Ardef38

your ex who somehow managed to show up at the same club as you tonight when all you wanted was to forget about him. 

your ex who is currently dragging you out of said club because for some fucking reason he thinks he still can. 

which sucks, because you were having so much fun dancing with your friends. but mostly sucks because you were overcome with lustful excitement from the moment he grabbed your wrist. and that told you one thing.

you don’t really hate him. 

“what the fuck is your problem?” you spit once you make it outside. 

his grip is firm though not painful, and it’s a reminder of all the times he’d hold your hands above your head by your wrists as he made you feel every single stroke. as soon as he releases, you rub the skin where his touch lingered. not to soothe, but to remember. 

he’s lead you all the way to his car without saying a word. “you’re my problem,” he shoots back.

finally, he turns to you, and you recognize the rage. he knows. but you aren’t going to bite unless he does, so instead you play coy. 

“yeah, you made that pretty clear when you broke up with me,” you scoff, but it doesn’t have the effect you were hoping for. 

while you expected to watch his scowl deepen and his face harden further, you’re met with softer eyes and a sad frown. maybe he regrets what he did. maybe he actually feels bad about it.

but fuck that. he should feel bad. he should regret it. only an asshole breaks up with someone on their anniversary — so clearly, he’s an asshole. one you wish you never met, let alone gave your heart to. 

“i didn’t—” he pauses, raking his hands through his hair in frustration, “fuck, i didn’t mean to hurt you. i fucked up, okay?”

you laugh dryly and tilt your head wickedly. “aw, you didn’t mean to hurt me?” 

because that makes it all better. how did he manage to admit fault and avoid accountability at the same time? 

“no, i didn’t,” he growls. before you know it, you’re pressed against his car door and he’s caging you there with his arms. “so tell me it’s not true. tell me you didn’t fuck him.”

there it is. you knew you could trust jisung to stir the pot. he’s basically the certified pot stirrer at this point. 

“who? your friend?” you question deviously. “what’s his name again…min something?” 

obviously, you remember his friend's name well enough. but your finger tapping your chin is meant as a cruel taunt, and it’s working. whatever softness you once found in his features is wiped away again, replaced by pure fury. 

“you didn’t fuck minho,” he says flatly. like he’s offering you a chance to go back, to not find out what he has planned for you if you don’t. 

only there’s no going back now. you grin right in his face, illuminated by the moonlight in the otherwise dark parking lot. “oh, i did. and i loved it. because guess what, chan? i fucking hate you,” you sneer. 

it all happens so fast. he’s pushing off the car and pulling you backwards into his chest, yanking the door open like it’s the thing that wronged him. 

“get in the backseat. now,” he orders, mouth right next to your ear as he holds you in place. it sends a delicious shiver up your spine, and you swallow hard. when chan is angry like this, it’s the best sex imaginable — you’re already wet at the thought of it. 

he unwraps his arms from your waist and waits expectantly for you to obey, not pushing, not forcing. if you stand there, unmoving, he’ll accept it and let you return to your friends. 

but you both know that’s not what you want. you crawl into the backseat only a few moments later. 

a strange sense of comfort takes hold of you when you realize his car still smells the same. it’s the odd little things like that that the brain seems to fixate on after heartbreak. you’re not sure what you expected — another woman’s perfume to permeate the space, perhaps. maybe it once did. maybe there are still traces of her lingering on the very seat you currently occupy.

but right now, it’s just you and him.

he slips in beside you soon after, gripping your hips and pulling you onto his lap swiftly. the suddenness causes you to gasp quietly, but you settle into place right away. it’s familiar despite everything being different now. you would have once said you belong in his lap; it was your favorite place to be. now, it excites you, but also brings a wave of sadness. 

you suspect that he notices your face drop, because he brushes the hair out of your face with more gentleness than he’s extended so far tonight. “pretty girl,” he coos. “you shouldn’t have done that.”

“well i can’t unfuck him. so what, are you gonna fuck me now, channie? need to prove that you’re better?” you’re only provoking him further so he’ll fuck you harder. it’s a dangerous game, but one you know how to play all too well.

too bad he knows how to play dirtier. 

his hand slides just under your shirt, rubbing slow circles along the flesh of your waist. “i don’t have to prove shit. you know i’m better,” he snarls. “and that’s exactly why i’m not gonna do a fucking thing.”

no, no, no. he can’t possibly mean that. you’ve been taunting him, sure, and yes, you slept with his friend, but he was cruel first. you were just retaliating. which means right now, you’re even — there’s no reason for him to punish you like this. 

your whole body stills just as it did when he ended things, and he laughs callously at how pathetically cute you look. 

“what?” you whimper, hoping his words are only a joke to make you suffer for a little.

“what? did you think you’d hurt me? make me cry because you fucked my friend?” he smirks. “no, baby. now you’re gonna get yourself off on my thigh, and i’m gonna sit and watch.”

you’ve fucked up. he’s not going to touch you, not going to help you. you’re just a show to him, one he’s going to enjoy every minute of. 

“fuck you,” you snap. 

he chuckles, finding your reaction quite amusing. so mouthy for someone that was about to make a filthy mess on his thigh. “that’s what you want, isn’t it? probably begging for my cock, huh? too bad.”

“you’re such an asshole.”

you haven’t moved yet, so he grips both sides of your waist and rolls your hips against him for you. the skirt you chose to wear tonight is almost too perfect for this. like you had planned for it. it’s short — very short — intending to entice guys in the club and instead helping you grind against your ex’s leg easier.

the thin fabric of your panties offers little separation, and you moan softly at the first deliberate contact from his guidance.

“yeah, and yet you hopped into my backseat,” he retorts. “in this short skirt no less. bet you’re dripping in your panties — gonna leave a spot on my jeans, aren’t you, baby?”

his hands are still digging into your flesh, but you no longer need his assistance. you’ve started rolling your hips on your own, each slow drag sending a ripple of pleasure through you. and just as he promised, he just sits there, drinking in the sight of you.

you’re perfect. he doesn’t even really know why he broke up with you anymore — maybe because it was getting too real, and that scared him.

but then you had to go and do that. your actions left an ugly stain on your pretty character, and he wasn’t letting it go unpunished. 

when he looks down at where your clothed cunt is rutting against him, sure enough he notices a damp dark spot on the denim. how long have you been soaked like this? from the moment you saw him in the club? when he snatched your wrist and pulled you through the crowd of bodies?

he isn’t sure. what he is sure of, though, is that you never stopped wanting him. never stopped being his. 

“guess i was right. dripping for me, yet you wanted to give yourself to someone else,” he chides.

“shut up,” you try to make it sound like you mean it, but it comes out as a breathy whine. the friction against your clit sends your mind into a frenzy, all your anger mixing with your desperation. “you fucking ruin everything.”

that part you do mean. he ruins everything he touches — including you. especially you. and yet you grind down harder, faster, a dizzying rhythm that does just that. 

ruins you.

“not everything, just you. and you love it,” he corrects, because he knows just as well as you do. you gave him that power.

clearly, he loves it, too. he’s been hard ever since he watched you dancing with your friends in that short, short skirt. swaying your hips in all the ways you knew would drive him crazy. now that you’re on top of him like this, you can feel his cock straining against his jeans, begging to be released. he could fulfill you both right now if he wasn’t so prideful.

it’s almost sweet how he keeps his hands in place, steadying you, but then one shifts up into your hair and tugs. harsh, not sweet. it’s enough to jerk your head back a little, and he scoffs quietly at how fucked out you look from just clothed teasing.

“say it,” he demands, “and maybe i’ll be a little nicer.”

“i love it,” you pant. your dazed brain almost says the words “i love you.”

his lips curl into a satisfied smile, one that makes you feel stupidly proud. you like making him happy. and you love how he looks at you when you do. it’s so devilishly sexy that you whimper as you rock your hips wildly.

“knew you’d still be good for me. here, baby, d’you want me to pull your panties to the side?” 

if that was all he was willing to give you, then yes. feeling your heat directly against his jeans would have to be enough. 

“yes, please, chan,” you beg without him asking you to. 

as a reward, he slips his hand down between your legs, sliding the soaked fabric over to expose your heat fully. his fingers brush against you in the process, slick coating them from even the brief contact. 

it almost makes him lose all restraint and plunge inside of you. too bad he has so much self-control. 

you feel everything ten times more just by him removing a thin, useless layer. the rough denim pressing against your clit, his thigh flexing as he shifts with the discomfort of how hard he is, and the total absence of his hands. 

they’ve dropped to the seat, no longer tangling in your hair or gripping your hips. a sudden rush of confidence surges over you, and you wrap your hand around his wrist. 

to your absolute shock, he grabs yours right back and interlocks your fingers. it’s the sweetest thing he’s done tonight — a small remnant of your past love. 

“look at you, dirty fucking girl,” he rasps. apparently his mouth hadn’t caught up. “grinding your pussy on my thigh like a slut.”

“oh, fuck, chan,” you cry, free hand twisting into his shirt, searching for something to ground you. 

red hot tension courses through you, his words bringing you close to a very familiar release. your rhythm has gone erratic, and he knows what that entails. it’s almost impossible to resist you when his name falls from your lips so desperate and wrecked. 

he lets go of your hand just to hold you down harder against him. if he’s lucky, he’ll leave his fingerprints indented in your skin. “yeah, baby. remind yourself who makes you feel this good,” he groans.

“it’s you. it’s always you.” 

you wish it wasn’t true as much as you wish you truly hated him; no one else would ever have you like this. 

“i think the world needs to know that, hm?” he coos. “c’mere.”

you both lean forward until his mouth meets your neck halfway, planting wet, sloppy kisses wherever he can reach. it’s the most touch he’s given you, even if it’s only to leave marks for everyone to see. his teeth sink into your skin, biting harshly, the jolt of pain shooting straight down between your legs.

he’s emphasizing his claim over you, and perhaps you should feel ashamed or defeated for letting him. but you feel none of that. all you feel is your orgasm rapidly approaching, riding his thigh with determination as he sucks and kisses and bites. 

when he pulls back, he brings his fingers to the marks he’s just made. his hand is wrapped around your throat, pressing into the sides carefully. “tell me, what was his name, baby?” he asks, finishing his question with a firm squeeze.

this is the part where you’re not supposed to answer. you should forget any man’s name that isn’t his. but you’re willing to test your luck, because deep within you, that bitterness remains. an infestation that will slowly eat whatever’s left if you don’t rid yourself of it before it can. 

right now, you’re letting it rot you from the inside out. 

“minho,” you choke out. 

he slides his hand from your neck to your face, squishing your cheeks between it. “let’s try again,” he warns, “what’s his name?” 

“who? there’s only you,” you relent, blinking at him sweetly. 

it’s exactly what he wants to hear, and he drags his thumb along your lips in silent praise. you open for him instinctively, such a simple act causing his cock to twitch in his jeans. he broke you, he drove you into the arms of his friend (or really, you did that yourself, but he knows you’ve always been theatrical), yet you’re still so obedient. still taking everything he gives you, still wanting more. 

he pushes inside your mouth, humming contentedly when you suck and swirl your tongue around the digit. you’re teetering dangerously close to the edge now, praying he’ll lead you over it. 

“my good fucking girl,” he growls. “i know you wanna cum. go on, before i change my mind. cum for me, show me you’re mine.”

if you weren’t so blissed out right now, you’d probably argue with him — insist that he lost all privilege to call you his the moment he ended things (even if you still were). instead, you come undone on his thigh, hips jerking wildly as he coaxes you through it with a mixture of tender praise and filthy degradation. 

“so good for me,” “such a needy slut,” “so pretty when you’re like this,” “missed you so much,” he mumbles, and you wonder how much of what he says is true.

exhaustion rips through you as you come down, lust no longer keeping you afloat. without much thought, you drop your head into his shoulder, taking in the familiar scent of his cologne. the one you bought him.

“fuck. i hate that you’re still good at that,” you pant.

he laughs, trailing his fingers down your back gently. “i’ll never not be good at making you feel good. i don’t even have to touch you.”

minutes pass, maybe five, maybe twenty. you don’t know — you’re too entranced in chan’s presence, being held in his arms like nothing had ever changed. once you move, you’ll be met with the cold reality of what he did. of what you both did.

“by the way,” he begins, voice careful as he breaks the peaceful silence, “i know everything.”

and oh, how he breaks it. 

“wha—what?” you stammer, breath hitching. you lift your head and brace yourself for his anger, but all you find is an unnerving calm. 

“you didn’t fuck minho,” he says, much like earlier. only now it’s not daring, but certain. the entire time, he knew. and he let you lie and provoke and play this game with him for his own amusement. 

your eyes go wide with shame and surprise. “wait, no, i—” you try, but your mind goes blank. 

“sh, baby,” he coos. “he told me everything. said you brought him back to your place just to cry about how much you miss me. blue balled the poor guy so bad he had to go home and rub one out on his own,” he continues, chuckling sarcastically at the last sentence. 

you probably should have known chan would go right to the source himself. getting jisung to sell your story was one thing, but convincing minho to go along with it was a venture you didn’t even consider pursuing. honestly, you hadn’t spoken to him since that failed night; it was embarrassing for both of you. between you sat a silent agreement to never speak of it again. 

“it was a cute lie,” he taunts, “but lie again and see where it gets you.”

You, of course, noticed. You always noticed. You’d made a habit of teasing him since the semester started— loud, flirty energy wrapped in glossy lips and sharp eyeliner. You were the hot girl who had everyone’s attention in the lecture hall, and Hyunjin was the complete opposite. He was just the quiet one in the corner, the art student who tried to stay chill, pretended he didn’t care when you stole his pens or whispered something wicked into his ear during lunch break. But he did. He always did. Because he’d had a crush on you since week one.

You stretched your arms over your head, spine arching lazily, and his eyes followed the curve of your body like it was a reflex. Your skirt lifted slightly just a flash of thigh above the socks and his throat almost closed. “You’re not focusing”, you said, lips curled into a smirk. “I’m trying”, he admitted, sinking deeper into the couch, “My brain’s fried” “I’m trying,” he groaned, head tilted back against the cushion. “But it’s like my brain refuses to process anything”.

You smirked softly, “Maybe you just need a different kind of stimulation”. That got his attention, “Yeah? Like what, a shot of espresso? A slap to the face?”. Chuckling, you leaned closer, “No”, you said, voice dangerously slow, “Like… cockwarming”

The silence after that was thick and tangible. Hyunjin’s breath caught, eyes widening just enough to show you how caught off guard he really was. And then, a slow flush crept up his neck, “You’re not serious”, he said, but it sounded more like a dare than a denial. You tilted your head. “You said you need to study, right? I’ll sit on your lap. You stay in me. No movement, just warmth. You focus and I’ll even quiz you while we do it”.

Hyunjin blinked, mouth parting in disbelief, “You’re fucking evil”, he whispered, already shifting upright, tugging at his sweats. And that was how, ten minutes later, you were straddling him on the couch, thighs hugging his hips, skirt bunched around your waist, your knee socks brushing against his thighs as he sank deep inside you slowly— inch by inch, until you were full and snug and he was breathless beneath you.

Hyunjin exhaled a shaky moan against your shoulder, “Shit…”. You kissed his cheek— gentle, unhurried. “Focus now”, you whispered, “You’ve got three chapters to review”. But he was trembling already, jaw clenched, trying so hard not to buck his hips. Every time you shifted your weight just slightly or whispered a question into his ear, he twitched inside you, eyes fluttering shut with the effort it took to stay still.

And you? You were still— so perfectly still —settled on his lap like you belonged there. Warm, tight, pulsing around him with every shallow breath you took. It should’ve felt calming, grounding even. But it was maddening. Hyunjin had never known torture could feel like this.

His hands rested on your thighs, fingertips twitching now and then like he didn’t trust himself to move. You’d gone back to your notes, flipping pages like nothing was happening, like he wasn’t buried inside you, thick and aching, so hard it almost hurt.

He tried— fuck, he tried— to read the paragraph again, “…Chiaroscuro is a technique used in visual arts to create strong contrasts between light and dark…”, he mumbled weakly, blinking at the page. You chuckled softly, hips shifting just barely. Barely. But enough to provoke him.

His breath hitched sharply, nails digging into your skin through the thin fabric of your skirt, “Don’t”, he groaned, “Don’t do that” “Do what?”, you asked innocently, pen tapping against your lips. “That thing. That little… move”, you tilted your head, clearly amused, “I didn’t move” “You did… fuck, I felt it”. You gave him a slow smirk, leaned in close, lips brushing against the shell of his ear, “Maybe I just wanted to remind you I’m still here. Since you’re supposed to be so focused”.

He let out a low, frustrated whine— something like a laugh mixed with a desperate groan, “I can’t focus. You’re warm and wet and squeezing the life out of me just by breathing”. You kissed the corner of his jaw, soft and lingering, “Poor baby”. His hips jerked slightly, instinctive, uncontrolled, making you gasp, your hands flying to his shoulders to steady yourself, “Hyunjin!”, you scolded him.

He shut his eyes, panting now, “I said no moving”, you muttered, “You said it would help”, he replied, trying to gather himself, trying to sink into stillness again. You smiled, “It is helping. You’re learning how to practice self control” “Or you’re going to kill me”.

During the following minutes, he was so responsive— every breath a whimper, every glance at your thighs a confession he didn’t mean to make, “You’re trembling”, you teased softly, brushing his hair off his forehead. “I know”, he groaned, eyes squeezed shut. The room was quiet except for the sound of rustling paper, shallow breaths, and his occasional soft groans against your skin.

You leaned down again, whispering softly, almost cruelly, “Let’s see if you can get through three pages without twitching”. He swallowed hard, “You’re mean”. And yet he stayed inside you, trembling under your warmth, hands shaking slightly every time you shifted your weight just a little too much. And you just smiled, gently brushing your fingers through his hair while his thighs quivered beneath yours. Every muscle in him was pulled tight, vibrating with the effort to stay still— simply because you asked him to. Because he wanted to be good for you.

As your fingers were lazily toying with the ends of his hair, gently scratching his scalp, he desperately tried to finish the damn chapter. “Two pages left”, you whispered, but he barely nodded, teeth sunk into his bottom lip as his eyes skimmed over the paragraph again. You could see how hard he was trying, see the way he swallowed, slow and heavy.

And you didn’t mean to say it, but it slipped out in the quiet, “You’re so pretty like this”. His eyes shifted up to meet yours instantly, “What?”. You blinked, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “I said: you’re pretty when you’re trying so hard not to lose it”. His breath hitched again, jaw clenching, “You can’t just say stuff like that” “Why not?” “Because I’m already about to lose my mind. You say things like that and I…”. He trailed off, eyes fluttering closed out of frustration, “I don’t know what to do with it”.

You leaned closer, mouth just barely brushing his, “You let yourself feel it”. His eyes opened again, “Why you always do that?”, he said quietly. “Do what?” “Say things like it’s nothing. Like you don’t know what you do to me”. His voice cracked just slightly on the last word, and something in your chest tightened, “I know”, you whispered, “I do”.

And then it hung in the air thicker than the silence before it.

“I like you,” he said, suddenly, “Fuck, I’ve liked you for so long”. You blinked slowly, “I try to act like it’s casual,” he went on, fingers curling around your waist, “but I look at you and I just… I want everything. Not just this. Not just the heat or the tension or the way you whisper in my ear like it’s a joke”.

You stared at him without even being able to breathe, “I want all of it”, he said. “Your body in my bed late at night and your voice in my kitchen by the morning making me coffee. I want to know what you look like when you’re in love”. You blinked again, now harder, heart pounding so loud you could barely hear yourself think.

“I thought we were just classmates,” you began, “Yn…”, he said gently, “It was never like that”. There was nothing playful in his gaze anymore. You swallowed thickly, fingers slipping into his hair again, tugging him just slightly closer, “Then maybe”, you whispered, brushing your lips against his, “We should just not play pretend anymore”

You were the one who moved first. His mouth was on yours, open and hungry, the kiss deep and needy. Your hips rolled down hard, and he whimpered, sounding high, broken, desperate. His hands clawed at your waist, your back, eyes wide and glossy as you moved again, slowly grinding down until he was gasping under you. “Please”, he gasped, “Please, I… fuck, I can’t…” “Shhh”, you cooed, threading your fingers into his hair, tugging gently, “Be good and let me ride you”.

He nodded frantically, hands clinging to you like you were the only thing tethering him to earth. You set a slow, deep rhythm, letting him feel every inch of you, moaning sweetly at how perfectly he fits inside you. Hyunjin was gone beneath you, his eyes fluttering, lips parted, moaning softly every time your fingers brushed his skin, every time your body squeezed tighter around him.

You kissed him hard, messy and hot, swallowing the shaky whimper he made when you clenched around him on purpose. His hands slid under your shirt, fingers playing across your bare back, pulling you closer against him, chest to chest. The room felt thick with heat now, his breath ragged in your ear, his voice wrecked. You tangled your fingers in his hair, forehead pressed to his, feeling every tremble in his breath. Your name spilled from his mouth like a mantra, over and over, until his voice was raw and you were gasping with him, chasing the end together.

He whimpered— just softly, the sound barely escaping his lips. You pressed a slow kiss to the corner of his mouth, “Tell me if you want me to stop”. He shook his head quickly, “No, please… don’t”, his voice cracked on the last word. You smiled gently and reached between your bodies, stroking the part of him that didn’t quite fit inside you. His hands clenched into fists on either side of the couch, knuckles white as you drive him insane.

His head fell back, throat exposed, quiet moans caught in his chest, “You’re so good for me”, you praised softly. “I bet you’ve thought about this before,” you continued, still rocking slowly, just enough to make him see stars, “Me riding you quietly. Sitting pretty and warm on your cock while you try to pretend you’re not falling apart”. “I- I did,” he confessed, breath catching, “I’ve thought about it so many times… shit….” “I know you have”. You leaned in, tongue tracing the shell of his ear, “And now look at you. Just a desperate little thing under me”.

Something in him snapped at that— his hands flew to your hips, but not to guide, not to take control, just to hold. To beg, silently, for more, “You want to cum?”, you asked, voice thick with lust. He nodded quickly, face flushed in a deep red, “Beg for it, then” you whispered. He whined again, hips twitching helplessly beneath you, “Please… please let me… I need it”, he gasped, “I need you… I can’t hold it anymore…” “Then cum for me”, you breathed against his lips, clenching down around him just enough to send him over the edge.

He shattered beneath you with a broken cry, body trembling violently as he spilled inside you, clinging to your hips like he’d fall apart if he let go. You held him close, riding out the aftershocks, kissing his neck tenderly, fingers stroking his hair damp with sweat as he collapsed beneath you. “You did so well”, you whispered against his skin, “So sweet for me”. And he just nodded, dazed and dizzy, still buried deep inside you, still full of you, barely able to breathe, but glowing with something soft and blissed out, like he’d just experienced something sacred— like he’d give anything to stay just like this a little longer.

You stayed curled on his lap, his arms still wrapped around your waist, both of you warm and breathless and trembling in the silence. Neither of you spoke for a long moment, just breathing, heartbeats tangled, skin flushed and slick and trembling in the quiet aftermath.

And then, softly, he spoke again, “I meant it”, he whispered, “Every word”. You kissed him gently, forehead to forehead, “I know. Me too”.

