After an hour, you’re sure he’s not coming. You can’t say you’re too disappointed, another in a long line of blind dates set up by your mother trying to find you a husband, and you’re starting to think that maybe this just isn’t for you.

It’s not the first time you’ve been stood up, but it’s the first time in a long while and you had forgotten the sting of it. The way it feels to a be a woman alone at the restaurant bar, checking your phone endlessly and nursing a drink, feeling the pity of the wait staff and bartenders when you tell them you’ll wait just a little bit longer.

You had started off with water, but around the thirty-minute mark you decided it was a fifty-fifty chance he was ditching you, and you should just start drinking. You’re paced with your first cocktail, still giving this faceless man the benefit of the doubt. Traffic could be bad, work could be crazy, phone lines everywhere in Seoul could be down, or he could have just decided against meeting you.

              Sipping the end of your cocktail, you sigh. It’s also possible that he made it to the restaurant, saw you, and left, but that’s a thought you can’t entertain for too long without feeling sad about being thirty and single.

              Your phone lights up with a text message and you open it to see the incoming message from your best friend – how is it??? is he cute??

              a no show – you respond quickly, and you see the bubble pop up immediately to indicate that she’s typing.

              what an ass – she says, and then a second message comes through – you deserve a drink.

              way ahead of you – you tell her, sending her a picture of your fancy looking cocktail.

              pick up a handsome stranger – she suggests with a cheeky emoji – and never agree to a blind date from your mom again.

              haha – you roll your eyes as you type – i’m just going to go home, order pizza, and watch a movie or something

              suit yourself – she sends with a shrugging emoji – call me later

              You sigh, sending her a thumbs up and leaning back from the bar. It’s a pretty restaurant, romantic and warm, and you really would have liked to eat here. You watch the ice in your glass melting for a minute and check the time. You should go home, kick off these ridiculously high heels, and find something infinitely more comfortable to wear than this dress.

              You’re a moment away from standing up and going to going to coat check when the bartender returns and slides another drink in front of you with a smile.

              “Oh,” you shake your head slightly, “I didn’t order another drink,”

              “It’s from the gentlemen across the bar,” he nods over his shoulder in a vague direction.

              “Thank you,” you tell him, and you’re sure the surprise is evident on your face. As he leaves to tend to other patrons, you turn and look for the men who sent you the drink.

              The first thing you realize is how striking they are, and the one with the sharp eyes raises his glass to you and nods with a smile. The man next to him, with kind eyes and an easy, relaxed air about him simply gives you a warm smile before turning back to his friend.

              You recover quickly from your surprise and nod back in thanks. They make no effort to get up, and both have already looked away from you, so you accept the drink quietly and settle back into your seat at the bar for just one more. The only thing is that you can’t stop glancing over at them, handsome and ignoring you, which just about always describes your type. The kind looking taller man stands, and you watch him out of the corner of his eye as he drops a handful of bills on the bar. He leans in close to his friend and murmurs something in his ear, and you watch when his hand rests on the back of his neck, and softly strokes the hair at the nape of his neck. More than friends then.

              As the tall one disappears back into the restaurant, presumably to find the bathroom or check on their table, you realize these men are clearly a couple who realized you had been stood up and sent you a drink. It was sweet, and also kind of sad, and you draw your eyes back down to your phone to finish your drink in relative peace and silence.

              It startles you when a man slides into the seat next to you, and you realize it’s the one with the striking eyes and plush mouth, no longer across the bar but right here in front of you. He smiles wide, revealing perfectly white teeth, “Hello,” he says and his voice is deeper than you expected.

              “Hi,” you shift in your seat to angle towards him just a bit, “I guess I should be thanking you for the drink,”

              He shakes his head, waving your thanks away, “Forgive me if I’m assuming something here,” he says, “but you look dressed for a date.”

              “Mm,” you nod and shrug, “he didn’t show,”

              “I thought that might be the case,” he says, and he breaks your gaze to reach out for the bartender, ordering two more drinks with an easy silent hand gesture.

              “And you?” You ask him, a striking flutter in your stomach when he looks at you again, “Are you and your partner waiting for a table?”

              “Husband,” he corrects softly and then moves smoothly past it, “No, we just stopped by for a drink or two. We just noticed you sitting alone and thought we might be able to make your night a little better,”

              “That’s very kind,” you smile, relaxing into some easy conversation. He’s handsome, and it makes you feel a little like blushing every time he looks at you, but knowing the pressure is off for flirting leaves you feeling more comfortable than not.

              “I’m Seonghwa,” he introduces himself.

              “y/n,” you reply.

              “That’s pretty,” he smiles, and as the bartender returns with the two drinks you realize one isn’t for you, but for his husband. You had most of the drink that they bought you left, and you take a quick sip as Seonghwa thanks the bartender and takes one of the drinks.

              You’re about to thank him again or find something to make conversation about, when a hand drops onto the back of your chair and Seonghwa’s husband steps closer, occupying the space between your two bar seats and feeling even taller standing over you. He’s handsome too, especially up close where you can really be dazzled by his kind smile and broad shoulders.

              “There you are,” the man smiles down at Seonghwa and then turns to you, “I’m Yunho,”

              “y/n,” you tell him, and you don’t miss the way Seonghwa’s hand reaches around Yunho to rest on his back.

              “That is pretty,” he nods, and then he refocuses on the drinks at the bar, “is that for me?”

              Seonghwa nods and passes him the glass.

              Yunho’s hand stays anchored on the back of your chair, but you don’t mind. You’re tucked up close with them at the bar, these two strangers, but it feels comfortable and easy, and almost like you’re sharing a little secret amongst the three of you. You don’t mind not being alone at the bar anymore either.

              “So, your date,” Yunho moves the light conversation back to you, “did he get stuck at work or something?”

              “Ah,” you sigh, shaking your head, “no, he’s just a no show. It was a blind date though, so maybe I dodged a bullet.”

              “I’d say so,” Seonghwa observes.

              “His loss,” Yunho agrees, “I’m sure he’d be kicking himself if he knew how beautiful you are,”

              His tone is almost flirtatious, and you can’t hide the blush that warms your cheeks, aided slightly by the second cocktail. “Well,” you take a sip of your drink, “thank you,”

              “I never liked blind dates,” Seonghwa’s nose scrunches a bit at the idea and Yunho laughs.

              “You went on one,” Yunho shakes his head, “and you were twenty. Of course, it was terrible,”

              Seonghwa smirks up at him, “I meant I never liked the idea of them,”

              They’re sweet together, and you think idlily for a moment you wouldn’t mind being their friend.

              Yunho turns back to you and holds your gaze, “Do you do this a lot, then?”

              “Blind dates?” You clarify and he nods. “Lately,” you smile, “I’m doing my best to appease my very nervous mother,”

              “Ah,” he takes a long sip of his drink and then asks, “no promising candidates?”

              “Not yet,” you laugh, “I think I’m about to give up dating men entirely.”

              Yunho hums, a low pleased sound and looks to Seonghwa before meeting your eyes, “You need someone to take care of you.”

              The tone has shifted from casual joking to whatever this is with one look, and you feel a sudden strike of heat in your stomach. There’s no mistaking his gaze now, and you wonder suddenly how you got so far out into such deep water.

              Seonghwa’s voice is low and direct when he says, “We could take care of you.”

              You lower your drink to the bar, afraid that if you don’t it might slip right through your fingers, and they watch you carefully. The way your eyes widen in surprise and your lips part softly, a pink flush up your neck and cheeks. When you shift on your barstool, your legs tightening, unconsciously applying a little pressure to your core, they know they have you.

              “I’m not sure I understand,” you manage.

              “If you’re interested,” Seonghwa leans forwards just a few inches, “we’d like to take you home with us.”

              “Tonight?” you ask.

              Yunho grins, quietly laughing, “Yes, tonight.”

              “But I thought you were,” you gesture between them, drawing a line in the air from Seonghwa to Yunho and back again.

              “We are,” Seonghwa smiles, “but that doesn’t mean we aren’t interested in you, and we still would like to take you home.”

              You’re suddenly a little embarrassed, you didn’t mean to assume anything about their relationship or their sexuality, but you’d be lying if you said this is what you expected when they came over to have a drink with you. You nod, mostly to yourself and consider their words. You want them, a striking realization. You want them, and you want them to take you apart, and that thought terrifies you.

              “What does taking me home mean, exactly?” You ask.

              “It means you would spend the night with us,” Seonghwa explains.

              “All of us,” you clarify, “together?”

              “If you’d like,” he nods.

              They wait patiently while you consider things, and in the back of your mind you hear your best friend’s voice in your head, she had suggested you find a handsome stranger. You certainly didn’t expect to find two. You look between them, their eyes still warm and kind, and you have a sense that you can trust them. As you take a breath to answer them, you hope you aren’t wrong, “Okay,”

              “You don’t have to be nervous,” Yunho says softly, and you’re suddenly aware of how close he’s been standing to you this whole time, “we’ll take good care of you.”

              For some reason, you believe him.

              You swallow hard, your skin buzzing with anxious anticipation. Seonghwa seems visibly relaxed now that you’ve agreed, and he takes a sip of his drink, “We’ve been looking for someone to dote on,”

              They seem amused by your expression, and you shake it off come back to reality. You’ve had one night stands before, but they’re few and far between and never quite like this, but no matter how safe they are making you feel now, you should treat it like any other time in the past. You clear your throat softly and ask, “Would you be uncomfortable if I shared your address with my friend?”

              “Not at all,” Yunho shakes his head, “whatever makes you feel more comfortable.”

              You take your phone off the bar and open your texts, tapping out a quick message to your friend to let her know you took her advice, and you’d call her tomorrow, before sharing your location with her indefinitely.

              “Once you’re ready,” Seonghwa nods to your drink on the bar.

              “Oh,” You push the drink away slightly, “honestly, I’d rather keep a clear head.”

              “Of course,” he smiles, and lays his hand on top of yours.

              “I’ll order a car,” Yunho says, and he quickly organizes an Uber ride to pick you up outside the restaurant.

              It feels like before you can blink, you’re tucked between the two of them in the back of a black sedan, their apartment only twenty minutes away in the evening Seoul traffic. The ride is quiet, and you hope they can’t hear the way your heart is pounding against your ribs. This was easily the most spur of the moment thing you’ve ever done, but after months of failed dates with boring men you don’t seem to care.

              Seonghwa gently runs the back of his knuckles down your forearm, and you inhale sharply, your skin erupting in goosebumps. He looks over to you, but his hand against your arm doesn’t still, “You okay, love?”

              You nod, but you’re unable to really say anything after the way his voice sounded, low and crisp when he called you love. Something deep inside you wants him to say it again.

              The car drives on, and Yunho seems calm and collected as he watches the city flick by outside. Your body tenses when he drops a hand on your bare knee, sliding it up just enough so that his fingertips rest softly on your inner thigh, his thumb stroking your knee slowly, steadily. You can’t help but picture him moving his hand further up your thigh, under your skirt, teasing your wet folds with his long fingers, sinking them inside you. You don’t even realize the way you’ve parted your knees for him like a reflex, only an inch or two wider, but he smiles softly at your response and continues watching out the window.

              You notice the thin, simple ring he wears on his index finger and realize that neither of them is wearing a traditional wedding band.

              “We’re not far now,” Seonghwa tells you, and you nod, shaken out of your thoughts.

              Yunho’s hand stays steady on your knee, possessive, the weight of it grounding you to the moment as the car finally turns down their street and slows to a stop, hazard lights on. Yunho opens his door, tightening the hand on your knee for just a moment before pulling away and climbing out of the car, and your breath quickens.

              He offers you his hand, and you take it gratefully, you don’t want to be unsteady on your heels or in this tight dress. The street is busy, cars rushing past you in the night, and Yunho keeps you tucked between himself and the car, maneuvering you with ease and a hand on your waist.

              You meet Seonghwa on the sidewalk, and he waves you towards the tall apartment building. You pass through an entry way with a doorman who greets Seonghwa and Yunho kindly, calling you miss even though you’re pretty sure you’re older than both men by a couple of years, and get into an elevator to take you to the tenth floor.

              The building is nice, incredibly nice. Far nicer than yours, and you wonder what their jobs could be to accommodate something like this in such an expensive part of Seoul.

              Once inside their apartment, the gentle tension between the three of you diffuses, as you’re finally able to acknowledge more openly what’s about to happen. You step into their space and look around, wide windows along the far wall, clean and neat décor – masculine with a few interesting accents, and it’s overwhelmingly clean.

              “Welcome,” Seonghwa takes your coat and hangs it neatly in the entryway closet before ushering you more properly inside. “I’ll get you some water? Unless you’ve changed your mind about the drink?”

              “Water’s fine,” you smile, and he steps through the open concept space into a large, bright kitchen.

              “This apartment is beautiful,” you say as you take it in.

              “Thank you,” Yunho smiles, seeming even more relaxed now that he’s at home, “we love it here. It’s right in the middle of everything,”

              “What is it that you both do?” You ask, trying to find a tactful way of finding out how they could possibly afford the space.

              Seonghwa returns with your water, and they bring you into the living room, gesturing for you to make yourself comfortable on the sofa. Yunho takes a seat on chair opposite you, “Seonghwa’s a writer,” he smiles up at his husband, clearly proud, “and I’m a lawyer,”

              “That’s interesting,” you lean forwards, and Seonghwa moves past you to sit on the sofa with you.

              Yunho makes a face and shrugs, “It’s contract law, so not that interesting really, but he’s published now.”

              Seonghwa looks a little shy while his husband touts his accomplishments, and shakes his head, “it’s nothing, really.”

              Yunho shakes his head, “It’s two books,”

              “That’s impressive actually,” you tell him, “novels?”

              “Yes,” he nods.

              “I’d love to see,”

              “Another time,” Seonghwa shakes his head and waves Yunho off, who you can tell is a breath away from running to the bookshelf.

              Seonghwa shifts a little closer to you on the couch, “What about you?”

              “Oh,” you smile, “I’m an engineer,” a job that the men you dated often found intimidating.

              “Interesting,” he replies, “do you like it?”

              “Very much,” It feels suddenly like you’re on a real date with them, and you’re grateful that they are easing you into their space and the night, it helps your nerves melt away. “How did you two meet?”

              “College,” Yunho looks to Seonghwa, and you can see the deep affection in his face.

              “That’s nice,” you murmur.

              “y/n,” Seonghwa clears his throat, “can I ask how old you are?”

              “I’m thirty,” you offer without hesitation, “and I’m a little upset that you guys have a much nicer apartment than I do when you’re younger than me.”

              Yunho chuckles and shrugs, and after a beat you find yourself asking too, “How old are you both, then?”

              “Twenty-seven,” Yunho offers and nods to Seonghwa, “he’s twenty-eight.”

              “Two books by twenty-eight,” you sigh, “I see why you talk him up,” you say to Yunho, and he smiles, eyebrows raised to Seonghwa.

              You take a long sip of water and it’s quiet, a lull in conversation, and you watch as Yunho and Seonghwa silently communicate something with their eyes.

              “Is there anything else you need?” Seonghwa hand rests on your leg for a moment.

              “No, I think I’m fine,”

              “Then we should discuss tonight,” Seonghwa says, “we’d like to be sure we understand your boundaries.”

              “Oh,” you’re surprised again, “okay, that makes sense. We hardly know each other,”

              “Exactly,” he nods, before looking to Yunho and giving him a nod.

              Yunho leans forwards in his chair, elbows on his knees and he gently clasps his hands in front of him before he says, “First, I should ask, do you have any hard lines? Anything specific that makes you uncomfortable?”

              “I don’t think so,” you search your brain, but can’t come up with anything.

              He nods and adjusts, “Let me ask it a little differently,” he says, “are you comfortable being more submissive?”

              You blush, and Yunho smiles, loving the way you jumped into this experience headfirst but still seem completely embarrassed by the logistics of it. You nod a beat later to respond to his question, “I’d prefer it,” you tell him honestly.

              “That’s good,” his eyes flick to Seonghwa, and back to you. “If I had to guess, you seem like you would enjoy praise, but how about a little degradation? Name calling and more targeted dirty talk?”

              Your stomach tightens at his words, and you nod again, “All good.”

              “And pain?” He checks.

              “What do you mean?” You fold your arms unconsciously, leaning back and crossing your arms in front of you, which does not go unnoticed by either of them. The spectrum of pain that could be incorporated into sex is a wide one, and you’re suddenly nervous.

              “It’s okay if you don’t like it,” he assures you, “it’s just good for us to know before we start anything.”

              “I mean,” you let your arms drop, and try to delicately work out exactly what he means, “rough sex is fine, that can be good, and I don’t mind light things, I guess? I just wouldn’t want to,” you knot your hands together, “actually be in pain, I don’t think I would like that.”

              He nods along with your words, “I understand,” he says, holding your gaze, “we won’t hurt you.”

              “Last thing,” Seonghwa brushes a hand down your back, “if you want to stop for anything – to take a break, to stop altogether, or if you don’t like something, just tell us. We want you to feel safe with us,”

              “I do so far,” you admit.

              “Well then,” Seonghwa smiles and looks to Yunho, “is there anything else?”

              “Ah,” Yunho nods, “birth control. Should we be concerned about that, would you prefer we wear condoms?”

              “I’m on birth control, but,” you look between them, “is this something you do often?”

              Yunho shakes his head, a warm, small smile on his lips, “No, and we’ve been tested since our last additional partner. What about you?”

              You laugh and shrug, “I haven’t gotten out much lately, and at my last physical I tested clean,”

              “Then we’re comfortable if you are,”

              “I am,” you nod, and Yunho leans back in his seat, looking pleased. You were both taking some things on faith about each other, but everything’s felt shockingly right since the bar, and with the way Yunho was carefully walking through your boundaries beforehand, you feel like you can trust them.

              Yunho leans back in his chair fully, his legs seated wide open, and his eyes darken. “Hwa,” he nods to his husband, and you realize you’re about to start – no longer talking in hypotheticals.

              “y/n,” Seonghwa’s voice is soft and a little tender, “come here, love.”

              You lean towards him, and slowly he presses his mouth to yours. He’s careful with you, kissing you with closed lips and settling his hand on your hip, but slowly he starts to probe forwards. His tongue dips deliciously into your mouth as your lips part, and his hands start to stray as he moves to hover over you as you still sit side by side on the couch.

              Seonghwa’s lips move across your jaw and slowly down your throat, when his hand on your ribs tightens, you gasp pleasantly.

              “Mm,” Seonghwa hums against your throat, “you’re so responsive,”

              At a nip of his teeth you jump, a little shockwave running over you. You shift to kiss his lips again, and he drags you forwards against him so you can hold onto his shoulders. You hum against his lips and try to shift so that you’re facing him better on the couch but the tight column of your dress gets in the way of your movement.

              Seonghwa tugs collar of the navy-blue dress a little and you feel his fingers find the zipper on the back, “Let’s take this off you, hmm?”

              You nod, all you seem to be able to do with your brain short circuiting like this, and he drags the zipper down to expose your back to the cool air of the apartment. Seonghwa peels it away from you with ease, and it pools at your waist. You’ll need to stand to shimmy it off fully, but he doesn’t seem to be in any rush.

              He drinks you in, and you’re suddenly grateful that you chose the underwear you did. He cups your breast over your bra, a little lace in peachy pink, and squeezes softly. “Isn’t she perfect?” Seonghwa turns and looks to Yunho.

              You had almost forgotten he was in the room, so quiet while you and Seonghwa explored each other, but when you follow his gaze, you see Yunho’s eyes dark with desire his lips wet. “Perfect,” he confirms.

              Seonghwa stands and pulls you to your feet, and he loosens the zipper on the back of your dress the rest of the way. With a slide of his hands he strips the fabric off you, his hands splayed wide on your thighs as he settles behind you.

              Yunho holds a handout to you, and you step forwards, Seonghwa’s hands falling away.

              “Come sit,” he adjusts his legs and pats his thigh, prompting you to straddle him on the chair and sit on his lap, facing him.

              His gaze is exposing, and you can feel yourself blushing when you look away from him. He makes a negative noise with his tongue against his teeth, and he raises your eyes with his and on your jaw, “What’s the matter, baby?”

              “Nothing,” you shake your head, “I just don’t know that anyone’s ever looked at me this closely before,”

              He smiles and looks down at your body, pressing softly on your chest to make you lean away from him a little, and you brace yourself with a hand behind you on his knee. He drags his middle and ring finger down your body, starting at your breastbone and coasting slowly over your stomach, dipping along your navel, and stopping just above the hemline of your panties. He strokes the skin here, massaging it gently, “You deserve to be looked at,” he lets his thumb slip under your panties, continuing his massaging circles, “and to be touched.”

              “Oh,” you shiver, and he likes the way you’re already twitching with need above him.

              “Do you want to be touched?” his thumb slides lower and brushes it lightly your skin.

              You nod, a little desperately, “Yes,” you already sound a little breathless.

              “Not yet,” he moves suddenly, sitting up and dragging you forwards against him in one smooth movement, and he catches your mouth with his, he’s lips insistent and hungry against yours.

              His hands roam your body, palming each breast, sweeping along your hips and thighs, and squeezing the soft flesh of your ass. You can’t help the soft moan that slips out of your mouth when he catches your bottom lip with his teeth, and he sighs into you.

              “Yunho,” Seonghwa’s voice cuts through and you both break the kiss to turn to him, “let’s take her to bed, hmm?”

              “Mhm,” he holds you close and hoists himself standing, pulling your legs up around his hips and hooking one of his arms under your hips to hold you up, “Let’s go,”

              “You can put me down,” you offer him.

              “Not a chance,” his hands squeeze you.

              Once in the bedroom, he deposits you in the center of their king mattress, appraising you and waiting for Seonghwa.

              “You look good in our bed,” Seonghwa observes, his voice dropping at the sight of you.

              You push up on your elbows, “Where should we start?”

              “Just relax,” Yunho eases you, “we’re in no rush,”

              Yunho moves behind Seonghwa, dropping his head to nuzzle softly against his temple, bringing his arms around Seonghwa’s shoulders. Your mouth runs dry the minute you watch Yunho’s mouth working against Seonghwa’s throat, and his hands start to unfasten the buttons of his shirt, bearing Seonghwa’s chest to you little by precious little.

              You inhale sharply and watch Seonghwa drop his head back to bare his neck, adorned in a fine gold chain, his eyes slipping shut and letting himself sink into the tender ministrations of his lover. As Yunho runs his hands up Seonghwa’s chest slowly, your legs part on their own and the hand you had resting on your stomach starts to creep lower.      

              You can’t tear your eyes away from them, Seonghwa’s chest rising and falling in quick pants as Yunho sucks on his pulse points and runs his thumb across a nipple. You dip your fingers under your panties, sinking your fingers into your already wet folds, and start to circle your fingers expertly on your already swollen clit.

              At a broken little whimper from your lips, Yunho and Seonghwa both look to you and for a moment they watch the way your hand bobs up and down, fabric straining over the back of your knuckles, but then Seonghwa steps forwards and seizes your wrist, pulling your hand free.

“We told you,” He kneels on the bed by your side, “we’ll take care of you.” He raises your hand to his lips and takes your wet fingers into his mouth, tongue curling around your digits and sucking off any evidence of your arousal.

              “Oh,” you breathe, nearly groaning at the sensation.

              He slides your fingers slowly from his mouth, kissing the tips softly before dropping your hand back on your stomach and sliding off the bed again. In the interim, Yunho has stripped down to his boxers and undershirt, and you’re electric with anticipation.

              “You have to taste her,” Seonghwa says, unbuckling his belt to drop his trousers, leaving him in just his boxers.

              “I will,” Yunho assures him, and the promise of it has you aching to be touched.

              Seonghwa slips back onto the bed with you, only this time he slides down to lay next to you, rolling you to face him on your side and kisses you hard, his lips more insistent this time and his hand tight on your hip. The bed dips behind you, and Yunho brings himself close to your back, almost spooning. He runs his hand along your thigh and presses it up, maneuvering your one leg up and bent at the knee, and Seonghwa deftly catches it and holds it hitched over his hip.

              You’re trembling when Yunho starts to touch you, running his finger along your clothed slit, and you want to beg for more, but Seonghwa won’t let you leave his kisses for anything but air. Yunho knows though, reading your body’s twitches and jerks, and he hooks his finger under the edge of your panties to push them aside and sink a single finger inside you. You gasp against Seonghwa’s mouth and Yunho kisses your bare shoulder, “You’re so tight, baby,” he works his finger in and out of you slowly, “do you really think you can take us?”

              Seonghwa smiles against your mouth and his fingers tighten on your thigh, “Too tight for Yunho’s fingers?”

              All you can manage is a moan, and when Yunho pulls out this time, he adds a second finger and presses you open more. “We can work you open,” he breaths against your back, warm breath on your bare skin, “don’t worry, baby.”

              “Oh my god,” you can’t believe how good they are at this, practiced in how to touch and what to say, and you know there’s no coming back from this, every touch making you more insatiable.

              Yunho’s fingers leave you, and he leans away to unhook your bra, sliding the straps down and you maneuver with them to take it off and toss it aside. Seonghwa moves closer, impossibly so, and slides his leg between yours, pressing up firmly with his thigh against your center. He slips a hand into your hair and holds you firmly before holding your gaze tightly and nodding, his thigh flexing under you.

              You know what he wants instantly, and you rock against him, grinding yourself down on his bare thigh, the rough lace of your underwear creating sharp friction against your clit. Yunho’s hand slips between you, palming your bare breast and tweaking your nipple, flicking and rolling it as it pebbles up hard under his fingers.

              Seonghwa’s face has a hardened edge to it now, and you hold onto him desperately as you work yourself against him, embarrassingly close to coming already. He adjusts his hold on your hair and holds you tight, “Come on then,” he taunts you, “you wanted to make yourself come so badly,”

              “Oh god,” you try to drop your eyes, but he holds you steady, his free hand delivering a quick slap to your backside.

              You jolt, whimpering into a moan, and Yunho massages the spot to soothe the sting. When you come it’s fast against Seonghwa’s thigh, and they let you drop back against the bed a moment later.

              Yunho pulls his shirt over his head and lays back flat against the bed, getting himself comfortable before he turns to you. You’re looking into his eyes when you feel a tug on your panties, Seonghwa pulling them down and off you.

              “I need you to come up here,” Yunho grins, tapping his chin. 

              “What do you,” you’re starting to say, put Seonghwa has already pulled you up and away from Yunho before you can finish your sentence.

              “You’re going to sit on his face,” Seonghwa says, not a question but a command, “and he’s going to make you come.”

              Your breath is caught in your throat, but you’re ready, throwing your nerves and any lingering self-consciousness out the window. Seonghwa watches as you move to climb onto Yunho, but he interrupts you when he sees which way you’ll be facing. “Turn the other way,” he says, and guides you until you straddle Yunho, resting two hands on his chest to hold yourself steady.

              Yunho pulls you down sharply, his tongue probing your slick folds to find your clit. His arms wrap tightly around your hips to hold you steady, and you’re left to do nothing but hold yourself up and rock your hips against his tongue.

              “Eyes on me,” Seonghwa says, and your head snaps up. Seonghwa pulls Yunho’s boxers down his legs with ease, and your eyes widen at the sight of his cock standing hard at attention. You moan, wanting him with such a sudden heat that your hips drop down a little further and you hear Yunho hum, pleased and encouraging.

              Seonghwa drops between Yunho’s legs, and though Seonghwa himself is not a small man, between Yunho’s thighs and long legs he looks it. You watch as Seonghwa starts to work Yunho’s cock, rolling his wrist and pumping up and down his thick length. Yunho moans into you and sucks your clit sharply in response, your brain spiking with pleasure, and you collapse further down onto Yunho.

              “I’ll show you what he likes,” Seonghwa says, and he dips his head to accept Yunho in his mouth. His hips jerk, and Seonghwa slaps Yunho’s thigh softly as if to tell him off. Seonghwa bobs his head up and down Yunho’s cock, as far down as he can take him comfortably and you are flushed with heat, a tight knot of pleasure building inside you.

              Yunho moans into you again and your legs start to shake, his constant attention to your clit driving you up fast and you can’t control the sounds that leave you now. Seonghwa pulls off Yunho when he hears you, and reaches up to take your chin, “Spit,” he commands, holding out his hand and you comply easily, pooling saliva in your mouth and letting it run from your lips into his hand.

              Seonghwa drops the hand you spit into on Yunho’s throbbing cock and works his hand faster now, the sound slick and wet and with Seonghwa’s eyes on you, you come again, falling fully onto Yunho’s chest and abdomen and arching your hips, letting him hold you to his tongue for as long as possible until he’s sure you’ve come through it.

              He pulls away from you with a gasp, “Hwa, stop, stop,” and you see the way Yunho’s hips are jerking, thrusting his cock into Seonghwa’s tight hand, too close to coming for how early it is in the night.

              Seonghwa pulls his hand away, and leans forward to kiss you, tender, “You’re doing so well,”

              You smile, dreamy, and ease yourself off Yunho.

              Yunho sits up, pulling you into his arms with ease, “Look at you,” he kisses you and smiles, “you’re perfect,”

              “Love,” Seonghwa brushes his hand along your thigh, “what do you need?”

              Your hand drifts, coasting down Yunho’s front, and you run your hand along his hard cock. Yunho groans softly, his eyes fluttering shut, and you kiss his chest, “I want you in my mouth,”

              Yunho pants slightly as you pump your hand, but you turn in his arms to look at Seonghwa, “and I want you inside me,”

              Seonghwa’s lips quirk into a smile and he chuckles, “Is that how you want to be treated, love? Like a whore?”

              No one’s ever called you that before, and you whine unexpectedly, Seonghwa watching when your face melts into a needy pout, and he knows he’s unlocking something for you.

              “If that’s what you want,” he shrugs, and he taps Yunho to tell him it’s time to move into a new position.

              When Yunho shifts off the bed to stand, Seonghwa kneels behind you, and he pulls your hips up fast to position you on all fours. The head of his cock is pressing at your entrance a second later, and he pushes down on your back to arch you open.

              “Please,” you look back at him, “please fuck me,”

              He shakes his head, “Take him in your mouth first,” He says, “as far as you can,”

              Yunho steps towards you, and you open your mouth eagerly, ready and waiting. He cups your chin and sinks his hand into your hair, holding the back of your head steady as he shifts his hips forwards and slides his cock over your wet tongue.

              You hear him exhale hard through his nose, and you extend your neck to take him further, your mouth stretched wide around him, and your throat opens to accept as much of him as you can take. He bumps the back of your throat, and you choke around him, your gag reflex firing and he slides himself out of your mouth. You shake your head, a heaving gasp on your lips, “No, no, I want to try again,”

              Yunho looks down at you, his tongue against his teeth as he holds himself back from throwing restraint away and fucking you throat, “Is that right? You want to choke on my cock?”

              “Please,” you groan, opening your mouth wide, looking up at him from under your lashes.

              He presses back in, and you take his cock down again, this time slower and more controlled. You steady your breathing, and when you softly choke against him this time, you keep your panic down and don’t gag against him, just struggle through a spluttering cough that seems to only make him harder. When you think you’re getting the hang of it, Seonghwa thrusts forwards and shoves his cock into deeply, griding his hips against you and gripping your waist once he’s fully seated inside you. The sudden stretch has you startled, and you pull off Yunho to cry out, your body trembling as you try to hold yourself up the way they want you.

              Seonghwa’s hand comes down quick, striking your soft skin, lighting up your backside pink, and you gasp into a choked cry. Yunho pushes your hair back from your face and crouches to be at your eye level, but before he can say anything, Seonghwa delivers another punishing spank and you jolt forwards, body shaking and a tight noise from your lips.

              “Hwa!” Yunho’s voice is quick and cutting and you feel Seonghwa still completely. Yunho holds your face and meets your eyes, “Too much? Are you alright?”

              “Why’d you stop?” You press your hips back into Seonghwa, panting and blinking through the haze, “Keep going, please, please,”

              “I knew it,” Seonghwa thrusts hard, knocking his hips into yours.

              Yunho presses a messy kiss to your lips, “You’re such a good girl,” he all but growls into your ear, and he stands again to press his cock head to your lips. You lick him sharply, your tongue flicking over his soft slit before you sink your mouth over him once more.

              Seonghwa picks up the pace of his thrusts, driving his cock into you at quick pace, and he curses tightly, “I knew it when I saw you at the bar,” he says, spanking you harshly again, “you were going to be a perfect little whore for us,”

              Your brain whites out at his words, the sensation of him filling you fully and completely combined with the sting of his slaps and Yunho’s cock in your mouth has you completely out of control, held tightly between both men as they thrust into you. Yunho’s hand tightens on your scalp, and he pulls away from you, addressing Seonghwa over your shaking body, “Slide back for me,”

              Seonghwa shifts back, his cock leaving you for a moment, and he pulls you across the sheets, repositioning you quickly before thrusting back inside you and resuming his relentless pace. Yunho kneels low in front of you on the bed, his knees open wide so he can sit low and better meet your gaze. He smiles at you, nodding when he sees the fucked-out expression on your face, and gathers your hair up, securing it a little better in one fist behind your head, his other hand coming to hold your jaw steady.

              You can’t control the noises that slip out of you now, your body feeling like a live wire as Seonghwa pistons his hips harder. Yunho watches you with awe, and he curses when you make particularly pained whine and grip down on the bedsheets beneath you.

              “Mhm,” Yunho coaxes you, his brows knit together as he nods, “there you go, taking Hwa so well,”

              Your muscles tighten down and Seonghwa groans behind you, quickening his hips.

              “Oh god, oh god,” you’ve never felt something like this, your body building to something new, and you feel the way your legs are shaking, hearing the vibration in your voice as you cry out. Yunho draws your hand to his stiff length, and you start to work it without a thought, dragging your hand over him at a steady pace, watching as Yunho’s mouth drops open in pleasure.

              Seonghwa’s hand drops down on your ass again, fully unexpected this time, and you cry out, a sharp, surprised sound, but it tumbles into a keening moan as a tight string inside your body breaks and you crest into a shaking orgasm.

              Yunho pulls you forwards, leaning you on his shoulder to help support you, and he kisses your hairline, his hand shifting to find your throat and squeezing down perfectly. “There you go,” he whispers to you, soothing you as you crash through it, “let go, baby, come for us, baby,”

              His hand releases and you inhale sharply, a tight high-pitched whine, and you press further forwards, your entire body shaking as you come down. Seonghwa pulls out of you, his hands that were a moment ago tight on your skin now soft and massaging, and he brushes his hand lightly over the tender pink skin where he slapped you, soothing you easily now.

              “I can’t breathe,” your chest is heaving, and Yunho directs you easily with his hands so that you’re lying back on the bed now, eyes shut as you recover your breath and try to feel your limbs again.

