongue across its entire length, pulling back just slightly as if to prolong the exquisite agony.
A whimper, louder this time, left your lips. You didn't like his tease, it was not enough. What you needed was a rough, raw, messy make out that could bring you to the edge and collapse. Of course, he knew you. The way your hips bucked instinctively was a clear signal. He responded to your silent demand, quickening his pace, his tongue becoming bolder, more assertive. His hands left yours to grab your inner knees firmly, pressing them up to your chest, exposing your glimmer cunt to him.
He was no longer teasing; he was devouring. The flat of his tongue pressed down, milking your engorged clitoris, then pulled back, only to plunge forward again, a rhythmic assault that stole the air from your lungs. He sucked and lapped, his mouth a hot, wet cavern, creating a vacuum that tugged at your very core.
"Ah… Yeosang…" you moaned, your voice barely recognizable. Your hips began to buck wildly, seeking for release. You clawed at the sheets, your nails digging into the soft fabric, unable to find purchase. Your mind was a total mess as he pushed you to the edge with a soft bite, that was the only thing you needed for release. Your entire body spasmed, a violent, pleasurable convulsion that rocked you from head to toe. Your back arched impossibly high, a silent scream of release echoing in the room, your legs shaking uncontrollably and collapsing back onto the mattress.
Yeosang lifted his head, his chest heaving, a thin strand of saliva connecting his lips to your glistening core before it snapped. With a low groan, a call of a buck during courtship, he pulled himself up your body, his weight deliciously heavy as he settled between your thighs, lining his shaft against your cunt.
His flattened hand moved around your soaked clit, collecting the juices as the lube to moisten his cock with veins popped up. Then he slid under your buttocks, lifting you just enough to align himself. He didn't push in yet but held your inner knees firmly, swirling his hips to guide his blunt pressure rubbing your clit, feeling the pulsation under the shaft.
"My beautiful fawn…" he smiled, then inhaled deeply, drawing your scent into his lungs, a soundless declaration. With a slow, deliberate push, he began to enter.
A sharp intake of breath left your lips as the first, heavy pressure met your leaking opening. He paused, giving you time to adjust, his eyes searching yours for any sign of discomfort. There was tightness, yes, a glorious, exquisite stretch, but no pain. Only a profound sense of fullness.
You urged him on with a small, guttural sound, your hips tilting up slightly to meet him. Without being told a second time, he slowly, inch by inch, slid deeper, until the tip of his shaft disappeared inside, finally buried himself to the hilt, a perfect fit that felt as if he had been made to occupy this space within you.
He was not as large as those monsters you saw in the forest, but the stretch was perfect, even a bit overwhelmed. Your cunt, still tender from your previous climax, pulsed and throbbed, sucking his thick shaft in as if welcoming him with an embrace. He held still for a long moment, until he felt your muscle less tense.
"Relax, y/n. Let me take care of it." Following a breathless moan, he pulled his hips back and bucked them forward carefully. Slow at first, a shallow rocking motion that began to build a new kind of friction which your fingers couldn't provide, neither any toys. He was gentle, kissing every part of your cervix with a light touch, but not colliding with you roughly everywhere just to make you scream.
"Oh fuck…" You gasped, you loved every moment of it. You instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him even closer, wanting to feel every last millimeter of him. Taking it as a signal, he slid his hands underneath your thighs, again, pushing them up to your chest, resting your calves on his shoulder. The previous climax had left you really sensitive, and this new invasion amplified every nerve ending.
His thrusts deepened, no longer just shallow presses but full strokes that withdrew almost free before plunging into your slick depths. The sounds escaping your throat spur him on to utterly ravage you, channeling every ounce of blood in his body to his erection. This is no mere fantasy; with every thrust, you can feel him growing larger and firmer, as if he is attempting to shape your vagina to fit his size.
"Yeosang…oh, Yeosang…yes…there…"
He found your sweet spot, hitting it with every deep thrust, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your very core. Both of you were panting, sweat glistening on your skin, hair damp and tangled. The air vibrated with your moans, groans, the unbearable desire that had sparked in the quiet of the night almost reached their peak.
He suddenly brought your legs close to each, making your cunt tighter around his shaft. His hips tilted slightly as he found a new angle. The pressure intensified, a sweet torment that made you gasp and writhe. He was shoving, not pushing, kissing, but determined to send his seed inside every corner of your little cunt.
