Lαɳα

Horny!hongjoong who couldn’t resist teasing you when you were trying to post an outfit of the day.

Horny!hongjoong who comes home from work, stressed as ever so he had to use his favorite stress toy.

Horny!hongjoong who got jealous over another man flirting with you at the bar, so as soon as you got home. He needed to remind you who you belonged to.

Horny!hongjoong who is mainly a rough man, but sometimes he just wants to be gentle and show you that he’s a mommy’s boy.

Horny!hongjoong who likes to fuck you in Seonghwa’s bed whenever the dorm is completely empty.

Horny!hongjoong who gets so pent up that he’ll start fucking you with the pure need to breed you.

Horny!hongjoong who loves whenever you get needy in public.

Horny!hongjoong who loves whenever you wake him up with morning sex, it’s not often you take what you want from him. But when you do, he always cums quickly.

Tonight had worn you out. The gala’s glitz and glamour left you feeling bitter, and the small talk was as empty as the champagne flutes you kept refilling. You leaned back in the leather seat, watching city lights blur past the tinted windows as the car hummed along.

Every day, you wondered if keeping the family business going was worth it. Your father’s legacy and the board’s expectations pressed on you like a migraine you could never shake. Guilt gnawed at your insides, knowing that money and power were the only things that brought you even a shallow sense of pleasure in your hollow existence.

As you sat in the backseat, you sighed, looking down and grabbing your phone that was in your lap. You didn't even enjoy scrolling through social media anymore. It was just the same thing over and over again. You decided to scroll through your music library instead, searching for something to dull the edge of your irritation. Your thumb hovered over the play button.

"How was the Gala, ma'am?" your bodyguard, San, asked from the driver's seat, his eyes never leaving the road. His voice was a gentle rumble in the quiet car, a stark contrast to the chaos of the night you'd just left behind.

You grumble and set your phone face down. "Wouldn't you like to know? Same as always. Surrounded by people I couldn't give a damn about."

San chuckled softly. "You never did enjoy those sorts of events."

"Thanks for pointing out the obvious." You couldn't help the sarcasm that laced your words.

San glanced at you through the rearview mirror, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "You're more than welcome to vent. I've got a pretty thick skin, you know."

"Are you a therapist?" You snapped back, your eyes narrowed at the reflection in the mirror. "Great to know I have one."

San's smile never wavered. "No, ma'am, just a concerned bodyguard."

Your eyes rolled so hard you felt them threaten to get stuck in the back of your head. "Well, don't bother. I can handle my own shit."

San remained unfazed. "I'm sure you can, ma'am, but sometimes it helps to have someone listen."

"Yeah, well," There was a long pause, your eyes staring out the window. "I'd rather not burden you with it." You didn't need his pity, and you certainly didn't need his advice.

San only smiles softly. "Was Mr. L/N with you? Did he come in another car?"

"I don't want to talk about that fucking loser of a husband. Just drive," you bark at San, your voice a mix of anger and exhaustion. San's eyes remained on the road ahead, his knuckles tightening slightly around the steering wheel.

"As you wish, ma'am," he responds calmly, not bothering to hide the concern in his voice.

"He was probably in that hotel room fucking that whore of a woman." You spat out, your voice laced with anger. You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks, the humiliation of knowing that everyone at the gala had probably seen the tabloids about your husband's latest affair.

"Fucking that— that dog. That stripper— how could I have not known he was fucking a prostitute of all people?!" Your voice echoed in the confined space of the car, your nails digging into the leather armrest as you let out a furious growl. The car remained silent except for the steady rhythm of the engine, and you could feel San's gaze on you, his eyes filled with a blend of pity and concern.

"Ma'am," he began cautiously, "you know I'm here to protect and support you, no matter what. You can talk to me if you need to."

"I'm fine, okay?!" you yell, the sound of your voice bouncing off the leather interior of the car. San's eyes flit to the rearview mirror, meeting yours for a brief moment before returning to the road. You can see the question in his gaze, the silent inquiry that asks if you're really okay, if you're not just hiding your pain behind a mask of anger.

"Ma'am, I just-" San starts to say, his voice tentative.

"There's nothing to even fucking talk about! H-He fucked some other woman!" You shout, your voice cracking with anger and a hint of hurt. San remained silent, his eyes focused on the road ahead as he drove through the quiet streets. You felt a pang of regret for taking your frustration out on him, but the rage was still burning within you.

"Then had the audacity to lie to me about it," you go quiet for a moment. "Didn't even bother to speak to his daughter. He had to tell me through a text message that he's leaving us," you spit out, feeling the bitterness of the words on your tongue.

"H-He had the audacity to lie to those goddamn reporters and say those nasty things about me! About my body! As if I don't work hard enough to keep this company afloat!" You rant, the anger in your voice growing with each word. The pressure in your chest builds, your breath coming out in harsh pants.

San's eyes remained on the road, his jaw tightening at the mention of the tabloids. He knew better than to argue with you when you were like this. But his silence didn't stop you. "And then he says I'm cold! That I don't know how to love! What the fuck does he know about love?!" You shout, slamming your hand on the armrest.

You rest your elbow on the armrest and cover your face with your hand, trying to hold yourself together but failing miserably. You don't know why you're telling San all this, but it feels good to let it out, even if it's just to the bodyguard you've had for the past five years. San's eyes never left the road, his knuckles still white on the steering wheel.

You sniffle and cover your mouth, breathing shakily. "Pull over."

San's eyes widen slightly before he nods, turning the car into the first empty alleyway he sees. He puts the car in park and turns to face you, his expression one of genuine concern.

"Ma'am, are you okay?" San's voice was softer now, a hint of worry seeping through the professionalism he usually maintained.

"I said I was fine." You don't know why you're pushing him away, but you do it anyway.

"…Get in the back seat." You order, your voice still thick with anger. San nods and opens the driver’s side door, his movements careful and precise. He rounds the car and opens the door opposite you, sliding in gracefully. He's so close now that you can feel the warmth of his body, and his cologne fills the small space between you. It's a comforting scent, something you've grown accustomed to over the years, but tonight it only serves to irritate you further.

"San, am I…" you begin, wiping your tears away with the back of your hand, trying to regain your composure. "…Am I beautiful?"

San's eyes widen at the question, taken aback by the sudden vulnerability in your voice. "Ma'am, of course, you are," he says gently, his voice sincere. "You're one of the most beautiful people I've ever seen, inside and out."

You glance at him and don't respond, the question hanging in the air. San's heart thuds in his chest, his mind racing as he tries to navigate the sudden shift in your demeanor. He's seen you upset before, but never quite like this. Normally, you're the one in control, the one calling the shots, but tonight you seem…broken. And it's tearing him apart to see you this way.

"Why would he… cheat on me?" You whisper, your voice barely above a whisper. San's heart aches as he watches the strong, independent woman he's sworn to protect crumble before his eyes.

"Ma'am, I can't say why he did it, but I know that you're worth more than his lies," San replies, his voice soft and soothing. He reaches for your hand but stops just short, unsure if the gesture would be welcome.

"I had his child." You spoke through gritted teeth, looking down at your hands. "And he throws it all away for some cheap slut."

San's gaze remained on you, his heart breaking with each word you spoke. He knew the kind of man your husband was, knew the kind of pain you must be feeling. But he also knew that you didn't mean the harsh things you were saying to him. You were just hurt and lashing out.

"You're not cold, ma'am," San said firmly, his voice a gentle counterpoint to your anger. "You're just tired of him."

You stare at him for a little while, wiping any more tears that fell down your cheeks before gulping. "San,"

"Yes, ma'am?" San's voice was a gentle rumble in the quiet car, his eyes never leaving yours as he waited for you to continue.

You scoff, the sound a harsh, bitter echo in the small space. "Why are you always so nice to me? I treat you like absolute shit and you still… You’re still nice to me." You spit out the words, your anger now directed at him. It wasn't fair that you had to deal with all this shit while he just sat there, looking perfect, smelling like heaven, and acting like nothing was wrong.

San's eyes never leave yours, his expression calm and composed, even as he's on the receiving end of your wrath. "It's my job, ma'am," he says, his voice steady. "But it's also because I care about you."

You scoff and look out of the window for a moment. "Do you know what it feels like to know that the person who promised to love you forever doesn't want you anymore?"

San remains silent for a beat before responding, "I can't say that I do, ma'am, but I can imagine it's incredibly painful."

You look back at him. "San," you shake your head and sigh. "I want to feel wanted again."

San's heart skips a beat at the raw need in your voice. He's heard the pain, the anger, and the frustration, but this…this was something new, something raw. And as much as he wants to tell you that you don't have to look outside yourself for validation, for want, he knows that's not what you need to hear right now. So instead, he remains silent, giving you the space to continue.

"Don't stare at me like a fucking dumbass like you don't know what I'm talking about." You barked, the words leaving a bitter taste in your mouth. San's expression remained unchanged, his eyes still filled with that damn concern that made you want to scream.

"Ma'am, I assure you, I'm not judging," he says, his tone calm and even. "I'm just trying to understand how I can help."

"…" you go silent for a moment. "Sex. I want you to— to fuck me."

San's eyes widened slightly, but his expression remained neutral. He'd been your bodyguard for years, and he'd seen you at your best and worst, but he'd never seen you so…desperate. He knew that you were hurt and looking for something to fill the void that your husband had left behind. But this was crossing a line that could never be uncrossed.

"Ma'am," he began carefully, his voice steady. "I'm your bodyguard. That— this isn't appropriate."

But you're beyond caring about propriety. You've had enough of being told what's appropriate and what's not. “Exactly. You’re a bodyguard,” You lean over, pulling your faux fur wrap off your shoulders and discarding it in the seats behind yours. "You’re supposed to do as I say," you hiss.

"And I've seen the way you look at me. Even when I was still married. Before my husband even thought of cheating on me." You accuse, your voice cold. San's expression remained unreadable, his eyes never leaving yours. "Don't tell me you haven't thought about it," you whispered, your voice now filled with challenge.

San took a deep breath, trying to keep his cool. He knew that you were hurt, that you were looking for something, anything to make you feel better, but this wasn't the answer. "Ma'am, I understand that you're upset, but-"

You cut him off. "Don't 'ma'am' me," you growl. "I don't want your understanding, I want you to do as I say."

San's eyes searched yours, looking for any sign that you weren't serious. But the fire in them told him you were dead set on this course of action. He swallowed hard, knowing that this was a line he could never come back from, but also knowing that he couldn't leave you in this state of pain.

"If that's truly what you want, ma'am," he said, his voice tight with tension, "I'll do what I can to help you feel better."

"Thank you." The words leave your mouth, sounding more like a demand than a genuine expression of gratitude. You can feel San's tension as he nods, his eyes still on yours. You know he's just trying to do his job, to protect you, but right now all you want is to feel something other than anger and betrayal.

"…Eat me out."

San's eyes widened, but he remained silent, his hand frozen in mid-air. You grab and push his hand down, guiding it to the apex of your thighs, where the heat of your anger meets the ache of your desire. San swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry as he felt the softness of your skin beneath his fingertips.

"Don't pretend like you haven't thought about it," you sneered, your eyes never leaving his. San knew that you weren't being fair, that you were just looking for someone to blame, someone to take out your anger on. But he also knew that he couldn't deny his attraction to you. So, instead of arguing, he gently began to massage your thigh, his touch feather-light as he tried to gauge your reaction.

You jerked slightly at the contact, but you didn't push him away. Instead, you spread your legs wider, giving him better access. San took a deep breath, his heart racing as he slid his hand higher, his fingers grazing the soft fabric of your underwear. You bit your lip, trying not to let the anticipation show on your face.

You tried to avoid eye contact, biting your finger gently and repositioning yourself so your back was against the door. Thank goodness your car's backseat was huge. "Get to it."

San's eyes searched yours, looking for any sign that you weren't serious, but the fiery determination in your gaze made it clear that you were. He sighed internally, knowing that this wasn't the time to argue. Instead, he leaned in, his breath hot against your skin as he peeled your dress up and over your hips. You watched him through narrowed eyes, daring him to back out now. But San was nothing if not professional, even in this unprofessional situation.

He kissed the inside of your thigh gently, his hands steady as he pulled aside your underwear. His eyes met, and you could see the conflict within them. He wanted to make you feel better, but he also knew that this wasn't the way to do it. Yet, he didn't pull away. He knew that pushing you away now would only make things worse, so he continued, his tongue tracing a line from your knee to the sensitive folds of your sex.

You hiss as his warm breath teases against your skin, his movements methodical and precise as he positions himself between your legs. He's so close now that you can feel his breath against your core, and the anticipation is almost unbearable. San takes a moment to appreciate the sight before him, the way your body tenses with every touch. He leans in, sliding your lace panties down your legs and throwing them to the floor. He lifts your legs as his tongue tentatively brushes against your clit, and you can't help the gasp that escapes your lips.

His hands are steady as they grip your thighs, holding you in place as he starts to explore you with gentle strokes and soft kisses. You try to keep your face neutral, to hide the pleasure that's already building inside of you, but it's no use. The feeling of his mouth on you is too much, too intense, and before you know it, you're squirming in your seat, desperately trying to hold back the moans that threaten to spill out.

"Shit," you grab onto his hair with both hands, your knuckles turning white as you try to hold back the moan that's fighting its way up your throat.

San's eyes meet yours, and the sight of you, so powerful and in control, losing yourself to pleasure, sends a jolt of heat through him. He leans in closer, his tongue delving deeper into your folds as he tastes you completely for the first time.

You try to keep your breathing even, but the feeling of his tongue on your clit is making it difficult. You can feel your body start to shake as the tension builds with each stroke. San's eyes are locked on yours, watching the way your pupils dilate and the way your mouth falls open slightly as you struggle to keep quiet.

"I-It's n-not-" you start to protest, but the words die on your lips as San's mouth finds your center. You grip the leather seat, trying to hold on to some semblance of control as his tongue works its magic. His movements are deliberate and skilled, a stark contrast to the unpracticed fumbling you're used to from your husband.

San adjusts his position, getting more comfortable as he settles in, his strong hands gripping your thighs firmly. He's taking his time with you, savoring every moment as if it's the first time he's ever tasted something so sweet. You try to keep your breathing steady, to remain stoic, but the pleasure is too intense. You're not used to being the one to lose control. You're the CEO, the one who's always in charge, but here, in the backseat of the car with your bodyguard, you're nothing but a woman on the brink of ecstasy.

His tongue swirls around your clit, and you bite your lip hard to keep from crying out. Your nails dig into the leather upholstery as he starts to suck, the pressure building with each pulse. You can feel yourself getting wetter, your body betraying you as it responds to his touch. You're not just letting him do this; you're craving it. Your hips start to rock against his face, and he groans in response, the vibration sending a new wave of pleasure through your core.

"S-San, oh my god," you whimper, your eyes squeezed shut as you feel his tongue swirl around your clit with expert precision. His hands grip your thighs, keeping you in place as he works his magic, his movements slow and deliberate, savoring every inch of you. The sound of his mouth on your skin fills the car, mingling with the faint sounds of the city outside.

He pushes your legs further back, your knees almost connecting with your shoulders as he settles into his task. San's eyes never leave yours, watching as the pleasure slowly starts to take over your features. You bite your bottom lip, trying to keep the moans at bay, but it's a futile effort. The way his tongue flicks against your clit, the gentle suction, and the occasional nip with his teeth, it's all too much for you to handle.

Your breaths become shorter, panting as you try to keep yourself from screaming out his name. San's hands are firm on your thighs, keeping you open for him as he explores you with a hunger you didn't know he had. His tongue delves deeper, finding that perfect spot that makes your toes curl, and your eyes roll back in your head. You're lost in the feeling, your mind a haze of sensation as you give in to the pleasure he's giving you.

"Fuck, don't stop, oh my god," you whisper, your voice strained as you feel your orgasm building. San's eyes never leave yours, his focus solely on the task at hand. He can feel the heat radiating from your body, and he knows that you're close. He doubles his efforts, his tongue moving faster, his teeth grazing your clit gently as you start to shake.

Your moans become more frequent, and you can't help but rock your hips against his face. The leather seat is cold against your back as you arch off of it, the tension in your body tightening with each stroke of his tongue. You're so close, so fucking close, and you never knew it could feel like this. You've never been with anyone who's made you feel this way before. San's hands grip your hips, holding you in place as you start to thrash against the seat.

"San-" you throw your head against the window, finally giving up on holding your moans in. You feel your body tighten, your toes curling in your expensive heels. The pleasure is so intense it's almost painful. San's tongue is relentless, flicking and swirling, driving you closer and closer to the edge. You can't believe this is happening, that you're letting your bodyguard of all people make you feel like this. But you don't care anymore. You just want to feel something other than anger and pain.

San's eyes never leave your face, watching as your control slips away. He can see the tension in your jaw, the way your chest is heaving with each ragged breath. His own body responds to the sight of you, his cock straining against his pants, but he pushes the thought aside. Right now, this is about you. He slides two fingers into your wetness, curling them up to hit that spot that makes you see stars.

"Fuck-!" you cry out, uncontrollably grinding your hips up and down against San's face. His fingers delve deeper, hitting that spot that makes your eyes roll back. He's relentless, his tongue never leaving your clit as he works you closer to the edge. You're a mess of emotions, your anger momentarily forgotten as pleasure takes over.

"San!" and with one final cry of his name, the dam breaks and you come apart, your body shaking with the intensity of your orgasm. San doesn't stop, his tongue lapping up your pleasure as your thighs clench around his head. You're a mess of moans and gasps, your hands still gripping his hair tightly as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you.

He pulls away slowly, giving your sensitive clit a final, gentle kiss before sitting back up, his eyes searching yours for any signs of regret. But all he sees is a look of pure, unadulterated satisfaction. You take a deep, shaky breath, your chest heaving as you try to compose yourself. Your cheeks are flushed, your eyes glazed over with lust.

"That was…" you start, but you can't find the words to finish your sentence. San nods, a hint of a smile playing on his lips as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He can feel his own arousal, his heart thundering in his chest, but he knows this isn't about him. This was about you, about giving you what you needed in this moment.

You stare at the very obvious bulge in his pants, the fabric straining against his hard length. It's both embarrassing and strangely satisfying to see him like this, to know that you're the one causing his painful need. But you don't comment on it. Instead, you lie back against the cool leather, closing your eyes as he continues to kiss and lick your thighs.

"San, um," you gulp. "I need… I want you to, um, be inside of me." You stutter out, your cheeks reddening with embarrassment. But the need is too intense to ignore.

San's eyes widen in surprise, but he quickly regains his composure, moving to remove his tie and unbuttoning his shirt. "Ma'am, are you sure?"

"If I wasn't sure, why would I ask you?" you retort, your voice still shaky from the intense orgasm. San nods, his eyes never leaving yours as he shifts his body, moving to get into a more comfortable position between your legs. He takes off his jacket, revealing the holster that holds his gun and the tight black shirt that clings to his muscular chest.

God, he was so handsome. San's dark hair fell into his eyes as he hovered over you, his chest heaving slightly with each breath he took. You could feel his hardness pressing against your inner thigh, and despite the situation, a thrill of excitement shot through you. You'd never seen him like this before, never knew that he was capable of making you feel like this.

"Listen to me, San," you say, your voice firm despite the tremble in your body. "You're going to do as I say, and you're going to do it right now. Do you understand?"

San nods, his eyes never leaving yours as he moves to the backseat with you. He takes a deep breath, his mind racing with the implications of what's about to happen. But he's seen the pain in your eyes, and he can't stand the thought of you hurting anymore. He'll do whatever it takes to help you find some semblance of peace, even if it means crossing a line that can never be uncrossed.

"Push your pants down and fuck me. Can you do that or are you too dumb to understand? Because you're staring as if you don't get it." You snarled, the words leaving your mouth before you could even think twice about it. San's eyes darkened at your tone, but he didn't argue. He knew you needed this release, and as much as he wished he could take away the pain you felt, he knew that wasn't possible.

San's hands trembled slightly as he unbuckled his belt and pulled down his pants, his cock springing free. It was thick and hard, and you couldn't help but stare for a moment, the sight of it making your stomach flip. You've seen your husband naked countless times, but somehow, San's body was different. It was like a work of art, sculpted and perfect in every way. He was your bodyguard, but in this moment, he was also your salvation.

He settled between your legs, his eyes on yours as he positioned himself. You could see the want in them, the need that mirrored your own, and it made your heart race even faster. He pressed his tip against you, and you couldn't help but gasp as you felt the heat of him. San pushed into you with a slow, deliberate stroke, filling you completely. You bite down hard on your lip to keep from crying out, your eyes never leaving his as he starts to move.

The first thrust stole the breath from your lungs. His size in comparison to your husband's was laughable. Where your ex had been soft and underwhelming, San was relentless. Every inch of him carved space inside you like he was mapping uncharted territory. Your fingers scrabbled against the leather seat, nails digging in as he set a slow, torturous rhythm. "Faster," you demanded, voice ragged.

