Big girls don't cry

'99 | unhinged multi-stan.

[twinkieminkie]

masterlist (updated)

If you want to join my taglist, comment any work or dm me.

works:

au!horror ateez: Sangue: ot8!vampire x f!human reader.

Haunted: ghost!choi jongho x f!human reader

The Black Cat Nero: sorcerer!jung wooyoung x f!reader

Christian Woman: incubus!choi san x nun!reader

Blood on The Dance Floor: werewolf!song mingi x f!human reader

Death on a queen-sized bed: boogeyman!jeong yunho x f!reader

Uroko: funayūrei!kim hongjoong x f!reader

Moonstruck: kitsune!park seonghwa x f!human reader

Love Bites: vampire!kang yeosang x f!human reader

One-shots:

thinking about… the dom!side of yeosang.

You can leave your mask on

Fics:

cherry lolly pop

Rosa:

like, comment or reblog my works if you enjoyed them. 💟

[yungistiny]

SCREAM 2

[ C. San + J. Wooyoung ]

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ꒷꒦︶🔪 are you single?

summary: san and wooyoung are ride or die. they’d kill for each other without blinking. and killing for her is the greatest euphoria they have been chasing for far too long.

warnings: killer/dom/bisexual san, killer/switch/bisexual wooyoung, sub reader, depictions of blood, gore and violence, use of drugs and alcohol + more to be added

genre: horror, dark romance, throuple, smut

pairings: ghostface san x afab reader x ghostface wooyoung

word count: 7.1k

chp 2 coming soon

SCREAM [ yungi standalone ]

masterlist

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶

Los Angeles didn’t get many summer storms, but when they came, they came hard, wild and unexpected, like the city was trying to rinse itself clean in one night. It was well after 2:00 am. The neon sign above Vega’s Dive buzzed weakly through the downpour, flickering like it too was drunk. Inside, the bar was nearly empty, just a few regulars clinging to the last minutes of whiskey soaked solitude while outside, the fighter stumbled onto the slick pavement, boots splashing through shallow puddles. Danny Ruiz, twenty eight, underground darling turned disgrace. A cocky smile tugged at the corner of his lips, even as the alcohol made his steps uneven. He still thought he’d won.

Powder in the eyes, cheap shot, sure. But the crowd roared when San went down, blinded and bleeding. Danny had walked out with the cash and the victory, and in his mind, that made it fair. The rain matted his hair to his forehead, the sharp scent of ozone and wet concrete wrapping around him as he lit a cigarette with fumbling fingers as somewhere behind him, a door creaked. He didn’t turn. Didn’t notice the shadow step out from the alleyway. Didn’t notice the other one already tailing him across the street, boots splashing in time with the thunder.

Two figures. One lean, cloaked in black with a slightly off kilter gait, like a dancer enjoying a private joke. The other, broader, quieter, precision in motion. Both masked. Both deadly.

The cigarette was gone by the time Danny reached the corner of Valentine and 6th, a grimy little intersection where even the streetlights gave up. The only illumination came from flickers of lightning cracking across the sky, brief flashes revealing graffiti covered walls and busted out windows. He muttered to himself as he stepped over a soggy pizza box and into the narrow hallway of his apartment building, a concrete coffin of a place with peeling paint and that ever present reek of mildew, sweat, and leftover Chinese takeout.

Unit 206. The lock stuck, like it always did. He jiggled the key, cursed under his breath. The moment the lock clicked, Danny shoved the door open, kicking aside a pile of junk mail and stepping into the dark. The building was quiet, too quiet. Most of the tenants worked late or didn’t come home at all. The overhead light in his unit buzzed once and died as he grumbled, tossing his keys onto the counter, peeling off his wet jacket. Outside his window, thunder rolled in the echoing silence until the sound of soft, dragging leather across tile caught his attention.

Danny turned, confused, not yet afraid. Then the door to his apartment creaked open… slowly. But no one was there. He walked toward it and stood in the threshold of his shitty little apartment, blinking into the hallway. No one. Just flickering overheads and the sound of rain dripping through the broken skylight near the stairs. Maybe the wind had pushed the door back open. Or maybe he hadn’t closed it all the way. That’s what he told himself. Still, he locked it this time. Triple bolt. Slamming it shut and turning around only to freeze.

His kitchen light was on now and it hadn’t been before. And standing directly beneath it, like a fucked up painting brought to life, was a figure in a long black robe and a gleaming Ghostface mask. The fabric clung wetly to his chest, his head tilted ever so slightly to the side. Playful and mocking as a gloved hand tapped a kitchen knife against his thigh, casual, like he was considering how to use it.

Danny stumbled back a step, heart climbing up his throat. “Who the fuck…”

“Oh, Danny boy,” the voice crooned, playful and syrup slick through the modulated distortion. “You didn’t really think that cheap trick would go unpunished, did you?” The mask tilted again, almost amused as Danny’s eyes darted to the hallway. Too far. The window? Nailed shut. The fire escape? Blocked by an old dresser he never moved. “I mean…. powder? Really? What’s next? Thumbtacks in the gloves? Banana peels in the ring?” Ghostface took a step forward, boots squelching on the wet floor. “San could’ve gone blind, you know. Which would’ve been very inconvenient for me. He’s the only one who knows how to make my coffee just right.”

Danny lunged for the drawer where he kept an old hunters knife, but Ghostface was already there, quicker, smoother, grabbing his wrist and slamming it against the counter. The distorted laugh echoed in the tiny space, and Ghostface leaned in close, mask nearly touching Danny’s face. “You don’t get to win dirty and walk away, sweetheart. Not in our city.” He brought the blade up to Danny’s throat, not slicing, not yet, just resting it there. Just enough for Danny to feel the cold edge of inevitability. “Any last words for the crowd, champ?”

Danny tried to spit in his face, but the mask tilted back just in time, unbothered. “Cute,” Ghostface said. “But not original.” Danny’s breath sawed in and out of his lungs, raw and ragged. “Y… You’re crazy,” he hissed, cradling his bruised wrist, stumbling back as the Ghostface in the kitchen stalked toward him, blade twirling with flair. “You’re fucking insane!”

“Aw, come on,” Wooyoung said behind the mask, voice light, teasing and mean. “That’s not very gratitude core of you. I did wait until you got home, didn’t I?” Danny’s spine met the edge of the counter as he backed up and kept backing, heart pounding, eyes wide, completely missing the second figure emerging from the hallway behind him. The second Ghostface was silent. Still. Watching and waiting as Danny took one more step and collided hard with something solid. He turned, gasping and the second Ghostface shoved him backward with both hands right into Wooyoung’s waiting arms.

“Gotcha,” Wooyoung purred, plunging the knife deep into Danny’s gut with an elegant little twist, like he was carving a ribbon into a present. Danny choked, a wet, guttural sound as he stumbled back, eyes wide, hands flying to the fresh wound. Blood poured out in thick, dark ropes as he staggered toward the hallway, hand leaving smeared red fingerprints on the wall as he gasped for air and ran, pure instinct, blind and stumbling toward the only thing that made sense, his bedroom. He didn’t even realize he was screaming as his legs barely carried him across the threshold, crashing into the dresser as he scrambled to shut the door behind him but it didn’t click all the way.

And it didn’t matter. Because the soft sound of boots against tile was still coming. Steady. Rhythmic and mocking as Danny collapsed to the floor, crawling now, fingers reaching for the phone on his nightstand because like an idiot he realized he left his damn cell at the bar, he knocked over a lamp, the shade crashing to the ground and just as he wrapped his trembling hand around the phone…..

The bedroom door opened. Two figures stood in the frame, Ghostface masks grinning like death itself had a sense of humor. Danny was gasping now, one hand pressed to the gaping wound in his abdomen, the other slick with blood as he tried to crawl backward, away from the figures in the doorway. His legs weren’t working right. His vision was blurring. He could barely hear over the sound of his own panicked breathing as one of them stepped forward. The broader one. Quieter.

Ghostface didn’t speak. Just crossed the room in slow, even strides and then without ceremony, dropped to a knee in front of him and Danny flinched, eyes wild as the knife in the masked figure’s hand came down, not into him, but into the floorboards. Buried there with a sudden crack, the blade quivering in place beside Danny’s shaking leg. And then, slowly, purposefully, the figure reached up and pulled the mask off.

It was San. His dark hair was soaked, sweat and rain glistening on his jaw, and his eyes, those soft, sweet eyes the crowd always underestimated, were dark and unreadable now. Calm. Cold. He didn’t speak at first. Just looked at Danny, head tilted, watching him squirm as Danny’s expression crumpled with shock, disbelief crawling over his features. “No…” he breathed, shaking his head. “No fucking way…”

San’s voice was steady. Quiet. Almost gentle. “You could’ve fought clean.”

Danny’s lip curled, rage flaring like a last ditch defense mechanism. “You serious? You’re gonna kill me over a fight?”

San’s mouth twitched just slightly as Danny barked out a bitter laugh. “What the fuck….” He nodded toward the second Ghostface still standing in the doorway, knife gleaming. “That your boyfriend under that one?”

“Why does everyone think we’re dating?” Wooyoung’s voice snapped through the modulator, dripping with exasperation and theatrical offense. He stepped into the room with a dramatic flair, unbothered by the gore or tension. “Is it the matching masks? The coordinated kills? The cohabitation? We only fucked a few times. Calm down.” He peeled his mask off as he walked, revealing a grin that didn’t reach his eyes and a smudge of blood on his cheek like war paint. He crouched beside San, elbow brushing his as he glanced down at Danny like he was barely more interesting than a popped tire.

“Anyway,” Wooyoung added, tone light, “if I was gonna date someone, it wouldn’t be a guy who wears camo to dinner.” San didn’t react. He just reached over and yanked the knife from the floor, jaw set as he wiped a thumb across his knuckles methodically, like someone tidying up after dinner. “I don’t… like dirty players,” he said, voice low and even, the kind of voice that made the room feel colder even though the apartment was still thick with humidity and the smell of hot cigarettes. He never shouted. He didn’t need to.

