Each one folded and put away in a box like a goodbye to a part of yourself you were never brave enough to be.
You never meant to send them.
That part is still true.
But now…
They know.
At least some of them.
You’re sure of Seonghwa. His gaze lingers on you a little too long, heavy with something unspoken. It's as if he’s holding back the words he really wants to say but doesn’t. He looks at you like you’re an open book with too many chapters he’s too afraid to read. The silence between you two feels heavy, full of things you wish he would just say.
Hongjoong, too. He’s been quieter lately, sure, but not cold. He’s been watching you more closely, like he’s waiting for some kind of sign from you, but you’re not sure what kind. His eyes are sharp, like he’s calculating, but there's a certain softness there, something protective, guarded or measured. It’s hard to tell. He doesn't pry, but he’s aware, and you can feel the weight of his attention when he’s near.
Mingi hasn’t said a word for a few days. The laughter that escapes him feels hollow, a little too loud for anyone’s comfort. It rings in your ears, forced. And when he asks if you’re okay, it’s with the kind of urgency that seems to immediately pull him away, like he’s afraid of hearing your answer. Every time you try to make eye contact, he looks away, like he's been caught in something he can’t undo.
Then there's Yunho. His distance is like a cold front, you know he needs to maintain space. He told you so, but it still hurts.
And San? Well, he's different. There's a tenderness in his approach now. He’s careful with his touches, more mindful of the way he moves around you. If he brushes against your arm, it's deliberate, almost hesitant like he's testing the waters, unsure of how close he can get which never happened before. There's a quiet worry in the way he watches you, a concern that’s almost palpable.
Wooyoung is the one who stays close, the only one who doesn’t hide behind the quiet, the distance, or the pretenses. When the others aren’t looking, he’s there offering a smile that warms you, his presence a steady comfort. He knows how to make you laugh, how to make you feel seen without saying too much. In front of the members, he’s careful, like he’s protecting something fragile. He doesn’t want them to think you made a choice and give them the wrong idea. But in the small, private moments, his support is clear as day as he promised.
And then... there's the rest. You can deal with the ones who know, the ones who look at you like they want to ask but don’t know how. But the ones who haven’t said a word, the ones who read it and chose to say nothing and you’re not even sure they all got their letter. But their silence feels louder than anything. It gnaws at you, a constant question mark, wondering whether they really didn’t feel anything or if they just didn’t care enough to speak.
CWs: Non-consensual voyeurism, vaginal fingering, pet name usage (sweetheart, doll), lying, subtle manipulation, alcohol, sexual acts under the influence, mouth-to-mouth drinking
LINKS: AO3 Link | All Works Masterlist
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It's as if you're suffocating.
Ever since The Incident™, you see him — them — everywhere. You no longer feel at peace in your apartment because merely being aware of the fact that they are a few short feet away from you, right across the hall, has you constantly on edge. You're waiting, yearning... yet far too timid to actually make a move. You have come to the realization that whatever confidence you had prior was thanks to your drunken and prideful state.
Occasionally, you will encounter the two of them in the halls or in the lobby, each time becoming more and more flustered.
San, for the most part, treats you normally, despite you never having seen him around the complex before. How your attention was never caught by a man that good-looking, you are entirely unable to comprehend. But, considering that even now you only spot him once in a blue moon, you assume that he either works odd hours or lives elsewhere and only occasionally spends the night.
He'll nod at you in passing, maybe even shoot you a dimpled smile if you're lucky. However, there is a mischievous twinkle in his eyes that wasn't there before.
From how San acted when you'd first met, you weren't entirely sure he was interested in girls. Wooyoung was the only one who openly said anything of the sort. Now, you have no doubts.
Wooyoung... Wooyoung is an entirely different story.
When you bump into him, he is nothing like San. He doesn't act like things are normal, like you are two people who are barely acquainted. Instead, it's quite the opposite. He flirts with you every chance he can get, winking at you or whispering inappropriate yet enticing things, promises of what could be.
Before, when you passed him in the hall, you would nod to one another, maybe wave hello. Maybe he'd make you smile with an off-hand greeting. Now, your reaction is entirely different and, try as you might, you can't help it. You blush, you stutter, you avoid eye contact; sometimes, you swear you can hear Wooyoung laugh or softly murmur an endearing term as he walks away.
The days you interact with them are the days where you return to your apartment frustrated in more ways than one. You wish you could help the way you react — you were never a shy girl — but something about the duo is so new and intriguing that you're practically at their mercy. You spend hours on end reliving that night, the feeling of Wooyoung’s lips on your neck and San’s predatory gaze, and part of you desperately wants to go back and do it all again.
Wooyoung’s words haunt your dreams, his invitation always at the back of your mind. Should you force yourself to find the confidence you know you must have and go back? You have your own fingers and imagination to keep you satisfied for now, but you know that won't last.
Luckily, it isn't long until your decision is made for you.
"Hello, (Y/N)." As always, Minhyun greets you as soon as you walk through the lobby doors, bowing respectfully.
Adjusting the straps of your backpack, you bow in return. "Minhyun, how many times do I tell you there's no need to be so formal? You're my elder."
"It's my job, you know that," he laughs, eyes crinkling at the corners. "Don't want to get fired. Working here as a doorman pays better than any other part-time job I've had."
You raise an eyebrow. "Really? Good for you, man."
"I know, right? Anyway, you've got some mail." He nods to the cluster mailboxes.
"Thanks, Minhyun. See you around." With a wave, you head over to your mailbox, setting your bag down and digging the key out of the front pocket.
Considering you were only expecting bills and perhaps a letter or two from your college, you can't help but be surprised when you see a thick, brightly colored envelope sitting right on top of the mail pile. Picking it up, you wonder what it could be. Perhaps a wedding invitation? Chan and his girlfriend seemed practically attached at the hip the last time you saw them. Flipping the envelope over, you almost drop it in shock.
In small script, that is somehow both messy and neat, is written:
Wooyoung Jung
Wonderland Apartments
Apt. 206C
Hands shaking due to either nervousness or anticipation, or maybe both, you hurriedly open the letter, eager to unveil its contents. Discarding the envelope in the closest trash can, you pull out a cute card, decorated with confetti. The word "PARTY" is written in big, 3D letters on the front and a short message is printed on the inside. However, what catches your eye is the note written on the blank side of the card, scrawled in the same handwriting as the address.
Doll,
We're still waiting for you to show up at the door and ask that question again. But, until then, we hope to see you at San’s birthday party.
Yours,
Woo & San
Your heart jumps as you read how the card was signed. Yours...? You like the sound of that.
Feeling giddy, you head back upstairs to your apartment, but then a thought crosses your mind. How on earth are you supposed to pick out a present for San when you know next to nothing about him?
"I don't know," Mingi muses, mindlessly twirling the straw sticking out of his iced caramel macchiato between two of his fingers. "Why don't you just fuck him again? I think that would make a great birthday present."
A gasp follows Mingi’s words and the two of you turn your heads to make eye contact with an offended-looking mother who, upon getting your attention, gestures to the young child sitting across from her. Immediately, Mingi smiles, putting his pearly whites on full display. The woman visibly falters, glare softening on impact.
"I am incredibly sorry, miss," Mingi starts, making his voice as soft and sultry as possible. You have to fight the urge to roll your eyes — you've seen this act many times before. "I didn't realize there was a child present. Is he yours?"
The mother nods and Mingi gasps, eyes widening dramatically. "Wow. I must say, I find that hard to believe. I really thought you were his sister."
The woman blushes, telling him to stop, but anyone could tell that it's an empty demand. To your dismay, Mingi keeps going, despite the fact that she has obviously already been won over. He has always had a habit of being an overachiever.
"Well, I hope you don't have anything against younger men because I don't see a ring on your finger and would love to take you out to dinner sometime."
Ah, of course. Like most of his encounters, the ordeal ends with him getting someone's number. Giving him a slip of paper, the mother bows and leaves, hand in hand with her child.
"So," you say, raising an eyebrow. "Are you actually planning on taking her on a date?"
Mingi shakes his head. "No, anyone with children is a no-go. I don't wanna mess with families."
You lightly kick his foot with your own underneath the table. "I get that, but then why'd you have to get her hopes up?" He only shrugs his shoulders in response. "Ugh," you groan, shaking your head. "You're such a pig."
"But you love me."
"Unfortunately." Sighing, you take a sip of your drink. "Anyway, can we get back to talking about what the hell I should get S— Wooyoung for a present?" You internally curse yourself for the slip-up, but luckily Mingi doesn't seem to notice.
"I gave you my suggestion already," he says with a wink.
"Can you think with your head and not your dick for maybe like two seconds? I could always go and ask Seonghwa instead — he's great at picking presents for people."
"No, no, I'll help, I swear," Mingi says, taking one last sip of his drink before throwing it away and focusing on you entirely. "What would a guy like Wooyoung want for his birthday?" He pauses, thinking.
Wooyoung. You sigh. You haven't had the nerve to tell Mingi, or your other two friends, about what happened that night. How do you explain that the person who gave you hickies (or had sex with you, considering that's what they all think) is dating someone else? Let alone dating another man? Sometimes omitting the truth is the easiest thing to do.
"Well, tell me what the inside of his apartment looks like; we can go from there."
Despite the fact that the person you're actually shopping for most likely doesn't live in that apartment, you don't really have much else to go off of. So, thinking back to that night, you describe the interior to Mingi.
"Well," you begin, "One of the first things I noticed was the big, grand piano in the corner of the living room. I remember being surprised because I never would have thought there’d be enough space for one, but somehow th— he makes it work. There was also a lot of art on the walls and quite a few pictures that look like they could have been self-taken. There's part of the kitchen area that is used as a bar and—"
Mingi cuts you off. "Holy shit, this guy sounds rich. You really should fuck him again. Maybe he could be your sugar daddy and help pay off all of your college loans—"
You roll your eyes and get up from the table, throwing down a five. "Alright, I'll see you later; I'm going to Seonghwa’s."
"Sorry," Mingi says with a laugh. "Love ya, (Y/N)!"
"Love you too. And your one brain cell."
Once again standing in front of Wooyoung’s apartment door, you can't help but nervously bounce on the balls of your feet. You hear music blasting from inside, just like you did on that day. In fact, this whole situation is so eerily similar to The Incident™ that you find yourself blushing. The only differences are that, this time, you've been invited and are accompanied by the two expensive bottles of wine that Seonghwa helped you pick out after you mutually decided they would serve as an acceptable present.
Biting the bullet, you knock on the door and it opens a few seconds later, revealing the birthday boy himself.
"(Y/N), it's so great of you to make it," San says, dimples making an appearance as he smiles kindly at you. "Please, come in."
You follow him inside and, ever the gentleman, he takes the wine from you and places it on the counter so you can comfortably slip out of your shoes. Placing them neatly against the wall, you take note of the other... two pairs?
You look around the apartment and, despite being decked out in an almost ridiculous amount of birthday decorations, there’s a scarce amount of people. In fact, there’s no one present besides you, San, and Wooyoung who’s smiling at you like the cheshire cat from his place on a kitchen stool.
“Welcome to the party, doll.”
You laugh nervously, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Uh, thanks. Doesn’t seem like there’s much of a party yet, though. Am I early?”
You swear the invitation said to arrive at 8 PM but, here you are, 12 minutes after, alone with the hosts.
“No,” Wooyoung says, getting off of the stool and walking towards you. “You’re fashionably late. The truth is, San has never been one for big parties. We thought it’d be nice if it were just us three.”
The words take a second to sink in but, when they do, you realize exactly what’s going on. There is no party — never was. It was all an elaborate trick to get you to come back and, perhaps, continue where the three of you left off last time.
Wooyoung holds out a flute of champagne and you happily accept it, taking a generous sip. He continues, “Doesn’t the saying go ‘two’s a crowd and three’s a party’?” He laughs, knowing that is just his personal alteration of the true phrase. “Of course, you’re not obligated to stay. After all, we weren't entirely honest with you and I apologize if this upsets you in any way. We just got too impatient waiting for you to show back up at our door.”
Wooyoung’s words boggle your mind, mainly because you can’t believe that the two of them were actively waiting for you to come back over. Not only do they have each other, but they’re both very attractive and could certainly sleep with anyone they wanted. So, why you? You can’t bite back your curiosity, so you ask them outright.
“You’re intriguing, sweetheart,” San answers. “It’s not every day a stranger knocks on the apartment door asking for sex, dare or not.”
Again, you blush. You’ve been doing that so much lately that you’re surprised your face hasn't been dyed a permanent shade of red. You can only blame the effect that the two of them have on you. “Is that so?”
Wooyoung nods, moving to sit on the couch and inviting you to follow him. “You’re also incredibly attractive, with a cute personality to match.” Using a remote, he changes the channel the stereo is on, letting the smooth notes of some R&B song replace the upbeat pop that was previously playing. “Again, don’t feel obligated to stay or do anything you don’t want to, doll. We can just hang out if you want, be friends. This is a party after all.”
You take a moment to think. You know you have been craving the two of them since that first night together, but is this something you would actually want to get involved in? You’re not experienced with open relationships, and not entirely sure how they work. Is it exclusive with just the three of you? Will someone else get added to the mix? Will they drop you if they find someone new and more exciting?
As if seeing the wheels in your head turning, San comes and sits on the other side of you, placing a comforting hand on your thigh. “You can ask us questions, you know. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”
Just as you’re about to, the sound of the doorbell drowns out the music. After sending a curious look toward Wooyoung who responds with a shrug of his shoulders, San gets up and heads to answer the surprise guests.
“Hello—”
San’s greeting is cut short by yelling and whooping and an unfortunately familiar voice saying, “Yo, we heard there was a party so we decided to crash!”
Time slows to a crawl and you look away from a confused Wooyoung to a flustered San until, finally, you make eye contact with who was at the door.
Your three boys.
The causes of your many headaches.
The banes of your existence.
Mingi, Yunho, and Jongho, all of whom are currently looking around the apartment in a stupor.
“Uh…” Jongho looks between you and your two hosts, a six-pack in one hand and scratching the back of his head with the other. “Are we early?”