              Your eyes open again when a hand caresses your chest, softly stroking your skin and running over your stomach. Seonghwa is looking down at you with kind eyes, “Hello, love,”

              You sigh, a long deep exhale and reach for his hand, interlocking your fingers together, “Hi,”

              “Feeling good?” He smiles.

              “So good,” you let your head loll to the side and bump right into Yunho’s thigh.

              “Hey, pretty girl,” He takes your free hand and kisses it softly.

              “God,” your body still feels like it has the shakes, “I didn’t know it could be like that,”

              Seonghwa grins, “We’re not done with you just yet,”

              Yunho slides away from you and moves to the other side of the bed, closing his hands around your calves and dragging you forwards to position you better. He opens your legs, folding them back and you feel your them starting to tremble again already.

              Yunho sighs, and you watch him palm his cock, stroking it as he moves closer to you, nudging your clit with the warm velvet head. Your legs jerk, your hips shifting back and away at the overstimulation, and he shushes you softly, brushing his hand up the back of your thigh and looking down at your warmly, “You’re alright,” he soothes you.

              You watch as he looks up to his husband, and moments later Seonghwa moves in low behind you, reaching around you to take each of your legs and hold you open. Yunho bites his lip softly as he looks down at you before reaching to the side and grabbing a small bottle of lube. He spreads just enough over his cock to make it glisten from tip to base, and when he starts to press inside of you, you’re so grateful for it. If Seonghwa had filled you completely, Yunho was splitting you open and you cry out, your hips shifting back on their own and your head dropping back against Seonghwa’s shoulder.

              Yunho presses forwards, stretching you open, and Seonghwa kisses your temple softly, “Come on, noona,” he whispers, husky, “you can take him.”

              The sound that leaves your lips is sudden and wanton, and when your eyes flutter back open you see Yunho grinning down at you, his cock now fully sheathed inside you. “Listen to you,” he teases, rocking his hips a little, “you liked that.”

              “I don’t,” you shake your head, struggling to reach for coherent thought as he starts to pump himself in and out of you, dragging along your g-spot perfectly and sending sparks of pleasure up your whole body every time he sinks all the way inside, “Fuck, fuck, god,”

              Seonghwa holds your shaking legs open, but dips low to catch your ear in his teeth, softly pulling on the lobe and kissing the hollow of your ear, “Such a dirty mouth, noona,”

              You’re crying now, you have to be with the whimpering sounds that leave you now, but you can’t make sense of anything, just the feeling of Yunho’s hands on your hips, his cock filling every tight little space of your cunt, and Seonghwa’s voice at your ear.

              “Fuck,” your body starts to spasm, and you hear Yunho chuckle, “please, please, fuck,”

              Seonghwa looks up to Yunho, “Faster,” he directs him.

              Yunho tips forwards, his large hands closing over your waist to hold you steady as he fucks into faster, driving his hips down with a pointed snap on every downward thrust. Seonghwa holds you tight, kissing your face, “Do you like being our noona, baby?”

              Your body shakes, locking up and you drop your head back to the bed, letting them both hold you down. Seonghwa shifts his hand to massage your clit and you keen, your walls spasming tightly around Yunho’s hard length as you come apart beneath him.

              “Good girl,” Yunho groans, “come on my cock, noona,”

              You brain blanks, your body quaking uncontrollably and the wave of your orgasm holding you under, blood rushing in your ears.

              Seonghwa chuckles above you, “There we go,”

              Yunho continues to pump his hips, “I have to come,”

              Seonghwa eases up on his forearms, cupping Yunho’s cheek, “Come then,”

              As your body flutters through your orgasm, Yunho groans above you, collapsing on top of you and coming hot and fast inside you. His chest is pressed against yours, and you can feel the way his heart is hammering away, and Seonghwa brushes a hand down both of your sweat slick skin, comforting and calming. When Yunho recovers, he lifts up and captures your mouth in a kiss, sighing against you.

              A few moments pass, and then Yunho realizes you’re shaking beneath him like a leaf, and he slides out of you, rolling to the side.

              Seonghwa cups your cheek, looking at how thoroughly spent you look, but he drags his thumb along your lower lip, “Can you take a little more?”

              “More,” you repeat, but you brain hasn’t reconnected yet.

He pulls you gently so that you’re further on the bed, and slides between your legs, “Can you?”

You’re not entirely sure that you can, but you nod and let him open your legs up to thrust slowly back inside you. He rolls his hips into you slower this time, and you can tell just from looking at him for a moment that he’s close.

You reach to the side, your hand connecting with some extremity, and you gasp out, “Yunho,”

He shifts around to kneel by you both, and as Seonghwa works himself inside you, Yunho cups your cheek, smiling when he sees the way you’re still shaking.

“Yunho,” you repeat, your voice caught in a moan.

“I’m here,” he murmurs softly.

“He’s close,” you pant, and Yunho’s eyes darken, Seonghwa making a shaky groan above you, “he needs to come,”

Yunho realizes in a second what you’re looking for, and it fills him with warmth. Turning his head, he presses a kiss to Seonghwa’s shoulder, before surging forwards and catching his mouth in a heady kiss. Yunho drags a hand down his back, cupping his ass and urging him to fuck you faster. He leans in to his husband’s ear, “You look so beautiful fucking her, so beautiful,”

Seonghwa moans against Yunho, panting as they lean against each other, foreheads pressed together, and you whine beneath them, reaching to tease Seonghwa’s nipple under your thumb to get him closer.

“Oh fuck,” He stutters.

“Please, Hwa,” you moan, “please, come, I need it, I need it,”

You watch as Yunho secures a hand to Seonghwa’s throat and squeezes, and he jerks, coming hard and sudden, his hands that are holding you steady gripping down hard enough to leave bruises. Yunho lets him go but kisses him hard.

Seonghwa pulls out and comes up on his knees between your legs, and your muscles flutter, still spasming with little aftershocks, and you feel the rush of wet warmth between your legs when their combined release drips out of you.

You’re all a little dazed, but Seonghwa recovers first, and you listen as he starts water in the bathroom for a bath. Yunho smiles softly and pulls you into his arms, lifting you with ease and following Seonghwa into the large ensuite.

“How’s that?” Yunho kisses your temple tenderly when he deposits you in the warm water of the bath, and you groan pleasantly at the sensation.

              “Perfect,”

              Seonghwa and Yunho both shower together, poking their heads around the glass wall to make sure you’re still doing okay every few minutes, and by the time they’re cleaned up and wearing soft sleep pants and t-shirts, the water is starting to go tepid and you’re ready to come out.

              Once again, Yunho holds you steady as you step out of the bath and Seonghwa wraps you in a fluffy white towel, patting you dry while Yunho holds you standing and handing you a pretty, champagne colored robe.

              “You can use this for now,” he murmurs, and you tie it around you.

              “Let’s get you some water and some food,” Yunho says, his tone like Seonghwa’s, even and low.

              “I feel like I’m in a fog,” you take a deep breath and sweep your hair back from your face.

              “Mm,” Seonghwa nods, “you need rest.”

              “Can I,” you taken an unsteady step and they both move to hold you steady, “do you mind if I stay for just a bit, I think you’re right, I could use some water.”

              Yunho shakes his head at you, amused, “You’ll stay with us tonight, don’t worry about a thing.”

              “I don’t want to impose,” you sigh.

              “It isn’t an imposition,” Seonghwa insists, “we want you here. Now relax and let us help,”

              So you do. They keep you close for the rest of the evening, cooking for you and massaging the aching muscles in your neck, kissing you with soft familiarity, and treating you much more like a date than a one-night stand.

              Later, you rest in bed between them, laying up on Yunho’s chest and talking to him softly as Seonghwa brushes through your tangled hair. Yunho plays with your fingers, idlily as you lean against him. Your thumb passes over his bare ring finger.              

              “You don’t wear wedding bands,” you observe, more of a statement than a question.

              “Not traditional ones,” Yunho smiles, and he moves your fingers to pass over the ring he wears on his index finger.

              “I wear my chain,” Seonghwa says from your side, and you remember the gold adornment around his neck from earlier.

              “I like non-traditional,” you murmur.

              “It always worked better for us,” Yunho shrugs, “maybe it works better for you too.”

              You hum softly, kissing his chest and Seonghwa puts the hairbrush aside to cuddle close to you both.

              “Noona,” Seonghwa runs a hand across your arm, “how would you feel about doing this again?”

              You blush at his innocuous use of noona after your unexpected response to it earlier, and Yunho chuckles. You look between them, “You mean seeing you both again? The sex?”

              “Yes,” Seonghwa nods, “seeing us again,”

              You nod, trying to control your grin and Yunho dips to kiss you soundly, “Good,”

              “We like you here,” Seonghwa sighs against you.

              “I like me here,”

You love your life. 

You love that you can wake up whenever you want, and that you have no set schedule to live by. The only deadlines you have to worry about are the ones you make for yourself. You love your beautiful apartment that you didn’t need anyone else’s help to get, and that it is so close to everything in the city. You love not worrying about money anymore. You get to live however you deem fit, taking life one day at a time. Everything in your life is by your own design. Honestly? It’s a dream. 

And it’s easy money, giving men a fantasy for the night. 

That’s what you sell, the idea of you. In everyday life, you don’t pout nearly as much as you do on camera, nor do you talk as sweetly to strangers. Some of them, though, aren’t strangers to you anymore. You recognize their usernames and their donations, especially the ones who have been fans of yours since you started, and the ones who pay for your highest tiered subscription. Twenty-five dollars a month just to jerk off to your exclusive content. Ah, men. 

Your fanbase has grown and grown, skyrocketing somewhat recently when you convinced Yeosang, your hot guy friend, to join you in one of your videos. He’d worn a face mask to protect his identity, but it had been so obvious that he’s attractive even with it on. The black tank top left little to the imagination as your audience watched the muscles in his arms flex as his strong hands fingered you over and over again while he talked you through each orgasm. It was a rather simple video, with no actual sex. Regardless, that became one of your most viewed videos even though it was an exclusive, and the video that ended up paying for this apartment. Men and women alike scrambled to type in their credit card information to see it, boosting not only your ego, but your bank account as well. You gave Yeosang a decent sized chunk of your earnings, seeing as he was in the video too.  

His whole face had turned red when you showed him the number of views, hiding behind his hands for good measure. He’s always been shy, it was a damn miracle you even got him to do it in the first place. 

Since then, you’ve been living quite comfortably. Yeosang, too. Despite your efforts to convince him to create his own account for people to subscribe to, he’s maintained his ‘innocence’. However, recently he’s been asking you more and more about the details and dynamics of running an account like yours. You’re almost afraid to jinx it, like if you ask him outright if he’s thinking about it, he’ll forget the whole thing and never do it. Who are you to potentially accidentally deny the general paying population of your hot friend? 

He may become even more popular than me, you think to yourself, a small smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. 

You glance at your laptop, its camera trained at a specific angle towards your empty bed, and you peek at how many people are waiting for your livestream to start. Friday nights are always good to pull in larger crowds, and tonight is no different. 

Nine hundred, and climbing. 

Whoa.

You let out a low whistle at the number, the highest you’ve ever seen it just for the amount of people waiting. You’re not even due to start for another ten minutes. The number shifts around a couple times, losing some, and gaining more every minute. For the first time in a while, you start to feel a little self-conscious. This newfound fame is still just that: new. Even though you can’t see the audience you’ve gathered, you still feel that there are nine hundred pairs of eyes on you in your bedroom. There’s a nervous flutter in your chest that you can’t seem to shake off in the dwindling minutes before your stream begins. 

With only two minutes left, you flit around your room, double checking how you look in your mirror, fixing your hair and makeup, and adjusting one of the straps to the lingerie you picked out for the evening. You sit prettily on the bed, taking a few moments before you start to center yourself, taking deep breaths and focusing on getting your head clear for tonight’s performance. 

A ‘performance’ is basically all it is.   

Your fingers hover over the trackpad of your laptop, counting down the seconds until there are none left, and you click “Go Live”. 

As usual, you allow about ten seconds to go by, waiting for more to join once they get the notification that the stream has started. You read the sudden influx of chat, smiling when you see familiar usernames and knowing that rent will be covered for the next couple of months, just by their presence here. If you wanted something, all you had to do was ask for it. Someone in the chat will gladly donate however much you need – and then some – just for the chance to hear you read their username and thank them in your sweet voice. 

So easy.  

You saturate your greeting with honey, looking up into the laptop camera, eyes round and innocent. 

“Hi, everyone,” you sing, giggling for all of the people vying for your attention. Each comment is sent with the hope that you’ll read it out. Some send tips already, small amounts mostly in the single digits, but there are a couple of doubles sent your way already. The tip counter in the upper corner of the screen increases steadily with each donation as they come. Compliments, questions, requests, and general niceties move up the screen in a constant staccato, making room for the next. 

You lean back on your hands, pretending that you don’t know what you’re doing with this angle. The camera is angled down, providing an almost perfect POV shot for the audience. The fantasy begins immediately. You uncross your legs, feigning shyness. 

“My day was okay, thank you,” you purr, knowing you just made someone nearly cream their pants by answering their question. “But… I’ve just been so lonely.” 

You pout, right on cue to accompany your words. Instantly, the comment section floods with volunteers to cure you of your loneliness. Each one promises they can fix it, that they’ll be there for you, that they’ll never leave. It’s flattering, but none of them really mean it. Maybe they think they do, but again none of them really know you. You doubt most of them want to get to the very root of you and figure you out. No, most if not all just want to get into your pants to say that they have. Bragging rights. 

[user75846] will yeo be joining you?

You read the comment aloud, shaking your head in quiet defeat. “No, it’s just me tonight.” 

Some comments beg for his return, others are happy that it’s just you – the jealous types – and the rest are simply impatient to see your body. Your hand trails across the hem of your flimsy, sheer tank top you chose to wear for the evening. It leaves little to the imagination. The quiet pinging of more money being donated motivates you further. You sigh, looking up into the camera again. 

“I’ve been so sad and lonely all day… you guys will help me, right?” 

You pull your shirt down just a little more, showcasing your cleavage while keeping your face as innocent as possible. The comments spike again, but you don’t pay attention to them anymore. Your hand travels farther up to your mouth, fingers threatening to slip between your glossy lips. Twelve hundred people watch and wait. You hum, parting your lips slightly but not quite giving them the visual they want. Not yet. There’s no rush – not for you, at least. But one comment catches your eye because of its impatience.   

[mntn3000]: start.

Very blunt. You don’t recognize the username as one of your regulars or subscribers. Whoever this is must be new. You’ve run and maintained a rather strict program with your subscribers when it comes to what they say in the live chat – politeness being one of the main rules. The lack of a ‘please’ to sweeten the demand nearly twists your face into something less angelic. Maybe whoever this user is is already close, unable to finish his sentence before he finishes himself. You bet once you take your shirt off he’ll blow his load and leave. It happens. For now, you’ll have fun with him. Teach this newcomer some manners. 

You dip your fingers in, tongue peeking out to greet them into your mouth. The amount of comments slows just a little, silently telling you that some of your viewers are beginning to work themselves up along with you. 

“Oh dear… ‘mntn3000’ just said ‘start’. No ‘please’? Will someone let him know how this works?” You keep your voice sugary, making sure everyone knows you aren’t hurt or being stuck-up, but that you’re rather amused at the comment. 

Almost immediately, upon request, you see one of your regulars tag the newcomer in a message explaining the chat rules. 

“Thank you, Woo,” you hum, lifting your shirt up even more, just for him, to show your gratitude. Your hand lingers near your breast, a small shudder running through your body as you graze your nipple. 

‘Woo’, your nickname for him from his username, has become somewhat of an anonymous friend to you. He’s subscribed to your highest level tier and the VIP extras that you offer, including private shows and a group chat on Discord. He’s always the first to step in if someone says something out of line or disrespectful in any way. Your own personal guard dog. 

Whoever he is, ‘mntn3000’ doesn’t say anything to Woo’s message. 

Fourteen hundred people now. 

You hum again, resisting the urge to squeeze your thighs together. You love the attention. And after doing a rough estimate in your head how much money you’ll make tonight, it just makes you want to put on an even better show. 

“If you want something…” you purr, taking your shirt off completely. The comments erupt. “Ask nicely~” you tease, giggling to yourself.

A donation pops up immediately, the sum of which nearly makes you gape.   

[mntn3000] has donated $500 

Well… that’s certainly nice. 

[mntn3000]: start, kitten

That’ll do it. 

You’re quick to control your reaction to the generous donation. However, now you can’t help but feel like you’re performing under pressure. Some of your other patrons comment on it, but you’re on autopilot now. 

One more deep breath in and your tight little shorts soon join your shirt on the floor. 

You exhale audibly, turning the breath into a quiet moan as your hand continues to explore your own body. This time, you don’t tease when your fingers come back up to your mouth, accepting them immediately. Your free hand finds its way to your neglected chest, kneading the warm skin. It’s easy to pretend that the touch belongs to someone else’s manipulation. 

It’s more than just a little confusing for you to immediately imagine it’s Yeosang, if not friendship-wise. The two of you have mutually agreed that you’re platonic. The collaboration was just… a friend helping a friend. Moreso than the views and money you earned from it, you’re thankful that there is no awkwardness between you two in the aftermath of it. When you had switched the camera off, he had even joked about graduating to another level of friendship, or something like that. You can’t remember exactly right now, you’re a bit preoccupied. 

You pry your eyes open to read the chat, wanting to know if they’re enjoying the view so far. 

[user92834]: i keep expecting yeo to show up ㅠㅠ  i miss him

You whine, only able to nod once or twice. “I miss Yeo, too.” 

Now you’re playing with fire. Multiple people in the chat remind you of their personal favorite parts of that video, giving you a much needed visual to get yourself off. Is it wrong? To use memories of your best friend ‘platonically’ overstimulating you for the better part of an hour? Maybe. You think you just need to get laid soon. Admittedly, it’s been rather long since you have been. Longer than most of your viewers will ever believe.  

“I wish someone was here to help me,” you blink slowly into the camera, pouting again. 

Your artificial patheticness is like a siren call to these men. It seems that every single one of your viewers suddenly comes alive, flooding the chat and your donations box all at once, each claiming that they should be the one to help you next time. That they have what it takes. 

Except one. 

You haven’t seen that ‘mntn3000’ guy’s username pop up since he sent the generous donation earlier. You wonder if he’s still watching. Maybe he’s embarrassed from earlier. 

Whatever. He’s more likely just another background viewer. You probably won’t hear from him again. 

Pushing the thought away, you start to finally trail your hand down your stomach to lightly circle your clit. Your hooded eyes flicker up to the screen, making sure everything’s in view. Satisfied with what you see, you resume touching yourself, continuing to loudly suck on your fingers for good measure. 

[user82392] has donated $5

[user01743] has donated $20

[puppyu.u] has donated $50

[mars9843] has donated $50 

[puppyu.u] has donated $100

You can’t help but smile, watching the silent competition between your viewers. Every time someone ups the amount they’re willing to drop on you, there’s dozens more who are willing to match it. You feel like you’re at auction. Who will win in the end? Usually, it’s one of your regulars, the ones with access to the private Discord, who come out on top. You’re betting on ‘puppyu.u’ tonight. He seems like he has something to prove. 

No one’s quite willing to match ‘mntn3000’’s five hundred dollar starting offer just yet. 

You get the feeling that everyone who regularly competes here silently agrees to just… ignore it. Everyone here spoils you, of course. But dropping five hundred dollars straight out the gate is a blatant power move that seems intent to undermine most of the others in here in one fell swoop. 

But he’s quiet now. Maybe he spent all he had in one go. It happens sometimes. Rarely, but sometimes. 

You’re not sure why you’re so hung up on this random user. You’re not used to being caught off guard like this. Closing your eyes so no one can see you roll them, you decide to not think about him anymore. 

And you have just the thing for it. 

While they spend money to achieve imagined dominance over the others in the chat, you reach just offscreen to grab your favorite dildo. It’s a fan-favorite as well. You scoot a little farther back on the bed, finally taking your fingers out of your mouth and replacing it with the head of the dildo. You sigh around it, like you’re content, grateful to have something in your mouth again. In reality, this is just so that it goes inside of you easier.   

This time, you don’t make them wait. 

The blunt head of the toy slips inside easily, and you fight to keep your head up so everyone can see your reaction to it. Halfway in, you give up. Head back, a visible shudder runs through your body that has the donation notifications ringing like crazy. Around this point in your little show, you’ll pay less and less attention to the chat, only focusing on the pleasure you’re creating for yourself. 

But this time, something’s off. 

No matter what you do, you can’t seem to find that specific angle that makes you cum. Not even playing with your clit seems to be any help. You try to relax, to see if maybe you’re too tense to feel anything, but it’s quite hard to relax when you’re this frustrated already. You’re not about to let the audience know that, but it’s discouraging. You don’t like to lie, but again, it’s all part of a performance. A fake, tailored show to sell a fantasy version of you. The one who always comes for whoever is watching, the one who is just so insatiable for each individual person watching.  

At one point, you obtain false hope. You hit an angle that nearly does it for you, getting you closer than you were before to that sweet edge. It’s so close you can almost taste it, quickening your pulse and electrifying every vein in your body. There’s an ache in your wrist that is starting to become strained and uncomfortable, and your eyebrows furrow together to try and maybe will an orgasm into existence. And yet the payoff evades you completely.  

You make a sharp, high-pitched noise out of frustration, which hopefully comes across as ecstacy instead. You’re not even enjoying it anymore, and your hand begins to slow down the pumps of the dildo as your fake moans increase again. There’s a trick you know to make your legs look like they’re realistically shaking from an orgasm – learned by ego-boosting one too many failed relationships and one night stands in the past – and you use it now. 

Ugh. 

The toy slips out of you, and you blearily toss it next to you on the bed. You let the audience watch the slowing rise and fall of your chest as your breaths even out. 

What the fuck was that? You think to yourself, tilting your head back to hide your look of confusion. You’re kind of nervous to look at what people are saying in the chat, worried that they somehow caught onto the fact that you faked it. Without any proof, you conjure up images of cancellation, accusations, name-calling, every possible and yet unrealistic bad thing that could potentially happen. 

Steeling yourself as best you can, you straighten and take a look at the chat. 

All worries melt away at once as soon as you notice the heart emojis that flood the comment section. You’re not sure when this started, nor do you know who began the trend, but it has turned into something similar to applause at the end of a stream. A cute signal that they enjoyed the show. You smile at the screen, even laughing a little from relief. Time and time again, you’re proven to be loved no matter what. 

There are a few more donations, although they’ve slowed down now that you’re done. You push your hair back, taking the time to slowly breathe in and out as you read the comments. Most of them tell you how hard you made them bust, which earns you a few more dollars. Still, there’s one username you’re stuck on that you’re not seeing. Not yet. You hope you’re not being obvious, waiting for it to reappear. Maybe with some manners and patience this time. Your eyes stay locked on the corner of the screen.

It’s after you blow a puff of air up towards your hair to move it out of your face that he reappears. Maybe your impatience was received loud and clear to him. 

He only sends one word. Four letters. 

[mntn3000]: cute 

[mntn3000] has donated $1000

[mntn3000] has left the stream

Huh. Your spinning head almost registers that. A good thing about streaming is that you’re not exactly on a time limit. You can take as much time as you need to to calm down and regroup before addressing your audience again. Most will leave during this time, and that’s alright too. Your devoted viewers will stay, still seeking out your attention, praise, and appreciation. You always thank them for watching and of course, donating. 

“There’s thousands of others you could have spent your time with tonight, so thank you for choosing me. I hope I made it worth it.” 

In the middle of catching your breath, you manage a small grin into the camera. With a whispered, ‘goodnight’, and a kiss blown straight to your audience, you end the live and flop backwards on your bed. Another job well done. Another year of rent earned. 

You force yourself to move after five minutes, showering, changing into new, comfier clothes and taking your makeup off in the bathroom until it’s just you in the mirror, and not the character. It’s not until you’re brushing your teeth that you realize how tired you are from that live, nearly drifting off with the toothbrush still in your mouth. Head about to hit the wall, you jerk back to stand upright and finish up quickly. You can practically hear your bed calling your name.   

A text from Yeosang lights up your phone, halfway buried underneath a pillow. You pull it out and stand by your bed to read it. 

[yeoyeo🌻]: another successful day at the office?

You can’t help but grin, burying yourself under the covers and texting him back quickly. 

[y/n🌸]: another small fortune 🥱

[yeoyeo🌻]: still wanna hang out tomorrow?

[yeoyeo🌻]: or is the princess too tired 

[y/n🌸]: stfu 😂

[y/n🌸]: yes pls i miss you :( 

[yeoyeo🌻]: fine fine 

[yeoyeo🌻]: i’ll be over at noon 

[yeoyeo🌻]: you better be awake -.- 

[y/n🌸]: goodnight pretty boy!

[yeoyeo🌻]: 🖕🏻

[yeoyeo🌻]: goodnight 

Exiting the messages app, you reach over to the nightstand and grab your laptop from its perch, keen on transferring your earnings into your bank account as soon as possible. Luckily, the site you use makes it rather easy, just a click of a button, but this time around, you take a second to look at the number in the corner. 

$14,601. 

You whistle lowly at the sight of it. Nearly fifteen thousand dollars for thirty minutes of ‘work’. If you spend and save wisely, you’ll never have to set foot in an office for as long as you live. 

Laptop set aside for the time being, you make a mental note to try and fit in some pilates tomorrow morning before Yeosang comes over. There are certain things you try to do to maintain your beauty and health, especially if the rewards look like this number. The sore muscles, cutting off sugar, and time spent trying to match your wing eyeliner are worth it. Almost… you do miss sugar quite a bit and are prone to cheat if tempted.  

You quickly do the math in the calculator app to see how exponentially your bank account is about to grow once the transfer is complete. The total makes you smile ear to ear. Already, you’re thinking of more ideas, ways to keep everyone interested… but also… maybe a vacation. A first class flight to anywhere in the world seems more than desirable. Maybe tomorrow you’ll ask Yeosang if he’d like to come too. The thought excites you, making you want to stay up and look at potential destinations. 

Closing out of the calculator and banking apps, you’re just about to go on TikTok to look through your ‘dream vacay’ folder, when a notification directs your eyes upward. It’s from your email, but it's no promotional message from one of the many stores you shop at, nor is it spam. 

The sender is simply ‘H.J Kim’, accompanied by three words in the subject line: ‘Exclusive Collaboration Offer’. 

That certainly piques your interest, although it could just be a scam. Since you don’t have an agent, you’ve learned the hard way how to filter out those who just wish to take your hard-earned – well… earned – money away from you. When you were just starting out, you had to change numerous passwords more than once. You’re on a first-name-basis with your bank. Usually, you ignore emails like this, but something draws you to it. In what you can see of the preview, the sender doesn’t use more words than he has to, and the word choice seems rather official. Not as scammy as you’re used to. 

Hesitant, but intrigued at what this offer could possibly entail, you click on it to see what the rest of the email says.

__________________________

Dear Miss Y/N, 

I hope you are doing well. My name is Kim Hongjoong and I am a Talent Agent with Afterdark Productions, representing Choi San. We have been admiring your work for a while now, and would love to extend an offer for a collaboration between the two of you. 

If accepted, I will be more than happy to disclose more information regarding the details of the shoot as well as beginning the process of arranging transportation and accommodation. Please feel free to reach out with any questions or concerns, and I will respond as quickly as I can. 

Thank you for your time and consideration. I look forward to the possibility of working together. 

Sincerely, 

Kim Hongjoong 

Talent Agent, Afterdark Productions

[email protected]  

__________________________

You sit up, suddenly needing more air. 

Choi San. 

Just his name makes your thighs clench together under the plush comforter.

You make a noise somewhere between an exhalation and a laugh of disbelief. You reread it a couple more times, making sure you’re reading it correctly. There’s simply no way someone like Choi San knows you exist, and if he does, then how? Sure, you’re gaining popularity on cam platforms, but you didn’t think the industry on the other side of the coin would take notice. Maybe you’ve just been naive. It’s essentially the same thing but without a script or team involved. You do everything yourself — the lights, the camera, the action. The idea of even attempting what ‘Afterdark’ is known for is quite daunting. The thought of potentially meeting San even more so. 

Everyone knows Choi San. 

Somewhat of a respected micro-celebrity, he is currently revolutionizing the stigma around adult videos and being an adult actor. Breaking stereotypes, barriers, and backs. Impressive. It also helps that he has adonis-like features and a smile that can universally melt hearts. Very helpful, indeed. 

It’s still not fully clicking that you’ve been offered a chance to work with him. Not yet. Most likely, it’ll hit you in the morning when you check your phone for the millionth time, making sure you didn’t just dream this all up in a post-orgasmic haze. Each time you reread it, the words stay the same. The name jumps out at you. 

“Fuckin’ hell…” you whisper, pressing your palm to your mouth, reading the email over just one more time. That’s what you tell yourself anyway. 

A collaboration… you assume that means on his turf. On his side of the industry, anyway. Your mouth dries. Are you even up for this? 

A visual learner all your life, you find yourself opening a private browser and looking up a porn site you know has posted a couple of San’s videos. For research. Literally. Your thought process is to refresh your memory, imagine yourself in the actress’ place and discern whether or not you think you can handle what this offer entails. You pick the very first result after you enter his name in the search box, and settle back against your pillows, nervously biting your nails as the video begins. 

It starts off like many others of its kind, a flashy montage of what’s to come – pun unfortunately intended – to entice viewers to keep watching. You skip ahead, like many do, not caring for whatever ‘plot’ has been thrown together to justify why these two hot people are sleeping together this time. Although, from the clips you do see as the video jumps ahead, inching closer to the real action, you have to admit he’s a decent actor. You stop skipping through it towards the end of their conversation, landing at the proposition and steadily rising scripted passion. 

San steps closer to the actress, really getting into her space, and holding eye contact the whole time. The type that would make any girl melt. It’s not fiery or intimidating, no, it’s something much worse. 

Desire. 

He mumbles something under his breath that you don’t catch, too focused on how his hands wrap around her waist, pulling her in closer. What startles you is how… almost vulnerable he looks. Attentive. His head tilted down slightly, looking at her through his eyelashes, enchanting her so effortlessly as his hands gently wander. You cross an arm over your chest, eyes still fixated on the phone screen. You’re getting affected this much just watching him look at her like that? How the hell will you possibly be able to handle it in real life? The short answer is: you probably won’t. 

Because the next time you skip, impatience gnawing at you to just see and know what he does, you’re thrown right into the fray. 

The camera is almost cinematic, capturing precise angles where everything can be seen, the lighting low and sensual. They’re on a large bed, and San has taken the time to place one of the pillows under her head as well as her hips. A blindfold covers the actress’ eyes, but you can tell right away she’s been steadily crying through the fabric. Her hands tighten in his hair, his mouth latches onto one of her breasts, and his hand between her legs where quiet, constant, wet sounds are being drawn from. Still, he looks earnest. Genuine. Like he cares about her pleasure, and wants to make sure she’s getting just as much out of this experience as he will. At this point, you’re sure the script is thrown out the window, because the way he talks to her, so soft and sincere, praising her closer and closer to the edge, is something that no scriptwriter could come up with. No, this was pure San. 

When she’s close, she tells him immediately and he changes nothing. He whispers the same praises, keeps his hand at the same pace and angle, reaching deep and curling up over and over, coaxing her body to release. The automated subtitles are no help, so you turn the volume up just a bit more, so you can hear him clearly. He must’ve been edging her because she starts begging him, trying to not pull his hair out at the roots. He simply covers her mouth with a free hand and leans over her, giving her permission to let go for him. 

She shudders violently, thighs pressing into the sides of his body to prevent him from moving. He's not going anywhere, though. That infamous dimpled smile appears as he watches her come undone beneath him. 

Your thighs clench. That’d be you. 

His voice drifts languidly from your laptop speakers, melting your brain even further. “Yes, baby, that’s it. There you go… such a good girl.” 

A girlish squeal gets stuck in your throat and you press your lips together to ensure you don’t let it out. You haven’t even said yes yet. There could be conditions you don’t agree with, payment arguments. He could be an asshole for all you know. Or this could all be a very elaborate and convincing scam. 

Still, just in case it is real, and for the sake of ‘research’, you keep watching. 

He kisses her chest, slowly making his way up her throat, her jaw, until he reaches her lips. He takes his sweet time, like he knows no one would dare look away. She sighs into his mouth, quiet whimpers leaving her every so often while he gently rubs her clit, just enough to keep her stimulated as she gets used to the feeling of being empty once again. You wonder what it’s like to kiss him. Your hands itch to reach for your phone and text Yeosang to tell him everything, however, you’re rather busy holding them still at the moment.  

You appreciate how he doesn’t move onto the next thing immediately. Too many times have you seen other actors in his industry not giving their partner a bit of a breather after such an intense orgasm. Granted, some may like that, the overwhelming and constant stimulation, but the way San allows her to take her time, silently encourages her to follow the deeper rhythm of his breathing, and how he holds her hand and places slow, soft kisses all over her body, it all adds up to make you crave a slower pace. An intimate interaction like this. 

San checks in with her quietly, and with a nod from her and another peck on the lips, he’s positioning himself between her legs. Stars in her eyes, she reaches down and strokes his length, whimpering softly. He gently brushes her hair back, admiring the look of nervous anticipation on her face. When he finally pushes inside, the two of them moan at the same time. Buried the way in, he smiles down at her before kissing her deeply. All dimples. A broken moan of his name tumbles from her lips, and you’re almost sure she didn’t realize she even said anything. She’s staring up at him like he’s a deity. Like he’s come down from heaven just for her. And she’s not acting. 

One thing you know for sure: you’d be stupid to decline the offer. 

You consider your mind made up. 

Reluctantly exiting the video, saving it for later, you reopen your email app. Part of you wonders whether or not two in the morning is an appropriate time to email someone, but another part of you simply doesn’t care. It’ll be in Mr. Kim Hongjoong’s inbox first thing when he wakes up tomorrow. Your reply is enthusiastic yet professional, expressing appreciation for the offer in the first place. You thank him and San for taking notice of you and offer praise of his work as well. Wrapping up with the same politeness the original sender used, you sign off with your name. Your fingers hover over the keyboard for a minute before adding a kiss emoji to the side of your name. Before you can second guess that choice, you send it off. 

Needing to expel some of these nerves, you get up out of bed to scavenge your fridge for a well-past-midnight snack. Maybe yogurt or something. Standing in the white light of the fridge, you realize food may not be the best choice. Nothing jumps out at you to want at two o’clock in the morning, stomach already doing flips and tricks as it is. You settle on a mini carton of strawberry milk that you may or may not finish and walk back to bed a little too fast. Quicker than your usual leisurely pace. 

You glance at your phone, laying face down on your bed like what you just watched on it made it shy. You want to text Yeosang so badly, to get his take on all of this, but you should let him sleep. Just because your sleep schedule is fucked doesn’t mean you have to ruin his as well. Your fingers absentmindedly tap the carton, only two sips deep in your drink. Hm. 

