Aurora Imagines

Imagine if....

You're at your local bookstore cafe and he's at the table across from you?

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Imagine if.....

You're trying out the new 'Wild Gym' facilities with a friend, and this guy is here supervising.

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Imagine if...

You're taking a day to yourself, a walk on the beach, a good book, sitting in the sun.

When the wind blows a hat right onto your feet, and this guy comes running along the water's edge trying to catch it.

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Imagine if.....

The uber arrives to take you to the airport. You're frantic, worried about missing your flight, making sure you have your passport, did you lock the front door? You look up and meet the drivers eyes....

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Imagine if......

It's 90's night at the club, and you've just grabbed a pint of Diesel. Turning around to head back to your friends you come face to face with this guy leaving the dance floor...

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Imagine if.....

You're on a research trip to Mauna Kea and get the opportunity to see the latest presentation from one of the top astrophysicists in the world. He really loves talking about the stars!

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Imagine if....

You're late to work, and get caught in a fender bender, totally not your fault. But when you go to exchange insurance details, he just smirks at you!

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Imagine if....

It's your first day temping at the swanky new office building and the office manager is giving you a quick tour. Then she hands you over to this guy, to finish off your induction!

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Imagine if....

The guy ahead of you at the coffee shop, immersed in a serious business call, leaves his wallet on the counter.

You manage to catch him up to hand it back, then he turns around.

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Imagine if....

It's cold, wet and windy. You came out with only a thin coat and scarf this morning, and now as the hour gets late and the sun starts to drop, you feel yourself shivering all over. A gust of wind rips your flimsy scarf into the sky and out of sight.

Across the square he approaches you and with a smile and a casual '오라이' he unwinds his own warm scarf, wrapping it instead around your neck and draping it across your shoulders.

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Imagine if....

It was just supposed to be an end of term get together, some people from your course, roomates, and of course friends of friends.

Finishing up an anecdote about a particularly quirky professor you look up, locking eyes with this guy. Must be a friend of a classmate's roommate, cos you have never seen him before.

And now you're breathless and tongue-tied, so you reach for your drink, trying to hide the tremor in your hands.

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Imagine if....

You've become separated from your study group on a Uni trip, and now you realise you have no clue where you are, or how to get back to your hotel.

There's not many people around, so you head for the closest person and ask for help. As he turns around your heart skips a little beat....

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Imagine if....

It's getting late, you're finally home from a long day at work. Takeaway is en route and you have a bottle of wine open on the counter.

The snow starts swirling around outside, looks like there'll be a storm tonight, and you spare a thought for the delivery driver.

A short, sharp knock on the door and you open it to this guy, who is definitely not bringing your food!

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Imagine if....

You're waiting in the first class lounge at the airport, your first time travelling for work and they've spared no expense.

You get a very expensive drink from the bar, get settled in with your current favourite read, and then this guy, ignoring the entirety of the near empty lounge, flops down into the seat across from you!

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Imagine if....

You meet your clandestine fling in the motel, but this time he brought his camera and he wants you to pose for him.....

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Imagine if....

You get home from work to find your neighbour being manhandled out of your building, as the police read him his rights.

As you pass, he gives you a brief wink and a smirk, before being bundled into the back of the detective's car.

You watch them drive away, knowing they're not going to be able to pin the drugs arrest on him, cos he planted it all in your apartment.....

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Imagine if....

This is the look he gives you when he finally gets released from the station, battered and bruised, and you tell him you flushed his stash.....

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Imagine if....

He's finally forgiven you for teasing him about trashing his stash. You'd spent the evening making it up to him, your lips spilling more than words as you promise not to toy with him again.

Three hours and a shared shower later and he's outlining the plan of action going forward. You're barely listening, your eyes focussed on his lips as he talks.

The way he bites them when he's thinking, his pout when he realises you've zoned out, his little smirk when he pulls you closer...

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Imagine if....

He plans the perfect Easter picnic, the weather is glorious, the food delicious, the wine cool and refreshing.

And for some reason the park is almost deserted.

After lunch, he lays back looking at the clouds, and you rest your head on his stomach. As the sun warms his skin, he closes his eyes, basking in the feel of your body so close to his. Stroking your hair he makes sleepy little murmurs.

And then turning your head you start to unzip him, licking your lips in anticipation.

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Imagine if....

You don't have long, just a quick snack mid practice. He's been fidgety since you arrived, clearly something on his mind. As you finish up to let him get back to work, he leans in close, his whispers warm against your ear.

Listening carefully, a flush creeps up your skin as he confides in intimate detail what he wants to try.

Suddenly shy, he pulls away, looking more nervous than you'd ever seen him. You'd never considered it, you didn't think he was into that at all, but???

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Imagine if....

It starts with just a touch, you're still in that soft haze between Mab's realm and the waking world, but the warmth against your skin pulls your essence back to reality.

A soft kiss, before he traces the tip of his nose up your spine, between your shoulder blades, making you shiver with anticipation.

When he pulls away, you roll over, turning to face his gentle eyes and sweet smile. A quick glance down and a bite of your lip is all the invitation he needs to start again.

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Imagine if....

You've finally completed your advocate training and it's your first day flying solo (as it were). Heading to the conference room to meet your first liaison, you re-read the brief, it's going to be a difficult assignment. You just hope the Guardian can handle it.

Knocking sharply, you enter the room and he looks hopefully up at you. It's his first day too, you can see it in his soul.

Your heart sinks....

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Imagine if....

You've come to clear his table.

"Are you finished with that, sir?" you wait patiently, "excuse me, may I take your plate?"

You don't want to interrupt his reverie, but you have so much to do before closing.

"Sir?" you reach for his dish and his slender fingers close over yours.

"Say again?" He looks up at you, his soft smile sending you into orbit.

You hesitate and whisper, "Sir...."

He folds in on himself, laughing at your response. But his warm hand still covers yours....

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Imagine if....

You've all gone out on a hen night, something very, very different.

You go to grab drinks, while your friends claim seats close to the show. The lights flicker and then...