And that was it. No more pretending. Just tangled bodies, warm skin, and the quiet knowledge that something had changed— not just between your bodies, but in the tender space between your hearts.

The door swung open and students spilled out of the room, going different directions as you kept chewing on your lip, making your eyes big and teary for when he comes out.

Professor Hwang leaned on the door frame, his eyes travelling from your feet to your face as he scanned your fidgeting body.

"Come in, Y/n." he said, his face stern and unreadable.

You scurried inside, following him as he already made his way to his table.

"Lock the door." he ordered, sitting down in his chair and spreading his legs a little.

You gulped, your eyes falling to his lap before you swiftly turned around and closed the door, locking them after that.

"Come here." he beckoned you with his finger and you neared his table.

Professor Hwang stared at your bare thighs for a moment, licking his lips before he looked up at you.

"So, what happened? I thought you were listening to my lectures." he started, taking your test out and placing it on the table, his big hand splayed over it as he stared at you intently.

"I-I do listen." you stuttered quietly, blinking your eyes at him.

"If you did, you wouldn't be in this predicament right now. You're always my best student. I was expecting more from you and you disappointed me." he talked and tears brimmed in your eyes.

You opened your mouth to apologize but he kept talking.

"Were you distracted, hm? Maybe by a boy?" he smirked, leaning closer to you as you stood there playing with your fingers.

Professor Hwang sucked his bottom lip in as he glanced at your thighs again, his eyes travelling up to your chest pressed in the tight little shirt you had on.

"N-no! No I wasn't, I swear." you squirmed in place, shifting your weight from one foot to the other.

"No?" he taunted you with a smirk.

"I-I'm sorry." you whispered, gulping.

"Oh yeah? How sorry are you?" he asked.

"Very, very sorry." you answered and he let out a chuckle, his hand reaching towards the drawer inside the table.

"Very, very sorry?" he repeated your words as he rummaged through the drawer, obviously looking for something.

"Yes, I swear." you nodded.

You shivered in anticipation as he paused, eyes raking all over your frame again. Suddenly his arm swiped over the table, pushing the contents of it and making them clatter on the floor. You jolted from the sudden movement, a little gasp escaping your lips as your professor pulled out the pointer he used sometimes during lectures.

You stared at the item in his hand then looked up at his face as he stood up, hovering over you.

"Bend over." he pointed to the table.

"W-what?" you stuttered.

"Don't make me repeat myself." he looked at you sternly as he tapped the table with the pointer.

You swallowed and shifted past him, standing in front of the table and staring at it before you slowly bended over, laying your upper body on the hard wood.

"I wanna see how sorry you really are." he smirked as he stood behind you and you pressed your cheek against the table, trying to look back at him.

Professor Hwang bunched your skirt up in his hand and then lifted it up to reveal your bare ass.

"No panties?" he chuckled, his hand gripping the skirt tighter.

A flush of embarrassment washed over you as you squirmed.

"Stay still." he warned you before pressing the pointer against your ass.

A shiver ran up your spine, settling on the back of your neck as your hairs stood up. Your heart started pumping fast against your chest, nails digging into the wood as you anticipated.

"I think you need to be taught a lesson. Don't you agree, my little bunny?"

Your pussy clenched at the nickname as you gasped.

"Y-yes." you were already fighting for a breath.

"Yes what?"

"Yes, I need to be taught a lesson." you whimpered and he chuckled at your compliance, removing the pointer away and waiting for a few seconds before he struck down, the cane making contact with your supple flesh.

"Ah!" you yelped, your thighs rubbing together instantly.

"Count." he growled at you before striking your backside again.

"T-two!" you whimpered and he laughed, repeating the process.

"Three!" you counted, digging your nails further into the table as professor Hwang whipped your ass.

You were crying, tears running down your cheeks as you counted and whimpered in pain and arousal as he showed no mercy on your poor flesh.

The more he struck you, the wetter you got, your arousal now dripping and smearing on your inner thighs. Professor Hwang could see it and smell it and it made his pants uncomfortably tight.

He threw the pointer aside after you counted to fifteen, his middle pressing into your ass, making you feel his hard erection pressed against your warmth.

"Look what you did, naughty girl." his hand tangled in your hair and he pulled your head back, rubbing against you and you whined loudly.

"I- I'm sorry!" you cried out as he grinded into you before leaning back and giving you a few more spanks with his hand, making your backside sting even more.

"Again with the apologies." he tsked. "I'm not sure that you're actually sorry, bunny."

"Yes I am, I swear!" you trembled when his fingertips ghosted around your core.

"For some reason I don't believe you. I think you're lying and you did badly on purpose." professor Hwang leaned over you, whispering in your ear as his fingertips ran over your wet folds.

You gasped, opening your mouth to speak but he cut you off.

"Naughty girl wanted to be punished by her professor, is that right?" he pushed your legs apart with his feet before plunging two of his fingers inside you.

You had nothing to say, because of course he knew. You only moaned as he pumped his fingers inside you.

"You don't wanna answer, little bunny?" he pulled his fingers out, only the tips touching you, teasing you.

"I do. I do." you panicked, thinking he'd pull away when you needed him so much.

"Tell me the truth then. And I just might go easy on you." he smirked.

You gulped, looking up at him as he hovered over you, his fingers toying with your clit.

"I did it on purpose." you confessed.

He let out a laugh and shook his head.

"Aren't you just a desperate little slut? Playing with your academic success to get under me. Pathetic." he tsked, mocking you as he pushed his fingers inside you again.

You whimpered, leaning back into his touch as your eyes fluttered.

"Answer me!" he growled, grabbing a fistful of your hair.

"Yes, I'm a desperate slut!" you cried out, fresh tears spilling out your eyes.

"How desperate are you for me, bunny?" he stopped all movement, suddenly pulling away from you and you whined at the emptiness and the cold breeze coming from the window.

"So desperate." you said as he pulled you up and then sat down on his chair, spreading his legs and beckoning you to come closer.

"Prove it." professor Hwang smirked.

You swallowed before getting down on your knees on the hard floor and he bit on his lip, looking at you with a stern look in his face and his brows furrowed as your shaky hands unbuttoned his pants.

He kept quiet, just observing you as you fumbled with the zipper and pulled his pants down with his boxers. His cock slapped against his stomach, the tip red and angry.

"You did that bunny." he smirked a little as you scooted closer to him.

Your pussy clenched at his words as you leaned in and tentatively licked at the pre-cum on his tip. You wrapped your lips around him and his hands grabbed at you hair, creating a makeshift ponytail as you sucked on him, taking him in more.

"Aren't you just so cute like this?" he asked more rhetorically while you swallowed as much of his length as you could, your small hand wrapping around the rest that couldn't fit.

Professor Hwang couldn't help the little moans escaping his lips because you knew exactly how to drive him crazy.

"That's enough." he pulled you off after a while, slapping your cheek with his dick. "You should be thankful I even let you do that."

"Thank you, sir." you batted your eyelashes at him and his cheeks flushed. He was weak for you when you'd call him that.

"Come sit." he ordered and you were eager to obey as you scrambled to your feet and hovered over him. You grabbed the base of his cock and pressed it against your entrance, letting the tip slip in before you slid down completely, burying him inside your warmth, your thighs flush against his.

"You expect me to do all the work?" he lifted his brow as you squirmed on top of him.

"I- I-" you were stuttering again, your pussy gripping him.

"You didn't do any work for your test so make it up to me, bunny." he ordered and you placed your hands on his shoulders and gripped, steadying yourself before you started bouncing on his cock.

"Harder." he ordered and your nails dug into his flesh as you pressed your feet against the floor and bounced harder, fucking yourself on his cock.

"Fuck." he groaned as he looked at your breasts, his length twitching inside you.

He ripped your shirt open, making you gasp when his hands grabbed at your tits, a smirk on his lips as you weren't even wearing a bra.

"All ready for me to take, hm?" he smirked as you moaned and shook against him, fucking yourself harder as his tip kept hitting your sweet spot.

"Y-yes, always." you whined as he grabbed at your breasts roughly, pinching and pulling on your nipples.

You cried out and came, exploding around his cock and squeezing him like you never wanted to let go.

"Fuck, my naughty bunny!" he growled and gripped your hips before fucking up into you and knocking the breath out of your lungs.

"H-Hyunjin!" his name had slipped out in your cloudy state and that was enough for him to grip you tightly and cum inside you, the warmness filling you up and making your eyes roll back.

Your arms wrapped around him as you tried to catch your breath and he pressed his forehead against your shoulder, his hands grabbing at your backside, massaging you gently and trying to soothe the pain.

"Think you learned your lesson now, bunny?" he lifted his head up to look at you, his hand coming up to put a strand of your hair behind your ear.

"Maybe I need some more tutoring." you winked and he shook his head.

"More, hm?" he smirked then, his hands cupping your breasts and running over your nipples. You clenched around his spent cock instantly and he noticed.

"Yeah well, you're the best professor, I love learning from you." you teased and Hyunjin laughed, throwing his head back.

You stood up, feeling his cum trickling down your inner thigh.

"Then I'll give you some more private lessons." he stood in front of you, hand between your leg as his fingers gathered his juices and brought them to your lips. You wrapped them around his digits and sucked, keeping eye contact with him as you swirled your tongue around and tasted both of your arousal.

"I'm looking forward to that." you said lowly as he stared darkly at you.

Hyunjin grabbed your face and kissed you passionately, his tongue tasting you before he pulled back.

"See you tonight for our dinner date, bunny." he smirked when you both adjusted your clothes.

"See you, professor." you winked, blowing him a kiss before you left the classroom.

Yes, dating your professor was forbidden, fucking him in the classroom even more so but forbidden things always seem more delicious, don't they?

“It deserves better than just good!” You insist, convinced that he has the worst taste on planet Earth. “C’mon. At least put it up a tier.”

“Next to My Neighbor Totoro? Fuck no.”

“Fuck you!”

“Woah woah woah, language,” Jisung replies cheekily, and you grumble, tipping back to sink your head into the cushions of your best friend’s couch. If he even is your best friend after this anyways.

You and Jisung have been hanging out at his apartment for hours, chatting about basically anything and everything. It’s an especially exciting night; his roommate is out visiting family for the weekend, meaning the two of you have the whole place to yourselves.

“Don’t make a mess,” Minho had said through the phone. “I don’t want to clean up once I get back home.”

So far, you’ve had halfhearted success in baking cinnamon rolls, little-to-no success cooking dinner, and full success in ordering barbeque chicken. The kitchen had barely survived through it all, but aside from an occasional utensil on the floor it’s pretty clean.

Aside from your cooking ventures, you two have taken it upon yourselves to rank all the Studio Ghibli movies on a tierlist. Some of his takes surprise you, maybe frustrate you— but none of them fill you with such rage as seeing Ponyo in B-Tier.

“When was the last time you watched this movie?” You ask, almost demand. Jisung pretends to think for a moment; his soft lips pursing together in contemplation.

“Uhh… when I was twelve.”

“Oh for fuck's sake,” You reach over to his laptop and grab it, typing furiously to find a pirated URL for the movie. “We’re watching Ponyo tonight. No buts.”

“Fine,” Jisung says, extending the ‘e’. Out of the corner of your eye you spot him picking up the empty plastic containers of your dinner. He pouts, lips jutting out exaggeratedly when he finds the tins utterly empty. “Aww man, no more food. I’ll go see if there’s any leftovers in the kitchen.”

“Okay,” You idly reply, too busy trying to bypass the stupid ad pop-ups on his computer. You mash a couple of buttons, open and close a few tabs, and boom, you’re in.

Meanwhile, Jisung has gone and returned from the kitchen. In his hands he holds a random box of chocolates that he tosses into your waiting hands. “Found these in the back of the pantry. Probably Minho’s.”

You open the cardboard flap and dig your hand inside, pulling out a rectangle-shaped chocolate wrapped in pretty red tinfoil. You don’t care to read the name—the room is too dimly lit to see anyway—and rip open the package, finding two square chocolates waiting for you.

“Huh,” You comment, holding up the two chocolate pieces. “I’ve never seen chocolates that come in twos before.”

A hand snatches one of the chocolates away and you turn to see Jisung chewing. His adams apple bobs as he swallows. “Mmm, cherry. You should try it.”

You glance at the singular square held between your fingertips, and shrug before popping it in your mouth.

An hour later, you and Jisung are curled up together watching Ponyo. From glances and little remarks here and there, he seems to be enjoying it, and thank god he does. You couldn’t stand seeing Ponyo be misplaced any longer.

During a particularly captivating underwater scene, you reach for the box of chocolates—only to find the insides empty. You blink for a moment, tearing your eyes away from the screen, and realize you and Jisung have eaten them all.

“Aww,” Your eyebrows furrow in annoyance, but you remove yourself from the pile of blankets to toss the box in the trash. Your best friend remains engrossed in the movie, only shifting to adjust his glasses.

You think to check the brand on the box before you throw it away. It would be nice to get again, after all. The chocolates tasted pretty good—

“Jisung.”

The serious tone of your voice jerks your best friend back into reality, and he hurries to pause the movie. His gaze flickers up to yours with a slight level of concern. “What’s up?”

“These chocolates…” You audibly gulp, and your mind swims from reading the label on the box. “I don’t think these are regular ones.”

“Then what are they?” Jisung crawls over from his side of the couch and leans over your shoulder. His breath tickles your neck as he speaks. “Weed?”

You point to the packaging. It’s sensually decorated, with elegant lettering and a good number of red hearts littering the front. Right in the center are two words: aphrodisiac chocolate.

Jisung’s eyes bulge wide open and he blinks several times. “Sex chocolate?!”

“Yeah,” You let out a breathless, winded chuckle. Your eyes are equally as wide as his. “How many did we eat?”

Over the next minute, you and Jisung rummage around the couch and collect as many wrappers as you can. With each find, you’re more and more flabbergasted—assuming you two had an equal amount, you can say that you probably had ten to twelve chocolates…each.

“Holy shit,” is the only thing he can say for the next minute. You check the back of the box and discover more lovely news: the recommended amount is one to three squares per person.

There’s silence for the next couple of minutes after that.

The two of you must look so stupid, crouching over copious candy wrappers, dumbfounded by your dual idiocy. What the fuck were you going to do?

Jisung attempts to answer that question in breaking the silence. “So essentially…we’re gonna get super horny.”

“Yeah,” You respond, wincing. “I’m kind of trying not to think about that right now.”

“Well- I mean- You- I- ugh,” Jisung rubs his temples sorely. For once he’s completely serious, no giggles, no jokes. It concerns you as much as it frightens you. “How long until it kicks in?”

“A few hours, it says.”

“Any way to reverse the effects?”

“We already ate the chocolates, Sungie. I don’t think we can get them out.”

“Fuck,” He stares at the empty container. “What are we gonna do then?”

You open your mouth to respond and find it dry. Suddenly you’re hyperaware that in an undisclosed amount of time, both you and your best friend will be incredibly horny. In an apartment together, with no distractions. Just you and him.

You’re tempted to run for the hills. Grab your bag and race home to deal with it all on your own, rather than face this volatile situation and the can of worms that is your undeniable attraction to a man you swore never to date. It feels like the better situation for a split second; enough for you to place one foot on the ground in an effort to stand up from the couch.

Jisung’s head whips up immediately, and the panicked, almost desperate flash in his eyes freezes you in place. It’s almost a plea, a look that stirs something deep in your gut: Please. Don’t go.

You sit back down.

“So…wanna watch the rest of Ponyo?”

By the end of the movie, Jisung moves Ponyo up to A-tier. Normally you’d gloat in his face and criticize his judgmental movie taste—but you can’t seem to get the thought of the chocolates out of your head. It doesn’t help that he's uncomfortably close, his hoodie brushing up against your shoulder with every breath.

He doesn’t say anything as he shuts the laptop, doesn’t look at you as he leans back on the couch. His eyes are distant. Unfocused, dazed like you’ve only seen when he’s dead drunk.

You only need to wonder why for a moment before you notice just how burning hot you are.

Your shirt tightly sticks to you like a vice, and your head fogs like smoke filling the air. The thick pulse in your chest can’t seem to subside, and you feel your skin heat up more with every second that passes.

One sensation rushes in even stronger, an ache from your lower half. Your thighs squeeze together involuntarily, feeling for some sort of relief, any sort of relief. God, you’ve never wanted a dick more in your entire life.

And your best friend happens to be sitting right across from you with one.

Shit. No. You can’t think that way about him; you shouldn’t look. He’s your best friend—but your gaze moves on its own and hones in on the very obvious bulge in his sweatpants.

You glance upwards. Jisung’s cheeks are flushed. A bead of sweat trails down his forehead. He can’t seem to stop swallowing. His pretty dark eyes are not trained on yours but on the way your thighs press against each other for friction. He stares as if he’s devouring you whole.

“Jisung?” You say softly, your voice almost hoarse in your throat. There is no need to whisper. It’s just you and him, in his apartment together, alone.

“…Yeah?”

“Are you feeling it too?”

Jisung still can’t seem to look you in the eyes. He nods, slowly.

You crawl closer.

“Fuck,” He sputters out breathlessly. His hand reaches up to shakily adjust his glasses. Sweat seems to drip down the side of his face and off his chin. He wipes it away.

You inch closer, and with every shuffle you hear Jisung’s breath grow more ragged. His hands move all over himself— adjusting the gray sweatpants you want to ruin so badly, make a mess all over and cum on, brushing away the same strand of hair over and over. He still can’t seem to look at you.

Finally, you arrive right in front of him. You sit with your legs spread wide, your shorts doing little to cover up the arousal starting to drip down your thigh. Your knees, planted on the couch cushion, brush against his legs. His breath stops.

You reach up and gently grab ahold of his chin. Slowly, you turn his head so he comes face to face with your equally flushed face.

“Oh my god.”

In an instant, Jisung’s lips press against yours; he practically climbs on top of you, pinning you down into the furniture. His arms reach and wrap around whatever he can as he drinks from the taste of your lips in a dizzying rhythm. It’s insistent, messy, desperate. Your mouths move in a tangled dance, hoping each to swallow the other whole.

His fingers find the bottom hem of your shirt and hook underneath it to tug it up. You oblige and revel in each and every touch you can get.

Your shirt is shoved above your breasts, and Jisung doesn't bother to unclasp your bra—opting to move the fabric aside instead. He breaks the kiss to ogle at your bare chest. His eyes are lidded and you swear that his pupils are heart-shaped, and he sighs, almost dreamily. Like he's seen a piece of heaven.

“God, you're fucking beautiful,” He mutters from above you. “I'm sorry, I just can't....”

His words send a rush of heat straight to your core, and you whine. Next thing you know, he has his hands on your knees and spreads your legs apart so he can slot himself between them.

The friction of his pants against your clothed clit makes you keen—usually you aren't so sensitive, if not for those chocolates. Every sensation seems to be heightened.

"Sungie~" You whimper as Jisung rocks his hips against yours, your legs wrapping around his waist. He leans down to capture your lips in his once more, hungry for the hints of chocolate he tastes.

Everything is sloppy and coordinated; he grinds into you like a bunny in heat, groaning at every bit of friction between his gray sweatpants and your cotton shorts. It's hot and stuffy, but you've never felt so good in your life.

"Feel so good, shit-" Jisung mumbles between messy kisses. His glasses are fogged and hanging half off his nose, but he couldn't care less. "Wanna fuck you so badly- you want that? Want me to fuck you- ah, god~ like you deserve?"

Jisung shoves his head down into your chest, burying himself between your two mounds as he presses up on you from below. He kisses your skin and moves slightly to suckle on your right nipple, making you keen. His soft boba eyes peek out to look up at you, dazed and sick with sticky desire.

Your cunt clenches around nothing, throbs under the way Jisung's clothed cock hits your clit repeatedly. You want him to fuck you so bad, need your best friend's dick to split you open.

"Fuck me please," You beg, your voice trembling and thoughts hazy with lust. You've never begged for a man before, but Jisung is simply different in every way. "Please, Jisung, Sungie, please-"

He audibly groans, as if the sound of your voice gets him any closer to heaven. He wrenches himself away from your cunt to slip down his pants just enough for his thick, veiny cock to slip out. Meanwhile, you can't resist slipping your hand under the waistband of your shorts, to your needy wet cunt. You rub your clit with two of your fingers, whining softly at the stimulation of your swollen bud.

Suddenly, Jisung's hands wrap around the hem of your shorts and panties—he tugs them down all at once, exposing your sobbing pussy to his greedy view. You look up and his eyes are hungry, lidded and clouded with want, zeroed in on your cunt. You think he might be drooling.

Jisung hurries to press his cock against your wetness. He's shaky, almost trembling as he guides his mushroom tip through your folds, his breath coming out in stutters.

Even with just the tip, it's big. You feel like you're split open, and every inch of his cock entering your pussy sends a shiver of pleasure down your spine. It doesn't even hurt with how wet it is, and he slides in like warm butter. He practically collapses onto you as soon as he bottoms out, his head buried in your neck.

His cock twitches inside you, and you realize through the haze that Jisung isn't moving. He's whining softly, breathlessly, but his hips do little more than tremble.

"Jisung-"

"Don't," He shushes you. His voice is raspy and desperate, and he mouths at your neck between words. "I-I'm trying not to cum."

You whine, wanting any sort of friction—but Jisung doesn't budge. Then you squirm a little, just to feel it a little more, and both of you let out audible moans. He grabs your hips roughly to hold you in place.

"F-fuck-" He swears, and there's a growl in the back of his throat. "Are you trying to get me to cum inside?"

The idea of his cum filling you up sends a rush through your bones. You inadvertently clench around him, and the grip on your hips becomes so strong it might bruise.

"Y-you want it that bad? Fine then. Fucking take it."

Jisung starts a relentless pace; he groans into your neck and holds your hips down so you take every inch of him with every thrust. His tip brushes up against your cervix sweetly, and you keen, your hands tangling into his black hair.

"You're so wet baby-" He mutters, stamping in a word between rough thrusts. "So. Fucking. Tight. God, bet no one has made you feel this good, huh? Say it."

You can barely find the words, letting punched-out moans every time his cock kisses your cervix. "Y-you're the only one, Ji!"

"That's it," He says, his pace speeding up impossibly faster. He's hardly going in a pattern, just bunny fucking into you like there's no tomorrow. "This pussy belongs to me, doesn't it? All mine~"

Jisung changes his grasp; he gets a hold of your thighs and spreads them so he can fuck you deeper. It's a welcome change—and you remove one hand from his hair to clamp over your mouth, your moans becoming unabashedly noisy. Your eyes squeeze shut and roll back behind your eyelids. "O-oh Jisung, that feels good-"

"Baby, baby please, I gotta cum- gonna cum inside, want that? You want that?" He says, and his hand shakily moves to rub his palm against your clit.

You cry out, about to tip over the edge. You want it more than you've ever wanted anything in your life. "P-please!"

Jisung groans loudly, not bothering to muffle the noise as he cums inside. You cum at the same time, whimpering into his tangled-up hair. His hips stutter but they don't halt; he fucks his cum into you lazily. You whimper at the sensation of his warm cream filling your insides. It's messy and deliciously wet.