Wooyoung moved before Danny could draw a breath. Fast, practiced, an arm wrapping around Danny’s chest, pinning him as if the man were already a coat to be shrugged off. Danny thrashed, fist and elbow flailing, panic making him clumsy and loud as San stepped forward, the knife gleaming dull under the single buzzing bulb. He didn’t hesitate. There was no flourish, no dramatic pause, just the brutal efficiency of a man who knew exactly how to end something and had done it before.

One movement and the blade found the first eye. Danny’s scream tore out of him, a raw, animal sound that bounced off the cheap plaster and disappeared into the stairwell. He clawed at San’s hand, fingers scrabbling for purchase on wet tile. His hands left frantic streaks across the counter as he tried to push away, to shove, to move. San’s face didn’t change. He pushed the knife again, the second time more deliberate, and then the first eye stilled in Danny’s face like an impossible, awful punctuation. He blinked when there was nothing left to blink with, a wet, ragged blink that made him choke.

Wooyoung’s grip tightened and his free hand found Danny’s jaw and tilted the head up so San could reach the other side. There was a mechanical calm to the way the two of them moved together, one holding, one finishing, ritualized and cold. When the second movement came, Danny’s scream broke into a wet, keening sound. He slammed backwards, palms skidding against the floor, knees giving out. For a frantic second his hands clawed at the doorway, at the floor, at any texture that would anchor him as he stumbled to his feet with the disoriented momentum of someone trying to wake from a nightmare.

Blood and rain slicked the tiles, but everything else was a jagged, muffled world. He lurched toward the bedroom window like a man trying to find the exit in darkness, boots slipping on the plastic that had been tracked in from the hallway. He fumbled with the latch, hands trembling so badly they couldn’t form a coherent motion. San and Wooyoung followed, shadows advancing with them, Wooyoung’s laugh was soft, almost conversational, like someone commenting on weather. San kept his face angled down, his breathing measured as Danny threw the window open and there was air, wet and sharp, and instinct, and the stupid bright idea that maybe the fall would jar him back to sense.

He didn’t look down. He tried to climb, tried to pull himself up on the narrow balcony rail, but his balance was gone. The world spun. He crashed through with a flailing, desperate momentum, the lattice tearing like paper. There was a horrible, single instant of suspended weight as his body cleared the sill and then dropped, a graceless, terrible arc and hit the pavement below with a finality that sucked the sound right out of the rainy night.

On the balcony, San didn’t move for a long, steady breath. Wooyoung looked down once, face unreadable for a heartbeat, then turned back toward the doorway like they were leaving a party they hadn’t enjoyed. San slid the knife back into his boot as if it were an inconvenient utensil as Wooyoung clipped the mask back on and offered San a crooked half smile, a private thing between them, before they folded back into the hallway’s shadow and disappeared down the stairs, leaving the apartment to the buzzing light and the rain.

Down below, the street absorbed the body without ceremony. The city, which had been trying to wash itself clean, simply kept on raining.

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶

The hallway was dim, the overhead light buzzing like it needed to die already. The rain had passed, but the damp stuck to the walls and floor, soaking into everything like grief. Somewhere downstairs, a dog barked followed by someone else slamming a door. It was just another Tuesday in Los Angeles as Y/N leaned against her front door, phone clutched tight in her hand, jaw clenched. “I’m not coming home, Mom.” She wasn’t yelling. Yet. But her voice had that tone, the kind that said she was circling the drain. “I don’t care what he said. I don’t care if he showed up crying in your office or bought you flowers or swore on your favorite rosary. That doesn’t mean he changed.” She paused, teeth sinking into her bottom lip as her mother’s voice filtered through the speaker, sharp and layered in guilt. “He’s not perfect, but he loves you. People fight, Y/N. He made a mistake.”

That nearly made her laugh. “A mistake is forgetting to pick up dinner. Not breaking my fucking wrist.” Her mom huffed. “Watch your language.” Y/N blinked hard, her throat tight as the light above her flickered. “You know I didn’t leave for fun, right?” she said, quieter now. “I left because I thought if I stayed, I’d end up….”

“Stop,” her mother snapped. “You’re being dramatic. He’s trying to make things right. He’s been asking about you.”

“Great.” Y/N snapped right back. “He can ask all he wants. I’m not flying back to New York just because he’s suddenly sorry.”

“Don’t be stubborn.”

“Don’t be blind.”

“This isn’t like you,” her mother finally said, low and disappointed. “You’re not this bitter.” Y/N’s eyes fluttered shut and her grip on the phone shook. “Yeah,” she murmured. “And you’re not usually this cruel.” She hung up before she could hear the reply letting the hallway fill with silence, except for her shallow breathing and the faint hum of city noise leaking in from the cracked window at the stairwell. She leaned against the cool wood of her apartment door. She stood there for a moment, staring at the chipped floor tile like it might hold answers. Then she heard the door across the hall creak open. Apartment 3B.

She glanced up just in time to see Wooyoung step out, barefoot and blissfully unfazed, holding a carton of orange juice like it was a chalice. His platinum blonde hair was still damp from a shower, sticking to his forehead in soft messy tufts. Gray sweats slung low on his hips, a black tank top clinging to his frame, silver chain resting on his collarbones like decoration on a weapon. His smirk was subtle but there. “Hey,” he said easily. Y/N straightened up, blinking once to shake off the conversation residue. “Hey.” He leaned a shoulder against the doorframe, carton in hand. “You alright?” he asked, eyes flicking toward her phone. “You sounded kind of… murdery.” That pulled a soft snort out of her, more breath than laugh, but still something.

“Just my mom,” she said. “She wants me to go back to New York.” Wooyoung raised an eyebrow. “And let him win?” Her head snapped up, startled, but then she saw the way he was watching her. Not cruel. Not judging. Just knowing. She looked away, embarrassed. “You heard that?” He shrugged. “Old pipes. Shitty building. Not my fault the walls are emotionally codependent.” That earned him a real laugh, quiet and unguarded as she ran a hand through her hair. “We’ve been arguing on and off since I moved here.”

“I figured.” He tilted the carton toward her. “You’ve got the same don’t fuck with me face I had after my cousin’s wedding.” She narrowed her eyes. “Your cousin’s wedding?”

“Long story. Involved shrimp cocktails, a fake pregnancy announcement, and a very drunk groomsman with a nipple ring.”

Y/N blinked. “That sounds like a story I absolutely need to hear.” Wooyoung grinned, and it did something strange to the air between them, charged it a little as he pushed off the doorframe and took a step closer, not too close, just… there. “You wanna come over for a bit?” he asked, voice lighter now. “San made too much pasta and we’ve been watching The Shining like it’s a romcom.” Y/N tilted her head. “That… actually sounds perfect.” He held the door open with one hand, gesturing like a dramatic hotel concierge. “Madam.”

Y/N stepped across the threshold into their apartment, not quite sure what she expected, but surprised at how… lived in it felt. The place was cozy, if a little chaotic. Posters and old fight flyers were tacked up on the wall beside shelves crammed with blurays and video games. The living room was lit by the soft glow of a lamp with a cracked shade, and something that smelled like garlic and red pepper hung thick in the air. “Ignore the mess,” Wooyoung said, closing the door behind them. “San doesn’t know what a laundry basket is. He thinks the couch is the basket.” A voice came from deeper in the room, low and tired. “I can hear you, asshole.”

Y/N turned and looked at San. He was sprawled out on the couch in black sweatpants and a black tank top that matched Wooyoung’s, one arm draped over the back cushion, the other holding a spoonful of pasta that had long since cooled. His hair was still damp from a shower, a few strands curling over his forehead, and there was a faint bruise blooming along his jaw, old enough to not look fresh, new enough to make her stare a little too long. He looked up when she entered and didn’t look away as Y/N offered a small, polite smile. “Hey, San.” He nodded slowly, like it took effort to look casual. “Hey.” Wooyoung breezed past her, already grabbing two forks and a third bowl from the drying rack. “She’s staying for pasta and horror clichés,” he called.

Y/N moved further in, pretending she didn’t notice the way San’s eyes tracked her the entire time, like she was the only thing in the room worth paying attention to. He didn’t speak again. Didn’t need to. The silence said enough. It wasn’t awkward. It wasn’t even uncomfortable. But it was… thick. She sat down on the edge of the loveseat beside the couch and crossed her legs, trying not to notice the way his gaze lingered on the exposed stretch of skin just above her knee before flicking back up to her face. San had never really talked to her much. A few “good mornings,” a few quiet nods in the hall. He wasn’t like Wooyoung, didn’t flirt or banter or ask what she was listening to through her headphones. But now, sitting this close, the quiet buzzed between them. And he was looking at her. Not in a creepy way. But not in an innocent one, either.

The movie was playing, but nobody was really watching. Y/N sat between them now on the couch, her bowl of pasta balanced on her knees, fork twirling absently as thunder cracked from the TV. Jack Nicholson was yelling in a snowstorm, but the real storm was the glances San kept failing to hide. Wooyoung sat to her right, one leg tucked under him, his head tipped back against the cushion as he picked at his own bowl. He wasn’t subtle about watching her either, but his gaze didn’t linger. His style was quick flicks, playful jabs, heat without the ache. San, though? He was hurting. He sat on her left, elbow on the armrest, hand half covering his mouth like he thought it might disguise the fact that he hadn’t looked away from her in at least ten minutes. His pasta was untouched as he watched her lips every time she took a bite. Watched the way she tucked her hair behind her ear. Watched the stretch of her thigh where her shorts rode up when she shifted.

And of course Y/N noticed. How could she not? She didn’t say anything, just kept eating, slow, unfazed. But her body shifted ever so slightly toward him on instinct. Not away. And San, poor San, almost dropped his fork. “So,” Wooyoung said suddenly, grinning over the rim of his glass. “You ever been to an underground fight?” Y/N blinked, thrown by the change in topic. “Like… real ones?”