He looks at you with something between amusement and concern, like he knows exactly how much you're unraveling, but obeys without hesitation. The next thrust punches a gasp from your throat, your back arching off the seat as he drives deeper. San's hands grip your hips hard enough to bruise, holding you steady while his pace turns punishing. The wet slap of skin fills the car, mingling with your ragged breaths.

He places a hand on the door's armrest, the other holding your hips down. His thrusts grow deeper, harder, each one a perfect counterpoint to the ache in your chest. The leather creaks beneath you, the scent of sweat and expensive cologne thick in the air. You hadn't expected this, hadn't expected him, to feel so devastatingly right.

"F-Fuck, wait... slow down," you gasp, but San doesn't comply. His grip tightens as he drives into you with deliberate precision, the muscles in his forearms flexing with each thrust. You can see the conflict in his darkened eyes. Professional restraint warring with raw need, but his body moves with single-minded purpose. The car rocks slightly with the force of his movements, the windows fogging from your mingled breaths.

"You told me to go faster, right, ma'am?" San's voice was a low growl, rough with exertion and something darker. Something possessive. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of your hips as he pulled you harder onto his cock, each snap of his hips making the car's suspension groan.

Your legs wrapped around his waist, stilettos scraping the back of his clothed back. Your husband was never able to make you feel this good with only penetration, but San’s cock had you seeing stars with every thrust. Tears pricked at your eyes, all coalescing into something raw and overwhelming. You dug your fingers into his shoulders, feeling the way his muscles flexed beneath your grip.

"S-San," you whimper, the syllables fracturing in your throat as he angles his hips just so... a merciless twist that sends lightning up your spine. His breath is hot against your ear when he leans down, lips brushing the shell as he murmurs,

"You're taking me so well, ma'am." The honorific shouldn't make your stomach clench, but it does, the paradox of reverence and violation unraveling you further. You shudder from his voice alone, the way it scrapes against your nerves like velvet-coated steel. San's teeth graze your earlobe as he pistons into you, the wet heat between your thighs obscene in the best way. The car's suspension groans with each punishing thrust, his cock hitting that spot inside you that makes your vision blur.

"I always hoped to have you like this," He breathed against your skin, the words slipping out before he could stop them. His thrusts stuttered for just a second, an uncharacteristic loss of control before regaining their brutal rhythm. You barely registered the confession through the haze of pleasure, your nails raking down his back as he drove into you with single-minded intensity. "I couldn't help myself. When you gave me this opportunity,"

Your fingers tangled in San's hair as his hips snapped forward again, the brutal pace leaving you breathless. The confession hung between you, but neither of you acknowledged it. Not when his cock was buried to the hilt inside you, not when your thighs trembled around his waist.

"If only you weren't married," He sounded desperate as he whispered against your neck, biting down hard enough to bruise. The pain blended with pleasure, making your toes curl inside your heels. His hands moved from your hips to your ass, lifting you slightly to change the angle. Just enough to make you see stars. "But now..." His thrusts became erratic, his control slipping as he chased his own release. "I have you."

"J-Just fuck me," you gasped, your voice breaking as San's thrusts grew impossibly deeper. His fingers dug into the flesh of your thighs, leaving marks you knew would linger. Your stilettos slipped against the car door, one heel hanging precariously as your legs trembled around him.

"You sound so pretty," San murmured against your neck, his breath hot and ragged as his hips pistoned into you with relentless precision. "You're doing so good for me."

San's voice cracked on the last word, the strain in his tone betraying how close he was. He lifted you a little, now placing your legs on his shoulders and sitting up, basically pulling you onto his cock. The new angle forced a choked cry from your throat suddenly, he was everywhere, pressing deeper than you'd thought possible. The leather seat groaned beneath you as San's thrusts turned frantic, his control fraying at the edges.

"San! Mmh!" Your cry dissolved into a strangled moan as his cock hit a spot so deep your vision whited out. Your dress was bunched around your waist as San fucked you with single-minded intensity. His fingers dug into the backs of your thighs where your legs draped over his shoulders, the bite of pain only amplifying the pleasure coiling tighter in your gut.

Your eyes shut tight as San's thrusts turned erratic. Short, desperate jerks of his hips chasing something neither of you could articulate. The wet slap of skin was deafening in the confined space, mingling with your ragged breaths. One of his hands slid up to tangle in your hair, tilting your head back.

"Uh uh, eyes open." San's command was rough, his fingers tightening in your hair as he forced your gaze to meet his. The intensity in his darkened eyes pinned you in place more effectively than the bruising grip on your thighs. You whimpered, unable to look away as he drove into you with relentless precision, each thrust pushing the air from your lungs. The car's windows were completely fogged now, sealing you both in this humid, desperate space where nothing existed but the slide of his cock and the way your body clenched around him.

"S-San, I'm close," you gasped, fingers scrabbling against the car's door as his thrusts turned punishing. The angle was too much, his cock hitting places inside you that shouldn't exist, your body stretched obscenely around him. San's breath hitched when your walls fluttered around him, his grip on your thighs tightening as he growled,

"Come for me."

You gasp, immediately gripping his arm tightly as the orgasm crashes over you with terrifying force. Your whole body locks up, thighs quivering violently against his shoulders while his name spills from your lips in a broken sob. San doesn't stop, driving through your convulsions with deep, measured thrusts that prolong the pleasure until it borders on unbearable. Tears leak from your eyes. You're not crying, you're just unraveling.

"Breathe," San murmured against your temple, his voice rough with restraint even as his hips kept moving, slower now, dragging out the aftershocks until you whimpered. His fingers traced idle patterns on your inner thighs where your skin still trembled. "Good. Just like that. Let it last."

You tried to blink away the haze, but his voice. His goddamn voice. Low and textured like whiskey-aged sin wrapped around you tighter than his arms ever could. "Breathe," San murmured, lips grazing the shell of your ear as your body seized around him. His fingers traced the frantic pulse at your throat while his hips rolled in slow, deliberate strokes, drawing out every aftershock until you whimpered.

"T-t-too much," you choked out, nails scoring down his coat. San's chuckle vibrated through you, dark and pleased.

"No such thing," he murmured, catching your earlobe between his teeth just as his thumb found your clit. "You'll take it. You're too greedy not to." The words shouldn't have sent another bolt of heat through your belly, but they did. Especially paired with the way his cock twitched inside you, like he was savoring the way your walls fluttered around him.

"Will you let me come inside of you, ma'am?" San's voice was a rough whisper against your ear, his fingers tightening against your trembling thighs. You could only nod, your body still shuddering with aftershocks as he pressed deeper, his cock twitching inside you.

"Words," he demanded, kissing your jaw.

"Yes— yes, god—" you gasped, your hips jerking helplessly against his as San's thumb circled your oversensitive clit. His thrusts had slowed to a torturous grind, every inch of him dragging against walls still fluttering from your last climax. The wet sound of your bodies meeting filled the car, mingling with the ragged hitch of your breath when he angled his hips just right.

"Tell me," San's voice scraped against your ear, each syllable vibrating through your oversensitive nerves. His hips rolled in a slow, deliberate circle that made your thighs jerk involuntarily. "Tell me how it feels."

"So good," you slurred, the words thick in your mouth as San's cock dragged against that spot again, the one that made your vision pulse white at the edges. His chuckle was dark, his breath hot against your temple.

"I'm so close, baby." The nickname slips from San's lips without permission, his voice ragged as he rolls his hips in slow, devastating circles. His fingers dig into your trembling thighs, holding you open while his cock drags against every sensitive ridge inside you. "Feel how deep I am? How full you are?"

You nod desperately, fingers scrabbling against his back as San's thrusts grow uneven. His breath comes in short, sharp bursts against your neck, damp puffs that send shivers racing down your spine.

"Tell me you want me to fill you up." San's voice was ragged, his breath hot against your ear as his hips pistoned into you with slow, deliberate strokes. Each thrust dragged against oversensitive nerves, your body still trembling from the aftershocks of your climax. You whimpered, fingers tightening in his hair as he angled his hips just right. "Say it."

"I— I want it," you gasp, arching against him when his thumb finds your clit again, the pressure just shy of painful. San groans, his forehead pressing against yours as his rhythm stutters.

San's groan vibrates against your throat, a rough, shattered sound that matches the way his hips jerk erratically against yours. His fingers dig into the meat of your thighs hard enough to bruise as he shudders through his release, his cock pulsing deep inside you. Heat floods your core, thick and insistent, and you gasp at the unfamiliar sensation. Your husband had always pulled out after your first child, always kept that final intimacy at arm's length. But San? San fills you completely, his body bowed over yours like a man praying at an altar.

The aftershocks pulsed through you like slow, liquid heat. San's weight pressing you into the leather seat, his breathing ragged against your collarbone. His fingers traced idle patterns on your hip, where your dress had ridden up; the touch was incongruously gentle compared to what had just transpired. The car smelled like sweat and sex, the windows still fogged from your mingled breaths. You stared at the ceiling, acutely aware of the way his softening cock still nestled inside you, the sticky warmth between your thighs.

Neither of you said anything at first. The silence stretched between you, thick with the weight of what just happened. San was the first to move, pulling away carefully. His fingers trembled slightly as he adjusted his pants, the quiet click of his belt buckle sounding absurdly loud in the confined space. You stayed where you were, legs still splayed indecently, the cool leather biting into your overheated skin.

He stayed quiet as he began to clean you up with the silk pocket square from his jacket, the fabric catching on your oversensitive skin. You watched him, really watched him for the first time since this began. The way his eyelashes cast shadows on his sharp cheekbones, the slight tremor in his usually steady hands. The silence was a living thing between you, swollen with unasked questions.

"San," you whisper, the name cracking in your throat like thin ice. His hands pause where they're smoothing your skirt down your thighs, knuckles brushing against the damp mess he'd just wiped away. The overhead car light catches the sweat still clinging to his temple, the undone collar of his shirt revealing the rapid pulse at his throat. "Will you... stay with me tonight?"

The lecture hall is silent, not because people are learning.But because everyone is collectively thinking: why is he like this.

“He’s so fucking weird,” you rant, flopping dramatically onto Wooyoung’s bed like a Victorian woman with consumption. Wooyoung doesn’t even look up at first. He’s halfway through a juice box like a five-year-old, laptop balanced on his knee as he scrolls through his module.

“If it’s that bad,” he hums, finally glancing at you, “I’ve got a friend who took that psych subject last semester.” You narrow your eyes. “If you say you, I’m dropping out.” He ignores you, “High school friend. Got like… a 95 or something.”

You sit up immediately. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” he nods. “Remember San? The guy I introduced you to during orientation?” You do remember Choi San. Unfortunately. Because nothing about that man screams “psychology major.”

He looks like he invests in crypto for fun. Hoodies, varsity jackets, and now because it’s summer, collared polos that make him look like he’s about to discuss property investments over brunch at a country club. Add in the slightly slicked-back hair and those stupidly attractive “professor glasses” Wooyoung won’t shut up about? Yeah. If anything, he looks like the type to say “trust me, bro” before losing your life savings.

But annoyingly, he’s actually good at teaching.

Like, actually good. Patient. Clear. Explains things without making you feel like a complete idiot. Which is impressive, considering you have the attention span of a drunk raccoon in a nightclub.

two. 

Every Thursday at 3pm, without fail, you show up at his student dorm. The sun is brutal, like “if I step outside any longer I might legally evaporate” levels of heat and the pavement looks one degree away from melting into soup. His building is… depressing. You take note of that the first time you visited, looking up from Google maps and thinking to yourself “is this a minimalist prison?”. A soulless, overpriced shoebox where the entire personality is “neutral tones” and “minimalist’s wet dream” 

You text him and wait near the front entrance, he opens the door. You step inside. And then; awkward silence.

The elevator ride up is always quiet. Not uncomfortable. Just… weirdly formal. Like you’re both pretending this is a professional tutoring session and not whatever this is.

His room is small. Entryway, wardrobe on the left, bathroom on the right. Tiny kitchen with two stovetops that look like they’ve never experienced joy, a desk, a bed, and a window overlooking the university park. There's his things scattered around, which does help make it feel more alive, but that's about it.

You take the plush chair on his desk, and he takes the plastic one.

Week one.

You are the picture of academic validation; Notes. Questions. Engagement. You prepared,  You revised beforehand so he wouldn’t think you’re dumb. You’re nodding like you understand everything. You’re saying things like “that’s interesting” unironically.

You are a liar, but at least you are a convincing one.

Week two?

Forty minutes in, your phone comes out, subtly. Like you think you’re slick.

San notices, of course he does. His friend (your cousin) has the same habit of finding whatever view is the nearest more interesting, tongue in cheek, before fiddling with his fingers whenever he finds something annoying or uninteresting.  But you’re still answering everything correctly, so he just lets it go.

You’re also dressed for the heat, henley top, a few buttons undone, short skirt, because the weather decided to cosplay the sun. San, mid-explanation, pauses for half a second. His Adam’s apple bobs, and he looks away. Mouth agape for a second but shut the second he regained composure so you wouldn't think he's a creep. 

Then he continues, like nothing happened. You pretend you didn’t notice, of course. But as it turns out. 

You both pretend a lot of things.

Week three?

He realises something. You are, unfortunately, the same breed of menace as Wooyoung.

Which explains everything, actually. When he talks, you nod. Then slowly, your hand drifts to your phone. At first, he’s offended. You can tell. He pauses more, and his jaw tightens. But over time, he just exhales and resigned to continuing his ramble.

“...as long as you’re listening,” he mutters once while flipping through his notebook

You are listening, surprisingly. He is good at explaining.

You’re just also on TikTok, scrolling through videos. You are a multitasker, after all. 

three. 

“So, neutral stimulation essentially—” He stops mid-sentence for the first time, his jaw clenches before inhaling slowly like he’s trying very hard not to commit a crime.

You, completely oblivious, stretch in your chair. Arms up, back arching slightly.

Your shirt rides up just a bit, just enough to expose some of the skin of your stomach. 

San immediately turns his head, and the window suddenly becomes the most fascinating thing he has ever seen. You drop your arms, glance at him, and smirk. “Lose your train of thought, professor?”

He doesn’t even look at you, murmuring as he flips through his notes from last semester “Don’t call me that.”

“Oh?” you tilt your head, sweet and insufferable. “But the glasses—”

“Continue reading page 42.”

“Wow,” you lean back, crossing your legs slowly, deliberately. “Authoritative.”

Silence.

“You’re failing this subject.”

You grin at him, the same grin that Wooyoung has. Physically it's different, but it radiated the same amount of mischief and playfulness. 

“Not with you teaching me” you purr at him. 

He mentally rolls his eyes at you. 

Tonight he's on classical and operant conditioning. You know this because he said classical and operant conditioning twenty minutes ago and you said okay and opened TikTok.

"The unconditioned stimulus," San is saying, somewhere to your left, "produces an unconditioned response without any learning. So Pavlov's dogs salivated at food before any conditioning occurred. Are you following."

"Mhm," you say, to your phone

"So," San says, and something in his voice has shifted, just slightly, just enough that some animal part of your brain lifts its head “let's say you're crossing a road, you press on the pedestrian button. Do you think that counts as classical or operant conditioning?” He turns to you, your eyes are still glued to whatever interesting video your friends are sending you as you hum, “operant. You receive reward or feedback from an action.” 

“That's correct,” San says,  "if every single time you wear a short skirt," a beat, "and I get hard, is that a voluntary or involuntary response?” 

You hum again, trying to think. But then your brain rewinds and tries to register his words, and your thumb stops scrolling.

You look up, and  San is looking at you with an expression you have never seen on him before. His eyes that's usually warm, usually easy, the eyes of someone Wooyoung described once as annoyingly likeable, are sharp. Dark at the edges. His notes are still spread in front of him and his pen is still in his hand and his jaw is tight in a way that makes something in your stomach drop several floors 

"Hold on," you say. "Wait."

"You've been teasing me," he says, simply. Not an accusation. Just a fact he's decided to present. "For three weeks."

"I haven't—"

His eyes drop to the skirt, comes back up.

You have been. You know you have been. You are not going to say that.

"San"

"Voluntary or involuntary" he says. "Answer the question."

Your mouth opens. Your psych knowledge, what little has survived three weeks of looking at him instead of his notes, scrambles for purchase. “Involuntary” you say, because the skirt was before the.. because the response would be… because…

"Good," he says, and the word lands differently than you expected, low and warm and doing something to your pulse that you would like to not examine right now  "so if I talk to you like this" his voice drops, just slightly, just enough, "and you get wet"

Your face goes hot.

"That's an involuntary response," he continues, calm, clinical, San, who has been Wooyoung's friend since high school and is now looking at you like you're something he's been patient about  "isn't it, dove." The dove goes directly into your sternum and stays there.

"That's—" you start  "Unconditioned," he says. "Means you can't help it. Means it's not your fault." He tilts his head, just slightly. "You're already wet, aren't you."

You are not going to answer that.

 The answer is yes, you are not going to say yes. You are better than a dog during mating season. 

He nuzzles against you and something in him just snaps. Three weeks. Three weeks of short skirts and tiktok and that mouth and the way you tilt your head when you're actually listening which is always, annoyingly, always  three weeks of being patient and good and sitting in the plastic chair out of courtesy while you get the comfortable one and explaining conditioning theory while you cross and uncross your legs like you're doing it on purpose. 

Three weeks of blue balls in his own dorm room on a Thursday at 3pm like clockwork and he is done. “ your pupils dilated when I moved closer. That's not something you can fake, dove." San’s eyes are like laser beams staring into yours, and you have to pretend that you're not intimidated. 

“I have no idea what you're talking about” you say, you try leaning backwards even more if that's even possible, because your back is already against his chair and it's getting suffocating. “You've been conditioning me too” San says gently “every Thursday you always wear these..short skirts and slightly unbuttoned henley tops” his eyes flickered down to your slightly exposed chest “did you think I wouldn't notice the pattern, dove?” 

You decided to bring Wooyoung into the conversation as a last resort, somewhat of a ‘hail Mary'. “What will Wooyoung think about this?” Your voice comes out small and raw, your throat feels as dry as a desert and suddenly the afternoon sun shining through his window feels too much. 

San actually pauses at this, he considers it.

 "Wooyoung," San says, thoughtfully, "would say you've been asking for this for three weeks." A beat. "He knows you.". "Same mouth," San says, almost fond, sliding his hand up your thigh, "same deflection tactics. Doesn't work on me either.”

The position he's got you in is embarrassing. 

He's kneeling in front of you, kneeling between your legs that are placed on top of his broad shoulders. His fingers are playing with the hem of your skirt, this is probably the most awkward and tense lead up to sex you've ever had if it wasn't for the pounding in your chest.  He presses his face against your mound and breathes it in. "San I don't think this is appropriate—" 

 That voice, that voice that is all Wooyoung, sassy and deflecting and nervous underneath, and something behind his eyes makes a decision that his patience has been vetoing for twenty one days. His hands find your underwear and he pulls them down fast, none of the gentle peeling he'd planned, just off, gone, your ankles and then the floor and then he looks at you and exhales through his nose hard like a man who has been waiting a long time and is now very close and cannot be reasonable about it 

He open mouth and kisses you hard, not soft, not polite, lips and tongue and heat all at once, messy and immediate, his hands pushing your thighs apart when they try to close and holding them there with a grip that means no, stay, and you gasp so loud it bounces off the walls of his small neutral-coloured dorm room. 

San licks into you rough and thorough, not slowly, not academically;  hungry, is the word, three weeks worth of hunger and his tongue working through you fast and deliberate and the sounds he's making are low and continuous and genuine and nothing like the patient tutor, nothing like country club polo shirt san, nothing like anything she's seen from him before surfaces. Chin soaked. Eyes absolutely wrecked. Jaw tight.

"I was right," he says, and his voice has dropped into something rough and frayed at the edges, "involuntary response." He pushes your thighs wider and looks at you and his chest is heaving slightly  "you're wet." Thumb parting your labia, proving his point, watching your face twitch "you've been wet, haven't you."

"San—"

"How long," he says. Not asking gently. His grip on the meat of your thighs tightens. "How long have you been sitting in that chair like that"

"I don't know what you're—"

"Dove," he says, and the word comes out low and sharp and nothing like when he said it before, "I have your underwear on my floor. We are past the part where you pretend.”

"Three weeks," he says, and something in his jaw is doing the thing, the tight furious fond thing, "of that skirt and that mouth and you sitting in my chair crossing your legs every five minutes—" he ducks down and licks into you hard and fast and you cry out and your hand flies into his hair and grips and he groans against your cunt, as if saying yes, there, before he finally surfaces again immediately, breathing rough. "You've been doing this on purpose."

You open your mouth to say something. 