"Jisung," You mumble out, still feeling a burning ache. You're addicted to the pull of his cock inside your walls. "I- I want-"

He interrupts you with a groan; then his hips begin to pound into you once more, moaning into the skin of your neck. He simply can't stop, even when you let out a high-pitched cry.

"I'm sorry baby- just had to. Your pussy is sucking me in-" Jisung grunts. His voice is nearly drowned out by the wet squelch of every thrust into your creamy cunt. "Just one more, one more, that's it~"

You feel like you're being folded in half from the way he presses you down, your thighs moving to rest on his shoulders. He ruts into you with reckless abandon, and his hands find themselves digging into the couch on either side of your head.

Jisung lifts his head up so it's right above yours, and you see him for the first time in what feels like ages. His glasses are long gone, and his lips are slightly ajar as he groans senselessly with every thrust. The pinkness of his round cheeks and the lidded pleasure in his eyes matches yours; he leans down to capture your lips in a sloppy kiss.

You moan into his mouth sweetly, and he hums in delight. There's no rhythm to the way he kisses you and fucks you—just pleasure-driven madness, desperation to feel you in every way.

"Mine," He mumbles, almost to himself as he pounds into you desperately. "Gonna cum in you again, fill you up~ my baby, all mine-"

You clench despite the tired ache in your thighs. You want him to cum in you over and over, spill his semen and let him fuck it into you again. You want him completely, irrevocably.

It's this thought that sends you over the edge for a second time; you wail, unable to make out any words as a wave of pleasure washes over you. Jisung messily kisses you throughout, muffling the sounds that escape your lips with his own.

He thrusts a few more times, groaning senselessly into your mouth before finally cumming again. Another warm sensation floods your insides and you sigh in satisfaction.

Jisung crumples onto your body and simply lays limp on top of you. Neither of you can bring yourselves to move.

"Best sex ever." He croaks out with a hoarse voice, and you laugh tiredly.

The next morning, you wake up on the couch. Jisung is laying next to you, his body tangled with yours. He stirs as you shuffle and pull yourself up from the cushions.

"Morning," You whisper, and he responds with a soft hum. His hair is adorably chaotic and worsens as he runs a hand through it. "Sleep well?"

"Yeah," He says, and sits up with a groan of pain. "God, my joints. I feel like I blew out my back."

You notice a similar soreness in your thighs, but you tease him regardless. "You old man."

"Shut up," Jisung replies with no real malice. He looks down at you with surprising affection, his boba eyes twinkling with joy. You can't help but smile at the sight.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" You say, an amused breath leaving your lips.

"Nothing," He grins cheekily. "Just that I got to have sex with my best friend who I've liked for an entire year."

You blink in shock, and Jisung giggles. "What? You're surprised?"

"No, I mean- yeah," You find yourself stumbling over your words, a pink blush appearing on your cheeks. "I mean, we did fuck yesterday, I just didn't expect you to say it so...bluntly."

"Well I did," Jisung lowers his voice to a soft whisper. He leans in close so his lips nearly brush against yours. "I like you."

"I like you too," You reply bashfully, and you can't resist kissing him. It's slow and saccharine sweet, nothing like the desperate messes you were yesterday. He sighs like a love-struck teenager as you pull away.

19:23 PM from: dni!!! Wyd? 

you swallow thickly at the sight of the text which lights up your screen, eyes zeroed in on the simple three letters which still hold thousands of words worth of meaning in themselves when combined. if it weren’t for the rubber case at the back, you reckon you would’ve dropped your phone with how instantly sweaty your palms become upon having received the message. the way you’re staring at your app, maybe even enough to bore holes into the words displayed back at you, doesn't go unnoticed either, and you barely manage to pocket the device as quick as you'd pulled it out just in time as your best friend approaches you. 

“everything okay? you look kinda pale.” aeri frowns once she’s in front of you, voice laced with concern so sweet that it almost makes bile rise up your throat as you attempt to lean back against jake’s kitchen counter to stabilise yourself. she doesn’t seem to buy the eventual shaky nodding of your head that you offer after realising she’d just asked you something that required an answer, but even if she wants to probe you further, she doesn’t, deciding to immerse you in conversation about something your other friends had told her; another one of her gossip sessions with yoon and jungwon, you presume.

her storytelling fades into background noise at some point, for you can’t ignore the heavy weight of the object tucked away in the back of your jeans, still incessantly burning and buzzing with notifications you know you shouldn’t pay half a mind to. you’re well aware that they’re all most likely from the same person; the one individual you shouldn’t and have no right to indulge and mix with to this day; whose bedsheets you’ve found yourself tangled up in late at night alongside dirty noises slipping past both your lips; the very man who remains as sin personified in the storyline of your current life, and honestly might stay that way for as long as you live.

or in other words, aeri’s ex-boyfriend, chan.

your best friend met chan in her final year of university, bumping into him on chance encounter outside her lecture hall and exchanging textbooks by accident. chan had been all smiles when she’d invited him to lunch as an apology for the mix up, often tagging along with her after that until soon enough, they grew close enough and began seeing each other romantically. he seemed to treat her well for the most part, and you were happy for aeri that she’d found a good man worth her time and effort in the world. she’d drag you with her on their outings one too many times, and you’d gotten to know him from those instances, finding him to be a decent match for her.

unfortunately, all good things come to an end, and the spark between them started dwindling. you’re not sure what exactly happened, only able to recall bits and pieces from what aeri had told you mid-sob on your calls about her previous lover slowly becoming distant nearing the final stages of their relationship, so you’ve always just thought it was a mutual decision to cut ties for the betterment of each other. according to her vividly detailed breakdowns though, chan had been the one to suggest calling it off first, and everything came to a screeching halt three years down the line with much screaming and tears from her side. to an extent, their split did shake up things a little between all your mutual friends, but it also didn’t fully stop everybody from engaging with each other. all this brings you to your current situation— waiting in jake’s apartment for the rest of your friends to arrive for a random party he’d decided to plan on a whim.

“yo, guys!” speak of the devil, you think, tugging yourself out of your thoughts as you turn your body to let jake’s figure come into view. he beams at you like a big puppy, his hair flopping in a way that loosely resembles dog ears, and you remember after a split second that that’s just how your friend is referred to as in your group; the resident golden retriever. he parades up to you and aeri as one too, his vibrant smile lighting up the atmosphere in a way that you can’t stop relief from flooding your system at his presence.

“how are my favourite girls doing this fine evening?” he smirks, his usual flirting the same as always, causing aeri to roll her eyes as you chuckle. “har har up yours, sim.” she sticks her tongue out, prompting jake to do the same as he ruffles her hair, to which she shrieks. “oh, by the way,” jake perks up as if he’s just thought of something, completely ignoring your best friend smacking him on the arm lightly over his actions. “y/n, would you be so kind as to get the pack of beer from my car?” he pleads, doe eyes twinkling under the light of the room. 

you’re about to groan in protest, not wanting to go back out in the cold and freeze your ass off for a measly few cans of alcohol, but the front door swinging open accompanied by the all too familiar voice you’ve grown acquainted to fills the air, making your stomach drop— chan. chan is here. suddenly, you’re not too opposed to getting far away, and you quickly nod your head rapidly in agreement, not bothering to wait for the way jake lights up at you accepting his proposal before snatching the keys from his hold and darting towards the lift. 

chan’s jaw tightens at this. he barely manages to catch a glimpse of you from how you rush out past him, not even able to take in your outfit or face in the dashing haze you leave in. he points his thumb to where you had exited, bluffing something about helping you when jake responds how you’d gone out to grab the load of drinks he’d been too lazy to heave upstairs himself. nobody makes any work to question him when he turns on his heel to catch the elevator himself, thinking nothing of his usual gentleman-like behaviour.

nobody except for a pair of eyes lingering on his disappearing frame that neither one of the visitors in the house manages to grasp onto.

meanwhile, you quickly find yourself in the outdoor parking lot of jake’s building, hugging your shivering body tightly in an effort to warm yourself up against the chilling wind that blows past the trees. the sky has basically turned dark by now, but the streetlamps hanging overhead on the sides of the pavement serve as enough illumination to carry out your task. your breath comes out in heavy smoke to the point you can see it, and you try your best to spot your friend’s car as soon as possible, cheering internally when you manage to do so. after having jogged on over to it, you enter the key into the trunk lock with trembling fingers, twisting it until that same latch you’ve grown used to feeling with your own vehicle opens and makes way for you to push up the boot lid. 

you’re about to hook underneath to manoeuvre it open, that is, until a sudden cold hand tugs on the bare skin of your arm, making you jump out of your own flesh. you open your mouth to yell out loud, ready to alert your friends a few floors upstairs that someone is trying to kidnap you potentially when that same hand clamps over it. only when your vision stabilises in your dimly lit surroundings do you recognise chan in front of you, and you feel your shoulders physically drop as you put down your defences, glaring at him when he removes himself.

“why the hell would you sneak up on me like that? i—“

“are you avoiding me?”

his question comes out gruff and annoyed, causing you to blink at the way he’s glowering at you in suspicion. his arms are crossed against his chest, hiding the black button-up you’ve seen him wearing and committed to memory one too many times from how it clings perfectly onto his chiselled shoulders and biceps. it makes you gulp, but you attempt to hide your affected reaction anyways, delivering a scoff in his direction which only makes chan grit his teeth at your attitude. “so what if i am? you know damn well either way without needing me to spell it out for you.” you bite back, moving to turn around when he catches you by the elbow, leaving you to scowl at him.

“what’s gotten into you? just a few days ago, we were fine, yet now you’re ignoring my texts?” he narrows his eyes, holding you in place so you can’t budge away from him. you let out a faint tch at his words, more so at your own susceptibility to succumb to his advances, but chan tongues the side of his cheek after assuming you’re just being blatantly disrespectful towards him. his voice drops to a lower, seductive tone as he speaks up again. “need me to remind you again? you came over last saturday and humped my thigh before squirting on my tong— hmph!“ 

“god, yes, i fucking remember, okay?” you exclaim in a whisper after having slapped a hand over his mouth this time, eyes darting around frantically to make sure no one heard that. “could you be any more louder? jesus christ.” chan peels you off of him shortly afterwards, his expression souring at the way you address him. something about the anger in his features makes your own rise, and you feel any or all remorse you'd experienced prior to seeing him in person today vanish, replaced with a bubbling hatred of sorts.

you and chan began your weird affiliation with one another around two months ago, exactly a few days after he and your best friend broke up. to this day, you don’t know why he made a move on you, much less why you yourself reciprocated it. sure, you’d always found him objectively attractive when he and aeri were together, and while he may be your exact match of an ideal type to a tee, you would never think to act on the growing tension you experienced for him, especially when he was in a long term commitment with the closest person in the world to you. 

it all happened in the most random of occurrences too. you still remember meeting him the night you were out at the convenience store to run errands, catching him hunched over a table in a hoodie and messy hair with two bottles of soju in front. he’d flashed you a polite smile and offered to drink together, which realistically, you should’ve declined. you should’ve turned the other way in disgust and walked out on him to tell your best friend what he’d attempted to do, regardless of whether that would’ve led to something or not. instead, you found yourself in his bed that day, moaning his name as he ravished you under the moonlight streaming through his curtains in your combined drunken craze.

the next morning had been full of hiccuped cries, chan cradling you in his arms despite the scalding touch of his hold gnashing against you and leaving metaphorical imprints that you would never be able to scrub off. each time he soothed you, rubbing your back and kissing your hair, you felt the waves of guilt wash over harsher than the last. he continued to reassure you throughout anyways, telling you it’d be okay and that no one would have to know. blindly, you’d believed him, promising yourself and him to never act on either of your arbitrary lust by not letting go of your inhibitions.

that was the first lie you told yourself. 

“y’know, i’m really not a fan of this whole backtalk towards me.” chan criticises, and you laugh bitterly after picking up on his audible disappointment as it hits your ears. “see? there it is again. maybe i’ve gotta teach you some manners, hm?” his tone is sultry once more, leaving you fighting the urge to flush under his gaze. you ultimately lose though, wanting nothing more than to punch him in the face with the way he snickers at your cheeks reddening crimson. instead, you try retain the little dignity you have left as you push against his chest, scanning your parameters with paranoia when he steps closer to you.

“we can’t.” you mumble, clearly slipping. chan’s only response to that is a breathless huff, warm against your face as you peer up at him through your lashes, finally getting a good look at him. he’s wearing his signature hoop earrings today, hair brushed down so his bangs fall over his forehead. the collar of that same dress shirt he’s got on is popped despite a few buttons being undone, leaving the styling choice to highlight his collarbone. that same milky skin you’ve ghosted your nails over multiple times hides underneath the black fabric, leaving you to shiver at the memories of it. it also doesn’t help that the way he towers you is sending your mind reeling into submission way too easily, and you only manage to shake out of it when his fingers trail down to wrap around your wrist, allowing you to feel the cold metal of a ring you recognise all too well press into your joint—

the same half of a promise ring you’d helped him pick out for aeri a year ago.

the realisation that he’s still wearing it hits, and combined with the once again forming shame in the back of your head, it all makes you want to shove him away in favour of storming out of here to tell your best friend everything once and for all. a part of you can sense undue jealousy simmering inside at the fact that he’s still got a piece of her with him too, something you know you have no right to feel, but you try ignore it to your best ability. “chan, we can’t.” you repeat with a hitch in your breath, more so for yourself than him. and yet, you don’t even believe your own words, finding the less rational and weak side of you surrendering to the temptation chan tantalises in you; it overshadows whatever morality you have left.

“d’you really want me to stop?” he breathes out, body sagging far too close into yours for it to be friendly, although you suppose none of your interactions since starting this scandalous relationship have ever been that. his fingers, the very same ones bearing the ring on them, move to wrap around your throat, forcing you to tilt your head up and lock eyes with him. goosebumps prick your skin when you catch sight of the way his gaze is hooded, orbs swirling with black desire he’s begun to reserve only for you in these coming weeks. “because, if you want me to stop, i will.” chan points out. “say the word and i’ll turn around. out of sight, out of mind.” he makes a statement out of it by retracting his hand from you, but the very distinct whine you let out is all the confirmation he needs to press his mouth to yours.

kissing chan always feels like playing with fire. it scorches, and singes, and sears, reducing you to a burnt crisp, yet you can’t help but yearn for the flame he ignites in you. even the way he’s clutching onto you now, pressing forward with a fervour only you bring out in him, has his lips moulding against your cherry stained ones despite not fitting as perfectly as you’d want them to. the two of you are by no means a compatible match for each other; neither of you has made a single good decision ever since you began indulging in whatever you’ve got going on, but you also can’t help but crave the scandalous nature of everything. you’re truly a despicable pair, you think.

“get in the car.” chan’s voice cuts through your thoughts when he pulls away. he doesn’t even give you time to think when he walks over and opens the door, gesturing inside to the warm confines of the backseat. ideally, you shouldn’t, you know you shouldn’t, but alas, you’ve never been one to listen to yourself, instead finding your legs scrambling and following suit to shuffle into jake’s vehicle before the weight of your actions even sinks in. chan’s hot on your trail too, and before you can even get comfortable in the cramped space, he’s returning to making out with you, fingers roaming greedily around the expanse of your skin. 

“t-they’ll know we’re gone.” you stutter, moving your face out of his reach to try and stop chan’s movements when it finally dawns on you that your friends had sent you out on an errand you’d taken far too long to complete by now. chan’s only response is to grunt though, tugging you back in for another smouldering kiss that knocks the wind out of your lungs. his hands grasp, pinch, and squeeze whatever part of you they can, until he’s finally decided that he’s had enough foreplay, opting to cage you underneath him and hike up the tight, red dress that’s adorning your body for today’s occasion. “i’ll be quick. i always am.” he winks, and you’re too far gone now to understand that he’s responding to your previous comment, a fact that only makes him chuckle.

“wore this to tease me, yeah?” chan clicks his tongue at the way he has to practically peel off the bottom half of your clothing, the snug fit of the fabric around your curves leaving nothing to the imagination as he bites his lip. he debates whether he’s glad you chose this outfit to show off for him, or if that pisses him off because it means everybody gets an eyeful of your figure; he decides on the latter. “wanted to slut yourself out for my attention? all you had to do was ask, baby.” you shake your head with a whimper, and he raises an eyebrow at your reaction. “d-didn’t.. didn’t wear it for you.” you manage to breathe out, which proves to be the wrong answer because next thing you know, his hand is coming down to smack your clothed core.

you yelp at the sting of his actions, teary eyes blinking up at him in a way that makes chan’s boxers tighten. he’s so close to losing his composure, but he holds back for your sake, not wanting to let you see his cool slip. “is that so? i guess you’re just a dirty girl then.” he sneers, yanking down your soaked panties in one swift motion, leaving you to gasp as the cool air hits your sticky folds.

chan wastes not even one second, knobby digits dragging through the wetness he’s not surprised to find whatsoever. he spreads it over your clit, getting you messier than you already are, especially from the way you appear to leak even more arousal from his movements. he touches you until you’re twitching under his hold, biting back the sounds that threaten to escape you, which seems to be a fact he doesn’t approve of from the way he pinches your nub between his fingers; you cry out softly from the rush of stimulation it shoots through you. “eyes on me.” chan growls, sliding his hand down to circle your oozing hole before he’s abruptly shoving two fingers inside.

“fuck.” you moan this time, loud and clear. this seems to satisfy him, seeing as he rewards you with a steady pump of his digits thrusting into your heat. his speed in fingering you increases quickly, and it isn’t long before he’s scissoring you open, the sloppy sounds of your juices slicking up his fingers and echoing in the stuffy space of jake’s car. you’re probably staining the leather of the seats, but neither you nor chan seem to care about that right now, not when he’s knuckle deep inside your wet cunt and you’re making such pretty noises all for him.

“just filthy, aren’t ya? getting finger fucked in the back of your friends car. i bet your dumb little brain can’t even understand what i’m saying right now.” chan mocks, his tone laced with a level of condescension that only makes you buck your hips up to chase his movements. you know he’s completely right too, because the way he’s thrusting his digits inside you, stroking your warm walls with the tips of them has you seeing stars to the point you can’t even respond back something snarky in return. “all you’re good for is being a nasty toy for sir’s use, hm?” you barely even register his question, only remembering you need to answer him when he pulls his wet hand away to smack you once more, this time over your swollen bundle of nerves.

“y-yes, sir. only a toy for you. jus’ you.” you mindlessly slur out, and chan groans at that. not even a moment passes before he’s sinking his fingers back inside you, curling them up to massage that rough spot which always has you clenching down on him. his expression twists to a smug one when you jerk forward instantly. bingo, he thinks. “that’s that spot there, yeah? the one that has you losing yourself on me?” he coos, but his voice drips with a smidge of venom you can’t quite fixate on just yet. instead, you nod dumbly, spasming around him as you try grind upwards to chase the rising sensation of your climax. 

chan leans into your frame, one hand splayed flat onto jake’s backseat above your head to maintain his balance whilst his body hovers over you. by now, your eyes are clenched shut, but he can’t even find it in him to get mad at you over that, not when you’re dribbling down his wrist and mewling so pretty under the glow of the night as he works you towards your orgasm. “c’mon, baby. cum f’me. wanna see you cum so pretty for sir.” he encourages, jaw locked with concentration. 

it only takes about one or two flicks of his expertly trained thumb pressing on your puffy clit, combined with the pads of his fingers hitting your g-spot with terrifying accuracy, before you’re shuddering through your climax. a small, clear stream of liquid sprays out the sides of where he’s got you plugged up, and he pulls his hand away in favour of rubbing you over to coax out the last remnants of your high. your quivering body thrashes when he tries to draw out the remaining few droplets again, weakly bringing your arm up to push him away gently when the shocks of overstimulation begin to take over. chan dips down to place one, final kiss on your lips, smooching down to your chin as a way to say you did well. his actions make you heart beat out of your chest, but you don’t say anything about the domesticity of them. 

you wonder if he ever treated aeri like this after having been intimate with her.

“go in first. i’ll clean up the car.” chan clears his throat after a short while, not daring to make eye contact with you as he quietly pulls your underwear back up your legs. you watch in silence while he sits up, looking for a rag to fix the mess you two made when that same awkward air you’ve gotten used to facing with him enters the atmosphere, leaving you to try and ignore how it tugs at the strings of your soul as you give a curt nod. “don’t forget the beer.” you remind him before swinging the door open to step outside, finding yourself back in the nipping cold of the winter night.

you try and stand on your wobbly legs to straighten out the creases of your dress, paying no mind to the way your skin echoes with the ghost of chan’s previous touch. behind you, you can hear him rolling down the windows to let the musky smell of sex out of jake’s backseat, and you almost dare to sneak a glance back until deciding against it, knowing it’ll just hurt more. instead, you close your eyes and take a deep breath, opening them to land on the small balcony of your friend’s apartment where the rest of your group seems to have already gathered from the silhouettes you can see through the foggy glass. your conscience feels heavy with the weight of the knowledge that aeri is up there too, but you brush it off, just like all the other times you have.

i didn’t do anything wrong, you tell yourself, i’m still in the clear. that’s the second lie you’ve tried to believe in these last two months. a long sigh escapes your lips at that realisation, but you bite it down when making your way back inside the building, choosing to rack your brain on what shitty excuse you’ll have to provide this time for being gone so long.

. . .

to your surprise, nobody bothers to question why either you or chan disappeared, simply whisking you back in conversation about unrelated topics when you walk in through the door a few minutes before him. as per usual, your heart still feels heavy when you watch aeri laugh at something heeseung and sieun are arguing over, but you cover it up by letting out a noise of amusement yourself, hoping it throws off any suspicion that might be directed your way. you don’t bother turning your head upon hearing jake’s delight at the sight of chan entering his apartment with the very much requested pack of beer too, deciding to force a smile at whatever point heeseung is busy making over looking back no matter how much your body itches to do so.

it’s even worse how from the corner of your eye, you can see aeri shifting uncomfortably on her feet at her ex-boyfriend’s second arrival, her expression dropping in the slightest so as to not draw attention to herself, but it’s still enough for you to notice. it only makes the weight of your actions dawn on you further, and you can’t help but let your mind wander as to what she’d say if she knew what truly went on behind closed doors. despite your best efforts to bury those thoughts beneath you though, you know there’s nothing you can do to make amends to the problems you’ve created yourself. after all, you’ve got to reap what you sow.

the party continues to kick in on full swing after that, with you and aeri both doing your best to keep your distances from chan for all too different reasons. it doesn’t help that you can feel someone’s stare raking across your figure throughout the duration of the evening, and when you finally do decide to sneak a glance in that direction with expectations of finding chan ogling you over, you’re met with a different answer—

for it isn’t you he’s busy looking at, but rather your best friend that’s been glued to your side since the beginning of the night. 

he averts his gaze as quick as he’d cast it when you catch him, seamlessly blending back in discussion with whatever nonsense changbin is rambling about this time, acting like he hadn’t just been getting an eyeful of his ex-girlfriend moments prior. you also don’t miss how he fiddles with the old ring that adorns his right hand, long fingers twisting it around the middle digit in a way that’s reminiscent of his past behaviour, or at least based on what you’d often find him doing back then. 

his actions spark a memory deep from the confines of your brain, one you wish you hadn’t remembered as the vision of chan asking you to help pick out promise rings for him and aeri crosses your mind. it was raining heavily that day, but he’d insisted that the two of you go out in secret anyways so he could buy his then girlfriend a token of his love and appreciation. he’d claimed you knew her taste the best and could therefore help in selecting a better possible gift for their upcoming anniversary than he ever could. 

you’d hesitantly agreed, and although you weren’t sure how it would all play out, you later found yourself sharing an umbrella and visiting various jewellery stores to point out all the designs you knew your closest friend would adore. chan had settled soon on a matching pair for the two of them, beaming in your direction with a bright smile that left you weak in the knees despite however much you tried to hide it. a few days later, aeri excitedly showed off her own silver band to you, buzzing about how he’d chosen the perfect present that she couldn’t wait to replace with a real one in their future; you couldn’t help then but think if he ever told her it was all your idea instead of his.