You’re just starting to flirt with the idea of calling Yeosang anyway when you get a notification that effectively snaps you out of your thought spiral. Whoever or whatever it is has just unknowingly saved Yeosang’s REM cycle. 

Not expecting a response so soon, your eyes widen a bit when you see that you’ve gotten a response back already. The quickness makes you a little wary. Scams usually are quick to respond back too. 

Or, this ‘Hongjoong’ guy may have a sleep schedule quite like yours. After all, you responded rather quickly to his first email. 

__________________________

Hi Miss Y/N, 

Thank you for getting back to me so quickly. We are thrilled to hear that you are accepting the offer. 

The next steps in moving forward are rather simple. I will ask you to fill out a form – which I have linked to this e-mail – and send that at your earliest convenience. It is your basic questionnaire, really, and a chance for us to get to know you as well as your preferences for the shoot and scene. 

 After you have sent that and we go over it, I would like to meet with you – either in person or through video call – for both our safety and to finalize all arrangements. If you choose to meet in person, I will gladly bring along a female member of my team in an effort to make you feel more comfortable and safe.  

As always, please feel free to reach out if you have any questions, comments, or concerns. Looking forward to hearing from you again. 

-Kim Hongjoong 

Talent Agent, Afterdark Productions

[email protected]  

| Attachment: 1 File

__________________________

‘We’, he wrote. 

‘We are thrilled to hear that you are accepting the offer.’ 

At first, you assumed he was just referencing the production company, but the specific use of it catches and holds your attention. Did San… ask for this collab to happen? Scrolling up to reread it again, the second line of the first e-mail you were sent strikes you: ‘We have been admiring your work for a while now…’ Not just the company. ‘We’ as in… 

You swallow hard, setting the strawberry milk on your nightstand and shrinking back against your pillows again. Your phone burns your eyes in the dark, but you can’t stop reading this new message. There’s so much to unpack, even though it’s so straightforward. As of right now, in regards to meeting with Kim Hongjoong, you’re leaning towards just a video call. You’re still not quite totally convinced this isn’t an elaborate prank of some kind. Maybe a weird fan who wants this to happen but there’s no truth to it. But again… you don’t get that vibe. Not from how professional this seems. And a crazy fan wouldn’t offer to bring along another woman to make you feel more comfortable, he’d insist on meeting alone, under the guise of ‘protecting our privacy’. 

And if it is real… then it is really happening. Moving forward, as the talent agent said, a collaboration in the early stages of planning. With Choi San. 

Dammit, Yeosang, why can’t you be awake right now, you think and you huff dramatically, burying your face in your hands. He’ll certainly get an earful of all of this tomorrow afternoon.   

But you decide you need to talk this through to somebody right now. Or some people. 

Even though you just went live, you’re quick to open your Discord app, not even bothering to send a warning message to tell your exclusive members that you’re going live again. This time, just for them. You know they’ll come. They always do. 

Once you have your laptop adjusted and headphones on, you’re ready to go. You click the microphone button and wait.  

As expected, four of them join immediately. You regularly wonder how they’re all able to drop everything to watch you, no matter what time you go live. Two others join soon after, but they rarely comment in the chat. Silent viewers with open wallets are never unwelcome here. 

“Hi guys! I have big news,” you smile into the camera, reading all the messages as they pop up. 

[woogoesthere]: tell ussssssss!!!!!

[fix0nmi]: 👀?

[mars9843]: what is it cutie?

[puppyu.u]: hi baby why the secret meeting?? 👀

You take a minute to let them get all their guesses out, increasing their desperation to know what you’re hiding from them. Hopefully they’ll take the news well. As far as you can tell, none of them specifically come across as the parasocial jealous type, but you don’t know for certain. However, they seemed to handle your previous collab with Yeosang pretty well. That gives you some more confidence to confide in them about this. 

“I’ve been offered to do a collab with someone from…” You pause before saying the company name for dramatic effect. “Afterdark.”

You’re a little surprised by the lack of comments right away, even worried a little. The thought of them being the parasocial jealous type crosses your mind again. Especially Woo. For a split second, you worry that you may have just angered your most loyal – and charitable – fans. The abrupt absence makes your heart plummet to your stomach. 

It takes a full minute before anyone says anything. The longest minute of your whole life. 

[woogoesthere]: are u telling us ur collabing w choi san?!!??!?!?! :0

Leave it to Woo to ease any worry you may have. You mask your relieved exhale under a light laugh. 

“Should I be worried?” you half joke. 

The immediate responses in the comments are overwhelming and collective:

[puppyu.u]: yes!!!!!! 

[mars9843]: be afraid, be very afraid 

[fix0nmi]: he’s gonna wreck you lmao 

[fix0nmi]: icw to watch 🤪

[puppyu.u]: same 😭😏😭

[mars9843]: if you could barely handle yeo………

Your confident smile fades slightly, the corners of your mouth dropping back down as you read the multiple comments confirming what you’ve been wondering. 

[woogoesthere]: guys stop ur gonna scare her ㅠㅠ

You try to laugh it off, looking off camera to grab your strawberry milk again. The action gives your hands something to do as worry begins to settle in your chest. Of course, Woo tries to ease your growing anxieties in the chat as you lift the bottle to your lips, eyes still scanning the messages… or rather, the warnings. 

[puppyu.u]: well it’s true 

[woogoesthere]: we should be encouraging tho >:( 

[fix0nmi]: yeah or else she won’t do it 👀

[mars9843]: … 

[mars9843]: y/n we’re just kiddinggggg

[fix0nmi]: you’ll be fine~! >:) 

[woogoesthere]: -.- 

[puppyu.u]: drink lots of water beforehand! 

[woogoesthere]: you pervs are so annoying

“I can do it!” You try to regain your previous confidence. 

A shroud of doubt begins to creep up over your shoulders, weighing you down. You’re able to hide it well, but you go quiet. Quieter than usual when you’re live. You don’t like silences that last too long. Unfortunately, your sudden silence is noticeable. 

[puppyu.u]: babyyyyyy 

[puppyu.u]: don’t listen to us we’re just teasing 

[fix0nmi]: haha sorry baby

[mars9843]: you’re gonna be great, pretty girl 

[fix0nmi]: can’t wait to see it ;) 

[woogoesthere]: you ARE gonna be great

[woogoesthere]: choi san has no idea what an honor this is fr ㅠㅠ

That last message brings your smile back, tugging at the corners of your mouth until you give into it. ‘Woo’ is right. You have to remember who the fuck you are. Choi San sought you out specifically. There’s no need to be nervous about anything. It’s a different side of an industry that you’re already accustomed to, that’s all. You just have to adapt to however it operates for one day, and if you hate it, you’ll never have to do it again. And hey, you’ll get to say you’ve had that first and only experience with San of all people. 

What a debut. 

Your loyal fans must notice the confidence boost you’re experiencing because they’re quick to praise it in the chat. 

[fix0nmi]: there she is :) 

[woogoesthere]: ugh ur too cute 

[puppyu.u]: fr that bastard has no idea how lucky he is ㅠㅠ

[mars9843]: he better be nice to u >:( 

“Aww, you guys are so sweet,” you giggle softly, enjoying their attention and their praises. Your nerves are somewhat settled for the time being, though you can’t promise they won’t return once you open your eyes tomorrow morning. You wonder what Yeosang will say about it. 

Leaning back against your headboard, you exhale deeply – maybe even adding a little hint of a whine-like noise to keep them entertained. ‘Pervs’, as ‘Woo’ put it, indeed. Not that you minded. 

You hum to yourself and mention how much better they’ve made your night, and they eat it up. 

“Thank you all for your love and support. Truly.”    

You talk with them for a while longer, reciprocating their interest in you by asking them about their days and what they’re doing tomorrow. One of the silent viewers goes offline, and you can’t say that you blame them – no one should still be awake at this hour. You’re not sure if you’ll fall asleep quickly after you log off, so maybe that’s why you linger here and continue to talk with them. The minutes continue to go by and you start to feel guilty for keeping them all up this late. You know it’s their choice to stay and talk, but still. Odds are that at least one of them has to be up early tomorrow morning. They won’t leave until you do. 

“I’m gonna go to bed, guys. Thank you for staying up and chatting with me.” You smile, watching all of their usernames simultaneously start typing again. 

[mars9843]: goodnight cutie

[fix0nmi]: night babe ;)

[woogoesthere]: aww have a good night jagi <333 

[puppyu.u]: sweet dreams baby <3

[puppyu.u]: <3333

You giggle, noticing ‘puppyu.u’’s competitiveness. Before ‘Woo’ can start a war to see how many 3’s they can add to their hearts, you quickly blow them all a kiss and end the call. 

The silence of your apartment comes back quickly. Naturally, so do your racing thoughts. You place your laptop on your nightstand and crawl back under the covers, hoping against hope that you can smother your thoughts with your pillow. 

Your phone vibrates against your thigh and you sneak a quick glance at it, half-expecting another e-mail, only to find a Venmo notification. It’s from Woo. Your exclusive members have the username of your ‘business’ Venmo account to send you money outside of cams, if they choose to. The message he attaches to the money makes you laugh: ‘i’m not losing to puppyu.u so easily. goodnight<333333333333’ 

Oh, man. 

Make that $14,751 now. 

You wince as you notice the time in the upper lefthand corner of your phone screen. Yeosang was very clear in his text: you better be awake by noon. Knowing how late you usually sleep until, it’s not looking good. Hoping it will help, you set several alarms on your phone. Surely one of them will wake you up. You switch your phone off, refusing to check it again until tomorrow morning. 

Without your phone to distract you though, all you do is replay that video you watched of San and that actress. The memory of it projects against your eyelids and you can’t look away. A shiver runs through you when you picture how his hands held her with such gentle strength, and the addictive moans he wasn’t afraid to let out. The same thought echoes until you finally fall asleep: that’ll be you.  

· · ─────── ·☆· ─────── · ·

Against all odds, and seven missed alarms later, you manage to wake up – albeit, exhausted – around ten o’clock. Plenty of time before Yeosang is due to come over. 

After you eat breakfast, you decide to spend the morning researching San, watching more of his videos, listening to interviews, stalking his Instagram, anything you can find to get to know him better. Or at least, to get a better grasp on what you should expect. Hongjoong never clarified if it was going to be just you and him at this future meeting or you, him, and San. You want to be ready. 

From what you can find, you’ve come to the tentative conclusion that he appears smart, funny, well-traveled, and handsome. That last one is a given to anyone with eyes, though. It seems like he could’ve succeeded in any field of his choosing, but his candor is notoriously present and blunt whenever he gets asked why he’s gone into this profession: “I like sex. I happen to be good at it, so why not?” 

You get it. Easy money. 

His Instagram is mostly pictures of him in exotic locations. It seems you and him have dream destinations in mind for the future as well. Nine million followers strong – and counting – he has his comments turned off to them on every post. There is also no message option anywhere. He completely cuts himself off from being accessible. A part of you is a little jealous, but at the same time you like the closeness with your fans. It feels more intimate, it gives you a reason to be punctual and come back and care about what you do. Although some, like that ‘mntn3000’ guy, can sometimes be quite rude in the chat. You have your chat open to all, and your public Instagram is the complete opposite of San’s. Thirst traps, a highlight on your profile for song recommendations, and the ability to comment and message you. Not that you answer most of them. Most are gross, obnoxious, frankly misogynistic men who choose the most unhinged, disgusting words to express their… ‘desires’. You’re thankful for Woo and fans like him. Still… you find yourself wondering if you should limit your accessibility as well. Your popularity is rising. Maybe now is the time. 

You still find yourself looking for everything and anything that has to do with him online. Everyone wants to be him or be with him. One of those guys. Of course. 

You rest your head in your hands, groaning to no one in particular. After all the women he’s been with, you hope you can meet his expectations. A worthy costar. Same industry, different department. 

By the time Yeosang knocks on your door at a quarter past noon, your mind is so far away he has to call you to let him in. 

“Hey, sorry.” You apologize, ushering him in and locking the door behind him. 

“I knew you wouldn’t be awake,” he grins, making himself right at home on your couch. “Is going live for thirty minutes really all it takes to make you catatonic the rest of the day?” 

You roll your eyes, swatting his shoulder as you sit down next to him. “Shut up, it’s not because of that. Well… not exactly.” 

Yeosang quirks an eyebrow, intrigued. “Go on, then. What’s up?” 

You pull out your phone, ready to show him the evidence to back up what you’re about to say. The original email is still unchanged as you glance down at it, which is encouraging. Another reminder that you didn’t make this all up in your head. It didn’t happen in a dream, there’s hard evidence staring you in the face. 

Well, now or never. Out with it. 

“I, um… I got an offer to work with Choi San.” Your voice toes the line between excitement and cautious optimism. If anyone’s opinion matters to you at all, it’s Yeosang’s. 

Yeosang’s eyebrows raise at the name. “Like… the Choi San?”

“The Choi San, yes.” You nod, confirming it’s exactly who he’s thinking about. 

Handing your phone over to him, email ready to be read by a fresh pair of eyes, you watch his reactions closely. You find yourself biting the side of your thumb nail, a habit you keep thinking you’ve grown out of, only to be proven wrong in times like these. 

Yeosang’s face is serious as he reads it. You can tell he’s searching for any indication of this being a scam first and foremost before he digests the rest of it. Finding no blatant or well-hidden tricks, he pays more attention to the general message.       

“Are you gonna do it?” He asks, handing your phone back to you. His voice holds some reservation to it that you clearly pick up on. You take no offense, though. He’s just worried about you. It’s more… public than you’re used to. 

“I don’t know,” you shrug, answering him honestly. “I’ve done my research on him and already sent them an email back saying that I was interested and wanted to know more, but… do you think I should?”

You truly value his opinion. Yeosang has been such a good friend to you for the past couple of years. The two of you had met in your second year of college and became fast friends. When you moved to the city, about a year after he did, he helped you find your first apartment, got you a job, and checked in on you to make sure you knew you had a friend here. He made everything easier. He still does.  

Yeosang shrugs, “Doesn’t matter what I think. If you feel confident about doing it, then go for it. If something is telling you to not do it, then don’t.”

He makes it sound so easy. Should it be? 

“Yeah, but… I value your opinion.” You mumble, not outwardly saying what you’re thinking. But he reads your mind anyway. 

“Y/N, it’s not gonna change my view of you if you decide to do this. If I had a problem with my best friend being a mattress actress, I would’ve told you a long time ago. Y’know… before I collabed with you.” 

At this, you can’t help but laugh, knowing he’s right. A pressure you didn’t realize was weighing on you is alleviated off your shoulders, making you feel lighter. He grins as you let out a small sigh of relief, glad that he eased some of your worries. Now, to tease you about it. As best friends do. 

“I’m just worried that you won’t survive the experience,” Yeosang says dramatically, covering his eyes with his arm and sneaking a smile your way. 

“Stop, what do you mean?” You push him, playfully. 

“You said you researched him, right?” 

You nod, wondering where he’s going with this. Is there something you’ve missed? You feel like you’re the only one left out of a well-known inside joke. You try to think back to the videos you’ve seen of him. Sure, you haven’t watched his whole filmography, but nevertheless, you’d like to believe you know roughly what to expect of him when the day comes. 

“Did you watch the ones he’s done for ‘Fantasy’?” Yeosang smirks. 

You blink, trying to remember if you did. To be totally honest, you weren’t really paying much attention to which company was posting the videos. Just that San was in them. 

“I don’t know… maybe?” 

Yeosang shakes his head, already seeming to know the answer. “You’d know if you did,” he says definitively. “If you wanna know what he’s really capable of, watch some of those.” 

You stop yourself from rolling your eyes, frustrated that no one will just tell you what they’re talking about. You only have one guess, that it may be due to the fact that you’ve only ever been with two guys before. They each taught you the basics, but everything you bring to your livestreams, you learned all on your own. And it’s not like you’re clueless when it comes to the different kinds of sexual encounters one can experience. You’ve watched porn before – hell, you do a type of it for a living. So why does everyone keep underestimating you? What does San possibly do to make everyone think you won’t survive him? 

A part of you kind of doesn’t want to know. You don’t need to give your creeping self-doubt any more ammo. It had taken you a long time to beat it far back enough in your mind for it to not invade every time you hit a little snag in life. A resurgence would make you question everything, make you back out of this quickly. You don’t want that. No, you’re determined even more so now to see this through. To prove everyone wrong. More importantly, though, to prove it to yourself. 

“Sounds like he sought you out though,” Yeosang says. His words almost make you jolt. Not only do they pull you out of another spiral, it reinforces something you were thinking in passing last night. Maybe you aren’t reading too much into it after all. “Kinda seems like this Hongjoong guy and San are fans of yours.” 

You hide your face in your hands and groan, making Yeosang laugh at your rare display of shyness. It’s frustratingly unclear to you why the idea of him watching your content makes your cheeks burn so much. You’re obviously comfortable with people seeing your body and earning a profit from it, but you like the anonymity of the people watching. You simply don’t want to know. Perhaps it’s because he’s about to not be a faceless viewer anymore. Rather, a colleague of sorts. 

Also, in a way, you tend to view cam’ing as more… intimate than porn. The sole focus of the audience is on you. No fake plot, no costar, no distractions. Just you, reading the chat, and existing and getting off in real time. 

“Sounds like it,” you agree. “I must’ve done something he likes to pique his interest.” 

Yeosang shrugs, a playful grin tugging at his lips. “Or he saw the collab and this is all just an elaborate ruse to get to me.” 

You’re grateful to relax enough to laugh again. “Oh, I bet.” You say, playing along. Though, part of you does wonder for a brief moment if San had watched the collab and that’s why he thought you’d be a good partner for his next project. It’s definitely plausible.    

“So,” Yeosang leans back against the couch, crossing his legs, “what do you have to do now?” 

Remembering the phone in your hand, you look down at it, visualizing that attachment Hongjoong sent you. Yet to be opened. “There’s a form I have to fill out, I think it’s some kind of consent form.” 

He nods, “Yeah, that’d make sense.” 

There’s a small silence between you that follows as he watches you stare down at your phone. You have the most recent email pulled up, analyzing it again. He watches you bite the inside of your cheek, a habit you have that comes up when you’re thinking a little too hard about something.  

“Do you want me to go through it with you?” He asks, though he thinks he knows what you’ll say. 

“No, I’ll do it myself. It’s gonna ask like… in depth questions,” you insinuate, almost shyly. 

Yeosang doesn’t press you on it, which you appreciate. But you know he’s probably thinking there’s not much he doesn’t know about you. After all, he was fingering you to high heaven in front of a camera only a week ago. Still, he doesn’t push your privacy or your boundaries. It’s one of the many things that makes you feel safe with him. 

Breezing past the subject, knowing you probably need to relieve some stress, he picks up one of the gaming controllers on your coffee table. 

“Rematch?” He asks, referring to a game of Mario Kart fairly won by you, though his opinion of the event is rather different. Something to do with you ‘innocently’ bumping into him, causing him to almost drop his controller, and giving you the lead in the race. His win streak is much cleaner than yours. 

“You’re on,” you agree, playfully narrowing your eyes at him as he scoots away from you on the couch. 

There’ll be no ‘accidents’ this time. But maybe you’ll think of something.  

· · ─────── ·☆· ─────── · ·

The rest of the day is light. 

Little by little, the weight of uncertainty you feel fades into the background, instead transforming into unserious frustration as Yeosang beats you in Mario Kart six times in a row. You win the seventh round, but you highly suspect he let you. He had several speed boosts and red shells that would just disappear from his screen the next time you looked, wondering when he would fire one of those shells at you. 

You order in, opting to stay inside and just be lazy today, and the two of you eat on the couch. When the sun eventually starts to set late in the afternoon, he takes a nap while you scroll on your phone, half-watching a K-Drama on your TV. Neither of you bring up San or the form still laying in wait in your inbox again. He wakes up around eight o’clock, yawning and stretching as he gets up to go home – he mentions that he promised his friend he’d go out with him tonight. Though he extends the offer, and part of you does want to go, you decide to be responsible and take the night to go through the form with a somewhat clearer mind than last night or this morning.   

Almost as soon as Yeosang leaves, you’re back in bed and pulling everything up on your laptop. The attached file on the most recent email takes just a second to load, bringing you to a Google Form sheet, ready to be completed. 

But first, you think about what he said about San. You want to know what everyone else already seems to. At least one video. Just for research purposes again. 

In another tab on incognito mode, you hesitantly type in the search for ‘choi san redfantasy’ and bite the inside of your cheek as the page loads. The typical ads pop up before you’re able to see any actual content, avoiding the scams and viruses with practiced ease. Trying to not overthink it, you just click on the first video that comes up. In fact, you barely look at the title. It’s in all caps, a bunch of buzzwords and tags jammed together to get as many eyes on it as possible, but his name is always put first. That’s the seller right there. Audiences are in the market for Choi San. 

There is no plot this time, at least none that you can discern. The lighting is darker, as well as the mood. There’s less build up, the action begins almost straight away after the company logo screen fades away. 

Your chest constricts at the very first shot. A rather pretty woman, on her knees in the middle of a room. Her bare knees dig into the plush carpet beneath her and she looks up at the man in front of her, tilting her head up with a firm hand in her hair. 

San. 

“...didn’t you?” You barely hear him say to her, and you quickly turn up the volume on your laptop, rewinding the video ten seconds to hear the full question. 

“You misbehaved today, didn't you?” He purrs, nodding once to give her permission to speak. 

“Yes, sir.” She replies, obediently. 

The hand in her hair is taken away, and yet she never takes her eyes off of him. You imagine that’s probably what she was instructed to do… but you’re starting to think a director wasn’t involved in this. Everything seems more intimate, less corporate. Like San just set up a camera in this expensive looking hotel room. A step above amateur porn. 

San stalks around her, humming to himself as if sizing her up. The camera cuts to a slightly different angle, farther away, and you only just now realize that her hands are tied behind her back. The multiple static angles all but confirm your theory: everything in this video is by San’s design. 

He then sits down on a rather large, black leather couch, facing her. The camera caresses his features, letting you see every detail of the tailored suit he’s wearing that fits him perfectly. The suit itself is probably more expensive than five of those couches. Wordlessly, he beckons her closer with two of his fingers. He almost looks bored. But you think bored is the wrong word… curious actually. Like he’s just taking his time, waiting for her to act first. His tempo is carefully curated and well-calculated. He reacts, even though he knows they’re both just enacting what this company wants to see. Like this isn’t just for the cameras. Every scene is serious to him, and yet it doesn’t come across as corny or too much. You wonder why he doesn’t go into acting. He seems more than able to convince people of real chemistry between himself and his co-star each and every time. And with a face card like his, you doubt he would’ve had many rejections. 

Then again, you imagine it’d be rather hard to make a smooth transition into becoming a serious and respected actor after being in adult films. 

She manages to make her way over to him, knelt in between his knees, waiting for further instruction. And he makes her wait. The camera cuts a couple of times, documenting the power dynamic from several angles. It’s evident a long time has passed because she keeps shifting her weight, knees never quite finding relief on the floor.   

A small whimper leaves her, and it earns her a sharp smack across the cheek. You gasp at the same time she does, not expecting that at all for an action so miniscule. In almost the same motion, San’s grip returns to her hair, pulling her closer to his clothed crotch. 

“Be actually useful for once, baby.” He says sweetly, like he’s praising instead of degrading her. “Earn it.” 

You can tell she’s holding back another whimper, trying to be good. San guides her further down, until her face is pressed into the front seam of his tailored pants, and holds her there until she realizes what he wants her to do. Rather pathetically, she mouths at his dick through the fabric. He’s not even hard yet. No, he fully expects her to do all the work for him, including getting him ready. 

While she’s… busy, he lazily takes off his watch, setting it aside and rolls up the sleeves of his dress shirt to just above his elbows. You’ve seen him naked about a dozen times in these types of videos, and for some reason, this is what sends an uncontrollable shiver down your spine. Almost on sight, you feel how wet you’ve become, panties starting to cling to you. 

His face is stony, refusing to give away what he’s thinking. That’s privileged information. But the harder he gets, the more motivated she becomes, tilting her head to the side to attempt to wrap her lips around his length as best she can. And yet, he never says anything. No praise, no degradation. He lets her actions speak for themselves, lets it burrow into her mind on her own. Pathetic. She doesn’t bother looking up at him for reassurance anymore. He’s not giving her anything to work with. 

Abruptly, he yanks her back by the hair, just to see if she makes a noise. She does. Another sharp crack against her cheek makes you squeeze your thighs together. She takes three more slaps until he stops, his hands leave her entirely and one grips himself through his pants, sighing like he’s bored. Or rather, disappointed. From what you can discern from the print against his pants, he’s only half-hard. 

“You don’t want it that badly, do you?” He asks like he’s already decided her answer. 

Frantically, she shakes her head, denying his assumption. “No, no sir, I do want it. Please, I want it so–” 

Unfortunately for her, his mind is already made up. 

San rises from the couch, picking her up into his arms easily, like she weighed nothing. The camera cuts, now facing the bed, and San lays her down onto it. He then goes about tying her down to it, on all-fours. The girl’s face presses into the pillows, muffling any noise. San ties her ankles to the bedposts, leaving her spread open for him with no chance of closing herself off. Fully exposed, at his mercy. Or lack thereof. 

San then loosens his tie before wrapping it around her throat, fashioning it into a makeshift collar and leash. He tugs it once, testing its reliability. Satisfied, he lets it go for the time being, no doubt planning on using it later. For now, he stalks around the bed, admiring his work, and assessing the best way to deal with the girl tied up in front of him.

“Since you couldn’t wait and just had to touch yourself before you came to me, I’m gonna teach you some patience.” 

As if the last few times weren’t enough, an involuntary sound escapes from her lips. Soon enough, her ass is red and bruised, San’s hand quick to punish her for making noise. 

“Be quiet,” he reminds sternly, “or you get nothing.” 

That’s good motivation. Suddenly, you feel like you can’t make a single noise either. 

He disappears offscreen for a while, the camera cutting a few times to capture how the anticipation makes the girl very nervous and wet at the same time. Impatient, you skip ahead thirty seconds and San pops back into frame, holding something. 

There’s no warning, no telling her what it is. Only he and the audience (you) know. He holds the vibrator wand right up to her pussy, mere centimetres away and pauses. Her toes curl in an effort to stop the rest of her body from squirming. He waits for any minuscule movement. It’s when she cranes her neck, attempting to look back to see what he’s doing, that he turns it onto the highest setting and presses it against her clit in one swift motion. 

Poor thing gasps and screams at the intense, unexpected vibrations, earning her another brutal round of spanks. 

“Shhh,” he hushes her softly, “be quiet. Don’t move.” 

Your pulse stutters, eyes wider than they were before, and your hand starts to drift downwards, underneath your clothes, to find your clit. The relief is immediate, like scratching an itch. You work yourself up alongside her, trying to follow San’s instructions yourself. Breaths turning shallow, you press your lips together to keep from making any sounds. If you really wanted to immerse and challenge yourself, you’d grab your own vibrator from the drawer, but you can’t tear your gaze from the screen. You don’t want to miss anything, and you feel like pausing it would disrupt the experience. If this is potentially what’s in store for you, and she doesn’t get a break, you don’t get one either. 

Her fists tighten and grab at nothing, still bound behind her back. You can tell she’s losing the fight to follow through with his instructions. San notices this too. He moves the vibrator up and down, grinding the head of it harder on her clit before moving it away again. You have no idea how she’s managing to hold on. 

San hears it the same time you do, not a gasp or a noise per se, but a hitch of her breath, just audible enough to hear. At the same time, her legs begin to shake, out of her control to stop them from doing so. 

He takes the vibrator away, switching it off. 

Her toes curl again, burying her face deeper into the pillows to silence any sounds. Your hand stops dead, even though all you want to do is keep circling your clit. 

“See what I have to do?” He sighs, trailing the head of the vibrator down the back of her thighs. “If you just waited for me, I wouldn’t have to do this. I wouldn’t have to waste my time teaching you to be patient.”

Damn. Have you ever heard him talk to any of his scene partners like this? The San from the first video you watched as part of your ‘research’ seems a million miles away. A completely different person. 

Eventually, the vibrator is returned to her clit, humming at full power. You resume your own administrations as well. San kneads her ass with his free hand, eyes glued to her body, waiting for her to fuck up. Any excuse to take the pleasure away again. An excuse comes when she’s forced back onto the brink of an orgasm, and he switches the toy off again. But he keeps it pressed against her pussy. On instinct, her hips rock backwards, trying to chase the pleasure, and you can’t help but groan out of frustration as you take your hand away. This time, he doesn’t administer spanks to her ass, but right on her pussy. And she can’t help the high-pitched yelp that leaps from her throat. San spanks her pussy until she shuts up. You don’t realize you’ve stopped breathing until the uncomfortable pressure in your throat forces you to inhale deeply. 

The girl shudders after the last smack but doesn’t move or say a word. You’re both rooting for her and secretly hoping she’ll screw up again, just to see what he does. Also, you want to see if he’ll actually fuck her. 

Rather impatiently, you skip ahead a couple of minutes, needing to know if he’s the type to punish by leaving her empty the whole time. It takes only a second for the video to buffer and when it does, you see that he’s added another toy, keeping it pressed deep into her pussy, right up to the very base of it. The vibrator never leaves her clit. The skin of her ass is bright red and already bruising in some areas. It looks rather painful. She’s moaning but it’s muffled and barely audible – you can imagine San gagged her in some way to keep her quiet after failing over and over again. Possibly with his tie. He doesn’t move the toy at all, instead just forcing her to feel the thickness and weight of it buried deep inside of her, no doubt pressing right up against her g-spot. 

If he denies her again in this state, you’ll really be scared of him. 

And that, he does. 

This time, she wails through her gag, her whole body locking up and then quickly deflating in defeat. But the time in between denials is no longer merciful. San waits maybe ten seconds before starting again, placing the vibrator back where it belongs. 

God damn– you think, becoming wetter as your fingers find your clit again, your own pleasure building. The poor girl shrieks into the pillows, incoherently pleading with him to stop. Instead of listening to her cries, San taps the vibrator against her pussy, driving her – and you – even more crazy. 

“I’m doing you a favor,” he says flatly, not caring that she’s essentially begging for mercy. “You should be apologizing for making me waste my time to teach you basic manners.” 

Your mouth drops open at that. He’s so mean, and yet if you were in her position – which you may be soon – you’re pretty sure you’d start apologizing right away. But she can’t, at least not properly. Not with a gag in her mouth and her face half-pressed into the pillows. You imagine after being denied what must be nearing ten orgasms at this point, her mind is also going a bit blank. 

He presses the vibrator harder against her, making her back arch. “Tell me how sorry you are and maybe I’ll stop.” 

That grabs her attention. Muffled, garbled, and barely full sentences immediately tumble from her lips, on the off chance that he’ll take pity on her and stop this edging torture. Her body shudders violently, cutting off her voice entirely.  

Rather surprisingly, he does let up. Both toys disappear at once, and he watches her body collapse onto the bed, burning muscles unable to hold herself up any longer. But he doesn’t let the relief stay for long. His hand twists in her hair, yanking her upright until her back is against his chest. With the other, he rips the gag out – which was, in fact, his tie. 

“I’ll give you one chance to tell me the truth,” he mutters in her ear, his other hand lingering dangerously close to her sore mound. “Did you just cum without permission? Yes or no.” 

A sob tears itself from her throat, knowing that she’s been caught. 

San pulls her hair again, causing her to yelp again. “Answer me,” he hisses, “and don’t you dare lie to me.” 

“Y-yes, sir,” she whimpers, honest. 

He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t let her go. He just makes her stay with that feeling of guilt, the shame of being caught, and the foreboding knowledge that he’s going to have to punish her again. With his free hand, he runs the pads of his fingers through her soaking wet folds, collecting the evidence for himself. To humiliate her even further, he shoves those fingers into her mouth, pressing on her tongue. She whines around them, which he rewards by shoving his fingers deeper, into her throat. Tears flow down her face and neck, already utterly fucked out and he hasn’t even touched her himself, really. He’s still fully clothed, for fuck’s sake. 

San sighs, thinking aloud, “What should I do with you, hm?” 

Busy choking and spluttering around the intrusion in her throat, she can’t answer him at all. He probably doesn’t want an answer, though. You have a feeling he knows exactly what he’s going to do with her. 

Once again, you’re proven correct when he lets her go and pulls his fingers out of her mouth. He watches her gasp for air and cough violently for a fleeting moment of relative peace before dragging her back towards the edge of the bed. 

“Fucking useless slut…” he mutters to himself, just audible enough for her to hear. “You wanna cum so bad? Fine.” 

A new toy is brought into frame, this one looking more daunting than the other two. You can tell it’s one of those two-for-one types, and your heart goes out to her. It slips inside of her easily, though it’s thicker than the previous dildo, all but confirming once again that she did cum without his permission. This time, there’s no mystery or question about what he’s going to do to her. She knows. The knowing is almost worse than the not-knowing. 

He switches it on without much ceremony. She does her best to not move or make a sound, but another orgasm builds rapidly. Too fast, too soon. 

For seven straight orgasms, he just watches her. He doesn’t even touch himself even though you can tell he’s hard beneath those tailored pants. Her pleas fall on deaf ears, like he’s not even in the room. You’ve barely managed to keep up with her, coaxing two weak orgasms from your own body with just your fingers and already feeling exhausted. Fuck, maybe everyone’s right… 

You tap the screen to see how much more of the video is left, and your eyebrows raise when you see there’s still ten more minutes. You decide to skim through, just curious if he ever does let her have his cock.

Spoiler alert: he does not. 

In reality, the only thing he changes is that he jerks himself off, getting off on her screams and pleas for him to turn the toy off, that she’s had enough. For the last two orgasms he forces her through, he adds his thumb to her clit, circling it mercilessly. 

“One more, come on. This is what you wanted, isn’t it? To cum?” 

Through her tears and scratchy voice, she warbles, “W-want– wanted you t-to fuck me…” 

He only laughs at her, and it sends such a blow to your psyche. 

“Did you really think I would?” 

She screams again, mixing with her sobs and choked groans as the final orgasm rips through her worn-out body. The only act of kindness he gives her is removing the toy and kissing her back, in between her shoulder blades. 

He takes his time to untie her ankles from the bedposts, his hands smoothing over the skin where the rope had been. Wrecked and twitching, she curls into a ball on the bed, pussy sore and swollen. Knowing this, San drags her back down towards the foot of the bed, forcing her legs apart again. Her hands weakly try to push him away, but he ducks down, licking a near-fatal stripe up her folds, sucking harshly on her clit. Voice basically gone, her scream is broken and breathy. 

That’s a habit he has, you’ve noticed. Or maybe just a signature thing. No matter what, when he’s done with his scene partner, he gives their pussy one final lick. As if he’s sealing the deal. Something they’ll feel long after the cameras stop rolling, along with the ache of their inner walls. 