"Almost there," he groaned, his voice rough with exertion, the tendons in his neck taut as he struggled to hold back. You could only grab the mattress tightly, clenching the fist around the fabric to steady yourself from the quick thrust. His thrusts became erratic, losing their rhythm as pleasure coiled tight in his belly, threatening to snap. You could feel him twitching inside you, the swollen veins along his shaft pulsing in time with your own frantic heartbeat.
Until the mad thrust suddenly paused as he nestled himself to the hilt one last time, his hips stuttering as his release crashed over him. The hot spill of his cum filled you in thick, possessive pulses. Your own orgasm tore through you a second later, your walls clamping around him as you arched off the bed with a broken cry, pleasure radiating through every nerve ending.
He pushed one, two times before collapsing against you, bruising his head into a crook of your neck, steadying his breathing. "God…" He muttered hoarsely, pressing a lazy kiss on the dip of your neck before raising his head. "That's amazing…"
You laughed breathlessly, still trembling from the aftershocks, and ran your fingers through his sweat-damp hair. "You're going to ruin me…"
He smirked, shifting just enough to slide out of you, his softened cock leaving your well-used cunt with a slow, sticky glide. His fingers traced idle circles over your hip. The smell of pheromones slowly dissipated, and sanity returned. Yet, none of you loosened the grip on each other. A bond built between you two forever and immortal. Although it was driven by a primal, sudden lust, you and Yeosang won't regret it.
Because you two were mates, soulmates.
"Let's rest, y/n." He pecked your forehead. You smiled softly, letting yourself limb in his embrace.
Hm….it's just more troublesome to explain to others why you smell like Yeosang, especially your Emma.
Dom! Pervert Boss! Jongho x Sub! Pervert Secretary! Reader
Warning: Smut, Oral (male received), dom & sob, using of pet name, cum eating
Word count: 4K
Summary: You shouldn't fall in love with him, but you crave him, surrender to him, and allow him to break you like a toy.
Falling in love with your boss is generally frowned upon and not considered appropriate for a secretary, right? It may seem old school and ridiculous, but yes, you find yourself falling for Jongho at the first sight. Rarely does anyone have a fondness for their boss. The reason is simple—-he can be rude, overbearing, and even cool to the point where it's hard to find any positive adjectives to describe him. Yet, you are totally different—your mind is filled with perverse thoughts that draw you to him—the way he raises his voice when he gives orders, the vein that bugles on his forehead when he shouts, and let's not forget how he slams his hand on the table in anger. Oh my! You really want to know what it would feel like if he were to spank you while his dick is deep in—
Knock—Knock "Y/n. I said next slide." A low, impatient voice accompanied by a knocking sound jolted you back to reality, where the others looked at you as if to say, "good luck," while Jongho's gaze bore into you with a dark intensity.
His handsome face caused your heart to race and your cunt pulsate, a warm wetness seeping from your core and dampening your panties.
"ye…yes. Sorry, boss." You hurriedly offered your apology, anxiously tapping the button for the next page, your hips swaying instinctively as if to soothe the weeping cunt that pleaded for his cock. Little did you know, Jongho noticed all the tiny movements of your hips when you caught his stare and how you tried hard to suppress the itchy feelings between your thighs.
You believed you were concealing your desires effectively, yet Jongho had been aware for quite some time of your longing for his body, or more specifically, his cock. While you were seated at his desk, listening to him talk about business, he caught sight of your hands fidgeting under the table, your upper arms subtly shifting. Even after you departed, there was always a damp spot left on the chair. To validate his suspicions, he discreetly set up a hidden camera in the ceiling. This way, he could observe you each time you lifted your skirt up your thighs, caressing your clitoris through your panties, and even reaching climax when he was momentarily distracted.
This slut.
At first, he was merely conducting an investigation, but now it appears that something has shifted—he's become aroused by your videos. No other porn can lead him to the peak of climax that you do. He desires to dominate you, to make you his submissive, to demonstrate the consequence of a secretary who entertained such lewd fantasies.
Just imagining you, your face smeared with his seed, kneeling and pleading for "no more rounds," is enough to erectile.
"Come to my office," Jongho commanded after the meeting. You hurriedly collected your supplies from your desk, disregarding the pitying looks from your colleagues, and eagerly dashed to his office.
You felt a surge of joy at the prospect of being alone with him once more.