“Very real,” Wooyoung said, winking. “Blood, sweat, broken noses, the occasional flying tooth.”

“That sounds wildly illegal.”

“Illegal?” he gasped, mock offended. “Absolutely not. It’s a totally normal sweaty man violence club held in a condemned warehouse run by a guy named Rico who owns four snakes and a pet raccoon.”

Y/N laughed. “You’re not serious.”

Wooyoung grinned. “Come Friday night and find out.” San shifted beside her but said nothing as Y/N glanced at him. “Wait… do you fight?” He paused. The muscles in his jaw twitching as he shrugged. “Sometimes.”

“Sometimes?” Wooyoung snorted. “He’s the headliner. Crowd favorite. Once punched a guy so hard he threw up.”

San sighed. “He bit me first.”

Y/N’s eyes widened. “He bit you?”

“Yeah.” Wooyoung leaned in. “And then San broke his ribs and gave him a concussion.”

“I didn’t give him the concussion.”

“Oh, my bad.” Wooyoung took another bite. “The floor did.”

Y/N looked back at San. “So you’re, like… dangerous.” His eyes flicked to hers, dark, unreadable and something in his chest visibly tightened. “Only when I need to be.” The words hung in the air for a second too long and Wooyoung smirked into his glass as San looked away first. Y/N finished her last bite and placed the bowl on the coffee table, leaning back against the couch. Unknowingly sitting between two men who’d both killed someone less than a couple days ago. One of them trying not to explode from how good she smelled. The other trying not to say something like, Wanna wear my knife like jewelry?

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶

Wednesday smelled like burnt coffee, dry printer paper, and someone’s off brand cologne that should’ve been outlawed in 2011. The office was a colorless blur of gray cubicles and cheap carpet, the hum of fluorescent lights mixing with the distant clack of keyboards and the occasional sigh of a broken spirit as Y/N sat at her desk in the far left corner of the floor, staring blankly at the spreadsheet glowing on her monitor like it might suddenly become interesting. It never did though. Her job was, technically, client data coordination, which really meant organizing paperwork that people like Brian were supposed to help file and then somehow always forgot about until the last minute.

Speak of the devil…. “Hey, Y/N,” Brian’s voice carried from behind her partition like a nasal storm cloud. “Quick question.” She turned in her chair slowly, already bracing herself as Brian leaned one elbow on the cubicle wall, tall enough to peer over it like a nosy giraffe. His tie was crooked. His smile smug. “Any reason the ledger reports for Q2 haven’t been submitted yet?”

Y/N blinked. “What?”

He raised his eyebrows in faux innocence. “They’re due today. You were supposed to send them to Mel by noon.” She stared at him. “You were supposed to log them into the portal first. Remember? We split the task Monday.” Brian gave a slow shrug. “I don’t know, I don’t think that was me. You sure?” Y/N fought the urge to throw her stapler at his face. From the corner of her eye, she saw Mel, the department head, look up from her glass office and Brian, of course, saw it too. “I mean, if it’s your part that’s holding things up, we should probably just let Mel know so it doesn’t reflect poorly on the team.”

Y/N stood up, voice sharp but controlled. “Brian, the folder was on your desk yesterday. I emailed you a reminder. Twice.” He gave her a look that was all pity and performance. “I didn’t see any email.”

“Maybe check your inbox instead of TikTok next time.” That earned a snicker from someone a few cubicles over and Brian’s jaw clenched. “Wow. Okay. No need to be hostile.”

“Then stop lying.”

The air tensed as Mel opened her door. “Y/N, Brian,” she called, voice polite but clipped. “Can I see you both in my office?” Brian gave her a what did I do? smirk and strolled ahead like a smug golden retriever that just peed on the rug as Y/N followed, teeth gritted and palms itching.

Sometimes she wanted to stab him with her pen until the ink turned from blue to red.

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶

The pizza place smelled like melted cheese and old dreams, exactly what Y/N needed after a day spent in cubicle hell. The bell over the door jingled weakly as she stepped in, hair damp from the light drizzle outside, purse slung over one shoulder like it was carrying all her rage. She didn’t bother looking around. Just bee lined to the counter and gave the guy a flat, “Two slices of pepperoni, please,” before collapsing into the booth nearest the window. Her head thumped back against the cushion.

She hadn’t even taken a bite when someone cleared their throat gently. “You look like you fought a printer and lost.” San. Alone. Black hoodie. Soft joggers. Damp hair pushed back under a black cap. His hands in his pockets. No Wooyoung. Just him. The last person she expected to see without the chaos twin attached at the hip.

He gave her the softest smile. Like he didn’t want to intrude but couldn’t just walk past her either. “Mind if I sit?” Y/N nodded, surprised at how easy the yes came out. “Yeah. I mean… no. Sit.” He slid into the booth across from her, legs slightly spread, arms folded casually on the table. His eyes flicked to her pizza, then back up to her face. “Rough day?” She let out a snort that was barely a laugh. “You could say that.” He raised an eyebrow and she hesitated, then shook her head. “Just… work stuff. Office drama. You ever meet someone whose whole personality is blaming other people?”

San’s lips twitched. “I fight people for fun. But yeah, I’ve met that kind of guy.”

She smiled at that. “Brian,” she muttered like it was a curse. “My coworker. Lost the reports he was supposed to file, threw me under the bus, and then played victim in front of my boss.” San didn’t say anything right away. Just watched her quietly, like he was letting her talk as long as she wanted. “And then he had the nerve to act like I was emotional. Like, no, Brian. I’m just two seconds away from flipping a table and setting you on fire.”

That made him huff out a soft laugh, just a breath, but real. “Want me to hit him?” She paused, pizza halfway to her mouth, eyes flicking up. San looked completely serious. So calm it was almost dangerous. She blinked then smirked. “That an official offer?” His mouth curved. “Limited time only.” The smile that tugged at her lips stayed longer this time. “Tempting.” Their eyes met across the table. And for the first time since she moved across the hall… she realized San wasn’t just shy. He was quiet. Intentional. The kind of man who didn’t waste words, not because he had none, but because he only gave them to people he wanted to understand him. And he was looking at her like he wanted that very badly.

They ate in easy silence for a few minutes, just the occasional clink of the metal tray, the shuffle of feet behind the counter, and the hum of neon from the buzzing “OPEN” sign in the window. It wasn’t awkward, just… simple. Comfortable. Y/N finished her first slice and leaned back in the booth, watching San tear through his like a man who’d earned it in blood. Which, in hindsight, wasn’t totally out of the realm of possibility. Her eyes drifted again, just a second too long. Across his shoulders, the way his hoodie clung when he leaned forward, sleeves pushed to his elbows, exposing strong forearms and a faded bruise near his wrist.

He looked up suddenly, catching her gaze mid glance but she didn’t look away. Instead, she tilted her head a little, lips tugging upward. “Can I ask you something?” San blinked, wiping his hand on a napkin, wary but open. “Sure.” Y/N hesitated for a second, but not because she didn’t want to ask, because she didn’t know how he’d react. “Are you and Wooyoung…… together?” The words landed softly but they hit hard. San blinked. Once. Twice. Then again, like he genuinely hadn’t expected that to come out of her mouth. And then he laughed. A real, low, guttural kind of laugh that made her eyebrows raise. His head dropped back for a second, tongue pressed to the inside of his cheek before he looked back at her, grinning wide. “Why does everyone think that?”

Y/N couldn’t help but smile. “I mean… you kind of give off matching tattoo, shared Spotify playlist, codependent energy.” That made him laugh harder and he shook his head, still smiling. “No. We’re not together.”

She smirked. “Ever been?”

San opened his mouth. And then, carefully, “Once. A long time ago. Didn’t stick.” She lifted a brow. “But you still live together?”

“Yeah.” He shrugged. “We’ve known each other since we were seventeen. It’s just… easy.” She took a slow sip of her soda, watching him over the rim of her cup. “So… what you’re saying is, you’re single.” San met her eyes and for once, he didn’t look away. “Yeah,” he said, voice just a little quieter than before. “Very.” The silence that followed wasn’t awkward. It was heavy. Like something unsaid had just sat down at the table with them.

By the time they stepped out of the pizza place, the rain had returned, not heavy, but a lazy summer drizzle that made the asphalt shine and the air smell like earth and smoke. San clicked the lock on his old black pickup, the kind that rattled slightly when it idled but ran like a beast. He reached for the passenger door without thinking and opened it for her. Y/N glanced at him with a raised brow as she climbed in. “Chivalry? In this economy?” He gave her a half smile as he rounded the front. “It’s rare,” he agreed, “but not extinct.”

The drive was short, ten minutes, maybe. Mostly quiet, but not in a bad way. The kind of quiet where neither of them needed to fill the air with noise just to prove something. Still, at one red light, Y/N spoke. “You’re not as quiet as I thought.” San glanced over, smile creeping in. “You just haven’t caught me in the right mood before.” She arched a brow. “And today is the right mood?”

He didn’t answer right away. Just gave her a side glance that lingered a little too long, his voice low when it finally came. “Might be.” Y/N looked out the window, biting back a grin. When they pulled into the lot beside the apartment building, she hesitated before getting out. “Thanks for the ride,” she said as San looked at her, one hand gripping the wheel still, knuckles tight. “You wanna walk up together?” he asked. “Since we’re both headed there anyway.”

She smirked. “Trying to walk me to my door like we’re on a date?”

He smirked right back. “I’ll take the side closest to traffic. Just in case.”

They walked up the stairs slowly, lazily. Still no rush. Their steps echoing quietly in the stairwell. Y/N was close enough to brush against him once, twice, once by accident, once definitely not. Neither commented on it as they reached their hallway, the familiar soft buzz of the overhead light flickering as always And then the door to apartment 3B swung open and Wooyoung, dripping wet, fresh from the shower, stepped into the hallway in nothing but a white towel slung low on his hips, one hand scratching lazily at his chest like he didn’t even notice the world existed. His hair was slicked back, face flushed from the steam. “Oh. Thought you were Yeosang bringing me my weed.”