Your shock gets overridden by some primal instinct and, before Wooyoung and San even have a chance to say anything, you're out of your seat and grabbing Yunho and Mingi by the arms, attempting to drag them out of the apartment as you kick Jongho in the ass, urging him to move back. (You’ll probably pay for that later, but you aren’t thinking about that now.)
"What the hell are you guys doing here," you hiss, practically feeling the steam blow out of your ears. "It wasn't an open invite!"
"We just wanted to stop by and make sure this guy you fucked is good enough for our girl," Mingi explains, ripping his arm out of your grasp and turning back around. "So, fellas, which one of you is Wooyoung?"
Slowly standing up, Wooyoung raises his hand. "Uh, that'd be me. I'm guessing you three are friends of (Y/N)?"
Yunho nods, smiling and making his way over to the much smaller man, clapping him on the shoulder. "That's right! I'm Yunho, the broody one with the beer is Jongho, and the pretty one is Mingi. Sorry for intruding, but we're like her brothers, you know? Gotta scope out the new boyfriend or fuck buddy or whatever you are."
Placing the six-pack down onto the counter, Jongho sits on one of the stools, making himself comfortable. Lolling his head to the side, he makes eye contact with San. "So, who are you?"
San goes to answer but you cut him off, knowing he'll likely say he's Wooyoung’s boyfriend and make the situation even more complicated than it already is. Pushing Jongho off of his stool, you say, "Don't worry about who he is! Can you guys just go? The party is canceled, so—"
"Why are you trying to kick them out?" Wooyoung interrupts, shooting you a devilish smile. He winks at San and continues as you try to ignore the growing pit of unease in your stomach. "We can have a party with just the six of us. Let's have some fun, hm?"
Oh, boy. You’ve never been a religious person, but you take a moment to pray. You have a feeling you’ll need the help of some otherworldly being to get through the night.
Wooyoung leans closer to you, the couch shifting underneath his weight. The three boys sit a ways ahead of you on the carpet, completely plastered and engrossed in watching the action flick Yunho chose at random. Wooyoung places his hand on your thigh, squeezing the soft flesh. You cast him a warning look, but it gets ignored. Again. San comes up behind the couch and leans over the back of it, whispering something dirty in your ear. Again.
This is a perfect example of how the night’s been going. Wooyoung and San ganging up on you, teasing you, playing some sort of game. “It’s all in good fun,” San told you earlier in the night, sneaking up behind you and pulling you against his body. Luckily, your friends were distracted by the game of beer pong Wooyoung somehow managed to set up on the kitchen table. “We want to see how far we can go until someone notices. That’s alright with you, isn’t it, sweetheart?”
And despite the fact that you are somewhat terrified of your three friends noticing what’s going on between the three of you, you found yourself saying that it was. Now, here you are, with Wooyoung to your right with his hand up your skirt and San behind you, kissing the skin of your neck.
“You’re both insane,” you whisper, not taking your eyes off of the boys in front of you. “You’re asking to get caught.”
"Nonsense," Wooyoung whispers, eyes trained on the movie while his nimble fingers tease the band of your panties. "You're too worried. I can assure you they won't notice — not only are they watching a movie, but they're drunk as hell. Trust me, doll. Trust us."
San stops his ministrations on your neck, coming to sit on the other side of you. "Do you?" You furrow your eyebrows, confused, and he adds, "Trust us, I mean."
"Yes."
The immediacy of your answer seems to surprise the two and you must say that you even surprised yourself. You thought the confidence you had from the dare was a one-time thing, but maybe you are becoming more of a risk taker.
Or maybe it's the alcohol. Who knows?
However, despite their initial shock, it doesn't take long for the two of them to get back to their endless teasing. Wooyoung’s hand slips inside your panties and he runs one finger up your slit, a test to see how wet you are. He hums, pleased. You let out a sharp exhale of breath and San chuckles, placing a soft kiss on your shoulder.
"Loosen up — we'll take care of you."
San continues there, kissing up your shoulder towards the base of your neck where he lightly rakes his teeth over your skin. You automatically lean your head back to give him more access but quickly look forward once again, desperate to keep an eye on the three men on the floor.
After teasing your folds a few more times with one of his slender fingers, Wooyoung dips the digit inside of you, curling it a few times to get a feel for you. His touch makes your back arch and San reaches over, placing a strong hand on your abdomen to help keep you pressed against the couch. Keeping his hand there, he reaches forward, plucking his wine glass off of the side table next to him. As if he's completely oblivious to what's happening, he takes a delicate sip.
Lifting the glass in your direction, he asks, "Would you like some?"
You're unable to respond — or even begin to process his question — because you are far too focused on the feeling of Wooyoung’s finger inside of you, teasing and withdrawing, always leaving you wanting just a little bit more. He takes you to the edge and back again, all the while sporting a content smile with playful eyes.
San takes another sip but, this time, he doesn't swallow. Instead, he leans forward and captures your lips with his own, pushing the wine into your mouth with his tongue. You were unprepared and some of the liquid escapes, trailing a line down your jaw, your neck, into your shirt, and onto your breasts. San watches the line with a predator's eye, waiting barely a second before diving in and pressing his tongue to your skin.
The two sides of San’s personality are further revealed as he cleanses the alcohol from your skin, leaving kisses one moment and lightly piercing you with his teeth the next. Spurred on, Wooyoung lets another finger join the first, filling you further. The new sensation has you reeling and you can't fight the gasp that escapes your lips.
Luckily, the noise is drowned out by the explosions on the television that have your friends so enraptured.
Wooyoung scissors the two digits, stretching you out and sending another shockwave of pleasure throughout your body. His fingers, long and slender as they are, have no problem reaching deep inside of you, rubbing against the bundle of nerves that has you on the brink of an orgasm right then and there. Sensing that you're about to moan aloud, San separates his mouth from the skin of your chest — where you're sure you will find blossoming red and purple marks — only to capture your lips with his own, swallowing your sounds of gratification.
You grab Wooyoung’s arm and lock it in a death grip, attempting to express how close you are to coming undone. You know that you won't be able to control yourself or the noises you're making for much longer, and your friends will surely notice what's been going on behind them for the entirety of the movie that seems to be more than halfway finished. Understanding your silent plea, Wooyoung pauses his ministrations.
He reaches out and caresses San’s cheek, urging the other man to pull away from you and tell him what to do. San responds to the silent signal instantly, his dark eyes snapping away from you and towards his lover. Too crazed by lust, not even a moment passes before — instead of speaking — San leans over you and laces his fingers through Wooyoung’s hair. He pulls the younger man closer and captures his lips in a passionate kiss right before your eyes.
You take in the sight before you with parted lips and thighs squeezing together. Wooyoung’s eyes flutter closed, his long eyelashes brushing against San’s. It amazes you how even such small, insignificant parts of their bodies cannot seem to bear without touching. Their lips move in harmony and you're at such an angle that you can see their tongues intertwining in a battle for dominance that San quickly and easily wins. When they finally pull away from one another, their lips are red and swollen, glistening with spit.
"Woah, what's going on here?"
Yunho’s voice pierces the air, instantly breaking the mood and bringing the three of you back into reality.
Snapping out of his flustered state, Wooyoung clears his throat and manages to respond without missing a beat. "We were back here playing truth or dare, and (Y/N) dared the two of us to kiss."
"Damn, making your boyfriend kiss another dude? I had no idea you were so kinky," Mingi jokes, wiggling his eyebrows.
You don't even know how to respond. How much did they see? How much do they know? What—
"Anyway, the movie is over. Considering it's almost 3 AM and I have a Saturday class, I think we're gonna head out," Jongho says, interrupting your frenzied thoughts. "(Y/N), do you want us to walk you back to your apartment?"
San gets up, stretching his back before turning to face the other boys. "I actually have something to discuss with her before she leaves but I'll get her across the hall safely, don't worry."
Jongho nods, although you don't miss the way his eyes narrow suspiciously. "Alright, whatever you say." He heads to the door to join Yunho and Mingi in putting on his shoes, whispering something to the two of them as he leans down. Mingi looks your way and says something back which leads to Yunho hitting both him and Jongho on their backs and forcing them to move towards the door.
"Well, thanks for the fun night, guys," Yunho says, waving half-heartedly as he uses his other arm to finish putting on his left shoe. "Again, sorry for crashing. And not staying to help clean up, but you know... Places to be."
Wooyoung shrugs, picking up some scattered beer cans and throwing them away. "No biggie. If you guys ever wanna hang again, just drop by. We're always looking for company."
"Thanks for the invite. And (Y/N)," Jongho pauses, looking at you and raising an eyebrow. "Uh... get back safe."
You laugh, awkwardly playing with a loose strand of your hair. "I-I'm right across the hall, I'll be fine. See you guys in class Monday."
With one last wave from him and the other guys, Mingi closes the apartment door. San is on top of it seconds later, making sure it's locked. Wooyoung, who was in the middle of cleaning up some more trash the boys left in their wake, drops everything, startling you.
He laughs. "Sorry, doll, didn't mean to startle you, but I'm gonna clean up tomorrow. There are more important things I need to deal with."
He moves forward and grabs your hand, pulling you against his body. He's taller than you, but not by much. It's a comfortable height for—
He kisses you as if reading your mind. Finally, you can relax without having to worry about your friends catching you, and you lose yourself in him, in his taste, in his scent. He smells of sandalwood and tastes of wine, a wonderful combination. You tangle your hands in his hair, pulling on it lightly just like San does. He growls and nips your lip, hips automatically jutting against yours in response. You smile — he seems to like that.
You jump slightly when you feel San come up behind you, lacing his arms around your torso, but his whispered "sweetheart" calms you instantly. One of his hands pushes up the bottom of your shirt, tracing the skin there, and you shiver. Being sandwiched between these two men is something you've only dreamt of. You would have imagined it to actually happen, and certainly not in a scenario like this. But here you are. And you love every second of it.
"Should we take this to the bedroom?" Wooyoung asks, placing his forehead on yours as he attempts to steady his ragged breathing.
"Don't rush her, baby," San says, pulling away from you slightly. "If she wants our fun to end here for now, that's alright. We can continue another day." Coming to stand in front of you, he wraps his arm around Wooyoung’s waist, lovingly kissing his cheek. Wooyoung whines and moves closer to San, pressing his ass against him. San shushes him and turns back to you. "What will it be, (Y/N)? Don't worry about this one; I can always take care of him myself."
You want them. That's something you know for sure. But if you ignore the aching in your core, there's still some hesitance. A haze of confusion, the feeling of being unsure. So that leads you to say what you do.
"I can't do this yet."
San nods as if he was expecting you to say this. Wooyoung pouts.
"I... tonight was incredible. And I definitely want more. I just... I need to think. Research. There are so many things I don't know. I can't dive into something like this blind."
Collecting himself, Wooyoung separates from San. "We understand, (Y/N). Whenever you're ready, we'll be here."
"If you have any questions about something you find or are confused, you can always come to us. We'll tell you anything you want to know," San adds.
"I might just take you up on that offer," you say, heading to the door and putting on your shoes. Just like last time, Wooyoung comes and opens the door for you, but before you can leave, he stops you by grabbing your wrist.
He places a swift, yet soft, kiss on your lips, murmuring a "goodnight, doll," as he pulls away. Leaving you in a daze, he goes back inside, smiling at you sweetly before closing the door behind him.
As you walk back to your own apartment, your imagination begins to run wild, picturing what he and San could be doing without you. You sigh. Guess you’re turning to your fingers again tonight. Then tomorrow, your research starts.
Yunho and Mingi had been dating for quite a long time. It seemed they started loving each other back in middle school, confessed in high school, and began dating. They even enrolled in the same university. Literally everyone knew about their relationship by the time they started college. Everyone knew. And you did too. So what the hell were you doing, falling in love with your best friends?
Your interaction with them started gradually: you’d exchange a few words during shared lectures because you sat next to each other, then sometimes meet during breaks, sometimes in parks, and later at parties. Slowly but surely, you became their best friend. As friends, you really liked them. They were like two puppies who loved to cuddle. You loved cuddling too. The perfect trio, right? You knew about their relationship and fully supported it—they were so sweet together! You even felt a little jealous watching them sometimes; after all, you still hadn’t been in a relationship, despite being fairly popular on campus. Unfortunately, no one really caught your interest. Or so you thought.
You didn’t realize right away when you started developing feelings for them, but a turning point came at one of the parties.
Everyone was drunk as usual, music was playing, people were talking or laughing loudly. You were sitting on a couch chatting with your girlfriends when your gaze landed on Yunho and Mingi in the opposite corner of the living room. They were kissing. You were used to it by then. Hard not to be, when those two seemed to devour each other. But that night, something tugged at your chest. You never figured out what it was.
That strange feeling never left you whenever you saw your best friends. It didn’t matter if they were together or apart. Your heart clenched every time you saw them, and it felt like your insides were twisting into knots. All these emotions weighed on you. What the hell was happening? You were so desperate that you locked yourself in your apartment for a few days to sort yourself out. Your friends texted you almost every hour with messages like: "How are you?", "Did you eat?", "Is everything okay?", "Should we come over and suffer together??" and so on. Each message made you tremble, your heart pounding wildly. You finally understood what was happening. You had fallen in love.
This realization was accompanied by laughter and tears. Damn it, you’d fallen in love not only with your best friends, but with two guys who were dating each other! Just perfect. You cried all through the first day, calmed down (with great difficulty) on the second, and by the third, you’d accepted it. What else could you do? Go and scream about your hopeless love to them? No way. You weren’t ready to humiliate yourself and lose their friendship and trust.
And so began your "survival." You thought it would be easy, but things didn’t go very well.
Every time you saw them, you felt jealous. You were jealous that they only kissed each other, and not you. Jealous because they didn’t look at you the way they looked at each other. And that jealousy burned your heart. Why the hell were you even jealous?! You told yourself you had no right, but the burning envy never left you. However, you found a way to cope with it—alcohol.
You became a regular at parties, whether alone or with Yunho and Mingi. Alcohol clouded your mind enough that for a moment, you could forget about Yunho’s puppy-dog eyes and Mingi’s sweet lips. But the relief alcohol brought faded as quickly as the hangover headaches arrived.