San chuckles, patting her inner thigh with his hand before pulling her onto the floor, back down onto her knees. He doesn't say anything more as he jerks off in front of her, aiming his cock right at her face. He lets her suck on it, much to your surprise, and he eventually comes. Some of it inside of her mouth, and the rest, he smears across her face. The final act of humiliation for her. 

You slam your laptop shut. 

Holy. Shit.       

· · ─────── ·☆· ─────── · ·

You come back to the forms after a cold shower and a half an hour long pacing session in your living room. 

With a somewhat clearer head, you decide to take it one question at a time. 

At first glance, you can’t help but feel like you’re filling out the forms you’d normally get in a doctor’s office. It covers everything. Height, weight, age, consent for Afterdark to inquire upon certain medical history to ensure the prevention of any diseases or illnesses, and payment information. On the next page, it goes deeper, and you almost want to take another lap before you dive in and check off any of the boxes. 

There’s a checklist of kinks, each one with a box to check if any are ‘hard no’s’ or ‘hard yesses’for you. You gotta hand it to Afterdark, they’re very thorough. At the very top, just above this checklist, you notice two more boxes simply labelled ‘Rough’ and ‘Gentle’. 

Ah. 

This must be the reason that every video with San feels different. Not just because of whatever context they provide in the beginning of the video, but he never exactly has the same go-to way of fucking every time. Except of course, that parting move he’s so accustomed to doing. With some women, he takes it very slow, gentle and caring with lots of praise, and with others, like the one you just watched, he is ruthless and mean, denying orgasms and spanking them until their skin turns an alarming shade of red. They’ve tailored their own experience with him. That makes you feel a bit better actually, gives you more of a sense of control. You’re not just walking into this with no say in what he does to you, nor will you be blindsided. Actually, you’ll have a pretty good idea, and no worries that he’ll do something you’re uncomfortable with. 

The empty boxes still taunt you. Which version of him do you want? 

After much consideration, you eventually let fate decide. You pick both options. Rough and gentle. Let’s see what he does with that. 

Moving on, forcing yourself to breathe slower, you continue down the list of kinks. Again, it’s very thorough, even asking for locations that you’d be okay filming in. You check off ‘hard no’ on most, if not all of the ‘bodily fluids’ section of the kink list. All except creampies, crying, and squirting. You wonder if he’ll be able to make you do that. If so, you don’t want to discourage him from it. You’re okay with toys, cunnilingus, fingers in your mouth, body worship, hair pulling, hickies, clothed sex, light bondage, the traffic light system, and spanking, just to name a few. You also mean to check off a hard ‘yes’ to aftercare. Aftercare is a non-negotiable for you. One of your exes never did that for you, and it’s been a dealbreaker ever since you got out of that relationship. You dislike feeling used after-the-fact. Discarded. It’s an ugly shock to your system, one that you’d like to avoid if possible. 

Double checking everything on this page, you go to the third and final page. 

In the top half, there’s an interactive calendar so you can input dates and times when you’re free to do the shoot. You’re pretty much free all the time, if you’re being honest. You just have a family wedding to go to in late August, two months from now. Though you’d rather do the shoot later in the day, not wanting to risk sleeping through it with your terrible sleep schedule. So, you mark every afternoon and evening as ‘available’. 

In the bottom half of the page, there’s just one last question, accompanied by a text box: ‘Tell us about yourself, and what we can do to better tailor this experience for you.’ 

You have to admit, you weren’t expecting this kind of question to come up. They want to know about you? Tailor this opportunity for you? 

Huh. 

Your mind goes blank at first. What could they possibly want to know? What are they actually looking for? There’s really no telling. 

Slowly, you type out a vague summary of where you grew up, why you started doing cam-shows, and that your favorite color is purple. When it comes to writing about how they can improve on this collaboration, your fingers hover over the keyboard. Stuck. You could just straight up not say anything, or just put ‘N/A’. But your inner professional tells you to answer it. You search yourself, wondering if there’s anything that would make you feel a little more comfortable while there. You assume they’ll provide a robe for you, or something to cover you up when you’re not filming, but you’ve also heard how ‘fucking cold’ porn sets are kept. Not exactly wanting to show up with a blanket from home, you decide that’ll be your one request. 

‘If it’s not too much to ask, I’d like a blanket while on set. Thank you! :)’ 

You double – triple – check each form page, making sure you didn’t accidentally check something off or type in your information wrong. After you confirm that everything is accurate and spelled correctly, you click on the ‘submit’ button. A ‘thank you’ screen pops up, and you quickly exit the tab, not wanting to think about it anymore. It’s out of your hands now. 

But speaking of the hands it’s now in, you have to set up a meeting time with this Kim Hongjoong guy.  

Right. Okay, onto the next step. 

In a new email, you type out all the dates and times you’re free – you may have made yourself sound busier than you actually are – and send it off to him. Glad to have everything done, you flop back against your pillows and groan. You replay all the images you’ve seen. All the things he’s done to multiple women. 

You wonder what on earth he’ll do with you. 

· · ─────── ·☆· ─────── · ·

It’s the next day that ends up being the meeting day. 

You opt for a virtual meeting, reasoning that it’ll probably be quicker and easier for both of you. From what it sounds like, being employed by Afterdark and Choi San keeps Hongjoong rather busy. 

You do your makeup and hair, wanting to look presentable. It’s the shirt that gives you a headache. You’re rather unsure how professional you should look. What does someone wear to a meeting like this? You look down at your chest, trying to mentally calculate how much of it is appropriate to show, and choosing a shirt based on that. Eventually, you just pick a nice triangle lace cami. Kim Hongjoong will just have to excuse the fact that it’s summer and hot in your apartment in the afternoons. You’ve been meaning to figure out how the air conditioning works. It’s hi-tech in a way that truly baffles you. You’ll get Yeosang to figure it out the next time he comes over. 

Moving your laptop into the kitchen for the natural light, you try to shake the nerves out of your hands as you walk around the kitchen island. You grab a cold water from the fridge and drink half of it before forcing yourself to sit down. The meeting is set for two-thirty, just a few minutes away. You kind of want to scream into the pillows on your couch. This will be the final stage until you actually go through with this whole collaboration. The last buffer until it happens. 

In the upper right hand corner, you see an email notification from Hongjoong, providing you with a link to a video chatroom. For a full sixty seconds, you pretend you haven’t seen it yet. But when that minute is up, and you have to be an adult, you take one more sip of water before clicking on the link and sneaking a glance at yourself in the reflection of your laptop as the camera loads. 

There’s a small boop sound from your laptop, signalling that the call has been connected and you brace yourself for a scam. Your hand hovers above the trackpad, ready to hit ‘end call’ at a moment’s notice. When his camera finally loads, you breathe a little easier. He’s in an office based on context clues of what you can see around him, and he’s rather handsome himself. That admittedly takes you aback. He has short, dark brown hair, round eyes, and a charming smile once he sees you on his screen. He pushes his glasses further up his sharp nose, and leans forward in his seat a little bit. 

“Miss Y/N! It’s so nice to talk with you today, how are you?” 

“I’m doing well, thank you. Are you the one I’ve been emailing?” You ask when he doesn’t introduce himself by name. You just want to clarify. 

He laughs to break any awkward tension, “Yes, that’s me. My apologies, I’m San’s agent, Kim Hongjoong.”

“Okay, good.” You smile back, shoulders relaxing a little more. His dress shirt makes you feel a bit… well, underdressed, but when you notice that the top two buttons are undone, it makes you feel a bit better. He’s clearly not going for ultra-professional right now either. Off camera, in your lap, you play with one of your rings, giving your nervous hands something to do. 

Unexpectedly, the first ten minutes are spent just making small-talk, especially after finding out you and him grew up around the same area. He asks you how you like the city, and you find yourself telling him about how much you love it, and that you never want to leave. Turns out he shares the same sentiment. It’s starting to feel less like a rigid job interview and more like a casual interaction. Nothing to be afraid of. You feel much more comfortable than you did ten minutes ago, that’s for sure. 

Hongjoong eventually looks over to the side, where his desktop computer is and starts clicking around, the light reflecting off of his glasses. And you realize that it’s time to actually start talking about the collab. You fix your earring for no real reason, just to give yourself something to do.  

“So, I’ve received the forms you completed – thank you for doing that, by the way – and I was wondering if you have any questions for me about them?” 

You pause before you answer. Now’s the time to ask, and with the right person, too. Humming to fill the silence, you think about a good question to ask first. 

Hongjoong picks up his phone when it starts vibrating incessantly, and looks at the screen for only a few seconds before placing it face down on his desk. Someone must be trying to get in touch with him, but he doesn’t bother with replying right now. You know it must be important, whatever it is, so you appreciate him keeping you the center of his attention right now. 

“I guess I’ve been wondering about… like… if I check off certain boxes will we do all of that? Or…?” 

Very eloquent. 

Luckily, he doesn’t seem to think anything of it. “Oh, no, no. Usually what happens is we take a look at it, figure out which ones would work best together and with you and San, and take it from there. It’s just to see what you’re comfortable with and to see which direction you want this collab to go.” 

That makes sense. And now that you think about it, what if someone puts a ‘hard yes’ next to something that San would check off as a ‘hard no’, obviously they wouldn’t do it. It’s a mutual agreement. They find the things that match between you two and take it from there. 

“Actually,” Hongjoong says with a small grin, still scrolling through the forms on his computer. “You two are pretty similar. It wasn’t hard to match up.” 

You hear it but your brain doesn’t process what it means yet. 

“Oh, really?” You say, not knowing how else to respond. 

Hongjoong just hums, nodding once. He pushes his glasses up again before turning back to you. 

“Regardless of that, though, I wanted to also let you know that if at any point during the shoot you feel uncomfortable and want to leave, you can, and you will be paid in full, no questions asked. Obviously though, if you leave before, or if you don’t show up at all, we can’t really do anything to pay you. We have this in place because we don’t want you to feel trapped once the scene starts. Does that make sense?” 

You nod quickly, “Yes, it does.” 

“Perfect,” he says. “So, with your schedule that you sent me, if you’re okay with it, we can set the date relatively soon. Is this coming Friday, at six o’clock alright?” 

Friday. As in… Friday, two days from now, Friday? Your mouth dries instantly. Two days from now. Is he not busy? You assumed this wouldn’t happen for a couple of weeks, at least. A delusional voice in your head tells you that maybe he cleared his schedule to be with you sooner rather than later. Oh, sure. Yeah, right.

Still, it baffles you. 

And yet you hear yourself say, “Friday’s good for me!” 

Well, now it has to be whether you’re ready or not. Your hands itch for your phone, needing to text Yeosang immediately, even though you know he’ll probably find your dilemma rather entertaining. You also need to book a waxing appointment and get your nails done ASAP. Maybe even a facial, too.

Fucking hell, Y/N, the things you get yourself into. 

Hongjoong lights up, quickly typing something on his keyboard, scrunching his nose once or twice to keep his glasses from moving down again. A few more clicks of his mouse, and it’s done. 

“Okay, perfect. I’ve got you booked for six o’clock this Friday. If you could email me where you’d like our driver to pick you up, that’d be great. Otherwise, do you have any other questions, comments, or concerns for me?” 

Your lips part. Driver? Someone from Afterdark is going to bring you to the set? Your right hand grips your phone, turning it over and preparing to call Yeosang as soon as you hang up with Hongjoong. 

Fuck, okay. Sure, why not? 

“Oh, um–” you suddenly remember one thing he hasn’t mentioned at all. “Is there a script? Like, do I need to know any lines before…?” 

Hongjoong answers right away, “Ah, this shoot will be unscripted. It’ll feel more natural that way.” 

More natural. Your heart feels like a brick in your chest. To be honest though, you’re really glad there is no script. However, a rubric would be helpful as well. You nod, acknowledging that information. So it really will be like the videos you watched. That’s the experience you’ll be getting. 

“Okay, cool,” you reply, desperately needing another drink of water for your dry mouth. “Thank you.” 

Hongjoong smiles politely. “No problem. Alright, well if everything sounds good, we’ll see you on Friday! Thank you for taking the time to speak with me today.”

We. 

Again, he’s probably just talking about the company, but Yeosang’s words from yesterday are stuck in your head. Your secret delusions and Yeosang’s smart mouth are never a good mix. 

“See you Friday! Thank you.” You reply politely, the very picture of calmness and professionalism.  

And once the call disconnects, you’re slamming your laptop shut and calling Yeosang to tell him everything.   

He picks up on the third ring, yawning and obviously not fully awake just yet. You forgot he went out with his friend last night. Still, it’s definitely time for him to be awake now. 

As expected, once you rattle off every detail of the call you were just on, Yeosang laughs his ass off. 

“Oh man,” he says with an audible sigh, “you’re fucked.”      

· · ─────── ·☆· ─────── · ·

Part of you wishes that the driver will somehow get hopelessly lost on the way to the set. 

You’re sure he’s been there multiple times before, but you pray for a random dose of amnesia anyway. It’s not that you’re second-guessing the decision – not at all – you just weren’t expecting the day to come so soon. It’s crazy how forty-eight hours now seems like no time at all. You shake out your hands as you step out of the car, and look up at the building. It’s rather unassuming, blending seamlessly into the numerous ones around it. Nothing about it screams that this is where adult films are produced. Not that you really expected it to. 

The driver parks with the hazards on, and gets out as well to let you into the building via a keycard. You thank him quietly as he holds the door open for you. He must’ve told you his name, but for the life of you, you cannot remember it. He points you in the direction of the elevators, and confirms that he’ll see you later to drive you home.

Then, you’re alone. He gets back into the car and drives it around the building, to an underground parking garage you assume.

You take a deep breath in the lobby, finding the elevators quickly and starting towards them. Hongjoong said the shoot is on the eighth floor, so you press the ‘8’ button once in the elevator car. 

As soon as the doors shut, the silence and gravity of what you’re there to do settles in immediately. You force yourself to take a deep breath, really dragging out how long you exhale to try and ease your heart rate. The second floor comes and goes, as does the third. But the higher you climb, the tighter your throat becomes. On floor five, you think of bailing. Past the sixth floor, already almost there, Yeosang’s custom text ringtone startles you. Glad to distract yourself, you immediately read the text.  

[yeoyeo🌻]: don’t let him intimidate you, you’re the one he wanted for this 

[yeoyeo🌻]: remember he’s literally just some guy and you’ll be fine 

[yeoyeo🌻]: you’re gonna be great :)    

You can’t help but smile, and you roll your shoulders back to stand taller. He’s right, as always. Choi San is many things, but at the end of the day, he is just a man. You have to view this as a very elaborate hookup rather than a career opportunity, just to calm your nervous system if anything else. 

When the elevator doors open on the eighth floor, someone is already waiting for you on the other side. 

Hongjoong. 

You don’t realize until this moment how relieved you are to see a somewhat familiar face. 

“Miss Y/N,” he greets, extending his hand out for you to shake, “it’s so nice to meet you in person.” 

You smile warmly, returning the greeting and hoping that your handshake is up to par. Before you have time to possibly overthink such a small thing, he asks if you need anything. 

“Oh, um…no, not at the moment, thank you.” 

“Of course,” he nods once. “If you do need something at any time, please let one of us know.” 

You assume that ‘one of us’ probably means the team of people you’re about to meet and be fucked in front of. Forcing another deep breath, you manage another easy smile and thank him again. 

He motions for you to follow him, and you have to look down at your feet to get them to move. You beg yourself inwardly to get a grip and soon. 

Hongjoong leads you down a long hallway, deeper into the Afterdark floorplan. You’re surprised by how nice it smells in here, like someone is burning incense somewhere. The walls are decorated with miscellaneous artworks and some awards, as well as headshots of the actors and actresses signed with them. At the end of the hallway, there are two huge double doors, and he pulls one of them open with ease, letting you walk into the gigantic room it reveals first. 

When you finally enter the large set, you can instantly feel the drastic temperature drop. Just as you had been led to believe, they must have turned down the thermostat in the room, making it several degrees colder than the early summer weather outside, and you rub your arms to try and warm them up. 

No more than five seconds after the two of you enter, Hongjoong is suddenly flanked by a young woman with a clipboard. A sticky note flutters as she keeps pace with you and him, and she mutters something to him that you can’t hear. 

“No, that’s alright,” he says quietly, “I think he’s good without her right now, but double check for me, please.” 

You keep your eyes on the floor, pretending that you didn’t hear anything, but your mind races. Who is ‘she’, you wonder? As quickly as she appeared, the assistant scurries off, past the camera and lighting crews, and over countless miscellaneous wires with practiced ease. 

While the two of you walk, you’re rather relieved that no one is staring at you as you go by. You’re just another actress to them, and right now, that’s okay with you. And luckily, the path Hongjoong is taking you on is relatively close to the perimeter of the set, so you’re not exactly the center of attention right now. A part of the wall juts out, making it look like a closet, but once he opens the door, you see it’s a dressing room. Complete with vanity lights, a full bathroom, and a brand new silk robe for you to wear on set, hanging up by the door. There’s also a small, plush couch up against the wall next to the vanity that you have a feeling you will be texting Yeosang on as soon as you’re left alone. 

“This is all yours for the day,” Hongjoong says, “someone will come around in a minute to help with hair and makeup, and then we’ll start.”

You nod, swallowing down as much of your anxiety as possible. 

“Will you, um–” you ask before you can stop yourself. Hongjoong pauses before he heads out, waiting expectantly for you to finish your question. “Are you gonna be on set the whole time?” 

His expression changes into something akin to surprise. Obviously, he wasn’t expecting you to ask anything about himself. He doesn’t answer straight away, taking a moment to try and understand why you’re asking that. You can almost see the professional within him piecing together a corporate response in real time.

“We try to limit how many people are in the room to those who are absolutely necessary. I usually stay close in case someone needs me. Why?” 

You wave your hand, trying to brush everything off. “No, I was just wondering. Nevermind. Thank you!” 

Hongjoong looks like he’s about to say something, but ultimately leaves you alone, gently closing the door behind him. 

As soon as it clicks shut, you’re moving to sit on the couch, ready to call Yeosang, but you stop yourself at the last minute. You’re acting crazy, you do realize that. And you have a sneaking suspicion he’ll tell you the exact same thing. 

Instead, to satiate your need to call him, you reread his last three texts of encouragement. 

Lock in. Remember who the hell you are. Now. 

You put on some ego-boosting music so you’re not just getting ready in silence, and quickly undress before hair and makeup arrive. Folded neatly on the vanity, is your outfit for the scene. A tight, cropped black lace cami, and a plaid mini skirt that leaves nothing to the imagination. 

No panties anywhere in sight. No bra, either. Total and easy access. 

Your lower stomach starts to heat up, already envisioning how San might go about undressing you. From what you’ve seen, rarely does he let girls undress themselves. No, he wants to be the one to do it. Like he’s unwrapping a present, just for him.  

After you throw your hoodie onto the couch with the rest of your pile of clothes, you turn back to the vanity, noticing a small army of mini water bottles lined up and waiting for you if need be. You’re almost positive that if you look in the vanity drawer, you’ll find snacks as well. Maybe you can get used to this. But you’ll wait to give your final verdict after the job you came here to do is done. It’s best to wait. 

You’re only waiting for a minute or two before there’s a light knock on the door. Two women wearing face masks enter the dressing room, bowing to you and introducing themselves. You try to remember their names – Youngmi, you think is the makeup artist, and Rina, the hair stylist – but your brain is elsewhere, working double overtime to try to calm you down. Luckily, the Britney Spears song in the background is doing a lot of the heavy lifting. Youngmi and Rina are quick, and good at what they do. Rina makes you laugh by scrunching her nose and singing along to the song as she brushes through your hair. Youngmi only rolls her eyes at her colleague, but it’s all in good fun. 

By the time they’re done, you no longer feel like the scared outsider that doesn’t look the part. They made you even more beautiful. 

There she is, you think as you admire yourself in the mirror. 

You sigh in relief, feeling much more confident than before. And not only that, you feel ready. It’s not the easiest thing to turn your nervousness into excitement, but somehow, this time, you manage to do it. So many girls would kill to be in your shoes right now – or, in your skirt. You had kicked your shoes off next to the couch. 

You make sure to thank Youngmi and Rina before they bring you out, not knowing if you’ll have a chance once you’re on set. With one more spritz of your perfume that you brought with you from home, and a last minute decision to bring the robe out with you, you finally follow them out towards the set. Just mere feet from where you’ll be… ‘performing’. 

· · ─────── ·☆· ─────── · ·

As you’re walking and looking around, you start to wonder if San makes it a point to surround himself with equally beautiful people. Or maybe it’s a company requirement. 

Sure, maybe Hongjoong, Youngmi, and Rina are just coincidences, but even the camera and lighting crew are arguably just as pretty. Speaking of Hongjoong, you look around, noting that he isn’t anywhere to be found at the moment. He’s probably with his talent right now. 

When you’re introduced to the director, you almost say something about it. Everyone in this room is attractive. Conventionally, unconventionally, and everything in between. 

“Hello Ms. Y/L/N, I’m Choi Jongho, I’ll be directing you two today.” He introduces himself, bowing politely and shaking your hand. 

You bow your head and reply, “Hi, it’s nice to meet you.” 

He offers you a chair to sit in while everyone waits for San to come out, and you take it gratefully. You don’t know how long he’ll be. Youngmi and Rina excuse themselves, heading off in the other direction together, walking with purpose. You drape your robe across the back of it, unsure if you’re supposed to give it to someone or take it with you onto the set. 

“Would you like anything to drink, Ms. Y/L/N?” The director asks, noticing that you don’t have anything with you ready for any breaks. 

Director Choi only refers to you as “Ms. Y/L/N.” Very professional, cordial even. Makes you feel like more than an object his star is about to fuck on screen. You’re being treated with real respect, which is a pleasant surprise in comparison to what you had expected from the porn industry. 

You look around yourself, only just now realizing you didn’t take one of those mini water bottles from your dressing room like you originally planned. 

“A water, please–” you start to say. As soon as the last syllable of ‘water’ is spoken, an assistant hands you one. You didn’t even see him standing next to you, much less holding a bottle. Then again, you aren’t really paying attention to whether or not people are carrying water bottles or not right now. Damn.   

You try to warm up your arms by rubbing them, now that you’re virtually wearing next to nothing in this arctic-like room. Only a few moments later, a blanket is handed over to you wordlessly by another assistant, a quick bow following the action. You tilt your head down as a responding bow, shocked. You didn’t even have to say anything. 

Is this what San is used to? Everything given to him at once, on a silver platter with no questions asked? You imagine every single thing handed to him accompanied by hopeful, round eyes looking at him for his approval, only to be ignored or thanked by a small nod. You’re so used to doing everything yourself, this type of treatment makes you feel… stuck up – and every fiber of your being screams at you to make sure none of the staff think that of you. 

“San will be out in just a moment,” Director Choi says, but his heart isn't in it. He checks his watch and glances towards San's dressing room with nearly well-concealed impatience. It is rather late in the day, and you only just now think about the possibility that they may have been here since early morning. Maybe even shooting San with someone else. It’s entirely possible. You can imagine they all just want to get this last one done and go home. None of them would ever let that show, though. No, you have to admit everyone here is quite professional. 

Your hands absentmindedly twirl a strand of hair around your finger as you zone out. At least for now, you can zone out with a blanket wrapped around you. 

The air shifts just moments later.

It’s like a sudden pressure drop where everything goes still for only a second. That one second feels like a lifetime as you turn your head to see what’s going on. Though, in your heart you know exactly what it is without needing to look – it’s the arrival of the main attraction. 

From where you are, leaned back in your chair, you can’t see him too well. He’s surrounded by a team that moves with him like a clump of cells, or maybe in this case, like sheep in a herd. Finishing touchups by Youngmi and Rina, an assistant by his side carrying a medium-sized leather bag and holding his coffee cup when San hands it to him, and other miscellaneous characters that float around the star. Everyone wants to be near him in some way. 

Hongjoong stays at the back of it all, looking down at his phone as he walks. 

The team finally disperses one by one, revealing more of Choi San to your eyes. 

When San finally gets close enough to you, whatever air in your lungs is promptly sucker-punched out of you at the sight of his refreshing beauty. It’s even more pronounced in real life. You’re not entirely sure how to greet him, or what he’s used to. But you remember Yeosang’s encouragement again: He’s just a guy. Don’t let him intimidate you. You’re gonna be great. 

He’s just a guy. You’ve dealt with those before. It’s just that this guy in particular is crafted like an apology for creating men in the first place. And a couple of days ago, you were watching him make a girl cry on a bed that looks quite similar to the one on set right now. 

You stand up, smoothing down your skirt and standing still, hands clasped in front of you. 

“Hey Jongho, sorry we’re late,” Hongjoong calls over, pocketing his phone. He side-eyes San, who bows his head in apology as he walks.  

The director waves him off, clearly used to his tardiness and the apologies that follow. “It’s alright,” he says, “you’re actually earlier than we thought you’d be.”   

“We need to go over the rules with her,” San says once he’s close enough to you and the director, sounding tired. You wonder if he just woke up. He rolls up the sleeves of his dress shirt as he speaks, and catches you looking. You don’t see it when you quickly avert your eyes, but his whole demeanor changes. No longer lethargic, he becomes awake and alert at the sight of you. 

Director Choi nods and grabs a clipboard from his own director’s chair. You nervously roll your ankle, hearing it crack quietly in the interim.  

“Right, number one rule is consent. If at any time you want to stop, just say the word. No questions asked. Second rule is to keep all details of this shoot private, including any conversations with each other,” At this, Director Choi looks up at you. “Third rule is health and safety, but Hongjoong said you covered that with him, and when you sent in the form,” Again, his eyes flick up from the clipboard to glance at you. “Fourth is to be respectful at all times – there’s no room for ego here. And lastly, don’t look at the camera unless told to, otherwise keep the illusion.” 

You go over each rule in your head before you forget. Consent, confidentiality, feel safe, be respectful, and don’t look at the camera. Simple enough. You keep your chin up, and shoulders back. You force that annoying inner voice of self-doubt to mumble the lyrics of the Britney song from earlier. 

“Follow these, and we’ll have a great shoot day. We should be ready to go in just a few minutes.” Director Choi offers both of you a quick smile before he turns on his heel and walks towards the cameraman, getting everything finalized and ready to shoot. Your heart pounds underneath the robe. Hongjoong steps closer to San, muttering something to him before walking back towards the dressing room. 

You’re just about to walk over to the set to get used to it and be ready to go whenever they are, when San steps right in front of you, effectively blocking the way.  

Out of the blue, he crowds your personal space, and you have to really dig deep to make yourself stay put. Right where you stand. Don’t be intimidated. At the end of the day, you’re both here to do the same job, and both of you are successful in your own rights. He’s just a man, you remind yourself again. 

San towers over you, his shirt opened just enough for you to see his perfectly toned and tan chest right in your face. You keep eye contact, even though all you want to do is look away. It’s much easier to be confident and independent on your own turf, but here on his, it’s more of a challenge. Still, you stand your ground. You have to if he’s going to keep sizing you up. He has been since he walked out here.  

“You didn’t cum,” he says matter-of-factly. 

… 

Pardon? Did you hear him right? What an odd opening line to say to someone you’re meeting for the first time. 

Your lips part and eyebrows furrow, rather startled. “I’m sorry?” 

There’s no way you heard him correctly.  

“Your last liveshow,” he shrugs. “Am I right?” 

Well… yes, but– how did–? 

Is this how he starts all of his conversations? With a personal accusation? 

“That’s alright. We all do it sometimes,” he shrugs again. He leans down so his mouth is next to your ear and lowers his voice. “You’re not gonna fake it with me, though,” he says, and the terrifying thing is that he sounds genuine. It’s not unfounded cockiness or meaningless bravado. He means what he says in all seriousness. He says it like you shouldn’t worry about it. Like it’s a promise. 

And you exhibit monumental self-control to not clench your thighs together at this moment. 

Your mind races at a million miles a minute. That, you didn’t expect. Isn’t that all that porn is? Fake, overblown orgasms for the girls and endless, guaranteed pleasure regardless for the men? You’re starting to think that this may not be the case with him. You think about the videos you watched as part of your ‘research’, and a bolt of electricity zips up your spine. You never doubted that he made his costars feel good, but you know full well that a lot of porn actresses pretend that they’ve cum with their scene partner. But with him, now you know: all of the girls weren’t acting. In fact, you really doubt that they needed to fake just how good he made them feel. The last video you watched of him comes back to mind… you wonder if he’ll make you scream like that too.

Unsure of how to respond to that, you just take a small step backwards to put some distance between you two. Room to think and process if possible. But he’s relentless, and he seems to like getting up in people’s space. A mischievous glint in his eye tells you that he’s enjoying this particular encounter especially. He’s definitely the type of guy that finds it fun to make girls flustered or nervous. 

You swallow hard. 

“You sound rather confident,” you note, still trying your best to hold eye contact with him. To not back down or seem weak. You’re sure it’s not working. You just refuse to melt all over him, or suck up to him. Especially not when he’s the one who asked you here.  

Surprisingly, he smirks. “Shouldn’t I be? I’ve done my research, I know you probably have done yours as well.” 

So you were right. Yeosang, too. San has seen your content before. And not only has he seen your previous works, he was right there with you, watching your last live. Your speculation sounds a lot like confirmation now. 

“Does that make you nervous, kitten?” He whispers, tilting his head slightly to the side like he’s about to kiss you. He could if he just leaned forward a couple more inches. 

A little, you admit to yourself. Your heart hammers against your chest like it’s trying to push you forward, to get closer to him. At this proximity, you can easily smell his cologne and dammit, somehow it makes him even more attractive. You’re almost getting annoyed with him now. Surely there should be at least one flaw to him, something that makes him human like the rest of the world. 

“No,” you lie, “I’m fine.” Arms crossed. Eyes up. 

San laughs lightly, and his smile instantly becomes the most attractive thing about him so far, even if it’s at your own expense. 

“If you say so,” he shrugs again. 

He doesn’t move away from you, though. Not right away. His gaze lingers on your lips for a fleeting moment, which gives you just enough time to come up with a question of your own. 

“So, you’re a fan of mine?” 

At that, he pauses. But, he doesn’t shy away from it. 

“Yeah,” he says, owning up to it immediately. He straightens back up as you nod, taking in the information. “Have been for a while now. I saw that other collab you did with that guy, it was really fuckin’ hot.” 

You make a mental note to let Yeosang know he was right about that, as well. To be honest, you weren’t expecting the compliment.  

“I’m– glad you liked it,” you say, clearing your throat in the middle of the sentence. You’re doing pretty well on the outside despite your nervousness beginning to rise again on the inside. San studies you once more, like he’s searching for something on you that only he can see. You step back again and turn your face away from him as you take a sip from your water bottle, taking your time to screw the cap back on. 

“Mm… you’re even prettier in real life,” he says, so casually it almost doesn’t register. 

You nearly swallow wrong, just barely avoiding choking on the small amount of water still left in your mouth. Luckily, Director Choi calls over to you two to start making your way onto set. 

The final few minutes begin to tick down.  

You don’t attempt to hide the deep breath you take, but you do try to not make it very noticeable. Placing the water bottle onto the chair you were just in, you clear your throat again. 

“Any final advice or warnings for me before we start?” You ask, keeping your voice casual and light. It’s a subtle dig to him, but you mean no malice behind the words. Fortunately, he picks up on it. 

“Oh, tons,” he grins, keeping pace with you onto the set. It’s almost easy to forget the cameras.  

You steal a glance at him as you walk, the floor bitterly cold beneath your feet. With each step the bed gets closer and closer. Now finally getting a chance to see the set in detail, you’re pretty impressed. It’s a pretty realistic bedroom setting, complete with shelves decorated with trinkets and records, but vague enough to have no specific personality. Nobody’s going to be admiring the set design when they watch this. Still, you appreciate the effort made by the production team to make it feel real. 

The lights facing you are blinding and you wince when you accidentally look right into one. Good incentive to not look that way, you suppose. 

San sits on the edge of the bed. “You get used to it,” he says, nodding towards the lights. 

You nod as well, placing a hand above your heart, willing it to stop racing. 

Noticing this, San takes your hand and guides you to sit down next to him. You do feel a bit better now that you’re sitting. You keep your eyes down to avoid burning your retinas, and turn your head slightly towards him. He shifts a little closer, positioning his body so he’s facing you. 

“Nervous?” He asks rhetorically, knowing full well that you are. He’s still holding your hand, playing with each of your fingers one by one. 

“Obvious?” You reply, managing to laugh at yourself, despite your nerves. 

San grins, his eyes turning into crescents, and that dimple in his cheek reappearing. “Only a little bit. But, I’ve seen worse.” 

You hum in response. Being reminded of his experience, leaps and bounds ahead of yours, does nothing to help your anxiety. You just hope you can live up to the fantasy version of your own self. That’s the version of you he invited. 

Where’s Britney when you need her?  

You push your hair back, a minute attempt to self-soothe in some way. You only realize halfway through the action that Rina probably just clutched her pearls somewhere past the lights, cursing you for messing up her work. Oh, well. According to what you’ve seen and the information you’ve gathered, your hair’s gonna be plenty messed up anyway. 

The room is starting to become a lot less crowded. Just like Hongjoong had said, only the essential people stay on set to make sure everything goes smoothly and safely. Everyone else becomes fading background noise, filtering out into the hallway you first came in from. 

But less distractions means you notice the man right next to you even more. 

You can feel San’s eyes on you. 

It’s not an uncomfortable feeling, quite the opposite actually. The weight of it is light, soft around the edges as he appreciates how he managed to practically will you onto this set with him. You’d been sure you may be insecure around him because of his almost unnatural beauty, but… actually, having his eyes on you right now makes you a bit more confident. He’s not looking at anyone else but you. Not just looking, but admiring. 

His gaze drifts down, greedily drinking in the sight of your collarbone and legs – the only skin you’re revealing at the moment. If the crew would just hurry up, he’ll be able to see more. 

Fortunately, he’s never been one to wait to get what he wants. Especially not in this industry. And right now, he wants you. 

“I meant it, by the way,” he says quietly, “you’re beautiful.” 

Without any water to choke on, or an interruption from the director, you simply look up at him, finally meeting his eyes. There’s no trace of irony anywhere. Not in what he said, and not hidden somewhere within his features. The genuinity, and the doubling-down of the compliment takes you aback. 

“Thank you… you’re quite beautiful yourself.” You compliment him back, shifting how you’re sitting to face him as well. 

By now, your knee is touching his. Even this small amount of contact between you makes your shoulders tense again. You’re not sure why, but you just want to melt into him already. Perhaps due to the undeniable attraction you feel towards him. 

Maybe it’s the insane sexual tension between you both, that very well could be the root cause as well. 

You remember how real his scenes look… this must be how the chemistry is kindled. Starting before the cameras capture anything, it makes it all seem less like a show. And you know what? Until the director yells ‘cut’, you’re more than willing to match that energy.