Y/N snorted as San sighed. Wooyoung’s eyes flicked from San to her, still walking together, still a little too close, and a devilish grin crawled across his face like he’d just found a button worth pressing. “Well hello, neighbor,” he said slowly, adjusting his towel in the least helpful way. “Didn’t know you two were out having a little date without me.” Y/N laughed because what else could you do when your hot towel clad neighbor said things like that with full eye contact?

San, on the other hand, looked like he wanted the floor to open up and eat him alive. “If you still need me to hit that coworker of yours…. Let me know.” He said only half joking before shoving a protesting Wooyoung back inside leaving Y/N to stare after them.

That offer looking more and more and inviting as each second passed.

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶

It was just past eight when Y/N stepped off the bus and started up the stairs to her building, heels echoing with each tired step. Her blouse was wrinkled, her tote bag heavier than usual, and she had that post work glaze in her eyes, the one you only get after surviving another day of Brian and two surprise meetings that should’ve been emails. She was halfway down the hallway when the door to 3B opened and San and Wooyoung stepped out, mid conversation. San wore black joggers and a fitted zip up jacket, sleeves rolled to his elbows again, hands taped already. A few fading bruises trailed his collarbone where his tank top didn’t cover. His hair was loose and a little messy, fight night mode already dialed in.

Wooyoung? Tight black jeans, leather jacket, rings on four fingers, platinum hair tousled to perfection. Danger in cologne form. They both looked up at the same time when they saw her and Wooyoung grinned first. “Look who’s home.” Y/N slowed, giving them both a once over. “Where are you guys off to looking like you’re about to commit crimes?” San’s mouth twitched like he was fighting a smirk as Wooyoung stepped forward. “Fight night,” he said, like it should’ve been obvious. “Rico’s warehouse. Underground chaos. Men bleeding for money. That kind of thing. You know.”

Y/N raised a brow. “Romantic.”

“You have no idea,” he said, then leaned just a little closer. “You should come.” San glanced at him, eyes flicking sideways fast, but he said nothing as Wooyoung kept his gaze locked on her. “Seriously. You said you’ve never been to one, right? Consider this your personal invitation. You’d love it. It’s loud. Sweaty. Unhinged.“ Y/N gave a skeptical tilt of her head. “And by love it, you mean…?”

“I mean you’ll have fun,” Wooyoung grinned. “And you’ll get to see San half naked and knock a guy out with nothing but his elbow.” San exhaled, finally speaking. “He’s exaggerating.”

Wooyoung waved it off. “Barely.”

Y/N hesitated in front of her door, key in hand. Something in her buzzed a little at the thought, warehouse lights, loud music, danger in the air… and San in the ring. “What time?”

San blinked in surprise as Wooyoung smirked wider. “We’ll text you the address. Don’t wear anything you care about.”

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶

Brian left the office an hour after most people had clocked out. Not because he was working late. But because he was dragging his feet, stalling, probably trying to find a way to frame someone else for his fuck up on tomorrow’s deadline. The building was mostly dark now, just the glow of the exit signs and one buzzing vending machine light near the elevator. He didn’t notice the black truck parked across the street earlier. Didn’t notice the two figures slipping quietly into the side stairwell before he hit the button for the garage.

His footsteps echoed too loud in the stairwell and when he hit the bottom, pushing the heavy door open to the underground parking deck, the concrete swallowed the sound. It was cold down there. Damp. Reeking faintly of oil, rubber, and mildew. Half the lights were out, and the rest flickered just enough to be annoying as Brian yawned and muttered to himself, fumbling for his keys as he crossed the lot. He was parked in the corner next to the concrete pillar and the busted security camera no one ever fixed.

He reached his car, opened the door….

He froze. There was a sound behind him. Like a boot scuffing the pavement. Slow and deliberate. He turned quickly but there was no one. Just the shadows between cars. He squinted. “Hello?” No answer came. His hand twitched toward his phone.

“If you have to ask,” a voice called from somewhere in the dark, distorted and playful, “you already know the answer.”

Brian spun around again, keys clattering to the floor as behind one of the pillars, a figure stepped out in a Ghostface suit. Long black robe dragging across the floor, head tilted like he was confused or maybe just entertained. Brian backed up fast, slamming into the door of his car. “What the fuck?”

“Brian,” the voice said, cheerfully now. “Middle manager. Team killer. Email CCer.” The ghostface took another step. The blade in his hand gleamed in the low light. “You’ve been very busy.”

Brian scrambled for his phone again. But it was already too late. Because now there was a second one. The other ghostface moved faster, cutting across the aisle between cars in a blur, boots slapping wet pavement as the blade slashed out, sparking briefly against the metal hood of the car just inches from Brian’s face and he screamed and ran. Because they always do.

Brian’s dress shoes squeaked uselessly on the slick concrete as he tore down the row of parked cars, phone in hand, thumb shaking on the screen to call 911 but it failed. “SIRI, DIALL 911!”

“I’m sorry. Can you repeat your question?”

“YOU USELESS BITCH!” Brian threw a look over his shoulder, ghostface one still followed at a walking pace, knife in hand, posture casual like this was all just a fun little cardio circuit as Brian veered around a beat up sedan, tripping over a loose parking block and slamming into the concrete wall. He gasped, turned, knife still down the row, glinting like a promise in ghostface’s hand. “Wh…. WHAT DO YOU WANT?” Brian shouted, eyes wide, spit gathering in the corners of his mouth.

The figure just stopped and tilted its head. “Want?” the voice was distorted and amused. “Oh, sweetie. You don’t get to ask questions. You filed the wrong paperwork for that.” Another voice joined in, calmer and quieter from behind. “Check your blind spot.”

Brian whipped around and ghostface two was now much closer. Too close. He screamed and scrambled to the right, slamming into a side mirror, drawing blood on his arm. “HELP! SOMEBODY HELP ME!” His voice bounced off empty walls, unanswered as ghostface one was laughing now, slow and syrupy through the voice modulator. “You know what the funny thing is?” the voice mused, circling. “You’re not even special. You’re not a killer. You’re not a genius. You’re just… annoying.”

Brian was crying now, face twisted with panic. “Please…. please I… I didn’t do anything…..”

“No,” ghostface two said, quiet and still, voice deeper under the modulation. “But you were a dick to her.”

Brian blinked. “Who?” But it was too late again. Wooyoung’s blade came first, quick, across the thigh, sharp enough to make Brian collapse screaming. Not fatal. Just enough to make it fun. He tried to crawl. Tried to pull himself under the neighboring SUV. But San grabbed his ankle hard and yanked him back so fast his forehead smacked the concrete with a wet crack. He barely had time to scream before San knelt on his back, cold blade pressing to the back of his neck as Wooyoung crouched nearby, watching with one leg lazily bouncing, mask tilted. “Say hi to HR,” he said cheerfully.

And San drove the blade in. Quick and precise. Brian’s body twitched once. Twice. Then went still. San stood slowly back up, blood dripping in steady lines from the blade in his hand as Wooyoung stepped up beside him, pulling off his mask with one hand and let out a breath like he’d just come off a treadmill. “God,” he sighed. “That guy smelled like microwave soup.”

San didn’t say anything. Just wiped his blade on Brian’s sleeve, tucked it away, and started walking. “You think she’ll come tonight?” Wooyoung asked, trailing behind him.

San didn’t look back as blood poured into a pool around Brian’s dead body. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “She’ll come.”

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶

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[twinkieminkie]

i'm literally having the worst writer's block ever.

i write a couple of lines just to delete them and slam my head somewhere AAAAAA

[mingiwonkaa]

when in rome

cw; MDNI, coworkers to lovers, praise, hotel room sex, oral, collar mentions, light choking, light hair pulling, mentions of voyeurism, praise, fluff.

word count; 1-2k

AN; was inspired after seeing Hwa's RIR look! As always none of this is real, all fiction.

--

Rome.

Another city, another performance, another night of meaningless sex. Something Seonghwa was used to now. It had become a part of his every day routine; at least for the tour that was. It was never ending, as soon as he touched down in a different city he was bombarded by men, women, anyone who wanted a taste of the rockstar life. Especially when it involved the world's hottest and most unhinged bad boy; Park Seonghwa. Adored by everyone, ego fed every single time a story was posted about him, money swamping him. It wasn't the life he was supposed to have, but it was one he for sure fucking basked in.

"Seonghwa, the winners of the competition are here."

Airy voice disrupted the thoughts that Seonghwa was lost in, drawing his attention away from his phone. Lila, his manager nodded her head towards the door, indicating that he had visitors. Locking his phone, Seonghwa stood up, smoothing his hands over his jeans as he perfected his professional demeanour. Moments later Lila guided three girls into the dressing room, all giddy and flushed. Tripping over themselves as they spoke, gushing about how amazing Seonghwa was. Once again the door creaked open and you walked in. Camera strap neatly resting on your shoulder as you clasped the heavy equipment in your hands. Not once did your expression alter as you laid eyes on Seonghwa.

"Are you girls ready for your photos?"

Tearing your eyes away from the beloved rockstar, allowing your gaze to fall upon the enthusiastic trio. Snapping away a few photos, ensuring you got the perfect snapshots for the winners, before watching them say bye to Seonghwa; giggling and running out the room as they did so. Lila left soon after, informing both of you that the show would be starting in less than an hour. Without a second glance at Seonghwa, you also chose to exit the room.

Hand splayed across the frame of the door, booted foot wedged itself against the bottom of the door. Closing your eyes, fingers grasping onto your camera with more force than necessary, feeling him fill the air around you. Taking a subtle deep breath, waiting for whatever unfunny and annoying quip that was about to leave his mouth.

"Just once you couldn't be happy to see me, princess?"

Immediately your jaw clenched at the pet name. It wasn't used as a term of endearment, it was used in a way to piss you off. Differences between yourself and Seonghwa were the size of the universe. He deemed you a princess who was straight laced and was allergic to fun. You labelled him as an unruly, wild child who never heard the word no.