So you started sleeping with almost anyone who even slightly resembled your best friends. Honestly, it made you feel a little loved by them, even if it wasn’t real. Sometimes you had one partner, sometimes two. And every time, you pictured Yunho or Mingi. Or both at once. Of course, out of pride and shame, you never uttered their names—otherwise, you’d have burst into tears at the first sound.
You also started distancing yourself a little from your friends, and they noticed. You began avoiding eye contact, skipping meetups, sometimes even ignoring them. They tried to talk to you, but you’d brush it off every time, blaming your studies. The only problem was, you were never particularly passionate about studying.
Lying to those close to you wasn’t pleasant, but you didn’t have much of a choice. What would they think if they knew the truth? You didn’t even want to imagine. It was much easier not to tell the truth, at least in your opinion.
｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆
You wake up with a terrible headache. A hangover is definitely not how you like to start your mornings.
Last night, you decided to drink—something you hadn’t done in a while—and clearly overdid it. You reach out to find your phone but come up empty.
Sighing, you slowly sit up in bed and, not spotting your phone, get up. Your vision immediately darkens, forcing you to sit back down, rubbing your temples.
Damn, you should’ve just spent the evening miserably sober.
Once the pain subsides, you drag yourself to the kitchen. Several empty bottles on the table testify to where you got drunk.
At the edge of the table, you spot your phone and snatch it up. It’s already 1:24 PM—thank goodness it’s the weekend—but what catches your attention isn’t the time.
34 missed calls from YuYu.
27 missed calls from GiGi.
54 unread messages in the group chat.
What the fuck happened?
You stare at the notifications, but you can’t remember anything from last night. Unlocking your phone, you see that your group chat with Yunho and Mingi is open.
And then you see what you wish you hadn’t. You sent them a damn confession message. Holy shit.
You immediately lock your phone. How humiliating.
Before you can sink further into shame, loud knocking echoes from the front door. Then another. And another.
You start toward the door, but the voice from the other side freezes you in place.
"If you don’t open this door right now, I’ll break it down."
Yunho’s voice, quiet but clear, rings in your ears.
Another voice follows.
"Y/N, please open the door."
Mingi’s pleading, gentle voice also carries through the door.
A shiver runs down your spine.
Fuck, what are you going to do now?
Hehe, and here's a new AU! I dreamed about it day and night, but in my head it looked much better... Still, I'm somewhat satisfied with the result!
And by the way, it's another "in love with best friends" trope!!! Seems like someone has a hyperfixation on this cliché... (let's not point fingers)(▀ Ĺ̯▀ )
Who would you like the next AU to be about? Woosan or Jongang? Or maybe just one member??? Or... do you want a continuation of something?!(⊙_⊙)
Author's Note: So I decided to repost this WIP from before I cleared my account. I'm thinking about making this into a full written series which I'll post here on Tumblr and also on AO3. But until I actually fully plan it out, I'll post some other scenes I have written for this. It is subject to change though seeing as though this is a very rough draft.
“So, I kind of have a question for you.”
Your eyes peeled away from your Microbiology textbook and to the freckled man sitting across from you.
“And I might kind of have an answer for you,” you said, playfully.
Felix let out a huff of a laugh, hands running through his freshly re-dyed blond hair. You immediately noticed that his “laugh” didn’t reach his eyes and that his shoulder were visibly tensed. You sat up straightener, eyebrows furrowing together.
“What’s wrong?” You asked, tone serious.
Felix shook his head at that, reaching over and grabbing his bubble tea. He took a sip of it before focusing back on you. “Nothing’s wrong,” he said. “It’s just the question I have might be uhhh weird.”
“Seeing as you’re asking me in the middle of a busy ass cafe I don’t think it’s gonna be that weird,” you mused, still worried.
“We came here to study,” Felix said. “But I can’t focus with how busy it is right now.”
“So you decided to ask a weird question?” You asked.
“I just want your opinion on something.”
“Ask away.”
Felix sucked in a deep breath, eyes locking with yours. “What do you think about poly relationships?”
You blink a few times, confusion taking over. Tilting your head at him you ask, “Poly relationships?”
He nodded. “Are you against them or do you think they’re weird?”
“No. I’m not against them nor do think they’re weird. If everyone is happy in the relationship and it works for them, I really don’t see the problem.”
“You seem sure in your answer,” Felix said obviously a little surprised. “Most people aren’t.”
“I had a senior last year that was in a poly relationship,” you said with a shrug. “So, I’m not exactly new to it.”
“Wait, really?”
You nodded. “It was actually my first kind of… interaction-- if that’s the right way to put it— with one.” You smiled a little. “I knew he was in a relationship but I had no idea it was with multiple people. But one day I saw him kissing one guy and then the next day I saw him kissing another. So I was like oh my god! He’s cheating?! He didn’t seem like the cheating type you know? He was so sweet and such a gentleman. It actually threw me off. But then one of the other seniors in the class explained that he was a poly relationship. Before that I had honestly never given that type of relationship much thought. It wasn’t that I was against them or anything obviously, its just I’ve never actually witnessed one before that.”
“Were you close to this senior?” Felix asked.
“Not really?” You said. “We got paired up for a project randomly in the middle of the semester so it wasn’t like we didn’t talk. But he wasn’t one to share a lot about his personal life. He was really introverted but really, really cute. And like I said a gentleman. Even though he didn’t share much about himself he was always really sweet to me.”
“You had a crush on him, didn’t you?” Felix teased.
You pouted. “Maybe a tiny one. Again he was cute and sweet but he was taken so I would never go for him.”
“Even though he was in a poly relationship?”
“Yes? One he was in a relationship with two men so, I genuinely don’t know if he would even swing my way too. And again, he was taken. He may have multiple partners but I understand not all of those relationships are just… open?”
Felix hummed in understanding. “But if it was,” he said almost unsure, “do you think you could picture yourself in that type of relationship.”
You sat back in your chair thinking. “I don’t know? That’s definitely something I haven’t given thought to before. But if I was being honest, probably not. I mean, I have had crushes on multiple people at once. But actually being in love with multiple people and dating them all at once might be too much for me. It just seems like…” You trailed off, trying to find the right wording.
“A lot of work?” Felix asked almost knowingly.
You winced a little but nodded none of the less. “Again, I’m not against them. At all. I’m definitely a love who you want, however you want type of person. But I think for me, I can barely take care of and keep up with myself. So, the thought of trying to do that with one other person alone is daunting. Multiple people? I don’t think I could.”
“Did your senior never talk to you about how his relationship worked at least?”
“Nope. I don’t even think he knew that I knew. I never mentioned it because I didn’t want him to be uncomfortable. He really did not share his personal life so I thought that if I brought it up, he would pull away. Especially because I know relationships like that a really looked down on.”
Felix nodded at that. “I can confirm a relationship like that is a lot of work,” he said.
“Huh?” You asked, confused.
“I’m in a poly relationship.”
“HUH?!”
Multiple people in the cafe whipped their heads around to stare at you after your loud outburst. You sunk into your seat more, glaring at a cackling Felix.
“I didn’t even know you were in any type of relationship to begin with, Lix,” you said, honestly shocked— and maybe a little heartbroken. “But now you’re telling me you have multiple partners?”
“Seven to be exact,” Felix said with a soft smile. “I have seven boyfriends. We all live together too.”
That had your eyes almost bugging out of your head. “S-s-seven?”
Felix nodded. “Yep.”
“How do you…”
“How do I manage it?” Felix asked knowingly.
You nodded.
“Trust me it was difficult at first to find the a balance but over the years we’ve gotten better” he said. “A lot actually. We’re all very in tune with one another. And yes, it can be a lot of work but I wouldn’t trade it for the world honestly.”
“There’s no jealousy or like… I don’t know, fights about things?”
“Jealousy between us? No. They all are kind of possessive though.” Felix laughed at that. “And yeah, we have arguments. Not many but I think in any type of relationship you will eventually, you know?. But we’re all very open with one another. We sit down and talk things out. We all take care of one another and our feelings.”
“Did you start dating all at once or?” You asked even more curious now.
Felix laughed again. “Oh god no,” he said. “It was gradual? It took a good two— almost three— years for us all to actually get together.”
You smiled softly at Felix. Even though the shock — and admittedly heartbreak— of the man you have the biggest crush on was actually already taken was still ebbing at your heart, you couldn’t help but feel happy for him. Because he looked happy. His eyes were glowing and he had this smile while talking about them that showed his love already.
“So it isn’t a date whoever you want type of relationship?” You asked. But then panicked. “Not to sound rude—“
Felix smiled at you. “It’s not rude don’t worry,” he said. “I know a relationship like mine can be confusing but I don’t mind explaining it. We’re in a closed relationship. Well, in a way? It was definitely a trial and error thing for a good while. But we’ve never shied away from sharing our crushes with one another. But it’s strictly if you date one, you date all. All eight of us have to agree too. We’ve had two people be added before but they…” He trailed off for a moment almost seemingly pained. He took a deep breath before continuing. “They didn’t work out. So, over the last few years it really has just been the eight of us. None of us have proposed bringing anyone else in.”
His eyes settled back on you, his gaze soft. “I am one of the more open side about sharing our relationship than some of the others,” he said. “But even then, it’s not often because we do get a lot of criticism. It’s not like it’s necessarily a secret or anything. A lot of people know about it actually. But, you’re my friend. And I really like you. So, I wanted to share this with you because I would love for you to meet them Y/N.”
You shifted a little. “Meet them?” You asked.
“One of my boyfriend’s childhood friends, Lia, is having a birthday party soon,” Felix said, scrounging through his bag. “A lot of people from the university are going to be there though so it’s not like you wouldn’t know anyone.” He handed you a pretty pink envelope. “I asked if I could bring a ‘plus one’ since all of my boyfriends already have their own invites. She agreed and gave me another one for you.”
You took the invite carefully from his hands. “Wait,” you said. “Lia? As in Choi Jisu?”
Felix nodded. “You’ve heard of her?”
“Yeah,” you said. “I went to high school with her girlfriend.”
“You went to high school with Yuna?!” Felix exclaimed.
You laughed a little. “We graduated the same year? We weren’t close cause I was only there our senior year. We did share literature classes our first and second year of university though. She mentioned Lia a couple times when we did talk. Plus, Haewon is friends with her too.”
“You need a bigger friend group Y/N,” Felix said.
“I have plenty of friends thank you,” you said with a pout.
“Your friend group consists of Sunoo, Sangwon, and Seunghan,” Felix said deadpan. “And why all S names?”
“Don’t shit on my boys,” you said. “I’m friends with Jaehyun too so, it’s not all S.”
“You need more female friends.”
“I have female friends.”
“You barely hang out with Haewon, Y/N. I think you and Yuna would be great friends honestly.”
You pouted more.
“Come to the party,” Felix said. “Meet my boyfriends and maybe make friends with Yuna at least.”
“I don’t know,” you said. “It’s not like I don’t want to meet your boyfriends, Lix. I do. I really do. But I’m not the most comfortable in going to a party without one of my friends you know.”
“You’re not comfortable going somewhere without Sunoo,” Felix said with a knowing look.
You winced a little at that. Okay, maybe you were a little too dependent and attached to your best friend.
“Can I think about it?” You asked.
“Of course you can,” Felix said. “And if you don’t want to go to the party then, I understand. Maybewe can figure out somewhere else for you to meet them all where you’d be comfortable.”
— — —
“So you’re telling me,” Sunoo began, “that the guy you’ve had a massive crush on for months, is in already in a relationship and he never told you?”
You stopped your pacing and turned to look at your best friend who was currently sitting on the edge your bed. Sangwon was stretched out on it behind him, comfortably lounging into your pillows.
“That’s not even all of it,” you said.
“There’s no way it can get worse,” Sangwon said, voice obviously heavy with exhaustion.
“He’s in a relationship with seven other men.”
Now that had Sangwon sitting up. He and Sunoo both stared at you, wide eyed.
“What?” Sangwon asked, now sounding very much awake.
“What the fuck is your luck?” Sunoo asked. “First it was the senior you never talk about anymore and now Lee Felix? Both of your crushes, two years in a row are in poly relationships?”
“With all men,” Sangwon added.
You groaned, walking over to your bed and plopping down next to Sunoo.
“I was thinking about confessing to Felix,” you mumbled, resting your head against Sunoo’s shoulder.
“You were?” Sangwon asked, obviously a little surprised.
“After the project,” you said. “I don’t know. There were times I thought that maybe he was attracted to me or maybe that he actually liked me a little bit. But now I know he’s a taken man and I was being delusional. My luck really is shit.”
“I thought you were all ‘my crushes are just crushes I am not ready for a relationship’?” Sunoo asked.
“But it’s Lee Felix,” you sighed.
“Okay yeah,” Sunoo agreed. “Understandable.”
“He wants me to meet them.”
“His boyfriends?” Sangwon asked.
You nodded slowly, cheek still pressed against Sunoo’s shoulder. “At Lia’s birthday party. He gave me an invite.”
“Yuna’s girlfriend?” Sunoo asked.
You hummed.
“I don’t see the problem with that?” Sangwon said. “He obviously considers you to be a close friend if he wants you to actually meet them all.”
“But she doesn’t want to be just friends with him Won,” Sunoo corrected.
You shook your head at that. “I want to keep our friendship. He’s an amazing person. I’ll get over my crush eventually.”
“You really need more female friends,” Sangwon said with a sigh.
“You sound just like Lix,” you replied with a pout.
“Do you not want to meet his boyfriends?” Sunoo asked.
“I do,” you said. “It’s just…”
“You don’t like going to parties,” Sangwon finished.
You nodded. “Lix said I would probably know people there. And I mean I know Yuna. We’re just not close. Plus Haewon is most likely gonna be there. But... I don’t know. It’s weird if you guys aren’t there.”
“We need invites to get in?” Sunoo asked.
“That’s what it seems like yeah,” you said.
“I’ll ask Yuna then,” Sangwon said. “Maybe I can get ones for Seunghan and Jaehyun too.”
Synopsis: What happens when a dare turns into you being seduced into a desperate ghost's jaws?