"Don't," he says. His eyes are dark and his mouth is slick and he has never once in three weeks of Thursdays looked like this, the gentle hunk is somewhere else entirely, this is what was underneath the polo shirt the whole time  "don't tell me you weren't." His hands shove your thighs wide and he goes back down and this time he doesn't surface, just stays, tongue working into her rough and relentless, no warmup no mercy no academic pace, just three weeks of patience cashing out all at once  and the sounds coming out of you are embarrassingly immediate and loud and you’re grinding against his face before she means to and he groans like that's exactly what he wanted, like he's been wanting her to stop being polite about it.  His fingers push in without warning.  two, immediately, rough and deep and you gasp so hard you choke on it, your back arches clean off the chair and his tongue doesn't stop, won't stop, is working at your clit fast and relentless while his fingers curl and drive and find the thing that makes your thighs shake around his head. God, he loves it when you squeeze his head with your legs. He's always wanted those thighs wrapped around his face. 

"San, San that's too—" He doesn't stop. His fingers pump into you rough slick and loud, the wet sounds obscene in the small room, and he makes a low hungry noise against your clit that vibrates through your entire body and the grip in his hair tightens. He surfaces one more time. Breathing wrecked. Hair destroyed from your hands. Eyes dark and satisfied and still sharp. "You want this," he says, rough, his fingers still moving inside you. watching your face fall apart, "say it."

"Three weeks, dove," his fingers curl,  "say it."

"I want it " it comes out broken and small and honest and he smiles.  "Good girl," he says, finally, warm underneath all the rough, and pulls you off the chair and onto the bed in one motion, "was that so hard?"

You don't give an answer because his fingers are still inside and your brain has stopped providing useful output and somewhere on the floor the psych notes and your underwear are keeping each other company and it's thursday at 5 pm. The sun is giving the dull room a golden glow.

 Wooyoung is never finding out about this.

He's got one hand on your waist, guiding your head towards the edge of his bed. Your head is almost tipping back off the mattress until the world inverts and you're looking at the wall upside down, the ceiling and the underside of his desk, and San who's still got that slight flush on his cheek. Everything is making you slightly dizzy and warm in a way that's wrong in the absolute best way. 

Your clothes are still half on, skirt shoved up, shirt slightly pushed down so San could see your bra. He considers taking the entire thing off but hormones said no and he'll take what he can get. You're a mess, general evidence of someone who got relocated mid sex, you make a noise of protest about the position but San places a hand on your sternum gently as a warning. From this angle he's just a shape above you. Dark eyes looking down at her inverted face, jaw tight, hair slightly messed from your hands, and he looks big, from here, the perspective doing something to the gentle hunk image that makes your stomach swoop hard

You hear his zipper.

"Three weeks," he says, conversationally, from above you, "of sitting in my chair." You feel him, the blunt warm press of him against your lips, and your mouth opens automatically,  conditioned response, you think deliriously, unconditioned response, whatever, you don't care. 

 "open wider, dove." He taps on your lower lips. You open wider.

He pushes in slow from above and gravity does the rest and the angle is.. the angle is everything, the stretch of your throat, the depth he reaches without trying, and you gag immediately and he makes a low sound that is definitely not an apology 

"There she is," he says, fond and rough simultaneously, his hand coming to rest on your throat,  not pressing, just feeling, feeling himself there, and the intimacy of that makes your eyes prick "been wanting to see this for weeks." His hips start to move. Shallow at first, just enough to feel the flutter of your throat around him, and simultaneously his other hand finds you still slightly wet and pushes in  two fingers, immediate, curling and the sound you make around him is muffled and desperate and your hips jolt up as an involuntary response. "Stay still," he says, and he sounds wrecked already, voice low and tight, "you're going to take both."

You try. You cannot stay still. His fingers are working into your gummy walls rough and deep and his hips are rolling forward. You're upside down and dizzy and full from both ends and the blood is rushing to your head and everything feels static and warmth. 

"So good," he breathes above and you can hear it in his voice, the crack in it, the three weeks worth of wanting underneath the composed psych tutor "you're so good, look at you" his fingers curl and you gag around him, he hisses sharply  "taking it like you were made for it". Yout hands find his thighs from below, the only anchor you have. “Mean girl," he says, low and fond and rough, hips pushing deeper, fingers pumping fast and slick "three weeks of that skirt"  you gag. "and that mouth" his fingers curl.  "and now look at you." You can't look at anything. The room is sideways and warm and his hand on your throat feels every sound you try to make before it gets past his cock and your eyes are streaming from the position and the fullness and the fingers working into you without mercy 

"Involuntary response," he says, somewhere above you, strained and quiet and almost gentle "see. Your body always knew." His thumb finds your clit and presses, your muffled cry vibrates around him and his rhythm stutters.  "Gonna be good for me from now on," he breathes, and it lands somewhere soft and permanent, fond underneath all the rough "aren't you, dove."

You squeeze his thighs. He takes it as the yes it is.

He finishes with his head tipped back and his hand braced on the mattress edge and a sound that isn't a word, just air leaving him rough and involuntary, his hips pressed forward and his fingers buried and your throat working around him milking every last bit of it down. He stays there for a moment, catching himself. The room is loud with both of you breathing, then he pulls out slow and you cough immediately, turning your head, gasping, the sudden absence of him leaving your throat raw and your lungs grateful and your whole upside down world spinning. he gets his hands under your head before it can drop, careful now, guiding you back up to horizontal and then sitting you upright on the edge of the mattress and crouching in front of you, hands on your knees, watching your face with those sharp warm eyes gone soft at the edges. 

"Look at me," he says, quietly. Tutor San is back, checking for feedback. You look at him. Streaming eyes, wrecked throat, hair absolutely destroyed, and you meet his gaze and don't tap, don't pull back, just breathe and blink and hold his eyes, and he reads you the way he reads everything, thoroughly, and something in his shoulders drops half an inch. 

Then his eyes go down.

His fingers are still slick. His hand, the one that had been inside you, and the bedsheets beneath where you'd been are wet.  he goes very still for a moment looking at the evidence of what you did somewhere between the third finger and the ceiling, while you were crying and muffled and shaking.  He groans. Low and genuine and a little devastated about it.

"You came," he says. Not an accusation. Just awe, slightly. Like you've done something to him personally. Your face goes hot. You say nothing.

"All over my fingers," he continues, and his voice has done the thing again, the rough fond thing, and his jaw shifts "and my sheets." He looks up at you. "Dove."

"I didn't mean to." You say, sounding somewhat normal for someone who just got their throat destroyed. He pushes you back toward the headboard.Not roughly but with the particular energy of someone who has just been handed new information and intends to do something with it immediately, guiding you up the mattress until your back meets the headboard and you're against it and he's kneeling over you and his hands find your legs.  One goes up. One stays down. The split is immediate and exposing and your whole body protests the stretch and you grab his shoulder 

"San, wait.  I'm still—"

"I know," he says, and lines himself up, and you can feel the thick blunt head of him and you're shaking, you've been shaking for ten minutes, your thighs are trembling and your throat is raw and you are not prepared. He pushes in whole. One go. Slow but complete and entirely without mercy, seating himself fully while you're still adjusting to the split of your own legs, and the scream that comes out of you is immediate and loud and his hand claps over your mouth fast, dorm building, is the distant thought, neighbors.  The scream goes into his palm and he feels it and his jaw does the tight thing and his eyes close briefly like he needs a second. 

You're full. Impossibly, completely full, the stretch of him in the split position deeper than anything, kissing parts of you that have never been introduced to anyone, and it hurts, the good kind, the kind that lives right next door to more and shares a wall.  He opens his eyes and looks at you. Hand still over your mouth. Your eyes are streaming again, fresh tears, and you're shaking underneath him and gripping his arm hard enough to leave marks 

"Oops," he says.

You stare at him.

"Should've been more gentle," San says, and his voice is wrecked and his jaw is tight and he is buried to the hilt inside you and he is smiling, just slightly, just the corner of his mouth,  the gentle hunk smile, the country club smile, worn by a man who is currently doing the opposite of gentle and is not sorry about it in any capacity. 

You bite his palm.

He tips his hips forward just slightly and you make a muffled sound against his hand and stop biting.  "There," he says, soft, fond, wrecked, his forehead dropping toward yours, "there she is." His free hand finds your hip and grips. "Hold on." He starts to move, your breath is knocked out of your lungs.

four. 

The view outside his window has always been your favourite. Overlooking a park near University and slightly covered by a tree, right now the view is indifferent to whatever just happened as the sunlight seeps through. San’s sun-kissed skin looks more golden as he's thrusting on top of you, courtesy of the warm ball of fire thousands of kilometres away. He starts slow. That's almost kind of him. Deep and rolling, the split position is already devastating on its own, and you're trying to breathe through it, trying to find the rhythm, your hands in the sheets and your eyes at the ceiling and your whole body doing the recalibration it needs to do when someone is that deep.  Then he makes a sound. Low and involuntary. And stops being slow.

"Fuck—"

He shifts. One fluid motion, hoisting himself upright from braced over you to sitting, changing the entire geometry of it,  your leg still up, perpendicular, his hands finding purchase, and the new angle makes the world tilt and you make a sound that isn't a word because he's deeper, somehow deeper than before, deeper than you thought the position allowed.  He looks down at your stomach.

Goes very still for exactly one second.

"San—"

He presses his right hand flat against your lower abdomen. Palm down. Feeling. And then his hips pull back and drive forward and his hand feels it and his jaw drops open slightly and he makes the most wrecked sound you have heard from him all afternoon 

"Oh,"  he says, soft and devastated, "oh that's—"

His hips snap forward again and he watches his own hand, watches the slight shift beneath it, and his expression does something that has no business being as attractive as it is,  dark eyes wide and jaw loose and chest heaving and he looks like someone who has just made a discovery he wasn't prepared for and intends to repeat the experiment indefinitely.  The tears come back immediately. Different this time,  not from the throat, not from the fingers, just from the sheer overwhelming fullness of him at this angle, kissing your cervix on every stroke, his right hand pressing down and feeling himself move inside you and his left hand finding your face. Not covering your mouth this time. Just  cupping your cheek. Tilting your face up toward his. Catching the tears with his thumb while his hips work into you rough and relentless and his right hand stays pressed flat on your stomach watching.

You cry into his palm and he lets you.

"Look at that," he breathes, eyes still down, hips snapping forward,  you feel the bulge shift under his hand and sob  "look at—" another thrust,  "you're taking all of me—" his voice cracks on it  "feel that?" You feel it. You feel it everywhere. You feel it in your spine and behind your eyes and in the specific place where coherent thought used to live.  "San, San it's too much!"

"It's not," he says, and his left thumb wipes your cheek gently while his right hand presses down firmly on the next thrust and you cry out and your back arches and your hands scrabble for something to hold onto and find his knee, grip it hard and he looks at your hand on his knee and then back at your face and something in his expression cracks clean open Fond. Devastatingly, helplessly fond. Underneath all the rough and the jaw and the right hand monitoring the bulge like a researcher who has found his life's work.  just fond. "Doing so well," he says, quiet, almost to himself, hips rolling forward deep and slow for just a moment, giving you a breath,  his left hand stroking your cheek while his right hand just rests, warm and present  "taking it so well, dove."

You make a sound against his palm that has no dignity left in it whatsoever. "Yeah," San says softly, and his hips snap back to rough, and his right hand presses down, and he watches with those dark wrecked eyes as the evidence of him moves beneath his palm and his head tips back for just a second, jaw tight, the sight of it doing something to him that three weeks of thursdays have clearly been building to.  "Mine," he says, at the ceiling, rough and quiet and certain, his right hand pressing down and his left hand cradling your face while you cry and take it. 

The university park is outside the window. The psych notes are on the floor. Your underwear is somewhere near the desk. and you are never going to be able to sit in that plush chair again without thinking about how your psychology tutor rearranged your guts on this very date. 

"No more," you're saying, and you mean it, you think you mean it, "please San, I can't no more" He tips you into missionary like he's rearranging pillows. One hand on your hip, one on your thigh, and you go over easy because your body has stopped taking instructions from your mouth, which he knows, which is maybe why he doesn't answer you  just settles between your thighs and looks down at you, wrecked and tear-streaked and shaking, and his chest is heaving and his hair is destroyed and his polo shirt is somewhere on the floor and he looks unhinged, is the thing, the composed patient tutor has left the building entirely and what's left is this jaw tight, eyes dark, breathing rough, a man who has completely lost the plot and is not looking for it. 

"San please I'm serious" your whines fall deaf on his ears. He pushes back in. The sound you make rolls up from somewhere deep and involuntary and your eyes go wide and your hands fly to his chest and he catches your wrists, pins them above your head in one hand, and bottoms out and stays there, fully seated, looking down at your stomach. He goes very still.

His free hand moves to your lower abdomen. Presses flat. Slow. Deliberate. Feeling.

He pulls back slightly and pushes in and watches his hand and the sound he makes is not sane. "Shit" low and wrecked and wondering, "shit, I'm—" he thrusts again and his hand feels it and his jaw drops  "I'm in so deep, baby"

You're drooling. You realize this distantly. The position and the crying and the overwhelming fullness and his hand on your stomach has shorted something out and your mouth is just  open, tears and spit, every refined thing about you completely dissolved,  you are drooling on your own chin and your eyes are doing the thing where they're not focusing on anything in particular and you can't bring them back.

He looks at your face and laughs. Not a mean laugh, or not only a mean laugh. It's genuine, delighted, slightly unhinged, the laugh of a man who got a 95 in psychology and spent three weeks being patient and is now watching his carefully maintained study partner drool on herself on his mattress and finding it the funniest most devastating thing he's ever seen. 

"Look at you," he breathes, still laughing, jaw tight and eyes crinkling and nothing about this is composed anymore  "look at your face" he thrusts rough and watches your eyes roll and laughs again, softer, rougher, the laugh turning into something else at the edges. "where'd your mouth go, dove, hm?" Another thrust. "All that attitude"  thrust  "three weeks of that smart mouth".  His hand presses down on the bulge. You drool more. Your eyes go completely. "Pathetic," he says, and he sounds fond about it, devastatingly fond, like pathetic is the best thing he's ever seen, his hand covers your mouth now, palm flat, catching the drool and the muffled broken sounds you're making and he feels you against his palm, every sob, every whine, every attempt at please and no more that has no real weight behind it. 

He presses down on your stomach with his other hand and thrusts hard and watches the bulge move under his palm and his laugh dies into something low and reverent and barely human.  "Fuck," he breathes, "fuck, that's—" pressing down, thrusting in, watching his jaw is working like he's biting down on something, teeth catching his lower lip, the expression of a man doing long division to stay functional. "so deep inside you baby, you feel that?"

You feel it. Your eyes are somewhere in the back of your head. You are drooling into his palm and making sounds that would embarrass you if embarrassment was something you still had access to.

"Ruined," he says, rough and laughing and wrecked, his hips snapping forward and his hand pressing down,  watching your stomach, watching your face, watching your rolled eyes and your open mouth and the complete and total wreckage of the girl who showed up at his door with her short skirt, tiktok videos and her smart mouth every thursday. 

 "I ruined you." Not a question. Just  awed. Delighted. Then he laughs again, quieter now, the mad fond laugh of someone who didn't expect this to happen and cannot believe it has. "three weeks and I completely ruined you" He presses down hard on the bulge and holds and drives in and your muffled scream goes into his palm and he watches your eyes roll back with the expression of a man who has won something and intends to collect. "Smart girl," he murmurs, soft, his thumb stroking your cheek even now, even through all of it, the gentleness underneath the rough that has always been there  "my smart girl,  where'd she go, hm?"

You’re gone. completely gone. drooling into his hand on a Thursday afternoon with psych notes on the floor and definitely not coming back for a while. San laughs again, low and quiet and completely mad about it. "There she is," he says. Another laughter rip from his chest, cold and unforgiving but still has the undertones of the sweet and patient San you know. 

You have a feeling that this will go on till the golden hour passes and the evening hues taken on the room, and you’re proven correct as San turns you over. You let out a yelp of disagreement, but it is quickly muffled by a pillow. You could feel his looming presence behind you as he prepares himself again. 

Your awareness was at an all time high.

It felt like your nervous system was teaming up with your body to try to warn you of a potentially dangerous situation. Goosebumps spread across your skin. You had a sinking feeling in your stomach as if something had you in their sights and nothing could take their attention away.

It was what you assumed a small animal in the forest felt before coming face to face with a tiger.

Which wasn't too much of a stretch, exaggeration wise, when it came to being under Hongjoong’s watchful eye.

You had been out for a little over an hour now, your friends had invited you to a celebration of- someone? For- something they had done?

The intent wasn’t explained clearly to you and you weren’t sure there even was a real reason for the party apart from just having a party. You were told to show up at Hongjoong’s place, ready to drink, and ready to have a good night.

And you were prepared to take those rules very seriously.

Drinks had been pushed onto you the second you walked through the door. Your friends’ intoxication levels had let you know that they had been at Hongjoong’s place prior to when you were told to show up. Not that you were on time, but it wasn’t late enough for them to get this wasted.

You hadn’t reached that level yet, not for lack of your friend’s trying, but due to being continuously pulled to the “dancefloor”. The dancefloor being the center of Hongjoong’s living room.

You had managed to get about a drink and a half in you in the moments you were able to sneak away from your friend Seonghwa. Who had been “forcing” you to be his dancing partner, since he had managed to tire everyone else out.

It was after the second time he had caught you drifting towards the kitchen that you noticed Hongjoong. You had wondered where he was when you arrived, but due to the constant pulling of your friends you hadn’t had a chance to find him. Typically, he would’ve sought you out the second you arrived but you didn’t blame him for keeping his distance from the drunken group that had clung to you.

As Seonghwa wrapped his fingers around your wrist and drugged you into the scattered bodies between the couches, you felt a disturbance.

That disturbance was Hongjoong.

He was sitting in a far off corner of his living room, the people around him aimlessly talking at him while his attention was on you. His elbows rested on the tops of his thighs, his fingers laced together as his head tilted off to the side, his eyebrow knitted in what you assumed was confusion.

Since that moment, you didn’t have a second where it felt like he had looked away. You would glance over occasionally, thinking the feeling was just in your head, but you were always proven wrong. His eyes stayed glued on you.

You tried to signal for him to join, but he just shook his head, the movement small and slow.

The people around him continued to laugh and talk and he would respond to them, but his gaze never left you.

It would’ve been unsettling if he was anyone else.

Hongjoong and you had been close since you met, the two of you had a chemistry that should be studied. You challenged each other every time you hung out. You could bounce off his jokes, you could retort any remark he shot out, you would help him when he was stuck creatively, and on occasion you would help relieve each others- tension. Both mentally and physically.

It wasn’t a secret and it had gone on long enough that your friends had stopped questioning why the two of you weren’t in a relationship yet.

You liked the little arrangement you had, but you also never knew when he was in the mood to be friendly and just hang out or in the mood to pin you against the wall.

The pit in your stomach let you know that from how he was looking at you it would be a night that was the latter of the two.

He had no issue with staking claim on you in group settings. He often made it known when the two of you were around others that they didn’t have a shot entertaining you, so you weren’t sure why he hadn’t approached you yet. But you were going to have fun until he inevitably did.

Your friends had phased in and out joining you and Seonghwa on the dancefloor. Your best friend danced with her boyfriend alongside you both, Yunho would twirl and dip her as your partner tried to do the same. However, Seonghwa’s coordination had been lost about two drinks ago as he flung you around carefully. His arms were never not around your back or waist as he manhandled you and called it dancing.

You were giggling, being tossed around as your other friends drunkenly circled around you. You wished that Hongjoong would join you all, but it seemed he was stuck on the couch in the corner.

As the hours passed, your friends had slowly started tiring themselves out the more they drank. San had tried, and failed, to start about four congo lines before passing out on a nearby couch. Yeosang tried to watch over him as Mingi poked, prodded, and took selfies with his unconscious body. He gave it a good effort to swat him away before ultimately deciding it’d be best to lock him in one of the spare bedrooms with the help of Jongho before the two headed out for the night.

Most of the people had left, leaving only the close group of friends behind. Your best friend was in the process of watching her boyfriend attempt to wrangle Mingi into their car, sending you a quick wave before following close behind the two.

And the party host? Still sitting on the damn couch. Even as people approached him for goodbyes, he’d only offer them a hand to pull them into a half hug but his ass never left his seat. You figured his legs must’ve been numb at this point.

“We’ve lost San.” Wooyoung, the man who invited you to all this, grabbed your shoulders to spin you away from Seonghwa in a panic.

You placed a hand on his chest, “Babe, San is still with us. He’s alive and in the spare room.”

The blonde shook his head with a frown, “No, he’s gone.”

“What do you mean?” Seonghwa questioned as he continued to do the sprinkler with concern on his features. Wooyoung involuntarily started bobbing along to match his rhythm, “He’s not in the room.”