He makes his way through the curtains to the front of the stage, and in the heartbeat before his music kicks in, he spots you at the bar.

Grabbing the pole he gets into position and....

This was it!

The nerves are fading with every step being ushered along the corridor by a harassed staff member, but Wooyoung is waiting for you beyond that door and you can’t back out now.

When you found out you’d won the fanmeet event you were over the moon, even though you didn’t remember entering. It was comeback time, you’d signed up for numerous GO’s, and were so deep in your overdraft it wasn’t even a joke in the group chat anymore. So it was absolutely believable that in the middle of the night you’d signed up for something attached to a raffle, and just lost track of it in all the chaos.

With a sharp cough the staff member brought you crashing back to reality, pointing to a chair and hurriedly dashing off a list of instructions, do’s and don’ts. Far too fast for you to process and, like a sheep, you just nodded dumbly along. And with a quick shake of their head they retreated back down the corridor leaving you alone with your thoughts.

Dangerous.

<you’ve been here before, waiting outside the door, a combination of excitement and anxiety churning you up inside>

Deja Vu. Your favourite song, it’d be funny if it wasn’t so disconcerting. The door creaks open and you jump to your feet, smoothing down imaginary creases in your skirt, looking up to see your bias watching you with a smile. Your heart does that thing and your breath catches in your throat. He’s even more stunning in real life, how do people work with him everyday and continue to function?

Holding out his hand to you he gives you that smile, yeah you know the one.

<always the same smile, even on his photocards, does he practice in front of a mirror to get it just right>

You take his outstretched hand. This is unexpected, you were sure there’d be no physical contact. His skin is warm, softer than you expected, and no rings. Of course, you berate yourself internally, he’s cooking a meal for the two of you, so hygiene yadda yadda.

<where did that come from? you’d had no information other than a generic fanmeet email>

Pulling you through the doorway he chatters to you non-stop, talking a mile a minute. Exactly what he’s known for, but always in Korean? This is English, but you have to focus to understand what he’s saying, catching the odd word and phrase, and as your brain struggles to put it together, your eyes scan the room. Not a studio, but a real open plan space, seating, dining, and a kitchen on the other side of the counter.

Leading you to a bar stool he makes sure you're comfortable, and you nod again, not trusting yourself to speak without sounding like an idiot. You look around you and realise you’re completely alone with him. There are no other winners here, no members, no managers, no staff. You’re shocked to find him beside you again, drink in hand. He’d been talking to you, and you’d completely missed it.

Embarrassed now, you take a sip, you don’t want to come across as rude. The liquid burns as it slides down your throat and you curse yourself for not checking what you thought was water. The hesitant smile you give him doesn’t even begin to cover your grimace, but his trademark carefree laugh does the job.

“You don’t drink?” he smirks, tucking your hair behind your ear. You can feel the heat in your cheeks at his touch, you just hope your makeup can hold up to the challenge.

“Not much, mostly white wine spritzers.” cringing inwardly at your admission, you try to reclaim some semblance of cultural nuance. “Soju?”

He nods, as he moves back around the counter “Chamisul, you didn’t like it?”

You think about it, trying to remember the flavour before the burn. “I’m guessing it’s an acquired taste.”

His nodding becomes comical as he starts to check the equipment. Chopping board, grater, knives. “Ya, ya, ya. But I’ll find you something else.”

He heads for the fridge and pulls out a bottle of chilled white and an armful of vegetables. Dropping the veg on the board he presents the bottle to you with a flourish. Pinot Grigio, one of your favourite labels. Surprising.

<a flash of a sheet of paper, lists of questions, check boxes, your handwriting filling the spaces>

You shake your head, trying to dislodge the images, and he frowns.

“You don’t like it?” he seems genuinely surprised and you smile immediately to placate him.

“Oh no, it’s my favourite. Thank you.” you dip your head submissively and immediately wonder why. You take a deep draught to reassure him, it’s cool and refreshing after the heat of the Korean alcohol, and find yourself starting to relax.

He’s working on the vegetables, talking through what he’s doing and you’re surprised to see bowls already full of chopped carrots and sliced scallions. Did you zone out? For how long? You sip the pinot and try to catch up with his running commentary. His knife skills are impressive, within seconds an onion is peeled and diced to perfection and he turns away to wash his hands and put the knife in the dishwasher.

<the bowls were blue, full of sliced mushrooms and beansprouts>

Pulling your eyes away from his back, you look at the bowls of prepped vegetables.

White.

With a black spiral pattern around the middle.

You look up to find him watching you intently, “Are you okay?”

You’re not sure, but you don’t want to say anything that will stop this. How many Atiny ever get an opportunity like this? It’s a once in a lifetime event, even though you’re sure some have paid big bucks to increase their chances. Not that you could ever afford to do that, you must have gotten all kinds of lucky. If only you could remember.

Before you can chase the thoughts down you find his fingers pressed to your lips as he slides a sliver of carrot into your mouth. You chew, swallow robotically, his fingers remain close, his thumb swiping across your lower lip as though you’d missed a piece. Your mouth is completely dry and you reach for the glass to moisten your lips.

He pulls away, almost as if he’s suddenly shy, but that can’t be true. Your bias is known to be an incredible flirt with a natural talent for fan service. There’s no way he’d be hesitant around any Atiny, and it would be utterly ridiculous to think that he was actually into you. He’s spent a grand total of, wait how long have you been here? There’s no clock on the wall, you pat your pockets. No phone. Must be part of the event, of course it makes sense. You’ve heard fans get signed polaroids at events like this.

Like this? You’ve never heard of anything even remotely like this before.

<one arm around your shoulder squeezing you reassuringly, his other outstretched to take the photo as you pose. you’re not smiling, tears leaving a trail on your cheeks>

He looks over his shoulder at you as he retrieves a package from the refrigerator, the shyness gone, replaced with his trademark playful smirk. He places the wrapped meat on the counter and goes to select another knife. Thinner. Serrated.