WC: 4.3k
Warnings: Smut, unprotected sex (but he's a ghost, so does it matter?), whiny Jisung (are we surprised), ghost!jisung, his name isn't mentioned at all in the fic, so you could imagine whoever you want to really, slight temperature play, slight dead dove, slight dub con (the reader doesn't explicitly consent, but she's very into it), mentions of mental institutions, reader has terrible friends, slight begging, I think that's all? lmk
A/N: I'm backkkkkk! Well, maybe not back officially, but I finally wrote! I tried to make it as long as I could, but I also have a series in the making, so.... fun things. I've been very focused with school and dealing with some other things, so I haven't been posting a lot...sorry :((. But on the bright side, here I am now, just in time to post something for the spooky season, yeah??? Thanks to my beta @midnighthazee. Enjoy :)
SKZ Masterlist
⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅-`✮´-⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅
“It’s just a dare,” Amena muttered, standing in front of the gates of the Tranquility Mental Institution. The once-grand Victorian-style building was now just a remnant of its former glory, with peeling paint and shattered windows. “Go up to the pumpkin, take a selfie, and get out.”
You adjusted the black cat ears on your head – part of a half-hearted costume – and glanced down at the jack-o’-lantern resting on the porch. Its grin was too wide, and it hadn’t been there yesterday when your friend group was scoping out the place.
The dare had been “simple”; Go to the Asylum down the street from the middle school – everyone knew it – and go up to the porch with the pumpkin on it. All you had to do was take a selfie with it.
You took a deep breath and pushed open the rusted gate. It groaned, sounding like it hadn’t been moved in the last 80 years. The overgrown path crunched beneath your boots as you approached the porch. The jack-o’-lantern’s eyes glowed faintly now, though there was no candle inside.
You paused at the steps, the air feeling thicker – colder, too. Your fingers hovered over your phone, ready to snap the picture of it and run. You took a quick glance over your shoulder and froze when you realized your friends were gone. No trace of them.
You tried looking through the gaps in the gate, not seeing anyone there. Did they really just leave you there? They wouldn’t do that, right?
That didn’t matter right now. You snapped the selfie quickly, wanting to get it over with before you lost your nerve and ran away.
As you turned around to bolt, you felt a cold chill wrap around your body – a whisper in your ear that was barely there, and not enough for you to hear what it was saying. As you took one step further, it whispered again – louder this time.
“Come inside,” it breathed into your ear.
Your heart hammered in your chest as something icy slipped down your spine. Your hands shook so hard you almost dropped your phone.
The world in front of you went hazy, adrenaline fueling your fight or flight response while your body simultaneously wanting to pass out from fear.
You spun, scanning the porch and yard, hoping it was just one of your asshole friends playing a prank on you, pretending to be a ghost – but there was no one. Not even a car driving by in the distance. Just you, the jack-o’-lantern, and the horrifyingly dark entrance of the asylum.
“Good one, guys,” you called, putting on a nervous smile and hoping the very fake confidence might summon one of your friends. Maybe they were crouched behind the thick hedge, one hand over their mouths and losing their shit at your freakout.
But your breath fogged white, and you could see every exhale, even though Halloween in–
“Aaah!” You screamed, tripping backwards into the grass as you felt a cold hand wrap its way around the nape of your neck. When you scrambled up, the gate behind you was closed and…locked? And everything was eerily silent save for the low whine of the wind through the broken glass of the first floor windows.
“Come inside,” it repeated. This time, the voice vibrated in your bones, an itch at the base of your skull. You swallowed, cheeks burning hot and cold, ears ringing as you did the only reasonable thing you could: you sprinted up the rest of the stairs and shouldered through the rotting wood of the front door.
It groaned as it opened wide, the noise startling you (more than you already were) and echoing down the long entry hallway.
The heavy sweet stench of mildewed paper and still water hit you, and behind it – the smell of blood. Your lungs shivered. The foyer was just as decrepit as it looked from the street: checkered tiles covered in dust, and the desk where a receptionist probably once sat covered in old newspaper and dead leaves.
You told yourself you were just going to take another photo – proof you hadn’t pussied out and actually stepped a foot inside – and then run. But the stairs groaned behind you. Not a settling, not an echo. Actual footsteps, measured and soft.
You turned, too scared to know if you were hoping to see someone or not. But there was nothing. Just the vacant steps of the staircase, the slow drift of dust falling in the spaces of outside light.
But then the sound again – closer now, above you, crossing slowly from the left balcony to the right.
Creak…creak…creak.
You clutched your phone and, after a brief war between flight and paralysis, let your feet drag you toward the staircase.
Each step up was deliberate, performed by an idiotic body that had its own control and logic now, apparently. The steps canted under your weight, old treads slick with grime. As you climbed to the first landing, something shifted in the corner of your eye, hovering and retreating. Then, just the eerily dark hallway. Above, on the next landing, hung a battered portrait: a young man in a bellhop uniform, unsmiling, his hands at his sides in a formal at-ease. His face was pale and dry, and the man's strange, staring eyes hadn’t fallen victim to the peeling paint.
A shiver ran through your spine, not the usual or good kind, but the kind that made your knees want to buckle. “Come inside,” you remembered, but it was obviously too late to reconsider.
You made yourself walk down the hall, shoulders tight, every muscle braced for a hand to dart from a shadow or a rat to launch from the wainscoting. But the hall was empty, only lined with more strange portraits – lots of them being of children with dark, unreadable faces. Above it all, a chandelier crusted in dust and dead flies swung ever so slightly in the shifting air.
The double doors at the end of the hallway were cracked open. You pressed forward, shoe soles clinging onto the carpet that was once maybe green, but was not only gray with dust.
The dare – the stupid, fucking dare – pulsed in your head; pumpkin, selfie, leave. The math was simple. But somehow you winded up here in this insanely creepy asylum.
The doors were open just wide enough for you to see that the room beyond them was awash in light. Not the ugly looking yellow bulbed kind you would have expected, but a clean white, almost surgical light.
Shadows creeped from the hallway into the room, making the hallway seem like the worst place to be compared to the clean room you were currently in.
The carpet in the room had been replaced – recently, maybe last week, or in some other calendar not recorded in human time. It was pale blue and flat. There were hospital beds, four of them, all stripped down to their metal bones. The white light came from a single floor lamp that looked like it’d been stolen from an Ikea in the late 1900’s.
Beyond the beds, something waited. Not a shape, exactly – more an indentation in the light, or a fold in the weight of the air.
“You came,” you heard the voice again, sounding like it was right in your ear. It no longer sounded like a change in the wind, but more like a shuddering broken sound beating against the side of your skull.
The cold in the room surged up your arms, threading through the veins and capillaries until you could barely keep your teeth from chattering and your body standing upright.
The fold in the air didn’t move but you sensed its satisfaction. It waited as you grasped the words at the tip of your tongue. You eventually heard yourself say, “What do you want?” Although the sound sounded like it was coming from someone else.
It laughed. The sound cold and echoey in the big empty room.
“What do you want?” you whispered again.
The pressure in the room doubled, then halved. The fold grew, congealing into a phase-shifted outline of a man: not the bellhop, but wearing white just like him. The edges of his face were painfully clear, as if he were the only thing in infinite focus and the world was a blur behind.
“You’re the first to come alone,” he said, or maybe you only felt him say it, his voice thin and making its way straight into your mind. “Do you want to see what it’s like?”
The beds in the room shuddered forward, scraping inch by inch in your direction. You tried to back away but your legs wouldn’t obey; your body belonged to the cold, to the thing in white. Your skin prickled as he moved closer, every nerve ending remembering every time you’d fled from something, and now you couldn’t even take a step.
There was nothing in you except the thundering cold, and the white obsidian haze eating through your natural human instinct to scream.
The beds ground to a halt. He reached with a hand that glimmered – insubstantial one second and then terrifyingly solid the next – and cupped your jaw in a grip that was neither hot nor cold nor any temperature a living body knew.
For a moment, you thought he meant to snap your neck, or squeeze your life out through your throat, right there.
Instead, the pressure relented, his hand still on your jaw. You blinked, the world resolving back into the low-resolution hallway behind you, the stink of mildew in the air, your own breath sawing in and out, harsh and animal. The bed to your left creaked under invisible weight, and then the other beds as well, until you stood in the center of a ring, surrounded on all sides by the metal bones of the bed.
A shudder rolled up your spine, and your knees threatened to buckle again, but the hand on your jaw steadied you, fingers tracing the line of your throat. There was a pulse there, fluttering and wild – a detail that seemed to fascinate the ghost.
The ghost. That’s what he was.
He leaned closer, not ruggedly handsome, but beautiful in the way that the sun peaked through the curtains in the morning. His features carried a boyish charm sharpened by time, and when he smiled, it was all warmth – despite the obvious coldness that came with his touch.
“Your warmth,” he said, voice no longer a blast into your skull, but a whisper just barely caressing your ears. “It’s all I can think about right now. You’re so…alive.”
The hand on your jaw slid down past your neck and rested over your heart. You swear you saw something shift behind his eyes, and ache, a hunger, a longing for life so strong it made your skin crawl.
“You smell like the autumn air,” he murmured, “and I haven’t tasted that in decades.”
Panic fluttered sharply in your throat and down your spine, but you couldn’t move, not an inch. The ghost’s fingers pressed into your chest, thumbs splayed over the slight swell of your collarbones, and a ripple of cold seared through your skin. You thought of frost creeping over the windowpanes of your parents old house, the way it bit at your fingers when you touched it in wonder. That’s how his grip felt – not violent, not dangerous, but sharp and intricate, as if he were learning your shape and warmth by heart.
He angled his head, close enough to you that you could see the ghostly mimicry of want in his eyes, the almost-human glimmer of teeth beneath his parted lips.
“It’s not fair, you know,” he whispered again, almost bitter in tone, “how you walk the earth all leaking heat…and none of it for me?”
His tone made it seem as though there was a frustration or longing that was breaking through his composure. It felt more human, more painful.
You would have wept if your nerves could muster the effort for it, but instead you stood, blinking at the raw hunger in his hollow gaze, shaking.
He drew his face to yours, so close you could see the way his uncanny pupils dilated, black holes swallowing the dim light, as if your nearness was the only thing in the world that mattered to him right now.
“You don’t even know,” he said, and it was almost a desperate moan the way he said it, as if he was holding himself back. “How heavy the emptiness is. How long it’s been since someone let me have a taste.”
His thumb stroked your cheek, and the chill of it radiated through your skull, numbing every one of your neurons that wanted to fire in fear until you could barely remember what it meant to be truly afraid.
“I used to watch them, always in pairs, always so warm. They never let me in. Not really. Not the way I needed. But you–” He dropped his forehead against yours, his body flickering with the strain of proximity – “You let me in, yeah? Just a little. Just enough…”
You felt your mouth part, desperate for air, for a word, for a sound – anything. Anything to come out of your mouth. The ghost’s breath ghosted cold along your lips, the exact opposite of what you’d ever imagined a kiss to be and yet somehow so much more.
Your eyelids fluttered, heavy with the chemical lull of fear and anticipation, and when you opened them again, he was there – really there, a face that longed for warmth, grieved for it and the touch that came with it. He was hungry for it, almost like he was addicted and finally getting his fill.
His mouth met yours, and the world vanished – more than it already had. There was no taste at first, only the pressure of it, firm and insistent, a negative of heat – your own temperature reflecting back at you until you felt yourself become as heated as a furnace.
His tongue was cold, temperature so sharp it registered as pain, but then – somehow – it was pleasure. And it was blurring the lines between the two until you had no choice but to feel more of the pleasure part. His hands stayed at your face for a moment, thumbs anchoring your jaw before moving over your shoulders, then sliding in a slow exploratory way sweep down your arms.
Your skin prickled, hairs rising like you’d stepped outside right into the snow. Your head was hazy with static, almost as if you were being controlled.
The ghost's body pressed against yours – shifting between his two states so fast you felt like you were being broken down mentally and rebuilt to give him warmth all at once.
He moaned into your mouth, a noise so raw it vibrated your teeth, and the force of it staggered you backwards against one of the hospital beds. The frame rattled, its metal shrieking faintly, and the ghost shivered with delight, his hands bracing your hips as if he wanted to pin you down and never let go.
“You taste – fuck, you tase so warm, so alive,” he rasped, and you realized he was breathing hard, his chest moving like a humans might after a morning jog. And you understood, on some subconscious level you’d never admit outloud, that you had wanted him to kiss you. Needed him to.
Maybe you had always wanted it, in the dark corners of your mind, where the scary movies and horror novels made you shiver in ache and wish for something to push you past the point of being afraid.
His hands never paused. They slid, slick and greedy, under your shirt, fingers cool and charged as they traced the trembling planes of your stomach. Every brush of his lifeless coldness left a burning feeling on your skin, and it was like he was mapping your body, learning every single curve and scar.
“Fuck, you’re so warm – so warm –” he kept saying, voice breaking and reforming around the vowels. “I could eat you up. I could die all over again for this, oh my–”
You gasped as he pressed you back onto the narrow bed – the metal digging into your spine through the thin mattress adorning it – and climbed on top of you, knees bracketing your thighs, his pelvis flush against yours.
The world flickered at the edges of your vision, all the colors gone to blue and white, and above you he hovered, the hunger on his face almost consuming the both of you.
He yanked your shirt up, cold fingers biting your sides as he peeled it away from your shoulders and flung it to the floor, then dove down and pressed his mouth – in all of its cold, stinging pleasure – against your neck, your collar, your chest. Everywhere. Every inch of skin he touched went numb at first, then became hypersensitive, your nipples pebbling instantly under his lips and tongue, your back arching up to meet him.
There was a small, inconsequential moment you worried about the visible marks, the bruise, but then you realized nothing about this would ever be visible. Your body was remembered by his touch only, and you wanted him to memorize every single part of you.
“Gosh, fuck–” he bit the words into your flesh, the syllables clinging there and vibrating through the bone. “You have no idea. No fucking idea what you’re doing to me.”
The hands under your waistband trembled with a desperation that seemed impossible for something so cold, so dead. It was all a paradox – the hunger in him more alive than anything you had ever been up close to.
You buckled under the intensity of his grip, and he laughed – a sound more animal than human – or ghost. The growl of someone who had been denied for so long that the first taste drove them mad. He slid down, tongue cold and glassy as it traced the line of your sternum, down to the valley of your stomach.
When he hooked his thumbs in the waistband of your jeans, you almost told him to wait, to be careful, but then he was tearing at them, knuckles bruising your hips as he wrenched the denim past your knees.