Seonghwa’s hand fell to his sides as he took in a sharp inhale, “Aissh- do you think he made a run for it?”

Wooyoung slowly started getting more into the song playing, stepping side to side as he shrugged.

“He might still be in the house.” You looked between the two of them. “I’ll help you look.”

Wooyoung caught you in his hands before dipping you, “I’ve looked everywhere in this house. He’s gone, all we can do is move forward.”

You pushed yourself to stand with a laugh, “If I ever go missing, I want you nowhere in my search party.”

“If you go missing, I’d likely be with you.” he grabbed your wrist to spin you into his chest. His eyes scanned your face with a soft smile as he pushed back the hair that had fallen across your face.

You couldn't argue with that, you and Wooyoung were close and were probably the most likely to go missing if left alone for too long. As your hands pressed against his chest, the music abruptly came to a halt.

The three of you turned to face the couch where Hongjoong still sat, his phone in his hand with a remote app pulled onto the screen. His eyes locked onto your hands, his jaw crooked with his tongue pressed against the roof of his mouth sharply.

Seonghwa cleared his throat, his hand slapping against Wooyoung’s back. “San most likely started walking home, you know how much he loves sleeping in his own bed. We can probably catch him down the road before he passes out in a bush somewhere.” The taller of the two spoke with a hesitant voice, his attention still on the host.

Wooyoung nodded with a mumble in agreement, his grip on you ending faster than it started.

“Let me grab my stuff, I’ll come with yo-“

“No. No. I think you have your own situation to deal with.” Seonghwa politely waved you off with a laugh, his eyes ticking over to the corner.

You hesitantly looked at Hongjoong. He placed his phone against the arm on the couch before his fingers twitched to call you over. The look he gave you was enough to make your throat tighten as he leaned back to rest into the cushions.

“You’ve always been my favorite, I’ll miss you.” Wooyoung joked, pulling you into him to place a kiss on your forehead. Hongjoong’s intake of breath is audible with the music off. The blonde sent you a weak smile before being pulled off by Seonghwa towards the front door.

The two shouted goodbyes before shutting you in the house alone with a seemingly irritated man.

You felt your body heat as you stood alone in the center of his living room, the same place you had practically made a home in all night. It felt weird without everyone there, like you were on a stage.

Especially with the attention being solely on you.

“The party was great-“ you tried before he cut you off mid sentence.

“Come here. Now.” he moved his hand to point down against his thigh.

“No one lets me talk around here.” you cursed under your breath but your feet carried you towards him without a second thought. It wasn’t a long stretch to where he sat, and you stood in front of him with a pout. “I don’t know why you’re using that tone with me, I didn’t do anything.” you sulked, not fully understanding why he was so on edge.

You had danced with the guys many times on many occasions and it had never been an issue, but you could tell he had one with it tonight. For some reason.

He exhaled deeply, his tone sharp, “You didn’t drink that much tonight so I assume your eyes work.”

Your eyebrows pushed together in confusion as you nodded, “My eyes are fine. Yours seem to have a staring problem though.”

He ignored your remark as the corners of his lips twitched, almost breaking into a smile but he had enough restraint to hold it back.

“That’s not where I’m pointing, is it?” he asked, his finger having not left their original position.

You scoffed, “If you’re going to be a dick, I prefer to fight standing.”

His jaw locked, the intensity in which he glared was intimidating even in his seated position.

He didn’t say anything more, he didn’t need to.

You knew you didn’t have the ability to stand your ground when it came to him being so dominant. If anything, you were using all your strength to stop yourself from flinging yourself on to him. Your heart skips just at the idea alone.

You tried to refrain from giving in, which lasted about ten seconds before you rolled your eyes and perched yourself on top of his right thigh.

He hummed in approval, his hand moving to sit at the small of your back. “You always look so beautiful.” His thumb slowly traced back and forth into the fabric of your dress, “But you look edible in this.”

“And yet, you haven’t spoken to me all night.” you huffed, feeling your face warm as he stared lazily up at you. His shift in tone catches you off guard. A laugh slipped from his lips, “You knew where to find me.”

You relaxed more into him, your arm coming to lay across the back of the couch pushing your side to rest into his chest. “You’re the host, you should be making rounds to greet others.” you pouted, looking down at him.

He mocked your expression, his bottom lip jutting out, “What? Was everyone’s attention not enough for you? You needed more?”

You groaned, rolling your eyes away from him as his free hand caught your chin. “I let the first one go, don’t push your luck. You’re lucky you're sitting and not across my lap.” he spoke through his teeth.

You knew he hated when you rolled your eyes, which is why you did it. If he was going to be annoying, you would be too. “I didn’t do anything.” you spoke through your smushed lips.

“You did plenty.” he let out a dry laugh, “You showed up in that dress and let our friends grab at you all night.”

You immediately realized what was going on, your hand reaching up to pull his grip from your face. He let you move him with no resistance as your lips spread into a smile.

He tilted his head in response, “What’s so funny?”

“You’re jealous.” you teased.

He scoffed, “You knew what kind of man I was when you met me.”

“Being jealous when strangers hit on me is one thing but you’ve never been jealous of Seonghwa and Wooyoung of all people.” You couldn’t help but laugh, they constantly flirted with you for fun in front of him and it had never been an issue. They weren’t even acting out tonight, if anything, they were tame in comparison to other hangouts.

You waited for him to explain himself but he just continued to glare up at you. His chest rising and falling at a rapid rate as you could see him trying to come up with an excuse in his head.

You laughed again, unable to contain it as you tried to cover your mouth with your hand, “It’s Wooyoung and Seonghwa!” The entire situation felt ridiculous to you, you didn’t mean to laugh but you couldn’t help it.

“You find this funny?” he seethed up at you, his expression was angry but his cheeks and ears were flushed. He was clearly embarrassed, but you knew if the roles were reversed he would be doing the exact same to you.

His hand snatched your wrist and pulled it to his lap, using his fingers to flatten it around a very prominent bulge in his pants. Your laughter stopped abruptly as he moved your hand to rub over it, letting out a shaky breath.

“I’ve been dealing with this for hours and you’re laughing?” he gritted through his teeth, his eyes shutting as he released his grip to unbutton his pants before moving to reach for you again.

You let him move your hand to slip into his underwear, your body on autopilot as you began to stroke him in his pants with him guiding you. Your thighs pressed together as you bit your bottom lip. “I haven’t been able to move, watching my friends grab at you in that little dress. Seeing their hands on my girl-” his voice broke, a whimper falling out as you involuntarily squeezed him at the name.

He let out a soft chuckle, his head falling against the back of the couch. “Watching everyone here look at you, scan you over, thinking they had a chance.” he continued in pants as he sped up your pace. His hand on your back slid along to your side, ducking under your arm to grab at your breast and bring you in closer to his chest. “I’ve been so patient.”

He kneaded your skin, moving to slide under the fabric of your bra and pinch your nipple between his fingers. You gasped, letting him puppet you around while you fully gripped around his cock. His precum spreading over it as a lubricant as your breathing picks up to match his without him even fully touching you.

“I wanted to rip this dress in half. I’ve been trying not to kick everyone out or take you over the table while everyone watches.” he grunted, his head tipping over to lean his face towards your shoulder. He opened his mouth to bite into your skin as he whined at your hand closing on him again. “You like that idea? Want the boys to see what a good slut you are?” he grinned into your flesh, removing his hand from your chest to your bare thigh.

His dirty talk always went straight to your cunt, his voice was always so condescending and it made your brain fuzzy. It didn’t matter what he was saying, it was how he said it.

Your teeth dug so hard into your lip you thought you’d draw blood, your eyes shutting as you resisted melting fully into him. “Nothing to say? You like my dick so much that just touching it has that smart mouth of your speechless?” he lifted his head, his tone teasing and light.

His fingers slapped lightly against your clenched legs, the two spreading without a word from him as he smiled at the response. “If you won’t answer, she will for you.”

His arm wrapped around you as he palmed your heat, his hand meeting with the slick material of your underwear as he took in a sharp inhale at the sensation. “This better be from me.” he hissed, his fingers tracing your folds over the garment before quickly pushing it to the side. The pads of his fingertips collecting your slick with a moan, “Tell me who made you this wet.”

He continued to swirl around your entrance. Your hand’s pace didn’t falter once due to his help, you weren’t sure if you’d be able to even focus if it wasn’t for him. You released your lip from between your teeth to breathe out, “You-“

“Who?” he snapped, his fingers stilling.

He had a very strict rule when you two were getting into it, he loved to hear you breathlessly say his name. He hated when you didn’t. Even if you were speaking to him, you were to respond as if you were telling someone else. You knew this, but he had this ability to blank your brain with ease.

You pouted as his hand removed itself from you, “You know, I was going to be nice even after everything tonight but I don’t think you deserve it.”

“No.” you gasped, your eyes shooting open.

There had been many times that your attitude had made him leave you high and dry but you didn’t do anything tonight.

In almost a desperate plea for release, your hand worked harder on him. His body twitching as he laughed, “Fuck-“

His fingertips dug into your skin, gripping against you to ground himself. “I think-“ he started breathlessly, “You need to make it up to me.”

Without another word, he pulled back from you. He nudged your legs, signaling for you to stand. When you did, he lifted himself to remove his pants. He threw them off to the side before spreading out again, his own hand pumping himself as you watched.

You stood to slide the strap from your dress off your shoulder to slip out of it but he tsk’d, stopping you.

“No, keep it on. You let everyone else touch it tonight but I want to be the one to ruin you in it.” he took in a breath as you watched his tip leak into his fist.

You moved between his legs, sinking down to get your head level with his hips. Your hand grasping on the tops of his thighs as your knees dug into the carpet.

He looked down at you with hooded eyes as you looked up at him, the second your eyes met he twitched again. He swore under his breath as his hand picked up speed, “Keep your eyes on me.”

He whimpered, watching as you licked your lips. Your mouth salivating just at the sight of him, like it was preparing itself for what was about to come on instinct.

“Put those pretty lips to good use, yeah?” he said before letting go of himself and stretching his hands along the back of the couch.

You immediately took him into your mouth, his hips lifting in surprise as you sucked him into the back of your throat. “Fuck- Feeling impatient?” he gasped, his hand lacing into the hair at your crown.

You moaned around him as spit dribbled down the sides of his shaft, his mouth hanging open as he started directing your head up and down against him. The tip of your tongue lifted to trace up and down every vein as his hips shuttered up into you.

Moans fell from his lips as they gained higher in pitch with every thrust to meet your mouth, both hands clutched to the back of your head as you did your best to keep yourself from gagging at the speed and force.

Your fingernails dug into the skin of his thighs, making him hiss. “Maybe I should call them to come back, let them see how much you love my dick.” he grunted, his pace slowing but not faltering. His hips were meeting your face in the middle, lifting from the cushion in slow deep thrusts.

You swallowed around him, his groan so deep it rumbled straight between your legs. You thought your whimper was barely audible, but he had caught it. A dark laugh came from him as his head fell back, “So desperate just from tasting me.”

You were desperate, but for him to do something. The frustration building in your core only grew with every sound that fell from his mouth. His moans echoing in the empty space of his living room, making it hit your ears in surround sound.

You hollowed your cheeks, setting your own speed in an attempt to make him impatient enough to slam you against the couch and fuck you.

“Shit-“ he let out a shaky breath, “Don’t be greedy.”

His words meant nothing to you at this current moment, you ignored his warning as you continued to pull him to the back of your throat. Your jaw feels fully stretched around him as your nose hits his pelvis. Tears built in the corners of your eyes as you tried to breathe your way through his size and length.

He whimpered, his moan sounding like a broken cry as he mumbled a string of curses. You repeated this, your tongue swirling his tip every time you reached the top before sucking him back in.

His hands moved to grip your shoulders, stilling you.

“Are you that cock drunk you can’t hear what I said?” he hissed, his fingers pressing into your skin.

You did your best to continue despite the hold, licking him as his breath was rapid and strained. You moaned around him, his dick twitching at the sound.

He pulled you to stand, “You want my dick that bad then fuck yourself on it.”

Your heart skipped, excitement building in your stomach as he removed himself to lean back against the couch. His arms returned to the back of the couch as his hips pushed down to plant his feet fully on the floor. The angle of his body making your favorite chair to sit on.

You looked up at you, his eyebrows raised. He glanced to his lap and back at you impatiently, “I know you don’t need any help, I’m sure you're soaked.”

He wasn’t wrong, the fabric of your underwear had uncomfortably stuck to you at this point. He was the only man who could get you this hot and bothered without even touching you. The arrogant and chalant look he was giving you did not help.

You bent to free yourself from your underwear, pushing your hands against his chest as you straddled his lap. Your rugburnt knees stinging as they hit the fabric of the couch with your thighs already feeling weak as you hold yourself above him.

Typically, he’d guide you. His hands would find your hips or back to keep you steady, but he didn’t move. His fingers gripped into the cushions as your slick covered his throbbing dick.

You teased him more, sliding him between your folds as you adjusted yourself to fit onto his lap comfortably.

He bit his bottom lip but kept his eyes on you, “Are you going to do something or should we just wrap it up for the night?”

Your eyes widened, a pleading “no” slipping past your lips before you could stop it.

He smirked, his ego fueled by your need to have him.

Your hand reached down between your bodies to stand him straight, leaning up onto your knees to line him with your neglected entrance. He sighed, as if he was bored. Your attention snapping back to his face as the sound ignited something deep inside of you.

The desire to fuck him dumb out of spite.

You pushed him inside of you while sitting yourself until he bottomed out. His lips hanging opened as your hips met.

His fingers dug so deeply into the couch that you thought they would tear it apart. But he still didn’t touch you.

You lifted yourself slowly, feeling every inch of his girth before slamming back down. Making not only him but you gasp in unison.

You grinded your hips against him in a steady rhythm, making sure to hold his gaze as you did. Moans falling freely from your mouth with every bounce against him.

His dick filled you completely but you felt like you couldn’t get enough.

Your legs parted more, a burning sensation in your muscles as you tried to take more and more of him with every move. Your clit caught against his shaft whenever you pushed down, causing your brain to short circuit.

Your fingernails were digging into the material of his shirt, using it to ground yourself as you rode him harder than you ever had.

“Is that-“ he panted, a cocky grin on his face, “Is that the best you got?”

Your eyebrows raised as he laughed, your body still grinding against him. “You wanted to get me off so badly earlier, you think this will do it?” he challenged, “Maybe you tired yourself out by dancing with everyone and anyone all night.”

His words were stern, but his face was giving away his facade. He looked as if he was having the time of his life, his hands twitching in resistance to grab you.

You moved your feet to squat on top of him, if he wanted you to fuck him. You were going to fuck him. Hell, you were going to fuck him up if he kept up his attitude.

“Maybe I did, or maybe my mind is elsewhere.” you instigated, slowing yourself to make him feel every single inch of himself slipping in and out of you.

Your body squeezes him every time you push down on him completely.

He looked at you without amusement, his jaw locking as he processed your words and the feeling of you wrapped around him simultaneously.

“Yeah?” he amused, his tone agitated, “You’re thinking of someone else?”

Your tongue pulled your bottom lip to between your teeth, your eyes shutting as you shrugged. One of your hands moving from his chest to grab at your own. His angered expression only helped the tightness in your stomach build as you felt him twitch inside of you.

His breathing quickened, not only in pleasure but annoyance.

Your eyes snapped open as his hands found your hips, fingertips pressing roughly into your skin as he stopped your movements. You whined, attempting to move with no avail.

“Tell me who you’re thinking of.” he seethed, keeping your body still as he planted his feet further into the floor. You opened your mouth to tell him it was a joke but was cut off by his hips pistoning up into you. The force knocking the air from your lungs. He held you steady, grunting as he bounced you against him.

“Tell me. Who do you think can fuck you better than this?” he groaned, his dick feeling like it had reached inside of your guts.

The force was almost too much, your mouth hanging open as your vision blurred. “Tell me. Seonghwa? Wooyoung? You think they can fuck you the way you like?” he continued, your arms giving out as you laid into his chest. His thrusts never faltered.

“You think they’ll be able to fuck the brat out of you?” he grunted, your walls squeezing around him at the name. He let out a breathless laugh, his face falling into your shoulder. His teeth digging into the exposed flesh.

You yelped, the feeling flooding between your legs.

He positioned himself to fuck up into you, his tip sliding to graze your g-spot with every thrust.

You swore under your breath, the feeling knotting at the pit of your stomach.

“Come on, say their names.” he taunted, his shit eating grin confirming he could feel it too. “Tell me who you’re thinking about.” his voice breaking into a whimper as you squeezed him again. His hips stuttered at the sensation.

He took in a breath through his gritted teeth, his stamina picking up as he pushed himself through your tightness. He brought a hand to his mouth, licking his finger tips before sliding it between your bodies.

He found your clit, circling it as he pounded into you. “What’s the matter, baby? Can’t remember?” he moved his lips back to your neck, biting the sensitive skin and sucking it into his mouth.

You wanted to protest, to tease him more but the only name that ran through your brain was his.

“Hongjoong-“ you gasped, the band in your stomach tightening as he laughed.

“You want to cum?” he cooed.

You could barely lift your head to nod let alone speak.

“You think you deserve to?”

You whined, knowing that you were reaching a point where his permission would mean nothing. He felt too good inside of you. His fingers working magic on your bundle of nerves that made your legs shake.

“Beg me.” he moved his lips to whisper in your ear.

Your mouth responded before your brain could process what he had said, “Hongjoong, please.”

“Tell me- who’s the only one who can fuck you like this?” his voice was strained and you could tell he wouldn’t be able to hold off much longer.

“Hongjoong.” you panted, “Only you.”

“Fuck- say it again.” his eyebrows knitted as he pushed into you deeper than you thought was possible.

“Only you, Hongjoong. I only want you.”

His fingers sped, his thrusts becoming sloppy.

“Keep saying my name as you cum for me.”

You took that as the okay you needed, your orgasm washing over you like a wave. Your mind was blank as you repeated his name like a mantra. Each one that left your lips made me slam into you like a punctuation. As if he was trying to fuck the sound of it into you.

Your over sensitive walls clamping around him as his moans became higher and higher in pitch. His teeth digging into your shoulder to muffle the sounds.

You cried out, the feeling of him becoming too overwhelming.

He detached himself from you as you practically flopped against him, your body feeling drained as he continued to use you like a toy.

“I want you to remember me with every step you take tomorrow. I want you to feel me in your thighs the next time you dance with anyone that isn’t me.” he slammed into you, his hip bones hitting you with a bruising force.

“You’re mine.”

“I’m yours.” You managed to agree, your head lolling against his body.

“Tell me again.” he groaned, his dick twitching inside of you as he lost all rhythm at the sound of your voice.

You licked your lips, attempting to soothe the dryness from your panting, “Hongjoong, I’m yours.”

The second the sentence ended, he let out a groan before slamming into you one final time. His body stilling as he came so hard the force of it made you cry out.

The two of you laid there, your body melted into his as he tried to catch his breath. The movement only bouncing you off of him with every pant.

He buried his face into your neck, peppering kisses against where his teeth had marked.

“I don’t think I can move.” you managed to get out, his laugh in response making your head bob against him. “I don’t want to move.” he responded, kissing your neck again.

“Yeah, you seem to really like this spot.” you joked, pushing your arms to lift yourself to face him.

He looked up at you, his pupils blown as his eyes scanned over your face. “It’s my favorite now.” he breathed out, his hand pushing back at your hair before wrapping around the back of your neck.

He pulled you forward, his lips finding yours.

The two of you drained, lips forming against each other in weak movements. He kissed you softly, inhaling as he held you against him. The intimacy of it makes your stomach flutter.

Your head felt dizzy as you felt him smile against you.

He hummed, kissing you again, his fingers lacing into your hair.

“God, you feel fucking good.” he laughed softly into your lips, causing you to do the same.

There was silence for a minute, the two of you just coming down from your highs.

His hand wrapped around your jaw, lifting you from your laying position to look at him. His thumb traced alongside your cheek, “I didn’t like seeing their hands all over you.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, “Yeah, you hid it really well.”

He rolled his eyes with a smile, “Forget it.”

Your fingers wrapped around his wrist, keeping his hand against you.

He looked back at you, his eyes warm as they scanned over your face.

“I spent the whole night wishing you were with us.” you admitted, turning your head to hide your face into his palm. Kissing it lightly.

“You did?” he smiled, his voice soft. As if he was nervous you’d take it back. Like you were saying it just to make him feel better.

You bit the heel of his palm, a yelp leaving him as he grinned.

“Yeah, but someone just had to get a hard on.” you rolled your eyes.

His fingers grasped your chin lightly, forcing you to look at him.

You waited for him to scold you but instead he brought your lips to his. He let out a contented sigh as he pulled back, “You really want to press your luck right now?”