"Boss." You entered his office after getting permission from Jongho.
"Sit down." He was now leaning against his desk, crossing his arms and looking at you like a predator craving its prey. "You know what fault you have made?"
"Yes, boss. I'm sorry…I had spaced out in the meeting." Again, he saw you crossing your legs, hiding your desire, or rubbing your wet, pathetic pussy in a useless friction.
"So you think what should I do for it?"
"You…you can do anything…boss…"
"Anything huh?" He suddenly grabbed your chin, his fingers pressing your cheeks, leaving you to let out a soft whimper. "Even if it means I'll use this little mouth to do anything I want?"
"Ye…yes…"
"Good. My lovely pet. Tell your master what you want, hm?" His fingertip brushed against your lower lip, gently tugging it to slide between his fingers as a wordless invitation for you to suck. Without needing any words, you traced your tongue along the curve, enveloping them with your lips before he withdrew.
"Please, I want your cock." There you were, begging for his thick member with a soft voice. He was almost snapped and pinned you down on the floor to fuck you non stop. But he had to stay calm, at least for now.
"And what you should call me?"
"Please, master."
Jongho's body shuddered at your words, his head tilting back as he let out a guttural moan of pure desire. He couldn't get up fast enough, pushing himself off the sofa and standing in front of you.
"On your knees." He commanded, his voice low and authoritative.
He stalked towards you, his hands coming to rest on your shoulders, his fingers gripping you almost possessively.
"Keep your hands behind your back and unzip my pants with your teeth." You gazed at his lustful eyes as if asking for permission to touch his crotch. With a push, his arched tent was presented right before your lips, and you cautiously sank your teeth into the chilly zipper, yanking it down to reveal his cock popping out from the slit. The perfect curve of his cock clearly outlined under the panties, humping them with a prideful thickness and length. You couldn't help but lean down to press kiss on the top of his shaft, then looking back at his face.
His calloused fingers slid from your shoulders up to your hair, his hand gripping a handful of it loosely, just enough to give him some control. He tilted your head back gently, his eyes locked on yours, watching the way you looked up at him in complete submission. His thumb brushed over your bottom lip, a low hum rumbling in his chest.
"Open your mouth, pet. Stick your tongue out."
His voice was rough, thick with need as he guided himself to your waiting mouth. The first hot, velvety press of him against your tongue sent a shiver through you—tasting him, the salt and musk of his arousal making your own desperation coil tighter. He groaned, low and deep, as your lips wrapped around him, his grip in your hair tightening just enough to send a spark of delicious pain down your spine.
"Fuck—" He exhaled through clenched teeth. "Look at you. Taking me so fucking well."
Your lips wrapped around his plump cockhead perfectly, sucking him in while the tip of your tongue pressing against the small hole, letting the white liquid fill your taste buds. Grabbing the base of his cock, your palm moved back and forth to create the delicious friction to make the veins pop up on the shaft as he got harder.
His hips rolled forward, slow and deliberate, the tip of him nudging the back of your throat. You gagged instinctively, but he didn't pull away—just held you there, his breath ragged, letting you feel the fullness of him, the dominance in his restraint.
"Breathe through your nose," he ordered, his free hand coming down to stroke your cheek. "Relax. That's it… good pet."
He set a brutal, punishing rhythm as he began to move, your lips stretched obscenely around him as he fucked your mouth with deep, languid strokes. Every time he bottomed out, your throat fluttered around him, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.
He watched you—always watching—his gaze dark, pupils blown wide with lust. "You like this, don't you?" he growled. "Being used like this. My perfect little cock slut."
Jongho's head tipped back, a sharp inhale coming from his lips as you started to work your tongue on him. He couldn't help but let out a low moan, his fingers tightening on the handful of hair he had.
You tasted the metallic tang of your own effort mixed with his potent musk, your jaw aching, your throat straining, but a primal, insistent need to please him overriding every discomfort. Your tongue swirled, swathed, and sucked, following the brutal rhythm he set, driven by the raw delight visible in his face, the clench of his jaw, the ripple of muscle in his arms.
"That's it, sweetheart," he rasped, his voice a guttural whisper that vibrated through your skull as he slammed into the back of your throat. "Deeper. You want it deeper, don't you? My name on your tongue."
He pulled out almost entirely, just the tip lingering, before diving back in with renewed force, a low, guttural growl tearing from his chest as you took him completely again. The sound echoed in your ears, a triumph, a declaration.