“hey, can you hold my phone?” your best friend’s voice cuts through your inner replay, and you blink in a daze to find her facing you, expression innocent. “hyunjin asked to play beer pong, and i don’t have any pockets to put it away in safely.” she explains at your confused face, but all you can do is nod as you robotically outstretch your arm to take it off of her. unfortunately or fortunately, that’s when you notice it—

the same matching ring on her hand.

aeri doesn’t pay you any attention when she drops off her device into your awaiting palm, not even realising you’re zeroed in on the jewellery that decorates her left hand with a fire burning in your eyes that you’re both ignorant of. you don’t stop gaping even when felix shakes your shoulder, asking you what you’re so fixated on before leaving you be under the impression that you’re probably just drunk out of your head. meanwhile, you’re still frozen in place, everything around you seeming to slow down.

why is chan wearing a ring he bought for his ex-girlfriend two years ago to a party he knows she’s going to be at? no, why does said ex-girlfriend also have her matching pair of the ring on her hand at a party she too is aware he’s going to be present for? much less, why are either of them hung up on each other to the point they’re carrying around reminders of their past relationship with one another? you know the answer to all these questions, but you don’t wish to sit and delve into them in fear you might throw up at the conclusion they’ll give you. instead, all you can do is squeeze the can of seltzer you’d spiked in your hand dangerously tight out of unwanted emotion, enough for some of the liquid inside to spill out. you can’t be bothered to care about it though, just like how you can’t be bothered to care about how anybody in their right mind could probably see you gawking at chan right now.

you watch as he cracks up at a joke seungmin makes, his head falling back in a fit of laughter you’ve been a happy witness or recipient of multiple times, yet this time it fills you with emotion that you don’t wish to identify in fear it’d mean something more than what you’re capable of confronting right now. even so, you can’t stop the train of questions invading your thoughts at the view in front of you. did he laugh like that with aeri? smile so wide with her? couldn’t help the joy that spread across due to her presence? maybe that’s why he came today, because he couldn’t take his mind off of her, especially seeing as he was wearing a symbol of their time spent before right now. 

but, what does that say about you in this picture? were you just a scapegoat to escape all those feelings for him? had you been one this entire time, only deluding yourself into thinking what you both had translated into a situation deeper and could potentially progress into one even more had things happened under different circumstances? the more you think, the more you feel nauseous, and you can’t stop yourself from diverting your gaze to where your best friend is, observing her concentrated face as she attempts to aim a ping pong ball into one of the lined up solo cups. your eyes involuntarily flicker to the ring on her finger once more, its evident shimmer reflecting in the light causing you to clutch your drink tighter. 

you’re not a jealous person by any means. you know your boundaries, hence you know chan isn’t yours. he isn’t an object you can own, and neither are you to him. that was the unspoken agreement you both nodded on when you got into this entire ordeal— you’re both free to see other people openly in front of aeri as long as it’s not each other, because the latter you manage in secret despite the shame that surges in you two upon doing so. it doesn’t matter if you wish to stake your claim on him, to see the marks you leave on him evident on his skin the next morning for him to show off other girls who think they stand a chance at him taking them to bed. it doesn’t matter how much your heart aches when you wake up to the blanket strewn aside from his absence, the sheets long gone cold to indicate that he’d left hours ago. it doesn’t matter how much you wish to cling onto his arm in public and profess your.. feelings for him in front of everyone else.

it simply doesn’t matter, it never did. chan’s never been yours, and he never will be anytime soon.

20:51 PM from: Myself meet me at the upstairs bathroom in five

you punch in the message before you can even think, watching it turn from delivered to read in a matter of seconds. the three dots next to chan’s side of texts appear, indicating that he’s typing, but you choose to lock your device rather than waiting like a dog to see him reply. instead, your feet lead you to your designated location, taking one step at a time leisurely as opposed to in a rush so as to not draw unwanted attention to yourself. right as you reach the door handle, your phone pings with a familiar ringtone.

20:52 PM from: dni!!! Reacted with “👍🏻” to your message

you sigh. tonight was going to be a long night.

. . .

skin slapping. heavy panting. low grunting. 

that’s all you can hear from where you’re splayed across the sink in the small confines of jake’s bathroom, aside from the occasional thumping of music booming from downstairs. if you strain your ear enough, you’ll be able to make out the lyrics to the cliche song that’s come up on shuffle, but you honestly lack the mentality to care about that right now, especially considering the way chan has your legs pushed apart in favour of drilling his length into you. each thrust is rapid and fervent in nature, seeming to knock the wind out of your lungs to the point you don’t even realise how loud you’re being until his hand comes up to shove two fingers in your mouth. “be fucking quiet.” he sneers, leaving you to drool everywhere. the only reaction he spares when you try muffle out an apology is a sickening smirk at that too. 

“needed this, didn’t you, slut? always need to be filled with some cock like a bitch in heat.” chan chuckles, but there’s a dark edge to his voice that sends shivers crawling up your spine. he presses down on your tongue with the pads of his fingers, and you can’t stop the garbling of spit choking past your lips from the way his thickness nestles deep inside you. each heavy drag of his dick against your rough walls leaves you clenching and attempting to buck your hips forward, but you can’t even manage that with the grip he has on your waist. the mere idea that all chan really needs to restrain you is the simple strength of his one hand sends your mind reeling, so much so that you don’t even realise he’s speaking to you until the hand that was previously in your mouth pulls out to slap light and wet against your cheek.

“i asked you a question, whore.” chan growls, the sound resonating warm within your stomach despite the mean undertone to it as his movements still. you blink up at him in confusion at this point, doe eyes brimming with tears that threaten to spill from the loss of pleasure in a way that has chan damn near finishing. it doesn’t help that he’s buried to the hilt currently, hissing painfully at how you squeeze down on him in involuntary instinct. for a split second, you swear you see the ridges on his face soften, and the manner in which he looms over you feels filled with more comfort than intimidation, but that smidge of emotion vanishes as soon as it arrives. “i said,” chan’s tongue swipes over his bottom lip. “do you wanna get caught?” you rapidly shake your head no at that, and chan cocks his head to the side.

“oh, really?” he muses, nails sliding over to dig into the supple flesh of your thigh, making you whine out loud. “‘cause with the way you’re making so much noise like that, i’d have assumed the opposite.” with a click of his tongue, his actions resume. luckily, all that escapes you is a loud gasp this time, an anxious clamp of your palm over your mouth barely covering up the rest of your lewdity. you wish so desperately to refute, to plead him in favour of slowing down and having some mercy, but the sensation of his bulbous cockhead slamming roughly into that one spot only sends stars in your vision and prevents your previous desires. 

your body jerks in chan’s hold even more when his same hand still lubed with your saliva finds it way between where you’re connected, leaving you to suppress a pathetic whimper that longs to bubble out of your throat as he presses the tips of his fingers to your swollen clit. his touch is harsh, filled with an overwhelming need to make you burst at the seams, but the fear that lingers in the back of your head refuses to let you fall apart so easily, not when aeri is barely a flight of stairs from your vicinity. chan decides he isn’t fond of the silence you’re giving him though, pulling out with a quiet mumble for you to get down and face the mirror. he sheaths himself back in just as quickly, setting an unforgiving pace from the seemingly more accessible position, and this time, you really can’t stop the long drawn out moan that escapes you. 

“j-just like that, yeah, baby? all those filthy noises are just for me, aren’t they?” he sounds more delirious this time, presumably drunk off the essence of this situation from the possessive gibberish he’s spouting, just like he always does in the heat of the moment. unfortunately for you, you’re no better than him, nodding furiously in agreement as you babble high-pitched and breathy. “so good, sir! s-so, so fucking good, feels so good! wan’ cum f’you, p-please. ‘m a good girl, please lemme cum, please, please, please.” small stutters spew out of you mid-sentence, but neither of you can be bothered by them, too wrapped up in the throes of all-consuming passion and contempt even to register what’s being said. 

“such a nasty, nasty girl.. getting fucked by your best friend’s ex. don’t you feel a-any shame?” chan groans almost wearily in midst of his lust-filled haze, eyes catching yours from the reflection of the mirror that’s displaying you getting absolutely wrecked right now. the sight of you so fucked up and in bliss, no coherent thought visible by the looks of your dazed expression and tongue halfway lolling out— it all has him burning with hot, rampant hunger. hunger for you, hunger to claim you. “look at yourself.” he rasps, fingers clutching at your chin to force you into meeting where he is. “look how dirty you are, fuck. what would she say about you wrapped so warm and snug around my cock? hm? think we should— ah. think we should call her in and find out?” 

the tears that were brewing in your waterline are streaming down your face by now, horrifically mimicking the disgusting manner in your wetness seeping and dripping down chan’s balls. you feel awful. downright terrible and tainted, forever branded by the searing touch of chan’s skin grazing against yours because that’s what you are, that’s what you have been for the past two months. down from the night you let him lead you into his sheets, following the countless occasions you found yourself returning there, and finally falling to now, your underwear strewn across the tiles of jake’s bathroom as you spread your legs for the same man who broke your best friend’s heart; the same man who you’ve let into yours after very consciously disregarding the repercussions of your actions. 

you’re truly a loathsome piece of work.

“think she’d like to watch me fill this pussy up? watch me shoot my load deep inside you over and over again until i’m sure it’s taken?” chan mutters, hot breath fanning against your sweaty neck. “maybe i should breed this stupid cunt full of my seed and send you back out there with it spilling past your legs. that way, every time you sit down, you’ll feel it inside you.” the mental image of his release lodged in your walls as you’re surrounded by all your friends, surrounded by the one person you’ve both been hiding from, all of them oblivious to the way he’s staked his claim on you except for the shared knowledge between you two and you two only— it has you quivering to the point you physically keen in his hold. chan, however, just laughs sadistically at your reaction. 

“you’ll feel it as a reminder of me, yeah? a reminder that you’re just as terrible as me. coming to me to get this slutty cunt stuffed even though you know you shouldn’t.” he continues to whisper. “after all, it takes two to tango, darling.” chan makes it a point to tilt his hips up in an effort to ensure his mushroom tip hits your g-spot with precise force, all the while breathlessly uttering more sickening words in your ear in hopes of fulfilling your need for relief. 

surely enough, the combination of his cock shoving itself past your opening and his guilt-inducing remarks that only make you sob harder work you up to the point of no return. all it really takes after that is one touch of his thumb to your pulsating nub to eventually have you seizing up in no time, your pussy messily tightening and gushing as your high crashes over you in large waves of ecstasy. it seems to trigger him too, because by the time you even realise you’re there, chan’s twitching and leaking spurts of thick cum inside you. there’s so much of it that it trickles past where he’s got you plugged up, and you barely comprehend yourself pushing a hand near your oozing hole to catch it on your fingertips. 

you both come to slowly, ragged breathing that fills the air growing quieter to pair with the musk of the room. chan’s gaze is still trained on you through the mirror, unreadable just like always whenever you’ve made the same mistake again, but you take the opportunity in this instance specifically to raise the hand that’s collected his seed in it to your mouth, proceeding to lick up the droplets of his excess release. even though you don’t catch his stare in the reflection, you can still feel it burning holes through your head, a fact that only leaves goosebumps rising over your skin. it’s only when you pull your hand away once more to catch the last of his remaining cum that he decides to finally interject, grabbing your palm in his coarse one with hooded eyes. they’re blown out when he tugs your back flush into his chest, the impact leaving his length pushing deeper inside, and they’re blown out when his fingers wrap around your neck to give it a slight squeeze, the little loss of oxygen making your mind spin.

“you think that’s funny? teasing me even after i just fucked you? after i left my mark on you and made sure you know that you’re mine?” chan murmurs, lips sultrily ghosting the shell of your ear. you want to fixate on what he’d addressed you as, let it marinate in your thoughts and brood over it for the next weeks to come even if it was just an absentminded slip of the mouth, but your focus is interrupted by the moving of his hips against yours picking up once more. the previously repeated actions send his dick driving into you again, breaching your cervix and pressing deliciously into every nook and cranny in a way that has you nearly losing your footing, but chan is quicker to hold you up with his free hand. “w-wait, ‘m still sensitive.” you manage to tremble out at a particularly well-placed graze of his cock, but chan doesn’t seem to care, grinding into you even more eagerly at your admission to the point you struggle to keep the sounds spilling out you at bay.

there’s a resounding knock on the door all of a sudden, one that makes your breath hitch and your chest twist in uneasiness. some part of you feels wary and on edge, and you would assume chan’s movements would halt at that, but he doesn’t show any signs of stopping, ignoring your frantic attempts to make him do so by holding you in place instead as he begins to pick up the pace. “s-stop, we’ll get caught.” you heave out upon the noise of skin slapping rising in volume. you do your best to stand your ground, to avoid the gradual closing of your eyes and the mushy fog of your brain clouding over in euphoria, but it’s to no avail. you’re about to let go of your inhibitions completely, to forget about what had just happened and throw caution into the wind in order to lose yourself in the moment, until—

“y/n, i know you’re in there with chris.”

. . .

comments and reblogs are always appreciated! <3

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sw: ROLEPLAY where jisung is santa for no particular reason, nipple play (m rec), oral (m rec), fingering, unprotected sex, creampie (i’m having a white christmas!), dirty talk, overall kind of not extreme but maybe a bit of d/s dynamics (both switchy)

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you don’t know what game you’re playing tonight.

jisung’s due back home any minute now. he’s been gone a few hours, last minute christmas shopping with friends, and he claimed he had a surprise for you. you asked to go with, claiming you needed to get a few things too, but jisung had simply told you he had a plan. it’s unusual behaviour for him, but he’s always doing sweet things for you - this could just be another one of those times.

still, you’re bent underneath the tree placing presents in nothing but your nightie and some fuzzy socks. you’ve had to light the fireplace to warm yourself up, but jisung always likes it when it’s cozy anyway. you expect that he’ll arrive home tired, but wanting, from the infrequent texts he’d sent you about missing you. there’s nothing you like more than snuggling with your favourite person on your favourite holiday, even if he does get a little too warm too quickly and ends up being more of a human radiator than anything else. 

once you’ve finally found places for all of the gifts, you’re able to wriggle yourself outwards. with the multicoloured lights on and the fireplace lit, along with your many other trinkets… well, it may look like christmas has exploded in your living room. still, you’ve always loved christmas. you adjust a little santa ornament on your fireplace and allow yourself to lay on the couch, pulling a thick blanket over your body. it’s comfortable.

unfortunately it may be a little too comfortable. you appear to have dropped off, because when you wake up it’s a little darker outside. you hear the click of the lock, the sound of the door swinging open and heavy boots stomping in. you sit up, drowsy with sleep but ready to greet your boyfriend. 

a few hums are heard from the door, soft and melodic, and you smile. it’s nice. you push yourself up, padding over to the front door, and- oh. 

santa’s here.

sure, he looks a little different. under the fluffy white beard and velvet red costume you can catch glimpses of him. a snippet of black ink across honey toned skin when he moves, the sight of his chain dangling beneath the fabric - it’s him, your santa claus, you know it, and suddenly it all makes sense.

“santa!” you grin, walking over to wrap your arms around his middle. he lets out a small ‘ooph’, pretending he’s winded, but two toned arms wrap around your frame right back. “you’re here! early, too.”

“i had to be early for my favourite girl,” you feel the rumble of his chest when he speaks against your ear, and you nuzzle the fabric of his suit. over the time you’ve known your santa, you’ve learned he can be a little sleazy - you’re pretty sure he’s making his voice deeper on purpose, and his fingertips are already tugging up on your nightie to check if you have panties on. it doesn’t surprise you. “why don’t we go take a seat?”

you’re guided back over to your sleeping spot with a firm palm on your back, and you realise he’s got his gloves on too, black faux leather that you can feel even through your nightie. you stumble a little and santa catches you, using the position to sit down and pull you down with him.

one of those sinful gloved hands come up to push your hair out of your face. it feels a little fucked up you’re getting aroused over this, over fucking around with someone who isn’t really your boyfriend, but he meets your gaze with his own. the look in his eyes lets you know that it’s all intentional. “have you been nice this year, baby?”

“i’ve been so nice this year, santa,” you wiggle onto his lap, legs splaying over the side. you receive a gummy smile in return and the feeling of his hand moving up your thigh. it’s sleazy, and you’re slicking up already. it smears against your thighs. “don’t you remember? just last week, i fingered your asshole until-“

“al-right,” he stammers. “doing naughty things isn’t very nice, y’know?! it’s actually the polar opposite. hah, polar.”

his facade is cracking, and you giggle, letting your hands run over his chest. you can feel the muscles beneath his suit. “i thought it was nice, santa. you seemed to like it. a lot, actually, if the noises were telling at all.”

“u-um, you’re not- this isn’t how this is meant to go,” his eyes are wide and ever so brown, the multicoloured lights bouncing off of them. he looks so earnest, almost innocent - if you’re pretending you can’t feel his cock hardening underneath your ass. “i’m meant to- you’re- baby.”

you’re already moving, swinging your legs back over to kneel on the floor in front of him. despite his protesting, he’s letting you, always pliant. his arms fall to his sides and his knees kick apart. his boots make a heavy thud on the wooden floor, the same platform boots you thought he’d retired years ago, and you want to ask him about them but he’s moving your hands to his cock. 

while your santa is pliant, you are too, and you give in.

you pull his trousers down, letting the waistband snap just underneath his balls. the pressure pushes his cock upright for you, hard and plump and leaky, and you engulf it with your mouth without a further thought.

“this is why y-you’re my favourite,” he gasps shakily, thighs spreading further. with a flick of his hand, the red velvet jacket falls open, and you’re met with the tattooed honey skin you’ve been craving all along. he’s built, chest plump enough to make your mouth water, and he rubs his thumb over his nipple while you suckle on his cockhead. “that’s it, my sweet baby. suck santa’s cock, just like that.”

your jaw aches already, head reeling from how fast everything is going. you pull off with a wet pop, and with your spare hand you stroke the shaft erratically, your spit acting as lubricant. it’s all too wet for him and his hips buck upwards into your grip. a sharp whine leaves his lips, preceding the heavy breaths that he lets out. 

you can’t help but let your other hand move down to his balls, running over the taut skin there. his thighs shake, and you pump harder, squeezing deliberately to watch how precum forms on the head.

“come and kiss me,” he orders, pushing your hand away to replace it with his own. he looks the image of debauched, cockhead ruddy red and sensitive, and he pulls you upwards impatiently to his mouth. you’re laying over him like this, tits pressed against his through your nightie, and he finally leans up to press his lips against yours. immediately, the kiss is filthy, his tongue pressing into your mouth with the deep moans and muffled noises he lets out at the feeling of his own grip. 

it’s not long before he’s pushing the same gloved hand past your nightie again, wet from your spit and his precum, finding that you definitely are not wearing panties. he moans into your mouth again, digits finding where you’re wet and aching for him. his lips clack against yours messily as he pushes two fingers inside of you - it’s just a precaution, not meant to be anything more than a quick stretch. still, when your fingers scrabble for purchase on his chest and your nails dig into the plump flesh, he finally pulls away from the kiss and sinks a third finger inside of you. the faux leather is warm from his natural body heat, and you gasp, hips grinding into his palm rhythmically. 

“f-fuck, that’s- you’re stretching my pussy out so good, santa,” you keen, keeping your words filthy because you know how he likes it. as you expected, he groans, head tossing back against the sofa and causing his hat to slide onto one side. his cock aches, pressing against your thigh. you can’t help but rub against it just to be cheeky, and his thumb comes to your clit as a punishment. “o-oh! oh, santa, please, will you give- give me more? i want your cock, please!”

“yeah, of course, my baby, of course, just- get this off? get it off,” he’s impatient, gripping at your nightie and pulling it each and every way until you finally sit back and yank it off of your body. instead of wasting any time, your santa is shifting forward, letting his fingers slip from your soaked hole. 

he slides inside at the same time his pouty lips envelop your nipple. he’s always been engrossed with your chest, just as much as you are with his. while he’s letting you adjust, his hands move to your ass and squeeze the flesh, eyes fluttering shut as if he’s sated just being inside of you - you know him better than that, though. once you’ve readjusted the red hat on his head, you start to move your hips.

“oh, that’s it,” it’s muffled against your chest, but you hear it, along with the deep groan that leaves his chest. he tries to remain in control, hips moving against yours. “this fuckin’ pussy. been needin’ it all day, baby, you don’t even know.”

“that’s why you came early, santa, right?” you say shakily. the trimmed hairs at the base of his cock rub against your clit in a way that has your eyes watering, and you quicken the pace, pussy clenching down on his shaft. “needed your baby’s pussy too bad. it’s here now, santa, why don’t you just take it?” 

“fffuck,” he leans back on his forearms, nodding, eyes scrunched shut. you can tell he wants to take, to force your pussy to take his thick cock, but the feeling of it all is too pleasurable to think. he’s always been a bit too sensitive. you can tell it’s not going to be a long one already, and your hand snakes down to rub fast circles on your clit. “ah, it’s so- it’s so wet, baby, so wet around my cock.”

you moan, moving like a woman possessed, hips rutting into a fast bounce that has him pistoning in and out of you. it’s then that he takes a little more control, grip moving back to your ass to bounce you on top of him. his cock hits deeper like this when he’s pulling you back and forth, and your toes curl in your socks, nose scrunching at the wet sounds reverberating throughout the room. it really is so wet, and you only have your santa to blame.

your hand slaps over your clit just after he opens his eyes, and they narrow, fixating on your pussy. his chest is heaving, and then in a split move, he’s pushing you down flat onto the sofa.

“keep rubbing it, keep- keep going, i need to cum,” he babbles, shaking his head. he’s out of it, and both gloved hands pin your hips down so he can take it from you. his hips move erratically, balls slapping against your skin, and with one hand you do exactly as he said, rubbing the little bundle of nerves until you’re wailing into his neck. the other hand splays against his stomach, almost as if you’re pushing him back, but he’s too strong for that. “it’s- me, now baby, talk to me. talk to hannie, my baby, c’mon.”

“h-hannie,” you hiccup, tears biting at your eyes. “‘s so good, jisungie, baby. i think i’m gonna cum.”