His hand moves from yours to rest on your thigh, slowly, like he’s silently asking for permission to continue. When you don’t flinch or push him away, he hikes up your skirt just an inch or two higher, exposing more of your skin. The light ghost of his touch makes you freeze in place. It’s already dizzying enough to have him in such close proximity, and now adding in the electricity of his touch, it’s a whole other level. And this, you assume, is just the warmup. Getting you used to the feeling of his hands on you. It’s nice that it doesn’t feel wrong. 

The lighting crew dims one of the lights and one of them loudly asks the director if it looks good on camera. Distracted, you turn back to look their way again, but San gently cups your face with his hand, making you face him instead. 

He hums, looking down between your still-clothed bodies. His other hand dips under the hem of your skirt, and your breath hitches. Worrying too much about the crew still, you look back to see if this is alright to do before the cameras start rolling. 

“Don’t look at the camera, kitten,” San purrs, “I believe that was rule number five.” 

“Oh, shut up,” you mumble without any real bite to your words. 

That smile of his returns, and the energy between you becomes even more charged. The moment right before someone gives in after holding back for too long. 

San never looks anywhere else, entirely focused on you. It doesn't matter to him that there’s about twenty people still in the same room, all witnessing this ‘warm-up’ unfold. It barely fazes him. He’s experienced in this setting, way more used to it than you are. You just have to roll with it. 

His hand on your face drops back down to the mattress as his wrist turns, and you inhale sharply when he lightly drags his fingers through your wet folds. He hums again, clearly satisfied. 

“What’s got you this wet already, kitten?” 

Your lips part to answer, but he finds your clit before you can speak. This time, you gasp quietly before you can stop yourself. Once again, you glance over at the crew, wondering if anyone is watching the two of you. You can’t see very well because of the lights and the various equipment in the way, but several of the crew and team are. 

San smirks, pressing the pads of his fingers harder against your clit. “You like the attention?” He asks, following your gaze. “It’s different from your little camshow isn’t it? Now the audience is only a few feet away…” 

His fingers begin to move in small circles, occasionally dipping further down to collect your wetness before bringing it back up to your clit. 

“San–” you breathe, catching his wrist in a semi-firm grip. Not to move it away, but just to hold onto something. Jesus, the shoot hasn’t even officially started yet, but you’re about to beg them to hurry up so it can. 

San just moves closer to you, his eyes greedily drinking in your cute expression. His voice is quieter, so only you can hear him. “Already thought about all the ways I’m gonna make this pretty cunt cum for me. ‘M gonna make you feel so good.” 

Another promise. 

A shiver runs down your spine, and that’s the moment the crew decides that they’re ready to shoot. 

San pulls away like nothing happened, even smoothing down your skirt for you. You force yourself to breathe through your nose, steadying your pulse. You quickly look down, checking to see if your top is still on straight.  

Director Choi walks up to you both for final notes. “Alright, no script so we’re mostly gonna follow your lead, just let us know when one of you needs a quick break. All three cameras are going to be rolling, and one handheld. You remember all the rules?” He looks over to you. 

You nod quickly, unable to meet his eye right now. The back of your hand lifts to your cheek to check how hot it’s gotten – as if you need additional confirmation. You hope you didn’t smudge your makeup or wipe some of it off by accident, but you imagine that if it shows up on camera, they’ll stop to fix it. 

“Okay, then we’re ready to go.” 

San thanks him as he walks off, turning his attention back onto you. Your gaze has dropped down to your lap, breaths kind of erratic from the little show you and him just put on, and from nerves. But you manage to pull yourself together, externally at least. All you really have to do now is look pretty for the camera. You can do that. Except for the live audience, this isn’t much different to a camshow, really. 

And aren’t you here for your fans anyway? Sure, you also wanted the opportunity and experience, but it’s also for your fans. The ones who supported you enough to even get noticed by Afterdark and San in the first place. You imagine they’ll make up at least half of the view count whenever this video drops. You’re performing for them. Not for the strangers in the room. 

Once that clicks for you, all your anxiety melts away, freeing you to finally just… enjoy this. Why not? You deserve it. 

Plus, you’re quite eager to pick up right where you and San left off just moments ago – and it seems that San is too. 

His gaze becomes heavier, darker as he shifts into his on-screen persona. 

“C’mere, kitten, want you on my lap to start.” He says, moving back on the bed a little more and gently pulling you towards him. 

You straddle his legs, slow to sit down fully. Now slightly above and closer than before, you can’t look anywhere else but at him. His hands slowly trail up your thighs again, watching you the whole time. You stop breathing when his fingertips tease the hem of your skirt again. He can probably feel through those dress pants he’s in how wet you are. Equally though, you can feel how hard he’s getting. 

Subtly, you grind your hips down onto him. The immediate pleasure of the friction against your bare pussy makes your eyes roll back. One of his hands sneaks to your hip, gripping it tightly, and you meet his eyes again. 

“It’s just you and me,” he says quietly, breath fanning across your cheek. 

You nod, eyes fluttering closed again as you grind into him once more. “Okay…” 

Through your pleasurable hazy fog, you faintly hear someone yell, ‘Action!’. 

And San stops holding back. 

The hand on your hip pushes you back and pulls you in, encouraging you to keep grinding on him – and to not stop anytime soon. His other hand moves to your hair, keeping your face close to his as he finally kisses you. His lips are pleasantly soft, and he tastes like peppermint. You hope you do too, you probably brushed your teeth at least four times before the driver showed up outside your apartment building. San seems to have no complaints as he moans quietly, his hand tightens in your hair. 

Your whole body feels electric, every touch amplified by a thousand. He makes out with you slow and deep, savouring the taste of you, and groans into your mouth with each roll of your hips. 

San tilts your chin up to kiss your neck, hiding his face from the camera. “Never answered my question,” he whispers, barely audible so his voice doesn’t get picked up by any of the overhead microphones. 

You disguise your response as a moan, “Hm?” 

He licks a small stripe up your neck, right up to your ear and looks down between you. You follow his gaze, only to find a wet patch staining his pants already. 

Ah. 

His question from mere minutes ago: What’s got you this wet already? 

“So wet for me,” he murmurs, a bit louder. It’s alright if the microphones pick that up. “Wonder why…” 

It’s the knowing smirk that does it. You move to undress him first, intriguing him. He didn’t expect you to be so bold right out of the gate. But, you have an on-screen persona of your own. Now both of your characters are out to play. 

In your dwindling patience, you come close to just ripping the shirt off when you fumble with one of the buttons. San finds your lips again as you push the offending fabric off of him, eager to explore his newly exposed body. But you’re next. 

Both of his hands lift up your shirt until it comes off over your head, forcing you two to break apart for a moment. Neither of you wait to make up for that lost time. You drape your arms around his shoulders, one of your hands lightly tugging at the roots of his hair. At first, your whole body erupts in goosebumps from the cold air now hitting your upper body as well, and not just your arms, but you can’t blame your reaction entirely on the temperature. 

San must notice how your shoulders hunch a little and how you press further into him, because he is quick to warm you up. 

One arm around your waist, he pulls you closer, chests touching. The first brush of your peaked nipples against his skin makes you gasp into his mouth. He nips at your bottom lip, distracting you while his hand moves from the back of your head, down to one of your breasts. His thumb flicks over the sensitive bud there and you have to duck your head down to catch your breath for a second. You grind down onto him again, adding to your arousal tenfold. 

Refusing to prolong this any longer, San suddenly flips you onto the bed, underneath him. His hand returns between your legs, fingers shallowly dipping into your entrance and circling your clit. He keeps just out of your reach, his lips so frustratingly close to yours. You glance down to watch him. The visual of his hand disappearing underneath your skirt, the veins in his arm beginning to rise and pop, and the heat of his body against yours is all starting to add up. 

You tug at your own skirt, looking up at him with doe eyes. He nods twice, understanding. In no time at all, your skirt is unzipped and pulled down your legs, discarded somewhere onto the floor. 

Now fully exposed, San pauses. 

The tempo of the scene slows abruptly as he takes his time to look at your body, laying so prettily beneath him. He looks at your body like he’s deciding where to start first, with too many enticing options. You drag your hands down his chest, lightly scratching him and making him shiver in the process. This, you realize, is how he makes every scene feel legit. He takes his time to admire his partner, make them feel admired and wanted. You have to admit, it does work its magic. Not just for the audience, but for you as well. 

He catches both of your wrists, bringing your hands together to kiss them both before guiding them down above your head. 

“Keep them here,” he murmurs, kissing you once more. 

You barely have time to enjoy or savor the taste of him again before he moves to kiss your neck. Eyes closing, you sigh into the feeling, wanting to commit this to memory. He doesn’t stay in one place for long, moving down to kiss your chest next. Soft, wet warmth once again wraps around your nipple and you arch your back to try and get more of it. You twist your hands in the sheets above you, keeping them anchored there just like he instructed. 

San then moves further down, ghosting his lips past your stomach. You part your legs to accommodate him, and he kneels on the floor, gently pushing your legs further apart. He drags this out, just to torture you, you think. His intentions and what he’s about to do are clear, but he’s a professional at driving his partners crazy. The kisses turn to licks, right next to your labia. So tantalizingly close. 

If your eyes were open, you’d see that he’s been watching you the entire time, trying to pace himself as best he can. You’re actually lucky there’s a job to do here because if it was just the two of you alone, he doesn’t think he’d be holding himself back from just taking what he wants. 

To him, this is all just a chance for him to prove himself to you. To him, you’re the star. And he’s going to make sure you leave this set more than satisfied. Wanting for nothing. 

But he’s not going to start until you beg him to. 

His breath fans across your wet lower lips and your hands find his hair again, trying to push his mouth where you need him. You hear him laugh, exhaling through his nose before moving your hands away. 

“Thought I told you to keep your hands up there, kitten,” he reminds you, with a slight warning edge to his voice. 

Oh, shit, you realize all too late. The last video flashes through your mind, and he feels you tense up. He kisses your hipbone to calm you down. 

“Be a good girl and keep them above your head,” he repeats his previous order. 

You nod quickly, “I’m sorry–” but he cuts you off by licking a thick wet stripe through your folds. Your breath hitches, and your hands stay cemented to the sheets, to hold on for dear life. 

When he repeats the action, the tip of his tongue flicks at your clit, making you see stars already. 

“Oh my god…” you moan, eyes fluttering shut again. 

Your hands itch to move back down to his hair, wanting to pull him closer and to push him away. You want to touch him again, but the fear of him reenacting the ‘Fantasy’ video keeps you frozen. 

As expected, his mouth is just as perfect as the rest of him. The softness of his lips against your core only stokes the dull heat in your lower stomach. He alternates between focusing more on your clit, and dipping his tongue into your entrance. The most addicting part is that he’s moaning while he eats you out, like the taste of you is getting him off. You hope he lets you return the favor. 

He readjusts his hands on your thighs when they threaten to close around his head, opting to push them back towards your chest. Your toes curl as he sucks your clit hard, and you can’t help the high-pitched sound that escapes your mouth. He does it again, and again, getting you louder each time. 

“Look at me, baby,” he breathes, his nose brushing up against your sensitive clit as he speaks. 

You whimper as you lift your head up, resting on your elbows to not strain your neck. He meets your eyes for just a second before shoving his tongue into your hole, rubbing his nose against your clit again. You cry out, throwing your head back as the pleasure increases and squirm in his strong grip. Legs shaking and breath uneven, it’s clear that you’re close. Now you’ll get to see what he has planned for you. The two boxes you checked off, ‘Rough’, and ‘Gentle’ come back to haunt you. 

A moan cuts you off as you try to warn him that you’re close, but he can tell without needing to hear you say it. He’s been the cause of enough female orgasms to see the warning signs of one approaching. Two of his fingers suddenly dip into you as he sucks on your clit, hooking deep inside and prodding your g-spot over and over again. 

His voice is rough and gravelly against your pussy, “Cum for me, baby. Wanna taste it.” 

A bolt of electricity runs through you as you cum, shaking and moaning while it gradually subsides. The heat in your lower stomach cools off but stays simmering now, waiting to be rekindled again. You whimper, raising your head back up to look at him. He’s in his own world between your legs, gently licking your pussy and your inner thighs clean. Your core clenches around his fingers when he slowly starts to drag them out, and he smirks. He lowers your legs back down, kissing your knee and doing a quick check to make sure you’re okay to continue. 

You answer that check by sitting up and pulling him towards you, kissing him even more hungrily than before. He hasn’t even wiped his mouth yet, but you don’t care. Without breaking the kiss, he follows you back down onto the bed, sucking on your tongue and wrapping a hand around your throat. Not tight enough to restrict airflow, but just enough to make your head feel light. He grinds his still-clothed erection into you, and the friction makes your head spin. You don’t know if you’re allowed to move your hands or not, but you just want to touch him so badly. You want to grip his length, make him feel just as good, taste him too. 

For now, you just roll your hips up into his, moaning into his mouth. 

“Want it…want you,” you mumble, parting from his lips for just a second to tell him that. 

San hums, lazily kissing your jaw. “What do you want, kitten? Be specific.” 

You groan inwardly, but you know he has to prolong this a little. Damn… for a while, you forgot about the reason you’re currently underneath him. You sneak a glance over to your left, seeing where the set ceiling abruptly stops and opens up to the industrial interior of the Afterdark building. He notices your focus straying, and he’s quick to act. 

“Tell me,” San redirects you, blocking your view by kissing the left side of your neck and distracting you from everything else by keeping his hard-on pressed right up against your bare pussy. His voice is firmer. A small warning and reminder of rule number five. 

You take a deep breath before you voice what you want, “Wanna suck your cock… please, sir.” 

It’s the ‘sir’ that nearly kills him. You really have done your research, haven’t you? You know that’s what he likes to be called, especially when his scene partners are feeling extra submissive to him. Are you feeling that way already? Maybe you just really want to do this for him. San studies you for a second, confirming the latter. He can see how much you actually mean it by the way you look up at him, pleading with your eyes. 

And who is he to deny you? Especially when you ask so nicely. Plus, he’s been wanting to feel your mouth wrap around his cock since he watched your livestream. 

“Yeah?” He asks, biting the space where your neck meets your shoulder and pressing up against you again. 

You give him your best doe-eyed look, really tapping into your innocent act. “Yes, sir.” 

San helps you sit upright again and stands at the foot of the bed, starting to undo his belt. Wanting to be an active participant, you lean forward, dragging your lips down and across his abs, occasionally licking at his soft, honeyed skin. His belt hits the floor, and your hands are quick to do the rest. It’s a little hard to get the zipper down, but you manage it, successfully removing his pants. You’re just about to deal with his underwear next, but he grabs your wrist, pulling you towards him. You stumble a little as you find your footing on the floor, and let him lead you over to a chair against the set wall. It’s a better angle for the cameras, you assume. For him, he just wants to watch you do this properly. He wants nothing to obstruct his view, or the camera’s. 

San pushes his hair back as you drag the final piece of clothing away from his body. You avert your eyes until the very last second, tossing the garment off to the side to join the sad little pile of discarded clothes on the floor. Now you take your time, pressing a kiss to his knee, slowly rising up onto yours the further up you move. You hear his breath shift, and you finally glance up to face his cock. 

Somehow, it’s bigger than it looks on camera. 

You have no idea how that’s possible – you know about the fish eye lenses and tricks the porn industry will use to make someone’s dick look bigger than it is, but right now, you’re presented with the exact opposite. It’s larger in real life. This, you were not expecting, but it is such a pleasant and welcome surprise. And of course, it’s just as pretty as the rest of him.  

Both of these things combined only make you want to put your mouth on it even more. 

When you delicately wrap your hand around it, he hisses at the long-awaited contact. A hand tangles into your hair, not pulling you towards him, just resting there for now. San leans back against the chair, his toned body a feast for the cameras and for you. You remind yourself not to rush, and to savor this. 

Wanting to give him a taste of his own medicine, you tease him a little by ghosting your lips up his length, watching him shiver and bite his lip. You kiss the tip, and linger there for a second, acting like you’re about to put him in your mouth, only to move away, kissing his hipbone next and stroking him with your hand. 

His grip tightens in your hair. Knowing he wants you to hurry up, you let go of him for a moment to spit in your hand before quickly returning to it. He groans a bit louder, head falling back a little as you gently twist your wrist, squeezing at the base of his cock. 

Finally, you lick him from the base to the head before wrapping your lips around him. His other hand balls up into a fist, but that’s the only reaction he gives away for now. You relax your jaw as much as you can, trying to accommodate his size before sinking down lower. You can taste his pre-cum in the back of your throat, coating your tongue. 

If you were annoyed with his apparent perfection before, you’re pissed now. How does he also taste good too? 

As if to get back at him somehow, you wrap your lips tighter around his cock and suck hard, which earns you a choked moan from him. You hum around him, amused and pleased with yourself. His hand shakes slightly as he pushes your hair back, the other one in your hair starting to guide you even further down. The tip hits the back of your throat and you gag on it, forcing yourself to relax and remember to breathe through your nose. 

“Fuck, baby…so good,” He groans, starting to struggle to keep his eyes open. 

The visual of you choking on his cock is better than he could’ve ever imagined it to be. You don’t try to fight against him when he pushes you down or pulls you back up, simply letting him use your throat as he wishes. Even though you’re gagging and your eyes are watering, you don’t try to pull off. Not even when he shoves you down, making you fit his entire length into your throat, and holds you there for ten seconds. The longest ten seconds of your life. Your nails dig into your thighs, creating angry red crescent-shaped indents in your skin. His cock twitches in your throat and you whimper, keeping your gag reflex at bay. When the ten seconds are up, he lets you pull off of him completely to catch your breath. 

You cough into your shoulder, one of your hands wrapping around him again to make sure he still feels good. San can't help but praise you, leaning down to kiss your forehead, cupping your face with his hand to make you look at him. It’s a subtle check-in moment. Nothing between you is said out loud, but he searches your face for any signs of discomfort or stress of any kind. He’s rather relieved to find none, only your glossy eyes staring back at him, lips parted and breath heavier than before. Ready to go again or continue on. 

Whatever he wants. 

San shivers as you gently twist your wrist again, returning your lips to the head of his dick, kitten-licking the pre-cum that still leaks out there. You hope he’ll cum in your mouth. A rare hope, as you’ve never quite enjoyed the taste of it before, but with his track record so far, you’re willing to bet you’ll enjoy it this time. To encourage this dream to happen, you spit onto the head of his cock twice, collecting some of it with your hand already around his length, and the rest with your mouth, swirling your tongue around the tip. 

You hear soft footsteps behind you, and naturally, your first instinct is to whip around to see who it is. Luckily, your conscience kicks in, reminding you of where you are, and you’re able to stop yourself before you can even move an inch. It’s probably one of the crew leaving the set, you figure. But it sounds close by. 

As if to prove you right, soon there’s a figure or a shadow looming just out of your peripheral vision on your left, holding something. To combat every urge within you to turn around, you close your eyes and steal another kiss from San, who lazily kisses you back. He doesn’t seem to mind that your lips are covered in spit and pre-cum. Not one bit. His groans have increased the more you stroke his cock, one of his hands grips the arm of the chair in an attempt to ground himself. Harder, faster, your wrist begins to burn from exertion, but determination keeps it going. You’ll get a damn brace if you need to. 

“God–” he grunts, looking down at your hand. 

“Want you to cum too,” you say, looking up at him, almost pleading. 

San’s eyes squeeze shut for just a moment, a full body shudder wracking through him before he is able to compose himself again. 

“And where do you want me to cum, kitten?” He asks, his volume raising slightly, caressing your cheek. 

“In my mouth, sir.” You reply, also loud enough for the microphones to pick up. 

He all but shoves you down. You barely have time to make sure your teeth aren’t grazing his dick with every bob of your head as his hand returns to your hair, guiding your movements once again. This time, with just a fraction less of his notorious self control. You’re able to keep up easily, sucking harder whenever you’re closer to the head of it, and using your tongue as much as you can. 

San swears under his breath, hissing at your previously unknown skill level. It takes every ounce of composure to not fuck your throat the way he wants to. He’d be so mean to you if you’d let him. He wouldn’t have kept himself down your throat for ten measly seconds, it would’ve been until you tried to push yourself off, desperate to breathe again. That would’ve been heavenly, to feel your throat constrict around his cock, in search of air. But not for the first scene together. 

If there’s a next time, maybe that’s when he’ll let go just a little more. Show that side of him and see how you cope with it. For now though, he’s content to just enjoy the sight of you taking him in your mouth, wanting to make him cum. And you’re damn near close to achieving that. 

He ignores the cameraman standing barely two feet from you, and leans back again, relaxing his body as his dick twitches incessantly in your mouth. Every time his tip hits the back of your throat, sparks of electricity shoot up his spine. 

“Fuck… ah, fuck, I’m gonna cum… mmf–” San moans, head tilting back against the chair. 

You don’t change anything about what you’re doing, just continuing until finally, he releases into your mouth. Just like you wanted him to. And it’s just as you predicted. The taste of it makes you want him to cum in your mouth again and again, surprisingly pleasant. Slightly bitter, yes, but not overly so. You swallow around him, not pulling off just yet. You won’t until you suck him dry, until he pushes you off from overstimulation. Maybe subconsciously, it’s because you know he loves to overstimulate his scene partners – a subtle payback for all of them. You try to hide your grin as you finally release him. Not a single drop wasted. You swallowed everything. 

San looks down at you through half-lidded eyes, fighting to keep his chest rising and falling in a steadier rhythm. You lick your lips just for good measure, and he snaps. 

His hands return to your face and the back of your head, pulling you towards him to kiss you deeply. You moan into his mouth as his tongue slips into yours, not caring in the slightest that can taste himself. As you straighten up on your knees, you can feel how wet you still are, and you can’t help but be a little surprised. You’ve never gotten wet from sucking dick before. If he finds out, it’ll go right to his ego, no doubt. 

But before he can, there’s an abrupt, loud clacking sound to your left, and at first, you think someone must have dropped something. San makes a quiet, irritated sound before pulling away, glancing towards the director. The cameraman right next to you moves away, going back over towards the others and adjusting something on his camera. You feel slow to catch up on what’s happening, looking back up at San for help. 

“We’re breaking for a second,” he explains, still out of breath. 

Ah. 

“Are you alright?” You ask him, without thinking. You’re not even sure why you asked that. 

San blinks, processing your question as well before nodding once, “Yeah… yeah, I’m good.” 

There’s a fleeting moment between you that you can’t describe. Something deeper than the scene now that you’re out of it. It’s the way he’s looking at you, void of any facade or persona meant for the cameras. Almost like he’s curious about something. 

No one ever really asks him if he’s alright. 

Just as quickly as the moment appears, it’s gone. You hear a flurry of movement and murmured conversations on your left as you sink back onto your heels, processing everything. Your eyes close as you try to focus on your breathing now that nothing is blocking your throat, deep inhales and slow exhales.  

“You okay?” San asks as well, eyebrows furrowing in what appears to be genuine concern. 

“‘M okay… honest.” You nod as you speak to emphasize that you’re truly alright. One more prolonged exhale, and you roll your shoulders back, heart-rate decelerating back to its default speed. One of your hands reaches up to massage your aching jaw. 

Opening your eyes again, you accidentally make eye contact directly to his cock, still right in front of your face. It’s laying against his stomach, still slightly twitching, but… not softening. At least not as much as you’d expect it to. Surely, he can’t still be hard after coming. However, at this point, you wouldn’t put it past him to have a practically nonexistent refractory period. Might as well tack it onto the list of things he has been blessed with in life. 

San runs a hand through his hair, looking over towards someone who must be talking to him. You watch his eyes follow them until you see for yourself who it is – one of the assistants that had been in his little circle when he first walked out of his dressing room. He hands him a robe, and quickly walks off. You feel a small nudge at your shoulder and find one of the other assistants – the one that had handed you the blanket earlier – extending a robe towards you. You take it gladly, your body heat crashing down again now that nothing is happening, and the frigid air conditioning reminding you why you asked for a blanket in the first place. He also gives you a water bottle with a straw poked through the plastic cap, and you drink it down gratefully. 

Director Choi calls over Youngmi and Rina, and they’re quickly by your side, touching up your hair and makeup. You scoot back a little on the floor, giving San some space as his own team descends around him. Still, through the quiet rush of activity separating the two of you, your eyes stay glued to him. 

Once the four hair and makeup girls leave, you hear Hongjoong from somewhere behind you. You both look towards his voice, standing near the director. A young woman you haven’t seen milling around the set before stands right next to him, also in a short silk robe almost identical to yours from what you can see of it past the lights. Your chest burns. She’s gorgeous, and seems to only get prettier the more you look at her. She looks between Hongjoong and San expectantly, as if waiting for a regular cue. Totally relaxed. You look back down at your hands in your lap, toying with the hem of your robe. It’s obvious what she’s there for. You wonder if she’s been watching the whole time as well. 

But San is quick to rid you of any worries. 

Actually, he seems a little annoyed as he waves Hongjoong and the woman off, before turning his attention back to you. He helps you stand up, slowly to ensure you won’t get dizzy, and leads you back over to sit on the foot of the bed. Back where you started, in your own little bubble together in front of the lights and the cameras.  

Once settled again, San tilts your head up, his pointer finger under your chin, and holds it there, effectively disrupting your train of thought. He can almost see the self-doubt threatening to cloud your mind, even if you try to hide it behind your on-camera mask. He simply won’t have it. His other hand cups your cheek, making sure you don’t try to look anywhere but at him right now. 

“‘M still hard for you, kitten,” he says quietly, just for you. He moves closer, his thumb running over your bottom lip. “Made me feel so fucking good… doing so well…” 

You can’t help but blush at his praise. He’s so attentive, it’s a little shocking. You expected him to be, due to the videos you watched, but off-camera as well? 

To thank him, you wrap your lips around his thumb, sucking on it lightly, maintaining eye contact with him the whole time. You want him to snap again. To just fuck you stupid already, to not wait for the production team to be ready. God, you just want to stop thinking and overthinking. You lean into the hand holding your cheek, humming at the comfort it provides. 

One of your hands wanders between you, trailing up his thigh. You want to feel it for yourself, even though the robe does little to conceal the truth in his statement. Nevertheless, your confidence is rekindled once more when you feel him through the silk, hard and ready for you. He hisses at the contact, resting his forehead against yours for a moment or two before straightening again. A low groan from him makes your thighs clench together. 

“Sorry, sir,” you whisper, grinning mischievously now that you’re the one teasing him.  

San laughs once, breathy and short. 

“You really have done your research on me, huh?” He smirks, watching you slowly move his robe aside to touch him properly. He tenses a little at the initial contact, but gradually relaxes again as his body gets used to it. 

You shrug, playing it cool. “Wanted to see what I was getting myself into,” the corners of your mouth twitch as you slowly stroke his cock, watching for his reactions. 

“And–” he clears his throat before continuing, “what do you think so far?” 

Your eyes flicker up to meet his, and you’re taken aback again by his genuineness. He’s not just asking to ask or to boost a sky-high ego, he really does want to know. Still, you want to keep him intrigued. Maybe you even want him to try and prove himself to you a bit.  

“Well… I’m still wet for you,” you admit, casting your eyes down towards your lap. “But I think I’ll give you a final verdict later.”  

San hums, remembering the taste of you, and how wet you were for him to start. His eyes trail downwards, towards your chest, which is slowly becoming more and more revealed as your robe loosens.     

“Deal,” he whispers, slowly leaning in to kiss you. 

Before he can though, you squeeze his member a little harder, your thumb circling the tip, making his mind nearly go blank. San shudders and leans back on his hands, his robe also loosening little by little, revealing his chest and the top of his abs to your hungry eyes again. He steals a quick glance over to the crew, before just taking matters into his own hands. 

As soon as his robe comes off, he tosses it in the camera’s direction. A rather obvious way of telling everyone the break is over. Director Choi quickly stands from his chair, shooing away a production assistant and waving another one over to collect the robes. You take yours off as well, tossing it onto his, and San eases you down onto your back, kissing you just as deeply as before. 

You shiver, finally underneath him once more. The promise of what’s to come thunders through your mind. He slots his knee in between your legs, keeping you open for him. You whine into his mouth when that knee raises slightly, pressing against your pussy. You can almost hear his smirk, confirming that you are indeed still wet for him. 

Well, he won’t make you wait any longer. 

And just in time too, because someone over on the left shouts, ‘Action!’. You feel kind of bad for stressing out the crew this much, but you can’t dwell on those guilty feelings when San is rubbing your clit again.

“Fuck… please…” you whimper, hips grinding up in search of something else.  

San moans, working himself up as he feels your pussy slicking all over his knee.  

“Are they gonna stop us again?” You ask, whispering in his ear. 

“They better fucking not,” San breathes, pressing one more kiss to your cheek before pushing himself up, spreading your legs further apart so he can kneel between them. 

You prop yourself up on your elbows again, intent on watching. You clench around nothing as he grips himself, angling his dick down towards your pussy. Every muscle in your body locks in anticipation and impatience. Your brain goes haywire just at the sight of his cock near where you need him most, knowing he’ll stretch you out, and knowing that you probably won’t last too long with his size. Hopefully, you won’t cum as soon as he bottoms out. 

San presses the tip to your hole, and you hold your breath. It’s so big, but you’re ready. You’re definitely wet enough to help get him inside without any help from spit or lube. Nevertheless, he spits right on your clit, pausing to make you feel it drip down through your folds. He taps the head of his cock against your clit a couple times, greedily watching your reactions. 

And much to your despair, he doesn’t push inside just yet. Instead, he drags his cock up and down your pussy. Slowly. Forcing you to feel every inch of it, just not where you need it. Your clit is so sensitive, every time he rubs up against it, you can’t help but whine pathetically. 

San hums, mocking you. “Hm? What’s wrong, kitten?” 

“Please fuck me already,” you exhale, whimpering at yet another tap of his cock against your clit. 

“Louder,” he instructs, not just to make you beg for it again, but also so the microphones pick it up. You’d forgotten all about them again, to be honest. “Ask me properly.” 

Another shiver runs through you, and you gasp when you feel the head of his cock return to your entrance. Just barely enough so you can feel it’s there. But it’s enough motivation. You spread your legs further apart to convince him, holding them up and back by hooking your arms around your knees. Fully exposed to his eyes, open and ready to be filled. 

“Please, sir, please fuck me. Want it so ba–” 

Your voice is cut off by a choked noise as he finally pushes into you. Quickly, you look down, watching him breach you. All of your air is punched out of you as he stretches you out, sinking deeper and deeper, inch by inch. He takes over the task of keeping your legs apart, and he stills for a second to give your body time to adjust to him. He’s just barely halfway in, and your brain already feels like mush. 

Maybe it’s a good thing because the same cameraman from before comes back, aiming the camera right at you two. Your body is so tense from the intrusion that you can’t look towards him, even by accident.

San swears under his breath, watching his cock disappearing into you as well. 

“So fucking tight… god, baby…” he grunts, adjusting his knees slightly closer to your ass so he can feed you more of his length. 

One of his hands tilts your chin up again, silently telling you to hold eye contact with him. His eyes flicker down only for a split second. 

Then he shoves the rest of his cock inside. 

A mix of a gasp and a yelp punches its way out of you. Your whole body is like a livewire. Alert, teetering on an electric edge. Your hands grip the sheets next to you, biting your lip. You can feel everything. Every inch, every vein dragging against your walls when he slowly pulls it back again. You both crave and dread the next time he pushes in, knowing it’s going to feel so overwhelmingly good. 

The realization hits you like a ton of bricks. You’re close to coming already. 

Wide-eyed, all you can do is stare up at him as he rolls his hips into yours. Your walls flutter around him, legs already beginning to shake. There’s no hiding it anymore. 

Amused, San leans down, pushing your legs back even more, deepening the stretch. He groans as your pussy contracts around him tight, wanting more. 

“What, kitten? Already?” San smirks, a windfall of pride rushing through him. As if he needed any more validation for how good at this he is.

Your face burns, having been found out. 

The next roll of his hips is sinfully languid, taking his time. Then, he really betrays you. One of his hands leaves the back of your thigh and he uses his thumb to rub your clit. You yelp, body buzzing from pleasure, and he takes this time to start fucking you properly, thrusting into you in a steady rhythm. 

“Mm, that’s it,” he says, twisting his wrist so he can rub your clit with two fingers instead. “Let me feel it.” 

You’re starting to think all you need in order to cum is for him to tell you to do it. Your second orgasm of the evening is a bit stronger than the first one because of the addition of penetration. It makes you feel very floaty once it hits, clenching around his cock in order to prolong it. 

Unlike last time, he gives you no recovery period. The second he sees your eyes refocus, he’s fucking into you again. Like he never stopped. Your hands grip his shoulders, knowing you’re in for it. The tags for this future video flash through your mind, overstimulation being one. You lay flat on your back now, unable to keep holding yourself up as another strong wave of pleasure crashes into you. A third orgasm building up again. 

His fingers on your clit press down harder, making tight circles over the sensitive bud. He only relents for a second, just to hook your legs over his shoulders, letting him get even deeper inside of you. Your eyes roll back for a moment, whining at the feeling. Your hands try to push at his chest, to make him stop, to make him straighten up, you’re not entirely sure yourself. 

There’s no energy behind your actions, but San still subtly checks in. “Feel good, kitten?” 

You choke on another moan, his cock getting dangerously close to hitting your g-spot. “Mm- I’m– good, feels s-so good.” 

“Yeah? You liked coming on my cock?” 

“Yes…” 

“Yes, what?” San punctuates his question by ramming into you hard, unexpectedly. 

You’re quick to correct yourself, “Y-yes, sir!”

“There you go,” he brushes some hair away from your face, “my good girl.” 

Your body melts at the praise, replaying it over and over again as the feeling builds up higher and higher. You don’t realize until San winces that your nails started to dig into his chest, leaving some red scratch marks in your wake. As soon as you see that, you instantly take your hands away, feeling so bad that you’ve hurt him unknowingly. 

But he puts them right back where they were. 

And he leans down to your neck to return the favor, biting and sucking the skin there to create dark red and purple bruises wherever he can. His thrusts become more powerful, angling down into you to make you see stars. The simmering heat in your stomach is stoked with each direct hit to your g-spot. It’s getting to be more of a challenge to breathe normally like this.

Especially as your third orgasm begins to crest. 

“‘M coming–” you warn him, but he knows already. He can feel it. 

He hovers over you, moving his hips precisely and slightly faster. He wants to watch you again. To see you fall apart for him again. Truthfully, he already feels a bit pussy-drunk. Starting to get addicted to the feeling of your warm, wet cunt wrapped so tightly around him, coming for him so prettily. And you don’t disappoint him the third time either. 

You’re loud this time, unable to control your volume. The third orgasm hits you like a truck, and it only builds higher and higher instead of gradually diminishing. You cry out, halfway through it. Something feels unfinished about it, and you’re desperate to chase it. Luckily, San knows exactly what you need. 