"Fuck," he groaned again, his voice cracking with intensity, his eyes squeezed shut for a fleeting moment before snapping back open. He watched your face, watched tears streaming down because of discomfort, and a twisted desire to destroy you raising up in his heart. "So fucking good. I'm almost there, baby. Take all of me. Swallow me whole."
His warning sent a shiver down your spine as Jongho's pace intensified, each thrust hitting the back of your throat with brutal force. His cock throbbed and twisted, transparent, sticky mess flowing out from the tip to soak your dry throat, reaching down your stomach
You began to gag again, your eyes watering, tears streaming down your cheeks as his thick length stretched your jaw to its limit. But he didn't stop, didn't relent, just continued to use your mouth like a cheap whore, his fingers digging into your scalp as he pulled you down to meet his punishing strokes.
"Look at me," he demanded, his voice a guttural hiss. "Keep eye contact. I want to see your face when I cum down your throat."
Your gaze jerked up to meet his, locking with his as he fucked your mouth with reckless abandon. His eyes were wild, dark with unchecked desire, a predatory glint that made your stomach flip with trepidation and arousal.
Jongho's hips snapped forward, the head of his cock slamming into the back of your throat with brutal force. You choked, gagging violently as he held you there, his length throbbing and twitching against your palate.
"Fuck, yes," he groaned, his head thrown back, eyes rolling shut as he surrendered to the pleasure. "Swallow it all, pet. Drink your master's cum."
With a final, brutal thrust, he buried himself to the hilt and exploded, his hot seed jetting down your throat in thick, pulsing ropes. You gagged and choked, trying to breathe through your nose as he emptied himself inside you, the taste of his essence bitter and salty on your tongue.
Jongho's grip on your hair relaxed as he slowly pulled out, his softening cock slipping from your lips with a lewd pop. You gasped for air, your throat raw and aching, tears streaming down your face as you looked up at him with wide, worshipful eyes.
"That's a good girl," he murmured, his voice softer now, almost tender, as he stroked your cheek with a calloused thumb. "You took your master's cock so well, didn't you? Such a good little cock slut."
You nodded, a dull, exhausted smile tugging at your lips as he helped you to your feet, his strong arms wrapping around your shoulders to steady you. Despite the pain and discomfort, the humiliating degradation, you felt a deep, satiated warmth spreading through your chest, a twisted sense of pride in pleasing him.
"Go clean up," Jongho ordered, his voice a low rumble against your ear. "I'll be waiting in the bedroom when you're done. And don't forget the lube."
The bathroom light flickered above you as you braced your hands on the sink, staring at your reflection—lips swollen, cheeks flushed, eyes still glazed with the aftershocks of submission. The taste of him lingered, a bitter-sweet reminder of how deeply he'd marked you. You swiped your tongue over your teeth, savoring the remnants of salt and musk, your pulse stuttering at the memory of his grip in your hair, the way his voice had frayed when he came.
A droplet of water slid down your neck, tracing the path his thumb had taken earlier. You shivered.
"Don't forget the lube."
The command had been casual, but the implication coiled low in your stomach. He wasn't done with you. Not even close.
You grabbed the bottle from the cabinet, the plastic cool in your trembling fingers. The door was ajar, the dim glow of lamplight spilling onto the floor. Jongho sat on the edge of the sofa, shirtless, his muscles taut as he rolled his shoulders. His gaze flicked up the second you crossed the threshold, eyes black with hunger.
"There you are."
You held out the bottle, but he didn't take it. Instead, he reached for your wrist, pulling you between his spread thighs. His free hand slid up your side, fingers splayed, branding your skin.
"You still taste like me," he murmured, thumb brushing your bottom lip. "Good."
The praise slithered under your skin, molten and treacherous. You leaned into his touch, greedy for more.
Jongho's mouth curved, a predator's smile. "Turn around."
A shudder ripped through you, but you obeyed, presenting yourself to him. His palm landed on your lower back, pressing you forward until your hands met the sofa.
The cap of the lube clicked open.
"You took my cock so well," he mused, slick fingers trailing down your spine. "Let's see if you can take the rest of me." His touch dipped lower, past the curve of your ass, and you tensed instinctively.
"Breathe," he ordered, fingers circling your entrance. "Relax."
You exhaled, forcing your muscles to unclench as he pressed in, one thick digit sliding deep. A whimper tore from your throat.