“yeah? why don’t you cum for me?” jisung questions. the white pom pom of his hat swings in front of his eyes, but jisung’s fed up by now, ripping the fabric from his head and tossing it to the side. it’s nice to see him properly, his face unobscured by taunting red fabric, and he gives you a gummy smile.

the sincerity of him, your boyfriend, your one true love is ultimately what does you in. your gummy walls clench around him, finally letting go, and your fingers slide messily across your clit until you’re finished crying through your orgasm. jisung isn’t far behind, and his lips come to kiss your forehead as he holds you close and pumps you full of his cum.

unceremoniously, jisung collapses with another ‘ooph’, sweaty chest pressing against yours. you know it’s intense for him to cum so quickly, and you run your nails up his back underneath the jacket to soothe him. he hums and wiggles his hips around in glee, as if he’s not still inside of you.

“so,” you yawn, letting your nails run down to scratch over his ass. jisung’s hips buck into you this time. “where did the santa idea come from?”

jisung leans back and rubs your nose with his, giggling. “no idea. it wasn’t even the original plan.”

“it wasn’t?” you gasp, attempting to sit up. “then what was it?”

“what was what?” jisung furrows his eyebrows. you groan.

“what was the original plan, jisungie?”

“oh, that!” he slides out of you, and you try not to giggle at the way he surges off of the sofa with his dick still out. “i’ll show you, just wait there!”

you really do giggle when he runs out of the door, tripping over his trouser legs. you think he’s going to return with the surprise, but then he pokes his head round the door, that same wide grin on his face. 

His ebony locks stick to his forehead in a sheen layer of sweat, his pectoral muscles flexing as his other hand reaches down to intertwine with yours.

“Like that, baby?” Changbin asks in a breathy voice. He maintains a rhythmic pace of pressing into you as though he’s trying to breed you, the tip of his girthy cock reaching places you’ve only fantasized of before tonight.

“Yeah,” you say in a shaky voice, hardly able to vocalize your pleasure as you shiver beneath his touch. His lips pull into a downturned smile, almost a smirk, as he observes the way your lips part for him. So needy, so desperate to take all of him, your body contorting so obediently for his cock to fill you entirely.

Before he can announce that he’s going to, Changbin’s cock twitches inside of you, a soft moan escaping his lips when he finally reaches his release, filling you with his hot load.

Changbin pulls out, his gaze traveling down to catch a glimpse of your cunt dripping with his cum. It’s an almost hypnotizing sight, your muscles still contracting as though begging for him to fill you again, and he smirks when you sit up in bed, furrowing your brows at him.

“I haven’t finished yet,” you groan, parting your legs a little further for him.

You’re a little frustrated, admittedly, at the neglect of your orgasm. Changbin’s never one to leave you hanging, especially not during sessions that span as long as ones like this.

“I know,” Changbin replies, sitting back on his ankles in front of you. He wipes a layer of sweat with the back of his hand, cocking his head in your direction as though he’s commanding you to lie back again.

“Lie down,” he says, confirming your theory. You obey without protest, wondering why he’s opted to take a breather instead of just fucking you to your release, too. But before you can utter a question in his direction, he’s parting your legs with his own hands, his face slotting itself between your legs, as he trails kisses along your inner thighs.

Changbin can’t take his eyes off your glistening cunt, still fascinated with the sight of you dripping remnants of him. His kisses are sloppy, and needy, trailing higher until he’s grazing his pouted lips just over your folds. And then he looks up through the sweaty strands of hair that hang in front of his eyes, meeting your anticipatory gaze with a smirk on his face.

“Stay still,” Changbin orders, sending a shiver up your spine. He places a single kiss on your quivering clit, prying you open when your legs twitch at the contact. And then he lets his tongue lap over your folds in repeated, hungry motions, ridding your flesh of his own cum. Your legs clasp around his face instinctively, desperately seeking your own release as he works you.

Changbin is particularly skilled with his tongue, but not usually like this, more eager to taste you than perhaps ever before. And it’s not you he’s so fixated on tasting this time, but rather himself, taking his time to relish in the flavor of his fluids engulfed by your sex. It’s somehow more enticing when he’s already had his way with you, a pressing urge for you to reach your finish, now that he’s already taken care of himself. And he’s keen on the way you rut your hips in upward motions, chasing the high as though he’s still inside of you.

Changbin indulges you in every second of the sensation, dipping his tongue into your entrance to effectively lap his own release out of you. His tongue exits to trace your folds in gentle motions, coming up to trace around your bundle of nerves. And then to dip back inside of you the same way his cock first did, gathering a generous wad of his milky white release on his tongue, to then retract it once more and tongue the inside of his own cheek.

“So good,” you say between stifled moans, your hands tangling in his hair now, as you continue letting him tongue-fuck you, his hot breath circling your inner thighs and sending shivers up your spine.

Changbin reckons he could get drunk off the taste of you alone, his head spinning as he moves faster, and faster, eyes shut in a blissful state of euphoria. And you mirror his actions, squeezing your eyes shut at the slightest bit of contact now, squirming beneath his touch as you’re eager for some release.

“Don’t stop,” you command, your thighs trembling as he nuzzles his face against you. The unkempt stubble he sports is ticklish against your clit, even more satisfying when he succeeds the action with a series of sloppy kisses along your flesh. And his hands grasp you even tighter now, determined to make you cum, as he laps up the remainder of his own release.

“Cum for me,” Changbin hums against your flesh. He alternates between ordering you in a gruff whisper, juxtaposed against the action of tender kisses against you. And his breathing grows heavier when your moans transition to a much higher pitch now.

“Cum,” he chants, resuming his kisses. “Let go, baby. Cum for me. Let go.”

The same words are spoken repeatedly like a hushed prayer between his lips and your flesh, and when his tongue darts out one last time to gather his arousal, he’s met with yours, too, as you finally reach your climax, legs shaking around his face as you grasp his hair tightly. He smirks against you when you moan his name, voice raising in pitch as your whole body trembles through your orgasm. And when he finally pulls back again, his stubble glistens with your juices too now, sitting back up to meet your gaze.

No words are exchanged when he leans in to kiss you, and when his tongue darts in between your lips, it’s a heavenly mix of your arousal, of his, of salivation and breathy gasps for air. And a smile against your lips, when he feels you sigh against him, your languid body completely overcome with pleasure.

“What’s going on?” You ask him, meeting his distracted gaze. “You’ve been impatient since we got here. Do you want to call and exit?”

You reach for the red telephone beside him, and Hyunjin sprawls his fingers out over yours, gesturing for you to keep the receiver in its place.

“It’s not that,” he responds. The corners of his lips pull into a slight smile, and you furrow your brows in confusion, as he groans again.

“You know they don’t have cameras in here?” Hyunjin inquires, cocking his head toward the ceiling. “I noticed it back in the first room.”

“I know,” you say to him. “That’s why the only instructions they can give are over the phone. It’s part of the mystery.”

Hyunjin takes a single step toward you, hands still in his pockets, as he towers over you to meet your gaze.

“Meaning no one could watch if we got busy in here.”

You slap his arm playfully, chuckling in response, but Hyunjin doesn’t provide any sign that he’s joking about the suggestion.

“Are you serious?” You say to him, swallowing nervously. “Hyunjin, that’s way too risky. If they saw, we’d be kicked out and banned from here, and they’d probably call-”

“Who would see?” He queries, pulling his hands out of his pockets to tilt your chin up. “No one. There’s no cameras, we get 30 minutes max in here. I only need half of that.”

It’s his words that are convincing, his voice sounding deeper than usual, as he pulls you in for a kiss, hands snaking down the small of your back to pull you closer to him.

He smirks as he kisses you, perhaps knowing it doesn’t take much to win you over, yet you still pull away momentarily, glancing back at the heavy door across the room.

“We still need to find the key.”

“I’m good at this stuff,” he assures you, spinning you around to press you against the concrete walls. “Just cum for me, and then we can look for the key.”

Hyunjin’s face buries in the crook of your neck, as he trails along your jawline with sloppy kisses, one hand balling your skirt in the fist of his hand, as the other begins to undo his belt buckle. You can’t help but moan softly at the sound of his belt clinking in the empty room around you, already dripping at the knowledge of how risky this is. His belt hangs open loosely as he lowers his jeans down his thighs, and then his vacant hand attaches itself to the waistband of your panties.

You expect him to undress you as promptly as he’s done himself, yet his slender fingers find your cunt instead, rubbing vigorously over your pulsing clit and pressing the cotton of your underwear firmly against you. The sounds you let out are much louder than you intend them to be, the whole room filling with sounds of your erotic gasps, as he moves back and forth along your clothed folds, pressing his middle finger to your clit and applying even more pressure.

You begin to ask him to just fuck you already, yet Hyunjin is well aware of the passing minutes, swift to tug your panties down and pull your skirt up a little higher. The cold air grazes your wetness, and Hyunjin reattaches his fingers to your clit, moving in a much slower fashion, as his spare hand wraps around the base of his cock. He pumps himself a few times, throwing his head back at the sensation of finally being touched, and then he slots himself between your inner thighs, pushing into you slowly, as his fingers move from your clit to intertwine with yours.

His pace starts off slowly, not wanting to finish too quickly- and for a moment he’s scared that he might, well aware that he’s been fully erect for almost the entirety of this escape room. But he picks up his speed quickly, beginning to thrust into you much faster now, your fingers grasping him tightly as you struggle to keep your balance. Hyunjin’s grunts echo in your ears as he leans in to kiss you, just barely meeting your lips, a string of saliva still connecting his flesh to yours when he pulls away. He glances down with lips parted, eyebrows arched in pleasure at the sight of his cock disappearing into you, and then he lets out a whiny plea when he feels you clench around him.

“Not yet,” Hyunjin commands breathlessly. “We still have time.”

“I’m gonna cum,” you whine, gasping for air when he resumes at a much slower pace. “I can’t hold it.”

“Wait,” Hyunjin commands again. He reaches down to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, his lips finding the shell of your ear again as he resumes his thrusts. And then he stops entirely, glancing around the rest of the room.

“Why’d you stop?” You quickly ask, glancing over your shoulder at him. Beads of sweat trickle down his chiseled jawline, and he wears a preoccupied expression on his face.

Hyunjin doesn’t answer, instead meeting the gaze of the concrete wall in front of your still-standing figures. And then he reaches for the red telephone on the wall, dialing a single digit and holding it up to his ear.

“What are you doing?” You ask in a panicked, yet hushed tone, as you hear someone pick up on the other end.

“Room 3?” A voice on the other end says, and Hyunjin begins to move once more, slowly, as you stifle your gasps.

“Yeah,” he says breathlessly. “We need a hint.”

It’s unclear whether he actually needs a hint, or if he’s just doing this to bother you, as he listens for instruction on the other end of the line. But he continues his movements, thrusting his cock in and out of you in painfully slow movements, as you let soft moans emit from your parted lips.

Hyunjin nods as he’s granted a hint, all the while bringing his spare hand around to cup your mouth, pressing his palm against your lips in efforts to stifle your crescendo moans. You can feel a string of drool trail down your bottom lip and onto his palm, as he utters thanks to the man on the phone. And then he finally hangs up, releasing his hold on your mouth and quickening his thrusts again.

“Can’t stay quiet, huh?” He muses, his lips pulling into a grin as he grunts in your ear.

“Cum for me,” Hyunjin finally commands, and you can feel your knees buckle at his words. “Such a good girl, letting me fuck you in the escape room where they might find us. Cum for me, and I’ll tell you where the key is.”

A series of pornographic moans escape your lips when you finally do finish for him, his fingers intertwining with yours as he reaches his release at the same time, filling you with his load as he lets his hand trail down your spine to smooth down your skirt again.

When he pulls back, you can hear him pull up his boxers as you do your panties, and the clink of his belt buckle can be heard when he concludes dressing himself once more.

Hyunjin spins you around to face him again, the same devilish grin plastered on his face as he leans down to kiss you, and then he glances over his shoulder at the heavy door to the exit.

“It should be right here,” he states, reaching up to feel around the top of the doorframe. His slender fingers make contact with a little metal key, just as the hint implied, and you watch him bring it to the lock at the same time he glances down at his silver watch.

“We made it with two minutes to spare,” he says, a hint of satisfaction in his voice.

“Yeah, and we had to use a hint, otherwise we wouldn’t have made it,” you reply, chuckling softly.

Hyunjin cocks his head as he twists the key in the lock, and then he winks at you, before pushing the door open.

“You’re right,” he remarks simply. “Guess we’ll have to try it again sometime.”

the first few jobs had been tough, no lie, but as your expertise grew, you found yourself designing for luxury brands, and more and more celebrities reached out with personal orders. it wasn’t long before you were transitioning from mere designing to personal styling too, your eye for aesthetics always helping you shine in the field.

immediately becoming a favourite in the area, you had numerous opportunities to work and network with various celebrities, but nothing ever came close to the exhilaration you felt when your company revealed to you the latest offer: be a main stylist for stray kids.

it was like heavens descended on you, god himself knocked on your door and blessed with you with the only thing you’d ever dreamed of. of course styling celebrities was something you loved, but having the chance to style stray kids? it didn’t take you a week to accept the offer and by the next monday, you were at their company, signing the contracts with them.

you weren’t one to give your past up no, you would have stayed in your older position which paid really well and worked with your passion, had it not been for the client in question. approaches from kpop groups were not foreign to you, so when you finally accepted one by stray kids in one go, your boss was really surprised.

“are you sure you want to do this y/n? you’ll still be signed with us should you choose to, but you’ll be expressly under jyp’s terms and conditions. none of my powers will protect you there nor will you enjoy any protection or support form our company. you’ll be completely at their beck and call to do as they please.” she’d said in a concerned manner, letting you know all the pros and cons in a professional yet gentle manner. that and she also wanted to try and retain her top talent.

“i read the contracts, and had my lawyer go through it too. i understand the conditions and i am willing to work with them,” you’d told her, confident and firm in your stance.

this was new, really, and the look on your boss’ face told you just out of character this seemed. no wonder everyone would conspire if there was a deeper meaning, a more suitable reason to as to why you were suddenly accepting this offer after rejecting thousands of kpop groups.your politely dismissed all such rumours, simply citing that you wanted to try something new after 5 years of designing and styling other kinds of celebrities. the kpop scene would be new and you were excited.

so as you sat at the company, your lawyer in attendance. you couldn’t help but bite back the smile threatening to grace your lips. when you finally agreed on all terms and negotiated a few which you could, you picked the pen up and signed on the sheet.

oh really, there was no reason behind you picking this offer at once.

definitely not the prospect of getting to style lee minho up close and personal…. definitely not that.

——

two

you’d been with skz for about 8 months now, and styled them for multiple concerts and a few music videos too. you weren’t sure when your job stopped feeling like a job. it had became a part of your life that you now passionately adored and would never want to change. being a stylist for stray kids wasn’t just about picking outfits—it was about understanding their personalities, their moods, and sometimes the things they didn’t say. somehow, you always understood lee minho the most.

or maybe…just maybe… you liked how good he would look in anything you picked out for him. it was a silly thing really, how much it bothered you that what he was wearing had been decided by you, of all the people, you.

you wouldn’t admit it out loud, but dressing him was your favorite part of the job. every time you chose an outfit for him, it felt personal, like you were creating something just for him. and maybe, in a way, you were.

you spent more time on his outfits than you probably should have. you’d carefully consider every detail—what color would bring out his sharp features, what cut would highlight his broad shoulders, what style would match his quiet confidence. what would highlight those strong, toned thighs, bring out those biceps, his hard chest and his milky neck…. it almost felt illegal to be so invested in your client. it wasn’t just about him looking good for the cameras; it was about knowing that you were the one behind it.

but you were a professional. so every day, you pushed the feelings down and focused on your job—making sure the fabrics and fits were just right, making sure they all looked their best. still, sometimes your fingers lingered a little too long when you adjusted his jacket. and every time he looked at you, you couldn’t help but wonder if he saw more than just the stylist who made sure his clothes fit.

how could you not be absolutely obsessed with that walking god? the way he carried himself had you on your knees, and all he had to do was look at you to have you craving for him. it didn’t help that he liked your designs, even if he didn’t show huge reactions, you could tell it from the way he would take extra care to not ruin the look, stand and sit straighter, keep checking in the mirror to not ruin the style you spent so much time to perfect for him.

and his body oh god, you absolutely loved taking inspiration from the way he moved so gracefully. it wasn’t hard to imagine clothes for him, but you’d be lying if you didn’t admit….you liked putting him in slightly…dangerous clothes at times.

fabrics that would slip, shirts that would be tight at the arms, or necklines that would be deeper than what was defined for them. you couldn’t help it, there was something about seeing an angry minho trying to fix his outfit on stage that had you squirming in your seat.

it started out as a mistake, you ended up giving him longer than usual sleeves and he kept pushing them up his arms, naturally it made the stays go crazy and the fancam went viral. he didn’t say much, just asked you to be careful next time and you nodded. however, once he realised just how much his fans liked seeing him that way, he had other thoughts.

“you seem to know what the fans like” he said, entering the dressing room where the two of you were alone. he had just come back after performing his solo and had to get ready for the next group song. the members all had private changing rooms at their arena tour concerts for ease and privacy during their solo performances, and of course, you were minho’s designated stylist.

“that’s my job isn’t it?” you grinned, noticing that the shirt was doing hat it was supposed to, hanging meekly on his strong frame and exposing his sharp collarbones. you tried not to make it obvious but you were staring. how could you not when he was looking like that in front of you?

“true, in fact, i believe you know a little too much about how to dress me up for the female gaze.” he hummed, taking a towel to wipe the sweat around his neck and walk over towards you.

you looked away from the greek god before you and pretended to fix his jacket. “huh?” you stuttered, ignoring him as he leaned behind you, his chest pressing against your back and you did everything you could in your power to not melt into his hold.

“we both know what im talking about darling” he muttered into your ear as you heard him peek his sticky, sweaty shirt off, throwing it on the table. “come on, you’re so bold with the clothes you pick, what’s wrong now? cat got your tongue?” he teased at your lack of response, taking note of the way your ears turned red and chest raised and fell so quickly.

“i-“ you began, turning around meekly to hand him his next piece for the nest song, ignoring his naked body inches from you.

“it’s okay kitten, i won’t tell.” he mused, a sly smirk on his face as he took the short, brushing his fingers against yours to grab it. “in fact, i’ll let you” he winked, putting the shirt on in seconds and leaving you standing there.

fuck, that man would be the death of you.

——

three

the next time, you dressed him in a pair of pants just tight enough to reveal his thighs, the shape, the tone, the muscle….oh when he stood in that pose before beginning the performance, you swore you felt yourself shiver just looking at him. sure they were a little more tight and firm fitting than what he usually wore but he’d given you permission…right?

you couldn’t count the number of times you’d imagined what it would feel like to rub yourself on his thick thighs, how he would softly grab your waist, kiss your rough and talk you through it sweetly. you could picture him teasing you, smirking at you, making you feel things you didn’t think were possible.

the performance was a huge success, and the boys came back to the room, clapping along with the staff in joy and satisfaction. you greeted them all, celebrating for a while before you headed back to check on what they would have to wear for the rest of the program.

“thinking of other ways to make me appealing to stays are you?” minho chuckled as he entered the dressing room, leaning across the door frame.

it started as harmless teasing—at least, that’s what you told yourself. minho always had a sharp tongue and a smirk that could make your knees weak if you let it, but lately, it felt different. his comments lingered longer and the space between you seemed to shrink even when neither of you moved.

“come here” you said instead, grabbing the jacket he was supposed to put on.

he obliged a little too easily, not before locking the door after him, and you found it strange. no teasing or flirty remarks this time? that was new.

“you like dressing me up, don’t you?” he said, his voice low, almost lazy, as you adjusted the collar of his jacket.

“it’s my job,” you hummed, keeping your tone neutral even as your pulse raced. but you did notice that his eyes followed the movement of your hands.

“doesn’t feel like just a job,” he murmured, tilting his head slightly so his face was closer to yours. your breath hitched, and you quickly stepped back, pretending to fuss over a wrinkle that wasn’t even there.

“stop moving, or the jacket won’t sit right,” you muttered, avoiding his gaze.

but he didn’t stop. instead, he leaned closer, so close you could feel the faint warmth of his breath against your skin. “maybe you like it when i don’t listen,” he said, his voice just above a whisper, and you froze.

your eyes flicked up to his and there was something darker in his gaze, something that made your stomach twist in a way you couldn’t ignore.

“you’re impossible,” you said, trying to sound annoyed.

he just smirked. “and yet, you’re still here.” then he moved away, walking past you to go check himself in the mirror.

your eyes followed his lean body, unable to tear your gaze away.

“you’re staring,” he said once, catching you off guard as you watched him adjust his sleeves in the mirror.

“i’m making sure it fits right,” you lied, your voice a little too defensive.

he turned to face you, his smirk melting into a smile. “is that all it is?”

your throat went dry, and for a moment, you couldn’t find the words.

“minho, i—” you began, worried that you’d made him uncomfortable, scared that you’d taken this game too far and had crossed into the like of being unprofessional-

“relax,” he interrupted, stepping closer until there was barely any space left between you. “i don’t mind if you look.”

he reached out, his fingers brushing yours as he adjusted the measuring tape hanging from your hand.

“im your canvas anyway kitten” he winked before leaving the room once again.

——

four

this was a big award show for the kids, and you had to make sure they looked perfect. so you did what you had to, you picked out the perfect black zip up tee that you’d been saving.

minho had been working out, you could tell with the way his measurements changed and the way his muscles flexed underneath your hands when you dressed him or measured him. this tee would be the perfect fit on his body, it would highlight all the-

you stopped yourself from going too far.

as you put it on him, you couldn’t help but stare. it was a little riskier than usual, but you couldn’t help yourself. the way it clung to his frame in the fitting room was almost too much.

you adjusted the zipper just so, leaving it open just enough to give a hint of skin—teasing, but still tasteful. or at least, that’s what you convinced yourself.

“this works,” you murmured, stepping back to admire the way the outfit pulled together.

minho gave you a once-over in the mirror, his expression unreadable. “a bit much, don’t you think?”

“not if you can pull it off,” you supplied.

“it looks like it’s painted on,” he muttered

“exactly,” you teased, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling too wide. “you’ll thank me when you see the photos later.”

it fit even better than you imagined, clinging to his chest and tapering perfectly at his waist. the zipper glinted under the dressing room lights, catching your eye as he adjusted it just slightly.

“you’ve got that look again,” he said, breaking your thoughts.

“what look?” you asked, playing innocent, though you could feel the heat creeping up your neck.

“like you’re too proud of yourself,” he said, smirking as he turned to the mirror.

you stepped forward, tugging along the zipper to adjust it. “it’s my job to make sure you look good,” you said, your voice quieter now that you were so close.

he watched you through the mirror, his gaze dark and steady. “you sure that’s the only reason?”

you froze for a second before stepping back, clearing your throat. “stop fishing for compliments, minho.”

he chuckled, “so... halfway, or all the way up?”

you tilted your head, considering. “halfway. it’s... more balanced.”

“more balanced,” he echoed, the corner of his mouth curling up. “not because you want everyone to stare?”

your cheeks burned “i’m thinking about the aesthetic, not—whatever you’re implying.”

he leaned against the counter, his arms crossing over his chest. “right. sure. just aesthetic.”