Grabbing a frying pan from the wall rack, showing off more of his skills, he spins the handle on the flattened palm of his hand. You’re hypnotised by the flash of red in the centre of the cooking side and find yourself taking long, deep swallows of your wine as he comes closer. Placing the pan on a hob he flicks the switch causing flames to leap suddenly, you pull back before the fire can catch your hair. With a hissed curse he rounds the counter to check on you, taking your face in both hands as he studies you carefully. His hands are gentle on your skin as he brushes your jaw, making you flush uncontrollably.

<he’s wearing glasses, where did they come from? and his hair was shorter, a deep red?>

“I’m okay, I’m fine.” you scan him, his hair the dark brown you thought it was, no glasses obscuring his face. This whole thing is feeling increasingly surreal and dreamlike. Reaching for your drink, your eyes locked with his, you almost made it. But your fingers just brush against the stem, tipping it forward, the liquid splashing over the meat and the glass shattering on the countertop.

He pulls back and grabs for a teatowel as the wine seeps into the wrapping paper, making it translucent. “Good job we were going to simmer it in wine anyway,” he giggles, scooping broken shards into a bowl for disposal.

You don’t return the laugh, your eyes glued to the image on the meat, now clear through the wet paper. You know that image better than you know Woo’s rose tattoo. Lifting your hand to your face, you compare the image on your left forearm to that on the meat in front of you.

Identical.

“Shibal!” Wooyoung’s voice is suddenly harsh, angry.

He grabs your hand before you can pull away, his slender fingers gripping you like a vice. His smile is gone, his easy, playful manner exchanged for a dark and dangerous vibe. Struggling against him you shriek for help, grabbing for anything you can. He’s disposed of all the glass, the knives just out of reach, your fingers close on the handle of the pan and you swing with all your might. The metal connects with his head with a dull clang, and he releases you.

Scrabbling off the stool, you head for the door, desperate to put distance between you, what the fuck is going on?

<a knife slides under your ribcage, your skin bubbling under a brulee blowtorch, a cleaver chops your hand at the wrist, cheese wire slicing into the soft flesh around your throat, Wooyoung approaching with a grater…>

The images flash through your head, over and over again, the blood, the pain, the fear. You’re frozen in shock.

“Wait!” Wooyoung is standing on the other side of the counter, rubbing the large bump on his forehead. “It’s not what you think…”

You choke on your reply, thinking is so far from reality right now, this is pure adrenaline reaction. His eyes flicker to the side of you and your heart sinks, strong arms wrapping around you, holding you tight, despite your desperate attempts.

Wooyoung wanders over, boning knife in hand. “Good job San. We almost made it this time, stupid mistake, we’ll have to check the meat next time. Add it to the list.”

You can feel San nod his head behind you, “So now what?”

Beside you, you sense another presence, “We sedate her, then carry on. It won’t be quite as tasty. But still, better than previous team meals.” Yeosang’s soft lisp chills you in a way that has nothing to do with his vocals.

Tears streak down your face as he stands in front of you tapping the air bubbles out of the syringe. “Hold her steady, no need for her to suffer more than necessary, it’ll come through in the flavour.” He shakes his head sadly. “We were really looking forward to this.”

Wooyoung stands behind him, draping an arm casually over Yeosang’s shoulder as the needle slides into your skin. “Let the farm know to start getting another one ready for next time. We need to modify the cloning system, I swear she was remembering”

As your eyes flutter shut for the final time you hear San’s words, “We need Atiny to feed us, so we can feed them. Such greedy fans”

You poured his wine, a 2000 Pétrus, and with a polite cough you asked if he was aware what he’d just said. For a moment, the wicked smile he gave you had you convinced he was well aware of what he’d said. But a raised eyebrow from you was all it took to make him giggle bashfully.

Patiently you explained the translation, and now it was his turn to blush, his skin glowing in the soft candlelight. You left him to finish his meal, and ponder the perils of propositioning a French sommelier.

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2am came and went, and so did your 3rd orgasm of the night.

With his face buried between your thighs, his thumb stroking your clit as you come down from the highest high of your life, you can still see the dark sparkle in his eyes as he looks up at your face, flushed and damp with sweat.

Crawling up your naked body, pinning you beneath his own lean flesh, he arched his back, catlike, giving you a glimpse of his exquisitely sculpted body. His tongue flicked playfully into your mouth, giving you a taste of yourself, as his cock eased deliciously into your cunt.

Surprisingly the writer responded, with a challenge. And even more surprisingly they contemplated it.

I mean, how hard could it be? Between them, they’d read a fair few fics by now, most of them entertaining. Some of them were even halfway decent. They could pull this off for sure! Who knew better what they liked than they did? So they accepted the challenge and set to work creating the greatest masterpiece in the history of fanfics.

Laptop charged, knuckles cracked and then…

Nothing.

Minds went blank. Eyes flicked to the blank screen and away. It was Jongho’s idea to open the Soju, and Mingi suggested watching their fancams to get the creative juices flowing, Hongjoong sat back watching the chaos unfold. It was only a matter of time before someone commented on Mingi’s lip bite and into the fic it went. Wooyoung’s laugh was next, and another bottle of Soju made the rounds. Yeosang ordered food, it was getting late after all. After that chickens had to go in. And if chickens were going in they were back to MIngi again.

Feeling a little targeted now Mingi started to sulk, until Wooyoung decided to add a rabid squirrel to the mix, which cheered Mingi up no end. Seonghwa put a stop to that though, he thought that adding all the Aniteez could get a little risque. San pointed out how many omegaverse fics there were out there, and that Atiny definitely had no problem mixing it up with erm, animal companions?

As one, they all turned to San, mouths agape.

He got flustered and excused himself then. No-one could recall reading any hybrid fics together, clearly San had been doing his own personal research.

Yunho wanted more focus on fingers, Atiny go insane for them he insisted, Wooyoung backed him up, and so in the fingers went. Seonghwa insisted that tongue was a necessity, and again Wooyoung backed him up, which made Jongho roll his eyes and type something incredibly unsavoury at Wooyoung’s expense.