He quickly lowers your legs from his shoulders, jumping right into action to catch this. Your legs are held back, like the previous position they were in, and he returns his other hand to your lower stomach, pressing down hard. You can feel him moving inside of you. Your head falls back and you moan loudly, suddenly feeling everything tenfold. 

The sound is obscene, definitely pornographic. Wet, sloshing sounds, accompanied by your loud cries and moans fill the warehouse-like room of the eighth floor. His cock prods your g-spot every single time, building something insanely powerful that you’ve never felt before. You grab his wrist, looking up at him with slight fear in your eyes, but he doesn’t seem concerned. He’s determined, if anything. 

“Good girl,” he purrs, so affectionately it makes your brain melt. 

He adjusts his hand on your stomach just a little further down. At the same time that you feel him rubbing your clit again, he ducks down to suck on one of your nipples, and fireworks explode behind your eyelids. The quadruple stimulation makes you scream. 

“Gonna make a mess for me, kitten? Yeah? Gonna cum all over my cock again?” 

You don’t even have time to nod or reply in any way. A strong surge of pleasure smashes into you from all sides, whiting out your vision. It’s a feeling of release unlike any other that you’ve felt before, much harder than any orgasm you’ve ever had. He keeps fucking you through it until your pussy forces him out, watching your body shake uncontrollably underneath him, soaking the sheets below you, and his lower body. Now you know damn well what kind of ‘rough’ you’ll be getting from him: overstimulation. Making you cum until you beg him to stop. 

San growls at the sight. It burns into his brain, and he can already say for certain that he’ll be jerking off to the memory of this later tonight and for days to come. 

Just to prolong it, he taps his heavy cock against your pussy and clit again, enjoying how you try to squirm away from it. 

You’re so wet, it’s audible. Every tap is loud, and a thin, stringy mixture of his spit and your slick clings to him for as long as it can whenever he pulls away. You reach for him, not knowing exactly what you want, but knowing you want him closer to you, and he obliges. He leans down over you again, slowly sliding his length between your puffy, wet folds. 

A familiar, faint voice from the left is ignored totally by you and him, too busy coming down from the most intense high of your life, and him holding you through it.  

An aftershock rattles you from head to toe, and you gasp when you feel it. The intense pleasure you felt gives way to sudden emptiness, and you realize you do not have anything to clench down on anymore. Though his dick is right there, dragging up and down your outer lips, it feels so far away from where you actually want it. 

Thankfully, sensing your dilemma – and hearing you whine for it – he doesn’t make you wait any longer. In your post-orgasmic haze, he guides you over onto all fours, now facing the foot of the bed. Ever the gentleman, he moves your hair out of your face. However, you imagine it’s so the camera can see your fucked out, dazed expression. 

His cock slips back inside of you easily, without any resistance, and the two of you groan in unison. In both relief and pleasure.  

That familiar, faint voice comes back. Clearer this time, and closer as well. “San… San! We’re taking another break now.” 

San kisses your shoulder blade, barely paying attention. “Okay, have fun,” he brushes the voice off, impatiently. 

You’d laugh if you had any coherent thoughts or spare energy left. No, you’re a bit preoccupied at the moment, your body trembling around his cock, and so happy that he’s pushed back into you. Truthfully, you don’t even care if you’re stressing out the crew anymore. All of your thoughts are about San. 

San smooths a hand up your spine, slowly pushing inch by inch into your soaked hole. He shushes you gently when you whimper, interlacing his fingers with yours when you try to reach back to find his hand to hold.  

“I know, kitten, it’s okay. Just relax.”

Easier said than done. 

He lightly presses your lower back, signalling you to arch it for him a little more. You nearly regret it when you feel him deeper than before in this position. Your elbows threaten to buckle, body shaking like a leaf. Yet, you still want more. Even though you’re nearing a certain point, wavering between overexertion and exhaustion, you crave more. You want to chase that feeling with him again. Make him glad he asked you to come here. Make him come back for more. So, you grit your teeth and keep yourself from face-planting into the mattress. For now, at least.  

San’s powerful pace resumes in no time, stealing every breath from your lungs. Another vague, quiet plea falls from your lips, and in response, he squeezes your hips, pulling them back to meet every thrust. Your throat is raw from all the noise you’re making, and you know you’ll have to drink some tea or honey tonight to get your voice back to normal. Not this thin, broken voice you have now. Your lower back aches from staying in this position, but you do your best to ignore it. 

It helps that his cock is basically in your stomach, that does a lot to distract you from a mere ache in your back. It also helps that your pussy is extra sensitive, coming three times – twice in a row without a break – and squirting for the first time. On camera, no less. Your viewers are going to lose their fucking minds. The image of your donation box on your livestreams, and your Venmo accounts skyrocketing after this video releases is motivation enough for you to want him to make you do it again. 

Your back arches even more, hips grinding back against his to get more of him somehow. 

Such a little natural.     

“Mmm, there you go. That’s it. Keep fucking yourself on my cock, pretty girl.” 

You make a noise, halfway between a whine and a moan and do as he says. Your chest grazes the sheets below you, chin buried into the mattress and arms gripping the edge of the bed in front of you. 

“Fuck,” you whimper, a couple of stray tears threatening to fall. “You’re s-so fucking deep.” 

San groans, increasing the pace. You yelp when you feel him smack your ass, and again when he hits it a second and third time. By the time the third strike lands, he doesn’t even give you any time to process the stinging pain he’s left behind before there’s a new one on the back of your head. 

Slightly dizzy, it takes you a second to realize you’re upright, on your knees. One hand tangled in your hair, pulling at the roots, and the other rubbing incessant circles on your swollen clit. His chest presses into your back, and he moves your head to face him so he can kiss you again. Mind threatening to wipe completely, you can’t fight to hold back your tears anymore. You shudder violently, and he groans as he feels your body struggle to keep up with him. He knows you can take it, though. You’re a fighter, he can tell. 

“Doing so well,” he whispers in your ear, “such a good girl for me, baby. Knew you would be. Knew I’d get this pussy to fall apart on my dick. Thought about it so fucking much…”

You whine against his mouth, tears wetting his face now as well. The blatant admission that he had thought about you like this before today goes straight over your head. 

All you hear is his praise. You’re doing well. Good enough for him, like you were so stressed about being. Nothing else matters to you anymore, now that you’ve earned his approval. A proud smile creeps across your face, and he grins at the faraway look in your half-lidded eyes. You’re so far gone. Completely pleasure-drunk.  

The hand in your hair tightens again and loosens, like it’s an afterthought now. Just something for him to hold onto. To keep you steady, if anything. Warm pressure building and building again in your stomach, you round your back as another shiver wracks its way through your body, making your spine tingle. His hand moves down to hold you by the back of the neck, and he slows his pace just enough to guide you back down onto the bed. This time, totally flat. Your pussy forces him out at this new position, but his other hand is quick to spread one of your ass cheeks apart, cock sliding back inside of you. 

He doesn’t ease you into his pace anymore. The first brutal thrust makes your eyes roll back, and your jaw falls open. Your nails claw at the bedding, every muscle in your arms straining while you hold onto the fabric for dear life.   

He’s so fucking deep. Impossibly, almost. 

He may just make you cum like this, without even needing to touch your clit. He’s making you learn so much about what your body can do when in the right hands. No wonder people are so obsessed with him. He’s become so in tune with your body so quickly, just by paying explicit attention to you this whole time. It makes you really appreciate his expertise, because he could easily have just used what has worked for other girls in the past. He probably could’ve made you cum like that as well, but he tailors himself for each girl. Adapts for them. For you. 

And he’s learning you pretty well. Probably read you like a fucking book. 

Every precisely angled thrust punches a moan out from deep within your chest. Each sound is partly muffled by the bedding, and you try to keep quiet, not wanting to be annoying. You can’t help it, though. Not when it feels this good. Certainly not when another orgasm is building, more rapidly than the others. 

You squirm under him, toes curling and nails digging into the mattress. 

“I– mmf–! You’re… you’re gonna make me cum again,” you have to speak quickly before it hits you. 

San leans over you, hands planted right next to your shoulders, fucking you harder. “Give it to me, pretty girl. I want every fucking drop.” 

Someone dressed in all black stands right in front of you, pointing something towards you. It doesn’t register that it’s the camera guy with the handheld camera for a couple seconds. You imagine he’s zooming in, capturing everything. He must know the future audience does not want to miss a single second of how you react to coming again, and how San won’t let up on you once you do… again. 

Your eyes shut tight once your fourth climax thunders through you. Pure ecstasy erupts in every vein. Euphoria clouds your brain. The sheets beneath you two become even more soaked, and you can feel your release dripping down your thighs. You must’ve been loud because your throat feels scratchy and rough all of a sudden, but your head is in such a rush that you don’t even hear anything. 

San holds you by your throat now, making you keep your face up. 

Just as you predicted, San doesn’t stop or slow his pace whatsoever. True to his promise that he’s ‘gonna make you feel so good’. Well, that promise is currently turning you into a limp, fucked out mess. You’ve never had this many orgasms so quick in succession before. It’s making your hormones go absolutely wild, and you cry harder, wetting San’s hand with your tears. The camera loves it. 

There are some sounds near you that you can’t be bothered to discern, and you just lean into San’s hand on your throat. Fully intent on just letting him do whatever he wants to you at this point. He pretty much already is. Although, you’re not entirely sure how many more times you can cum without passing out. You hope he’ll stop before that happens. You don’t want to embarrass yourself like that. 

San subtly taps your throat, getting your attention, before raising your head a little higher. 

You blink stupidly up at the cameraman in front of you, eyes half-lidded and heavy, struggling to keep them open. You flinch a little when you see that there are two more people in front of you, the director included. When did everyone get so much closer to the bed? All of them, you notice, are at least semi-hard. Director Choi nods behind the camera, muttering inaudible praises. Your hands grip the sheets, knuckles turning white, and pull them up towards your mouth to muffle your screams. Out of frame, Director Choi motions for an assistant to pull the sheets down, ripping your comfort away, exposing how loud you’re being. Tears sting your eyes, both from exertion and from the intense pleasure San is giving you. 

“Pussy’s so good… so tight and wet… could fuck you forever.” 

Director Choi silently motions for San to keep talking like that. 

San grunts, fighting to catch his breath enough to speak again. “Such a good girl… gonna make you cum again.” 

And he does. 

Before you even realize that it’s been simmering and building, it knocks into you sideways. This time, you can’t even scream. Your mouth drops open but no sound comes out due to your body locking up. San releases your throat, worried that you’re not breathing – and he’s right. He slows down considerably, moving your hair away from your face to check on you. Your body slowly relaxes again underneath him, one muscle at a time, and a low, guttural groan tears itself from your throat. 

You can feel every inch of him dragging past your inner walls, and every slightest movement makes your pussy clench, trying to simultaneously push him out and suck him in further. Instead of continuing again, though, he pushes all the way into you one more time, and then stops. 

It’s somehow both torture and a relief. You feel so fucking full, but he isn’t doing anything to continue the dull flames that engulf your lower stomach, and yet you know it’s better than being empty. He could pull out, leave you to deal with that emptiness before you felt ready. He doesn’t. Appreciative thoughts swirl around your head and you cry harder, trying to hide your tears in the sheets. 

When the camera crew and director see that he’s not continuing, they call for another break. Everyone moves away, and there’s no longer a black cloud in front of you. 

San doesn’t move an inch, though.  

He brushes through your hair with his fingers, comforting you. He’s intent on waiting until you calm down, not wanting to push you too far before you’re ready. He knows he went a little crazy, instantly getting addicted to the feeling of you coming around his dick, and you deserve a break. As long as you need. 

But you’re addicted yourself. A real glutton for the pleasure he’s given you thus far. You push back and wiggle against him, trying to get him to move again. His hands push you down by your hips, keeping them still. You whine at the denial, looking over your shoulder at him with teary, red eyes. He almost gives in. 

“I know, baby. Just relax with me for a moment.” 

You pout, another tear roaming down your cheek. Deep down, you know he’s right. Your body has been pleading for a break two orgasms ago. It’s high time you listen to it. You collapse, finally letting yourself relax, solely focusing on the quiet murmur of the crew off to the side, and San’s fingers running through your hair. 

It’s a nice moment.  

Nicer still when San litters your shoulders and back with gentle kisses, helping you calm down. Clearer thoughts slowly begin to reenter your mind, and your breaths even out, relatively back to normal. Better than the mixture of shallow inhales, long periods of holding your breath, and gasps for air. Because of the improved air intake, your head finally feels like it’s stopped swimming. Little by little, your energy comes back. 

You take a deep inhale, sighing contently as you exhale it back out. Looking behind you again, you catch him already watching you. 

“Hi,” you mumble, half-smiling.

San smirks, his hand cupping your cheek. “Hey, pretty girl. Feel okay?” 

You nod, humming, and you subtly push back against him. The feeling of his cock pressing into you doesn’t shock your body as much as it did before. Now it’s a welcome, familiar feeling. Sought after. You really are addicted. Maybe even insatiable when it comes to how well he fucks you. 

With the other hand, he places a water bottle in front of your face, the same one with a straw poked through the cap from before. You don’t bother wondering where he got it from. You have a pretty good idea. They’re always everywhere during a break. 

Once you’re done with the bottle, he places it against one of the pillows, where it will no doubt be collected by a production assistant within seconds. 

You push back again, trying to get him to move. You hear him chuckle behind you. 

“Greedy little thing, aren’t you?” 

Instead of contradicting his statement, you just nod. Why lie? 

“Wanna make you cum too,” 

San hums, just barely rolling his hips into yours. “How do you wanna do that, kitten?” 

You steel yourself for what you’re about to do. Hoping he will let you go through with your plan, you pull yourself away from him, and he slips out of you. The emptiness hits just as hard as you thought it would, and you whimper at the initial feeling. If all goes to plan, you won't be for long. 

San watches you carefully as you turn to face him on the bed, gently pushing him back against the pillows. His hands instinctually rest on your hips as you straddle him, and he looks up at you, patiently waiting for your next move. At least, coming across as patient externally. You don’t miss how his dick twitches, eager to be engulfed by your warmth again. He must feel something equivalent to the emptiness you felt when you pulled away. 

You’ll fix that gladly. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see the crew start to come back to their spots – lights, camera, microphones. They must have learned not to stay too far away when it comes to filming you two. You do your best to hide your grin. 

San helps you line up the head of his cock to your entrance, and you steady yourself with your hands on his shoulders as you slowly sink down. His eyes flutter shut, eyebrows furrowing as he exhales shakily. Following his lead, you don’t give him much time to adjust before you start moving. 

You swear you hear him whimper. Just once, but you catch it nevertheless. 

He keeps his eyes down, locked between you, watching your cunt swallow his dick over and over again. You bite your lip, nails digging into his shoulders as his hands become more firm on your hips. The next time you sink down, he pulls you down hard. You gasp, not expecting it, and he attacks your lips once again. 

You kiss him back just as eagerly, increasing your pace. Your thighs already start to protest from the strain, but you can’t bring yourself to care or stop. Not when he’s moaning into your mouth like this. Every noise you pull out of him is pure music to your ears. A rhapsody you could hear a thousand times and not get bored of. You pull away from his lips just to hear him clearer, and he chases you. He nips your bottom lip, one of his hands slowly travelling up to knead one of your boobs again. 

Breaths mingling, you shiver in his hold. His other hand dips down to rest on your ass, squeezing the flesh there as you bounce on his cock. 

The heat of it all consumes you, drives you to get him to cum. You want to hear him. You want to repay him for making you cum four times, and put in just as much effort. 

It’s a battle to try and ignore your own pleasure, building up for a fifth time. You’re not convinced you can cum again. However, now you’re willing to see what happens. If you faint, you faint. 

You clench around him on purpose, grinding into him and rolling your hips, your gummy walls massaging his length and successfully driving him crazy. His head falls back against the headboard, and his fingers begin to leave bruises on your skin. 

“So fucking good,” he hisses, “such a good girl… gonna make me cum so hard.” 

The thought and image that accompanies it gives you a second wind of energy. Your hands move to his chest, and you press down as you continue to fuck him. 

“Want you to cum inside me,” you beg him, hot breath hitting his neck. You feel him shudder underneath you. 

San only nods, unable to speak. You lick a stripe up his neck, tasting the slight saltiness of his sweat and kissing the hinge of his jaw. Right next to his ear, you moan again, enjoying how he tenses up. 

Suddenly, both of his arms are wrapped around your waist, and he sits up a little more. One of his hands presses into your upper back, supporting you as he starts fucking up into you, seamlessly matching your rhythm. 

He lets out a choked moan, cutting it off by kissing you one more time before his eyes shut tight. 

“Gonna cum…fuck, I’m gonna cum so deep inside you, kitten. Gonna feel me for days.” 

You whine at his words, and he seems to have worked himself up further by saying it as well. 

“Please, sir, need your cum inside of me. Please give it to me–” 

San pushes you down onto your back before you can blink. Your legs wrap around him, and the pleasure increases for you almost instantaneously. When you look down, you swear you can see a slight bulge in your stomach. His lips attach to your neck, sucking and biting to muffle his moans as much as possible. Every sound he makes is so pretty. 

He pounds into you without any more room for mercy, concentrating on coming again. And he can feel that you’re close again too. 

“Cum with me,” he pants against your neck, “give me one more. Let me feel your pretty cunt cum on my cock one more time, baby.”          

One more. You nod, eyelids growing heavy again. Everything is perfect in this moment. The feeling of his cock dragging against your walls, the head of it pressing against your g-spot and fanning the flames of your arousal until it engulfs you like wildfire; his soft, plush lips on your neck, his words in your ear, and his warm, firm skin under your hands. 

As if that all wasn’t enough, San spits on his fingers and starts to rub your clit again. 

Everything adds up to push you over the edge. 

You cry out, body completely spent as you weakly squirt for him again. You can hear your heartbeat pounding in your ears, adrenaline and euphoria taking turns to run through your bloodstream. The sheets beneath you are completely soaked through. Every sense is both heightened and dulled. Exhaustion pulls itself over you like a weighted blanket. 

And your climax triggers his.

True to his word, he comes deep inside of you, filling you up until it’s leaking. The additional warmth is comforting for a second, until your stomach begins to cramp a little bit. Not enough to hurt, but just enough for you to notice. You’re definitely not used to coming this much. 

San shudders violently before dropping to his elbows, careful not to crush you under his weight. Both of you catch your breaths, chests heaving as you coax air back into your lungs. You tangle one of your hands in his hair, holding him close to you as you take this moment to settle down. He buries his face in your neck, small, audible sighs occasionally escaping him. 

Unbeknownst to you, he’s never cum that hard before. Years of experience behind him, sure, he’s gotten close to this level, but never was able to reach it until now. 

Reluctantly, he slowly drags himself out of your pussy, eyes immediately glancing down to see his cum leaking out. He smirks as he watches you fight to keep it inside, not wanting to let it go yet. 

Then, like he does every single time, he ducks down to lick one more long, slow path up your pussy. Entrance to clit. A silent ‘thank you’. You whimper, legs closing when he pulls away. 

“Cut! Print it.” 

And he’s gone. 

You feel you just got a violent slap back into reality. 

What…just happened? You slowly push yourself up, with admittedly great difficulty. 

Half of the staff flutter around you, while the others flock to San’s side, covering him up in his robe and starting to lead him towards his dressing room. The production assistants assigned to you don’t say much, handing you the same water bottle as before and urging you to drink it all. You watch the cameraman and the director talk, leisurely packing everything up. Just another day at the office. It’s all over just like that. 

Meanwhile, you feel… stunned. Maybe even a little empty, and not just physically this time. You never thought about how aftercare is pretty much nonexistent in shoots like this. Everything is strictly business. Professional. Void of any emotion for the other ‘actor’. Still, as someone runs a brush through your messy hair, and someone else wraps a silk robe over your shoulders, you find that you cannot tear your gaze away from the direction of San’s dressing room door. Your eyes threaten to tear up, a dull yet powerful feeling of rejection blooming in your chest. 

Maybe you aren’t cut out for this type of thing, no matter how many offers you receive. Not if this is how it ends, as if nothing happened. Like none of it mattered. Another notch in Choi San’s belt. 

Director Choi suddenly appears in front of you, and you’re quick to act like nothing is wrong. “You did great,” he says, “thank you for your time today.” 

You manage a fake smile and thank him as well, apologizing for any issues you may have caused by being impatient or loud. 

He simply waves it off, “Happens more than you think. Have a good rest of your night, Miss Y/L/N. Maybe we’ll work together again in the future.” 

‘Maybe’. 

His words stick to you, gnawing at your skin like leeches. He truly didn’t mean to make you feel worse, you know that, and yet he really drove home just how… common you feel. Not special whatsoever after all. 

You imagine going back home and going live again. The notorious four exclusive viewers will want to know how it went, and you’re going to have to tell them something. You doubt you’ll be able to lie. Woo will probably be able to tell something’s wrong. 

Maybe, once this check hits, you can just disappear for the foreseeable future. If you’re astronomically lucky, everyone will forget it happened so you won’t have to relive the very tail end of it. You run a hand through your hair. You’re so fucking dramatic.

It hurts a little extra when even Hongjoong doesn't stick around to check in on you, tending to his star first and foremost. You can’t say you really blame him, though – that is his job. San should be his priority. 

It’s just that you desperately wish for a friendly face, or someone to genuinely check in with you. Comfort you. 

Not to be surrounded by strangers who won’t look you in the eye.  

· · ─────── ·☆· ─────── · ·

You’re not sure what the plan is. 

You don’t even know if he’s still here. But here you are, standing in front of his dressing room door like a fucking idiot. Another girl obsessed with him. Nothing new, just another number they’ll have to delete. 

Even so, you want to try and talk to him. Ask him why the fuck he left in such a hurry. Your hands readjust their grip on your purse, with half a mind to swing it at whoever opens the door. 

Gathering up all the courage imaginable, your hand raises in a fist, and you softly knock on the door three times. 

To be honest, you’re not really expecting a response. Half of the staff are gone already, it’s unlikely that he’d want to stick around here any longer than he has to. When you checked the time on your phone in your dressing room, you were surprised to see that it’s already nearing nine o’clock. Your stomach had growled almost immediately upon seeing it. You look over your shoulder, watching the rest of the staff still here turning off some of the lights and gathering wires.    

Distracted, you jump about a mile in the air when the door opens, revealing San, now also dressed and looking like he’s ready to leave. His eyebrows raise in surprise at the sight of you. 

“Hey,” he says, so casually. “What’re you still doing here?” 

Embarrassment hits you like a brick wall. Yep, just another girl on the callsheet that stuck around to beg him for more. Ugh. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t want to bother you,” you say, already giving up on the whole idea of confronting him. Britney can’t help you now. 

You start to turn on your heel, but he opens the door wider, stepping aside as if to invite you in. “No, no. Not bothering me. What’s up?” 

Your mouth dries. Okay, now you got to follow through. But god… does he really not know? You wonder if this has never come up before. If all of the girls before you are just collectively tougher than you emotionally and can handle no aftercare, no follow up, nothing. You should be, too, honestly. You know what porn is and what it isn’t. It’s not exactly a dating service. Two hot people fuck each other and go their separate ways, money wired to them before their heads hit the pillow at night. 

Still… you and Yeosang aren’t dating, and after your collab with him, he redressed you and cuddled you for an hour straight. He made sure you knew he wasn’t going anywhere, that the friendship is still intact. You weren’t being used. 

You hesitate to step into his dressing room, and ultimately decide to just stay put. Stand your ground. You don’t want to take too long, you just need an answer. 

Out with it. 

“I was just wondering why you left so quickly? Did I do something to offend you in any way?”  

San blinks, slight confusion clouding his face. “Oh, no, I just– I saw your form. Didn’t want to hang around and make you uncomfortable.” 

Now you stare at him, just as confused. “Wait, what? What about my form?” 

“You checked off ‘Hard No’ to aftercare.”  

…Pardon? 

No way. 

He must see the bewilderment in your face because he fishes his phone out of his pocket to show you. 

“Yeah, Hongjoong said…” he trails off, the light of his phone screen reflecting in his dark brown eyes. “Yeah, look.” 

He holds his phone up to show you, and you step closer to it, squinting to see for yourself. Sure enough, amidst all of the other dozens of checkmarks, you accidentally fucked yourself over and selected ‘Hard No’ for aftercare. Luckily, you didn’t select one of the bodily fluid options as a ‘Hard Yes’ in your evident past confusion. You bury your face in your hands. 

“Oh my god. That was meant to be a ‘Hard Yes’.” You groan. Guilt threatens to eat you alive for all your negative thoughts towards him, and the texts you sent Yeosang while in your dressing room after the fact. You’re going to have to do some serious damage control to get Yeosang to not hate him forever. It’ll surely start with a screenshot of the form you fucked up, followed by a dramatic statement of your stupidity. 

San pockets his phone again, almost sheepish. He hesitantly steps closer to you, unsure of how to fix this. 

“I’m so sorry,” he says quietly, “I should’ve double checked with you.” 

“No, no, please don’t blame yourself when it’s my own mistake.” 

“Still…” he trails off, looking down at the floor. 

It hits you that he’s really hurt by this. Hurt for you. 

“San…” you tilt your head to try and meet his eye. “It’s alright, really. I feel much better now that I know it wasn’t on purpose or because I did something wrong.” 

“I’d never do that to you, or anybody. I always stress how important aftercare is to the directors I work with so they don’t try to rush through it.” San runs a hand through his freshly-washed hair as he speaks, exasperated. You vaguely remember him saying something akin to that in one of the interviews that you watched. 

Damn, he really is nice. Here you were at the start of this, thinking he’d be a cocky son of a bitch who has the world at his feet, and anything he wants within arms reach. The last two parts of that description may be right, but your assumed attitude is definitely not. Well… maybe not entirely. The cockiness isn’t used to make anyone feel small, that’s the important difference. It’s confidence, more than anything. 

“I know,” you smile, trying to make him feel better. “Really, it’s okay.” 

He seems unconvinced. “Can I make it up to you in some way?” 

You shift your weight from one foot to the other. If you wouldn’t immediately cringe at yourself for doing so, you’d maybe ask for a hug or something. Physical contact in any way to comfort you, make you believe it. But the guilt he obviously feels is enough. The knowledge that he truly thought it’s something you were so against, and he respected it anyway, is more than enough. 

“You don’t have to, San.” 

“I want to, Y/N.” 

Your pulse skips a beat, wondering what he has in mind. The way he said it was so final, like he made up his mind already. His phone reappears in his hand, texting someone quickly and sending it off. He then reaches into his dressing room, turning off the light after doing a quick scan of it and closing the door behind him. 

“Can I walk you out?” 

That, you’ll allow. 

“Sure. Are you going home?” You ask, changing the subject as the two of you start walking towards the exit doors. 

“Nah, not yet. There’s a gym on this floor I’m gonna go to first.” 

You just nod in response, wondering how on earth he has the energy to go to the gym right now. You have a very special date with your bed for the foreseeable future. It’s highly doubtful that you’ll wake up before three in the afternoon. Truthfully, you can’t wait. Maybe you’ll sleep off some of the soreness you’re sure to have tomorrow. 

“Oh, by the way, do you have an agent?” San asks you out of nowhere, right before you get to the doors. 

You blink once. Twice, processing. “No…?” 

Yeosang’s the only one who may even come close. He’s the one you ask before doing anything, wanting his opinion and blessing. But technically and professionally, no, you’re an independent artist as far as you’re concerned. 

“I’d find one soon,” San says, glancing towards the bed, soaked through. “You’re about to get a lot of offers.” 

You blush furiously, reminded of everything that transpired between you barely an hour ago. “Maybe I should just take yours.” 

San groans, “Honestly, do it. I’m sure Joong could use a break from my bullshit.” 

You laugh, trying to hide it with your hand. San pretends to be offended that you agree, clutching his heart in betrayal, which makes you laugh harder. The doors push open, the white fluorescent lights blinding both of you after being so used to the golden studio lights on set. 

“Maybe I will let you have him,” he says, a smirk growing across his face. “It’s good manners.” 

He looks at you like he knows something you don’t, and it bothers you. The word choice sounds familiar, but you can’t place it. Before you can ask, he steps closer to you, invading your personal space for the first time since being intimate with each other. You hold your breath. 

“Goodnight, baby.” He murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead before walking down towards the opposite end of the hallway, where you can only assume is the direction of the gym. 

Fuckin’ hell… 

You stand there like an idiot for another couple of seconds, still processing what just happened in the span of five minutes. You also try to figure out the implication behind his word choice. ‘Manners’. It bugs you so much, you know you heard something about it recently, but can’t pinpoint where or when. 

The question of what he meant follows you all the way to the lobby. You press the down button on autopilot, just now remembering to text the driver to tell him that you’re ready to be picked up downstairs and taken home. From down the hallway, you hear the door to the studio swing open again – probably some of the crew heading home as well. You glance towards the stairs, not exactly jumping at the chance to be stuck in an elevator with a bunch of strangers who watched you have sex an hour ago. 

But the footsteps that follow the sound of the door closing are what gives you pause. They’re hurried, and headed towards the lobby. The elevator dings behind you. You turn around just as the mystery runner comes around the corner. 

“Oh! Hi, Mr. Kim–”  

Hongjoong jogs over to you, catching you before the elevator doors open. 

“Sorry if I startled you. San is wondering if we can arrange another collab, but this time on your livestream.” He speaks quickly, like time is of the essence.  

You stutter, brain trying to connect with your vocal cords. 

“What?” You ask, even though you heard and processed everything Hongjoong said just fine. You’re just wondering if you actually heard him right. Today just keeps getting stranger and stranger. More interesting, definitely. 

He’s quick to repeat himself, almost pleading with his eyes for you to say ‘yes’. 

At least with the emails you had some time to think everything over. Now Hongjoong is staring dead at you, waiting for the response he hopes to hear. 

You can’t help it. You want to make him chase you again. 

“Tell him I’ll think about it,” you say as sweetly as possible, stepping into the elevator. 

You try not to enjoy the perplexed look on Hongjoong’s face until the doors close completely. 

· · ─────── ·☆· ─────── · ·

You have no idea how he does it, truly. 

Everything in his world is immediate. You’re not used to it whatsoever. 

Those are the thoughts you have as you step out of the elevator in your apartment building, walking up to your door. You're more than ready to throw your shit down in the kitchen and go the fuck to bed. Your phone is in the process of being fished out of your pocket, intent on texting Yeosang to ask if he's around for a debrief.

You stop dead in your tracks when you look up, about to unlock the front door. Perched tall and proud, is a beautiful bouquet of purple flowers in a glass vase right outside your door. A card is placed in between the overlapping petals, and you can’t help but gawk at the sight of it. 

How the hell did he find your address? 

Oh– Hongjoong, probably. Your initial creeped-out feeling vanishes. Hongjoong can just find anything for San, you’re sure. 

Punching in the keycode to your door, and switching the kitchen lights on, you place the flowers on the counter, taking a second to admire them. Purple, you note. Your favorite. Again, Hongjoong must have told him, but you can’t help but smile – he really did want to make it up to you. 

You pluck the small card from the flowers and read it, sitting down at your kitchen island. 

Hope you had a good time today. 

Sorry for being such a stupid slut </3

-San

Your smile widens, laughing and rereading it. You flip it over, and on the back is a phone number, scrawled in blue ink. 

Perhaps you missed a hidden clause in the forms that makes you promise to not fall in love with him. 

You hope not. 

one day in class you took notice to the little stickers that littered his folders and notebooks, also the plush keychain that hung from his backpack. you thought it was cute how he showed his interests in little ways like that, especially since he wasn't able to talk about them to these judgmental students in school. you never thought it was strange like the other students saw it to be. but to soobin, your wandering eyes must have felt that way. he snatched up his things with shaky hands and shoved them in his bag, his face burning red. before you could get a word out, he sped-walked out the classroom and down the hall.

you and soobin never got close, never had the chance to. aside from playing with chemicals and writing scientific equations on a piece of paper, you didn't get to talk that much. here and there you would gather a little information about him, but he would often shut himself up from going on and on about his interests or life. he kept it short, like he was drawing a line between the two of you. it pained you a bit that he felt like he had to hold himself back, you noticed the light in his eyes when you would ask him a question and the way it faded when he caught himself. his eyes shaky and gnawing on his bottom lip, changing the subject to science-related topics.

the day before soobin left, it was a friday and you managed to get a smile from him. it was a stupid joke you made while doing an experiment involving looking at germs. you mustered up the courage to lighten the tense mood since you've been working for an hour on the assignment, jabbing soobin in the side before he pressed his eyes into the scope.

"hey," he turns to you, his eyes immediately shifting when they locked with yours. he stares at a corner of your face, but you were used to it. just like you were used to the pink that spread across his face whenever you would converse with him. "why did the germ cross the microscope?"

he furrows his brow and chews on his bottom lip, "w-why?" he stutters.

you hold back a laugh as you complete the joke, "to get to the other slide." you couldn't hold back for long as you burst out with laughter at how dumb the joke was, it wasn't even that funny. yet, you couldn't help yourself. soobin's eyes widen at the sudden loud sound, his face flushing as he turns away while trying to stifle a laugh. he looks into the microscope in front of him, but you don't miss the small smile that comes onto his face. nor the little dimple that appears on his cheek.

you were the last to know about soobin and his family deciding to leave the city for one that was three hours away from yours, which meant he would be transferring high schools. you didn't have a chance to say goodbye or thank you for all his help during the class as he just stopped showing up. you were pretty worried, it wasn't like soobin to miss a day. let alone it being three in a row, your anxiety was starting to eat you up and you decided to ask the teacher about him.

"you didn't hear, soobin transferred last week. friday was his last day."

it shocked you, he never talked about leaving. granted, you weren't the closest to him but you thought with the small-talk you often made he would mention something like that. or even bring it up the day before he supposedly left, the day you saw him smile for the first time. before leaving the classroom, you took another glance at the seat next to yours that was empty with something heavy weighing on your heart.

after he moved, it took about a month before you got use to his absence. everyday you walked into class your eyes would immediately fly to the seat he once sat in. you hoped that you would find him sitting there with his disheveled black hair, his glasses that were perched on his little nose, his lips that would be pursed in concentration as he worked out a problem in his study book. you would deflate when he wasn't there, shuffling to your seat and plopping down with a sigh.

you eventually got a new lab partner, beomgyu was his name, and the two of you would come to be good friends. often finding yourself doing the same things you would with soobin, plus some. hanging out with the boy after class and talking to him about his interests. sometimes you'd find that same glint in beomgyu's eyes that you saw in soobin and get sad, shaking the feeling off with a small smile.

you would eventually forget about soobin in the following months leading up to graduation, maybe not completely though . even though you knew he wasn't there, he couldn't possibly be, your eyes still searched the sea of graduation caps hoping to find those glasses and flushed cheeks you grew fond of.

⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･

you and beomgyu walk into your first chemistry class of the semester together, shoulder to shoulder, and laughing about some video that he sent to you this morning. the two of you ended up getting accepted into the same college after vowing to never separate post-graduation. you were happy to know one person for your first year, and even happier that it was your best friend beomgyu.

you take a seat in the third row of the classroom with a sigh, beomgyu following and plopping down next to you. you turn towards beomgyu with a blinding smile and he playfully shields his eyes, making you push him. before you could strike up a conversation about your excitement, the professor walks in along with some straggling students who didn't want to be marked late on the first day. she was a short and limber lady, with a high bun resting on her head and circular glasses that framed her face well. she looked like the kind of professor that enjoyed her job.

she shut the door behind the last student to enter, before making her way to her desk. she fumbles around with her many folders and laptop, pulling up a slide show. the room is mute of talking, the only sounds being the shuffling of students reaching into their backpacks for their computers and pencils, prepared to take any introductory notes. as she sets up, the door to the classroom creaks open and everyone's heads turn in the same direction.

a boy with wired-headphones plugged into his ears walked into the room. he was wearing a black tight-fitted shirt that hugged his sides, it was tucked into his jeans that fit his thighs perfectly, his dark hair was mussed but in a stylish way. he grimaces and his face flushes when he realizes the squeaking of the closing door was bringing unwarranted attention to him, dimples that looked a little familiar appeared on his cheeks.

"class starts at eight, young man." the professor says, grabbing the remote that controls the screen now that her slides were pulled up. he turns in her direction, popping the buds from his ears and wrapping them around his phone, his face seemed to turn even darker and he sucks in his bottom lip. you cock your head to the side, the more you stare at him and watch his actions, the more familiar the boy looks. distant memories that you can't quite catch float around in your head.

"s-sorry. it's not an excuse, but my alarm didn't go off." his voice was deep and smooth as he spoke, honesty laced in his tone as he apologized. all around you, the girls in the class started to whisper to their friends. presumably about his good looks, you would do the same with beomgyu if it weren't for you trying to wrack your brain trying to figure out why you think you've seen him before. he presses his lips together and bows his head awkwardly in apology. he starts to head for a seat, but he's stopped by the professor speaking again-

"i'll let it pass this time since it's the first day," she starts and he nods his head in acknowledgement, his grip tight on his bag-strap that was slung across his slim waist. "what's your name?" everyone tunes in, wanting to know the name of the handsome boy who would be in this class for the semester. he runs a hand through his hair, his eyes darting around the room and avoiding stares. "ah, c-choi soobin."

you freeze, your eyes widening at that name. choi soobin? like choi soobin that you went to high school with? choi soobin who suddenly upped and left one day? the same one who buried himself in over-sized clothing and his glasses that never sat on his nose right? that's the same guy who was standing in front of you, with fitted clothes, no glasses on his face, and a lot taller than what you remembered, that soobin?

your eyes follow him as he walks past you once the professor dismissed him to a seat that was a few rows behind you, you couldn't help it. you haven't heard that name in about a year and now he shows up again in the same college as you, in your science class? your eyes lock briefly when he goes by, his eyes immediately shifting away and his face going pink. you don't think he remembered you though, besides it's been a while and you also forgot about him until this moment.

all class, you could only think about the boy who you were semi-acquainted with in high school and how much he has changed. your body itched to turn around and catch a glance at him, figure out if it was actually the same boy you knew.

"you okay," beomgyu whispered to you, poking a finger into your side. you give him a nod before placing your face in your hand and gnawing on your bottom lip. you had to talk to him after class, right? you needed to know if he remembered you, thought about you even a little after he left.

you were lost in thought until the final minutes of class, the professor clapping her hands together sharply before clicking to the last slide. it was an announcement that she will be putting us in pairs, and we'll stay in that duo for the semester. you'll do labs, assignments, and presentations with your partner. it reminded you a lot of the class you took in high school.

"hopefully we're together." beomgyu whispers, crossing his fingers and you smile at him while also twining your fingers in hopes. we wait while professor starts calling out pairs, your heart beating fast. the both of you take a pause when beomgyu's name is called.

"choi beomgyu and-" he bites on his bottom lip and squeezes his eyes shut, grabbing onto your hand and holding it tightly in his. "kang taehyun." he deflates, throwing a pout at you and you caress his shoulder. he turns around and finds his partner who raised his hand. he gets up with his belongings and makes his way towards the boy and they immediately jump into conversation. you think he'll be alright and you shoot him a thumbs up when he looks your way with a soft smile.

you jump when your name is called next, snapping your head to the front of the room. hopefully whoever you get is nice and not someone who will slack off and make you do all the work, that's the last thing you want in a college-level chemistry class. "and choi soobin."

you eyes widen and your mouth drops open in shock. what are the odds that you and soobin would be in a science class together and be lab partners at that. it gave you a reason to talk to him again after some time, but you haven't thought about what you would say. how would you even bring up what you wanted to talk about?

when you turn around, soobin was already looking back at you. you couldn't quite read his facial expression, he looked a little surprised but also intrigued. he would shift his eyes away though, clearing his throat and rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. you gathered your belongings and headed up the stairs to his row and taking the seat next to his.

you look at him from the corner of your eye, too scared to turn and look at him and just fidgeted with the pencil in your hand instead. you let the professor finish putting people in pairs, she tells the class to exchange info with your lab partners and get to know them as our first lab will be on thursday. there's about fifteen minutes of class left and she dismisses us to be able to converse.

slowly, you turn your head towards him. "hey,"

soobin jumps and rubs his hands anxiously over his thighs. he looks over at you and bows his head, before turning away again. he squeezes his eyes shut and says something under his breath you can't catch.

"uh, so… we should probably exchange numbers like the professor suggested since we're going to be together for a whole semester. and we might have to keep in contact with eachoth-" you started to ramble before soobin suddenly cut you off.

"did we go to high school together?" he asks, turning towards you. he quickly catches himself, his face burning and his eyes shifting away from your stare that felt too intense. he looks down at his lap, at his fumbling hands that were there. "ah sorry- i mean…m-more specifically did we have a science class together?" he mutters the last part.

you freeze, so he did remember you…"uh, yeah. we were lab partners back in high school." you answer his question while nodding your head.

there was the tiniest smile that came to his face, crooked and cute. "i thought so…" he mumbled more to himself. his hand comes up to his nose like he was going to push up his glasses, but his hand curls into a fist when he realizes they weren't there.

"what happened to your glasses?" you blurt out without thinking. soobin's drops his hand onto the table and his face turns a pretty shade of pink.

"my-my glasses? i, um stopped wearing them awhile ago. i wear con-contacts now." his hand scratches the back of his neck as he speaks and he clears his throat often the more he talks, like he was thinking of the next words to say as he said it.

"mmm," you hum in understatement. before you could ask another question, about why he left so suddenly without saying anything, it was the end of class. the professor would announce that while also telling us to pick up our homework for the day. a worksheet to get to know all about your lab partner, like we were in kindergarten again.

soobin packs up his belongings and you can't help but to notice the keychain that hung from his backpack, the same one from when we were in high school. you smile to yourself and soobin gets up, a quick and jerky movement that startles you a little.

"i-i'm gonna go now," he stiffly says, sliding behind you and starting for the stairs that leads to the door. you bite your lip, quickly getting up and packing your stuff to follow him. you can't let him get away that easily, not when you got the chance to finally see him again.

"wait-" you say, catching his hand that was on his phone and ready to unravel his headphones. he flinches away, snatching his hand back and leaving yours hanging mid-air. when you look at him, he was blushing, his eyes looking everywhere but at yours and his cheeks were puffed out.

"sorry i- i was just wondering if you wanted to get started on the homework?" you ask him, dropping your hand and clutching onto your tote bag. soobin taps the screen of his phone with his thumb to check the time.

he opens his mouth to speak but gets interrupted by someone slinging their arm over your shoulder and ruffling your hair. you knew it was beomgyu cause he was the only person that did that to you, the little punk.

"shall we grab some lunch, i'm starving~" he asks, pinching your cheek. he stops when he realizes that soobin is standing there, looking between the two of you with wide eyes. he particularly focused on beomgyu's arm that was around you, which striked you as odd.

beomgyu nods at him before shoving a hand out in front of soobin, "hi, i'm beomgyu! you must be soobin and this losers lab partner." you roll your eyes, shoving his arm off of you and making him pout. soobin tentatively takes his hand, shaking it almost robotically before letting go.

"so," beomgyu turns to you, bringing his face completely in your view. you notice the way soobin turns his head away, his face burning. "are we getting lunch or not?"

you lean back and gesture towards soobin, "actually, i was going to get started on the homework assignment with soobin." you smile at beomgyu who drops his obnoxiously and his eyes flicker towards the boy that was standing there shuffling on his feet. he looks back at you, wiggling his eyebrows.

you never talked to beomgyu about soobin, never felt a reason to. it felt better to keep those little memories you had to yourself, instead of loading all you grievance on someone you just met. so, to him it probably looked like you were looking for a hook-up.

"oh, that's cool! i'll just get lunch with taehyun and catch up with you later?" he taps your shoulder and gives you a shit-eating grin that makes you roll your eyes even harder than the first time. he skips away, smirking at you as he heads out the door to track down his new friend.

soobin looks at you, not for too long of course, before staring down to his feet or the ground beneath them you weren't too sure. he drums his fingers against his bookbag strap, the silence stretching on.

"uh, sorry about that…do you have any time to do the assignment right now?" you ask him.

soobin's head pops up and he seems to perk up a bit at the idea of you still wanting to hang out with him, "yeah down- i'm down!"

"we can go to my dorm, it's only a five minute walk from here. if that's okay with you of course!" you offer, pointing in the direction of your room. soobin blushes furiously, but nods his head in agreement. you smile, waving your hand and motioning for him to follow you.

⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･

"me and beomgyu share this place, but he shouldn't be back for awhile. but you already knew that…"

soobin shucks off his shoes before looking around. it was a cozy and small dorm room that he can tell is properly lived in. plushies littered the couch, there were two mugs on the coffee table in front of it, he placed his shoes next to the others that were by the door. it smelt good too, like cinnamon and something else he couldn't name.

you watch as soobin scans the place, his head turning until it lands on you. he gets startled as if he forget that it was your place and that you were actually in it. you don't fight the giggle that bubbles up and comes out.

"we can go to my room, it's more comfortable." you smile at him and make your way down the hall and to the right where your room was, opposite of beomgyu's who was on the left. he follows you into the room and jumps when you shut the door.

you gesture towards the bed, "have a seat." he nods and rummages through his bag for the assignment, a clipboard, and a pencil to write with. he settles on the bed, but he doesn't move. he looks almost frozen as he sits there and you smile fondly at how shy he can truly be.

you sit next to him, climbing onto the bed and crossing your legs with the paper in your lap. soobin mirrors you, being sure to put a little bit of distance between the two of you as he does.

"i-i'm ready when you are." he says, scrunching his nose and pushing up imaginary glasses. your eyes linger on him a little longer than you intended, soobin's eyes shifting and his cheeks turning rosy as he clears his throat.

"right- um, first question is…what's your favorite thing to do?" you look up from the sheet for him to answer first.

"i would say m-my favorite thing to do is read or watch tv, it's what i do the most." he shrugs his shoulders while you write down his response.

"and what do you like to read and watch?"

"nothing much, just…what everyone else reads and watches." he answers, his hands fidgeting around his pencil.

"and what is everyone reading and watching?" you tease. soobin stutters over his words, his tongue felt tied as he tried to come up with a lie and think about what trending shows he's heard others talking about.

"i'm messing with you," you laugh, placing a comforting hand on his thigh. he tenses under you and you pull away, he immediately relaxes when you do. "but i did notice the jujutsu kaisen figure on your bag, do you like that show? it's anime, right?" soobin's eyes are wide when he looks at you, his mouth moving like a fish.

"you know about jujutsu kaisen? have you ever watched the show?" he sounded excited that someone recognized the figure, as if it wasn't one of the most popular ones out now. he had that same shine in his eyes that he did back in high school when he would talk about things like this.

you felt a little bad when you had to admit the truth though, "i've never watched it, but beomgyu always talks about it!" you try to make the situation a little better and give him a topic to bring up with beomgyu whenever he sees them again, maybe they can become friends too.

"oh…" he deflates, tapping his pencil against his paper.

"we could always watch it together, since we're going to be around each other the whole semester." you suggest to him.

"really? you would watch?"

"yeah," you answer honestly and watch with fondness as soobin smiles, sucking his lips into his mouth in an attempt to hide it. it reminds you of the day before he left, the same day you finally saw him smile.

you can't hold back when you ask, "how come you didn't tell me that you were moving?" soobin pauses, his head slowly lifting up to gauge your facial expressions and feeling the shift in the mood. "i mean, i know we weren't super close but we were science partners and i was a little hurt when i had to find out from the teacher that you left." your voice gets soft to show that you weren't angry at him, just curious.

"i-" soobin's hand comes out to comfort you, but he stops himself and drops it onto the bed and grips onto the comforter instead. "i wanted to say goodbye… i didn't even know we were moving until i got home that day." he mumbles with a small head shake.

"everything was already packed and they were loading up the u-haul truck. i hardly even had time to process it all and once i did i was in a new city surrounded by a bunch of new people. b-but believe me when i say i wanted to say goodbye at least…" and you do believe him. he sounded too sincere and his eyes reminded you of a sad puppy, his lower lip jutting out into a pout as he spoke.

he almost looked he wanted to cry and you couldn't have that, not over something so small. you were just curious as to why you never saw him again, you didn't mean to upset him in the process. you don't remember how or when but when you snap out of your thoughts, you're close to soobin. super close, with your hand pressed against the side of his warm face.

he was blinking at you wildly, his fingers gripped tight into your covers. you gasp, your eyes widening as you steal your hand away and pulling back. "sorry, i don't know why i just did that…"

"you-" soobin presses his lips together, furrowing his brows.

"i…?"

"you whis-whispered something,"

"what did i whisper?" you nervously ask.

he clears his throat, "you said that you missed me…"

you were taken aback, you didn't remember saying that but soobin said you did and he didn't have a reason to lie. did you miss him? when he left, you did think about him a lot. even after meeting beomgyu and graduating, there was little moments when he would pop into your mind and you would wonder how he was doing. if he was doing the same, thinking about you at that very moment.

you look at the boy who was so different from what you remembered. his muscular and toned body that was visible through his shirt, his legs that were a lot longer than before and encompassed by his jeans, his slender hand that held his pencil, his big and curious eyes that were no longer framed with glasses, his pretty and pink lips that were pouted so cutely. you wanted to lean in and kiss them-

your lips touch in a chaste kiss that lasts a second. when you pull back, soobin's eyes were squeezed shut and his lips were still protruded. you giggle, hiding your smile behind your hand and soobin's eyes crack open. he was blushing furiously and he had a sheepish look on his face.

"it's true, i did miss you…" you admit to him. you shove the classwork aside and crawl towards him. soobin's breath hitches when you start to come closer, his legs involuntary parting and allowing you to fill the spot between them.

you bring your faces close enough so that your breathes mingle between the little space there was. you slowly bring your hand up to his face again, your thumb rubbing under his eye. soobin's breath gets shaky as he lets your explore his face, gnawing on his bottom lip in nervousness.

you let your finger trace the bridge of his nose where his glasses used to be, "do you still keep your glasses around?" soobin brain was malfunctioning and he couldn't speak so he simply nods his head and points a trembling finger at his backpack that was on the floor. with a smile you hop off the bed to grab his glasses that were in a cute case before repositioning yourself to where you were.

you raise the glasses up to his face and gently slide them over his ears and up his nose. they were the same ones he had back then, except now they fit his adult features. they looked perfect on him, against the pink of his cheeks.

"so handsome," you mutter while continuing your evaluation of his face. letting your fingers trace the bow of his upper lip, soobin's stuttering breath making them moist. you look him in the eyes, "can i kiss you, properly?"

soobin swallows, his eyes sliding to the wall behind you. "i-i don't know how… i've never kissed somebody before." he whispers.

you were slightly taken aback, "really?" it was a little hard to believe that someone that looked like this has never kissed anyone. he shakes his head slowly, his nervous eyes finding their way back to yours. it was cute, the contrast between his striking visuals and his timid actions. and the fact that you were the first person to kiss him, be close to him like this, defile him was kind of turning you on.

with a gentle touch, you tap his lips. "just keep these open and follow my lead, hm?" soobin nods again, licking his lips and parting them, shutting his eyes as you move in close to him. you tilt your head to slot them together with his and soobin's fingers grip onto the blanket.

you take it slow and let soobin get the feel of making out, he's clumsy at the start of course. he can't quite find the right rhythm and sometimes he'll press too hard. he pulled back a little at one point and whispered against your mouth, "is that right?" you would grab him by the chin gently and hum in agreement before pulling him in again.

this time soobin melts into the kiss, finding the pacing easier this time as you capture his lips. wrapping an arm around his neck to keep him in place, sliding your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck and making soobin shiver. his whole body squirms as your nails scratch his scalp gently, a tiny whimper slipping into the kiss.

the sound sent tingles through your body and you wanted- no needed to hear it again. you grip the hairs and tug them just a little, just enough to tilt his back and deepen the kiss.

"ngh," soobin moans into your mouth, his pretty lips opening wider. you place a hand on his chest, pushing him back onto his elbows. you slip your tongue into his mouth and soobin allowed you to explore his mouth, moving your tongue against his. he finds himself liking the way it feels, his body heating up, his pulse racing, and there was another sensation happening…between his legs.

he can feel the way your hand slides down his chest and tense tummy, heading right for the spot that was throbbing. his breath hitching when your hand ghosts over his crotch, your hand warm against the prominent bulge. his hips twitch up into your hand and he moans at the contact, the friction was delicious and he wanted to chase it.

it wasn't until you started rubbing at the same time as he grinds into against your hand. he found that the longer you did it, the better it felt and there was something coiling in his belly that made his breathing uneven and his body tingle. it scared him a little and he would pull away from the kiss, pushing your hand off of him, "wa-waitwaitwait-" he voice was breathy and his face was flushed, lips red and swollen.

"what's wrong?" you ask with concern, your hand that was just making him feel good was now rubbing his shoulder in comfort. soobin's skin was tingling with every graze, but it was bearable and not as intense as whatever just happened.

he ducks his head in embarrassment, his voice low when he speaks. "i-it's just that was my first time feeling something… like that."

"did you not like it? we can stop if you don't wan-"

"no!" he shouts, his head popping up and his eyes wild. "n-no it's not that i didn't like it…in fact i think i liked it too much. there was this feeling, right here." he points at his lower abdomen, right above his cock that was still hard and twitching in the constraints of his jeans.

"it was really intense and overwhelming, it scared me a little. it was too much, too fast," his speech is fast, his face burning all the while. you giggle a little and let your hand drop back down to his hard-on. soobin jerks, his legs twitching at your sides and lets out a breathy moan as his eyes flutter.

"what you were experiencing was getting close to having an orgasm. you've never touched yourself before?"

soobin's body felt like it was on fire, "no, never…"

"well," you lean into his neck, letting your breath ghost against the sensitive skin. soobin swallows when you trail your lips along the side. "would you like me to be the first to touch you there?" he moans while nodding his head, giving you the consent you needed to hear.

you unbuckle the belt that was around his slim waist, unzipping the zipper and sliding your hand into his pants. soobin watches with heady eyes, blinking slowly as if he didn't want to miss anything. you pull his cock from his pants, the tip was glistening with precum and you press a finger into the pool. you bring your finger to your mouth, lapping at the liquid.

"w-what are you doing, why would you eat…that?" soobin stammers, but his eyes were glossy as he watched you lick up his precum. it made his cock twitch between the two of you.

"it's sweet," you simply reply. "wanna try some?"

soobin tentatively nods, one small motion of his head and you kiss him. immediately, you push your tongue into his mouth while wrapping your hand around him and lubing him up with his own precum.

"uhn," soobin moans, his hips slowly raising up into your fist and his hand comes up to squeeze your arm tightly. it feels so good, he feels so good that he can't even keep up with the kiss. his mouth going slack as he continously moans and whines.

the air between the two of you is humid, soobin's glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose from the sweat building there. his hazy eyes looking at you through his almost fogged lenses, letting out an assortment of needy sounds.

you start to jerk him earnestly, letting your hand go up and down his cock at a quick and steady pace. drinking up all of the whimpers and pants that soobin feeds you. he leaks profusely over your first, a tell-tale sign that this was in fact his first time being touched.

soobin couldn't think, his brain was clouded and his skin was prickling with pleasure. he couldn't control his hips that kept thrusting up, chasing after that intoxicating feeling of your hand on him.

"i-" he gasps when he feels that coil in his tummy again, coming at him quicker than the first time. he doesn't think he can stop it this time though, his body tensing as the pleasure ramps up and his orgasm builds.

"you?"

"i don't think i can hold back -" he choked on his words, shaking his head. his eyes were shiny like he could cry at an moment from feeling so good. you let your hand graze his tip briefly and that seems to be soobin's breaking point.

"i'm- i'm gonna cum," he breaths, his eyes rolling back and his hips kicking upwards in one final thrust. his body twitches, a long and high-pitched moan of your name flowing from his mouth as he comes in your hand.

he tosses his head back, his one hand that was in the sheets so tight that his knuckles were white and his other hand that was on your shoulder was shaking. he felt like he could see white as he came, he felt light and dizzy as multiple spurts of warm cum landed on his shirt and jeans.

you stroke him while he comes down, his breathing heavy and his bottom lip was now sucked into his mouth as he tried to regulate himself. "wow," you smirk, admiring the amount of cum that landed on his clothes. soobin gets shy, his face burning as he turns his head away.

"i'm sorry - i didn't mean to cum so quickly…" he apologizes.

"you don't have to apologize for that." you reassure him, sticking a hand into his mussed hair before reaching down to push his glasses back up his nose and making him crinkle it cutely.

"it-it's embarrassing… cumming just from you touching me." he mumbles, his eyes downcast in shame.

"not embarrassing at all, it's hot." you lift his head up and make sure he's looking into your eyes, letting him know you were telling the truth. he swallows, his throat bobbing and he nods his head.

you laugh, letting his face go and grabbing some tissues from the bedside table. "but if you came that fast just from a handjob, i don't think you would've fared if we went all the way."

soobin's eyes go wide, whimpering when the soft tissue touches his sensitive cock. "i-i… i could've lasted longer!" he counters, a little frown on his face as he said it. you tuck him back into his boxers and zip his pants up.

"really?" you raise an eyebrow, tossing the dirty tissue aside and climbing into his lap. you settle down, pressed directly against soobin's sore cock and moving your hips a little. soobin moans, his hands coming to your waist while nodding his head.

"well, we have a whole semester to figure that out now don't we?" you smirk, as you hop of his lap and start to head out of the room. soobin watches with a furious blush on his face as you go.

"w-wait, my pants!" he calls out, leaping off the bed to remind you off his cum-stained pants he was wearing. he pauses though, looking down and groaning. he was rock hard again. "dammit," he mumbles while shoving a hand between his legs.

how was he supposed to survive chemistry like this?

© lucidwntrr est. 2025 - please do not steal, repost, or copy !

Southtown, U.S.A has not seen snow in a little more than one hundred years.

And such a thing hasn’t bothered you until recently. Twenty-something years of green Christmases without fail, all while listening to songs of falling white crystal, the chill in the air, and the need to stay warm all through it. That last part always annoyed you. You’d do anything to escape the heat, and here these singers were, a perfect Christmas at their disposal and they wanted to hide away from what you craved. You’d often curse at the thermostat, never going below sixty degrees Fahrenheit. Occasionally, perhaps just to torture yourself, you’d look up the newspaper archives of the town, going all the way back to the front page article that showcased the last time it had snowed here. The Holiday Year the townsfolk called it, though you don’t remember exactly why.  

Needless to say, you wanted to experience everything the songs talked about. How a real Christmas should be spent, and what it should look like. 

This year, you decide to do something about it. 

For years, your family has passed down the story of your great grandfather, Ignatius Thistlewhite, and how he became part of the reason it had snowed that year. How it happened, who he met. Supposedly, it was Santa that appeared in the family dining room all those years ago, though you’re not sure you fully believe that. The whole story itself is a bit fantastical. Probably exaggerated as it was told to the younger generations as they came to spice up the story. But there was no denying of his name printed clearly in that same newspaper article. Front page, credited for his assistance in bringing snow to the town. 

Your grandmother had told you the story countless times, every time you asked to hear it as a child. 

“My father was only about your age when it happened,” she would say, pinching your cheek, which you’d endure so she wouldn’t feel bad. Then she’d launch into the details; the elves, the Santa encounter, the reindeer, Mrs. Claus, and then finally, the trip to see the Miser Brothers. One by one, cold and then hot. Their constant bickering, sharp tongues and icy charm. Somehow, they were able to convince those two hotheads to allow it to snow for just one day in the southern United States. 

You just couldn’t remember how. Or even how to get to where the Brothers supposedly lived. There was nothing online about them, only pages of Jack Frost would come up whenever you searched for the Snow Miser, and a random brand of some sort of ‘smart thermostat’ or water heater would show up when you searched for Heat Miser. Khione, the Greek goddess of snow, and Hephaestus, the god of fire. Nothing of the Brother duo. 

You close your laptop with a huff, chalking it all up to some family folktale. Overblown, exaggerated, and inherently false. A children’s tale the adults teased you with even now. Annoyed, and head aching from the hours staring at the bright laptop screen, you get up from your desk, stepping into your shoes. You need to clear your head. Start fresh. You hesitate before eventually grabbing a thin sweatshirt. The evening is approaching, and you know the route you want to take will cost an hour or two to return home from. You loop it around your arm, call out to your mom that you’re going for a walk, and are out the door. 

── ⋆⋅✴︎⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅❄︎⋅⋆ ──

The path through the woods nearby your house is not familiar to you anymore. It has been many years since you’ve walked it, and since then, hurricanes with strong, tree-bending winds have cluttered and hidden certain parts of it, but you find that you navigate the obstacles easily enough. It’s when you decide to turn back, a little later than you initially planned on, that fear starts to set in. It’s far too dark to see the path anymore, and the trees block out the moonlight high above. You look up, trying to see past the branches and leaves to find the stars as a last resort. You think you can figure out which one the North Star is. There are two, each shining brighter than the rest, from what you can see. You need to place your faith in one to lead you home. Even then, you’re not even sure you live towards the north in the first place. You knew you shouldn’t have left your phone. In this day and age? Going without your phone is just asking for trouble. So much for a detox. Now you’re in danger of being stranded in the middle of the woods. 

Speaking of which, the woods are eerily silent, save for the occasional rustle of leaves overhead as the wind laces through them. No creatures stir, at least none that you can hear. You feel like the path is evading you on purpose now, though you’re sure you’ve seen this specific tree before, even though you can barely make out the details of it. So you continue to walk. Hoping against hope you’re heading home. 

Suddenly, you hear your name. 

It is called quietly through the thicket by an unfamiliar voice. Warm, and gentle. You nearly jump out of your skin when you hear it. You pause for only a moment, before realizing that this could be someone that was sent to find you. You turn around, and in the distance, see what appears to be a flashlight, glowing orange in the dark. Odd color, you think, but ultimately ignore it at the moment, breaking into a run towards the voice. 

The more you run, the further the light seems to become. Like it’s teasing you, beckoning you further into the woods like a mirage in the desert. But this is your only hope. Past your fear, you do feel lucid, so you continue, calling out to whoever this man is for help as you run. 

Then, the light disappears. You huff audibly, turning around to see where he had gone. 

“Hello?” You call out, staying still and trying to quiet your panting breath to hear any kind of responding noise. 

There’s nothing for a long, silent moment. You press your lips into a thin line as tears spring to your eyes. Scared, confused, exhausted, and honestly a little betrayed, you can’t help but cry out of frustration and fear. He had only led you further into the woods, far from the original path. 

Then, the light returns, inches from your face. You scramble back once you realize that it’s not a flashlight creating the light at all. 

It’s fire. 

In the palm of a hand. 

A small shriek escapes your throat in shock. It was nearly close enough to singe your hair. You try to see past the ball of fire, but the shadows only aid whoever this person is to remain hidden. 

“Hello,” the same soft, unfamiliar voice says, seemingly in response to your earlier call to him. “I heard you wanted to see me.” 

“I– I–?” You stammer, not knowing what the hell is going on. 

The mystery man takes a step forward, into the light he projects, and you finally see him. Unnaturally vibrant red hair, dark, round eyes like coal, dressed in all black and maroon. He towers over you, looking down at you past his sharp nose. 

“Well?” He asks, expectantly, “Are you gonna ask me for what you want?” 

You take another small step backwards, bumping into a tree. “I– I want to go home.” 

He smirks, the flame flickering and burning even brighter in his palm. The dark casts his face in demonic shadows, turning the grin into something far more sinister looking. 

“No, I don’t think that’s it,” He teases, again stepping forward, crowding into your space. You can feel the heat of the flame intensify as it comes closer to your face. “You know, you’ve been rather rude to me lately.” 

You blink. “Rude? We’ve only just met?” 

“Yes, rude. Whining about the heat like a spoiled child. I give you beautiful days, comfortable weather, no icy roads that could harm you, and… I don’t bite.” 

To say that you’re wildly confused would be an understatement. He huffs, starting to get annoyed and steps even closer, moving his palm off to the side so it doesn’t burn you. 

“It’s rather rude to complain about the beautiful, green Christmases I give you each year and then think you can ask me for a favor.” He says, leveling you with his eyes. 

Ah.

Now it clicks. 

Your eyes widen and your jaw drops. This couldn’t be one of them. How did he know? He heard you, he said. Your mind races, thoughts scattering everywhere. Nothing about this could be real. You must’ve hit your head on a tree branch or something. Surely, this must be a dream, or some guy playing a joke on you. 

So, you shove past him, trying to get away, only for the tree directly next to you to burst into flames instantaneously. You scream and dart off to the side, tripping over a fallen branch and landing on the forest floor. 

“Don’t run from me, sweetheart.” He warns, the fire in his hand burning even hotter than before. 

“Who are you? Really.” You try to sound tough, maybe even annoyed, but your voice comes out thin. 

The man smirks, as if you’re the one playing games with him. 

“Mr. Green Christmas himself. I am the sun, I am the heat that you despise. The miser of fire, at your service, sweetheart.”  

There’s no way. And yet, as you watch the entire tree burn from just his touch, you slowly start to accept that this is real, and it’s happening to you. 

“So, ask me. Go ahead.” 

You hesitate, of course you do. So you decide to ask him about something he said earlier that caught your attention. 

“You… you said that you don’t bite,” you begin quietly, looking up at him from the ground. “What did you mean?” 

“He meant me.” Another voice from behind you chimes in. This one is even softer, like the wind. 

You whip your head around to see who it is, only left gasping as the temperature drops several, if not tens of degrees in an instant. The heat miser fumes at the arrival of who you can only assume is the snow miser. Brilliant, long white hair that almost glows in the dark, frost that covers his hands, and he stands taller in stature than his step-brother. The forest floor freezes beneath you, as well as the trees he stands closest to. You’re caught between them both – fire and ice. 

“Hello, dear,” he greets you, bowing slightly, only annoying his step-brother even more. “I heard you wanted to speak to me.” 

You stay put on the ground, only moving to wrap your arms around yourself in a hug. This was the coldest temperature you’ve ever been in and your body isn’t used to it at all. You’re shivering in no time. It makes total sense now what the heat miser had meant. 

Frostbite. 

The first man you met notices and crouches next to you, quickly warming you up with just his presence. 

“Go away, Seonghwa,” he growls, “why can’t you stay out of my business for once in your life?” 

The second man, Seonghwa, grins like he just heard a joke. “Your business?” He laughs, “Obviously she needs to persuade me first.” With a roll of his wrist, snow begins to fall from his fingertips in a beautiful display of wintery magic – the kind you always dreamt of. 

He watches your eyes widen in awe, watching the flakes fall and disappear as soon as they touch the ground. He knows you want to ask him to do it again, but he won’t. 

Not unless you beg him to. 

Seonghwa smirks at the disappointed look on your face once all the snowflakes are gone. “Go on, dear. You want me to make it snow here, don’t you?” 

You nod, breathlessly. “Y-yes, I just wanted to a-ask if you could–”

“It’s my hemisphere,” the heat miser interrupts, ears turning red as his anger rises, “so you should be asking me, shouldn’t you, sweetheart?” 

“Oh, be quiet, Hongjoong. Give the little icicle what she wants. Just one day, right, dear?” 

You nod, looking between the two. As unpredictable as the weather. “Yes, just one day. Christmas. If it’s not too much to ask.” 

Hongjoong, the heat miser, grows even hotter next to you. So much so that you have to scoot away, closer to Seonghwa to cool off. This only stokes that fire even more. 

“Snow in the south…” he hisses each word with venom, “I’ve only allowed that to happen once, and all I got in return was one spring day at the north pole. Wouldn’t even grant me the chance of showing off my summers.” 

Seonghwa sighs, “Because they were afraid you’d burn everything,” under his breath, but loud enough for Hongjoong to hear. 

Smoke fills the air between you three, forcing you to cover your mouth and nose with your sleeve. 

“Guys, please!” You cough, “Stop fighting. I’m sorry for… summoning you both, I just… want to know what a white Christmas is like.” 

Hongjoong grumbles under his breath, still trying to simmer down, “Why don’t you just fuckin’ drive up north?”  

You ignore him. “Look, can we just find a compromise or something?” Your voice softens, more insecure as you bow your head, “I really want this…” 

The heat lessens its intensity, and the smoke clears. The two brothers look at each other for a moment, communicating everything without saying a single word aloud. A conversation you’re not privy to happening right above you. Hongjoong narrows his eyes at the older man, who rolls his own eyes in response, but succumbs to the younger man’s silent proposal with a passive wave of his hand. 

“We can compromise,” Hongjoong says eventually, surprising you. “But you’re gonna have to do exactly what we say.” 

“Think you can do that, dear?” Seonghwa asks, slowly trailing the back of his frosty hand up and down your arm, making direct eye contact with you. You know they’re not biologically related, but their eyes are so similar, round and dark, mischief glinting within both pairs. 

Hesitantly, you nod once. 

“We need words, sweetheart.” Hongjoong says, his black irises now burning low, like embers. He gently turns your face to look at him, his hand hot but painless against your skin. “Tell us that you’ll do exactly what we say.” 

You swallow hard, watching the reflection of the fire dance in his eyes. Something tells you that maybe you’re about to make a deal with the devil. Or, in this case, two. Your body shivers from his intense, fiery gaze, as well as the shocking cold touch of his step-brother on the other side of you. 

Somehow you trust that they won’t hurt you, but you also can’t be sure you’ll get home in one piece. 

“I’ll… I’ll do exactly what you two say.” 