“just get out there,” you said, waving him toward the door and he laughed, “okay okay,” he nodded, “i’ll go and perform well in your outfit miss” he teased one last time before walking out to join the group.

oh he was insufferable.

five

fuck fuck fuck….you watched the performance as the song began, and a dread filled you. in all your teasing with him, you forgot to secure the zipper. fuck, no, what if,,, nah, case 143 choreo wasn’t that hard was it? it won’t slip down. why would it? it’s not like minho has a strong dance break in that song….

you were proven wrong right as the final leg of the performance began. the zipper, which you’d adjusted to sit slightly open for a teasing effect, slid further down as he danced, exposing more of his chest than either of you intended. the crowd went wild, the cameras zeroed in on him, and while the rest of the group laughed it off backstage, minho wasn’t as amused.

you were in the dressing room when he walked in, still flushed from the performance, his jaw tight and eyes sharp. you barely had time to open your mouth before he shut the door behind him with a little too much force. you knew the second he stormed into the dressing room that you were in trouble. he didn’t say anything at first, just shut the door behind him with a force.

“what the hell was that?” his voice was low, controlled, but there was an unmistakable frustration behind it.

“the zipper?” you asked, trying to play it cool even as your pulse quickened.

“yes, the zipper,” he snapped, taking a step closer. his hair was slightly damp from sweat, clinging to his forehead, and the way he looked at you—frustrated, intense—made it hard to think straight.

“it wasn’t supposed to go that far down,” you said quickly, reaching for an excuse. “it must’ve slipped—”

“slipped,” he repeated, his tone heavy with disbelief. his gaze dropped to your hands, and then back up to your face, his lips curving into a dangerous smirk. “you’re telling me this was an accident?”

“of course it was,” you shot back, though your voice wavered slightly under his stare.

“really?” he snapped, his voice rising slightly. “because it sure looked like you wanted every single person in that crowd to see me like that.” he moved closer so that he was inches before you.

your cheeks burned, and you took a step back, only to find yourself against the counter. “i was just doing my job,” you muttered, trying to sound unaffected, but the way he was looking at you—like he was ready to devour you—made it nearly impossible to focus on the unholy thoughts wrecking your brain.

“your job,” he repeated, leaning in until his face was inches from yours. his hands came up to rest on either side of you, trapping you in place. “you’ve been awfully hands-on lately, haven’t you? fixing collars, adjusting sleeves, picking out clothes that fit just right.” his hands came to grab the ends of the measure tape across your body, one that you used and hung around your neck.

you swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest. “minho, i—”

"you what?" he taunted, hands tightening around the tape and he pulled it slowly, deliberately till you were closer to him.

“is this part of your job too?” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. his hand moved to the zipper on his chest, fingers brushing it as he tugged it down another inch, exposing more of his skin.

“minho,” you breathed, barely able to get the word out.

“what?” he challenged, his lips curling into a smirk that was equal parts angry and... something else. “you seemed to enjoy dressing me like this. or maybe you just wanted a better view.”

your cheeks burned, your heart pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it. “that’s not—”

“don’t lie to me,” he growled, his hand slamming against the counter behind you, caging you in completely. his face was so close now, you could see the tension in his jaw, the way his tongue flicked over his teeth like he was barely holding himself back. “every touch, every look—don’t think i haven’t noticed.”

his words were sharp, cutting, but the way his eyes roamed your face made your knees weak. "minho i wasn't-" you stuttered, trying your best to ignore the way your panties felt more and more damp and uncomfortable to be in. subconsciously, you pressed your thighs together at the glare minho gave you. he was furious enough to make you lose your senses, you couldn't even think properly, much less speak.

this scene before you was straight out of your fantasies.

“you wanted attention?” he asked, his tone mocking. “you’ve got it. so tell me—was this for you, or for them?” he chuckled darkly, placing an arm around your waist, holding you tight as the other one came to pull your chin to face him.

“it wasn’t—” your voice cracked, and you swallowed hard, trying to steady yourself. “it wasn’t like that.”

"then what was it like kitten?" he tilted his head lower, lips brushing against yours and you sighed, melting into his hold. "can you tell me?"

"i-" you began, "i just wanted to dress you in an attractive manner-" you mumbled but he wasn't having it. he wanted to hear it, from your own mouth. hear you say how stupid obsessed you were with him and how it led you to do this.

he needed to hear that you wanted this as much as he did.

“you don’t get to play innocent after that,” he continued, his voice dropping even lower. “i saw the way you looked at me when you zipped this up earlier. you knew exactly what you were doing.”

his thumb brushed your bottom lip, and the slight, almost careless dominance in the gesture left you speechless.

“nothing to say now?” his smirk was sharp, dangerous, as his eyes roamed over your face. “you were so bold earlier, picking this out for me. so confident.” he breathed out.

“minho,” you finally managed to whisper, though it came out shaky, barely audible.

“what?” he pressed, his tone mocking yet laced with something darker. “don’t tell me you can’t handle the consequences of your little games.”

his fingers trailed along the edge of the zipper on his chest, tugging it down another inch as he watched your reaction. "i won't do shit to you until you admit it kitten, you're the one dragging this out." he hissed, his hand coming to grip your neck and tilt it back, while his knee pushed between your thighs, rubbing against your wet core. "at least pretend like you're not into this kitten, ive seen you push your thighs together thrice already.'" he scoffed lightly, his touch on your neck sending shivers down your spine. "admit it," he murmured "or i will you here like this, wet, desperate and needy" he hissed in your ear and you broke.

"go on," he teased, the challenge clear in his tone. "say it. i want to hear you admit exactly what’s been running through that pretty little head of yours."

"i...i did it on purpose" you choke out and he hums in approval. “i dressed you up because i liked seeing you in these kinds of outfits”

he lets out a chuckle, his grip loosening as he leans back to get a good look at you. “so my kitten admits it wasn’t for her job, but rather because she found me attractive?” he rose a brow, daring you to disagree.

the sheer confidence, the cocky arrogance had you folding already and you nod, placing your hands on his chest, desperate for his touch.

“there’s my good girl” he smiled, leaning closer. “what do you want me to do then kitten?” he tilted his head, waiting for your approval before he took this far into the other line.

“kiss me minho, please.” you whispered and you had barely completed your sentence before his mouth had descended on yours.

the kiss was hot and heavy, laced with need and desperation. his lips moulded with yours with a strange urgency, as if he’d been dying to have you. his hands clawed at your body, struggling to feel all of you at once.

when you came up for air, he barely let you breathe for two seconds before he was kissing you again, knocking the air out of your lungs.

“mhh-“ you moaned into the kiss, eliciting a grown from the man kissing you.

“fuck kitten, you’re gonna be the death of me” he hissed, pulling away and grabbing your chin to look at the mess he’d made.

your lipstick was smudged, lips swollen, bitten, rightfully so, and covered in a sheen of his spit.

you looked beautiful.

“more- please” you whimper and he obliges, he would be stupid to say no.

“more? what does my kitten want huh? for me to touch her? where?” he played with you, pushing you up on the counter table and standing between your thighs as his hand came to run over your clothed cunt. “here?” he teased, watching you throw your head back and whimper a meek yes.

“aww, haven’t even done much yet” he cooed, pulling your skirt to your waist, eyes locking in on the wet patch on your light pink cotton panties. “fuck, have you been this wet since you dressed me up?” he said, his eyes blown wide with lust.

you gulped, your hands fisted at your sides and nodded softly, and that seemed to make minho lose his mind for he groaned and threw his head back.

“fucking hell” he whispered more to himself, “seeing me in this did that to you?” he chuckled, pulling you closer. “want me to take care of it kitten?”

you could only nod, lost in the situation that you’d wanted for god knows how long.

“not quite yet baby, you’ll have to get wetter for me yeah? show me how bad you want me” he winked, pointing to the zipper and your eyes lit up.

“can i-“ you began

“everything you’ve imagined baby, do it to me” he nodded, pulling you closer by your neck till your lips were against the zip. “use that pretty mouth” he ordered.

your lips wrapped around the zipper, taking care to not touch your teeth because you hated the feeling of metal on them, and pulled it down, all the way down, revealing his naked body before you to admire.

your lip nipped slightly in the process of keeping your teeth away and minho all but pulled you up to suck on the wound, turning it into a kiss that ended with his hands in your panties.

“shit baby, you’re so fucking wet, do you hear yourself?” he moaned, leaving kisses all down your neck while his thumb worked on your clit, two of his fingers curling inside your hot, wet cunt. “taking my fingers so well, i wonder if that cunt can take my cock that well too” he chuckled, earning a deep moan out of you.

“shh baby, don’t forget, we’re still in public” he warned, sticking his fingers inside your mouth to suck on while he pushed yet a third one inside your pussy, fucking you with them both simultaneously.

oh how you loved him being ambidextrous.

“shit” he grunted when you began to shudder around his fingers, and he pulled them out before you could cum, putting them inside his mouth at once to suck them clean.

“mhm, sweetest taste baby, was so fucking worth the wait” he groaned, kissing you and making you taste yourself.

“im going to fuck you now okay baby?” he rose a brow, laying you back on the table.

“please, please minho, i, i cant-“ you began, and he paused, eyes widening as he cupped your cheeks.

“hey hey, you want to stop? did i hurt you?” he asked, tender worry in his eyes and guilt.

your heart warmed and you shook your head. “no no, im fine, it’s just that…could you keep the shirt on while you fuck me?” you asked, tracing your hand down the shirt and leaning ahead to kiss it.

“aw baby fuck, you can’t just- you can’t do that and expect me to stay still” he hissed, hands coming into your hair once you gave him the green light again.

he let you play with him, kissing his chest, biting, licking, all you want while he played with your hair and mumbled how good you were being for him and how amazing you were making him feel.

“is my kitty satisfied?” he asked, pulling you back by your hair and making you look up at him.

“not yet” you pout, and he swears he loses it. how could you be so fucking hot and cute at the same time?

“what else baby?”

“cock.” you pout, a little huff leaving your lips and he swears he lost his mind. “want your cock min, want to suck your cock” you plead.

the shaky breath he takes tells you everything you need to know about how you were on the edge of his self control at that point.

“baby…” he breathes out, “as badly as i want that pretty mouth around my cock, i want to fuck that cunt before i have to be up on the stage again” he mumbles darkly, his hands on your waist as he lays you back. “is that okay with you? i promise kitten, i’ll let you do whatever you want once the program ends yeah? but i’ve only got a little time left and i can’t leave you needy here yeah? i can’t go out there’s without fucking that pussy with my cock after seeing it take my fingers so well baby i’ll lose my mind on stage” he grunts as you nod, letting him know you were okay with him going a little rough and faster than before.

“i don’t, i don’t have a condom though.” he said with a sudden realisation, pulling back to cup your cheek. “how about i just eat you out instead?” he offered, but you shook your head.

“im on birth control,” you said at once, “im clean, i know you are too,” you whisper, “staff privileges” you add with a sly wink and he chuckles.

“i really have quite the obsessed girl here don’t i?” he mumbles a little darkly as he kisses you this time.

“gonna take it yeah? gonna take my cock” he hissed as he unbuckled his pants, leaning down and licking a long stripe over your pussy. “sorry, couldn’t resist” he chuckled before grabbing his cock and placing its tips against your clit, pressing on it and making you whine.

“baby, quiet” he warned sternly as he slowly pushed in, letting his jaw fall open at the pleasure.

your hands came to grab at this shirt on his body, feeling your back arch from the sheer size and girth he carried. “you’re-you’re big” you choke out but you knew that. hey, you fitted his pants too didn’t you?

“but you know that already don’t you kitten? you’re not exactly subtle when measuring me” he cooed, teasing you as he bottomed out all the way, staying there to let you adjust. “fuck baby, you’re taking me so well, so fucking well, just relax a bit more yeah? you’re so wet and so fucking tight i don’t- i don’t want to hold back-“ he grunted, kissing you hard.

“you- you can move” you nod as soon as you feel him get all the way in, he’d worked you up well before and you felt your cunt suck him in.

“ah fuck” he hissed as he pulled out only to push back in, the loud squelch making you both groan. the sounds of his hips slapping against the yours, the creaking of the table, the squelch of your wetness coating him drove you crazy and you couldn’t help but feel your orgasm form earlier struggling to come back.

“min im close-“ you whine.

“already? baby we just started.” he chuckled, grabbing your thighs and pushing your knees to your chest, the angle pushing him deeper and you both moaned at the same time. his fingers came to rub at your clit in tight circles, making your whined get squeakier and your orgasm built up like crazy.

“go on, cum for me yeah? show me how good im making you feel” he cooed, and it didn’t take long for you to feel your orgasm hit you like a truck.

your body shook in waves, your eyes wet from slight tears due to how good it felt and how much pleasure minho was giving you all at once. “fucking goddess” he grunted, staring at you mystified as he kept fucking you through your orgasm, “gonna let me keep going? gonna let me keep fucking this cunt?” he hissed.

“yes, please, need more minho, need you, all of you please” you plead, looking up at him as he went harder, his rhythm losing pace as his own orgasm neared.

“you close min? you’re going to cum for me? cum inside my pussy?” you cooed, watching his expressions contort to one of pure pleasure and he nodded vigorously.

“fuck yes, keep talking to me like that’s baby” he grunted, “gonna fill this pussy with my cum”

“do it, please min, what your cum inside me so bad, want to watch you onstage in my handpicked outfit, with your cum dripping out of my pussy” you whine and that’s when minho loses it.

“cum with me, again yeah? once more please” he moans and you couldn’t say no, not when he was fucking you so good and so deep.

it didn’t take long before the two of you came together, your hands clutching the collar of the shirt as you both stayed close.

“fuck” he moans with sensitivity, slowly pulling out of you and cupping your cheek. “you did so well, so so good for me baby” he cooed, laying soft kisses on your tried face as you tried to catch your breath.

“so did you-“ you gasp, chuckling softly. “did you just tire yourself out before you last stage?” you point out and he just playfully rolled his eyes.

“oh please, my stamina is endless baby. you only saw a quarter of it because i fucked you right after performing three songs in a row. wait till we get back to the dorm and i have you to myself all night” he winked and your brows shot up.

“you want to do this again?” you ask with a slightly hopeful tone and he simply smiled, grabbing a few tissues to clean you up while you laid there.

“of course y/n, i know the order isn’t the best but will you let me take you out to dinner? and then can i be your boyfriend?” he chuckled at the play with words, ironically the lyrics of his own song when that zipper slipped down.

“i could never say no min” you smiled, pulling him into a kiss one last time before you’d both have to get cleaned up and dress him up again.

——

a/n- i hope i wrote it well and you enjoyed it💗

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“Hi baby,” Jisung says with a toothy grin as you enter the kitchen, rushing into his arms as he pulls you into his warm embrace.

“Missed you,” you say, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips and wrapping your arms around his broad back. He’s dressed comfortably in a black tank top and sweatpants, already having showered after dance practice so he can spend the whole evening by your side.

“I missed you,” Jisung voices back, tucking strands of hair behind your ears as he looks down at you. “Did you eat?”

“Yeah,” you respond, already having eaten your portion of the takeout food you bought a few hours ago. “Sorry. I was starving and I couldn’t wait,”

Jisung chuckles lightly, shaking his head and pressing a small kiss to your temple. “But you need to eat,” he voices. “Don’t be sorry. I’m gonna get my half and I’ll meet you on the couch.”

You nod at him, separating from his embrace to make your way to the couch, while Jisung retrieves his share of food from the kitchen table.

“What do you want to watch?” You call out to Jisung, and you can hear him shuffling about to transfer Chinese food to his plate.

“Horror?” He queries, mixing his noodles with a pair of chopsticks. “There’s that new one we wanted to watch. With the clown?”

“Oh yeah!” You exclaim, flipping through titles and landing on the movie you’ve agreed on.

“Are you sure you won’t be too scared?” Jisung says with an amused smirk as he finally makes his way back through to the couch with his food in hand.

“Scared?” You echo. “Please. Clowns don’t scare me at all. They’re silly.”

“They don’t?” Jisung questions with wide eyes. “Even I think they’re unsettling.”

“Well sure, they can be a little unsettling. But they’re not scary, per se.”

“Maybe this will change your mind, then,” Jisung says, raising his eyebrows as you finally start up the movie.

*

Thirty minutes in, you maintain your stance on clowns in movies- they’re just not scary. The antagonist makes a big show of killing people and strutting around in a face full of white makeup paired with a red rubber nose, but you simply don’t find any part of it to be fearful- in fact, you’re even laughing at a few parts, while Jisung finishes eating beside you.

“It’s not funny,” Jisung says with a scoff. “That was a children’s birthday party.”

“Yeah,” you respond. “And that kid kept harassing the clown. He got what he deserved.”

“Baby, he’s seven,” Jisung emphasizes, laughing lightly beside you.

“Okay, okay,” you say to him. “I digress. Maybe if it was in person, it’d be a little more scary. But on screen it’s just a little lame.”

Jisung furrows his eyebrows as he turns back to the screen, the clown dismembering some unimportant character while a sinister music track plays in the background. And then he sits up, his features perking up as he stands up from his spot on the couch.

“I have an idea,” Jisung says suddenly.

“An idea? What is it?”

“Wait here,” Jisung says, making his way back around the corner to the kitchen and disappearing out of sight.

You can hear him shuffling about the kitchen, unzipping a bag and seemingly retrieving something from it.

“What are you doing?” You say in an amused tone, but you’re met with silence as Jisung continues whatever task he’s fulfilling.

A few seconds go by, and then a full minute, and Jisung has neither answered your question, nor has he reappeared from wherever he left off to.

“Jisung?” You call out, pausing the movie in case maybe you failed to hear his response. But he says nothing, and the shuffling about in the kitchen has audibly stopped.

You huff frustratedly, getting up from where you’re sitting to make your way into the kitchen, fully intending to scold Jisung for disappearing on you in the middle of movie night.

And as you turn the corner, you stop in your tracks, confused by the unsettling sight in the doorway to the hall.

It’s still Jisung, in his black muscle tank top and his sweatpants, standing silently with his gaze on yours. But plastered on his face, a white plastic mask, one resembling a clown’s, complete with red lips and a red nose, green tufts of hair and a big, toothy grin.

“What are you doing?” You ask, a soft chuckle emitting from your lips. Jisung says nothing, cocking his head to one side as he keeps his intense gaze locked on yours.

“Where the fuck did you even get that?” You query as you finally approach him, reaching a hand up to graze the hard plastic along your fingertips. “Did you just have this prepared for movie night?”

Jisung chuckles lightly, unable to keep serious for too long as he finally responds.

“It’s from the video set,” he finally says. “I asked if I could bring it home as a little memento.”

“This is your memento?” You retort. “This creepy mask?”

“I thought you weren’t scared of clowns,” Jisung remarks.

“Yeah, and I’m not scared of this one either. Especially not when I can see your biceps with that tank top, and your dick print through those pants. You look like some erotic actor for hire.”

Jisung laughs loudly from behind the mask, reaching up to steady two hands on the top of the doorway and leaning against it casually.

“Wait a minute,” Jisung remarks, as you scan his figure. “Is this… turning you on?”

“What?” You say, embarrassed you’ve let yourself make it so obvious. “Absolutely fucking not. It’s a literal Halloween costume.”

“It’s totally turning you on,” Jisung says, a melodic giggle escaping his lips. “You totally have a mask kink.”

“A what?” You say between bashful laughter. “Jisung, that’s something you probably have, not me. I’m not into weird shit.”

“I only have one if I know you have one,” Jisung explains. “If you get horny at the sight of some spooky mask on your boyfriend's sexy figure, then we might as well hit up the costume store and stock up.”

You don’t reply immediately, your mind wandering to the endless options a costume store would provide you with- ghosts, aliens, non-human entities with unsettling expressions. A whole list of masks Jisung could model for you.

Jisung raises his eyebrows when your gaze snaps back to him, understanding by your contemplation alone that he’s correct in his theory.

“Why don’t you let me fuck you while I wear this one,” Jisung proposes. “And if you like it, we can hit up the costume store.”

You’re reluctant to respond, not wanting him to hold the fact that he’s right against you. But when he coaxes you to come closer to him, you can’t decline, letting him take you in his embrace and run a hand along your cheek lovingly.

“You don’t have to be scared,” Jisung says, and you’re unsure whether he’s referring to the mask, or this newfound kink of yours. But he spins you around, pressing you to the frame of the doorway and pulling your panties down to your thighs.

“Are you already wet for me?” Jisung muses, dipping a finger down against your core and rubbing lightly. And you are, admittedly dripping for him, even more turned on at the sensation of the cold plastic pressing up against you as his face hovers behind yours.

“I knew it,” Jisung remarks, rubbing your clit in light motions. “You have a thing for masks, baby. That’s so fucking sexy.”

You can hear his sweatpants pool at his ankles as he undresses, his erection prodding into your upper thigh as he continues to rub you, small moans escaping your lips as he does. He’s slow and calculated with his movements, almost as though he’s continuing to gauge if you’re still into it. But he doesn’t have to be slow for much longer, taking careful note of the way you arch against the doorway into his touch.

“Will you put it in?” You ask politely, turning your head to catch a glimpse of the mask.

“Say you like the mask,” Jisung orders with a smirk not visible to you.

“What?”

“Say you’re into the mask,” Jisung says again. “Say it turns you on.”

“I don’t-”

“Say it, and I’ll fuck you in it,” Jisung emphasizes. You huff frustratedly, knowing you have no choice but to admit to the embarrassing fact if you want him to help you finish.

“I like it,” you say plainly.

“Like what?”

“The mask.”

“Say it in full.”

“I like the mask,” you echo, his fingers moving a little faster.

“Tell me how it makes you feel,” Jisung commands.

“It’s creepy,” you say to him. “Kinda feels like it’s someone else under there.”

“It’s definitely me,” Jisung muses. “I just have more power over you in it. Maybe if you cum for me, I’ll take it off and let you kiss me again. For now you’re gonna take whatever I give you.”

You swallow nervously, nodding as he keeps you pressed against the wall and wraps a hand around the base of his cock, guiding it to rest against your entrance as you hold your breath.

“Hold still for me,” Jisung orders. “I want this to feel good for you.”

And following his words, he slips his cock inside of you, being able to push inside of you with complete ease as you grasp the door frame with one hand. He feels a lot harder than you’re typically used to, evidently turned on at this, too. And once he’s buried to the hilt inside of you, the hand he’s been using to steady you wraps lightly around your throat, pulling you against the plastic of his mask as he begins to move.

Jisung’s heavy breathing is amplified behind the mask, his ragged breaths echoing off the plastic and into your ears. His grunts and moans sound inhuman like this, everything about him feeling like a complete mystery as he fucks you senselessly.

And you feel completely powerless in his hold, only being able to gasp in response as he works harsh thrusts in and out of you, your pussy contracting desperately around his girth as he fucks you.

“Are you scared?” Jisung asks, picking up his pace a little.

And you’re not scared of the mask, per se, but it is a little scary how much you’re turned on at this. The mystery of your boyfriend’s facial expressions behind the mask, the sounds completely unfamiliar to you, unable to kiss him or touch him properly and at his mercy while he fucks you. The shift in power has you seeing stars, Jisung wielding much more power over you when he’s in the mask, and well aware of it judging by the way he pulsates inside of you.

“It’s scary how fucking hot you look in that thing,” you confess breathlessly. “I wish you’d brought it home earlier.”