"Just once couldn't you not try and annoy me?"

Chuckle resonated deep within Seonghwa's chest as he withdrew his hand from the door, but didn't remove himself from your personal space. Instead he curled his fingers around the crook of your elbow, turning you around with a swift motion. Face to face with him, your hands falling from your camera as it swayed on the strap. Seonghwa's cologne overpowered your senses for a hot minute, causing you to forget your barrage of insults you were about to throw at him.

Strands of deep purple hair fell across his eyes, corners of his lips twitching into a smirk as he continued his grasp on your elbow. Seonghwa didn't respond to your question, instead lowered his free hand, curving it around to your back, without touching you once. Precision and a steady hand had him plucking the hotel key card out of your back pocket and producing it in front of your face. Unfurling his fingers from your elbow, he finally took a step back, but the smirk remained comfortably on his lips.

"As much as Lila attempts to keep me under lock and key, gifting you my spare hotel key card is not a wise move. One, because I know how clumsy you are and you will lose it by the end of my performance. Secondly, I don't think you want to be walking in while I'm mid-"

"Do not finish that sentence."

Throwing your hand up, cutting him off from whatever he was about to say. Shaken from your minor frozen blip, you tilt your chin upwards. As much as you hated to admit it, he was right. There was no way you wanted to walk in when he was doing things that would make a whore blush. Also, you still weren't 100% sure why Lila had swiped the extra key card and asked you to keep it safe. She was his manager, not you.

"I didn't choose to be your babysitter, so by all means, keep your extra key card and hand it out to whoever wants to be your next fix."

Pinching the key card between his forefinger and thumb, he arched an eyebrow, amusement etched into his expression.

"Did you think I was going to come to Rome and just start fucking my way through the city? Wow, I am hurt, princess."

Refusing to play along with his games, you adjusted the camera around your neck and opened the door.

"Break a leg, Seonghwa. Figuratively or literally."

Soft click echoed behind you as the door closed, leaving Seonghwa alone with nothing but a smirk stretched across his lips.

--

Italian summer air breezed around you, drifting across the nape of your neck as you angled your camera upwards. Strobe lights blinked and flashed across the stage, dancing over the crowd and then cascading over Seonghwa. One hand wrapped around the microphone, the other hand pointing towards the sea of untamed masses that were hanging on his every word. Clicking away, you took photo after photo, never missing a beat. For a moment you were sucked into the idol chatter of the fans behind you.

"You wouldn't need to pay me to lick the sweat off him-"

"He is the hottest fucking man alive-"

Closing your eyes, shaking your head for a brief moment as you tore yourself back into reality, snapping photos again. The amount of things you'd heard since becoming Seonghwa's photographer was enough to make you want therapy. Lifting the camera up once more, studying all of Seonghwa's movements, ensuring that every photo was one to be proud of.

Time flew by, the encore in full swing as the fans jeered for him to stay on. Some people were pushing their way through the bodies, trying to reach the backstage area to get an even closer glimpse of him- or to try and seduce him. Sighing, you flicked the camera off and snatched a bottle of water from the stage steps and headed back towards the dressing room.

Avoiding Seonghwa after a show was always your main focus. Grabbing all of your belongings, stashing your equipment into one of the production vans and heading to your hotel without anyone realising. But this time Lila was hot on your heels and had followed you to the van.

"I don't know what the issue is with you two, but I need you to keep an eye on him."

Straight to the point, you thought as you shoved the bag into the back of the van, closing the doors as you did so.

"Lila, I am a photographer, not a grown man's babysitter."

Running a hand through your hair, you let out a breath, shrugging at her.

"I'll pay you triple what you're getting now."

Silence fell between you both, the tempting offer dangling in front of you. The extra cash would help you get where you needed to go. Clenching your jaw, taking a deep breath, you nodded. A wooden, stiff nod. Relief rolled over Lila in one wave, light in her eyes again.

"I just need him to behave the rest of the time here and until we return home."

Sure. How hard could it be to keep the unhinged rockstar on a leash.

Not hard at all, it was one of his kinks.

--

12:30AM

Alcohol had flowed freely between the dancers, the crew and Seonghwa. Filling the streets of Rome with nothing but laughter and loudness. It felt as if you were the only person who hadn't touched a drop of alcohol; you needed to keep your inhibitions focused and not lowered. Seonghwa was pleasantly surprised you'd decided to join everyone for drinks, made a few annoying jokes about it but then turned his attention to one of the dancers that had an on and off fling with.

Catching a quiet moment to yourself, perched on a stone wall, overlooking the coliseum in the distance. Glancing down, opening your instagram app and sliding your finger along the screen. Pain tightened in your chest as you saw him, your ex, living it up with his new girlfriend. Locking the phone, fighting the hot tears that were threatening to fall. Being cheated on was one thing, finding them screwing in your bed on the day you got engaged was another thing.

"Men suck."

Huffing out the words, wiping away the traitorous tears as you did so.

"Depends on the context."

Whole body jolted out of fear at the voice that murmured from behind you. Swiveling your head, eyes resting on Seonghwa who stood mere inches from you, moonlight spilling over him in a way that would have artists hyperventilating. Turning back away from him, your eyes wide with shame as you did your best to wipe away any remnants of the tears.

"Rockstars who fucked their way through a tour, theres your context."

Too much venom laced your words as you honed in on the sleeping city before you. A statement that should have hurt Seonghwa, but didn't.

"Got to relieve the stress of being the world's most attractive, sought after, talented and charming wild child."

Shooting him a look, your eyebrows arched at his ridiculous, partly true response.

"Who upset you, princess."

Not a question, a demand. One that wanted answering. Sat under the stars, vulnerability weaving in the space that was between you both, you almost told him.

"No-one. We need to go back to the hotel, I told Lila I would make sure you behaved tonight while we were out."

Not waiting for him to reply, you stood up from the wall, taking one glance back at the view you were leaving behind before heading back to the rest of the rowdy group.

--

"Goodnight Seonghwa."

Wishing him a goodnight was something you had never done. Seeing him before or after a show was incredibly rare. Mostly because you had done your best to avoid him. Saying goodnight to him wasn't going to be easy, of course it wasn't. For the second time tonight, his fingers curled around your elbow and he tugged you closer. Other hand swiped the key card, nudging the door open with his shoulder as he pulled you inside with him.

"What are you-"

"Lila said you had to ensure I was on my best behaviour while out exploring Rome, huh? She said nothing about when we were back in the hotel."

Unexpected flush bloomed across your cheeks, his fingers creeping from the crook of your elbow up to the base of your throat. Speechless. That's what you were. Unable to form a thought, let alone a sentence. Fingers skimming your collar bone before he pulled back, leaving a scorching trail across your skin.

"Tell me who upset you and I'll give you more."

"Excuse me?"

And your ability to talk again was immediately restored as soon as Seonghwa opened his mouth.

"Don't look at me with such disgust, we both know how you feel about me."

"What-"

"Don't protest, princess. I've seen the way you clench those thighs when you notice I'm wearing a collar."

White noise buzzed in your ears, your stomach fell through to your feet and the searing heat that was traveling up your body at double speed was enough to instantly tell Seonghwa he was correct. Taking an involuntary step back further into the room, your bravado fading quick.

"Was it an ex? I know you were on your phone."

Seonghwa untied the flannel that had been tied around his waist, tossing it onto the bed. Sudden bubble of anxiety started to claw up your throat. No-one knew your situation prior, not Lila, not any other employer. You had never divulged any information on your cheating fiance. Was Seonghwa really going to be the first person you tell?

"Were you too high maintenance?"

Strike of molten anger slashed through you at his accusation.

"Fuck you. You know nothing about me."

Never had you lost your cool, you temper or your head around him. Always tried to have the upper hand, but it was too much this time. Seonghwa's eyebrows raised, not in shock, no. He was impressed you'd bit back with more fire than ever before.

"It was an ex. We were engaged and he cheated. Screwed some other girl in our bed on the same day he asked me to marry him."

Word vomit. You couldn't stop. Pent up emotions flooding out of you, feelings that had never been discussed-

"Only wanted to marry me because of my family heritage, because of the money. I ended it, changed my last name and any money I had, I gave away so I could start over and- and- and find someone who loved me for me."

All the air had been sucked out of the room, replaced with a stifling silence. Horror hit you like a freight train as you realised everything that spilled out of your mouth. Feet moving as you tried to push past Seonghwa, wanting to leave, change your name again and move countries. Hand circled your wrist, stopping you dead in your tracks. Time had come to a complete stand still. Just the two of you staring at each other, Seonghwa's gaze pinned to you.

"Is that why you hate me so much? Because I fuck around? Do you think I'm like your ex?"

Something in the way he phrased it, in his tone... he sounded hurt. Eyes softening at his question, your body relaxing as you shook your head without hesitation.

"I don't hate you, Seonghwa. Not really. I envy you. I wish I could be more like you. But, I'm too hurt, too damaged now to act the way you do."

Being truthful to both him and yourself was making your heart and brain pulsate with a weird pain. Seonghwa's fingers dropped from your wrist, instead both hands now cupping your face with a touch so tender it made your heart skip multiple beats.

"Damaged is the wrong word to describe you."

Space between you both was almost squashed, Seonghwa's forehead mere inches away from yours, eyes boring into you.

"What's the right word?"

"Mine."

Lips crashed against yours, fingers circling the base of your throat, latching on, feeling your pulse point throbbing under his touch. Caught in a rush of emotions, your rational thinking catapulted into the next realm. Hands shaking with exhilaration as they found Seonghwa's chest. Tongue brushing against yours, other hand tangled in your hair, tilting your head back and allowing his lips to pepper kisses down your throat and to your collar bone.

"One word and I'll stop."

Raspy words danced across your neck, hesitation quivering from him as he waited for you to back off, to freeze up and tell him this was wrong. On the contrary, this was everything you had wanted and more. Guilt had ate you alive at the fact you wanted to be fucked by him. Jealously had coloured your emotions, watching him touch and kiss other people. All you had wanted was just a taste of him and to feed off the way he didn't care what others thought. Something you'd been searching for since your break up.