“Please,”
At first, you thought he had said that. The begging tone, the desperation, his voice had sounded like that ever since you first heard him. But it wasn’t him.
It was you.
The first word you had uttered since you stepped into this room.
The ghost paused, face inches from your stomach, as if the sound itself had paralyzed him completely. His hands stilled, clutching the waistband with enough force that you felt the vibration of it, the tension, like you’d just shouted into a silent field and the air wouldn’t stop ringing with the sound of your voice.
His gaze snapped up, and you saw in those impossible pupils a kind of intoxication so strong you were the one who felt dizzy.
“Say it again,” he pleaded, voice hoarse and desperate. His fingers flexed on your waist, imprinting his touch so deep into your skin you would for sure feel it tomorrow. “Please. I need…” The rest of the sentence crumbled, caught between a hiss and a sob.
He yanked your legs apart, adjusting himself to sit between them, and running his hands up and down your body in awe.
You heard your own breath hitch as you whispered out “Please.”
Your voice undid him. The ghost shifted up over your body, wanting, with his hands frantic at your skin.
“Oh, fuck, yes – more,” his voice quivered, a desperate look on his face. “I want to hear it, yeah? I want to hear every word you give me. I need it. You don’t know–” His mouth found your throat, cutting himself off. He had to gather himself before he opened his mouth again.
“You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for someone to talk to me. How dark it gets. How desperate I get.”
His hands, trembling, caressed the inside of your thighs up to your hips and back down again, greedy and reverent and almost shaking. “You’re perfect. So warm and – fuck – perfect for me.”
You barely heard him, barely heard yourself breathe or think. Your mind was locked in on one single point of focus where his hands were gripping your thighs. You should have been cold under him, but instead your skin burned, and as he pressed his hips down and ground against you, you could feel the outline of him – so delicious it made you whimper.
He bit your hip. Not hard enough to break skin, but with enough force for your body to arch, trying to offer more of itself up. He surged up, kissing you with a sudden violence, so deep and greedy it felt like your mouth was gonna be bruised for the next three weeks.
Your hips bucked up before you could even think, needing friction, and you felt his hips grind back down onto you. The ghost’s hands guided you, lifted your hips, and you felt the strange, shivery, sensation of him moving his hips on you desperately.
His cold fingers slipped between your legs, spreading you open, and then all you could do was gasp and clutch at his shoulders. They parted you in a clumsy like eagerness, and you wanted to tease him about it, but then he pressed them up against that spot inside of you and your head fell back against the mattress with a moan.
He groaned, sounding like he was in agony. “I need to be inside of you. Now.”
You could only register the feeling of him thrusting into you for the first time, cold and solid and fitting into you perfectly. You bit down hard on his shoulder, felt your own teeth slide through nothing but still meet something. The shock of his dick inside you moving at a fast and pleasuring pace made your eyes roll back.
He filled you so nicely, every part of you, and you could feel the hunger that coursed through him through his thrusts. The feeling making you burn.
He pounded into you with a rhythm so desperate it bordered on aggressive, the metal of the bed frame rattling out every time he thrusted into you. There was no time for slow, no time for soft. His hips snapped against yours relentlessly, his longing hunger finally being satiated.
You felt his cold cock pulse and grow impossibly harder inside of you, and you swore you could feel the chill of it run up your spine and spiral throughout your limbs, every nerve freezing over.
“God, you’re warm – every part of you – fuck, I can feel it everywhere,” he moaned, burying his face into your neck. His voice, every word, came out wet and broken. “It’s like you’re melting me, baby,” he rambled, “like you’re burning up everything I used to be and I can’t– fuck, I love it so much. Wanna live in you.”
All you could do was moan and whine. No thoughts were processing and every single word you had in the back of your throat vanished into nothingness.
He didn’t even try to slow himself down – he just rutted into you with a hunger so complete it was clear that to him it felt like he was dying all over again for it.
“You’re so, ah, hot–hot inside, fuck, how are you so perfect? I can feel everything, baby. It’s like– like–” His hips pistoned in and out, the motion almost lifting you off of the bed every single time. Your moans were nonstop and it was only fueling his rambling.
“God, I want it– I want you, I want to feel every inch forev– ah, forever.” He groaned out. His voice cracked at the end and you realized he sounded more alive than anyone you had ever been with.
“Please, I need to– please,” you whined. You didn’t even realize you muttered out the words, barely hearing how desperate you sounded.
“I know, baby, I know, hm?” He whimpered, the sound guttural.
You locked your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper. He arched into you, the chill in his body warring with the heat that radiated from your cunt.
You clung to his back, nails raking down it, barely gripping onto anything as he slipped in and out of solid form. You could feel the shudder building inside him, his groans intensifying, each one punched out like he was giving you a little bit of his soul every time.
His control frayed, and he slammed into you so roughly you saw stars. Cold engulfed you, the feeling trapped under your skin. The feeling climbed up your spine, setting every nerve on fire, until you couldn’t tell the difference between the intense pleasure and the slight biting feeling of the freezing cold.
Your orgasm ripped through you so suddenly – violent and cold and intense and bright, and you could feel every part of yourself thawing out just to freeze back up again. The ghost's hands clamped down on you as if you would disappear and his body shuddered so hard he couldn’t help the small little whimpers that left him.
He moaned as he came down from his orgasm, the sound echoing off the asylum walls. The feeling of him spilling into you – so cold and so much – made you cum again, your body seizing up and muscles locking, your insides clenching around him so roughly he twitched.
“Don’t let go,” he gasped, his voice mangled with need and slight fear. His hips stuttered, the rhythm breaking, and then he wrapped his arms around you and went still.
You held onto him – onto what you could – just as tight, and his cold skin felt so right in the moment, like a blanket over all of your fears. But it wasn’t exactly fear you were feeling, just the ache that you had been waiting to be filled.
genre: smut!! MDNI i’m so serious
pairing: seungmin (established relationship) x fem reader x hyunjin x jeongin
cw: oral (f. receiving), praise + degradation, pet names + name calling (baby/pup/honey/dummy/my girl/muse), denied orgasm(s), handjob, spit, some mxm (kissing), protected + unprotected sex, seungmin’s a lil mean but takes care of you, hyunjin’s yummy, jeongin’s eager to learn :(
♡ note: reupload with minor line edits to the original. as usual, there’s 5 sentences max of backstory before we leap straight into it <3 5.6k words
my masterlist
Jeongin had asked Seungmin how to perform oral on a girl, never dreaming Seungmin would offer up you as a learning prop. But he did – and what kind of teacher would he be if he only showed Jeongin how one person does it? Obviously, to get the best education possible, the youngest needs to learn various methods.
Hyunjin had agreed before Seungmin even finished asking the question.
Now, the ceiling stretches above your eyes as you lay on your boyfriend’s sheets. Hyunjin’s thumb is rubbing slow strokes across the back of your hand. Jeongin sits beside Seungmin on the floor, intently watching him between your legs. Jeongin thinks your core, already soaked without even being touched, is one of the most beautiful sights he’s ever seen. Seungmin’s hands grip around your thighs, holding you open before you even attempt to hide.
Above you, Hyunjin finally snaps out of the trance he entered the second you discarded your top. “Can’t believe this is happening,” he states as a fact.
“Me neither,” Jeongin agrees. You’re not sure if he knows he even spoke.
Seungmin looks between the two for any signs of discomfort. Seeing none, he replies, “It’s happening. She’ll let us use her as long as we need, right baby?” He lightly squeezes your thigh, urging you to respond.
“Mhm,” you sigh and nod. How could you not, when all three are staring at you like you’re a masterpiece just for them?
Seungmin squeezes harder. “Use your words.” His voice has a certain authoritative tone, only found in bed like this, only used to make his girl feel as good as possible.
“Use me, please.” You’re not far off from outright begging. You’ve been here, talked about but never talked to, for too long. At this point, you don’t necessarily care who goes first, as long as someone does soon.
Seungmin’s drawing this out on purpose. “You’ll let me know if you want to stop?” His tone drops, talking only to you and not for the benefit of the others.
“I won’t want to,” you answer him as Hyunjin squeezes your hand tighter, like it’s the only thing holding him back right now.
“Dummy, that wasn’t the question.”
“I’ll let you know, promise,” your voice comes out rushed, trying to convince someone, anyone to touch you.
“Holy shit,” Jeongin mutters. Hyunjin can only nod in agreement, already nearly breathless just from seeing you hand yourself over to Seungmin so easily. He’s dreamed of you before, but this, the trust required between you and your boyfriend, is something else entirely. Something he can only keep dreaming of, and hope to God he pleases you tonight.
Seungmin’s proud smile validates your neediness. “That’s my girl,” he says, then turns his attention to Jeongin beside him.
“Now,” he begins, “lesson one. The most important thing is to watch her reactions, like this -” without any more warning, Seungmin leans in and licks a practiced stripe up your pussy, stopping to suck around your clit for a few seconds. Your gasp is met with a low groan from Hyunjin. Seungmin pulls away and looks over at Jeongin, “You’re doing a good job if she sounds like that.”
Jeongin doesn’t move, doesn’t so much as nod, but his thoughts are evident from his pupils blown wide, still staring at where Seungmin was just connected to you.
Hyunjin chuckles without much humor behind it. “You doing okay?”
Jeongin still does not tear his eyes away from you, but nods so quickly his hair moves with him. “Show me again?” he poses it like a question, but he sounds like he’ll cry if the answer is no.
Seungmin obliges, leaning in once more to repeat his motions, flicking his tongue and sucking just as he did before. His mouth is divine, and he knows exactly what will get the best reactions out of you. He stays longer this time, drawing out your sighs and moans solely for Jeongin’s benefit.
Hyunjin’s low curse is almost lost behind the sounds of you and Seungmin. He can’t keep his hands to himself any longer. As familiar heat begins to coil low in your stomach, Hyunjin leans down and lightly sucks one of your nipples into his mouth, swirling his tongue to make you arch into him.
When he’s satisfied, he leans up and gently brushes a loose strand of hair out of your face.
“Open up for me, yeah?” he whispers, only for you to hear.
He can’t believe how easily you follow his instructions. He cups your jaw and spits right on your waiting tongue, unable to contain his low moan as you swallow it without hesitation. He presses his forehead against yours and murmurs, “Fuck, you’re perfect.”
Seungmin’s still working his tongue so well. You’re already so close. Right as your pleasure almost reaches its breaking point, Seungmin pulls away. “N-no,” you falter in your protest, but he doesn’t spare you a second glance.
His eyes are locked on Hyunjin, holding your chin like you’ll shatter if he presses too hard, staring like your gleaming eyes hold the secrets of the universe.
“Your turn,” he rasps. Of course Seungmin can see that Hyunjin damn near forgot the entire reason for doing this is to teach Jeongin – who, at the moment, looks more like a statue blushing pink than a person.
Hyunjin travels down your body, taking Seungmin’s place as Seungmin stands up to position himself on his mattress next to you.
“Hi, pup,” he greets you. He smiles at your pout, still upset that he stopped earlier. He brings his hand to your cheek, taps your lower lip with his thumb, before reassuring, “It’s okay, do you want Hyunjin to take care of you?”
You begin to nod, but are cut off by Seungmin’s overdramatic disappointed expression. You know better, he shouldn’t need to remind you to use your words. “Please, yes, yes,” you beg, still holding eye contact with your boyfriend. You did well. He grins and pulls you into a kiss, lips working against yours to absorb your noises.
Seungmin shifts. The mattress slightly dips you further into him, before he grabs your hand and guides it to his bare length, warm and heavy in your palm. Immediately, instinctually, you wrap your hand around him and begin slowly sliding your hand up and down his cock. Seungmin groans and deepens the kiss.
Hyunjin is about to stop breathing. Jeongin looks on the verge himself.
Between your legs, the oldest cannot choose between watching you and Seungmin or diving into you, dripping with an obscene mixture of your arousal and your boyfriend’s spit. Jeongin places a gentle, encouraging hand on his thigh, and Hyunjin almost jumps out of his skin.
“So - uh,” Hyunjin has to force coherent words out of his mouth. “For me, I like to start by easing a girl into it. Having her talk to me. But,” Hyunjin looks up at Seungmin, still making out with you while you’re still pumping your hand, “she can’t really answer me right now.”
Seungmin hears him and pulls away. You whine at the loss of contact, but he just mocks you by pouting back at you, still inches away from your face. He looks down at Hyunjin and says, “Go on, then.”
Hyunjin reminds himself to breathe. He’s so goddamn lucky to be here. Seungmin’s even luckier he gets you every night. He could die happy between your thighs, even without tasting you yet. But then his eyes flicker to you, gorgeous and panting and so, so desperate for any kind of relief, and his focus tunnels on you once again. “Pretty, pretty muse,” he starts, tracing his fingers over your slick inner thighs, so close and yet so far where you both need him. “How well does your boyfriend eat you out?”
Seungmin’s jaw clenches. “Careful,” he warns, but it’s short lived. His eyelids flutter as your fist speeds up.
Hyunjin presses a soft kiss directly onto your clit. Your hips try to chase him as he leans back, smiling. He doesn’t care that you didn’t answer. He keeps talking, whispering almost to himself, “Because I can hear you sometimes, y’know? Have to pretend I can’t, because what kind of person spends their nights jerking off to their best friend’s girl?”
A strangled noise leaves Jeongin’s throat.
His fingers trace languid designs through your folds. “But you’re letting me, aren’t you? You’re letting me do this -” Hyunjin’s tongue is on you again, slowly flicking and sucking with the reverence of a saint. When he pulls away again, he looks like someone forced him to. “Fuck, letting me do that while he watches, shit you taste so good.”
“You said you want her to talk to you, too,” Jeongin points out.
Hyunjin looks over at him like he forgot he was there. “Right.” Then his eyes are back on you, “Let me know how good this feels, muse.”
And he indulges in you, licking a fat stripe up your pussy like he’s done it countless times before. Maybe he has, in his mind. “Hyunjin - fuck!” your gasp is a mixture of disbelief and pure pleasure racing through you.
He hums in response, the vibration hitting you in the best possible way.
Your mind goes blank, too stimulated to think about anything else but the man between your thighs, eating you out so differently than what you’re used to.