Wooyoung tried to delete it, and it devolved into a wrestling match. Arms swinging, legs flailing, punches almost landing. Yunho and Mingi grabbed Wooyoung and pulled him away, while Yeosang subdued Jongho, whispering who knew what into the maknae’s ears.

And through it all, in his corner Hongjoong continued to watch. Finger to his lips, thoughts running through his head a mile a minute. He stretched his legs out in front of him, crossed at the ankles, and contemplated his squabbling crew.

He coughed. Just once, low and soft. But it stopped every one of them in their tracks. Even San popped his head back round the door and waited expectantly, almost as if he’d been hovering outside waiting for an opportunity to rejoin the fun. 

And then Captain explained the plan. They had until midnight tomorrow to write a scene. Whatever they wanted, however they wanted to. And he would put it all together in the way only he could.

Like some sort of Frankenstein’s fiction? suggested one. I like it, smirked another.

And then it was all over, with some murmurs of dissent, and one or two whispered exchanges, he sent them all off to their respective rooms to ponder the plan and their role in it.

By 3am someone had slipped a folded sheet of paper under the studio door. Hongjoong rolled his chair across to pick it up. Random scribblings, with some incredibly graphic detail, scrawled hastily across both sides, but the outline was solid, bold. Interesting. Curiously, he had no clue who had written it, although he could take a guess based on the content if not the handwriting. But this was shaping up to be a fun project all round.

He didn’t even realise he had fallen asleep at his desk again until a short sharp knock woke him just after 6, and a shadow passed across the frosted glass. Dragging himself back into the land of the living, Hongjoong opened the door and scoured the corridor outside. Nothing. Empty. Except an envelope fastened to the front of the door.

With a final glance down both avenues, he returned to the studio and closed the door carefully, quietly. No sense disturbing anyone. Then he sat down to read, which was probably a very sensible thing, considering he almost fell off his seat 3 times whilst reading the typed pages. Someone had taken a great deal of care to paint a picture with words, and it was definitely gallery worthy.

Placing both contributions in a folder, he slid it into his desk drawer and locked it. Time to grab twenty minutes before breakfast and then a full day's schedule.

Waiting for him in the car was a driver, and a sealed envelope, a glossy lip print across the back. He didn’t even have time to ask the driver who had dropped it off, before he was joined by the rest of the crew.  Shoving it roughly into his pocket, he resolved to check it when he had a moment alone.

The day passed in a blur of interviews, travelling from one studio to another, trying to coral the crew into the most charming personas despite the previous night’s squabbling. Seating arrangements had to be changed multiple times for the on cam events, and much glaring ensued. He had to have words with all of them at various points, even threatening to ditch the whole plan if they couldn’t play nice together for one day.

Then, during a frosty group lunch, someone let rip with the loudest noise to leave an ass they had all ever heard, and that seemed to break the tension, the group devolving into good natured teasing and banter once more. And when the bill came, he found a screwed up receipt with just a handful of sentences scribbled on it. Catching only a glimpse before thrusting it into his wallet, he didn’t miss the look the server gave the group, aw shibal!

The afternoon’s interviews were much more light hearted, and he was thrilled to see even his two youngest putting on a good show for the hosts.

By the time they got back to the dorms it was dark, and everyone was wiped out. Knowing they were due an early start tomorrow, he was glad to find not one but two separate submissions waiting for him. 

He was still waiting for one last contribution, and the deadline was getting closer. Not that he was panicking, but could he really put this together whilst leaving out one vital voice? Absolutely not. Elbows on his desk, ruffling his hands through his hair, he tried not to panic.

8 makes 1 team after all.

And if they weren't *all* involved, then he knew it wouldn't happen. The very idea was unthinkable. He spent the last few moments watching the second hand tick closer and closer to the hour. The pen he was chewing on leaking ink across his  lower lip, completely unnoticed.

5...4...3.....2....

Ping!

A notification on his kakaotalk. An attachment. The final piece of the puzzle. His eyes widened as he read, his jaw agape, then dropping completely as he became so engrossed in the intimate, erotic and frankly incredible details contained within the message.

With seven submissions of varying length and detail, it was now his job, as always, to tie it all together.

But first, coffee.

Hongjoong worked through the night, as was his wont. Music on, flicking between tracks, blending, integrating, weaving a spell with the words like some sort of bardic wizard. And as the sun finally sent streaks across the room, making it impossible to see the screen clearly, he had to admit defeat. At least for tonight. Crawling to the sofa he rolled so his face was buried in the cushions, and that’s where manager nim found him 2 hours later, when it was time to leave for costume fittings.

Throughout the day each member came to check on him, there was a nervous energy about them all. He put it down to them worrying about yet another late night. But by the end of the day, when Seonghwa finally approached him, he realised.

“You want to know about the story.” pressing his fingers into his eyes, trying to relieve the pressure build up, he shook his head slowly.

Seonghwa hung his head, guilty, “Joongie, did we? Is it happening?”

It dawned on him then that not one of them had spoken to the others. None of them had admitted to writing something. None of them had compared notes. He was the only one who knew, he had the power to make it work, or he could make it go away. Sure, eventually Wooyoung would bring it up with San or Yunho, and everything would unravel. But he’d seen how they couldn’t meet each other's eyes, they could barely raise their heads in his direction. It could take a while before they realised what he’d done, and by then they were bound to have moved on to something else.

So the options were clear. Be honest with Seonghwa and finish what he’d started, or let one of the members take the blame and pretend none of this ever happened. That’s when he made his fatal error, looking up at his hyung, seeing his boba eyes looking so hopeful.

And he realised, each of them had poured their hearts and souls into what they’d written. And he had been allowed access. They’d all trusted him with something so vulnerable and intimate. How could he betray their trust?

Before he could take it back he reached out to pat Seonghwa awkwardly on the forearm, pulled away, then tapped his shoulder twice.

“It’s done.” a pause “Or it will be. Soon.”

Committed now, he gave Seonghwa a half smile which was quickly returned with a smile so incandescent it almost burnt his retinas. His Star was shining bright indeed. This is going to be good for them, for all of them, he can feel it.