"I don't want you to stop. I want you to make me forget."

It was as if he had been waiting months for those words to come out of your mouth. Trailing his lips back up to yours, engulfing you in a kiss that was nothing but passionate and intense.

Tangle of limbs, urgent kisses and moans that entwined with each other. Seonghwa wasted no time stripping himself out of his shirt, tossing it on the floor and allowing you to smooth your hands over his chest. Pad of your thumb grazed the padlock that was attached to the collar sitting around his neck. Hooking your finger into the chain, you tugged him even closer, skimming your lips against his before pulling the collar harder. Low moan rumbled in his chest, causing you to smirk lightly.

"Doesn't surprise me you get off on that."

Resting his forehead against yours, pressure applied gently around your throat as he murmured.

"There's a whole arsenal of things that get my cock hard, but getting the chance to do them with you? That's what really gets me horny."

Escaped laugh of disbelief slipped out of you, causing Seonghwa to grin as he backed you towards the glass windows. In a swift movement you were bare chest to bare chest, skin against skin. Touch trailing down your arms, enjoying the way you trembled before Seonghwa spun your around. Tits pressed against the cool glass of the windows, eyes widening at the view that stared back at you. Rome was sleeping under the night sky, barely anyone meandering through the streets. But, if they were- if they so happened to glance up-

"Shh, princess. Get out of your head, no-one is going to look up here, and if they do? So what. I can pay people to keep quiet."

Something fluttered inside of you at the nonchalant threat Seonghwa made about keeping people hush hush. Makes sense why none of his bigger scandals ever made it out to the public eye. And yet, it was enough to soak your thighs.

Tracing your curves, mapping out all the places he wanted to delve into, nimbly hiking your jeans down, revealing just what he wanted to see.

"A few dirty words and shared kisses and you're already this drenched? Fuck, if I had of known this I'd ruined you so much more at work."

Closing your eyes at his amused demeanour, hands pressed against the glass as his lips littered kisses along your inner thighs, looping a finger into the side of your underwear and pulling them down. Beat of silence passed and then with a nudge of his hand, your legs were spread and he was devouring your wet cunt like his life depended on it.

"Hwafuck-"

String of curses immediately left your mouth, hands bunching up against the glass as his tongue caressed your sweet spots, dripping your heat for him to taste. Thumb circling your clit as he did so, adding to the pleasure that was already sky rocketing through your body. Arching your back, Seonghwa's hands clung to your thighs, tongue and fingers working together to push you to your peak. Crying out his name, losing control and soaking his mouth your arousal, catching your breath with everything you had.

WIthdrawing from you, face flushed and lips wet, he wasted no time in palming his cock, turning you back around. Didn't bother to ask what he had planned next for, instead you sank to your knees, sliding your hands up his toned thighs before batting his own hand away. Grasping his cock, pumping it with a speed that made his eyes roll back, you leaned upwards and enveloped his cock in your mouth.

"Shit- fuck, I knew that mouth was good for more than-"

Strangled moan cut him off as you worked both your tongue and hand along his twitching cock, never letting him catch his breath, returning the favour of making him feel nothing but bliss. Fluttering your eyelashes, looking up at him with an expression that did nothing but drive him wild.

Seonghwa couldn't take it any longer, yanking you up from the floor, mouth empty as his cock slid from it. Pressing you against the glass again, head resting against your warm skin as he buried his cock inside your welcoming pussy. Whimper rang out from you, both of his hands overlapping yours against the window, thrusting into you.

Neither one of you had the energy to say anything, the only noise that could be heard was the slapping of wet skin, fervent moans and strained breathing. Steamed windows and stifled air, clammy skin and ecstasy laced pleasure. Terror of someone looking up and seeing you both had evaporated from your mind, no longer caring. Let them look. Let them watch.

Hot, untamed, meaningful.

Incoherent praise was whispered into your ear, causing you to shudder against him. Both of you reaching the brink, everything starting to blur as Seonghwa's cock pounded into you deeper and deeper. Seeing stars at this point, bodies sandwiched together as Seonghwa filled you, in vice versa you soaking him with your arousal.

--

Sunrise filtered through the hotel room, hues of gold and blue glazed over the walls and floor. Blinking a few times, eyes adjusting to the almost angelic light that had seeped into the room. Wincing at the soreness that swaddled your body, exhaustion still evident in your bones. Then it all came rushing back. Windows were smeared with handprints, bottle of champagne was empty on the small table- heaviness rested on your chest, fingers flying to the weight-

Seonghwa's padlock collar was sitting pretty around your throat.

"Suits you better, princess."

Groggy mumble emerged from next to you, whipping your head to see Seonghwa laying there, one eye open, sleepy smile sprawled across his lips. Hair disheveled, body on show and marks littering his neck. Blush bloomed across your cheeks as you realised you'd left hickeys all along his throat, vibrant and extremely visible. Seonghwa's fingers tugged at your wrist, pulling you down next to him again.

"This means you're mine now, no-one has worn it before, just me."

Murmured honesty flowed from Seonghwa as he closed his eye.

"Wait Seonghwa-"

"Yes, I want you. No, I won't cheat. Now get some more rest, we have breakfast in two hours and then we are going sightseeing."

Staring at his peaceful state, unbelieving at the situation you found yourself in. And yet, relief filled your entire being as you snuggled closer to him, drifting back into a restless sleep.

[skiesofvelvet]

an underrated lyric in mamacita (and maybe all of golden hour pt5) to me is when hongjoong says "baby, it's okay if we speak in korean, right?"....... the intimacy of speaking your native language with someone who may not be fluent or even understand it during a passionate moment like that, purely following instinct and lust 😵‍💫 there's nothing like it

[twinkieminkie]

🫠 I want wooyoung to have a belly button piercing soooo bad. Him and san should get matching ones. Pls. I can’t be the only one who wants this.

DAMN YESS.

It would be so juicy-

[msg-teez]

YEOSANG

[xoxiaojun]

TOXIN ℘ atz

ᢉ𐭩 texting ateez members “he’s gone you can come over now” .

☕️ ot8 x 𝑓 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 . ̫ . smau ❤︎ ⓘ 𝖼𝗎𝗋𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 , 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗌 , 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝖾𝗆𝗉 𝗂𝗇 𝗌𝖺𝗇𝗌 𝗅𝗈𝗅 , 𝗌𝖾𝗑 𝗃𝗈𝗄𝖾𝗌 , non idol au

iza ❤︎ editing this at 2am after the busiest day in the world so don’t say i don’t love u. i’m tired asf and this is lowk bad so sorry. idk hi iza in the morning i had to edit this like three times bc i missed like 3 screenshots. idk how i did that

TAGLIST ateez/master @cosmicalily @stvrhven @fdzvie @fizzandsage13 @keysfg @honghwaluvr @siracoreee @dina-10s-blog @nikiasaurus @kookiesnkim @loverkiiller @kiss4baku @teaxtease @lyuuu88 @Hwatention @lezleeferguson-120 @berryguks @jaerisdiction @minlixyaoi @wonnzii @sternhwa @maliatate96 @msglowgrl @minkieater click here to be added/removed

[kangsyeosang]

[orangeflowcr]

cute puppy vs naughty kitty

[seolyoona-archive]

hello kitty ≽^• ˕ • ྀི≼

[echofever]

she's so lucky! ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

🎧: lucky by britney spears +pairing: fempopstar!reader x producer!hongjoong +synopsis: you're everything one would expect from a spoiled, bratty pop star. daddy's money bought your way into fame; all you had to do was show up to the right meetings and look pretty. so naturally your father got you the best producer in the industry to work on your second full length album. hongjoong has sacrificed so much to become as successful as he is, so he has no tolerance for whiny rich girls who don't want to put in the effort. +cw: mean hj, pet names, cursing, unprotected p in v, restraining, hand over mouth, air restriction, doggy, pwp there's really no story to this i'm just ovulating. +wc: 1.7k +disclaimer: this is not meant to be indicative of hongjoong's character in real life. everything portrayed in this is purely fiction and contains smut, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. +a/n: everyone say thank yoooooou @matchamatz for producer!joong and the brain worms that it gave me <3333

Your eyes are burning. Mascara melting from your lashes, falsies peeling up at the inner corners from the down pour of tears streaming from your eyes. You could barely make out the shapes of the various awards placed on the shelf across the room in Hongjoong’s studio, all of them too distorted and blurry. 

Your bratty attitude landed you in the position you were in, bent over the arm of the black leather sofa. One too many complaints about redoing the chorus of the title track to your new album and Hongjoong lost the patience that has been hanging by a thread for the last week of working with you. Nevermind your teasing touches and all of the innuendos thrown his way by you, it was your continuous lack of work ethic that made him snap and put you in your place.

A firm hand gripped the hair at the crown of your head, bunched up in a fist at the root of your hair while the other hand worked you on his cock. Slamming your hips against his pelvis, splatters of your wetness leaving droplets on the side of the sofa, coating your inner thighs and his pelvis. Hongjoong was thankful for the sound proofness of his studio, your wailing and the sound of your messy pussy would be echoing down the company hallway if not for it. 

“Such a pretty voice. If only you could sound this pretty when I asked you to, you wouldn't be wasting my time and crying on my cock.” Hongjoong pushes out through gritted teeth. The slide of him in your tight walls felt fucking magical he could nut in you then and there. But he had a lesson to teach. 

“I’m s-s-orry,” you manage to moan out. Probably the 35th time you've apologized since he pushed your face into the cold leather and split you open. He’s so thick, the way he fills you up each time he punches his hips forwards, fucking bruises into the hinge where your upper thighs meets your lower abdomen on the arm of the couch, it's overwhelming in the best way possible. 