He pushed his hips up, still inside of you as your thighs screamed in response. The soreness in your muscles burning hot, “Hongjoong, please.”

He groaned, “Begging me is the last thing you should do.”

You moved to push yourself off of him but he locked his arms at the small of your back to keep you still. “Moving makes it worse.” he joked, laughing as he pulled you into his chest.

You couldn’t stop your giggles if you tried, “I can’t do shit in this house.”

“You can do me.”

“Hongjoong.”

He laughed, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Stay tonight?”

“You physically won’t let me move.”

He scoffed looking down at you, “You couldn’t use your legs right now if you tried.”

You squinted at him before nodding, “You make a solid argument. I’ll stay.”

He laughed in response reaching to grab a blanket from the side of the couch before throwing over the two of you. “We can move to the bedroom in a minute, I just- want to stay like this a little longer.” he confessed, idly drawing shapes into your back as you shut your eyes. Your head against his chest.

His heart was racing. You knew it was probably due to your previous activities but a small part hoped it was from just being with you.

Your heart did the same whenever you were with him, but you’d never admit it. At least not sober. Or unless he had admitted it first.

“Where is everyone?” you heard a voice speak, your eyes shooting open as you flipped your head to face the stairs.

A muscular man stood at the bottom of them, rubbing his eyes with a yawn.

“San, what are you doing here?” Hongjoong laughed in shock, his expression matching yours.

He opened an eye to him, pointing a thumb behind him, “You guys put me to bed.”

“Wooyoung said you weren’t in there.” You shook your head with a smile.

San scratched the back of his neck with an embarrassed chuckle, “I fell off the bed. I was on the floor.”

You nodded, it didn’t surprise you that he didn’t think to actually look in the room.

San scanned you both over with a small smile, his eyes shutting in contentment. “You guys look comfy. Mind if I join?” he started to move forward before you both protested at the same time. Shouting rejections as you processed exactly what was happening under the blanket.

It wouldn’t be the first time one of the guys had caught you two in a compromising position, but it was an instance where you could stop them from seeing anything that might traumatize them.

San stopped abruptly, pouting as his shoulders fell. “I’m going back to bed.” he stated in a defeated tone, spinning on his heel back towards the stairs.

“Go home!” Hongjoong shouted after him as he was already in the process of ascending to the spare rooms. San waved him off as he disappeared from sight.

The two of you sat there, your laughter slowing to contented silence.

You stacked your hands on top of one another at the center of Hongjoong’s chest, your chin resting on the both as you looked up at him.

He glanced at you, "It'd be wrong to go again, right? Now that we know he’s here.”

“It is your house.” you tempted, smirking at him as he gripped you tighter.

His eyes went wide but you felt his dick move in response, “I was fucking joking.”

You boo’d him loudly, raising a hand to give him a thumbs down before he playfully smacked it away.

He pulled you down to rest against his chest, his chin sitting in your hair. “You’re crazy.”

“You like me because I’m crazy.”

He let out a soft laugh, kissing into your crown. “Yeah, I really do.”

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you shake your head. “nope.” you shrug and pick up your phone again and start to scroll through your settings apps. “but it’s not a big deal, really, it’s just another thing to cross off the bucket list.”

seonghwa snorts and peeks over to snoop at your phone, to which you angle it away from him with an annoyed scowl. “i think it may be a little more serious than that.”

you type gibberish into the search bar. "why does it have to be serious, hwa? it's just sex."

its seonghwa's turn to scoff this time, and he pinches the skin of your calf, you swat at him with your free hand. but he does it again, and you bite out an irritated "quit it" as he starts to speak again.

"thats a bad mindset to have, y'know that right?" he lowers his voice to that annoying, mothering tone he uses with you when he thinks you're being stupid. "it should never be "just sex."

"okay yeah, but you can't be so picky and choosy all the time. i'm sure ill get with some guy and when he figures it out, he'll work with me or whatever. teach me or something." you speak of it fleetingly, like it was nothing more than a pesky errand.

seonghwa snatches your phone from you and shoves it into the couch cushions, and you sigh loudly.

"some guy?" he questions with a raise of his eyebrow. you move to fish your phone out of the couch, but he reaches out and gently grabs your wrist, encasing it in his slender fingers and rubbing his thumb over your thrumming pulse point.

"why not me?" he speaks lowly, and you snap your eyes up to his. he stares back at you with an intensity that settles low in your gut. his thumb stroked over your inner wrist slowly, and his other hand twitched at his side on the couch.

the air went thick, the quiet of his living room felt encased in a bubble, and the warmth of his skin suddenly burned.

he sees it. your thighs clenching beneath your body, the conflict flashing over your eyes, your free hand digging its nails into the cushion.

when you don't respond, he lets his eyes fall to where his hand held your wrist, watching with illustrated intent as he traces patterns against the fragile skin.

"i could show you, i've always been told i'm a good teacher." seonghwa tickles the skin of your palm with gentle scratches of his nails.

"thats what friends are for, yeah?" he lifts his pretty eyes back up to you, and something else has shadowed over them, and you feel something inside of you crack. you're aware of the way veins in his hands flow prettily under his skin.

the way his collarbones peak through the thin fabric of his shirt. the slick shine on his bottom lip where he licked to wet it. his tongue poked against his inner cheek and his eyebrows raised again to urge an answer out of you.

"c'mon pretty, don't leave me hanging." his voice is softer than usual, a new tone lacing it you've never heard from your best friend, something heated, something needy.

if deciding to have your best friend teach you how to ride dick was a bad idea, then you could mull on it later. because it wasn't long until he was sitting under you on the couch, legs spread nice and wide, his hands pressing into your hips where he held your body above him.

you straddled him, your thighs resting on either side of his, your knees pressed into the rough fabric of the couch cushions. your hands gripped his shoulders, your nails digging into the flesh of the blades.

he looks up at you through his lashes, as if you were a gift from god himself, his eyebrows knit together so prettily. "its fun up there, huh?" he smiles, dragging his warm hands up your thighs, holding you like you might melt and slip through his fingers.

you could barely keep yourself together; he was so deep inside of you. your thighs shook around him, his tip nudging against that spot so sweet and so dirty. his fingers kneaded the flesh of your hips, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth with a quiet moan when he felt your cunt clench around him.

"it helps that you're, ah… so wet…" his voice cracks lightly, his cock twitching inside of you and sending a jolt of pleasure up your spine.

you shiver and grip his shoulders a little harder, and you begin to lift your hips, but his grip on them tightens, and he pushes you right back down until your ass hits his thighs again, and you groan nice and low as he fills you all the way up again.

"no-no-no-no-no, baby, stop. don't lift." he presses his lips to your collarbone and kisses you there softly, running his tongue over the skin warmly. one hand leaves your hip and runs over your waist before he presses his palm flat against your lower back and pushes until you arch a little.

just enough that he somehow slips deeper into you, and you let out a weak whine when his fat tip presses ever harder against that spot.

"grind." he instructs in a gravelly, soft moan. "rock your hips, back and forth. it'll help me hit that spot for you."

you shake and whimper under your breath, but you obey. you gently move your hips forward, and the feeling is immediate, his cock drags against your soft walls just enough that it feels like pure heaven.

you move your hands and card them through the hair at the back of his head, cradling his skull in your arms as you hide your face in the crook of his neck, moaning softly against his skin as you rock your hips, nice and slow.

it helps that he's so big, each roll of your lower body has him slipping in and out of you just enough to stimulate you, but not enough to where you can consider him fucking you. his tip dragging against that spot like a constant button, your legs shaking uncontrollaby and your whine brushing past his ear like a song.

your clit lightly brushes against his abs, where his shirt has ridden up over his lower stomach. he keeps his hand on your lower back, keeping you arched all the while his other hand stays glued to your hips, pushing and pulling on your lower body, helping you grind his cock into your body.

"there, how's that feel, baby? good?" he whispers in your ear, kissing just below your earlobe as he helps you rock your body around his cock.

you nod against his neck, gripping his soft, dark hair harder and choking out a moan when he teases you with a heavy lift of his hips. then you feel as he encases your hips with both his hands again, and gently he lifts your body ever so slightly.

you squeeze his head even harder, seonghwa's soft moans shaking in his throat as he lifts and pushes your cunt back down on his cock in slow, deep intervals. "don't stop rocking those hips, keep fucking me like you want. grind, deep, slow…"

he guides you perfectly, each time he lifts your hips himself it makes you clench around him harder. you start to feel a little desperate, and your hips start to move a little faster, rocking with a little more rhythm, but seonghwa didn't like that.

one hand finds the back of your neck and grabs it firmly, pulling your head away from his shoulder and pressing your forehead to his. suddenly all you can see is his eyes, and it overwhelms you to the point of tears. you whine pathetically when he thrusts his cock up into your pussy so sharply that a drop of drool falls from your lips onto his chest.

"easy…" he grumbles against your lips, his breath fanning over your face in low, heavy pants. "slow down pretty, no need to rush." his nails dig into the back of your neck, and you shiver when he starts to grind his own hips up into you, so deep it has your stomach caving.

"if i wanted you pounded into the floor i would've put you on your back, but i'm teaching you sweetness. listen to me." his eyes fall low-lidded as you resume your slow grinding, and his mouth falls open in a pretty moan when you tighten around him, the sound of your slickness loud in your ears.

"it's your dick right now, baby, use it. do what feels good, but don't lose your head." he keeps up the torturous movement of his hips, a choreographed grind that makes his stomach roll prettily.

he doesn't let you look away, forcing you to lock in on his needy gaze while he keeps you filled up with him, nudging every deep spot, every nook and cranny of your pussy. there wasn't a single space inside of you that remained untouched.

"s, t-too, mm-" you tried to talk, try to tell him how good you were feeling but it came out in slurred babbles, and he laughed at you. his warm breath shudders over your parted lip,s and he nudges his head up, melding his soft lips with yours and kissing you deep and nasty.

his tongue fills your mouth with a purr, curling and essentially fucking your mouth with it. "it's a lot i know…" he whispers into your mouth, interrupting the kiss with a low moan when you clench so hard around him it makes his entire body fuzzy.

he sucks your bottom lip into his mouth, letting go with a wet pop and pressing your hips down so hard onto his cock you thought if you looked down you'd see his tip poking through the flesh of your stomach.

"wouldn't have felt like this with anyone else, baby." seonghwa nips at the corner of your mouth, dropping his head to run his warm tongue flat up the front of your throat. "feel how wet you are? no other man will be able to make you feel this good."

his eyes lift as he sucks marks of possession into the skin of your neck, and when he sees a tear slipping down your cheek, he growls low in his throat and jerks his cock up into you rough and deep, and you yelp as the bliss shoots through you.

"oh no, don't cry. it makes me wanna be mean to you, makes me wanna fuck you til it feels wrong when i'm not inside you."

now he wraps his hands around your throat, pressing his thumbs against those soft spots that melt your brain, his eyes darting all over your pretty little blissed out face, his lips brushing against your in a ghost of a kiss.

"now lift, drop, and roll. fuck me, bunny. its yours, use this cock until you're satisfied. make yourself cum for me."

you coudln't disobey if you tried, working your body and focusing on that rapidly tightening knot in your stomach as you fuck yourself on seonghwa's dick, every delicious drag inside of you forcing your eyes to roll to the back of your head.

he doesn't bother to chastise you for breaking eye contact; he knows you're too lost in it to control yourself. he squeezes your throat tighter, your moans coming choked and broken. seonghwa helps push you over that edge, groaning and purring prettily for you, lifting his hips to match your desperate movements.

"i feel you baby, pussy feels so good around me. so warm, so tight." he lifts his head to press his lips to the shell of your hot ears, moaning and sighing as you ride him to high heaven. your head feels fuzzy with the lack of air, seonghwa making sure that the only thing you could think about was his dick working you out.

“cum as much as you need,” he coos in your ear his voice low and breathless, sinking his teeth into the soft lobe. “ride me, bunny, ride me.”

you absolutely lose it, slamming your hips down onto his dick and shattering, dribbling drool in rivers as you cum. he squeezed your throat in pulsing intervals, giving you air, then snatching it from you, rolling his hips up into your cunt and dragging every drop of your orgasm out of your body.

"oh god…fuck." he grumbles in his throat, overwhelmed by how pretty you looked on top of him, blissed out over your warm, gummy pussy squeezing him so tight he almost came inside of you. "such a quick learner, baby."

he drags his hands away from your throat, cradling your head, smearing your drool all over your cheeks with his thumbs, your face hazy and drunk while he rocks his hips into you in painfully slow, high off the way you shake and whimper, your slick sticking to his thighs and his lower stomach, a messy proof of his effect on you.

"did so good beautiful, yes you did." he praises, and yet his hips never stop moving. rolling, grinding, upwards strokes that make you feel helpless, regardless of the fact that he was beneath you.

"think you can give me another one? lesson's not over yet." he bites out, grabbing your arms and dragging your body down so your forehead rests over his shoulder. then he grips your hips, lifts your body up, and shimmies his hips down just enough so he can plant his feet flat on the floor, before he starts to fuck.

hard, deep, powerful thrusts up into your overstimulated cunt that has your moans coming out in staccato chokes.

"you did your w-work, now let me use this pussy." he groans through gritted teeth, and you feel your body erupt into flames the more he moves. making you feel every inch of him, each thrust touching your brain. making you feel so good.

is that not what friends are for?

part 1: texting chapter

part 2: texting chapter

part 3: texting chapter

part 4: texting chapter

part 5: teasing

part 6: texting chapter

part 7: smoke sesh

part 8: texting chapter

part 9: texting chapter

part 10: dying hj’s hair

part 11: goofy hangout

part 12: dirty girl

part 13: morning after

part 14: texting chapter

part 15: been like this

part 16: conflicted

part 17: two best friends

part 18: 1/2: texting chapter

part 18: 2/2

part 19: afraid

part 20: i’m in love with her

part 21: still beating

part 22: almost

In a dark room full of men in expensive suits, sharp and undeniably charming faces, a projector is showing information about their next prey, someone who will make them wealthier, heck, maybe rank their gang up.

"Ahn Y/N, our treasure."

Standing in front of the humongous table is Kim Hongjoong, captain of the Hala Clan, stating their next mission. He has been told that Seojun will be marrying you, the precious daughter of the Ahn Clan. Hala and Seojun have a bad history.

A few years ago, Hongjoong and Seojun were actually allies. Their clans worked together on a major operation that could have made both organizations extremely powerful. Hongjoong trusted Seojun completely and even considered him a friend.

During the operation, however, Seojun secretly sold information to a rival organization. When everything went wrong, Hongjoong's men were ambushed.

The worst part? Hongjoong's older brother was killed because of the information leak.

Seojun escaped unharmed because he was the one who orchestrated it. Everyone believed the rival organization was responsible, but Hongjoong eventually discovered the truth.

Since then, revenge has become personal.

His plan is simple. Track Y/N's routine, kidnap her at the right designated time, hold her hostage for some countable days, just enough time to make Seojun realize her disappearance, make some calls and threats, lure Seojun into his trap, get his revenge, and maybe steal from him. Easy work, or so he thought.

.✦ ݁˖.✦ ݁˖.✦ ݁˖

The day of your marriage is near, you could count the days. Each day passes, and you've been stressed, locking yourself in your room, trying to figure out how to get out of this shitty condition of yours.

You don't live with your family, you have a penthouse on the outskirts of Seoul, living by yourself. Being in the same ground with your father made you feel like trash, sure, you obey him and all, but that doesn't mean you like him.

You just finished your shower, and your white robe tightly wraps your body as you make your way to the balcony. Cigarette in between your lips as smoke flies away with the wind of the night. You were deep in your own thoughts, completely dissociating from the world. You think about your mother, about the things Seojun will do to her. Just thinking about it made your blood boil, you truly despise that man.

The door leading to your bedroom is widely open behind you, the white dress they have prepared for you can be seen from your peripheral view, and you're sick of it. Sometimes you just want to burn it and throw the ashes at Seojun, or throw it from the balcony and have someone pick it up or something, so you wouldn’t have to be reminded of the marriage every time you see it.

You were about to take another cigarette from the pack until you heard something from outside your room. It's not something loud, it's something that an untrained ear would miss. Your instinct immediately kicked in telling you that there is someone in the house, you carefully went back to the bathroom to wear something, then swiftly grabbing a gun and a knife underneath the sink, you strapped the knife to you thighs and covered it with your clothes.

You make your way silently to the door, your ear pressed to the wood to listen for something, anything.

You open the door after hearing nothing, carefully twisting the knob, revealing the dark hallway leading to the center of the penthouse. The only source of light is from the moon, illuminating the hallway, making it unnecessarily creepy. You're moving like a feather, no sound can be heard each time you step on the ceramic floor. As you reached the living room, you were once again greeted by the dark.

"Fuck why did I leave every light off?" You curse under your breath.

You had left your phone somewhere in the bedroom, and you're not risking your life by turning on the lights. So when you feel like there's no one in the living room, you silently make your way back to the bedroom with your gun steady in your hand, pointing to every corner in the house. Once you get there, you close the door and lock it. You immediately went to search for your phone somewhere in the mess of your bed.

"shit, where is it?!" You curse as you silently and carefully dive into the mess, looking for your phone.

You were fully invested in looking for your phone to realize that the door to the balcony was widely open, the wind blowing from outside made you shiver, making you hyper aware of the balcony. And that's when you heard it, something, or rather someone, landed on the balcony. It was too dark to see, only a silhouette could be seen standing under the moonlight, his clothes swaying from the winds blowing. You immediately pointed your gun at the silhouette of someone standing tall on the balcony. The moon behind him made him look eerie.

That silhouette make his way slowly to you.

"Don't move," you command. But he doesn’t listen and keeps moving carefully towards you.

You don’t want to shoot anyone, so you quickly make your way out of the bedroom. Your instinct told you that he is not alone, someone else is in the house.

You went to another room that is connected to another balcony. Your initial plan is to jump and land on top of a roof or something, then make your escape. But once you open the door leading to the balcony, no roofs are in sight, you immediately go back inside and go to another room.

You open the door quietly, once again meeting with the dark, praying nobody is in this room. You enter the room carefully, listening for any movements of breathing, until something cold touches your temple. You know very well what it is, you didn’t dare to make a move.

"Don’t move. Put your gun down." A heavy voice said.

You did what he told you to, you carefully put your gun down on the floor, and put your hands up. That man grabbed the back of your clothes and led you forcefully to the living room, where three other men were waiting. This time you could see them clearly, they were wearing black suits and shining silver watches, looks expensive.

They eyed you up and down, like some wolves eyeing their prey.

"What do you want from me?" You asked, eyes glaring at them, trying not to show any weakness. They didn’t answer you, they only keep glaring at you as if you’re going to jump at them out of nowhere.

One of the men comes up to you with a rope in his hand to tie your hands. But they didn’t know a knife was still strapped securely on your thighs, hidden by your oversized tee.

Just before he could tie your hand, you grabbed the gun pointed at you and kicked the man in front of you, immediately catching him off guard and fell down. With super speed, you pinned his hands with your feet, making a cringe crunch sound. You then grabbed the man beside you and pointed your knife dangerously close to his throat as your other hand pointed the gun at the other two.

"Answer me, what do you want from me?!" You repeated. As you press your knife to the man’s throat, resulting in some blood drips down from his neck to your hand.

You could see the panic on the other two faces, trying to figure out what to do, and it seems like they didn’t expect you to fight back, they were super wrong.

"Fuck. Okay, calm down." One of them said, trying to make up some words, or ways to tackle you down, probably.

You eyed them one by one, trying to figure out who they are, and who they work for. You scanned their suits, carefully searching for something, a clue perhaps, to whoever they are. Until something small and shiny caught your attention, a pin on their collar, with an ‘A’ logo, that's when you realize they are the Hala.

"Hala… I see what you’re trying to do."

You knew the history between Seojun and Hala, and you figured that they are here to kidnap you and lure Seojun to give him their revenge. And for once you thought maybe being kidnapped is actually not bad, considering Seojun will have a hard time.

But your thought immediately drifted to your mother, if you played along and let them kidnap you, you couldn’t imagine the things Seojun would do to her.

You were deep in thought while still keeping your eyes on them, but you didn’t realize that the man you’re pinning with your feet right now is making a move, biting your calf. You jolted at the sudden pain and lost balance, which made the man you’re holding take advantage of it and turn the tables. You are now the one with a knife to your throat. You gripped his arms tightly, trying to break free, but he was too strong. The other men also regained their composure. The gun you dropped is now theirs again. You have to figure out something smart and quick, that's when a plan comes up in your mind.

"Okay, listen, I know your plan is to take revenge on Seojun. Look, I hate him too, even more than you guys do." You said steadily, eyes scanning for their reaction.

"What if we work together? I can help you guys get your revenge, or even better, kill him. I’ll even pay you guys as much as you want to get rid of that bastard." You try to persuade.