It took another two days of non-stop editing. His studio door was locked, the lights turned low, meals left at his door were mostly ignored. Until finally, eventually, it was complete. Before he could regret it, he messaged the attachment to each one of them. And then, crawling to his careworn sofa in the corner, he slept. It was a deep and dreamless slumber, his face softening as the hours passed him by and the stresses left his body.

He woke more refreshed than he’d felt in weeks, until he saw his phone. Over 300 messages, across various apps. From all but one member. Seonghwa had yet to respond. His heart sank. Skittering down the corridor like a rabid squirrel, he came to a stop outside Seonghwa’s dorm, sneakers squeaking on the laminate floor.

Taking a moment to catch his breath, torn between needing to know and terrified to find out, he backed away, turned to leave then faced the door again. A move to knock, stopped at the last second without connecting.

The door swung open and there stood his hyung, alight in the dark, his computer monitor outlining his slender frame.

“It’s perfect, they’ll go crazy for it.” He smiled gently at Hongjoong, ever the encourager.

Looking up from beneath his lashes he returned the smile shyly, hesitantly. “So you think I should send it?”

“Already done.” Seonghwa whispers as he pulls his Captain into the darkened room and kicks the door shut behind them.

"Drink up, you've had a long day," of course you're being encouraged to catch up, there's already three empty bottles of Soju draining by the sink, along with a distinct air of tension.

"What's going on with you two?" Letting Woo strip your jacket and hang it up, you take a drink and start to relax.

With the air of a mischievous teen, San approaches you. He's already doing his cute kitty pout face, so you know this is gonna be interesting.

"You've been working so hard lately, and we never get to see you anymore," you can hear his pout as he moves behind you, massaging your shoulders, his stronger fingers making short work of the knots in your upper back.

Taking another drink, when was your glass refilled? you can't hold back the low moan that slips from your lips.

He really does have a knack, his fingers probing and stimulating all at once.

And then Wooyoung comes back into your vision, his lips pressed firmly together, trying desperately not to smile.

"What you got behind your back Woo?"

You try to shift your head to look behind him, but San’s strong hands have moved up to your neck, gently, but undeniably keeping your head still.

You know there's no point fighting it, or forcing it, you've been here before with them, too many times to count. 

And you always ended up smiling, so what the fuck.

Leaning back against San, letting him know you're ready, you keep your eyes on Woo. And of course he treats it like some kind of performance.

One step closer, two steps back, a twirl and always, always, keeping whatever it is hidden from your view. Until he's right in front of you, smiling down with that little lip bite, oh so coy.

"Menace"

Not a name, or an insult, just a statement of fact.

And that's when he takes a half step away, throwing his head back, and tracing a length of fabric across his eyes. Your stomach flips in the most delightful and desperate way.

Leaning forward, San whispers deep and low, his voice resonating through every fibre of your being.

"Trust us?"

You nod slowly, swallowing your nerves, and your reservations.

Wooyoung leans in close, whispering in your other ear, like some kind of sensual surround sound.

"Good girl!", and he presses the fabric against your eyes, San collecting each end and tying it tightly behind your head, careful not to tangle your hair.

"Tonight we'll be playing guess who!" San announced, as Woo ensured you were truly blindfolded, if you could see the faces he was pulling, you'd be snort laughing in the most unattractive fashion.

Fingers gently gripping your body, rotating you gently, as whispers cascade around you.

"We're gonna take turns teasing you, and you have to guess who it is."

"If you guess correctly, you earn a treat...."

"If not?" The question is left hanging, but sight withheld you have no idea who is saying what, or who is standing where.

It's completely disorienting, and for the first time you feel nervous, your heart rate increases with more than just desire.

But they’re so damn gentle, their fingers caressing you as they put you at ease, seating you on a plush chair, you can't remember ever seeing in their apartment before.

Movement on your left, "Are you sitting comfortably?"

A kiss on your right, "Here we go!"

You have no clue who is who, or where, and then you grip the arms of the chair tight as they turn it slowly. Once, twice, was that three times? You can't tell how far you've turned, how many times. Leaning back you curl your feet under you, resolving to enjoy the experience even if you are completely clueless.

And with a whisper of a breath you feel lips pressing against yours, soft but firm, gone before you’ve even registered it happened. It takes a heartbeat or two for your brain to catch up with your body.

“No fair, I wasn’t ready!” you can hear the two of them giggling together and you roll your eyes behind the fabric.

“Okay, we’ll give you that as a practice round.” San concedes, while you assume it’s Woo approaches, whispering “you ready for this…” then he pulls away, leaving you with just a trace of his fragrance to confirm he was ever there.

Without your eyes, you’re going to need to play this smart. What do you know? Well Wooyoung’s wearing his signature scent tonight, so that’s going to help, a lot. And San? He’s been complaining about his upcoming laser appointment, so you plan to be using your fingers as much as you can.

Hearing the swish of fabric in front of you, you reach out your fingers to connect with what you hope is a face, and they are almost instantly enfolded/encompassed by someone’s soft, warm and slightly moist lips. You pull your hand away, surprised, a little flustered.

They’re quick, too quick, and your instant reaction means you didn’t have time to process.

“Well?” Now you’re not even sure who’s speaking, their voices low and breathy. You can imagine Wooyoung, arms folded across himself with that smug grin, relaxing into San’s firm chest.

“You need to say something. Don’t tell us you give in already!” Definitely Wooyoung stirring it, alright then.

Clearing your throat, pressing your fingers to your lips, you think about it. You would expect San to go for the lips, the neck, maybe even the tip of the nose. And perhaps he would have if you hadn’t been trying to get a hint. Where would Wooyoung go first? Despite all your past encounters, they had you absolutely stumped.

So think. Whoever it was it was a direct attack, right in front of you, probably heading for your face. Simple, to the point, which of them would go straight for the mouth?

“Tick tock, Aegiya!”

“San!” you blurt out, 50/50 and besides you only forfeit a treat if you’re wrong. How much of a treat could it be?

“Dammit, San,” you hear a light smack against fabric “too obvious, you’ve got to be strategic!”