"That's it," he coaxed, voice thick with approval. "Take it."
The stretch burned, but beneath the ache was a twisted satisfaction—the knowledge that you were yielding, that he was carving himself into every inch of you. By the time a second finger joined the first, your knees were shaking, sweat prickling at your temples.
"Only two fingers make you shake like this?" His middle and ring fingers pushed to the deepest, staying for a while he leaned down to whisper. "I think you need to stretch more. Am I right?" A third finger was added, stretching you impossibly wider. A sharp, guttural sound escaped your lips, half-sob, half-gasp. Your hips jerked back instinctively, a panicked animal reflex.
"Look at you," Jongho murmured, his breath hot against the shell of your ear. "Already falling apart before I've even fucked you properly."
The words shouldn't have sent another rush of heat between your thighs, but they did. You swallowed a gasp as his fingers twisted deeper, the drag deliberate, punishing. His other hand clamped around your hip, holding you in place as if he knew you might try to escape the overwhelming sensation.
You didn't want to escape.
That was the most dangerous part.
"So tight for me. You feel so fucking good like this." He hooked his fingers, pulling you back against him in a slow, rocking motion. He was teaching your body, forcing it to accept this new fullness, this invasion that felt dangerously like a homecoming.
When his fingers curled just so, your legs nearly gave out. A choked moan spilled from your lips, your forehead dropping to the cool leather of the sofa as pleasure sharpened to a fine, searing point.
He brought the four fingers of his other hand together, moistened them with his tongue, and then reached down to your clit, massaging it in broad circles; his thumb softly caressed near your pubic bone, lightly brushing against your sensitive bud, and then unexpectedly applies pressure to press it.
A soft gasp escaped from your throat as the excitement was approaching, crashing your limb like a truck until unable to support the sweaty, heavy body. Of course, the man behind you knew it well because of the way your spongy wall muscles fluttered around his fingers to pull him deeper to free from the knot in your stomach.
The throbbing feeling in your cunt radiated a fiery warmth throughout your body, causing a wave of weakness that pulled you down onto the drenched couch. Your arousal trickled down your knees and calves as you sank deeper into the couch, exposing your glimmer hole to the man behind you.
"What a total mess." A dark chuckle was his only answer. He withdrew his fingers slowly, and the sudden emptiness was a shock, a hollow ache that had you whining in protest. The sound was pathetic, needy, and you hated it even as it brought a fresh wave of heat to your core.
"Patience," he chided softly. The blunt head of his cock pressed against you, relentless, and your breath hitched. "Eyes forward. Watch yourself take me." You whimpered but obeyed, gaze locking onto the mirror across the room—your reflection flushed and debauched, his body bracketing yours, possessive.
"Take all of me, pet."
He didn't push—not yet. He made you push back, made you beg for it with the arch of your spine. The first thrust was slow, deliberate, splitting you open in a way that made your vision white out.
"Fuck," he hissed, hips snapping forward, burying himself to the hilt. "Tighter than I thought.."
And God, you were. Every drag of him inside you rewired your senses, until all you knew was his scent, his sweat, the relentless grasp of his hands on your hips. The stretch bordered on unbearable, but the pain only sharpened the pleasure coiling in your belly. Each snap of his hips dragged a ragged noise from your throat, each filthy whisper—"You're taking me so well, darling"—sank into your bones like a vow.
This wasn't just sex.
It was surrender.
Tears welled again, but you didn't dare wipe them. He liked them. Liked seeing you unravel beneath him.
But then, he stopped—buried deep, flush against you—your body seized, overwhelmed. A choked sound tore from your throat, whispering his name with all your might. "Jongho…" He said nothing and let you adjust, yet the hard grip on your hip bone betrayed his restraint to take you now and here. His breath was ragged against the nape of your neck, damp with sweat, his lips brushing the skin as he murmured,
"Breath"
You hadn't realized you were holding your breath until the dizzying lack of oxygen made your vision blur. The slow exhale shuddered out of you, and he rewarded it with an experimental roll of his hips—just enough to make you gasp, to remind you of the way he filled you.
"Good. Now take more."
He slipped out almost entirely—only the mushroom-shaped cockhead remained, teasing your fluttering entrance—before slamming back in with a force that knocked the air from your lungs. Your fingers scrambled against the leather of the sofa, slipping on sweat-slick material, and you cried out, the sound pitching higher as his pace didn't relent.