He laughs a wicked laugh, “Spoiled brats like you are never sorry,” he spits. “You just don't want to suffer the consequences of your actions.” He curls the fist in your hair tighter, making your scalp stings. You hiss, bringing a hand up from the couch cushion to grab at his wrist and alleviate the pain. You yelp and drop your hand back down when he just tugs harder, pulling your body up to hover parallel to the ground. The hand digging into your hip moves to your mouth, palm covering your lips, the side of his thumb resting right under your nose, the other four fingers curving around the side of your face digging into your cheek. He stops his brutal thrusts, only after shoving himself so far inside that you feel like he's inside your stomach.

Leaning down and pressing his lips right against your ear, his words send a pulsing throb straight to your clit, “I don't want to hear another apology come out of your pathetic mouth. All I want to hear is the pretty pitch of these slutty moans, got it princess?” All you can do is attempt a nod, which seems good enough for him. He nips at your ear lob right before he pulls away and resuming sawing into you. Thank god it's easy for the moans to spill free through his palm, at this angle all words seem to disappear from your brain anyways. 

He's deceptively strong, being able to hold your body up just by the hold he has on your hair and the press of his hand around your mouth. The tips of your fingers barely graze the arm of the couch as he rolls his hips into you. Your scalp stings, you already know you won't be able to wear extensions for awhile. You’ll have to come up with

an excuse for your stylist, definitely can't let them know you were fucking the producer your father hired. 

He switches up the angle of his thrusts, making you jerk and clench around his cock particularly harder than you been, “Oh fuck. There we go, baby. Keep clenching around this dick like that. I’ll be filling this pussy up in no time.” The moan you let out sounds like it's not being muffled by his hand at all. The tightness in your tummy increased, that familiar feeling of an orgasm approaching at a dire speed. So fast you panic, wiggling to get away because it felt so intense, bordering on painful. 

“Joong! Joong!” You completely forget his order to stay quiet. He freezes and you could die right then and there. 

He tuts, “Dumb, dumb baby.” Your heart slams in your chest, anxiety spiking at an all time high. What was he going to do? Not let you cum? Drag it out? Make you beg? All of it sounds like torture in this moment, you were so fucking close you wanted to do Hongjoong the honors and just slap yourself for being such an idiot.

He guides you back over the arm of the chair and removes the grip on your hair, but keeps his hand pressed tight against your mouth. “You’re such a shit listener. I can't really blame you fully though, that's just how you were raised, huh? Getting everything you want, not having to really work for it.” He runs a finger down the length of your spine to the dip in your lower back, dragging in to the side and around your waist to your front where he pinches your clit suddenly. You squeal and kick out your legs as much as you could with how close he was pressed against you. Unsurprisingly it doesn't deter him in the slightest, he keeps his thumb and the knuckle of his index finger in a tight squeeze around the nub. 

The breathing through your nose gets quicker and quicker, try to take in as much oxygen as you can to calm yourself down. Hongjoong sighs, “The only way to learn is to show you that if you don't do what you’re asked, you lose something in return.” 

Before you can even ponder what he means, your ability to breathe through your nose vanishes. The pressure around your nostrils is what alerts your sex dumb brain that his thumb from the hand still wrapped around your mouth has come up to pinch your nose shut with the edge of his index finger. Instincts kick in and you're shaking your head, trying to rip away the pressure against your face. But he just follows the jerks of your hand, eventually yanking you back by the face until your body is pressed long against him. Hooking his elbow around your shoulder and holding your back tight against his chest.

“You breathe when I cum,” He states with his lips pushed up against the side of your hair. The pressure of your face increases, wanting so badly to sob but your chest just jerks in small pulses. He keeps his angle, spearing directly into the spot that would make you scream if you could. You squeeze your thighs together tight, lungs burning, not knowing how much longer you have before you lose consciousness. 

As for Hongjoong, he was seconds away from cumming before he even took your, literal, breath away. He may use extreme methods to whip a brat like you in shape, but he's not cruel. 

The tightness of your thighs squeezing together, the pulsing of your slick walls around him, bends over with a deep groan, tapering off into a moan, “That's right, make me cum. Listen for once in your life, c’mon princess. This one time, do as you’re told.” He orders you as he rolls your clit lightly between his knuckles. Your eyes slip shut, pushing tears over your water line and down your cheeks. Your chest swells with pleasure and the pressure of losing oxygen. Fuzzy black and gray dots appear behind your eye lids, time starts feeling like it's moving slower. 

All it takes is a singular clench around his cock and it's over for him. He’s cumming deep inside you with a deep moan, and winded sounding “Fuuuuuck,”. He switches to pressing the pads of his index and middle finger to your clit, rubbing quick swipes along the bundle of nerves as he drops his hand from your mouth to resting lightly on your throat.

Oxygen rushes through your airway, the relief feels almost euphoric as the fluttering in your cunt from the way Hongjoong is playing with you so deliciously.

“Please,” Your hoarse voice begs. You know he has no reason to let you cum, but you hope that maybe he'll get caught up in the moment and let you anyway.

“Have you learned your lesson?” He asks through his heavy breathing, biting through the over stimulation to feed you small thrusts. 

“Yes, Joong! I promise, I’m sorry I swear! I’ll listen!” You sob, nodding your head as fast as you could. Fuck you’re too cute. He wasn’t going to deny you an orgasm, it was never part of the plan, but your begging is so sweet. You sound genuinely concerned about what he's going to do. 

“Cum then, prove it. Prove that you're a good girl and not the spoiled brat that walked into my studio last week.” The pressure on your clit increases a fraction and the bubble in your tummy pops, warm tingles spreading through your veins. The sound that comes out of you is broken and embarrassing but you don't care. How could you when you feel like you've been revived from the brink of death? By a sexy, broody, music producer no less? 

 The pattern of your breathing syncs up with his, grateful for the hold he has on you so your knees didn't have to kiss the floor. 

Eventually he speaks, “You gonna keep your word?” 

You scoff and let out a clipped laugh, “I dunno, I might need a reminder of why I should. Your methods are weak.” 

He snatches your jaw and turns your head to face him, eyes narrowed and hard. Clicking his tongue against his teeth, he taps your cheek. “Put your skirt back on. I want three more takes of the last two lines of the bridge. Make sure you elongate the last word of each line more, or we do it another three times.” He raises an eyebrow before adding, “And if I have to re-teach this lesson there's not a chance in hell I’m letting you cum.”

[twinkieminkie]

I started writing a rockstars!ateez fic long ago and now I see them at rock in Roma like that 💀

[minkisdoll]

from the back mingi drabble

warnings: nsfw 18+, bf!mingi, f!reader, pwnp, backshots, dirty talk, nicknames (baby) size kink, tummy bulge, kinda mean dom!mg, filming, fingering, just dirty overall. wc. 1k an. this is just me being thirsty as fuck over this mingi video tbh.. hope you enjoy <3 not proofread! taglist: @yslj1n @joongnoodle @matznana @kisssan @fixonjade

something about having you like this was mingis favourite thing in the world.

your back facing him, knees and arms pressed deep into the mattress. his other heavy hand rested on the dip of your spine, bending your body to bend even more forward as his eyes tightened.

his other hand was dragging down the back of his neck, mouth slightly cracked as he watched your pussy twitch under his gaze. some of your juices were dripping down to the bed, the skin slick to the touch as his body inched closer.

his cock was tight in his grip now, leaning forward to trail down your slit, messing up his precum with yours, his lip now tightly between his pearly teeth.

”you need me don’t you? desperate girl”

his other palm made contact with your cheeks, slightly tearing them more open to get a better visual of your pussy sucking him in. he couldn’t get enough of it.

that slight stretch as he pushed in, the sound it made, the amount of liquids running down your thighs as his cockhead pushes its way inside properly.

mingi leaned forward a bit, trying to catch the best view of the situation. his gold chain swung on his neck as he pushed forward, making you squeal into the pillows.

he knew he was big, big enough to make you writhe yet beg for more. and he made sure you felt every inch, every vein, everything as he moved into you in a slow rhythm.

”you feel that? feel me tearing this pussy open, yeah? just the way you like it”

all you could do is mumble, the sensation overtaking you as mingis pelvis met your ass. he knew if he turned you around, he could see himself bulging out of your lower stomach, and it only made him more hungry.

snapping his hips back, the first thrust was enough to knock the bedframe harshly against the wall. he couldn’t hold back anymore, hands tight on your hips as he started to pick up his pace, making you an absolute mess.

his sounds were rough, sharp. groans and moan tore out his throat, his tongue hanging out his mouth as he watched the opening of your pussy taking him in just right.

your thighs were shaking as your hips made contact, your mouth spread wide open but unable to respond as you felt yourself drawing awfully close so quickly.

mingi knew he wouldn’t last long like this either, but he didn’t care. he would love this view even if it’s for two minutes, or two hours. still, worth every second.

some spit trickled down from his tongue to your ass, running down your inner thighs. the sensation made your pussy clench tight around his cock, making his breath hitch in his throat. his fingers digging into your flesh, he basically hissed:

”do that again.”

and so you did, clamping down against him as his tight and precise thrusts continued, and you knew it would end very soon. mingis entire body twitched, one slightly higher moan leaving his throat as he leaned forward towards you.

”min-” you tried to speak, your voice a faint whisper. his hand tucked around your chest, pulling you up to meet his thrusts, his face near yours now.

”yeah? what is it baby?” his voice was out of breath, yet still seeping that same need. you gulped between moans, trying again.

”d-don’t stop-please” your voice was tiny, barely leaving your mouth. mingis fingers tightened around your torso as his pace picked up again, his other hand trailing down to your pussy.

”oh trust me, i won’t.”

you were so out of it by now, maybe almost as much as mingi. his body was like moving on its own, his thrusts sloppy but rough, tongue running up the side of your neck, other hand twisting and turning around on your clit.

”wish you could see this, too fucking good. have to film you next time, let you see, fuck”

your nails dig into his arm around you, body shaking back and forth as he fucked you full. his fingers on his other hand were spinning consistent circles on your bud, making sparks run all over as you gripped him tighter.