Score! Now if your brain could just remember the feel of his lips? Warm, yes. Soft, check. Succulent, mmmmhmmm.

And you’re interrupted by a hand curling your hair over your ear, making you flinch as lips caress the curve of your jaw. You manage a slow inhale and there it is, even if you didn’t already suspect Wooyoung, his scent gives him away, lingering longer than his lips. You find yourself wishing he’d never pull away.

You’re not going to give them any clue you’ve figured out a system though, you plan to play it out for as long as you can. Cocking your head to one side, you make what you hope is a puzzled face,

“Hmmmmmm, first time was San, so I think I’ll say,” you pause for dramatic effect, hoping to pick up a tell in the background would be nice too. “Woo?”

Making sure to sound as uncertain as possible, even going so far as to bite your lip nervously as you await a response. It doesn’t take long.

“Ha, you got caught out too!” San’s little victorious statement makes you smile, and even with the blindfold and your eyes closed, you can see his smug little smile, you can even imagine the way he weaves his head to and fro, scrunching his nose in that way he does when he’s being too cute.

“I’m two for two here guys, what do I get for winning? What’s the treat?”

An exclamation followed by a snort of a laugh

“You're already being totally spoiled getting our undivided attention like this. What more could you want?” Wooyoung was definitely determined to give nothing away without a fight. Typical.

“You promised me a treat.” two could play at the petulant pout game, and you were just as determined to give both men a run for their money, blindfold or no. Knowing San would cave in a heartbeat the moment your lower lip reached just the right amount of quiver, you gave a little tremor.

And just as anticipated, “Don’t be sad baby, we have some chocolates for you.”

You knew you could count on his sweet nature, and with a little wiggle you get yourself ready. Thinking about it, what more could you want? 

“Open wide” less of a command, more a gentle suggestion, but you indulge him, tipping your head to one side, you part your lips, your tongue curling out ready.

You're not disappointed when a tongue slides into your open mouth dispensing a very small, very dark, incredibly delicious chocolate. With a trace of your lips the tongue withdraws again and you find yourself melting faster than the chocolate on your tongue, leaving you cursing yourself for focussing on the velvety smooth cocoa instead of the scent of the man who was just inside you. 

“Well?” Woo again, but did his voice catch in his throat?

You’re more conflicted than ever, because you KNOW the chocolates were San’s idea! But what if it’s a double bluff? What if it was Wooyoung’s tongue? The thing is, it could have been either of them for completely different reasons. San would have found it unbearably romantic to seduce you using the sweet treat. On the other hand, Wooyoung would relish the opportunity to tease you and leave you confounded. So who would win out? You know who.

“Wooyoung” you declare confidently, and you’re rewarded with a raucous cackle. “What?”

“Wasn’t me!” Wooyoung declares, the giggle spilling out again, “No treat for you this time, here you go San.” the sharp crack of the chocolate makes your mouth water, and you imagine San tasting as good as the chocolate you’d shared. Because of course he does.

And now you have 2 distinct scents you’re ready for. You know you’re going to win this game.

You can’t lie though, the next assault takes you by surprise. A gentle press of lips to your crown. If it wasn’t for catching his scent as he bent over you, you’d have guessed San for sure, but you’re not falling for it.

“I bet San’s still eating those chocolates, right? So let’s say that was Wooyoung.” there’s a distinctive rustle close by, San balling up the chocolate wrappers and hiding it behind his back, you’d bet anything. It’s what you can’t hear that makes you smile though. No Wooyoung crowing about beating you, so you’re 100% right and now he’s sulking.

“Did I win? Chocolate, please.” you curl your legs up under you, lips parted, waiting for San to dispense another drop of delight.

“Ah.” San’s disappointed in himself, it’s obvious from the drop of his voice. 

“Ah?” you sound genuinely devastated, “Ah, San?” you’re almost convinced by your own fake indignation, “They’re all gone? Every last one?” and you have to remind yourself to dial it down a notch, you know how hard he takes these things.

Wooyoung breaks in, in his typical inimitable style, “Pshhhh like you’re going to keep guessing right anyway.”

You just sit back, smiling serenely, “We’ll see. Bring it on.”

Three times in a row it’s Wooyoung, and each time you smell him coming, trying so hard not to sigh and give yourself away. He’s not even subtle, his lips finding your flesh each time, lips pressed gently to your forehead (clearly trying to mimic San), his teeth grazing your ear, tongue lapping at your nose. And each time you play it cool, taking just enough time to think, but ultimately you know you’re ahead of his silly game.

“Still think it’s beginner’s luck?” your tongue in cheek response rivals Wooyoung’s own arrogant self assuredness. “What possible treat could you have for me, unless you were to concede defeat?”

“Never! You’re not gonna beat me.” there we go, you knew this whole idea was Wooyoung’s, and San is only in it for the chocolates and kisses. 

"I mean, I could think of a thing or two...." San excitedly offering suggestions brings a smile to your mouth, and quickly you run your fingers across your lips to disguise it.

You're beyond glad to be blindfolded so they can't see the mischief in your eyes when you whisper, "Strip"

The laugh in Wooyoung’s exclamation is immediate, you knew he’d get a kick out of it. You can hear them discussing what to take off, and the rustle of fabric being removed. But you have no clue who has lost what. Would San take off his shirt first? Would Wooyoung go straight for the pants? You try to recall what they were wearing.

Their low murmuring continues, but under that you swear you can make out another sound, subtle but familiar, soft, wet, almost like lips meeting flesh? Your mind goes into overdrive imagining them undressing each other while you’re right here. Taking in the sight and scent of bare skin, enjoying the taste of each other's mouths, as you sit here waiting patiently, completely unaware.

The metallic clink of a belt buckle and a dark chuckle draw your attention back to the here and now, and you realise how fast, how shallow your breathing is as you try to stay quiet. You can feel yourself getting light-headed and you lean your head back into the chair to compensate, forcing yourself to slow each breath, chest heaving with each long inhale.

Focussing on your breathing, you miss the tell-tale movement of the chair as someone leans in close, teeth closing on your lower lip, tugging gently. But it’s not Wooyoung, you can distinctly smell the 80% cocoa on his sweet breath. And then he’s gone.