Seungmin has a point, Jeongin really can learn different ways from them. Seungmin is always controlled, taking his time to make you fall apart exactly how he wants you to. Hyunjin is romance, adjusting his pace to match the rhythm of your moans.
You’ve already been pulled right to the edge once tonight. Hyunjin’s still lapping his tongue like a man starved, letting you writhe around him. Your thighs clench as your pleasure builds up again, but Hyunjin blindly reaches for Jeongin’s hand, positioning it to hold you open for him. In one smooth motion, Hyunjin’s long fingers are inside you, curling to make you cry out.
Your hand falls from Seungmin’s cock, even though you hadn’t been able to satisfy him for the past few minutes. Seungmin takes your hand back, placing it back on him. Dimly, something in the back of your mind tells you to keep pumping your hand.
“Sorry,” you whimper when the oldest man’s tongue slows to watch the interaction.
“It’s okay, baby,” comes his response.
Everything is becoming too much. Seungmin knows. Your face is scrunched, your whines are becoming nearly indistinguishable from each other. His sweet girlfriend is about to cum for another man. Another man who would give anything to make that happen. He doesn’t mind, but he’s still hanging on to the pretense that’s not what tonight is about.
“Stop,” Seungmin orders. Hyunjin does, but incredibly reluctantly. He pulls just barely off your pussy, his chin glistening. Your hips jerk upwards to find him again. Hyunjin has to grip the blankets so hard his knuckles turn white in order not to give in to you.
Seungmin would kill him, Seungmin would kill him, Seungmin would kill him. It’s almost worth it to wipe the frown from your beautiful face.
Seungmin rubs his hands up and down your arms until you look at him. “You ready for Innie, pup?” he asks. He’ll excuse your nod this time – you look so lovely when you’re about to cry from frustration. Seungmin leans down and presses a long kiss to your forehead, murmuring, “You’re doing so, so good for us,” before he pulls away. Then, to Jeongin, “You ready?”
Hyunjin takes the cue and scoots back over beside you. Jeongin scrambles to replace him with zeal he hasn’t yet shown tonight.
“Fuck…” Jeongin breathes out. His eyes are wider than you’ve ever seen them. His throat bobs as he gulps.
You’re suddenly very aware of the fact he’s studying you like a science experiment. The room’s air conditioning is cool against your flushed skin. Instinctually, you move to close your legs and sit up. “It’s fine if you don’t want to, we don’t have to tal-”
“No,” he growls, pressing his palms against your thighs to keep you open. Seungmin bites back a smile.
But he’s still just kneeling, still just staring at your cunt. Seungmin and Hyunjin exchange an impatient look. All three of you are about to take matters into your own hands if the youngest doesn’t move soon. Hyunjin nearly moves to push him out of the way before he finally snaps back into reality.
His tongue lands on you with hasty enthusiasm. He’s wild, impatient, sending a shockwave zipping up your spine. Nothing like Seungmin and Hyunjin’s skilled patience. Your hand drops from your boyfriend’s cock once more, but this time he lets it go.
Seungmin’s still rubbing his hands on your arms, partially for comfort, partially to hold you down as the third man tonight has been the most immediately stimulating by far. He’s licking and sucking like he’s being graded on it. He is, in a way. Your moans and gasps are all the validation he needs to keep going, to keep flicking his tongue, to keep you chanting his name like it’s the only one you remember.
Jeongin’s eyes flick upwards – not to you, but to Seungmin, who just meets his gaze and gives a silent, approving nod.
Suddenly, he’s moving faster, losing himself in you. Hyunjin connects his mouth to one of your nipples again, palming your soft skin, once again finding his rhythm through your gasps. He’s warm, soft, perfect, a delicious contrast to the heat that very quickly built back up inside you for the third time tonight.
The room is loud with their noises, your moans and cries, and Jeongin whining, “Cum on my face - pleaassse - cum-”.
Seungmin’s already watching you when you open your eyes to find him. “Can I - Can I please - fuck,” your plea is interrupted by Jeongin swiping his tongue against your clit with eager ambition.
Somehow, Seungmin’s, “Of course, baby,” breaks through your trance.
Jeongin’s and Hyunjin send your orgasm crashing through you. You let go with a mixture of their names on your lips. Seungmin increases the pressure on your arms as you try to jerk away from the overstimulation of it all. Your thighs clench around Jeongin, effectively trapping him against your dripping pussy. He’s in heaven.
“Was that okay?” he asks once your thighs finally release him. You’re still catching your breath.
“You did well,” Seungmin answers for you. “But you can do better.” Jeongin’s shoulders slump a little with the critique, only to be met by Seungmin moving down your body to be beside him. “Hey, that’s why we’re here, right?”
Hyunjin lowers his eyes.
Seungmin pushes your legs further apart to make room for both of them. He settles into position, one palm pressed against your thigh, one on Jeongin’s shoulder. “First, don’t be afraid to use your hands, too. She likes that.”
Jeongin’s ears redden. He’s still breathing heavily, leaning closer to Seungmin as he keeps talking him through techniques. “It’s pretty simple. You just…” he trails off. Finally, Seungmin notices the poor boy’s body language. Seungmin’s gaze drops down to Jeongin’s lips. He never looks anywhere else.
Then he’s leaning in to Jeongin, and Jeongin is letting him. Their lips connect messily, tasting both each other and you, each man pulling the other into him. Seungmin’s nails grip into his shoulder. Jeongin’s bare skin brushes against your slick inner thighs as Jeongin gains the confidence to pull him forwards.
They’re clearly occupied, but tonight Hyunjin’s been more than willing to pay attention to you.
You prop yourself up on shaking arms, lightly batting Hyunjin’s arm to get his attention. “Jinnie?” your voice comes out soft, almost unsure of yourself.
Hyunjin’s attention shifts instantly. “Yes, muse? What’s wrong, are you okay?” His brows furrow in concern, grabbing your hand once again.
Seungmin jerks away from Jeongin. His head snaps over to check on you.
“Can you kiss me?” you ask.
Hyunjin breathes a sigh of relief, unable to stop a cheesy grin from overtaking his face. Seungmin’s head falls forward against Jeongin’s shoulder. “You scared me, pup,” sounds muffled against Jeongin’s skin.
Hyunjin finally answers your question by leaning forward and connecting your lips. He moves against you slowly, savoring everything you’re giving him. His lips are soft, perfectly in sync with your own. He moans into your mouth, breaking the kiss ever so slightly to match your shy smile.
“Uh - should I-” Jeongin begins to ask, already inching back towards your pussy.
“Yeah. Yeah, you should,” Seungmin answers, shifting his body to get out of the way.
Jeongin’s eyes travel up your body, finally connecting with yours. “Tell me you want me again.” He looks almost shy, too much so for someone who just made you cum on his tongue then kiss your boyfriend. His hair is tousled. A soft smile threatens his lips.
“Innie, please, I want you.”
Your reassurance flips a switch inside Jeongin. His demeanor changes at once, muscles tensing and flexing under the light. His long fingers grip around your waist, tugging you closer to him until his nose brushes against your clit. Your surprised yelp only spurs him on.
He buries his face in you. He’s always been a quick study. This time, he follows Seungmin’s advice, setting more of a rhythm and pushing his long fingers into you. They’re a bit clumsy but so, so perfect together. Your back arches against the mattress, hips rolling against his face, either grinding for more or trying to escape – you can’t tell anymore. “Don’t run from me,” he murmurs against your cunt.
Hyunjin has been painfully hard since the moment he got in bed with you. Unable to take it any longer, he gently swipes some leaking precum over his tip, choking on a moan just from that. The scene in front of him is invading every sense he has. You, the same girl he fantasizes about with his hand wrapped around his dick, hardly able to contain yourself on Jeongin’s tongue.
God, how could you handle a cock?
“He should - he should also learn how to fuck,” Hyunjin’s voice is wrecked. Jeongin disconnects from you, perking up at his hyung’s suggestion, ignoring your frustrated whine. His fingers keep moving inside you, curling so well it’s still difficult to keep your noises down while Hyunjin speaks. “Can I show him?” he asks. Everybody knows it’s a flimsy excuse, but that doesn’t stop you clenching around Jeongin’s fingers at the thought of Hyunjin in you.
Hyunjin’s awaiting permission from your boyfriend. Seungmin takes in your expression, heavy-lidded and blissed, and a question flashes between you, so miniscule that Hyunjin would have missed it if he wasn’t looking for a specific answer.
“Yess please Hyun- shit - Innie!,” you breathe.
Hyunjin doesn’t look at you. He can’t. His relationship with Seungmin will be ruined if he’s not okay with this too, but he won’t be able to stop himself if he sees you waiting for him while gushing around someone else’s fingers.
Seungmin, again, purposefully waits before answering, “You heard her.”
“Ohmygod,” he breathes out. His hand has stopped moving around himself now. All air seems to have left him. He’s not wasting another fucking second. “Move,” he tells Jeongin. Suddenly, you’re empty, but you hardly have time to feel the loss before Hyunjin’s beginning to line himself up.
“Condom.” Seungmin states simply as he tosses one from your bedside table at Hyunjin. He rips it open with record speed and rolls it on his length, hissing at the contact on his aching cock.
Jeongin examines his glistening fingers before tentatively sucking them. He groans at the taste.
Hyunjin has not focused on a single thing other than your dripping pussy, making a fucking mess with everyone’s spit mixing together. You’re clenching around nothing, desperately needing him to fill you up. He wants to keep a picture of it on him at all times. He wants to stay here forever. Shit, he wants to fuck you so bad.
Nothing is standing in his way now. Your moans ring out in tandem as he teases the head against your entrance. “Fuck, sorry, can’t -” he stutters out, before burying himself in you all at once. A string of curses leaves his lips. You clench around him, pulling him in so he doesn’t have a chance in hell of leaving you.
He stays buried to the hilt, both giving you time to adjust to him and giving him time to not cum immediately. It takes all of his self-restraint not to start babbling about how much he’s dreamed of this. Instead, he begins slowly thrusting in and out, hands exploring every inch of you they can reach.
Seungmin lays next to you. “God, you’re so messy, baby,” he whispers against your lips. “I love you so much.” He captures your lips on his, slow and sensual, exactly how Hyunjin is fucking you. Large hands grip around your waist to hold you in place.
Hyunjin is about to lose it, but he thinks he might die if he can’t feel you cum around his cock. Heat pools low in your tummy, building and building until the man above you lets out a strangled noise at how tight you’re squeezing him.
Seungmin is still making out with you, absorbing your whines with his mouth.
Someone begins rubbing small circles on your clit. Gasping, you look down to see Hyunjin, face flushed and sweat sticking his hair to his skin, holding Jeongin’s fingers over your pussy, guiding him through the motions. Hyunjin’s eyes squeeze shut as you tighten around him at the addition of Jeongin’s fingers. He’s desperately rutting against you now, desperately trying to hold back until you cum first.
Seungmin taps his thumb against your cheek. “Dummy. Eyes on me,” he says, cutting through your moaning. You pout at him, wordlessly begging for his permission while Hyunjin’s on the edge of falling apart above you. Seungmin just frowns back, false sympathy filling his eyes, before pulling your face back into him.
“Do you know - how fucking long - I’ve dreamed of this,” Hyunjin punctuates his words with more thrusts. Seungmin’s bedframe scrapes the wall, but both of you are too far gone to notice.
Every movement he makes presses Jeongin’s fingers further against you. The combined stimulation is maddening. Seungmin, like always, knows when you can’t take any more. He pulls away and rasps, “I want you to cum, baby.”
That’s all you need. Your back arches off the mattress as best you can, with Seungmin still kissing you and Jeongin holding your hips down. Jeongin tries to pull his hand away, but Hyunjin holds him in place, whimpering out a “keep going.” Waves of pleasure wash over you as the youngest does his best to keep a steady pace. Hyunjin stills, fingernails gripping into your skin, eyes squeezing closed so hard his nose crinkles, as he spills into the condom.
It’s too quiet. The only noises are yours and Hyunjin’s exhales as you try to regulate your breathing.
Hyunjin flops down on the other side of you. The mattress bounces, pushing you further into Seungmin. A thin layer of sweat sticks to his skin, rubbing off on you as his arm presses against yours. The mattress is hardly big enough for you, Seungmin, and Hyunjin to lay side-by-side like this. You only realize your legs are trembling when Hyunjin sits back up and rubs his hands down them, massaging your muscles as best he can.
“Can I try?” Jeongin’s voice cuts through the silence.
Seungmin looks up. Everyone knows what Jeongin means, but he asks anyway, “Try what?”
“I want to fuck her,” he admits. Your heart jumps, even though your limbs feel like dead weight. Seungmin looks back down at you, the same question flickering in his eyes. He smiles at your slight nod.
Jeongin is on you in a second. He hastily shoves his sweats down, kicking them off somewhere already forgotten before maneuvering himself above you, thighs caging you into him. His muscles have grown so much lately. You rake your eyes down him, shamelessly admiring his body, finally landing on – “What the fuck.” you utter before you have a chance to think better of it.
Seungmin doesn’t hide his laugh. Hyunjin, to his credit, does make an attempt, albeit a near useless one. Jeongin has the audacity to look embarrassed, like he doesn’t have the biggest dick you’ve ever seen.
Once the initial shock wears off, Seungmin hands Jeongin a foil packet with a reminder to “Use a condom.” Then he grumbles, “Not even my dick and I’m the only one who remembers.”
Jeongin looks down at you. He hesitates for a split second before shifting his weight, giving you room, and asking, “Can you roll over for me?” He continues, to Seungmin more than you, “Wanna see her ass.”
Hyunjin scoffs. “Don’t be greedy,” he says, eyeing him, “she’s fucking shaking, look at-”
“She’ll do it.” Seungmin cuts him off. He ignores Hyunjin’s incredulous look – Hyunjin isn’t the one who gets to speak for you, no matter how badly he seems to want to. Seungmin helps you onto your hands and knees, saying “You let me know if you want him to stop, okay baby?” a little too loudly for Hyunjin to ignore. His tone shoots straight through to your core; you love him possessive over what’s his.