“There’s fear in arousal,” Jisung responds plainly, tugging your hair lightly and moving even faster now.

“I want you to let go for me completely, okay? Show me how much you like this thing.”

You nod eagerly in his grasp, feeling the way your stomach contracts at the sensation. His bulge almost protrudes against your stomach at this angle, hitting every sweet spot inside of you as he moves with such purpose, desperate to make you cum hard for him, so he can indulge you in a collection of masks in the future.

“Cum for me,” Jisung commands breathlessly. “Let go for me, baby. I’m not gonna take this off until you finish for me.”

Your cunt clenches down around his cock with such force, your moans coming out much higher pitched now as he grips your throat a little tighter and pulls your hips back against his.

“You love this,” Jisung voices, with you completely unable to respond to his words. “You love feeling unnerved while I use you, huh?”

And you nod eagerly in his touch, letting out a fervent moan as he slows his movements a little, holding each thrust inside of you for several seconds before pulling back and thrusting once more.

“Baby, I’m cumming,” you whimper pathetically, as he holds himself bottomed out inside of you.

And you feel your insides churn as your cunt clenches down around his cock, finally reaching your release and letting yourself squirt around his pulsing girth.

Jisung gasps when he feels it, and then he chuckles lightly, observing the way you make a complete mess of the floor and his cock.

When he pulls out, you’re quick to apologize, pulling your panties back up and scanning the room for towels.

“God, I made such a mess,” you remark disappointedly. “Sorry, let me-”

“Sorry?” Jisung retorts with a chuckle. “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. You totally have a mask kink for me, baby.”

As he speaks, he pulls the mask off over his head, discarding it on the kitchen table and meeting your gaze. Strands of his black hair are glued to his forehead in a sheen layer of sweat, his lips pulling into a toothy grin as he pulls you closer to him.

“I’m glad I brought that thing home,” Jisung remarks. “I never would’ve known that about you.”

“I wouldn’t have known either,” you say with a chuckle. “I guess we were both pleasantly surprised.”

Jisung pressed a series of chaste kisses to your lips, pulling away to head toward the kitchen counter for paper towels.

“I’ll get this cleaned up,” Jisung says. “In the meanwhile, think about what you want from the costume store tomorrow.”

He rips a sheet off the roll, approaching you once again and kneeling on the floor to clean the mess.

“Aliens?” Jisung asks, wiping the puddle off the floor. “Werewolves? Orcs? Goblins?”

And you smile down at him, endeared at the way he’s so open to embracing all your kinks, regardless of what they may be.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

sw: not quite detailed but all 3 characters are tipsy/slightly intoxicated, pain play, nipple play, mommy/daddy kink, bunny reader as in she’s dressed as a bunny, eiffel tower, face fucking, threesome,

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

“they’re staring again.”

seungmin speaks as if it’s fact, truth, sworn by the gods, and maybe it is. his hands come to fix the bunny ears perched on your head, perfectly folding one ear, before they slide down and rest on your shoulders. 

“go and talk to them.”

“no,” you say, determined, because you’ll be damned if you’re starting a conversation with them first. minho and jeongin look at you every damn party. the two football players are practically fixated on you, despite the fact that you’ve barely said a few words to eachother, and jisung’s new years bash was obviously not going to be any different. “they’re not staring. maybe they’re just… lost in thought. dissociating.”

except when you look at them, across the living room of the frat’s way too large house, they are looking directly at you. jeongin’s white tank top is tight on his body, and you have to force yourself not to stare. both him and minho are dressed in some saltburn-esque costumes tonight; jeongin’s got two golden wings encasing his body, and minho’s wearing two horns on his head to match, blazer open and displaying an expanse of milky skin across his chest and stomach. jeongin leans over to say something to minho, and you see his tummy quiver as he laughs.

you’re trying not to look at minho altogether, actually. his eyes narrow upon seeing you returning his stare, and he licks his lips, predatory. realistically, you’ve never wanted anything more than you want those two men, and your fantasies actually tend to go a lot further than people would think. perhaps they even delve into the realm of something domestic, your thoughts even revolving around a relationship between the three of you, but you’d never admit that.  

“i’m not watching you play a sexy little game of cat and mouse all night,” seungmin huffs, rolling his eyes, but you know he’s invested. if anything did happen, he’d beg for the details. “frat boys don’t get lost in thought. i don’t think they have the capacity to think.” 

the baseball jersey on his back swamps his frame and billows as he walks away to find a drink, before you can protest that seungmin is a frat boy himself. you’re left with your own company and whatever concoction felix handed to you when you walked in.

you turn back to stare. you sip the drink and stare at the emptiness of the room. minho and jeongin are gone. you hear the distant laughter of the other frat boys in a different room, but you can't bring yourself to envy them. you take a deep breath and remind yourself that you can make your own way, without giving into the temptation of those two football players.  

it’s all looking good until you turn to find seungmin, and jeongin is suddenly in front of you, eyes fixated upon your figure. it makes you jump, and the presence of another body behind you encroaches into your personal space. 

“are you finally going to come to bed with us tonight?” minho’s tone is level, firm. you bristle like a frightened cat, body seizing up, hand tightening on your glass. his hand comes up to grip your jaw, forcing you to turn and look at him. the horns on his head make him look devilish, sinful. his lips stretch into a smile, but it’s fake. “don’t be scared of me, little bunny. i’m not going to hurt you.”

“he will,” jeongin’s at your front all of a sudden, that damned tank top highlighting everything you’re trying hard not to look at. two golden wings encompass you, sheltering you into this little bubble of you, jeongin and minho, unable to see anything beyond two firm bodies. jeongin smirks, tongue licking over his teeth. it’s awfully predatory, and you do feel like a little bunny - except you’re caught between two big bad wolves. he knows you feel cornered. it was his plan, if anything. “i’ll hurt you too, if that’s what you want?”

god, yes. you do. the acts of dominance have your thighs squeezing together, and you lick your lips before gulping nervously.

“it’s. uh- you’re-”

jeongin raises his eyebrows. he looks at you, then to minho, then smiles, scrunching his nose.

“don’t be nervous,” he murmurs, hand smoothing down the side of your skimpy little bodysuit. you’re feeling quite exposed, legs clad in fishnets and stupid bunny tail perched above your ass - minho squeezes it as if to remind you that it’s there. “it’s just us. you do want us, right?”

you’re fumbling the moment. minho’s quiet for now, but you hear him hum, questioning. you have to will yourself to speak, to admit that yeah, you have been staring back for so damn long and yes, you do want them. 

“sometimes i want you so bad it hurts.”

“then it’s settled, bunny. you’ll meet us upstairs in five?” jeongin’s thumb swipes over your bottom lip, and you bounce in your sneakers, way too excited. is this real? is this actually happening? you realise he’s waiting for a response, an expectant expression crossing his face, and you nod. 

“i’ll meet you upstairs in five.”

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

as soon as the bedroom door shuts minho’s got you pinned against the wall. you assumed he’d be the one taking control, and you hear jeongin walk over to the double bed in the middle of the room. he’s fumbling with the sheets, but you can’t hear anything over the sound of your ears ringing - minho presses his lips to yours, chaste and sweet. 

“let me know if i’m going too fast,” another kiss, this time a little longer. you chase his lips with yours when he pulls away, and he giggles softly, eyes scrunching with his smile. one of his hands comes down to squeeze your bunny tail again. “we don’t have to do anything at all. we can just talk, get to know eachother-”

whether it’s the liquid courage in your blood or not, you kiss him again, murmuring against his mouth. “i want you both. i’ve wanted you both for so long, you have to have known.”

jeongin is next to you again, kissing your neck. you’re too involved with minho to notice, finally, finally getting to kiss him properly, tongue darting into his mouth. he lets you, but as soon as it gets overeager, he’s pinning you back to dominate your lips again. his lips are thick, domineering, and the presence of jeongin’s breath on your skin ensures that you don’t forget that you’re inbetween your two dream men. 

when minho pulls away with a sharp nip to your bottom lip, you’re gasping. “you- you guys want me too?”

“we made that clear,” jeongin grunts. minho’s horns tickle your neck when he leans down to bite at your collarbone. you’re too exposed, despite being clothed, and you allow jeongin to coax you both over to the bed. you think this is jeongin’s room, judging by the weed paraphernalia on his dresser and the pictures of him and minho on the wall. it almost feels a little invasive to be in here, only knowing what seungmin has told you about the two, but they seem to be along the lines of fuck now, think later.

once you reach the bed, the motions are blurry. jeongin sprawls across his sheets, long limbs splayed and erection way too prominent in his black jeans, and minho pushes you onto the mattress. he’s rougher yet clearly the one in control, and it makes you worry for what jeongin’s got in store. the latter pulls you by the waist on top of him, settling you right over his erection, and minho’s behind you again. you realise he likes to be behind you, and whether or not that’s to keep his view of your ass, you’re unsure - but he leans down and nips at the exposed skin of your asscheek, making you jolt with a squeal, landing fully on top of jeongin this time.

the elder of the two is speaking before you can recollect yourself. “i mean, there’s obviously a connection here, right?” minho murmurs, one digit hooking under the strap of your black bodysuit. he drags it down your shoulder, and jeongin’s eyes follow it, his body shuffling beneath you.  “we stare at you. you stare back. we know you talk about us. we want each other.”

“w-we do,” you grind on jeongin’s bulge. his blush spreads to his neck, bright pink, displaying his arousal. his jeans are tight on his crotch and it looks painful - you want to rid him of his confines, but minho’s little fingers finally pull your bodysuit cup down and tweak your nipple. you’re braless underneath the bodysuit - there was no other way - and the cold air has your back arching. 

jeongin’s hands are insistent. with still-wet lips, his fingers reach down to unclip your bodysuit, and he’s quickly ripping your fishnets open to get to your core. you’re jostled around on top of him, and minho’s fingertips are rough over both of your nipples. 

“what will you let us do to you?” jeongin questions. his breath is heavy, and he finally manages to shove your underwear out of the way. it’s messy, too fast, but your pussy is accepting when he slides two long fingers into your hole. you whine at the intrusion, and minho’s thumbnail scrapes over your areola, causing ripples of pain to make you shout. “can we do anything we want to you?”

“a-anything, you can do anything,” moaning, you will yourself to speak, and it doesn’t cross your mind that they might really take you up on it. minho’s teeth sink into your neck, and his hands move to rip your bodysuit off of your head. once you’re naked, save for the ripped fishnets and panties shoved to the side, jeongin finally starts to move his fingers inside of you. the feeling drives you insane, the way he’s so deep it has your thighs trembling around his hips, and minho groans at the sight.

“anything? really?” he begins, and you want to take it back, but his fingers pinch your clit. your thighs clench sharply around jeongin, and you can’t help but keen. “what if mommy and daddy wanted to piss on you, baby, huh? is that still okay?”

mommy and daddy? your head spins.

“f-fuck, minho, oh my god,” you clench your eyes shut, hand gripping jeongin’s wrist. minho’s hands move back to your tits, jiggling the flesh in his hands before pinching down on your nipples to the point you’re wailing, hips bucking into jeongin. his fingers speed up. they want an answer. “yes! yes, you can, iyennie, daddy, you can piss on me. mommy, you too, i’m yours, i’m your bunny.”

“lean forward,” minho instructs, so you do. your tits are level with jeongin’s face and he leans up to suck on a nipple blindly, cheeks crimson. his fingers still pump inside of you, but his wrist is shoved away by minho, who presses the blunt tip of his cock against your hole as soon as it’s empty. it’s all too fast, too intense, but you moan and reach back to spread your asscheeks for him regardless. minho groans. “fuck, i can’t wait. i’m gonna piss inside you, dirty little bunny. are you gonna take it for me?”

“i-i’ll take it, i’ll take it,” you babble, and your eyes settle on jeongin. his hair is mussed, and you use it to pull his head back, facing you. you catch his lips with yours before minho pushes in, and you whine at the stretch. it’s too much, even with jeongin’s fingers inside of you stretching you beforehand, and you wish you’d caught sight of his cock before. you’ll just have to hope this happens again. “iyennie, daddy, will you- will you do it too?”

“i’m not fuckin’ you this time, bunny, minho-hyung said so,” jeongin says quietly, and he sounds almost embarrassed. you realise it was all planned out at the same time minho starts moving, cock thrusting into you steadily, and you can only moan incoherently. jeongin coos, fingers repositioning your bunny ears as they start to jostle out of place. “‘s that nice? it’s big, right?”

“s-so big, so big, mommy-”

“pussy’s so fucking wet,” minho groans, and you just about manage to turn to see him. jeongin helps you, hand positioned on your jaw, and you catch sight of minho fucking his cock inside of you. his pubes are already wet with your essence, and once his eyes see you looking back at him, those bunny teeth bite into his bottom lip sharply. “you want it? i’m gonna piss inside y-you, bun, you want it deep?”

“feels so good inside, bunny, minho-hyung did it to me before,” jeongin’s whispering, but you can hear him clearly, and the realisation that they’ve fucked before is enough to do you in. your pussy clenches down, and you’re cumming before you can think about it, hole creaming over minho’s thick, thick cock. minho chuckles victoriously, and jeongin groans, shoving you down by your shoulders to wrench himself out from underneath you. he unbuttons his jeans and shoves them down to his thighs, tugging his cock out from his boxers to pump his shaft to the sight of you and minho together. minho fucks you harder once jeongin’s pulled his cock out, not unnoticed by you. “i-is that hot? that we’ve fucked before?”

“y-yes! god, i wanna- i wanna watch it, and- and i wanna play, too, all the time, will you let me? will you- fuck, mommy, daddy, mommy, please piss inside my p-pussy!”

“dirty bitch,” minho mumbles, palm smacking your ass. “daddy, fuck her mouth. keep her quiet.”

jeongin’s hand tightens around the base of his shaft, and he forces it past your lips. you open your mouth obediently and let him inside, mouth stretching around his girth. minho thrusts once, twice, and then he’s pressing in deep to let go - you feel the wetness of his piss inside of you, and you groan around jeongin, encouraging him to fuck into your mouth steadily. he only fucks inside a few times before he’s groaning and pulling out with a hiss. 

“m-maybe i’ll- hyung, can i? i need to go too, i wanna- on her tits, hyung, can i?”

“yeah, fuck- let me fucking see it, iyennie. show hyung.”

you’re wrenched upwards again by minho’s fist in your hair, forced to take his cock while he pulls your back against his chest. it’s deep, so overwhelming that all you can do is cry out and take, take, take, your pussy squelching with the mess. you pray for jeongin’s sheets, especially when he aims his cockhead at your tits and finally lets go, cock spurting piss over your skin. 

you can feel minho’s gaze burning, his hand coming up to rub the liquid into you, pinching your nipples on the way. you’re fully limp, head floaty and still so fucking horny. minho fucks into you, rough and debauched, and then you’re empty, falling forward if not for jeongin holding you up.

“i’m gonna cum- oh fuck, oh fuck, i’m gonna cum, bunny, stay still,” minho’s cock is drenched from your pussy and the liquid he filled you with, and you want to suck it, but you’re wrenched backwards by your hair. minho pumps his cock erratically, thick shaft filling his small hand until he releases all over your tits. you feel like a mess, debauched, and jeongin’s moaning so loud you know that if the music was any quieter everyone would know what you three are up to. 

jeongin fucks into his fist again, and minho flops next to him, chest flushed beneath that open blazer. you realise you’re all still relatively clothed, jeongin’s tank top and wings still on his body and jeans only just shoved down. his cock leaks precum on his clothes as he pumps it, still hard despite pissing all over you. minho pulls you down next to him. 

“you need to get inside, iyennie.”

“hyung, you said-”

“i don’t care, feels too good. you need to feel it.”

it’s a simple statement and you’re fucked too dumb to consider anything, thighs only spreading apart for jeongin to settle in between them. jeongin’s cock isn’t as thick as minho’s but god is it long, and it presses into your cervix as soon as he sinks inside with a sharp grunt. his hair hangs over his face as he repositions you, bending your limp legs back to your chest, making the angle so much deeper. tears bite at your eyes. 

“‘s so much, it’s- fuck, daddy, does it feel good?” you mumble, licking over dry lips, and minho strokes over your cheek fondly. jeongin fucks into you, pace picking up, and you’ve almost forgotten about the cum and piss all over your tits until his tongue starts to lick at your skin. 

“fuck, that’s filthy, iyennie,” minho groans, hand pushing jeongin’s hair back from his face. you can see him better like this, and you keen, hands gripping on the sheets beneath you. your pussy feels raw, abused, but his incessant thrusts have you barrelling towards your second orgasm. “c’mere, give me a kiss, baby.”

you think minho’s talking to you, but his lips connect with jeongin’s. you can see their tongues messily sliding over eachother’s, an open mouthed, spit-filled kiss. you’re nearly there, orgasm just in sight, but jeongin fucks inside of you a few more times until you feel him spilling his cum inside of you, moaning against minho’s mouth. 

you let out a loud disappointed whine, and minho turns to face you. while there’s a playful look in his eyes, you know that he feels somewhat sorry for you, and he ushers jeongin to pull out and leave you spread in front of them. the younger’s cum drips out of your hole, and jeongin places a sweet kiss on your clit before moving out of the way. 

minho’s shoulders are so broad that you have to spread your legs wider to let him in. he settles between your thighs, and then his lips latch around your clit. he’s impatient, suckling loud and wet to make you cry out, and when his tongue dips down to collect the cum from your hole you reach out to grip onto jeongin.

“that’s it, ‘s that nice?” jeongin murmurs, lips brushing against your cheek. he’s spent, but he still holds you close to him, letting you ride out the pleasure minho’s making you feel. “he loves eating cum. he’s a slut for it, honestly.”

minho moans against you, little hands coming to pull your core closer to his mouth. it’s when minho’s teeth brush over your clit that you jolt, hand gripping onto his dark head of hair, and then you’re cumming, shrieking and squealing through the most pleasurable thing you’ve felt in your life. it lasts longer than the last one, pleasure biting at your spine like electricity. 

when you come to, you’re resting on jeongin’s chest while minho rolls a joint. despite being preoccupied, the latter isn’t far away, his legs slung over yours on the bed. you’re pretty sure the sheets have been changed, and you’re relatively clean, wearing an oversized t-shirt and joggers that must belong to one of the two, or both. 

“so,” you croak, stretching your arms above your head. you try to clear your throat, and jeongin laughs, running the back of his knuckles over your exposed arms. minho perks up at the sound of your voice, and smiles when he sees you’re lucid, wearing nothing but his boxers and a hoodie. his thighs are thick and exposed, and you can’t help your gaze from running over them. “am i the only one who napped?”

“yeah, we got you cleaned up while you passed out,” jeongin informs, and you hum, nodding. when you turn to him he looks shy, cheeks pink, and he scrunches his nose up before speaking again. “you don’t… regret anything, right? we went a little hard for the first time together.”

first time? meaning there’ll be more? you grin, shaking your head. “it was perfect. i like it like that, for future reference.”

“i could tell,” minho quips, and you giggle. “are you wanting to smoke with us now that you’re awake? the party’s over, by the way.”

you blink, sitting up. “minho, i slept through the whole party? where’s seungmin and felix?”

“asleep in their rooms,” he fiddles with the rolling paper, raising an eyebrow. “are you telling me you’re not happy to be here?”

it's a rhetorical question - he knows you are, you're sated and fucked and laying there with a grin on your face.

A silence fills the room as the fireplace crackles in front of you both, the warmth wafting through the room and draping over your languid bodies. It’s not often you get drunk with your best friend like this, but on a Friday night when it’s pouring outside, it’s easy to get carried away after just a few sips of wine.

“I need to go home,” you say finally, though you make no effort to rise from your spot on the rug.

“In the rain?” Chan muses, chuckling lightly. “Yeah, right. As if I’d let you drive home like this.”

“Then I’ll call a cab.”

“Just sleep here. The fire’s already on, and it’s late.”

He keeps his eyes shut, a small smile on his face still, as another silence overtakes you both.

Chan’s chest rises and falls with every heavy breath, his tipsy state failing to coax a proper sentence out of him. And then he begins to say something, swiftly cut off by your interjecting speech.

“Maybe I’ll just call Changbin,” you say finally. You ponder briefly what your friends with benefits arrangement is up to tonight- probably out at a club, or at some raging house party. But realistically, never busy enough for a quick fuck.

“Why?” Chan queries, opening his eyes to glance at your lying figure now. You don’t meet his gaze, keeping your hands crossed over your chest still, as you stare at the ceiling.

“He asked me to call him. Said he wanted to catch up.”

“Yeah, or just wants a quick fuck,” Chan states boldly. “He’s not really the listening type.”

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion at the way Chan speaks of his friend, sitting up to meet his gaze at last.

“He’s a great listener, actually. And you know that, being his best friend and all.”

“My bad,” he scoffs. “He’s probably real good when his dick’s inside you.”

He looks visibly bothered now, one hand toying with a loose thread on the rug, as he averts your gaze entirely. He bites his tongue from saying more, though he’s also pleased at the prospect of finally saying what he’s always wanted to.

“What- why would you say that? What’s gotten into you?”

“He uses you for sex, and he doesn’t give a shit about you. Don’t call him.”

“Then what do you suggest I do?”

“Stay here.”

“I’m not really keen on staying here considering you’re being a total jerk. I’m heading out, I’ll catch you later.”

Chan sits up fully now, feeling sobered up at the thought of you leaving when you’re already this angry with him.

“Don’t go,” he pleads, his eyebrows arching up in desperation. “I’m sorry. I’m just drunk. I shouldn’t have said anything. It was stupid.”

“Why would you even say that?” You ask, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. “You’re never this mean when you’re drunk. Changbin does care about me.”

“Yeah, and so do I,” he protests.

“Well you sure don’t act like it.”

“Maybe I’m just trying not to make things so painfully obvious.”

“Make what obvious?”

“That I like you,” Chan says finally, exhaling frustratedly. He shakes his head, immediately regretting the words as they escape his lips, and then he shrugs when he catches your gaze again.

“Happy?” He questions. “I like you. And that’s why I can’t stand that you’re fucking my best friend these days. That’s why I wanted you to stay. But it’s no use when you’re this oblivious. Leave if you want to, I don’t care anymore. Just don’t make me spell it out again.”

Chan crosses his arms over his knees, pulling them in against his chest, as he keeps his gaze on the fireplace. He watches as the flames rise up to emit little sparks from their light, crackling amidst the deafening silence between the two of you. Your gaze falls to the fire, too, observing the way it seems to burn much brighter than it had before. And then you take a sharp breath, before speaking again.

“You like me?”

Chan scoffs.

“Yeah, I just told you. And all you ever do is talk about Changbin, and how he-”

“You’re drunk,” you tell him. Chan chuckles lightly at your statement, nodding in the direction of his glass of wine.

“I’m a little drunk,” he says. “But also more sober than I was an hour ago. And my feelings were the same then, and they’re the same now. They’ve been the same for five years now.”

You finally turn to look at him, admiring the strands of hair that hang loosely in his face, as he keeps his head hung in shame.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“And risk being embarrassed? I’d take the repressed feelings over that any day.”

He stares back into the fire, shrugging casually. “Though I guess it’s a little late for that now.”