They look at one another, probably considering your offer.

"Well, we still have to take you to our captain, try to persuade him with your offer when we get there," the one holding you said. He dragged your body and make their way out to the car. At this point, you’re giving up on trying to break free already, due to their strong grip.

"Could you at least be less forceful or something? I’m literally coming with you guys of my own will." You protest.

"Shut up and get in already." He said as he shoved you inside the car.

.✦ ݁˖.✦ ݁˖.✦ ݁˖

The drive to their base was long, of course, since you lived on the outskirts of town. You also had learned their names as they were yelling and blaming each other while you tried to have a peaceful drive. Mingi, the one who eerily walks to you from your balcony, and the one who is driving right now. San, the one you kicked and bit your calf. Wooyoung and Yeosang, who basically did nothing. Your hands are tied now since they don't trust you

After some time, the car stopped in front of a gigantic rusty gate. A security guard comes up to the driver's window to check the car, and once he sees Mingi, he immediately opens the gate to let the car through. After the gate is a humongous mansion looking deliberately haunted for some reason, but actually, you're not that surprised, the mansion totally screams Hala for sure. Once Mingi stopped the car right in front of the entrance, Wooyoung grabbed you and pulled you out of the car.

"Dude, you need to chill. I'm not going anywhere. Geez." You once again protest. The way they keep pushing and pulling you really piss you off, you're literally coming either way.

They all led you through the hallway, making turns until you spot a big wooden door, perhaps the captain's room, you thought. Once you get inside, you are greeted with four other people, and one of them has this vibe that screams leader; his hair is slicked back, shoulder broad, and his suit is spotless. The way he stands is just very intimidating, and the smile on his face seems smug.

He makes his way to you, striding graciously toward you. You're not going to lie, he is one of the best sights you've ever seen, and you couldn't help but stare at him.

"Ah, Miss Y/N?" He purred, his voice sounded like the sweetest honey that can kill you slowly.

You were too mesmerized to even form a word and reply to him. Your eyes are stripping him slowly, taking every detail of him into your memory.

He chuckled, sounding majestic for some reason, it hypnotized you further away from reality. As he comes even closer to you, you can feel your heart beating hard under your skin, trying to escape your body and jump right into his hands.

"I have been informed that you have a great deal to give me. Could you emphasize?" He asked, as he stopped right in front of you, eyes searching yours, eager for an answer.

The proximity made you realize the situation you're in right now. You immediately regained your composure and cleared your throat, opening and closing your mouth, trying to find the right word.

"I know your history. You're trying to take revenge on Seojun, Right? And I'm sure my role here is as a trap, luring him into your cage." You explain, voice trying to sound steady and confident.

"So I have an offer. We work together, you hate him, and so do I. I don't want to be married to a cocky prick and trapped with him my whole life, I'd rather die."You continued.

"Hmm... I see. But aside from getting my revenge on him, what do I get? You get to be free from him and all, but me? Only a revenge wouldn't be fair, isn't it?" He emitted.

"I'll pay you as much as you want. I want him erased from this world if you will." You added.

His expression shows that he is intrigued by your offer, and your hope increases as you search his eyes looking for answers.

"Okay, can you fight?" He asked, tilting his head like a puppy's first time hearing foreign sounds. Gosh, how is this man the captain of Hala? You thought it was going to be someone super big and scary-looking. But instead, you are met with a charming and super handsome looking man.

"I... Know how to throw punches?" You mumbled.

He laughed at your reply. " Yeah, no. I want you to participate in taking him down, and throwing punches won't help, darling. You'll need some more training." He beamed.

"We need to take him down fast! He's going to hurt my mother, and the wedding is in literally less than two weeks." You fumed.

"Oh, don't worry. I guarantee your mother's safety. My men will take care of her. While we get ready to take that son of a bitch down." He smiled, the way he said we feels like he's flirting with you, especially with that face of him.

He later introduced his name as you guys make plans to take down Seojun. Kim Hongjoong, his name matches him really well. He took you all into a meeting room, getting straight to making plans.

Hongjoong doesn't play around when it comes to Seojun. In fact, he does not play around with anything. You've learned that he takes everything seriously, and he probably has anger issues or something, because throughout the meeting, he would yell at his men, mostly Wooyoung, because he plays too much. But one thing is for sure, he's undeniably scary when he's angry, and somehow, you found it super hot.

After some time discussing the best plan, you all finally agreed on this plan

You will not be held hostage by him, which is a great thing because being hostage is not fun at all. You will be his eyes, since you get to be around Seojun a lot, and then give important information to Hongjoong so he can tell the others about their parts. Some of them will keep an eye on your mother, ensuring her safety. And the rest, will back you and Hongjoong up when taking him down.

The plan is that you will be acting like nothing happened and bear being with Seojun until the day of the wedding, and at the ceremony, Hongjoong, and all of the rest will move and execute. It needs to be silent, and you will be acting shocked when Seojun gets shot. And just in case things go south, you will be joining the battlefield. Hongjoong had given you a super thin knife that can be hidden in your dress, and you will fight using that.

.✦ ݁˖.✦ ݁˖.✦ ݁˖

It has been almost a week since you got 'kidnapped' by them, and since that day, you have been closer to basically everyone in the mansion.

There's Hongjoong, Captain of Hala. He carried himself like a king who had built his throne from blood and ambition. He wasn't the tallest man in the room, nor the most physically intimidating, yet every head turned when he entered. His sharp eyes seemed capable of dissecting a person within seconds, always calculating, always planning. Neatly styled hair framed a face that was unfairly handsome for someone so dangerous.

There was elegance in everything he did, from the way he adjusted his cufflinks to the way he delivered threats with a smile.

Most people feared his anger. You feared how calm he became when he was angry.

Seonghwa, Hongjoong's right hand. Seonghwa looked more like a luxury magazine model than a criminal. His appearance was always immaculate; not a single wrinkle dared touch his suit, and his dark hair remained perfectly styled no matter the situation.

His gentle smile often fooled strangers into believing he was harmless. They usually learned otherwise.

While Hongjoong was the storm, Seonghwa was the silence before it. His voice rarely rose above a calm tone, but when it did, even seasoned members straightened immediately.

Yunho, the trainer. He was impossible to miss. Towering over nearly everyone, his broad shoulders and long limbs made him look intimidating from afar. Yet the moment he smiled, every ounce of danger disappeared.

His laughter came easily, loud and genuine, often filling entire hallways. You quickly learned that beneath his friendly personality was a terrifying fighter capable of dropping a man twice his size without breaking a sweat.

Yunho was proof that kindness and strength could exist in the same person. You would come over a lot, for training or to evaluate plans, and sometimes you would help with some errands. It feels like you're one of them already.

Yeosang, the Sniper. He had the unsettling habit of appearing out of nowhere. One moment a room would be empty. The next, he'd be standing in the corner silently observing.

His sharp features and calm demeanor made him seem almost detached from the world around him. He spoke only when necessary, and every word felt deliberate.

Unlike the others, Yeosang never wasted energy. Never wasted movement. Never wasted bullets. His unreadable expression often made people uncomfortable. Which he secretly enjoyed.

San, the Enforcer. He looked dangerous. There was no better way to describe him.

Everything about him radiated intensity—from the sharpness of his gaze to the way his jaw clenched whenever he was annoyed. His emotions sat close to the surface, making him explosive and unpredictable. Despite his reputation as Hala's attack dog, those closest to him knew his anger stemmed from fierce loyalty. If San cared about someone, he would walk through hell for them.

If he hated someone, he'd happily drag them there himself.

Mingi, the Driver and Weapons expert. He was chaos disguised as a human being.Tall and impossibly energetic, he moved through life as if consequences simply didn't apply to him. His loud voice echoed through every room he entered, usually followed by someone yelling at him to shut up.

His playful nature made him seem careless.That assumption usually lasted until people saw him behind the wheel.Or holding a gun. Then they understood why he was one of Hala's most trusted members.

Wooyoung, the Infiltration Specialist. He was trouble. The kind of trouble that smiled beautifully before ruining your entire day.

He possessed an almost supernatural ability to get under people's skin within minutes of meeting them. Charming, flirtatious, and endlessly dramatic, he thrived on creating chaos for his own entertainment.

Nobody could ever tell when he was joking. Sometimes not even Wooyoung himself. Behind the constant teasing, however, was someone exceptionally observant.

He noticed everything. And forgot nothing.

And there's Jongho, the Medic. Jongho was perhaps the most terrifying member of Hala.

Not because he was loud. Not because he was aggressive. But because he wasn't. His quiet demeanor often made people underestimate him.

A mistake.

Beneath his calm exterior hid strength that bordered on ridiculous. You once watched him lift a grown man as if he weighed nothing. Jongho preferred actions over words. If he cared about you, he'd patch your wounds, bring you food, and make sure you survived.

If he didn't... You'd know.

Today, you came by the base because Yunho told you to come train and box with him. As you make your way down the training ground, you can hear someone punching the punching bag. You thought it was Yunho, after all, he is the one who asked you to come. But once you make it there, you are met with Hongjoong instead.

Sweat runs down from his temple to his chin as he keeps punching the bag. The black tank top he wears reveals his big, sturdy biceps glistening with sweat. His hair is tousled from running his hand through it. It was truly a sight.

You didn't realize that you're literally frozen in place, eyes obviously striping the man in front of you, until his voice disturbs your day dreaming.

"You like what you see?" He chimed as he made his way to you, running his hand through his hair with a smirk plastered smugly on his face.

"Huh, no. Where's Yunho?" You tried to change the topic, trying to hide how flustered you are by averting your eyes, searching for the said man that is nowhere to be found in the training ground.

"He's not here. I've sent him to do some errands, important ones. So you'll be training with me today." He cheered. You couldn't help but think he purposely sent Yunho out so he could train with you.

"Hmm, that's suspicious, but I'll let it slide." you replied as you stretched, getting ready to train for today.

The two of you walk into the ring, preparing to fight each other.

You strike first, throwing a fake punch to his head, and then kick the side of his body. You thought you could trick him, but he is way faster than you thought. He immediately grabs your foot and pulls it, making you lose your balance and fall on your back.

"Fuck, that hurts." You agonized, rubbing the back of your head as you tried getting up. Hongjoong only chuckled and repositioned his body. You did the same thing. This time, you wait for him to strike first, trying to read his movement.

He raised his foot to kick you, but you thought it was a fake one, so you shielded your head instead. But Hongjoong is way ahead of you, it was actually not a fake. He actually kicked you, sending you to the side of the ring. Oh, you are fuming, and he could see it.

"C'mon, is that all you got Y/N?" He trilled.

That question made you rage. You got up and immediately launched at him, straddling him down. Just as you were about to throw a fist at his face, he pulled you and changed position. He is now on top of you, and both of your hands are locked above your head.

You groaned in annoyance. Hongjoong, on the other hand, seems to enjoy this, he is grinning like he got the best reward ever.

Once you realize the position you're in right now is very questionable, if someone suddenly walks in on you guys. You got flustered when realizing that your face is inches away from his. Upon realizing you're flustered, Hongjoong leans even closer, and your noses are touching already. You were frozen, too afraid to breathe and move at all.

"You need more training darling." Hongjoong whispered, and you could feel his breath brushing your face. Then he got up, grabbing his towel to wipe away the sweat like nothing had happened. While you lay motionless on the ground, heart beating too fast, mind hazy. You could still feel his touch lingering on your skin.

.✦ ݁˖.✦ ݁˖.✦ ݁˖

Seojun was not a man who ignored details. In his line of work, overlooking the smallest inconsistency often meant a bullet between the eyes. It was why your recent behavior bothered him more than he cared to admit.

A week ago, you had looked like a trapped animal whenever he was around, tense shoulders, sharp tongue, eyes filled with nothing but resentment. Yet lately, something had changed.

You were still rude. Still stubborn. Still looked at him as if you wanted to shove him off a cliff.

But there was something different beneath it all.

Hope.

It was subtle enough that nobody else would notice. A slight ease in your posture. The way your gaze no longer seemed permanently exhausted. The way you occasionally disappeared into your own thoughts and returned with the faintest hint of satisfaction hidden behind your expression.

Seojun noticed. And Seojun hated things he couldn't explain. The first report landed on his desk three days later.

"Miss Ahn has been leaving her penthouse more frequently." Seojun skimmed the paper without much interest.

"So?"The man standing before him shifted nervously.

"She visits the western district several times a week." That made Seojun pause. The western district.

Hala territory.

His fingers stopped tapping against the desk. "Continue."

"We followed her as far as we could, sir, but she kept disappearing. We couldn't determine who she was meeting." Silence settled across the office. The man lowered his head, awaiting punishment for the incomplete report.

Instead, Seojun leaned back in his chair.

Interesting. Very interesting.

The following week, more reports arrived. You were spending less time at your penthouse. Your schedule had become unpredictable. You often turned off your phone for hours at a time. And every trail somehow led back toward territory controlled by Hala.

Coincidences existed. Seojun simply didn't believe in them. That evening, he watched you from across the dinner table. You sat comfortably in your chair, scrolling through your phone while pretending not to acknowledge his presence.

For a brief moment, the corner of your lips twitched upward.

A smile. Small. Gone within seconds. But he saw it.

His gaze darkened.

"Something amusing?" Your head immediately snapped up.

"What?" You questioned.

"You seem happier lately." He stated.

Your smile vanished. A flicker of alarm crossed your face before you recovered. "No idea what you're talking about."

Seojun hummed thoughtfully. Maybe you truly believed you were hiding it well. Maybe you thought he wasn't paying attention. The realization almost made him laugh.

You had spent so many years around criminals that you should have known better.

Everyone lied. Everyone betrayed. Everyone hid secrets. And Seojun had built his entire life around finding them.

As you returned your attention to your phone, unaware of the eyes studying your every movement, he silently made a decision.

Double the surveillance. Track every route. Monitor every contact. Because one thing was becoming painfully clear. You were hiding something.

And Seojun intended to find out exactly what it was.

.✦ ݁˖.✦ ݁˖.✦ ݁˖

As the wedding day approached, everything seemed to be falling perfectly into place, almost too perfectly. The morning of the ceremony, Hongjoong received an urgent report from Yeosang.

Something felt off. There were more guards than expected, unfamiliar faces lingering around the venue, and security routes that had been changed without explanation. Trusting his instincts, Hongjoong stepped away to investigate, leaving the others to proceed as planned.

What was supposed to be a quick check turned into a chilling realization, Seojun wasn't walking into their trap. He had already discovered it. By the time Hongjoong rushed back toward the ceremony, his heart pounding with dread, it was already too late.

On the other hand, Mingi notices another sniper aiming at him. If he shoots first, He dies. The mission collapses.

He hesitates for one second. And that's all Seojun needs.

.✦ ݁˖.✦ ݁˖.✦ ݁˖

You were walking down the aisle, your mind drifting somewhere in your own world, when you suddenly heard a gunshot. You look at Seojun, who is standing in front of you, he is holding a gun, pointing it at you. That's when you feel it, something warm oozing from your abdomen, your white dress is stained with red. Seojun had shot you.

The air in your lungs emptied suddenly, and the striking pain from your abdomen made it worse. You fell down, clutching your abdomen, trying to grasp oxygen to your lungs, and you can see black dots in your eyes. You're slowly fading away.

"Did you really think I wouldn't notice?" Seojun said. He has kneeled down to talk to you, tracing your face with his fingers. Silently mocking you with his smug and cocky face.

That's when you realize, he knew all this time. Of course, he knew, how could you be so stupid? Why did you underestimate him?

Your mind was scrambled, you thought about Hongjoong, where is he? Has Mingi been caught? Why didn't he snipe Seojun?. Did your mother see you get shot? Is she safe? You question everything, you didn't even care about that prick kneeling over you, saying bullshit, you don't even care.

Your ears are ringing, the sound of your surrounding slowing fading away, replaced by the intense ringing. And all you can see is Seojun's face, mumbling words you can't make out anymore. At this point, you've given up, thinking this is probably your shitty fate, dying in the hands of the most notorious prick ever lived.

That's when you saw a ginger haired angel, standing behind Satan himself. Hongjoong swifly slits his throat, finishing him thoroughly. It is the end for Seojun, and perhaps, for you too. Your consciousness is fading away.

You feel Hongjoong lift you up, holding you like you might break if he moves erratically. You can see the tears and panic in his eyes, his mouth moving like he's trying to say something to you as he runs as fast and gently as he can.

Then you hear him, faintly. His voice sounded sad, broken.

"Stay with me Y/N, please. keep your eyes open for me, darling. I've got you." He pleaded.

He took you in a car, and everyone is there. You can see Mingi's hair on the driver's seat. He's driving us somewhere. Then you feel Jongho's warm hand on your stomach, putting some pressure on it, probably to stop the bleeding. It hurts like hell, but you're too tired to even react. It feels like you're losing the ability to move your body.

Then, the dark finally consumes you. You couldn't hear Hongjoong's voice, no more pain in your abdomen. Nothing.

.✦ ݁˖.✦ ݁˖.✦ ݁˖

The first thing you heard was the steady beeping beside your bed. Then came the ache.

A dull, burning pain spread across your abdomen, making you wince before your eyes had even opened. Your body felt heavy, like someone had poured concrete into your veins.

You slowly blinked against the bright hospital lights. The room was quiet. Too quiet.

Your gaze wandered around until it landed on a figure slumped beside your bed.

Hongjoong.

His head rested on folded arms near your hand, his ginger hair messier than you had ever seen it. Dark circles sat beneath his eyes. His suit jacket had long been discarded, his shirt wrinkled and sleeves rolled up carelessly.

For a moment, you simply stared. The mighty captain of Hala looked exhausted. Broken, almost.

You shifted slightly. The movement was enough. Hongjoong's head immediately shot up. For a second, he simply stared at you like he wasn't sure if you were real.

Then his chair screeched against the floor.

"Doctor!" he shouted, standing so quickly he nearly knocked it over. "Get the doctor-"

"Joong." Your voice came out weak, raspy. But it stopped him instantly.

His entire body froze. Slowly, he turned back around. The look in his eyes made your chest tighten.

Relief. Disbelief. Fear. All mixed together.

"You're awake," he whispered.

You offered a small smile. "That's usually how surviving works."

The joke was terrible. Yet Hongjoong let out something between a laugh and a sob. He sat back down immediately, reaching for your hand as if afraid you would disappear again.

His grip was warm. Tight and desperate.

You frowned. "How long?"

"Four days."

Your eyes widened. "Four-"

"You weren't waking up." His voice cracked. The words hit harder than they should have.

You stared at him. Really stared. The man before you looked like he hadn't slept properly in days. His eyes were bloodshot. His hair was a mess. Even his hands trembled. Hongjoong was trembling.

"I thought..." He swallowed hard. "I thought I lost you."

Silence settled between you. Heavy. Painful. You squeezed his hand. His jaw tightened immediately.

"I should've known," he continued quietly. "The extra guards. The changes in security. The missing routes. The signs were there."

"Joong-"

"I was arrogant."

His eyes finally met yours. For the first time since meeting him, he looked completely vulnerable.

"I thought I was smarter than him." The confession sounded bitter. Like poison.

"I brought you into this."

"You didn't force me."

"I should've protected you."

"You did."

His head shook immediately. "No." His voice cracked again.

"I promised you."

The room fell silent. Hongjoong lowered his head, staring at your joined hands.

"I heard your heartbeat stop." The words barely rose above a whisper. Yet they shattered something inside you.

"I heard the machine go flat for three seconds." His fingers tightened around yours.

"I've been shot before." A bitter laugh escaped him. "I've been stabbed." Another. "I've had guns pointed at my head more times than I can count." He finally looked up.

"But those three seconds were the most terrified I've ever been in my entire life."

Your breath caught. Because he wasn't speaking like a captain. Or a leader. Or a man seeking revenge. He was speaking like someone in love.

You reached up slowly. The movement hurt, but it was worth it. Your fingers brushed through his hair.

Immediately, his eyes closed, leaning into your touch. Seeking comfort.

"I'm here." His shoulders trembled. "I'm here, Joong." A tear escaped before he could stop it. Then another.

You had never seen him cry. Never. Not once. Yet now, with your hand in his hair and your thumb brushing his cheek, he looked utterly defenseless.

"I love you." The confession slipped out before he could stop it. Raw. Honest. Terrified. As if he had spent four days holding those words hostage.

Your heart squeezed painfully. You smiled softly. "I know."

Hongjoong huffed out a laugh. "That wasn't the response I was hoping for."

You rolled your eyes. Even that small movement hurt. Then you tugged weakly on his sleeve. He leaned closer immediately. Closer, until your foreheads touched.

"I love you too, idiot."

For the first time in days, Hongjoong smiled. A real smile. Not the captain's smile. Not the manipulator's smile. Just Hongjoong.