“C’mere,” Jeongin murmurs. That’s all the warning you get before his hands grip around your thighs, digging into your skin, and he pulls you back into the correct position. Hyunjin’s eyes widen. Seungmin just laughs. You didn’t realize how weak they left you until you attempt to hold yourself up again, just for your arms to give out almost immediately. Your face is smushed into Seungmin’s sheets – just how Jeongin wanted.
He slowly presses into you, inch by devastating inch. Whimpers and muffled curses fall from your lips as his cock pushes in, deeper than you’re used to. “Shit - she’s squeezing so tight,” he mutters under his breath.
“Yeah, she does that.” Pride laces Seungmin’s voice.
The air itself is thick with need as Jeongin bottoms out. He draws out ever so slightly just to push back in. Your whimper is music to his ears. The pain soon gives way to pleasure, the stretch becoming delicious as he continues. Every vein drags along your walls. His breath falters more and more as he continues.
The soft sheets rub against your cheek as he rocks his hips behind you. Soon, he gets lost in it, lost in you, going harder, deeper, unable to stop himself. His head brushes against the perfect spot inside you with every thrust. His moans grow louder, coupled with his head brushing the perfect spot inside you with every thrust, you’re not going to last much longer.
Your hand flies out, searching for something, anything to grab onto while the pleasure intensifies. Hyunjin reaches out and encapsulates it with both hands with a soft. “I’ve got you, muse.”
Jeongin never misses a beat pounding into you. His moans ring through the room, in tandem with your own. Suddenly, they’re cut off, muffled midway through a particularly deep one. Hyunjin’s grip loosens in yours, like he’s distracted by something. As best you can in this position and your head continually getting pushed into the mattress, you look over your shoulder to see what’s happening.
The sight is dizzying. You never even noticed when Seungmin moved, but now he’s making out with Jeongin again. One of Jeongin’s hands leaves your ass to grip into the back of Seungmin’s hair, eliciting moans from your boyfriend. His hips stutter and jerk as you keep squeezing around him, as Seungmin keeps letting him sloppily work his tongue in his mouth.
Waves of heat surge through your body, finally snapping as your orgasm crashes over you. You cum with a crying mixture of Jeongin’s name and whimpers, mentally and physically exhausted from the stimulation. Jeongin isn’t far behind. His legs nearly give out with the force of his orgasm, his fingernails gripping into your ass to ground himself as he groans against Seungmin.
Hyunjin’s mouth is agape with astonishment, drinking in the scene before him.
Afterwards, your body weakens and you slump forward further into the mattress, still shuddering slightly from the stimulation. Jeongin releases you. Your mind is blank. Familiar arms wrap around your waist and pull you onto his lap, running a soothing hand through your hair.
Back in Seungmin’s arms, your head lolls onto his shoulder, your limbs going limp, your eyelids threatening to stay closed. His heart swells with pride. “She’s had enough,” he says gently, to not disturb you. “Everyone else out.” It doesn’t have the same authoritative cadence as before, his tone instead promising to discuss the events later. Just not right now. Right now, he has to take care of his girl.
All rational thoughts are gone, all you know is your boyfriend wants something, and he’ll reward you if you give it to him. Still half-dazed, your legs move on their own accord to begin pushing yourself up. Seungmin notices. His warm hand settles on your thigh, keeping you in place, while he laughs, “Not you, pup.”
The mattress rises and falls under your bodies as the other two hesitantly stand up. Footsteps pad the floor, then the rustle of them picking up their discarded clothes. The door creaks as they make their exits. Halfway out the door, Hyunjin turns around and locks eyes with Seungmin. Hyunjin’s gaze softens as it lands on you clinging to your boyfriend, and he leaves the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click.
It’s just you and him now, and as much as his adrenaline races showing you off, he loves having you to himself even more.
Seungmin would swear he can feel your heartbeat against his chest. Usually, he’d be more than happy to hold you as you drift off to sleep, but there’s a more pressing matter. He plays with the ends of your hair, tugging lightly to get you to lift your head. It doesn’t work. You stay pressed against him, breathing him in, letting his familiar comfort overtake you.
“Baby,” he murmurs into the quietness. “We need to shower.”
“Stay with me a little longer,” you whisper, eyes still closed. “Missed you.”
His hand drops from your hair to gently rub up and down your back. “I’ve been right here.”
“Mm, not the same,” you respond. “I never got to have you,” you reach between your bodies and lightly grasp his cock again, seeking his familiar comfort.
Even exhausted from coming for his friends, you’re still not satisfied without him. He could cry at how needy you sound for him. Of course he’ll give you what you want. He always does. Next thing you know, he’s maneuvering you off his lap and on to your back.
He keeps your bodies close as he pushes into you. There’s no resistance. His movements are slow and deep, trying to communicate how much he worships you through this moment. One arm cages you into the mattress, the other hand tilts your chin to stare into your eyes.
“Minnie?” you whisper against him.
“Yeah, pup?”
“Did I do good?”
He laughs, light and airy, but the genuineness reflected in your question pulls at his heartstrings. “You were perfect, honey.” He kisses you again as he keeps moving his hips, gentle, mindful of your sensitive state. “You’re always perfect,” he murmurs once he pulls away. “My perfect girl.”
You smile weakly at the praise. He keeps going, whispering the sweetest words as he pulls you closer to falling apart one last time. “So sweet - and you take me so well - like you’re fuckin made for me, o-only for me,” he falters as his own pleasure builds.
It doesn’t take long before your body gives in to him completely. A couple more slow thrusts, and your final release washes over you, your back arching into him, marrying your bodies together as he helps you through it. He groans out your name, and you feel the familiar warmth inside you.
He kisses you again before pulling out, taking a second to appreciate his cum leaking out of you. Only he gets to see his girl like this, only he can hold you and hear your sweet sounds as you give yourself over to him without a second thought. Only he can decide when he wants to share you, and only he gets to support you afterwards.
His fingertips are soft against your cheek. “C’mon, let me clean you up,” he whispers. You’re already drifting back off to sleep. Instead of responding, you just snuggle deeper into his covers. They smell like a mixture of his laundry detergent and him. It’s one of your favorite scents.
Seungmin slides his arms underneath your body and lifts you, keeping you cradled against him. His body heat envelopes you. He admires your sleeping face as he starts towards the direction of the bathroom, where he will run you a warm bath and just hold you against him for as long as you let him.
i’m conflicted about using my taglist for reuploads 😭 lmk if i should or not
Sorry for not updating but I’m panicking rn I am going to Paris tomorrow ALONE and am seeing stray kids on Sunday but omg I am NOT ready (physically and mentally) I still have to prepare my bag and I don’t even have a concert outfit lmaooo
Tags: mutual masturbation, porn, closet sex, rough sex, first time together, desperate thrusting, overstimulation, hand over mouth, biting, semi-public sex, stifled moans, creampie, aftershocks, dazed clinging, emotionally intense
Word count: 4.1k
Summary: you’re just his best friend; his open-minded, dangerously close, overly flirty best friend. so when hyunjin tells you he can’t watch porn unless someone else is in the room… you roll your eyes and let him do it. but you don’t expect to stay. you don’t expect to watch. and you definitely don’t expect to end up with his hand around your mouth, legs shaking, his cock deep inside you in a locked closet at a house party four days later.
This work contains mature themes, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!
••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
You and Hyunjin had always been open with each other.
It was part of the reason your friendship worked — that weird, shameless kind of bond where nothing was off-limits. He could talk to you about anything. You could say things that would’ve made other people flinch, and he’d just laugh, head tipped back, telling you that your brain was his favorite place in the world.
There were no rules. Just you, and him, and the strange little rhythm you’d fallen into over the years. Late-night hangouts, casual sleepovers, the occasional too-long hug when one of you needed something unspoken. No lines ever crossed, but plenty blurred.
So when he asked you to come over that night — casual, chill, just to hang — you didn’t think twice.
You showed up in your usual post-shower state: oversized hoodie, bare legs, the kind of soft cotton underwear that felt like home. His place was warm, clean in a way that said he’d tried to impress you without saying it out loud.
He opened the door, hair messy, smile crooked. “You’re late.”
“You’re lucky I came at all.”
He stuck his tongue out. “You always come when I ask.”
You rolled your eyes, stepping in.
Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was the quiet intimacy of the night. But somehow, two episodes into whatever trashy dating show you’d landed on, something shifted.
“Do you mind,” Hyunjin said, reaching lazily for his iPad, “if I put something else on?”
You shrugged. “Sure.”
You didn’t expect him to open his browser and pull up porn.
“Hyunjin—”
“Don’t freak out,” he said, like this was totally normal. “I’m not gonna jerk off. Just… I don’t know. I like having it on sometimes.”
You stared at him. “With me right here?”
“That’s the point.”
You blinked.
“I can’t enjoy it when I’m alone,” he said with a small shrug. “It’s not hot unless someone else is in the room. I’m not gonna do anything unless you want me to. I just… I don’t know. It feels less sad this way.”
You stared at him, mouth opening, then closing.
“Hyune,” you said slowly. “That’s not normal.”
He grinned, eyes bright with mischief. “You say that like I’m trying to be normal.”
Your instinct was to say no. To laugh it off. To tell him he was fucking insane and grab your shoes. But you didn’t.
Instead, you sighed, shaking your head, and muttered, “Fine. But you’re not allowed to make this weird.”
“I never make anything weird.”
“That’s the biggest lie you’ve ever told.”
He winked. “And yet… you’re still here.”
⸻
The video was loud. That was the first problem. The moans were high and breathy and clearly real — not the fake, over-the-top stuff that was easy to ignore.
The second problem was Hyunjin himself.
He didn’t just watch it. He felt it. Breathing in these slow, shallow hitches. Sinking back into the pillows like he was alone, even though you were right there.
You weren’t even watching the screen. You were watching him.
His mouth was slightly open. His chest rose and fell under the soft black tee he’d half-tucked into those stupid grey sweatpants — the ones you’d teased him about a thousand times for being too dangerous.
And then… he moved.
Just a shift of the hips at first. Then his hand — long fingers twitching — rested near his thigh. A rub. Absentminded at first. Then another. Slower. Firmer.
Your stomach dipped.
He groaned, soft and low. His head tilted back.
And that sound — fuck, that sound — sent a pulse straight between your legs.
You tried to ignore it. You tried so hard. But your body was already reacting before your brain could process what was happening. Your thighs pressed together. You adjusted your hoodie. You stopped breathing entirely when his eyes flicked toward you and then dropped — low, slow, hungry.
“You good?” he asked, voice hoarse.
You nodded too quickly. “Fine.”
He smiled — a little too knowingly — and exhaled. “Fuck, she sounds like you.”
You blinked. “What?”
“The girl. On the video.” His voice was dreamy, almost dazed. “She moans like you.”
You stared at him. “How would you even know that?”
He looked at you then, eyes dark and shining. “You think I’ve never heard you?”
Your skin went hot. “Hyunjin—”
“I wasn’t trying to. But you always leave your door cracked. And sometimes I’d just be passing by and then… you’d make this sound. Like you didn’t know how to stop yourself.”
You opened your mouth to say something — anything — but then he moaned again. This time because of you. He was hard now. Very visibly hard.
“God,” he whispered. “Why is this so much hotter with you here?”
You didn’t answer. Couldn’t.
Your body was buzzing. Your underwear damp. And every inch of space between you suddenly felt razor-thin, unbearable.
“Touch yourself,” he said, almost breathless.
You shook your head, barely.
He leaned in, voice low. “Please.”
You swallowed. “Why?”
“Because I need it,” he said, groaning again as he pressed into his palm. “And I don’t want to be the only one.”
His eyes flicked to your legs.
“You’re turned on.”
“I’m not—”
“You are.” His voice was firmer now. “I can see it. The way your thighs are clenched. The way you’re breathing.”
You looked away. He reached out, gently brushing your knee.
“Look at me.”
You did.
“I swear,” he said, “I’ll stop if you tell me to. But if you want this even a little… just stay.”
You exhaled. Shaky. Unsure. Wet.
And you stayed. Neither of you said anything for a long moment.
The porn still played softly in the background, but it was just noise now — the tension in the room had turned so dense it pressed in on your skin like heat, like breath.
Hyunjin dragged his bottom lip between his teeth and exhaled slowly through his nose. His hand hadn’t left his lap.
You were still watching him.
And he was watching you watching him.
“Do you want me to stop?” he asked, voice hoarse.
Your chest tightened. “No.”
That was all he needed.
He shifted closer, just barely, and let out a sound — low, needy — as he rolled his hips against his palm. The motion was subtle, but it jolted through you like lightning. He rubbed again, slow, firm, a deliberate drag of pressure down the thick line in his sweatpants.
Your thighs clenched instinctively. You were soaked. You could feel it — the press of cotton against slick skin, the fluttering ache that had been growing steadily in your core from the moment he started moaning.
He looked drunk off it. His mouth was open, panting softly. His eyes flicked over your face, down your body, then back to your eyes.
“Touch yourself,” he said again, quieter this time. “I want to see what you look like when you’re needy.”
You let out a breath that trembled.
Your hand moved before your mind could stop it — sliding under the hem of your hoodie, then beneath the waistband of your underwear. Hyunjin’s eyes followed every inch.
“Oh my god” he whispered.
Your fingers dipped into yourself. Soaked.
Your breath hitched hard.
Hyunjin groaned — loud, ragged — and dropped his head back against the headboard, his hand now gripping the full length of his cock over his sweats. The bulge was thick and heavy, straining the fabric.
You moaned — quietly, shakily — and he snapped his eyes open.
“Say something,” he begged. “Tell me what you feel like.”
“I’m wet,” you whispered, eyes closing. “I’ve never been this wet just from watching someone.”
That made him gasp.
“God—fuck—” He shoved his sweatpants down just enough to free himself, and suddenly you couldn’t look away.
He was long, flushed red at the tip, already glistening with pre-cum.
You whimpered.
His eyes fluttered shut at the sound.
“You’re fucking beautiful,” he muttered. “You know that? Just—so fucking pretty when you touch yourself like that. Show me more.”
You moved your fingers again, slow and deliberate, spreading the slickness and brushing over your clit. Your hips arched subtly into the motion, breath stuttering.
Hyunjin watched like a man starved.
“I want to taste you,” he said suddenly, voice broken. “Fuck—I want my face between your legs so bad.”