"Look." His fingers tangled in your hair, yanking your head up toward the mirror.
And there you were—face flushed, lips parted, eyes glassy with unshed tears. His body dwarfed yours, his grip possessive, his thrusts brutal in their precision. You watched your own reflection as he fucked into you, watched the way your mouth fell open with a silent scream when his thumb found your clit again, rough circles that matched the ruthless snap of his hips.
"See how well you take me?" His voice was dark, smug. "See how pretty you look when you're mine?"
You whimpered, the coil in your stomach tightening beyond bearing. Every nerve was alight, every inch of you attuned to him—the drag of his cock inside you, the scrape of his teeth against your shoulder, the way his fingers tightened in warning when he felt your muscles start to flutter.
"Not yet," he growled.
Your head dropped forward, a desperate noise ripping free. "Please—"
"Begging already?" A dark chuckle. "You'll come when I let you, pet. Not a second sooner." He began to move again, not slow at all, but completely frantic. Each deliberate withdrawal was a promise of the return, a torturous slide that had your muscles clenching in anticipation. With every deep, grinding thrust, he pressed you further into the sofa, his pubic bone rolling against your clit in a perfect, maddening friction.
The reflection in the mirror was a masterpiece of debauchery: your face buried in the leather, hair a tangled mess, his powerful form a stark contrast to your trembling surrender.
"Look up," he commanded, his voice low and firm, leaving no room for disobedience. Your head lifted, heavy and boneless, until your eyes met your own in the glass. You saw the raw desperation there, the flush staining your chest and neck, the way your hips had begun to move on their own, a pathetic, needy twitch meeting his every push. The sight sent a fresh wave of shame and arousal crashing through you.
He felt the shift, the moment your body gave up fighting and started to crave. A guttural growl rumbled in his chest, and the slow torture ended. The rhythm changed, becoming frantic, primal. The sound of his flesh slapping against yours filled the silent room, a wet, percussive beat that vibrated through the furniture and up your spine. His hands left your hips, sliding under your stomach to lift you, tilting your pelvis up to meet him at a deeper, more devastating angle.
"That's it," he grunted, biting gently at the nape of your neck. "Take it. Take every fucking inch for me."
"Jongho—" His name was a sob.
"Say it again." He fucked into you harder, his voice a growl against your shoulder. "Louder."
"Jongho!"
His hand fisted in your hair, yanking your head back. "Again."
You screamed it this time, a ragged, desperate thing, as his teeth sank into the junction of your neck. The pain was a lightning strike, arcing straight to your core.
He laughed, dark and breathless, when you clenched around him. "Knew you'd love that."
Your body was a live wire, every nerve alight, pleasure and pain indistinguishable. When his palm cracked against your ass, you sobbed, your thighs trembling as you hurtled toward the edge.
"You feel that?" he rasped, his own control fraying. He hammered into a spot deep inside you that sent lightning bolts through your system. "You're so close. I can feel you falling apart around me. Come on, pet. Break for me."
That was all it took. The command, the raw possession in his voice, sent you over the edge. Your back arched like a bow, a scream tearing from your throat as your orgasm ripped through you. It wasn't a gentle release; it was a violent, convulsive shattering. Your vision went white, your inner walls spasming around him in a frantic, desperate grip.
Your climax was the only permission he needed. With a final, guttural roar that vibrated against your back, he drove into you one last time, his body locking rigid as he flooded you with white hot seed.
The room resonated with the sound of your two heavy breaths and the lingering aroma of intimacy. He didn't withdraw right away, choosing to wait until his erection softened before gently pulling it out from your vagina. His limp member dripped with a thick, white sperm, mingled with the sweet juices you had squirted during your climax. Just the idea of having a piece of him within you ignited a thrill in his stomach.
He turned over and embraced you, despite the stickiness of sweat that clung to both of you.
"Perfect," he murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "I love how your pussy is full with my seed, or maybe, my future child."
Rubbing a small circle on your stomach, his gaze softened as if the baby was now inside your belly, swollen and heavy.
"You'll carry my child, won't you? You'll let me breed you until your cunt is full of nothing but my cum, right? My little slut."
The words should have stung. Instead, they curled warm in your chest. "Yes…master. I want all of you."
"That's what my good girl should be…" He kissed you deeply without knowing if there was any love or affection but you'd let him ruin you.