“San?” the name slips out before you can stop yourself.

Licking your lips, attempting to cover your slip, you mumble something about his generosity in sharing the last of the chocolate. You can only hope that the lights are low, because you know you’re flushed, with more than just arousal. And you can almost make out their hushed whispers. Discussing tactics now? Or working out what comes off next?

Sucking your lip you try to calm your heart rate, you were not expecting that from San, but you want more. Who knew bad boy San was the treat you’d been craving. Just thinking about it makes you want his teeth on you again, the very idea making you unbelievably hot. You shift in your seat, trying not to draw attention to yourself, although you’re sure they must be able to tell how wet you’re getting.

You can sense a shadow right in front of you, and it’s only a heartbeat later, that teeth close on your earlobe, pulling a little harder this time. Oh, you’ve felt that from Wooyoung before, but a deep inhale as your nose slides along his jawline takes your breath away. You realise that, lacking the signature scent, you were wrong.

Yet again it’s San.

And you whisper his name as you exhale against the sensitive skin of his throat, making him laugh softly.

“Ah….” the intensity in that one word sends a shiver down your back and you stiffen, waiting for Wooyoung to continue. He doesn’t keep you waiting for long, “San-ah, come here.”

And for the first time tonight, you feel alone. Raised voices and exaggerated sniffing noises and you realise you’ve been caught out. Oh this is going to be bad, not only is Wooyoung ultra competitive, he has a very strong sense of justice, you KNOW he’s going to consider this cheating of the highest order.

All you can do is await the verdict, play the submissive good girl and take your punishment.

Putting on your best pout, regretting having so much of your face covered, because how are you supposed to appeal to their better nature when they can’t see your glossy, wide eyes, looking so very repentant.

“You knew it was me?” San is kneeling right in front of you, making you jump just a little, and you make sure to bite your lip as pretty as you possibly can.

“I did.” you drop your shoulders, lowering your head in supplication. If you can win San over, Wooyoung will have no option but to let it slide. At least that’s what you’re betting on.

“How?” He sounds so hurt, you instinctively reach for him, stroking your hand against his cheek. Only for him to grip your wrist firmly but gently, pushing you away. Your heart breaks just a little at the rejection, but you know you deserve it. Just a little. You drop your head in a last ditch attempt to melt his heart.

“It’s Woo’s scent. I could smell it.” The admission hangs heavy in the air. San’s deep exhale doing nothing to assuage your guilt, and you can imagine him running his hands through his hair in disappointment. The idea of his pout no longer makes you smile, instead bringing a frown to your own face. “I’m sorry, San….”

The sentence trails off as you realise there’s no way you make it up to him. Not on your own anyway. You angle your head to where you estimate Wooyoung to be, and look at him pleadingly. He can’t see your eyes, but surely he can pick up on your contrition. Bracing yourself, you don’t expect him to make it easy for you, you whisper his name.

“Wooyoung? Please.” fingers reaching out to him, and he laces his fingers through yours as he draws you to your feet, pulling you close. This is it, game over and evening ruined. Well done, mentally patting yourself on the back for wrecking something they’d worked hard to plan. Wooyoung has other ideas as he leans in close to your ear, lips brushing before he whispers the word that will completely change the direction of the evening.

“Forfeit.”

For a moment you’re confused, does he expect you to forfeit the game? Then what, head home and wait for them to forgive you?

“You have to forfeit the same amount of clothing as us,” You can definitely hear the smirk in his voice as he makes his judgement. Trying to calculate mentally how many times you ‘guessed’ correctly, he interrupts you. “which is doubled, as there’s two of us.”

Fuck!

How much is that? How much are you actually wearing? Thinking back to this morning, getting ready for work, do accessories count? You can’t even claim that it’s not fair, cos he caught you out. And if this is what it takes to make things right with San, then of course you’ll play along.

“Tick tock, we’re waiting” It’s not lost on you that he’s dropped the terms of endearment, and you shiver with a frisson of anticipation. You’ve never been the bad girl, things with both men have always been fun, playful, teasing at most. And just like the epiphany about bad boy San, you find yourself wanting more of this.

“Need a little help?” San moves in close behind you, his hands once again on your shoulders, moving down to the buttons of your blouse. You nod, hesitant, but grateful he appears to be softening a little. Maybe even a little closer to forgiveness?

Until you feel him curl his palms into fists, grabbing the fabric on each side, and pulling with maximum force. Buttons pop free, flying fuck knows where. You know your expensive shirt hasn’t survived the assault, but standing there, his breath ghosting your shoulders, you find it hard to care. Heart pounding so hard in your chest, they have to see it.

Sliding his fists down your arms, dragging your sleeves free, exposing your barely covered breasts he groans into you, pressing his lips to your naked flesh.

“One” trust Woo to be keeping score.

Sans hands glide to your waist, fingers undoing your belt, pulling it free.

“Two.” You counter quickly. Just because you got caught cheating, doesn’t mean you're prepared to give him a freebie.

San's strong hands continue their onslaught, unbuttoning your trousers and pulling the zipper down with excruciating slowness. You're tempted to help him out, speed things up. But you know the only way to make things right with San is to let him have total control.

As your trousers loosen, sliding down over your hips, his hands ghost over your ass, tracing your curves. Rising up on tiptoes, wanting to keep his hands on your skin for as long as possible, curving your hips just so. But he pulls away regardless.

Woo steps in closer, taking his place, his hand around your wrists. Unclasping your watch on one side, your bracelet on the other.

“Three,” he kisses you, hot and fierce, leaving you breathless, “Four.” His lips softer this time, lingering for a moment, before lifting your hand to his mouth. His lips close over your finger, sliding down to the simple band where his teeth graze your skin as he pulls gently. Sliding the ring free with the help of his incredibly articulate tongue, he drops it into your now upturned palm, still slick with his saliva.

“Five.” And then he pulls away again, leaving you standing there heart pounding, flesh dimpling in the sudden chill.