Your whole body shuddered.
He jerked himself once, twice — not fast, but hard. Focused. Like he was trying to memorize the way it felt while staring at you.
You moaned again, louder this time. Embarrassed at how fast your body was unraveling.
“I’ve thought about this before,” he confessed, still stroking. “Not like this exactly. But… you. Under me. Wet and panting. Saying my name.”
You bit your lip, fingers moving faster now. “I didn’t think we’d ever—”
“Me neither,” he whispered. “But now I don’t even want to stop.”
The air was charged, burning.
You were close. So close it was making your knees tremble.
Hyunjin leaned in again, his free hand brushing against your thigh as if asking for permission.
You didn’t stop him.
His lips were inches from your ear when he whispered, “Let me help.”
You paused. Swallowed.
He watched you — tense, hopeful, ruined — until you nodded.
And then… the shift happened.
Hyunjin slipped his hand down, fingers brushing yours under the band of your underwear. You gasped, but didn’t pull away. He cupped you gently, middle finger sliding through the mess you’d made.
“Oh my fucking god,” he whispered. “You’re soaked.”
Your head dropped against his shoulder.
“You made me like this,” you breathed.
“Yeah?” he said, voice shaking. “You like watching me stroke my cock for you?”
You whimpered again. “Yes—fuck, yes.”
He slid his finger in, slow and deep, while still stroking himself with the other hand. You cried out, biting down on your hoodie sleeve as he moved inside you, curling slightly.
“Come for me,” he said, lips against your temple. “Please. I want to see you fall apart.”
It didn’t take long.
Your body clenched tight, the pressure building sharp and sudden until it broke — heat flooding you from the inside out, your voice catching as you gasped and ground against his hand.
Hyunjin let out a desperate groan and came right after you, hot and heavy against his stomach, chest rising in ragged breaths as his hips jerked through the last few strokes.
You both collapsed sideways into the pillows, breathing hard, sweaty, trembling.
For a moment, it was quiet.
Then—
“That was…” you began, voice wrecked.
“I know.” He laughed, still panting. “I know.”
You turned your head to look at him. His hair was a mess. His lips were red. His eyes were soft now — not teasing, not smug. Just open.
“That didn’t feel casual,” you whispered.
His gaze dropped to your mouth.
“No,” he said. “It didn’t.”
You didn’t know what would come next.
⸻
The worst part wasn’t what happened between you.
It was the silence after.
The way everything between you and Hyunjin felt louder because no one was talking about it.
You’d spent the last three nights pretending that orgasm hadn’t happened. That your fingers hadn’t tangled with his. That he hadn’t whispered I want to taste you while stroking himself, eyes on your mouth.
You didn’t talk about it. You couldn’t.
But the tension between you? You may as well have been shouting.
He sat closer now. Looked longer. He didn’t tease like he used to — not playfully, not harmlessly. Now every glance had heat. Every brush of skin felt intentional.
So when Jisung shouted across the living room, “Let’s play hide and seek — losers get a punishment dare,” you already knew something was going to go wrong.
Because you and Hyunjin couldn’t be trusted anymore.
⸻
You didn’t even plan to hide in the closet.
You were laughing, breathless, the count ticking down — Ten! Nine! Eight! — and you darted around a corner in the hallway looking for literally anywhere to disappear.
The closet door was cracked open.
You pushed in and—
“Shit—!”
A hand reached out to yank you the rest of the way in.
Hyunjin.
He shoved the door closed behind you both, muffling your gasp, then exhaled hard against your ear.
You were chest to chest. Pressed flush to him. The closet was barely the size of a broom closet — coats brushing your cheeks, the smell of old cedar, the wood beneath your bare feet cool from the tile.
“Seriously?” you whispered, half-giggling. “You’re here?”
“You ran into me,” he hissed. “Be quiet—”
Footsteps passed in the hallway. The sound of someone shouting: “Not in the bathroom!”
You both stilled.
And then you started laughing.
Quiet, breathy little giggles that made your shoulders shake. His hands were on your hips now, steadying you, his face so close you could feel his mouth twitch into a smile.
“Shhh,” he whispered, amused. “You’re gonna get us caught.”
“It’s your fault,” you whispered back.
“Yeah?” His breath ghosted your cheek. “Pretty sure it’s yours.”
Your back hit the wall as you shifted to give him room. But there was no room. Nowhere to go.
His thigh brushed up between yours. Your knee bent just slightly.
And that’s when you felt it.
The slow, unmistakable press of something hard against your hip.
You froze.
Hyunjin did, too.
“Hyunjin—?” you whispered.
He didn’t answer right away. His breath had turned shallow, his forehead dropping forward slightly to rest against the wall beside your head.
“I’m sorry,” he said finally. “I can’t help it.”
His voice was low. Strained. Honest.
You swallowed.
It didn’t feel like a joke. It didn’t even feel like a dare. It just… was. Real. Present. Pressed right up against you.
The memory of that night came rushing back — the way he gasped when you moaned, the wet sound of your bodies moving in sync, the look in his eyes when he touched you like it meant something.
And now you were here.
Too close. Too warm. Your short dress had ridden up when he pulled you in, and your bare legs were brushing his sweatpants with every shaky inhale.
You should’ve moved away.
You didn’t.
Instead, you whispered, “This is dangerous.”
He nodded. Barely. “I know.”
Your hands were on his chest, fingers curled into the soft fabric of his shirt. His hands still sat heavy on your hips. Neither of you were breathing quite right.
And then—you shifted.
Just the smallest movement. An unconscious roll of your hips as you tried to balance.
And Hyunjin let out the quietest, shattered groan.
Your stomach dropped.
“Don’t do that,” he whispered.
“Do what?” But your voice was thinner now.
“That.”
You did it again. Just to be sure. The press of your core against him was slow, experimental — your thin underwear the only barrier between your body and the thick, hard line of his cock beneath his sweats.
He whined.
Low, soft, desperate.
His forehead dropped to your shoulder. You felt him tremble.
“You can’t grind on me like that,” he breathed.
“You were already hard.”
“And now you’re already wet.”
The words punched the breath out of your lungs.
You didn’t say anything — couldn’t — and instead let yourself roll against him again, slowly this time, hips rocking once more into his.
His mouth dropped open. You felt it brush your skin.
“Fuck, you’re killing me,” he groaned.
The coats swayed faintly beside you as he gently pressed you back into the wall, his hands tightening at your waist, thumbs brushing under the edge of your dress.
You gasped quietly as he rocked up into you, the friction too good, too familiar.
“I think about it every night,” he whispered, like it hurt. “The way you sound when you come. How soft you were. How hot your hand felt over mine.”
You were burning.
Your body responded before your mind did — rocking again, your arms slipping up around his neck to muffle a soft, stuttering moan into his shoulder.
He cursed under his breath.
Then he stilled. His hand cupped your jaw, tilting your face up to meet his.
“Tell me to stop,” he said.
You didn’t.
Instead, you leaned in — your lips brushing his, breath against breath, heart in your throat.
And that’s when the closet door creaked.
“Anyone in here?” someone called.
You and Hyunjin froze.
Your mouth hovered over his.
Neither of you moved. Neither of you dared.
The door didn’t open.
Footsteps passed.
And the second you were alone again, Hyunjin exhaled.
You were still catching your breath when you heard it.
The soft click of the inside lock.
Hyunjin had turned the tiny latch on the closet door — sealing you both inside.
Your eyes darted to his, wide, breathless, heart kicking.
“What are you doing—?”
But he was already shifting you, gentle but firm.
Turning you in the dark, pressing your front to the wall of the closet, your palms flat against the wood paneling, your chest rising and falling in sharp, uneven breaths.
His voice came at your ear, low and wrecked. “I can’t pretend anymore.”
His hands slid up your thighs — slow, reverent, shaking slightly — fingers brushing the hem of your dress, pushing it higher until it was bunched around your hips.
You gasped when you felt it — the warm weight of his cock, thick and flushed, freed from his sweats and nestled right in the crease of your thighs. Hot, hard skin against the damp cotton of your panties.
“Hyunjin—” You tried to say something. Anything.
But then he rocked forward.
And your mind blanked.
The first thrust wasn’t deep, wasn’t precise — just a desperate press of his cock between your thighs, dragging the thick head right along your clothed pussy.
You whimpered.
Your knees nearly buckled.
His breath left him in a shaky hiss. “Holy fuck—”
You didn’t realize you were moving until you were rocking back against him — instinctive, helpless — meeting every slow rut of his hips with the arch of your spine.
The friction was perfect.
Each thrust of his cock between your thighs rubbed right against your clit through the soaked fabric. It felt filthy. Overwhelming. Like a fever dream you didn’t dare wake up from.
And then his mouth was on your neck.
Hot, open, wet kisses down your jaw, your pulse, his tongue tasting your skin like he’d wanted to for years. His hands grabbed your hips, greedy now, pulling you tighter against him with every roll of his body.
You were panting, trembling, moaning softly into the wall with every pass of his cock between your slick thighs.
“Fucking hell,” he muttered, voice unraveling, “you feel so—shit—so soft.”
You turned your head, breath shallow, eyes finding his in the dark.
“Hyunjin,” you whispered.
His mouth crashed into yours before the word could fully leave you.
It wasn’t sweet. It wasn’t careful.
It was desperate.
Tongue and teeth, lips parted, mouths gasping against each other like this kiss had been trapped between you for years. Like he was starving for it. Like you’d never survive it.
You grabbed at his hair. He groaned into your mouth.
His hand slid up your front, fingers curling under the fabric of your dress, and suddenly he was palming your breast — rough, hungry, his thumb brushing your nipple through the lace of your bra.
You arched into his hand.
He bit your lip.
You whined, trembling, your voice cracking. “I need you.”
He froze.
Your words hung in the air — too raw, too loud, too real.
Then he growled, deep in his chest.
And his hand moved.
Down your stomach. Past the waistband of your underwear. Two fingers slid through your soaked slit and came away dripping.
He hissed, whispering something under his breath you couldn’t catch.
Then he hooked his fingers under your thong — pulled it aside.
And you felt him.
The head of his cock, hot and heavy, slipping between your folds. Your knees nearly gave out.
“Are you sure?” he breathed. “Fuck—tell me.”
You didn’t hesitate.
“Yes. Please—”
He didn’t wait another second.
He gripped your hip, braced a hand on the wall beside your head, and with a single smooth thrust, sank into you.
You gasped — loud and broken.
He groaned like it hurt.
Like he’d been dreaming of this for too fucking long.
You could barely breathe.
He filled you so completely you felt split open. Every inch of him slid deep, hot and thick, your body clenching around him like it had been aching for this—like it knew him.
Hyunjin stayed still at first.
Forehead to your shoulder, panting, hand tight on your hip like he was trying to ground himself.
“Fuck,” he whispered. “You feel like heaven.”
You whined — a low, raw sound — hips rolling back into him, your fingers scraping the wall for anything to hold on to.
That was all it took.
His restraint snapped.
His hips drew back.
And then he started fucking you.
It wasn’t slow anymore.
It wasn’t careful.
It was frantic, overwhelming, wet — the obscene slap of skin-on-skin muffled only slightly by the coats around you, your slick dripping down the inside of your thighs with each thrust.
You tried to be quiet. You really did.
But every time his cock drove into you, you couldn’t stop the moans — breathy and soft at first, then high and frantic as his pace picked up.
And when a louder gasp escaped your mouth—
His hand clamped over it.
Large, warm, shaking fingers curled across your lips, muffling the helpless sounds spilling from you as he pounded into you from behind.
You whimpered into his palm.
His voice broke right beside your ear. “I’m sorry, baby—I need you quiet—can’t let them hear—”
You nodded. Barely.
But your body was shaking. Your walls fluttering around him. And Hyunjin knew you were close.
So he got mean.
Rougher.
He slammed into you harder, his cock dragging across all the right spots, your thighs trembling from the pressure of each thrust — and the filthiest part? You were soaked. The squelch of your cunt around him was wet and loud and pornographic, and it only made him fuck you harder.
You bit down.
Hard.
Right into the base of his palm as his hand stayed tight over your mouth.
He groaned, bucking into you like it drove him insane.
“Shit—fuck, just like that—”
He lost rhythm for a second, stuttering into you, hand slipping from your mouth to your throat, thumb under your jaw to tilt your head back, mouth against your skin again.
Then he bit down.
His teeth sank into the soft curve of your shoulder as he buried himself deep, his moans muffled into your skin.
You swore you blacked out for a second.
You couldn’t tell which way was up anymore — just the overwhelming drag of his cock, the heat in your belly, the white-noise roar in your ears as your orgasm crept higher, hotter, inevitable.
“Fuck—Hyunjin—I’m gonna—”
“I know,” he groaned. “I feel you, baby—fuck, you’re squeezing me so tight—”
You came with a cry into his wrist, your whole body spasming.
Everything snapped — the pressure, the tension, the weeks of unsaid things between you, all of it boiling over in that moment as you fell apart on his cock.
He barely held it together.
You felt him twitch inside you, pace faltering, his voice falling to ragged, desperate whimpers.
“Fuckfuckfuck—oh my god, I’m gonna—can I—inside—?”
You nodded, dazed. “Yes—yes, please—”
One more thrust. Deep. Hot.
And he came with a bitten-off moan into your neck, his body jerking hard as he spilled into you — thick, hot spurts of cum painting your insides, his cock buried deep as he rode out every last pulse, twitching and trembling.
You slumped forward, boneless.
His arms caught you. Held you there.
Both of you breathing like you’d run miles. Sweaty. Shaking. Still joined, still stuffed full.
The closet spun in silence.
And when his hand finally fell from your mouth, you whispered — voice shot, lips swollen —
“…We can’t ever just be friends again, can we?”
And Hyunjin, still inside you, kissed your shoulder like it was a promise.
“No,” he said. “We’re so fucked.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Authors note: HIIIIIIIIII!!!! Breakfast is served (or lunch or dinner lol) 😂 personally i think this is the filthiest hyunjin fic i have written… right? I cant even remember lol! So i got that closet idea from this edit… saw it and my brain short-circuited 😭🫠❤️ And now we are here!
Give this a lot of love! Also update; i have officially started writing my first original novel 🥹 ahhhhh