And as he pressed a gentle kiss against your forehead, you realized something. For the first time in your life, you weren't fighting alone anymore.

The moment Hongjoong finally calmed down, the room felt strangely still—like the world outside had stopped existing entirely. The only sound left was the steady beeping of the monitor and his quiet breathing as he refused to let go of your hand.

Then, the door slammed open.

“Y/N!” Wooyoung was the first to burst in, loud enough to make the nurse outside immediately shush him. He froze halfway into the room when he saw you awake, eyes widening before his face twisted into relief.

“OH MY GOD, she’s alive.” Behind him, Mingi shoved his way in. “Move, you idiot.” He stopped mid-sentence, staring at you like he couldn’t process it properly. Then his shoulders dropped, and he let out a breath that sounded too shaky for someone who usually never stopped talking.

San followed next, quieter than usual, but his eyes immediately locked onto you like he was confirming you were really there. His jaw tightened, and he looked away almost instantly as if he hated the fact that he had been worried.

“Don’t do that again,” he muttered, voice rough.

Yeosang stepped in after him, silent as ever. He didn’t speak at first, just stood by the doorway, watching you carefully. Then, after a long pause, he gave a small nod.

“Good,” he said simply. One word. But it carried more relief than anything else.

Jongho came last, pushing past the others with a medical bag already in hand out of habit. He scanned you quickly, eyes sharp and focused, before letting out a small exhale.

“Vitals are stable,” he confirmed, as if he hadn’t been worried at all. But the way his fingers tightened around his strap gave him away.

Seonghwa appeared behind them, composed as always, but his expression softened the moment he saw you awake. He didn’t rush in like the others. Instead, he stepped closer slowly, like he needed to make sure the sight was real.

“You caused quite a mess,” he said gently. But his voice wasn’t annoyed, it was relieved.

For a moment, the room was chaos. Wooyoung talking too loudly, Mingi pacing, San pretending he wasn’t shaken, Jongho checking monitors unnecessarily, Yeosang watching quietly, Seonghwa trying to restore order.

And Hongjoong, he still hadn’t let go of your hand. You looked around at all of them. At the noise. At the concern. At the way none of them had actually left your side. And something in your chest shifted.

Because this wasn’t just protection. It wasn’t just a mission anymore. This was family. Messy, loud, dangerous.

But real.

Wooyoung suddenly pointed at you. “I swear, if you scare us like that again, I’m personally-”

“Shut up,” San snapped immediately.

“Make me!”

“Both of you, quiet,” Seonghwa sighed.

You let out a weak laugh before you could stop yourself. The room went silent. All eyes turned to you. Even Hongjoong froze slightly, glancing at you like he was memorizing the sound.

And for the first time, You didn’t feel like you were surrounded by criminals.

── omg this is my first ever post on here and it turned out to be waaaay longer than i had intended, honestly. i’ve had this idea in my head for a while and knew nobody else was gonna do it so i had to take matters into my own hands. i’d like to mention that this is NOT proofread. if you see any typos pls lmk !! i really hope u enjoy it, byeeeee >ᴗ<

inhale.

exhale.

everything is fine, you’re okay. it’s not like you’re about to walk into a room full of people you’ve never met before or anything. oh! and even better, you’ll be with them for the rest of your life. how perfect. it’s not a huge change, i mean, you’ve been working for this since you were what, sixteen? or was it fifteen? hell, who knows? all you know is you’re an eighteen year old girl ready to change her life forever.

“come in!” that pulls you out of it. the rough voice coming from the other side of the frosted glass door has just enough power to make your hand rest on the handle.

you want this. you need this.

one more inhale, another exhale. you push the door open and immediate chaos floods all five of your senses.

boys. eight boys are seen on the couch in the corner of the room, some goofing off with one another and some staying to themselves.

loud, it’s so loud in here, why? oh, that might be due to the four boys practically screaming over each other as they argue about whatever the fuck the current topic is.

cologne. it reeks of testosterone in here. woody, fresh, warm, musky. wait, it kind of smells really good. not important.

oh god, here comes the cotton mouth. your mouth tastes bitter and your whole body has run cold, or hot. are you sweating? fuck if you know. you reach up to touch your forehead. no, yeah, definitely sweating. why are you so cold? oh no, no, no.

consider your world completely and utterly fucking. rocked.

boys? why would i ever want to be surrounded by boys all day, every day?

i thought i would be with a group of girls.

they didn’t specify this in the papers.

god, please save me, tell me this is a dream. i can’t live a life like this. i’m gonna pass out. there is entirely too much going on in this room. is the room spinning?

you exhausted all of the possibilities in your head long before opening the door. but this? this was not one of them.

one of the eight boys looks up at you. he has sharp features. asymmetrical eyes, you clock that almost immediately as they pierce through you. he’s clad in a red bape and ape hoodie and black adidas sweatpants. brown hair, tanned skin, big, perfect nose. he nods towards you and goes right back to his phone. the smirk on his face certainly not going unnoticed by you.

you know what? okay, yeah.

“wooyoung, please, not right now,” you breathe out. you guys have just wrapped up practice for your latest comeback; work. and boy, oh boy, are you fucking working.

“pleaseeeee,” he begs, “it’ll only take a minute.”

“okay, then you can wait for just a minute,” you pant. keep in mind, currently laying on the floor here. dropped dead. limbs numb. sweating from your scalp to your little piggies. what does wooyoung want? glad you asked! tiktok. he wants to make a fucking tiktok fresh after practice. “how do you have the energy to even want to make a tiktok right now, dude?”

“um, because the choreo isn’t as draining as you’re making it seem? and even then, you’ve been stumbling over your feet all day,” he sits next to you on the floor, holding himself up with his arms as he cocks his head at you. at this point, the rest of the boys have exited the room for water, food, or their beds.

you chew on the inside of your cheek as you figure out what to say. honestly? you haven’t eaten in two days, certain parts of the choreo aren’t sticking with you like they usually would, you’re distracted, dissociated, not all there with the rest of the world. your boyfriend is currently on tour, and you’ve had this gut wrenching feeling eating away at you ever since he left. i love you baby, you know that, right? he had said. weird, but also, not weird? you say you love each other every time you’re going to be separated for a while, so why did it feel different this time?

“hello?” wooyoungs fingers snap in front of your face, “are you still with me, darling?” you blink.

“did you just snap at me?”

“well, yes.”

a moment of silence.

you spring forward and drag him onto the floor with you, punching his sides, “do. you. want. to. die?” you grunt between punches as he laughs, pleading with you. after a moment you both sit up, “i’m fine, wooyoung, don’t worry. i do have to go to my dorm though, so, have fun!” you squeak as you jump up onto your feet, almost losing your balance.

wooyoungs face scrunches up, “what are you in such a rush for? gotta call your boytoy?”

“he’s my boyfriend, not boytoy. get it right. but since you’re so curious, no, actually, i’m just ready to strip naked and wash my ass.”

“yeah whatever, didn’t need to know all that,” it’s silent as he watches you pack up your belongings from the floor. his feet wiggle in place, fighting the urge to help you pack up. he can hear it now, i am an independent woman, why the fuck would i need you to do that for me? he chuckles to himself before noticing a bruise on the back of your arm, immediately perking up, “what happened there?”

“huh?” you turn to look at him, then to the back of your arm where he was gesturing, “oh, mingi happened. i slammed into him earlier, remember? turns out he’s made of stone instead of skin and bones.”

“ah, right. make sure you take care of that.”

your eyebrows furrow as you chuckle and turn to face him again, “it’s a bruise wooyoung, not a stab wound. it’ll take care of itself.”

“still, don’t put pressure on it when you sleep tonight,” he states as he finally gets up and makes his way towards the door with you, “it could make it worse, or something.” he shrugs.

“sir yes sir, dr. jung,” you salute as you turn to walk your separate ways. wooyoung slings his already-packed-bag over his shoulder and watches you turn the corridor. with a sigh, he turns and makes his way over to his dorm.

perk number one of being the only girl in ateez: you get your own dorm. it gives you a break from boys in your fully furnished, cozy, warm, space. now, yunho and yeosangs dorm? a literal cardboard box. you couldn’t be paid enough to live in that.

you let out a sigh upon entering your dorm, sliding off your shoes and into your slippers. dropping your bag and keys off at the door, you beeline to your room and rip your drawers open.

underwear, shirt, what else, what else… oh!

you throw the clothes on your king sized bed, moving towards your vanity where you keep your self care. you snatch your favorite scents off the shelves and toss them on the bed with your clothes. it’s go time, baby.

the bathroom is humid and smells like the gingerbread man drowned in the tub, just how you like it. bubbles are engulfing your body, music is playing on the speaker beside you, you’ve got your wine glass in your hand, vanilla candle lit. what else could you possibly need?

…

why did your music stop..?

ring ring ring

your eyes snap open. you have got to be kidding me.

the growl that escapes your throat is beastly, leaning over the wall of the bathtub to grab your phone.

incoming call: my baby <3

the smile that appears on your face is bright enough to light millions of galaxies. of course, you answer with much enthusiasm. “hi baby! i miss you so much. how’s tour?”

“i miss you too, what’re you doing?” okay fuck me and my question then. from the looks of it, he’s laying in his hotel bed. all you can see is the top of his head though, strange?

“i’m taking a nice relaxing bath, soaking in the peace while i have some. today’s practice was so tiring.”

“mm,” he groans out. it’s silent for a beat before he speaks again, “fuck- i miss you, baby,” he sounds breathless.

um. “i miss you too… are you feeling okay?” your eyebrows furrow with concern. his camera moved down a bit more, you can see his whole face now. his eyes are closed, his bottom lip squeezed between his teeth, eyebrows pinched together. it seems he has no shirt on also, which is pretty normal for him.

“y-yeah, i’m just tired,” his eyes open to look at you now, droopy.

“oh- well, i’ll let you go then. get some rest, okay?”

“alright. b-bye,” he stutters. right before he hangs up the phone, yes, he hangs up, you hear a moan. well, no not a moan. a groan? squeak? whatever the fuck it was, it didn’t come from him. it was high pitched, feminine.

the fuck?

your thumbs move faster than your brain.

you: what the fuck was that?

12:28am

you: hello?

12:46am

you: jaehyun r u srs

you: did u fall asleep

1:13am

you: annyeonghaseyo what the fuck ????

now here you are, laying in your bed. restless, stressed, sad. you have pretty damn good ears, there’s no chance that they could be deceiving you right now. it’s been almost two hours since he hung up and you bolted out of the bathroom. you don’t understand, everything was fine before he left. what could’ve happened within the span of a few days?

you didn’t get a wink of sleep. maybe an hour — no, that’s a reach. you slept for thirty minutes before your alarm clock began screaming at you to wake up. ten seconds later, here comes the banging on the door.

“what, literally what?” you yelled as you stomped towards the door, swinging it open harshly.

“oh- good morning to you, too,” wooyoung waves before pushing past you and into your living room. “you look like shit, by the way.”

you’re surprised your eyes didn’t get stuck in the back of your head with the force you rolled them with. “we don’t have practice for another three hours wooyoung, why are you here?”

“i’m here to chill and eat your snacks beforehand, duh. call it practice pregame,” he says matter-of-factly.

“the whole point of me having my own dorm was so that none of you could be in here with me. get out,” you deadpanned as you made your way to the kitchen for a glass of water.

“well that’s kind of hard to avoid, i’m only a building away. plus, san, mingi, and seonghwa literally live a door down.”

“yeah, a door down, not in my guest bedroom.”

wooyoung scoffs and turns his body away from the tv, really watching you now, “what’s up with you today? you’re awfully snappy”

you place your glass on the island counter and stare at him for second. he’s serious, isn’t he? “gee, i don’t know, maybe because i only got thirty minutes of sleep before i was woken up by a psychotic alarm clock at seven in the fucking morning! then an even more psychotic man—who is currently sitting on my couch, barged into my home, chose to bother me on a morning that wouldn’t have been any better anyways but at least i wouldn’t have to worry about being disturbed by you—” you ramble, your hands flailing all over the place as you go on and on.

wooyoung? he listens. he could tell something has been bothering you these past few days, he knows it’s best for you to let it all out now than later. in the midst of your breakdown he rises from the couch and moves to sit across from where you stand instead.

“i tried to have a relaxing night last night before my fucking boyfriend called me—”

“i thought you were excited to talk to him?”

“oh, just you fucking wait. so, he ended up calling me while i was in the bath. when i answered he sounded very… tired? i guess, i have no idea anymore. i’m so fucking confused,” you hold your head in your hands as you recall what happened last night, “he fucking called me, okay? i knew something was off when i answered and the only thing i could see was his stupid fucking forehead for the first two minutes.”

“two minutes? but th—”

“it was a short conversation,” you cut wooyoung off, holding your hand up, “i tried to talk to him about my day, you know, normal couple things. told him about practice, all that good shit. what’d he say? mm. fucking mm?!” you exclaimed, “and it didn’t even sound like an mm of acknowledgement, it sounded horny as fuck! he was all like—mm fuck, baby i miss you, like, get out of my face.”

wooyoung rolled his eyes, not at you—never at you, but at what he was hearing. he was simply distraught at the fact that anyone could be so vague and passive with you, one of the most charismatic people he knows. although he can’t blame him if he was in fact horny.

“that’s not even it, wooyoung. he starts… moaning? groaning? i don’t know, he sounded out of breath and like he was trying to hold stuff in. eventually, the camera moved down. i don’t think he meant for it to though. he was biting his lip and shit, it looked freaky as hell, and trust me, i know his sex faces.”

wooyoung grimaces at the thought of you doing the deed with someone, “alright maybe i didn’t need to know that.” retract previous statement. he can blame him.

“no you definitely did, it’s crucial to the plot. anyways, i asked him if he felt okay, to which he replied y-yeah, i’m just tired,” you mocked him in your ‘man voice’, “i told him to just get some rest—now keep in mind, he called me, okay? right before he hung up i heard a weird noise. i don’t wanna say it was a woman, but it sounded very feminine.”

“what the fuck?”

“yeah, what the fuck. i texted him for an hour straight last night, still no response to this very moment,” you sigh, now looking down at your glass of water. “i don’t want to accuse him of cheating but like,” you look back up at wooyoung, “ive had this gut feeling something bad was happening behind my back ever since he left for tour. that’s why ive been acting strange, and i know i shouldn’t have held it in but i just-” you sigh.

wooyoung is absolutely fuming, even if he didn’t show it. he is a man after all, he understands exactly what is going on—granted he’d never participate in such devious activities if he had a parter, especially not if he had someone like you. he walked around the counter and engulfed you in his arms. your body began to tremble, finally releasing all the pent up emotions you’ve been holding on to.

“i’m sorry i was mean,” your muffled voice fills his ears.

“it’s okay honey, i’d be mean too if i were you,” he pulled back to look at your face. your had tears streaming down your cheeks as you looked up at him. it tore him into pieces to see you like this. his hands reached up to wipe your face, “go get cleaned up, we’re going out.”

you frown, “out where?”

“out,” he shoves you towards your room, “go.”

“ooh look at this,” san chirps as he poses with the girliest purse you’ve ever seen. wooyoung decided to gather almost everyone to go out and shop together after your breakdown? rant? rant. you don’t have breakdowns over men. either way, it’s definitely cheering you up.

“wait, what about this one?” mingi walks up behind you with a more sleek purse. oh, here comes seonghwa strutting down with wooyoung hand-in-hand, holding matching coach bags. you can’t help but laugh at how ridiculous they look.

“so if i say i love them all you guys will buy them for me?” you lift your eyebrow with a smirk on your face.

“yes,” they say in unison.

chuckling and shaking your head, “guys you don’t have to do this, i’m seriously fine with just walking around. you don’t have to shove all these things in my face and beg to buy them for me,” wooyoung looks at you with a knowing look, cocking his head to the side. he can always tell when you’re bluffing, “okay fine, sugar baby me.”

and sugar baby you they sure fucking did. the boys walk in tandem with you back to your dorm, all of their arms covered with bags of things they bought you. you know when that one kid in school walked down the hallway and you just knew they were coming because of their keychains? yeah, that’s basically them but with shopping bags right now.

“fuck, why did you let me do this,” seonghwa pants as you guys exit the elevator.

“you wouldn’t leave me alone, don’t complain now,” you shrug as you unlock your door and let them in. the bags are immediately dropped to the floor, grunts and groans of relief coming from the men. “you guys are dramatic. hey—don’t break my shit!”

“anything you say, girly. now let’s go, we have to be at practice in thirty minutes. hongjoong will kill us if we’re late… again.” san says.

you giggle as they walk ahead of you and out of your dorm. as you’re locking your door you feel your phone vibrating in your pocket, frowning, you pull it out.

oh.

jaehyun.

you begrudgingly put the phone to your ear, “yes, jaehyun?” wooyoung turns to look at you at the mention of his name, a concerned look on his face. you shake your head at him and motion for him to go ahead, which he reluctantly obeys.

“hey baby, how are you?”

“uh, i’m good. could be better, actually. what’s up?” you begin walking a few feet behind the boys, closer to wooyoung than the rest of them. of course, he purposefully walked slower than the rest to pick up on your conversation. call him nosy, shame him for eavesdropping, he couldn’t care less.

“oh, um- i was just wondering. what happened last night?”

your heart stopped for a moment. he’s serious?

“what do you mean?”

“well i saw i had called you last night but i don’t remember it at all, haha,” haha. “i drank with the guys so i was pretty drunk.”

“oh, i see… were you too drunk to answer my texts as well or was that because you were busy doing something else—or should i say—someone else?” your irritation is evident in your voice at this point. the other side of the line does quiet for a beat too long, so you take the initiative, “you know what, jaehyun? until you manage to use all the brain power you have left to tell me exactly what you were doing last night; don’t message me, don’t call me, don’t even think of me. got it?”

“wait- baby, i-”

beep beep beep.

shut up.

you rolled your eyes and tucked your phone back into your pocket. the peace was nice for the two hours it lasted.

“get out. my. face.” sans voice booms through the practice room as he calls out the phrases that helps you all remember the choreo. today is the last day of practice, which is very stressful for you this time around. usuallly you’d have every movement nailed down by now, but you’re falling behind.

you keep fucking bumping into mingi during the stupid ass line formation you have to do. you’re sweating, your clothes are sticking to your body, hair falling out of your ponytail, bruises beginning to form from your countless failures.

“take 5 guys,” hongjoong calls out as he exits the room.

“are you doing okay?” jongho crouched down beside where you’re sprawled out on the floor.

“oh my fucking lord, yes, i’m fucking peachy. i am perfectly fine. why is everyone asking me this? actually, no, you know what, jongho? no, i’m not fucking okay because i’m pretty sure my boyfriend is cheating on me with some random bitch while i’m here stuck in this muggy practice room and failing at everything i do. is that a better answer for you guys? i’m not okay,” is what you wish you could scream out at the top of your lungs. unfortunately, what you say is, “i’m okay jjong, thank you,” don’t forget to top it off with a smile and nod!

thankfully, he drops it, deciding to not push you further. unlike someone, what’s his name?

“yeah right, what’d that asshole have to say to you earlier?” wooyoung plops himself on the ground on your other side. oh right, wooyoung.

“wouldn’t you like to know.”

“yeah i would, that’s kind of why i asked,” he shoves your shoulder, “come on, tell me. i promise i wont hunt him down, even though i should,” he murmurs the last part.

“what was that?” he shakes his head and motions for you to speak, sigh. “he basically just told me he didn’t remember anything from last night.”

“mm, and what’d you say?”

“you know what i said wooyoung, i know you were listening.”

“well tell me again, it was kind of hot,” he smirks, that makes you roll your eyes as you laugh.

hongjoong comes back and everything is set in motion once again, you swear that five minute break felt more like five seconds. after two more hours the work day has ended, you’re back in your bed, and suddenly it’s almost a month later. you pulled countless all-nighters practicing the choreography by yourself, pushing your body to its limit. jaehyun? not a word from him, and that’s perfectly fine with you. the music video released a few days ago, and now it’s s performance day. you have bigger things to worry about.

to say you’re nervous is an understatement. the anxiety of repeating the same mistakes you had worked so hard to fix comes creeping up your neck, sending shivers down your spine. or was it the hand that’s now laying against your lower back that did that?

“you ready, popstar?” wooyoung whispers into your ear from behind. you can’t see him, but you can feel him. hear him, smell him. it’s overwhelming to say the least, but also provides you a sense of comfort. you turn your head to the side and smile at him with a nod.

you all get into position in the stage, waiting patiently for the music to start, fans are cheering. what’s going in your head, you wonder?

anytime now…

oh! that scared me, oh my it’s really loud.

these lights are blinding me…

don’t mess up, don’t fuck it up. wait—yes, fuck it up. fuck it up so good, girl.

get out. my. face.

please don’t bump into him, please don’t bump into him.

oh thank fuck. thank you, lord.

okay jongho sing itttt.

voice please don’t crack, it’s my turn.

gotta make that money make—

it’s nothing but heavy breathing and stripping of clothing once you get backstage. you had been itching to get this heavy ass jacket off your frame for over an hour now, the relief of shredding it from your body an overwhelming sensation.