“It’s not late,” you say quickly, your lips pulling into a smile. “You don’t have to be embarrassed, because I like you, too. And I thought… maybe the feelings would lessen, if I put myself out there more.”

Chan finally turns to look at you, a shocked expression on his face, as he makes sense of your words.

“You… do?”

“I did,” you correct him. His shoulders slouch visibly, and he nods in understanding.

“But the feelings were the same when I was with Changbin, and they’re the same now. And they’ve been the same for several years now.”

Chan smiles now, letting out a nervous laugh, and then his expression softens.

“What now?” He asks. The fireplace glows upon his chiseled face, glimmering in his dark pupils, as he awaits a response. You take notice of the way a flustered blush creeps upon his cheeks, and you’re not certain you’ve ever seen him so shy before.

It’s not a question that prompts a reply from you, as you scoot a little closer to him, and opt to kiss him instead. Chan is taken aback by the action, momentarily forgetting to shut his eyes when you finally press your lips to his. But when he finally does, his hands unclasp from around his knees, shifting his body closer to you as he reciprocates with eager passion, a clear indication of how badly he’s wanted this.

A gasp escapes from your lips when Chan reaches forward to shrug your sweater off your body and onto the rug below you, his hands now snaking their way to your waist and pulling you onto his lap. He caresses the small of your back in circular motions as he resumes kissing you, his actions quickly turning more desperate when you snake your hands underneath his t-shirt to graze over his chiseled abs. Chan can feel his stomach tense at the contact, growing hard when you shift lower to touch just above the waistband of his jeans, and then he overtakes you with his muscular build, pushing you back to the floor as he hovers over you, his kisses working down to your neck and jawline. It’s an unspoken, yet mutual agreement that’s about to unfold between the two of you- and by the way your body shivers underneath his touch, you’re certain that you’ve wanted this a long time, too.

“Is this okay?” Chan asks when he pulls away momentarily to gauge your reaction. You nod eagerly, and Chan proceeds to cross his arms over his torso to pull his t-shirt off over his head, discarding it beside him and meeting your lips once more. His kisses grow hungrier, needier, as you arch up into him, and then you pull your own shirt off over your head, parting from him momentarily to discard it along with his.

Chan wastes no time burying his face into the crook of your neck, taking your flesh between his teeth to leave a generous trail of bruises. He makes them dark enough so that Changbin will be sure to see them- and so that he’ll have some way of knowing this isn’t just a dream when it’s all over.

“Chan,” you breathe out, tangling your fingers in his hair as he resumes leaving hickies.

“Yes, baby,” he responds, and your heart skips a beat at the utterance of a pet name.

“Go slow,” you then ask, and he pauses to meet your gaze. “I want it to last.”

Chan chuckles at your request, tugging his pants down in tandem with his boxers, as he finally frees his throbbing erection. You undress your lower half, too, snaking your panties down and allowing them to pool around your ankles, and then he grips the base of his cock, holding it steadily against you, as he comes down to kiss you once more.

“I don’t know that I’m gonna be able to go slow with you,” he says with a smile. “But we can go as many times as you’d like.”

When he finishes speaking, he glances down at where his tip rests against your wetness, positioning himself before steadying himself with one hand on the floor beside you.

“Ready?” He asks. And when you nod, taking your lower lip between your teeth as he finally slides in, you let out an involuntary moan when he’s finally inside you.

He’s bigger than you’d expected, and more vocal, a series of grunts escaping his lips as he pushes himself inside of you. He starts off at a slow pace like you’d asked, pulling himself away from you to then rut his hips against yours, as he indulges you in a sweet kiss. But he’s quickly overtaken with pleasure, intoxicated in the sensation of your pussy taking him with complete ease.

“Fucking hell,” Chan remarks, slowing his pace to graze his lips over yours. He doesn’t kiss you, simply letting his mouth hang agape over yours, heavy breaths swirling against yours with every thrust.

As he thrusts into you a little slower now, his hands find your bra, skillfully unclasping it with one hand and allowing it to fall limply at your sides.

He smirks when he catches sight of your nipples completely erect for him, your breasts bouncing gracefully with every push of his hips. His lips trail down to your throat, tracing the goosebumps along your flesh with the flicker of his tongue. And then he lowers his head to your left breast, taking your mound in his mouth, as his lips come to a point around your nipple. Chan’s tongue swirls around your breast as he fucks you, his hands coming around the small of your back to arch your figure further up into him. And you gasp in pleasure at the sensation, your eyebrows arching up in pleasure much like the rest of your delicate figure, as he quickens his pace again. He doesn’t cease producing a symphony of satisfied groans, throbbing inside of you with every clench of your cunt around him.

“Changbin can’t fuck you like this,” Chan states, earning a groan from you.

“You’re still jealous,” you reply, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“I prefer possessive,” He corrects you, picking up the pace as he grazes his lips over yours. You can still taste the faint flavor of beer on his tongue as he swirls it around yours, coming down to take your right breast in his mouth now.

“You don’t know how long I dreamt of this, baby.”

He places repeated, open-mouthed kisses along your sternum, and then he meets your lips again.

“Say I’m better than him,” he commands, before pushing into you with a particularly harsh thrust. You begin to tease him for it, but your nails dig into his flesh when he pushes into you with another harsh thrust, earning a fervent moan from you.

“Say it,” he says again, and you shut your eyes, eyebrows arching up in pleasure to trail your fingertips over his back.

“You’re better than him,” you say finally, wrapping your legs around his waist.

“Yeah?” He says for the second time this evening, and you nod eagerly.

“He could never fuck me like this. I waited so long, too. For this. For you.”

It’s your words that assist Chan in reaching his release, a stifled groan emitting from the back of his throat as he pushes into you one last time to fill you with his hot load, his mouth hanging open in a blissful state of euphoria as he feels his fluids leak out of you.

It doesn’t take long for you to follow suit, legs remaining wrapped around his waist, as you clench around him rhythmically and let out a series of pornographic moans. And when Chan begins to slow his breathing, your shared fluids finding purchase on the rug beneath you, he hangs his head over yours, his lips pulling into a tired smile.

“Stay here,” he pleads, placing a series of kisses along your jawline. “Don’t call Changbin.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” you tell him, smiling up at him, fingers tangling in his hair as he kisses you.

The fireplace sets his tanned skin aglow, a sheen layer of sweat on his forehead as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. And all that can be heard are the crackles of the now-dying fire, as he trails kisses further down your chest, already anticipating a second round.

He does as told, hands reaching around to fold behind the back of the chair, as you undo the rope and begin to loop it around his torso. Minho is quiet, nothing more than a slight gasp escaping his lips when you pull it taut to knot it once, and then twice, ensuring he’s completely incapable of reaching out to touch you.

You bend down to meet his nervous gaze, an apathetic expression on your face as you tilt his chin up to look at you.

“You’ve been so good for me,” you say to him, grazing your nails along his jawline. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Minho just nods at your words, eagerly awaiting your next move, as your hand caresses his cheek. You hoist yourself onto his lap in a swift motion, feeling his erection grow against your crotch when you lean in to kiss him, reciprocated by the gentle movement of his lips against yours.

And then your face buries into the crook of his neck, your lips parting over his throat to graze your teeth against it. Minho doesn’t feel it immediately when you first litter kisses along his flesh, simply leaving a trail of your red lipstick against his tanned skin. And then he winces when your sharp fangs protrude to press against his throat, the two points sinking against the goosebumps that raise just enough to draw two beads of crimson. He begins with a nervous gasp, never having felt anything like it- and then he shuts his eyes to relish in the sensation of your tongue darting out to suck him clean again. When you pull away to observe the two dots you’ve left on his neck, you tilt your head at the sight, before running a finger over it.

“I could sink my teeth right into you,” you say to Minho. He’s not sure if it’s a threat, or a simple fact, blinking rapidly in response to your words. He also ponders if you mean it in a state of arousal, or simply some twisted desire to inflict pain- but either way, he remains silent at your words.

“Don’t worry,” you continue, bringing your finger up to suck the remains. “I won’t.”

Minho nods for the second time this evening, observing as you hoist yourself off his lap and stand in front of him again. You drop to your knees in front of him, hands resting on his knees as your eyes scan the tent pitched underneath his pants, and then your fingers find their way to the zipper of his pants, pulling it down slowly to reveal his clothed bulge.

Minho’s breath hitches in the back of his throat as your mouth engulfs his still-clothed cock, letting the fabric of his boxers be enwreathed in your puckered lips as you stimulate sucking him off. He squirms again in his seat, desperate to reach out and touch you, but unable to, the rope sinking deep into his forearms as he pushes against it.

“Tell me what you want,” you say to him, pulling away to scan his expression. “Tell me how you want me to touch you.”

“Suck me,” Minho groans desperately. He glances down at his own cock, and the patch of wetness that grows against his boxers. And you smile at him, tugging his boxers down to reveal his bare flesh to you. His cock stands fully erect, leaking with beads of precum at the thought of you tasting him. His breath hitches in the back of his throat when you lean forward to dribble a string of spit down his girth, and then you finally envelop him between your lips, lowering your head down to the base of his girth and back up to his leaky pink tip. Minho lets out a fervent moan when you do, his muscular thighs contracting below you as your hands navigate to rest upon them. You swirl your tongue around his girth, coating his flesh in a sheen layer of saliva, before bobbing your head back down to the base and leaving a trail of needy kisses.

“You taste so good,” you muse at him, pulling away to wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. He gasps when he feels you dig your nails into the bare flesh of his thigh, leaning forward again to coat his tip in wet, repeated kisses.

Before he can reply, Minho watches your face hover to the right of his cock, your mouth grazing over the skin of his thigh as your breath swirls against him. You look up through your eyelashes, bringing your lips forward to press a kiss to the toned skin of his sculpted thigh. And then your mouth parts a little wider, your fangs extending a second time to sink against his skin in a hungry motion. Minho winces when you prick him, drawing two more miniscule dots of blood from his skin, your tongue darting out to trace around the mark and lick him clean. His cock twitches at the sensation, a single bead of cum dribbling down his length as you bite a little deeper, earning a breathless gasp from him. He trusts that you won’t go any deeper than this, having already allowed you to bind him to the chair where he can’t reach out to stop you. But his mind spins in a euphoric daze, also instantly aroused at the sensation, somehow still wishing you’d sink your teeth a little deeper and pierce him entirely.

“Does it hurt?” You ask up through an innocent gaze, pulling away to watch two lines of blood trickle from the barely-visible marks on his thigh.

“Feels good,” Minho voices confidently, squeezing his thighs together and transferring a streak of crimson onto his other thigh.

You smile at him, musing at his unwavering trust in you, before leaning forward to take his cock in your mouth again. He realizes your fangs are still partially extended, grazing against his flesh in slow motions as you take him whole. But you go much gentler this time, careful not to accidentally injure him, as your tongue lunges out to do most of the work.

“Gonna… cum…” Minho manages to breathe out, his thighs squirming below you. You say nothing in response, simply letting your mouth work him to a frenzy, as his words quickly transition to whimpers.

His gaze doesn’t leave the sight of your gleaming white fangs sinking down around his girth, your tongue darting out to swirl around the sheen layer of saliva that coats him. His hands grasp the rope that bounds them behind his back, pressing into his skin to leave marks in his flesh, and then his head hangs when he feels you graze your teeth along his girth one more time.

For a moment, Minho worries that you actually will sink your teeth into him this time, taking note of the way your fangs remain extended now, glimmering under the dim lights that hang over him. Your pale skin glows as your eyes turn a dark shade of red, looking up at him with an unreadable expression. He braces himself for the contact, his thighs pressing against the bottom of the chair as he squirms helplessly in his seat.

And then when you lower your head once more, just barely grazing your pointed teeth against his flesh, he practically convulses in his seat, his cock dribbling a steady, thick stream of cum at the sight of you.

You chuckle watching him gasp through his orgasm, his hands making every effort to reach out and touch you. And it’s fascinating to watch him finish for you, his head somewhere in a daze between aroused and fearful, a newfound string of sexual curiosities circling his mind when you finally pull away from him again.

“How was that?” You ask Minho, reaching forward to undo the thick rope that bounds his hands.

“That was…” he starts to say, chuckling sheepishly before he can finish. His breathing is still labored when his hands are free once more, his palms imprinted with deep marks as he extends and wiggles his fingers.

“Good?” You conclude for him, and Minho nods breathlessly.

“I thought so, too,” you say, a small smile on your lips. “I could just sink my teeth right into you.”

“I’m so hard,” Changbin replies sheepishly, glancing down at his groin. He attempts to move, stifled by your firm stance, and then he audibly groans when you shift up a little higher.

“Fuck, baby. Don’t tease me like that.”

You’re just inches from his still-clothed cock now, your naked lower half straddling his thighs eagerly as he awaits some form of relief.

“Tease you?” You retort, scoffing lightly. “I’m not teasing you. Teasing you would mean I wasn’t intending to do anything about it.”

He groans at the implications, letting his hands find your waist as you finally move up to straddle his hard cock over his boxers, squeezing your thighs lightly around his broad frame.

“Jesus,” Changbin says with a breathy gasp. He throws his head back when you grind lightly against him, placing your hands over his to move them back down to his sides.

“No touching,” you command, and Changbin swallows back the urge to dispute your orders.

You loop two fingers into the waistband of his boxers, tugging them down below the sculpted v-line that precedes his erection. And then you lean forward to place a chaste kiss along the exposed strip of flesh, just barely lifting your hips to create a gap between his body and yours.

“Tell me what you want,” you say to him, meeting his anticipatory gaze once more.

“Ride me,” Changbin says quickly, his eyebrows arched up in a desperate expression. His toned thighs flex with every slight movement of yours, breath hitched in the back of his throat as he awaits your next move.

“You want me to ride you?” You repeat, and Changbin nods eagerly.

“Please, fuck I’ve been thinking about it all day. Just want to fill you up, baby.”

You smirk in reaction to the way he whines, finally freeing his erection from his boxers and glancing down at his cock. His tip is already leaking, a bead of precum dribbling down the side of his girth, as he squirms beneath you.

“You could’ve just asked next time,” you say with a smile, letting your hands grip the base of his cock. Changbin doesn’t reply this time, steadying his breath as he watches you position yourself over him. You let his tip graze your clit briefly, letting out an involuntary gasp at the contact.

And then you finally part your legs over him, guiding his cock inside of you and rocking your hips back and forth until he’s completely bottomed out inside of you.

Changbin doesn’t speak for a moment- or rather, he can’t, simply letting out a string of breathy cuss words as he adjusts to the sensation. He ruts his hips up in an attempt to fuck up into you, before lifting his head from his pillow to catch a glimpse of the sight.

And it’s clear when he does meet the lewd sight of you, by the way his breath hitches in the back of his throat again, simply letting out a stifled “fuck.”

His voice comes out in a whiny tone, his jaw clenching when you begin to move up and down his length, letting your wet cunt envelop him in painfully slow movements.

Changbin’s eyes fall to your stomach, and his eyebrows arch when he observes the protruding bulge that forms against your abdomen, as his cock buries to the hilt inside of you and pulsates with every desire to fill you up.

“Fuck, you’re so full of me,” Changbin remarks, reaching out in an attempt to graze the pads of his fingers along the sight.

“No touching,” you repeat, lowering his hands to his sides again. “God, you’re desperate, huh?”

He nods in response, not taking his gaze off your stomach, and the sight of your cunt taking him so fully.

You continue your movements up and down his cock, sitting a little longer every time you come back down, allowing the tip of his cock to graze every inch of your insides.

“Like that?” You ask him, glancing down at your own stomach, too. “See how deep you get? It’s all you.”

He groans again when you quicken your pace, crossing your arms over your chest now. Changbin is desperate to reach out and touch you- to kiss you, to run his hands along the bulge in your stomach. But you deny him the contact, shaking your head every time his hands move in an attempt to hold you.

“I’m gonna cum,” Changbin says, his eyes squeezed shut when he feels you purposefully clench around him.

“Yeah?” You say to him. “You can- after I do.”

He throws his head back, almost frustrated at your words, as you resume the action of clenching your muscles around his girth. Changbin’s voice seems to raise two octaves as he lets out desperate, stifled whimpers, his hips thrusting up into you for some relief. You don’t prohibit him from the action, in fact now gasping for air when he begins to fuck up into you, the bulge in your stomach only increasing with every thrust.

“Changbin, I’m gonna finish,” you manage to breathe out, steadying yourself with the palms of your hands flat on his broad torso. He grunts in response when you let out a particularly loud moan, and then you finally reach your own finish, your cunt contracting in tandem with his pulsating cock.

Changbin doesn’t slow his thrusts when you finish- in fact, he goes faster now, his hips rutting up eagerly as his gaze meets your stomach again. He observes the way the bulge formed by his erection seems to expand and then shrink when every movement, the outline of his tip almost visible against your flesh.

“Gonna fill you up so good,” Changbin voices, reaching out to finally graze his fingers against your stomach. He marvels at the way the bulge grows against the pads of his fingers with every thrust, your lips parted to let out a series of pornographic moans at the contact.

And then he sprawls his hand out along your stomach, keeping it there, as he finally releases a thick spurt of his milky white release, coating your walls entirely as his cock begins to soften inside of you.

He observes the way the bulge lessens as he comes down from his orgasm, breathing staggered as he lies back against the pillow once more. And then he lets out a whimper when you finally slide off of him, sitting back onto his thighs once more and smiling down at him.

He lifts his head momentarily to meet your gaze, a downturned smile on his face as he catches his breath. And you shrug in his direction, grazing your fingers along his broad chest once more.

“Told you I wasn’t just teasing,” you say to Changbin. He attempts to answer, too breathless to produce anything coherent, instead replaced by a stifled chuckle and a shake of his head.

The room is pitch dark, nothing but the sound of movie dialogue filling the space, as your friends sift through bowls of popcorn and sprawl comfortably out on the couch. It’s a horror movie- perhaps your least favorite genre, only made beneficial by the fact that your friends are far too distracted to pay attention to either of you. Or to Minho, at least, who hasn’t stopped feeling you up for the better part of half the movie.

His hands graze further up your thighs beneath the blanket, and then he parts them with his hand, trailing his fingertips along the hem of your skirt. He doesn’t even properly face you, instead glancing at you out of his peripheral vision, as he loops a finger into the ripped hole of your stockings.

Realistically, you should’ve known better than to have worn Minho’s favorite stockings tonight- especially since he’d been trying to fuck you since far before any guests got here. And now on the couch beside you, Minho stealing glances every few seconds at your anticipatory expression, he can’t seem to keep his hands off of you.

His fingers graze the skin of your thigh as he keeps them looped through the ripped nylon holes. And then before you can tell him to stop again, he’s spreading them with his fingers, enlarging the holes until they’re merged into one giant rip, granting him better access to your dripping cunt.

You can’t ask Minho to stop now- not when you’re aching for him, too, trying your best to keep your eyes on the film to not raise any concern for your friends. But when the tights around your thighs are effectively torn open, and his hand is snaking up to your underwear, you can’t help but gasp in anticipation, patting your legs for him under the blanket as his smirk grows.

“I know, right?” You hear your friend say from her spot on the couch across from you. “This part’s really scary.”

She reaches for a bowl of popcorn again, not looking in your direction, as Minho’s fingers finally reach your crotch. The pads of his fingers attach to your clit, where he presses against it in one swift, teasing motion. And then he circles it slowly, his fingers sending delicious vibrations over your cotton underwear, as you squirm in your spot.

Minho remains like that for a moment, slouching comfortably back into his spot, as he raises an eyebrow at your reaction. He appears satisfied with the way you grasp at the arm of the sofa, attempting to close your legs around his hand, which he doesn’t permit. And then he uses the same hand to pull your underwear aside, weaving through to your flesh, resuming the motion of stimulating your clit that way. A breathless gasp leaves your lips when he finally makes contact, and his hands are cold, contrasting against the warmth of your dripping cunt.

Minho quickens his motions now, rubbing in circles on and around your clit, smirking in amusement when he watches you buck your hips desperately against his calloused hand. Your own hand comes up to sprawl over your mouth and rest on the arm of the couch, as though you’re in deep thought about the movie. But tears prick your eyes at the overwhelming sensation, pulling your skirt up higher with your vacant hand in order to spread wider for him.

It’s a miracle no one’s caught on yet, and if it weren’t for your own hand, you’re certain you’d be screaming his name now, as he palms over your sex. When you begin to ask him to fingerfuck you, it’s like he’s read your mind already, slipping a finger in with ease to swirl around your juices. Your eyes roll back at the feeling of being filled by his slender fingers, almost bouncing along the sheer length of them, as he begins to thrust them in and out of you, his knuckles grazing along your clit as he buries them as deep as he can. When he adds a second finger, you can hardly stifle your moans, squirming desperately in your seat, as he beckons for you to keep quiet.

“Shh…” Minho whispers, bringing a finger up to his lips. “Don’t let them hear you.”

“Ah- I can’t,” you breathe back, sighing in relief when the sounds on the television grow louder. On screen, the antagonist stalks his prey, and the screams that echo around the room seem to silence your own desperate gasps for air.

“Are you close?” Minho inquires in a whisper, still not turning to face you. You can’t utter a proper response, simply nodding, your eyes squeezed shut in pleasure when you feel him thumb over your clit.

He rubs it over a few times, tracing the outline of your flesh with the pad of his thumb, and then he partakes in both motions, thrusting his middle and ring finger in and out of your sopping cunt, as his thumb works your clit in back and forth motions.

The screaming on the television is almost deafening amidst the room now, as are your gasps for air, as Minho watches you in amusement. You look a mess for him, your thighs closing around his hand, one hand digging your fingernails into the leather arm of the couch, as the other remains clasped around your mouth to keep quiet. You’re pretty certain that you’re drooling by this point, eyes rolling in the back of your head, as you can make out the faint sounds of the movie unfolding on the screen.

Beads of sweat line your inner thighs under the blanket, and graze along your forehead as Minho works you. The gushing sound of his fingers ramming in and out of your pussy are a little too loud for comfort, and yet your friends don’t notice a thing, their eyes glued to the television still.

“Let go,” Minho leans in to command, his fingers trying to keep your legs parted as he finishes you off. “Don’t make a sound.”

It’s his words that finally coax an orgasm out of you, aroused by the way he so boldly fucks you with at least a dozen people sit around you, not even bothering to meet your gaze properly. Minho feels your walls contract around his fingers, and then the gentle gush of your release that follows, slowing his movements inside of you when he finally pulls out.

Your stockings are entirely soiled, yet he simply smooths down your skirt once more, pulling the blanket higher up and retracting his hand from between your legs.

“I knew it!” One of your friends says, turning around to meet your startled gaze. “Remember when you predicted he was the killer?”

Your eyes are still widened, face dripping with sweat, as you simply nod in response, failing to meet her gaze.

“Wow,” she remarks. “You look scared.”

You can feel your heartbeat quicken in your chest, but she says nothing when she turns around once more to resume watching the movie.

“Yeah,” Minho remarks, too, as he turns to face you. “Didn’t know you were such a scaredy cat.”

His lips pull into a devilish smile as he brings his hand up to his lips, inserting his two fingers to suck himself clean.

“Maybe we should pick a different genre next time,” he remarks casually, pivoting to watch the screen again, as his tongue swirls around the pads of his fingers to taste every last drop of you.