”wanna cum on your ass, please baby” mingi growled into your ear, kissing into after like a soothing sensation. you nodded swiftly, feeling your body dropping back to the bed.

his hips thrusted forward a few more times before pulling back, and then you felt it. thick hot ropes of cum splashed onto the skin of your asscheeks, marking you like mingi intended. he was so loud, mouth hung wide open as he jerked himself through his orgasm, his tip occassionally touching your pussy as he leaned forward.

”shitttt baby.. you’re unbelievable.” his voice spoke breathless, his chest heaving as you looked back. you saw him lean over to his pants on the floor, digging for his camera.

”min- what-”

”told you i’ll show you, now, stay there just like that” he adviced you, and so you did. back arched, ass up in the air for him to capture onto his film camera.

the flash light shone over your body, and then you finally slumped down properly. you were worn out. mingi threw his camera back onto the floor before rolling next to you, pulling you up to meet his gaze. he had that special grin on his face, leaving a sloppy kiss on your cheek before pulling you back up to him.

”got more energy?” he asked simply, his hand snaking back down to your leaking pussy. you nodded, albeit not as energetic as you wanted to. he nodded, biting onto his plump lip.

”mhm, then let me clean up after myself, yeah?”

his fingers curled up into your pussy, making you shriek into his shoulder, only causing him to chuckle.

”relax baby, just cleaning you up, everywhere.”

his fingers fucked into your pussy, meeting that spongy spot inside you deep inside. you gripped tight into his bicep, holding on as you felt yourself falling apart so soon.

”there you go baby, let me have it, take it all out of you” his mouth eager against your neck, you let yourself fall apart on his lengthy, thick fingers.

you gushed everywhere, the squirt drenching both you and mingi, as well as the bedsheets, making him smirk agaisnt your skin.

”don’t worry, i’ll clean that too.”

[wooyos]

made 4 each other ♡

[twinkieminkie]

the head spin, i'm weak

[twinkieminkie]

After MONTHS I'm finally ending my old horror scenarios. I'll probably post them before than any other fic, so I can finally focus more on the chapters.

BUT, Rosa 's second chapter will be out soon hehe

[minkisdoll]

Heatwave Mingi x f!reader

synopsis: mingi looks too fucking good, and not even the heatwave can stop you from getting a taste. warnings. nsfw 18+, pwnp, plot what plot, dom!mg, sub!reader, some humiliation, dryhumping, coming in your clothes, slight somno bc mingi is kinda asleep at a point?, dirty talk, nicknames (angel, baby, good girl etc.) daddy kink wc. 1.5k an. i am BACK and as horny as ever. heres smth based on a post by @809gf , tysm for the seedling. also thank you guys for being patient and waiting for me, it has paid off! enjoy :) not proofread! taglist: @yslj1n @joongnoodle @matznana @kisssan

It started innocently enough. sitting on the lounge chair of the hotel room balcony, feeling the heat trickle against your skin. the weight of your sunglasses pushed on your nose as sweat dripped down onto the pages of your book.

the midsummer heatwave was knocking the energy out of everyone, including your, typically energetic, boyfriend, mingi. fresh out the shower, his short black hair was messy, spiked over his head as he opened the balcony door. he had slipped on his matching set of a striped shirt and shorts, the buttons hanging dangerously open.

your eyes were begging to tear away from the words on the pages, catching glimpses of mingi sitting in the comfort of a plush chair opposite from you. you hadn't spoken a word, something unsaid lingered in the air.

as beads of sweat started to run down the side of your neck, you couldn't help but use your book as a makeshift fan. the view before you surely wasn't helping. mingis eyes had shifted closed, hands resting on his lap as his head was leaned back into the chair cushions.

maybe it was the heat, maybe it was the need.

but something in you snapped. nothing crazy, yet, just a floodgate of something seeping out of you. so, you pressed your book shut, and got on your feet.

mingis eyes didn't open just yet, he was basking in the sun, it hugging his features so beautifully in this warm morning. as you stood before him, you let your other hand grip the metal railing next to mingis chair, the other holding onto his shoulder blade. his lips twitched at the sudden touch, but melting into it as your familiar warmth neared him. speaking in a mumbled tone, he muttered:

"isn't it a bit too hot to cuddle hm?" you chuckled lightly, your hips now laid on top of his, chest pressed up on his.

to admit, it was definitely not making the heat go away, more so making it worse. but you couldn't possibly tear yourself off your delicious boyfriend now, his tan toned arm now tight around your waist. you just craved being close, just being here together like this.

the trip so far had been mostly you inside, alone, reading books, since mingi was on a business trip. having these little moments together was certainly more and more rare, so you had to take what there is to take.

"but it's so comfortable like this isn't it?" you asked, tracing shapes into the exposed skin of mingis collarbones. his low laugh rumbled in his chest as he nodded, eyes still hung close.

"mhm, you could say that"

you weren't sure how long you sat there, unmoved, before something started to change. maybe it was the subtle changes in your seating position, or the way your eyes were wandering, but you couldn't help but feel a new type of heat rise in your body.

your both hands laid against mingis sweat sticky chest, your thighs spread around to straddle his. looking up to see his eyes still closed, light breaths passing his lips, you let yourself experiment a bit.

your hand slid down his torso, hanging onto the buttons that remained closed a little longer then supposed, accidentally popping one open. the newly exposed skin glistened in the sunlight, making your cheeks burn red like you've never seen him like this before.

you could feel his breath catching a little, making you pause for a moment before resuming. your other hand traced down to meet the other, slowly opening the last two remaining buttons. with slow but sure movements, you moved aside the light fabric, flashing his toned chest to your vision.

you couldn’t help but feel your mouth salivating at the sight of his exposed chest, the ridges of his muscles, the light hairs below his bellybutton, all the way to to his perked brown nipples. it was all too much.

you didn’t even notice your hips moving at first, your body taking over into an animalistic state. the fabric of mingis shorts was riding up dangerously high, the skin of his toned thick thighs meeting yours as you humped down on him like a dog in heat.

you felt a grin tug on mingis plump lips, his lengthy tongue slipping past to wet the surface before he spoke in a low voice:

" tsk, now now, that's not cuddling now is it angel?"

your breath hitched, but you couldn't bring yourself to stop moving against him, hands now eagerly tugging on the remains of his shirt that hung on his chest. mingis grip on your waist adjusted a bit, both his large palms now resting against your hipbones, guiding your movements.

"couldn't help it" you mumbled, face merely inches away from his. a smirky grin appears on his lips, before he bites down into them, pulling you closer on his lap. you fall forward slightly, your hands now laid above his chest, fingers directly on his perky nipples.

"don't you dare stop now then, even if you're caught, you dirty girl"

even if you wanted to, you couldn't. the feeling of the heat radiating from mingis body, his scent, his presence. the way his eyes were slightly opened now, that dark gaze burning into your skull as you worked your hips against him. you felt your brain melt away as you eased more into it, upping the pressure as mingis hands guided you back and forth.

as you moved, you could feel tension rise below you, the hardness of mingis cock firm against your clothed pussy as you grinded with need. a twitch rippled through mingis body as your hips met up with the sensitive spot of his tip through his flimsy shorts, his fingers digging into your flesh.

“thats it baby, faster f’me, go on”

his hands are eager to pull and push you faster, the slickness of your pussy seeping through your clothes, leaving a wet patch on his shorts. moans tear past your lips as you lean forward to lay youe forehead on his shoulder, fingers digging into his chest muscles.

“min- so good.. fuck..”

raking your hands down his torso, your nails leaving behind a red trail as your chest heaves. you’re burning up, the heat of the summer air and the burning sensation of your body against mingis driving you near passing out, but it felt so worth it.

“yeah? gonna cum untouched like a fucking virgin are you baby?”

mingis words twist your gut, his pitying tone making a new wave of arousal slick down your thighs. he just smirks knowingly, beginning to thrust up into your grinds.

you shriek, digging your nails into his stomach as the new sensation takes over. you may as well be naked from how much you can feel the imprint of mingis cock in his pants. you can feel the thick shape of it, every ridge, every vein running down its sides. and its making you lose it faster then you want to.

“p..please.. d- da.. mghm min..” your words stutter as you hold onto him, teeth grazing his exposed shoulder blade.

“mmm what was that, say that again” his words sharp as his hips slow down a bit, waiting your answer.

your cheeks flare, gulping, you try again:

“please.. please daddy more!” you muster the courage, shaking as mingi chuckles against you, picking back up his page.

“that’s a good girl, always so obedient for me”

you feel the tightness in your abdomen come scarily close at his words, your body tingling with every grind, every thrust. raising your head from his shoulder, youre met with his gaze again, eyes clouded, lips parted in a smirk while low groans tear out repeatedly.

his palm smacks your right cheek before pulling on it again, spreading you open while grinding up into you, and you feel yourself lose it.

“need to.. need to cum now daddy mgmh! m coming”

mingis face dives forward, closing you into a kiss thats almost all tongue and teeth, sucking your sounds into his mouth. you pant, repeating his name like a mantra as his cockhead grinds against your clit with ease.

“thats it, cum on daddy just like this, attagirll baby” his voice mumbles against your lips, you feel him smile into it with that devious grin.

and it completely undoes you. you feel the band inside you snap, the overwhelming heat of your body peaking as you hold onto mingi for some stability, his hands on your hips grounding you.

the wet patch is even more imminent now on mingis shorts as you lean forward to his shoulder again, hanging on like a ragdoll. his hand caresses your back, soothing the burning skin as you come down from your high.

after a minute or two, you leaned up again, meeting his attentive gaze, and that never ending smirk. you raise a brow.

“now, why are you still grinning now, what’s so funny?” mingi chuckles, running his hand down your side, the other below your chin.

“oh nothing, just imagining how you’re gonna walk once we’re done on this balcony” you smack his shoulder, pretending to be hurt.

“oh? don’t think i’m not going to have you holding onto that bar for dear life while i stuff your pussy full, you know i’ll do it.”

and with that, you knew your knees would remain wobbly, and your body heated for the rest of this damned heatwave.