“you did so good, im so proud of you.” wooyoung jogs towards you and squeezes you so tight you can barely breathe.

“thank you, youngie, but i’m really sweaty and i kinda can’t breathe… move. please.” he pulls away with a breathless smile.

“you ready to do it all over again in two days?” he winks at you, the guttural groan you let out probably echoed down the halls. “i’ll take that as a no,” he laughs.

later that night after you’ve returned home and showered, you hear a knock at your door. who the fuck? you open the door to see none other than jung fucking wooyoung standing there in his full pajama set.

a giggle escapes your lip as you quirk a brow at him, “and what do you think you’re doing?”

“uh, sleepover?” he says, or asks, it’s hard to tell which one it was. once you see the container of brownies in his hands though? it was an immediate yes anyway. he cooks you dinner, you serve him wine, it all felt very domestic but also… just friendly? there was no tension, nothing dramatic. it was almost as if he were one of your girlfriends. you gossiped, laughed, watched movies, things that you’d do with your best friend.

while you guys are in the middle of watching the second hunger games movie, there’s another knock at the door.

“did you invite san or yeosang over?” you question, to which he shakes his head just as confused as you are. you get up and go open the door, freezing in place once you see who’s behind your door.

jaehyun.

all you can do is stare at him through the crack of the door, all the emotions you had forgotten about a month ago suddenly crashing down on you.

“who is it?” you hear wooyoung shout from the couch. nobody answered him.

“hey,” jaehyun started. no.

“don’t,” you hold your hand up, “are you fucking kidding me right now?”

“look, i know i messed up—”

“messed up? messed up?! we haven’t spoken in a fucking month, jaehyun!” you snatch your phone from the pocket of your pajama pants and open the messages between you guys, “12:28am, what the fuck was that? 12:46am, hello? jaehyun are you serious? did you fall asleep? 1:13am, hello, what the fuck?” your eyes are open so wide they’re damn near bulging out of your head. behind you, wooyoung creeps up around the corner.

“baby, please just let me in so we can talk—”

“about what? about fucking what, jaehyun? have you finally remembered what happened that night or what?” silence. “well, i’m waiting. what happened? please, do tell.”

silence, again. fine.

“i thought you were on tour, why are you here?”

“i- i am- i was i- i’m back just for the week. i-“ he sighs, searching for the words he wants to say, “i- i cheated on you,” he said under his breath as he looked at his feet.

“hm? what?”

“i fucking cheated! okay? are you happy now? i cheated on you!”

your five senses have been infiltrated once again.

blurry. everything is blurry, you can’t see who you’re talking to anymore. nothing is clear, you’ve spent two years of your life with this man. the man you thought you would marry, the man who wrote songs about you, the man who was your first everything.

your ears are ringing, what did he say? you knew it, you had a feeling deep down inside. but for him to just flat out scream it out like it means nothing? like you mean nothing?

you can smell the alcohol on his breath as he speaks to you. oh, he’s been drinking. again. go figure.

just seeing him leaves a bitter taste on your tongue.

tears. red, hot, angry tears are streaming down your face. you feel your hands touch your face, are you moving your arms? you can’t feel them. everything feels numb, you’re numb.

“y-you need to go,” you whimper, looking right through him as more and more tears cascade down your cheeks.

“jagiya, i-”

“don’t,” you feel a hand on the small of your back. your lip starts quivering, you start breathing faster, you’re panicking. you don’t understand anything that’s going on right now. “you heard her, you need to go,” he doesn’t. “leave before i fucking make you leave, and trust me, you don’t want that.” wooyoung threatens, causing you to jump slightly at the sudden outburst. his hand rubs circles against your spine.

jaehyun looks between the two of you, then at the floor, ultimately deciding to leave the premise. your numb hand slowly moves to shut the door, and all you can do is stare at it. you feel your body slide down the door as your sobs finally break free.

you knew it.

you fucking knew it.

why were you in denial for so long? why did you allow this to happen to yourself? this is all your fault, if you knew, then why didn’t you end it before now? do you still love him? were you hoping that it wasn’t true? god, it would’ve been much better if you were just making thing up in your head.

you sob, and you sob even more. wooyoung drops down next to you and pulls you into his arms. “what’s wrong with me?” you cry out.

“nothing is wrong with you, honey. nothing at all, okay?” he hears his chin on top of your head as he rubs your back, “he has no idea what he just lost. you’re the smartest, most amazing, beautiful, kind, courageous person i know. you’ll find the one who’s best for you.”

“promise?” you whimper.

wooyoungs heart is torn. all he wants in this moment is for you to be okay, happy, and in his arms. “i promise, i really do.”

it’s been a long time since that night. a really long time, actually. you’ve had three comebacks since then and are currently working on your fourth; golden hour: part 4. now sitting in the studio, wooyoung and yourself are bundled up on the couch together scrolling on pinterest.

“i’ll do it if you do it,” he smiles and turns his head to look at you, showing you a picture of cherry red hair.

“you want me to dye my hair red?” he nods. “you’re not gonna chicken out last second and have me running around like strawberry shortcake, will you?” wooyoung damn near dies. why? because it’s you. it wasn’t nearly half as funny as he made it out to be, but you just tickle him so good.

“of course not, i’ve already dyed my hair red before, remember?” oh you remember all too well. that red hair looked spectacular on him. it was during that time when you had a crush on him—or was it before then? scratch that, it was when you first met. you had a huge crush on wooyoung when you first met, and it lasted up until you met jaehyun for the first time. when was that? 2021? you broke up in… 2024?

gosh, it’s been so long since you’ve even thought about jaehyun. it’s now 2026 and you all have moved on to bigger and better things. last you checked, he was doing his military service.

haha, you lost your hair. loser.

you know who hasn’t lost his hair? wooyoung. where were we? oh right, back to the crush thing. yeah, you had the fattest crush on him, just cute puppy love at first. he didn’t know, you tried to hold it in, it ate away at you for years, and eventually the crush faded. but now? something has changed, you can’t tell if it’s the way he looks at you or if the plates in your brain shifted the night he comforted you during one of the most heartbreaking moments in your life. all you know is right now, he is taking your breath away all over again.

“do you know how to dye hair?” you ask.

“i mean… not really, but i can try.” he smiles down at you, oh god.

“alright, i’ll dye your hair tonight. come over with the stuff so i can get to business, and make sure you get enough!”

“how much is enough?”

“the whole store baby, the whole store.” you rest your head on his shoulder and continue scrolling on your phone.

baby? did she just call me baby? she’s never done that before. what does that mean? uh, my heart is kind of freaking out. oh my god, does she hear it?

so yeah, wooyoung may or may not have never gotten over his crush on you. fuck that, he never did. it’s definite. when you were with jaehyun he had to tone down the his touching, flirting, all the things that makes him, well, him. but it’s been two years since jaehyun has been out of the picture. guess what that means? it’s his turn.

he’s had a crush on you ever since you graced his eyes, though he never allowed himself to show it. which, even if he did, he’s pretty sure you’d only just think it’s him being the same old flirty wooyoung when that wouldn’t have been the case at all. i mean, yes, he has flirted with you, and yes it has been serious on his end. does he think you got the hint though? pfft, how could you? you were too far up jaehyuns ass to pay him any mind.

knock knock knock

“yay, yay, yay, yay, yay, yay, yayyyyy!” you squeal as you make your way over to your door. you love when it’s time to get your hair done, just as much as you love doing others’ hair. you yank the door open with a big smile, and as expected, wooyoung is standing there with a boyish grin and a bag full of hair supplies.

“are you ready to stain your entire bathroom?”

“yes!”

here’s the current situation; you currently have your hair soaked in red dye under a shower cap. wooyoung? he’s sitting on the toilet while you stand in front of him and work the dye into his hair.

“you should’ve put gloves on,” he says as he watches you work your magic above him. he’s extremely aware of how close you are to one another right now, you between his legs while he struggles to figure out where the fuck he should put his hands.

“well you didn’t either. if you get in trouble then i’ll get in trouble too,” you smile down at him with the most beautiful smile he’s ever seen. he takes this moment to really look at you. you have a beauty mark right under your lip, how has he never noticed that before? you smell amazing, don’t get him wrong, you always smell good, but right now? oh my god. vanilla and everything gourmand. wooyoung swears he’s become addicted to it.

you know he’s staring, you’re extremely aware of it actually. that’s what makes this all the more fun. you’ve noticed he’s been extra clingy lately. always sitting with you during practice breaks, going to get food with you, getting food for you, he’s even been walking you home some nights. you’re not sure why, but your hopes are most certainly high.

“what’re you looking at?” you question with an anxious laugh.

“your beauty mark,” he replies, reaching up to rub his finger against it. okay, that took you off guard completely. your entire body froze for a second before getting back to work on his hair, reaching to gather more of the dye. wooyoung noticed the effect he had on you.

“you’re just now noticing it?”

“yeah, i don’t know why though…” he says softly, almost mesmerized. “it’s pretty,” the room is silent for a moment after that, the only sound coming from your hands working on his head. “you’re pretty.”

you freeze.

what did he just say?

your eyes fall to his, he’s already looking at you. you both stare at each other for a moment, no words being said but somehow it’s so loud in this bathroom. you notice him leaning up, an attempt to get closer to your face. you find yourself also inching closer to him, so close yet so far.

your lips are inches away from each other at this point, his breath tickling your face. his hands slide up the backs of your legs and that’s what snaps you out of it. you quickly pull away, clearing your throat. wooyoung jumps from shock and does the same, nervously rubbing his hands on his thighs.

“um- your hair should be good now. we just have to leave it in for thirty minutes,” you quickly say as your hands move just as fast to grab all the trash.

wooyoung clears his throat, “yeah, alright. okay,” he stands and grabs a shower cap, putting it over his hair. you’re out of the bathroom in a flash, speeding to your trash can and onto the couch. fuck. what just happened.

you turn a show on, no idea what it is but it provides you a distraction from whatever the hell you almost did in there. wooyoung makes himself known by sinking into the couch next to you. you don’t look at him, don’t acknowledge his presence, you don’t even speak. all you can do is stare straight ahead at the tv and pray the timer on your phone goes off any minute now.

wooyoung is the same. this fucking timer can’t go off any faster. he takes his chances and looks over at you, but you pay him no mind. ouch. it’s stays exactly like that until thirty minutes are up, the both of you springing off the couch and heading for the bathroom.

“we should wash your hair out first since it’s been sitting longer,” he points out. yeah, i guess we should. you grab a towel and wrap it around your shoulders while wooyoung takes your shower cap off. god this is awkward. you get on your knees and lean over the tub while wooyoung begins massaging your head under the water.

“holy fucking shit it’s been almost ten minutes why is the water not clear yet?” you yell out. you back is aching and your sure wooyoungs is too.

“i don’t know, do you think it’s good enough? i mean, it’s pink water and not red water so…”

“it’s good. it’s good, it’s good. oh my god, my back hurts please let me get up,” you groan as wooyoung helps you up and wraps the towel over your head. you just stare at each other for a minute before letting out tiny laughs. “you’re next.”

wooyoung stares at your pink-stained bathtub, “yeah, i guess i am.” and then you repeat the process once more, except it’s much louder and way more annoying this time.

“ouch! don’t rip my hair out, damn it!”

“i’m sorry, im not trying to!”

“my back hurts, oh my god.”

“i’m never letting you dye my hair again.”

wah, wah, wah! crybaby, crybaby, crybaby!

eventually, the torture is over and it’s time to dry the hair. great.

“do you want me to dry your hair or do you have it?” you ask.

wooyoung smiles, “you can do it.” oh, of course. don’t be mistaken, the situation is still very much awkward, but somehow a bit of the tension has been released. that’s just how you guys are. while you dry his hair there’s nothing to be said, as if you would even be able to with how loud the damn thing is.

once you finish his hair you switch roles, but instead of you sitting on the toilet he stands behind you in front of the sink. perks of being taller, i guess. you watch him very carefully through the mirror as he runs his fingers through your hair, making sure to dry every piece without tangles. he’s so pretty, you can’t help but to think.

just then, he looks up at you. you’ve been caught. his smirk grows wide, “whatcha looking at, huh?” he yells over the blow dryer.

“mm, nothing,” you say innocently with the faintest smile.

he turns the blow dryer off, “huh? what was that?” he teases.

you roll your eyes, “i said nothing.” he places the blow dryer on the counter and traps you from behind, both arms resting on either side of your body.

“doesn’t look like nothing,” he whispers in your ear whilst maintaining eye contact in the mirror. is the window open? it’s very cold in here, no, it’s hot. it’s so fucking hot.

wooyoungs hands move to your waist and spin you around to face him, “you won’t run from me this time, will you?” he whispers, eyes flicking to your lips for a split second.

you can’t help but to notice how close you both are in this moment, his hips keeping you grounded against counter, the tips of your noses brushing. you shake your head as you both lean in, lips finally locking. his arms wrap around your waist and pull you impossibly closer, your arms lock around his neck, fingers pulling at his freshly dyed hair.

you open your eyes for a split second, seeing the cherry red hair you worked oh so hard on.

you hear wooyoungs groans as you pull his soft hair, and you can smell the strawberry chapstick he must’ve put on right before this.

your tongues mix together, now finally, you taste the strawberry chapstick.

his hands are roaming all over your body now, and you reciprocate. your hands glide down his back, feeling the muscles as they flex beneath your hands.

wooyoung groans into your mouth once more, feeding you with all of his beautiful sounds. yours mouths move in tandem with one another, barely coming up for air, but when you finally do? oh, it is so, so sweet.

your breaths mingle as you pull apart, staring into each others eyes. “so,” you squeak.

“so.”

“what now?” he hums as he rests his forehead on yours.

“hmm, round two?” you both giggle as you lock your lips for a second time that night, the both of you having no idea what you’ve just started.

it’s officially comeback day. you’ve got adrenaline flushing through your veins. no, seriously. you’re all backstage getting your make up and hair done. wooyoung is sitting beside you with his assigned make up artist while you get your hair done, scrolling through your phone and seeing what atiny thinks about the music video.

“wooyoung, atiny said they like our matching hair.” you giggle and show him the comments under the video.

“they have good taste,” he winks. after about fifteen minutes your hair is done and wooyoung has his make up on, it’s time to rotate with the other members. you walk out the room and to your dressing room to make any adjustments to your make up and hair. what? god forbid a girl has preferences.

“now why are you ruining what our lovely stylists worked so hard on?” the oh, so, familiar voice booms through your dressing room, causing you to jump and accidentally smear lipstick on your chin.

“wooyoung!” you whined, pouting at him through the mirror. he’s smirking, leaning against the doorframe. “it wasn’t ruined until you did that shit!” you groan, not noticing him close the door and lock it behind him. you’re too focused on trying to fix your make up that you don’t realize how close he is now.

“aww baby, it’s okay. here, let me see,” he leans down from behind and holds your face in his hand. oh. licking his lips, he kisses up from the smeared lipstick to your lips, stealing your breath away. you relax immediately, releasing the breath you didn’t know you were holding in all this time.

he pulls away with a frown, “mm. that didn’t work, hold on.” he moves his thumb to your chin, carefully wiping the lipstick off. his bottom lip is tucked between his teeth as he pulls your bottom lip down with his thumb. feeling a bit naughty, you take advantage of this moment. you open your mouth and let him thumb glide against your tongue, maintaining eye contact with the cherry-haired man. “oh, baby…” he groans, “you shouldn’t do that.”

that only encourages you to suck his thumb harder. “oh, i see. you wanna be a little slut, huh?” your eyes gloss over at that, pupils dilated. he pushes his thumb further back before sliding it out your mouth, holding the side of your head as you lean into his touch.

“please,” you beg.

“please what?” he presses, sinking down to his knees and turning your chair to face him. your legs spread willingly, your body moving before you can even think. his hands smooth over your thighs, trialing up your skirt, “you gotta tell me what you want or i can’t help you, my love.”

your breath hitches as he pulls down the shorts you’re wearing underneath your skirt. “p-please, touch me.”

“touch you?” he cocks his head to the side, “touch you where, huh?” wooyoung leaves a trail of kisses up your inner thighs and pushes up your skirt to reveal your panties. his thumb grazes the wet spot shining through them, “here?” your legs try to close but oh, oh no, he’s not having that. he keeps your legs spread with his hands, “keep these pretty legs open or you won’t be getting a damn thing from me, got it?”

you’ve never nodded your head so quick in your life.

he hooks his thumb on your panties and pushes them aside, mouth watering at the sight. “oh, look at this pretty pussy,” he damn near moans as he blows cool air against your heat, making your hips jerk forward. he smirks before sinking inbetween your thighs, flattening his tongue against you to test the waters. you lay your head back against the chair, a content sigh escaping your lips.

his tongue swirled around your clit once, twice, three times before he began to suck, eliciting a loud moan from you. then comes his fingers, and boy does he waste no time. he dives two fingers into your heat, curling and twisting while you encourage him with your moans.

“oh- fuck, youngie.” you cry out. he chuckles against your clit before picking up the pace, “please- don’t stop, please.”

“mm, yeah? don’t stop?”

“please-”

“tell me how good it feels baby, tell your youngie how good he’s treating your pussy.”

you’ve completely lost your mind at this point, the coil in your stomach is getting tighter and tighter by the second. not a single word is coming to mind. you can’t speak, you can hardly think, only thing you know is him. with another flick of his tongue you’re releasing all over his fingers, crying out for god knows who as you rock your hips with the movement of his fingers still inside of you.

“yeah baby, let it all out for me. cum all over my fingers.” he coos. he helps you ride out your orgasm with a couple kisses to your now swollen clit, kissing up your body to your mouth. you can taste yourself on his tongue, his fingers still pumping in and out of your at a slow pace. after another minute or two he finally pulls them out of you, sucking his fingers dry and pulling you into another sloppy, wet, kiss.

when he pulls away a string of saliva is left behind, keeping the two of you connected. “bend over the vanity for me, doll.” he says as he unbuckles his belt and works to get his pants off. you do as he says and watch in the mirror as he pulls his cock out. you bite your lip once you see his red, hot, angry tip is leaking with precum, mouth immediately watering. “it’s impolite to stare.” he teases, pushing your head further down as he lines up behind you.

he pushes your skirt over your hips and pulls your panties to the side again, rubbing the tip of his cock against your clit, your mouth falls open as a silent moan tears through you. wooyoung bites his lip as he watches through the mirror. “that feel good baby? you feel me?” you nod. all you can do is nod at this point, you’re so insanely fucked out and he’s barely even done anything. “i need you to be quieter this time, okay? we gotta go on in five minutes.” he whispers in your ear.

his hands hold your hips steady against the vanity as he pushes in, holding back his own moan as he sinks into your heat. “fuckkk, baby.” he groans, his head falling back before he slides out and then slams back into you.

his whole body is leaning over you now as his hips piston into your gummy walls, your mouth has fallen open once again and your eyes roll to the back of your head. “oh, fuck!” your cry out, causing wooyoung to shove two fingers into your mouth to shut you the fuck up.

“what did i say?” he groans breathlessly into your ear, “be a good girl for me, shhh, shh, it’s okay.” he has to bite into your shoulder himself just to stay quiet, his own orgasm creeping up on him. the coil in your stomach is tightening again, your hands grabbing out for anything to keep you stable.

your orgasm tears through you once more, tears running down your face. “i feel you, baby. i’m here.” his hips are moving at an impossible speed by now, chasing his orgasm along with yours. once he feels your walls fluttering around him he knows it’s time. “cum again, baby. cum all over my cock, please- cum for me.” his whines drive you over the edge.

your entire body trembles underneath his as you release for the third time, all over his now softening cock. he pumps a few more times, making sure every last drop is gone before removing his fingers from your mouth and leaning back, looking down at the beautiful sight. once he slides out of you, his thumb replaces his cock. bending down to be face to face with your pussy, he pumps his thumb in and out of you a few times. “gotta make sure you don’t leak all over the stage, huh?” he smirks, removing his thumb and sliding your panties back into place.

“hey, where are my shorts?” you ask once you’ve both cleaned each other up. wooyoung smirks at you for what feels like the hundredth time today.

“oh, you mean these?” he holds them up on his pointer finger, waving them around in your face before shoving them in his pocket. “you won’t be needing them.”

staff knocks on your door, “thirty seconds, let’s go!” you both look at the door and then at each other.

wooyoung leans towards you, “like i said, don’t leak all over the stage.” and with that, he leaves a smack on your ass before walking out of the dressing room, leaving both you and your five senses going haywire.

what. the. fuck.

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