And now you stand before them both. Blind, vulnerable, listening, waiting.

You’re not sure how many times you cheated, not sure it even matters at this point, you’ve come too far to stop now. Movement on both sides of you, making you flinch, and there’s a hiss on one side, the huff of a laugh on the other.

“I thought you trusted us, baby?” San is still pulling the pouty princess act, knowing Wooyoung finds the whole act ridiculous. As they maneuver you back to the chair, fingers slide under the waistband of your silk cami knickers, it’s sinful how easily they fall to the floor, pooling at your feet. A deft thumb flicks the catch of your bra, releasing you from your final restraints.

Thanking every deity you can bring to mind for the blindfold, you stand tall, all too aware of their scrutiny and the appreciative noises coming from both of them. Fingertips skimming your flesh, bringing a sensual warmth wherever they land, guiding you once more to the cushioned seat. Lips almost, but not quite, touching you. Their whispers ghosting across your flesh.

But now there’s nothing between the bare skin of your thighs and the plush fabric of the chair. Aware of how exposed you are under their gaze, far from being intimidated, you're more aroused than ever and you need them to do something about it. With a whispered gasp you slide easily down, angling your hips to open yourself up. At the same time you move your hands to cover yourself, with a demure modesty you definitely aren’t feeling, one hand crossing your chest to cover your breasts from view, and the other sliding between your legs.

Except that far from covering your cunt, your fingers slide into position to accentuate what they can almost, but not quite, see.

Almost as soon as you hear the hushed whisper of fabric against carpet, you feel his skin sliding under your thighs, lifting your ass up off the seat just enough to allow him access to your core. His lips pressing against the inside of your thigh, teeth sinking gently into your flesh, drawing the most salacious of moans from you. And before you can even catch your breath, his tongue laps against you, sliding between your folds, his saliva mingling with your own slick. His fingers curl around your thighs pulling you wider as he presses his mouth harder against you, his deft tongue probing ever deeper.

Dropping your chin to your chest, struggling to control your breathing, you press your heels into his shoulders as his talented mouth teases you, nibbling and sucking slowly all the way to your clit. And when his lips close around you, sucking so gently you cry out, your hands reaching for him, only to have them removed and placed on the arms off the chair. You’re in torment, you need to touch him, to feel the warmth of his skin. But you know this is part of the punishment, so instead you slide your hands across your own body in defiance, caressing the parts of yourself that long for their touch.

A hand closes around your throat, fingers squeezing gently only to pull away as you swallow. You whimper at the loss of contact. Between them you know they’ll destroy you tonight, in all the very best ways and you’re longing for it. Fingers lifting your chin, tilting it towards him, before he pulls away again, loving the noises he draws from deep inside you. 

Feeling the tip of a cock pressed against your lips, no force, he slides first one way then the other, circling your mouth, coating your lips in his precum. You dare to flick your tongue out to caress him, licking your smeared lips, relishing the taste of him. He presses again, breaching your lips and pulling almost instantly back again.

At the same time you feel the tongue withdraw and your thighs are released. Clenching on nothing you whine, sliding further down the seat hoping to feel him just a breath away. But no, they’ve both withdrawn completely, and you know, you know they’re standing together, looking down on you now. You have no concept of shame as you move your fingers to your mouth to feel his slick, and down to trace the tender bitemark.

“Not this time.”  Wooyoung pulls your hands away and places them once again on the arms of the chair, stroking your knuckles with the pad of a finger, making sure you stay put.

With a quick caress of your cheek San presses his lips to your forehead and whispers, “Guess who”

He still smells dark and delicious, and you’re desperate to taste him again, but “What?” it slips from your lips before you can stop it.

“Who was who?’ He's so quiet, so hoarse, you can barely hear him, but you can feel the desire coming off him in waves. He wants this even more than you do.

“Or more importantly, who was where?” Wooyoung snaps you out of your reverie, bringing you back to the game once more.

Brushing your hair free of your flushed and heated face, you tip your head up towards his voice, dragging your teeth across your lower lip. “I thought the game was over?”

Sensing movement in front of you, you’re ready when Wooyoung’s scent enfolds you, he’s so close now. If you were to lean forward, even an inch, your lips would make contact with him, but before you can move he speaks.

“Oh so that’s how you see things? You get to cheat, and then we service you? Sounds like a win:win for you.” He pulls away just as you lean in closer, and you almost topple forward.

San’s strong hands catch you, and he presses you back into the seat, “Where’s the punishment there?” Oh you never want this San to let you go free. You struggle in vain, just enough for him to tighten his hands on your shoulders. But your smile gives you away and he releases you again.

“Please.” truly repentant, you need to convince them. You’ve never wanted anything more than to have them worshipping your body the way they promised. Folding your hands together, pressing them to your lips like a sinner in earnest prayer, the tears come. Slowly at first, the self pity is all consuming, but a breath against your skin reminds you of what you were so close to just moments ago and the longing overwhelms you. You need them. “Please, please me…”

The shiver starts at the base of your spine, working its way upwards then out to your shoulders, until you’re shaking all over, sobs wracking your body. It feels like you’ll never be warm again, like you’ve been abandoned and their love was only ever a fantasy, an illusion. You start to babble your apologies, sorry for your arrogance, your wanton behaviour, for taking them for granted, for not treasuring every precious moment they share with you. You’d apologise for existing in their absence if you thought they’d believe you.

Then fingers in your hair, a loosening of a pressure you weren’t even aware of, and then light blinds you, forcing you to clamp your eyes shut tightly as they slide the scarf away from your head. Blinking, keeping your head low, your hair sticking to your tear stained cheeks, you see the soft fabric being wound around your still clasped hands. Over and over and around your wrists, binding your hands together, restraining you.

“Oh no, no need for tears,” San moves into your blurred vision, his thumb tracing the damp skin under your eyes, before slipping it into his mouth, tasting your tears with a gentle smile.

He shakes his head as you resist a tug on your arms. Wooyoung pulls the fabric again, more firmly, drawing you to your feet. “Come on penitent angel, let’s take this somewhere a little more comfortable.”