Hongjoong grins wickedly. Golden and orange highlights shine bright in his hair in the fire light that you hadn’t noticed before. “Perfect.” 

── ⋆⋅✴︎⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅❄︎⋅⋆ ──

Seonghwa relinquishes control over where to take you, much to Hongjoong’s delight. They agreed in their quiet conversation without you that you’d probably be more comfortable in Hongjoong’s castle, with the temperature your body is more used to. Seonghwa knows his powers won’t be as strong in that, to him, hellish heat. Forty degrees Fahrenheit was pushing it for him, bordering on too hot. Still, as the eldest, he lets the younger man have his fun. 

You find yourself suddenly in black, satin sheets on a large four-poster bed. A roaring fire in a grand ebony fireplace off to the left, and lit candles hang high from the tall ceiling. The walls are painted black, meant to trap heat. Already, you start to fan yourself with your hand, beginning to sweat just from being in here for a good ten seconds max. 

Hongjoong stands at the end of the bed, with Seonghwa off to the right, seated on the edge. His warm hands grab your ankles and pull you down the bed, slotting himself in between your legs. You gasp, trying to scramble away. 

“Wh– what are you doing? Where are we?” 

Hongjoong shushes you, hands toying with the hem of your shirt. “We’re compromising,” he smirks. You try to push his hands off of him, but Seonghwa gathers both of your wrists and pins them down above you. 

“You want us to do something for you, you gotta do something for us, sweetheart. It’s only fair.” He reasons, holding your wrists in one hand while his other caresses your cheek, again with the back of his hand, and cooling your skin temporarily. You almost whine when he takes it away. 

“For once,” Hongjoong says, “he’s right.” 

Seonghwa rolls his eyes, but goes right back to focusing on you. Him being so close is helping the heat. He hums as he admires you up and down, the tip of his tongue darting out to wet his plump bottom lip.

“Aren’t you hot under all those layers, dear? Need us to help you cool down?” 

You whimper and nod once, feeling the sweat on your hairline as you do so. 

Together, the two men discard every stitch of clothing from you, tossing the garments aside, somewhere in the room until you’re completely naked, lying before them. Seonghwa maneuvers himself behind you so that you’re lying against his chest, grateful for his presence there as the equivalent of a giant block of ice. You shyly try to close your legs, only to be blocked by Hongjoong’s body between them. Seonghwa busies himself by kissing your neck, making you shiver in a different way. A better way.   

Hongjoong leans down, ghosting his lips up the middle of your chest, between your soft mounds. His breath is hot, heating your already feverish skin. He remains clothed, but you can feel something hard pressing against your center. A dull burn in your lower stomach awakens as you start to relax under their closeness and their contrasting touches. You can feel how wet they’ve made you already. 

“So pretty,” he breathes, his hand starting to trail down your body, heading towards where you need him the most. He mocks your small gasp once he slips two fingers into your core without any warning or prep. You fight against Seonghwa’s hold on your wrists to no avail. As a warning, he sinks his teeth into your neck, his bite so cold that it almost burns. Then, as if nothing had happened, he licks over where he bit to soothe the irritated, nearly broken skin. In the summer, you would sometimes trail ice cubes across your skin in order to cool down – that’s what Seonghwa’s tongue feels like as he kisses your neck. 

Hongjoong curls his fingers up, pressing against your g-spot effortlessly. You whine, squirming in Seonghwa’s hold. For what, exactly, you’re not sure. Luckily for you though, Hongjoong is much more impatient than his step-brother. 

With one touch, his clothes seem to melt away, vanishing from his body entirely in mere seconds. Before you can even ask how that happened, he yanks you out of Seonghwa’s grip. He lays himself down on the bed and positions you to straddle him, already lining himself up with your entrance. 

“You want something, you have to work for it.” He murmurs, loving the heat that he feels radiating off of you. The warmth of his hand on your waist relaxes you, as well as the soft kisses that Seonghwa presses to your shoulder. As Hongjoong helps ease you down, sheathing his cock inside of you, Seonghwa captures your lips in a proper kiss. You gasp into his mouth at the pressure of Hongjoong pushing in, feeling full even with just the tip of his cock inside. The heat in your stomach intensifies tenfold the further you sink down. 

“Mmm, there we go, sweetheart. So wet and warm for me.” He praises, bucking his hips impatiently once you’re just an inch or two away from taking him fully. You cry out, the pleasure and pressure all too much with minimal prep. 

“Don’t cry, dear. I’ll make up for his impatience soon.” Seonghwa whispers against your lips. You shiver, and just from his words are able to fully sink down onto Hongjoong’s length, much to the younger man’s delight. He fits so snugly inside, and you’re clenching around him so tight that it’s hard for you to move much, if at all. 

That ounce of relaxation you felt vanishes once Hongjoong smacks your ass, making your skin there burn slightly. 

“Work for it.” He instructs, “You want me to give up control of the south for a day, you better show me you deserve it.” 

So you do. Promptly. You raise yourself as much as you can and drop back down with a loud whine. The more you ride him, the easier it gets as your pussy gets wetter and wetter around his length. Seonghwa moves your hair out of the way, draping it over one of your shoulders to press ice cold kisses down from the nape of your neck, to the middle of your spine. You shiver violently at the frigid temperature, chasing Hongjoong’s heat again to counteract it. The fire in the fireplace burns even brighter, like it’s feeding off of what’s happening in the room. Your thighs ache something terrible at the exertion, but you keep going. 

And not only just because you want it to snow in Southtown. 

You clench around his thick length, a high-pitched whine escaping your throat as an intense, hot wave of pleasure crashes into you. Hongjoong grabs your hips, forcing you to keep moving as you cum, intensifying the feeling even more. Your head tilts back and your mouth drops open as a second orgasm knocks into you sideways. You crumble instantly, whimpering pathetically. 

But he’s not done. 

He keeps fucking you until he comes three times, his energy and recovery time never wavering. You feel so spent and full, his cum leaking out of your pussy and pooling on the sheets below. But he asks you for one more. One more. You swallow, throat dry from all of your moaning and crying. Seonghwa, sensing your inner turmoil, wanting to say yes but needing further assistance first, is quick to place the back of his hand against your forehead to effectively cool you down. It’s so dizzying. You prop yourself up on your hands on either side of Hongjoong, Seonghwa’s hand following you down. As Hongjoong begins to move, fucking up into you at this new angle, you paw at Seonghwa’s pants that he still has on. 

“Want you too,” you mumble, almost incoherent from the brutal pounding you’re receiving. He bites his lip, making quick work of his trousers and finally pulling his own cock out. Pale, with visible blue veins decorating it like vines crawling up a stone wall. Pearly white precum leaks from the pretty tip, inviting you to taste it. 

Before you can do anything, he places two of his fingers on your tongue, bringing down the temperature a little so it’s more enjoyable for him. With his magic, he’s able to cool your tongue without freezing it over completely. To you, it feels like you’ve just let a popsicle or ice cream melt in your mouth. 

After that, it doesn't take much convincing to wrap your mouth around him. 

Seonghwa stiffens, the small amount of remaining warmth in your mouth slightly overwhelming at first. He keeps his hand on the back of your head, careful to not freeze you when he’s caught up in pleasure from your administrations. Hongjoong groans at the sight above him, watching Seonghwa’s cock create a slight bulge in your throat. The tension between them dissipates quickly once they’re both chasing their own highs. The only competition now is who can make you feel the best. 

Hongjoong leans up to suck one of your nipples into his hot mouth, the heat around your sensitive peak making you shudder and clench around his cock even harder. You whine around Seonghwa’s and he almost busts right then and there, his grip on your hair tightening, now pushing you down to choke you on it. Your throat is warmer than he made your tongue, but it doesn’t deter him as he feels your throat constrict against his cock. You hit his thigh once, nails digging into the skin, but Hongjoong smacks your ass again as a warning. 

Finally, Seonghwa releases you, but keeps the tip inside your mouth as he comes, hooking one of his fingers into your mouth to cool it down again. You realize why once he pulls out and kisses you, slipping his tongue into your mouth to taste himself. 

Hongjoong grunts underneath you, fucking into you with fiery intensity, fueling the molten pleasure that’s been coiling within your lower stomach, and also comes, deep inside of you, buried to the hilt and making sure nothing leaks until he pulls out. 

The two barely give you time to recover, flipping you onto your back and switching positions easily. Seonghwa slots himself between your legs this time, his icy touch calming the messy heat of your core. Hongjoong, on the other hand, lays next to you, taking his turn in kissing you. He thaws your mouth in no time, and interlocks your hand with his, keeping it pinned next to you against the pillows. 

You almost headbutt him when you feel Seonghwa’s tongue lick a frigid stripe up the center of your core. Hongjoong pushes you back down with ease, and a flicker of jealousy behind his dark gaze.   

“Take him, and we’ll give you what you want.” He promises, ghosting his lips against yours. You nod, accepting your final task and allow yourself to melt into him again. 

Though you know you’re a mess, especially where Seonghwa is focusing, he doesn't say anything about it. Doesn’t mention how hot you are to the touch, nor about the mixture of cum, your juices and just a thin layer of sweat that covers your lower body. It’s his job to fix it, he tells himself. To cool you down, back to a proper level… if not maybe a few degrees under, purely to give himself the satisfaction.  

“I’m gonna take my time with you.” He promises, snow-white hair falling into his eyes as he looks up at you through his long lashes. It’s not said aloud, but his quick glance towards Hongjoong says it clearly: unlike you. 

Hongjoong scoffs and rolls his eyes. He focuses his attention on you, squeezing your hand and loving how he can feel you burning up from his proximity as well as the pleasure you’re feeling due to his step-brother. 

Seonghwa is expertly skilled with his tongue. You could’ve guessed from how he kissed you, but this was a whole other level that you weren’t prepared for. He drinks you down like a refreshing cold drink, forgetting any and all manners or etiquette. His composed demeanor cracks a little as he indulges in your taste, never quite getting enough of it. 

He doesn’t stop even when he’s sure you’re cleaned up, and after he makes you cum twice. The second time, he forces himself to pull away, calling his step-brother down with a curl of his finger. Hongjoong too finds it difficult to pull away from your lips, but loves what Seonghwa has in mind. 

You’re far too hazy to realize what’s going on until they finally enact what they silently plotted. 

Seonghwa’s frozen fingers suddenly push in and curl inside of you deep, while Hongjoong attacks your clit with his tongue, sucking the sensitive bundle of nerves into his warm mouth. The quadruple juxtaposition of temperatures nearly kills you. Your back arches and you scream at the overwhelming feeling. The coldness of Seonghwa’s fingers inside your warm core, and the heat of Hongjoong’s mouth thawing your clit, drives you insane. You cum embarrassingly quickly for them, eyes rolling back in your head and your voice breaking as you cry and moan for them. 

"Please!" You wail, thrashing against the satin sheets as yet another orgasm begins to build and build. "I-it's t-too much!"

Seonghwa smirks at the younger man, who just laughs in response, like they're sharing an inside joke. One that has lasted centuries. The only thing they can agree on.

"That's what they all say."

── ⋆⋅✴︎⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅❄︎⋅⋆ ──

You don't know how you got home.

All you know is that you wake up in bed, sore, marked, and... thoroughly satisfied. It takes you a moment to realize the unnatural drop in temperature in your room. You sit up, looking around until you see your window, covered in frost. In an instant, you tear the covers off of you, in awe at the chilly floorboards beneath your feet, and race to the window.

A blanket of white covers the town as far as you can see from your house. You rub your arms to encourage your body heat to warm you up, noting that you're still wearing your thin sweatshirt from last night. Outside, you see kids running out in multiple layers of clothes, no proper snow gear in sight since they've never needed such a thing before, and rain boots. They dive into the snowbanks, pelt each other with snowballs and scavenge for stone eyes for their snowmen. You can't help but smile, excited to go out and play like a kid for the first time in years. From your bed, you hear your phone blowing up with texts, no doubt about the crazy shift in weather, how this is the first time they're seeing snow, wishing you a Merry, Snowy Christmas, etc.

You shove your hands in your pockets once the frigid air gets to be too much for you, only to find a crumpled piece of paper in there. You pull it out and read it with shaking hands.

Too much?

Hongjoong had waited long enough.

He had spent about little over three months without touching himself in any way, not since he had gotten that Prince Arthur piercing on his dick. It had taken around a month to heal. A whole month through which his only outlet was letting you ride his face until he’d cum from having you fuck yourself into his mouth and nothing else. He had been so eager too, tongue out and sweats lowered to his thighs, ready to let himself cum in his stomach.

He had learnt how to work his fingers on you with expertise, never getting tired of how they felt inside you. He’d drag them in and out of you while letting his hard dick rub at your bare thigh, making himself cum just telling you about how he couldn’t wait to have it inside you, staining your skin and bedsheets. You'd scold him at that, like you didn’t get horny knowing he was ruining them with just the thought of you. Like you hadn’t ruined all your panties thinking about it too.

But then, when the time had finally arrived, tragedy had struck: a world tour.

Now, Hongjoong hadn’t planned that one. Or at least hadn’t really thought that it’d be a problem. He could find someone on tour. Someone lucky enough to be the one to feel it for the first time. But he couldn’t do that now.

“What are you thinking about?”

You had been lying on the bed, sheets pilling between your bare legs that lazily intertwined with his. Hongjoong rested the side of his face over the pillow next to you. His eyes had gotten lost on some spot on your face, but you could tell he was somewhere far, far away. Wherever he had been, you could see your question bringing him back to you. He shook his head slightly, his fingers carefully pulling a strand of hair away from your face.

“Nothing”

But he had known. He had been thinking about how it had to be you. It could only ever be you.

And so when he realized the tour would interfere with both of your plans, he had started to prepare himself to endure three months of not seeing you. Not touching you. God, the thought was driving him insane.

“You don’t... uhm...”

You had tried to ease his worry, but shame was making the words pile at the base of your throat. The thing was, Hongjoong and you hadn’t really spoken about what was going on. Sure, he had pretty much made himself at home between your legs, mapped every part of your body trying to saciate his thirst, untouched himself. But you didn’t want him to think you thought you were exclusive, in case he didn’t feel that way. You didn’t want to tell him to have his fun somewhere else either, afraid he might think you didn’t love him. Because you did.

“You don’t need to... I know you promised to use it with me for the first time but, well, I think... uhm, I understand. If it’s too much”

“What do you mean?”

“If it becomes too much to bear while you are there” god, the thought itself made you sick. You swallowed it loudly “I understand if you sleep with someone else on tour”

It had been a bit of a improper conversation to have at a coffee shop early in the afternoon, but that had been one of the only and very few free moments Hongjoong had had to offer you. He had been too busy between practice, meetings, and more practice. He had sat across you in a beanie, most definitely hiding hair he hadn’t had the chance to wash in a few days. Basic practice clothes that smelled faintly of sweat and his own particular scent, always so tantalizing when he’d hug you in an efusive greeting after days of not seeing you. You couldn’t do much more, not in public. And with him not being able to move too far away from the studio, it had been like this for the last couple days leading to the tour. He had looked tired and yet so happy to see you even if for just a moment. After you had spoken those words though, he looked even more gaunt than you had ever seen him.

“Why would you tell me that?” it’s all he asked, and you felt yourself become small.

He sounded disappointed.

“Just in case you falter? I don’t know. I don’t want you to feel bad if you change your mind when you are over there"

“Do you think I’m going to?”

“No? I don’t-- We haven’t really spoken about where this is going or what page we are on” you had felt the heat crawl up your neck, embarrassed and also scared that he was staring at you like that “And I know you have a lot of pent-up frustration, and you know... you are always talking about the clubs and events you go to and the pretty fans you see and all that”

His anger disippated, watching you making yourself crawl into yourself in front of him, pushing through the shame of bringing those memories to him. Had he told you about these? When you were suprssing your feelings for him, did he really sit there and tell you about other women? Had you looked so sad as you did now, despite how hard you were trying not to?

“I don’t want anyone but you. Not now, not after I fulfilled my promise. Not ever”

That shut you up. You felt his hand rest on top of yours, brown eyes never leaving yours. They were tranquil, honest. You figured yours might be a bit glassy. It had been enough to ease your worries and ease his heart. Had he left you there with those thoughts for three months, he wouldn't have been able to forgive himself.

The kiss before the night he was supposed to be driven to the airport with the rest of the members had taken place behind their dorm building. Whatever excuse he had given to sneak out he hadn’t told you. He had held you against the wall, your back arched and your arms around his neck. It had been hungry and heated when he had gotten a hold of you, but it hadn’t been until the pace had slowed down, lips barely brushing against each other in a teasing rhythm, that he had felt himself get hard against you.

“Does it not hurt anymore?”

He shook his head, his tongue gliding left and right through your bottom lip as he did so. He kissed and sucked on it softly, savoring you.

“It’s ready for you”

“I can tell”

You giggled against his lips, and the sound echoed in his ears. It'd made his heart skip a beat, warmth spreading through his chest and all over his body. God, he could take you there and then. Not even out of lust, he just needed you closer. Impossibly closer. He dropped his head and buried it in the crook of your neck, the small beads of sweat on his forehead wetting your skin. There were so many things he wanted to say: I miss you. I need you. I love you.

They all pressed against his ribcage, suffocating him. He let out a deep sigh, trying to ease his breathing. Compose himself. You caressed his hair, a little dry from the recent bleaching, and he hummed against your shoulder.

“I wish you could come with me”

“It’ll be so worth it when you come back”

“Is not just about that. You know is not just about that” he lifted his head and his eyes settled on yours, the light of a nearby lampost swimming faintly on his blown pupils “You know, right?”

Your hands caressed the soft skin of his neck and found their place at both sides of his face, cupping it with the utmost care.

“I do”

You did, the affection piercing through you as overwhelming as exhilarating.

The two months the tour had lasted had been the most agonizing Hongjoong had ever experienced. The good news was, he could touch himself now. You had both agreed upon it, even if he had wanted to deny himself that privilege. You had insisted that he wouldn’t be able to help it, and would eventually feel bad about it if he forced that rule on himself. With a little caveat to satisfy the both of you.

That was the reason why Hongjoong had asked for the single room for himself this time around, no one having any reason to deny him. That’s why he was propping his phone in different places, finding the best angles to show you all he wanted you, and only you to see. You had received so many videos all the way through it.

In some he had propped the phone against his laptop that rested on the bed between his legs, open and eager. He had stroked himself, small steel piercing glinting under the hotel room light over his pink tip, eyes a bit lost somewhere behind the phone. He had told you he had had your pictures open on the laptop screen.

“Not even a scandalous one” he had texted.

“Just one of you smiling”

“I miss it so much”

He had folded a pillow in front of him, his pretty pale ass up in the air as he thrusted into it. You could see him dragging his tongue through the pillowcase, moaning and biting into it every time he buried his cock against the soft fabric. He had his phone to the side, so you could see him in all fours pathetically humping his own pillow, laptop open to his side playing the recording he had made while he fingered you in the backseat of his car. He had made many other since then, too.

He had a video you had taken when you were abusing his pretty mouth, fucking yourself on his tongue. It was shaky and frantic, and he could see his own cloudy eyes rolling back. He was embarrassed of how loud his moans had been, even when muffled under the delicious weight of your whole body over his mouth.

God, he had even let you play with his asshole. It had been one of these times he was so desperate he had almost fucked you with his freshly pierced dick, all health risks be damned. Then he had felt your wandering hand, and he had lifted his face from were it had been buried on your chest, sucking at your tits. Your eyes had shot him a question.

“Does it feel good?”

And he had nodded faintly. Unsure of his answer, you had done it again, slowly and carefully. He dragged his clothed dick against your leg, and that had been it. He had let you patiently and teasingly draw circles around it while messily making out with you, moaning into your mouth when you’d press your pinky finger against it. It hadn’t gone farther than that, but he had made a mental note of it. Put it aside for some other time when you both had the time, and the means, and the lube. He’d do anything. He’d do everything, as long as it was with you. No one else could touch him like you did.

Not even himself, no matter how much he squeezed himself in front of that camera. Face flat against the bed, lazily fucking himself into his own hand thinking of you. You zoomed into the video, his eyes closed, messy hair and face red. His eyebrows knit together as another whiny moan left his mouth. He looked so embarrassed when he stood up, planting his ass on his calves, staring at the mess he’d done. His hands completely covered in the proof of his nasty antics: sheets ruined, sweaty, threads of cum all over it. His bed. Where he had to sleep. He looked so shy when he got up from the bed and cut the video off.

“You look so cute” you had texted the next day after you’ve had time to watch it.

“That’s all?”

“I’d have cleaned them up with my tongue”

“Thank you”

“No need”

“I slept in the couch. I feel bad for the cleaning lady, though”

Some days he couldn’t even be bothered to record for you, no matter how much he wanted to show you. He’d get lost looking through videos, some he was completely incapable of looking away from. That one of him sliding his pierced cock through your pussy, a personal favorite of yours too. It had felt so good, the feeling of it hard and so hot rubbing against your clit, pressing against your entrance. It was so wrong, you both knew you were crazy enough to try and put it in. Every time it'd press against your cunt you’d moan in protest, the little frown on your face actually making him want to push forward even more. It was disgusting really, how much you both had made out of it. The slick spread all over your pussy had made it easy for his his cock to glide through you, Hongjoong’s precum leaking from his tip making the sound slicker, obscene.

He had held it still while you thrust your hips in the air, rubbing yourself against it, making sure his pretty tip touched your clit perfectly on the way down every single time. He had thought of marrying you in that position, stupid thought. It had made him shudder, his orgasm suddenly dangerously close. He had held your waist against the bed one more time, his other hand stroking himself at a quick pace as the tip dragged against your folds.

“Please?” he had asked.

You knew what he had meant, and you had obliged every single time.

His body shook, and he pressed his tip against your entrance before he came. It was the closest he could get to it, and he loved the sight: your hungry pussy, covered in his cum dripping down and into the couch. He had taken a second to breathe, engrossed in the sight in front of him. He looked almost enamoured.

“Are you gonna clean it up?” you had teased, his hungry eyes, still blown going from your pussy, to your eyes, back down. He had fallen on his knees on the floor, hands on your knees and face dropping to your core. You had stopped him, your palm pressing against his forehead in an almost comical manner. You both exchanged a look “That’s not what I--” you started, before you realized his stare wasn’t changing, the grip on your knees never softening. You swallowed, a small whimper falling from your puffy lips when you had seen him drag his tongue over your pussy with determination, his dazed eyes never leaving yours until he had cleaned you all up from his own mess.

Hongjoong had come back on a Wednesday morning, and he sent you the room number the moment he had booked it. He had insisted on going to a hotel instead of your apartment.

“I don’t want you to get any complaints from the neighbours” he had said, and he had been so serious about it too.

It was big, luxurious, and way more expensive than your mind could have started to comprehend. It was that sort of hotel, the kind that had a big, fancy guy at the front stopping you from coming in until you had shown him the reservation. It made you think about Hongjoong, about how things were before he debuted. He was on a league of his own now, and you were along for the ride.

It had never made you feel as small as it did now, inside the elevator and speaking the floor number to the lady so she can press it for you. It feels wrong somehow, being in a place like this, meeting your global superstar secret boyfriend at a hotel you could never afford a night at without sacrificing two months of salary. Inadequate. That's the word you are looking for.

You text Hongjoong the moment you let your back fall onto the absurdily huge bed. He texts back right away.

“I’ll be there in twenty”

He must be so tired, you think, and yet he still wants to see you. Do you really deserve that? It feels so wrong for you to be lying here, and you can't help but fiddle with your fingers while you wait. Why does it have to be like this? Why do you have to be like that? Months waiting for this and the moment you get here you are, what exactly? Scared? Sad? About what? You could tell how much he loved you three months ago. Isn’t that good enough? Wouldn’t he be so upset if he walked through that door and saw you like this?

You hear the door open when your face is still between your hands, splashing water on it to calm yourself down. You can't tell if he has arrived surprisingly quickly or if you have lost track of time. You hear his voice call your name from the entrance and your heart leaps from your chest. You dry your face and discard the towel on top of the faucet, running into the main room to jump into his arms. You feel yourself soften and melt against him. The touch of his hoodie against your nose, the familiar feeling of his arms around you, the small kisses he was peppering through your hair. You sniffle and he parts from you. His eyes search yours, worried with reddish, dark circles around them.

“What’s wrong?”

You shake your head, you really don’t even know yourself.

“I’m not sure” it scares him the way to say it, how is he supposed to help you? “It’s just... overwhelming?"

“What is?”

“You” you panic “Us. This. In a good way, is just” the grip of your hands tighten on his shoulders, hoping he understands you want him close, that he won’t misunderstand “I’ve never felt this much before. It’s a bit scary”

You let out a breathy laugh. Hongjoong brings a hand to caress your cheek.

“We don't have to do it today”

You scoff at that “Are you kidding?”

He doesn’t laugh.

“I can wait forever” he says “I can wait forever for you”

You take in his reddish eyes, the small break-outs in his skin, the dullness of it. The way he stands in front of you with little strength to stand up. You caress his cheek, and his eyes flutter close for a second.

“You look so tired” you whisper into his lips “Come here”

You walk him towards the bed, take his shoes off when he sits down on the edge. He watches you kneel in front of him, pulling them off, socks too, placing them neatly next to the bed.

"Wait" he says in a low voice, a bit broken.

He asks you to get up by tugging at the sleeves of your sweater. He remains seated and his hands roam to your lower back in a gentle hug. He looks up at you, and you can understand what he wants without a word. You bent down slightly.

"Sorry" you say against his lips "I forgot the most important part"

You place a soft kiss on his lips. They are a bit chapped, rough against yours. He exhales deeply, and you can feel some invisible weight lift from his shoulders. His grip on your back, his lips, it all softens. Your fingers softly scratch underneath his jaw, earning yourself a shudder. You part his lips with yours, gently but a bit demanding. It's always the sweet moments that do the most for both of you. The slow kisses, the ghostly touches, the sound of your lips parting and tongues dragging against each other at an agonizing slow pace. His hands lift the hem of your sweater and you let him slip it ouf of you. He's pleased to find out you are not wearing a bra. You feel his shaky breath on your exposed chest, making goosebumps spread through it even before his lips start leaving wet, open mouthed kisses on your skin. He palms your ass through your jeans, and you so generiously unzip them and take them off before you venture downwards again, bare knees against the carpet now.

His hand find its way to your head in a generous pat, fingers caressing your scalp in gratitude. You look up at him and he feels a chill down his spine, it makes him straighten on his seat. Your hands go up and down his legs a few times before you grab at the waistband of his sweats, and he eagerly lifts his hips before you have time to ask for permission. You pull them down, leaving him on his probably overpriced plain t-shirt and underwear. You can see the outline of it, half hard pressing against the fabric. It’s like a gift on a Christmas morning, the wait to open it as sweet as what’s inside. Your hands softly knead at his thighs, massaging the tired muscles underneath.

“You’ve worked so hard”

You kiss the inside of his thigh. Short, sweet kisses over the soft flesh. You feel him open his legs wider and you smile against his skin. You get closer, letting your nose nudge at his bulge, enjoying the way he sighs in anticipation. You look up at him, and the sight of him above you, pupils blown despite the tiredness on his body has you pushing your knees further apart.

“Are you ready?” you ask playfully, and he nods.

Your fingers sneak past the elastic of his boxers, and you pull them all the way down, throwing them somewhere in the floor. It’s not the first time you’ve seen it, but it’s the first time that you can touch it freely. Hongjoong sucks in a shallow breath when your fingers curl around it, it escapes in a wanton moan when you kiss the metal piece decorating his red rip. It feels cold in contrast to the heat of his member. The taste of salt and sweat on your tongue as you drag it from to base to the tip makes you moan, and you feel his hips buck when you suck at it. Your lips wrap around the tip, playfully circling it with your tongue a few times before taking it deeper inside your mouth. Hongjoong’s hand grabs onto your hair, it stings. It feels so good, too. The moan it draws from your throat reverberates on his cock, and he can’t help but to push himself deeper inside you, making you gag.

“Sorry” he says, his voice faint.

You pull him out of your mouth with a sweet, nasty pop before your eyes look up at him.

“You taste so good, you know that?”

A sound like a whimper comes out of him as he smiles at you with cloudy eyes. He loves the way your hand softly caresses at his thigh.

“Yeah?”

You nod, still stroking him, making sure to rub your thumb over the piercing when you reach the tip. The action draws a shaky breath from him, and it takes everything in you to not choke yourself on it on purpose. Some other time. Not now. You need to take him sweetly into your mouth, flattening your tongue against his cock and taking him in at the most torturous pace. You can’t help but to moan all the way down, the subtle outline of his veins against your tongue, the cute noises coming from Hongjoong above you as he tries to not fuck your face making you open your legs wider against the soft carpet.

“Stop, stop” Hongjoong gently pushes you away from him, and the way your brows knit over your pretty eyes as you look up at him makes him feel guilty “Or I’ll finish”

Your bottom lip protrudes in a slight pout, but you comply. You stand up, and he backs himself until his back is against the headboard, eyes never leaving your body.

“We can’t let that happen” you crawl towards him, knees sinking in the mattres and caging him underneath you “You need to cum inside”

A pathetic moan rips through Hongjoong's throat and his nails dig on the fat of your hips where he has anchored himself. He pulls you towards him, a bit roughly.

”Are you sure?”

“I don’t want you to do it anyhwere else. You are never cumming anywhere else” you murmur against his temple with a soft kiss, and he understands. The possessiveness, the promise, the leash round his neck. He’s okay with it. All of it “Want to see it go in?”

Hongjoong nods, his hair tickling at your neck and chest. He's panting just by watching you align yourself with him. You are both familiar with the feeling of his tip pressing against your entrance, having tortured each other multiple times by doing just that. The moment you start lowering yourself onto his lenght though, your breath hitches and so does his. Despite how much he wants to witness it going in, his eyes close the moment he feels his tip getting sucked in by your hungry, welcoming pussy. It's wet, and tight and so warm around him, his brain is shuting down any sense that isn't touch, comitting the feeling to memory. The initial resistance is barely there, and the unfamiliar feeling of his piercing dragging inside your walls causes you to let out a surprised moan, making your hips halt.

“Okay?” he pants.

You nod, reassuring him. Your face is already so red when you look down at him, and the way your chest heaves up and down so close to his face making his mouth water.

“It feels different”

He's not really listening. His mouth opens and sucks at your nipple with a moan.

“Good?” he asks with his lips pressed against your sternum before dragging his tongue all over your breast, playing with the soft flesh of it.

Your hand goes to his neck, gently pushing at it until he lets go of your tits and looks at you. His eyes, open and glossy and pleading look at you with so much adoration, so much desperation.

“You feel so fucking good” you almost cry "You are not even in yet"

A low moan dies at his throat, but you can feel it where your hand is still gently choking him. You sink lower, moaning into each other's mouth at how easily you bottom out, his cock practically slipping inside. He fills you up so perfectly, hot and hard and you can still feel the small piece pressing against your inside, deliciously poking at your walls. It’s making you delirious, you can feel the heat breaking through your body like a fever. You can see it in Hongjoong too, his chest and cheeks flaring red like a rash.

“Can you feel it?” he asks, pressing his palm against your lower stomach like he's trying to feel it too.

You bit your lip and nod, savoring the feeling and clenching around him to give him a taste.

"I can feel it all the way, it touches me so good"

Your words make Hongjoong grab at your hair and push you towards him in a hungry kiss with a low groan. Your pussy can't help but clench around him when his tongue disgustingly sucks at yours. One hand fists at your hair, pressing your face against his so he can push his tongue deep inside your mouth, almost as if he's trying to fuck your throat with it. It's suffocating: the way your moans choke on his tongue, your mixed drool falling from your joined lips down your chins. It's got your pussy spasming. Hongjoong lets go and you gasp for air, a few threads of saliva linking your abused lips. The sight of you like that has him moaning loudly, the sound obscenely reverberating through the walls in the otherwise silent room.

God, you haven't even started to move yet.

When he feels your hips lift, his gaze immediately goes down, eyes trained on the way his dick goes back inside, sliding inside your pussy with a noise so sinful that a breathy, laughter-like moan escapes him. You back your hips down to the base, rolling them in a way that has you both grabbing at each other, nails digging into flesh without much care. His skin feels warm to the touch, already sweaty. Your hips have found their pace, rolling and dragging with the only thought of wanting his piercing to hit that sweet spot inside, never wanting to let it go. Hongjoong’s dick is buried deep inside, his pubic hair rubbing against your clit ever so slightly with every desperate roll of your hips. You fuck him at a frantic pace, making sure to moan right into his ear. You know how much he loves that.

You feel Hongjoong’s hands prompting you to slide up, but you bury your head on his neck with a shake.

“No” you whine “I need it inside” Hongjoong’s dick twitches at your words, and it makes you violently clench around it with a pathetic moan. You don't want to drag it out, not even one bit. You want the feeling of his piercing deep inside, deliciously rubbing against your insides over and over again “It feels so good, it feels so so s-good”

“I want to watch it go in again” he pleads, hands despairingly grabbing at your hips. You feel obliged to give him what he wants.

You lift your hips, but his bliss in interrupted when he feels his dick pulling out of you. The way his nails dig into your flesh hurts, his desperate grip and scared, confused eyes softening your heart. You want to give him all he wants. Forever. He can take whatever he needs. You lie in front of him, propping yourself on your forearms to look at him through your open, inviting legs. He doesn’t know where to stare. Your pretty face and puppy-like eyes, or your pussy full on display to him, desperate.

He crawls to you like a madman, the sight making him forget what his original wish was. Hongjoong wastes no time getting on his stomach and burying his tongue in your soaked cunt, the fricition of the sheet against his dick prompting him to rut against them. You moan in surprise, the delicious wet feeling of his tonge pressing at your entrance making your toes curl.

"It tastes so much better like this" he says, his fingers toying with your pussy and spreading it wide for him "It tastes so much better when it's fucked"

You whimper at his words, at the way he rubs at your clit the way he has learned to. He’s inside you in one swift, desperate thrust, like he might die if he's not inside you. He feels like he might. Hongjoong gets back to his senses when you kiss him softly, as if bringing him down to earth. He's panting over you, a few loose strands of hair covering his pretty, glassy eyes. You caress his scalp, tugging a bit.

“You said you wanted to look at it”

He nods, like he just remembered. Both your eyes fall in between you two. Hongjoong parts your knees before his hands move to the back of your thighs. He pulls out slowly, mouth watering at the slick covering his cock. He waits until he can see the piercing pop up, the head is almost out when you protest.

“Put it back in”

You push your hips, and he wants to ruin you so badly. The head goes back in, the yet unfamiliar feeling of the metal dragging at your walls making your face twist in a way that has Hongjoong losing control and putting it all the way in. He presses as hard and deep as possible, bending your knees against your chest so hard you can feel them cramping. It draws a loud moan from you, almost like a yelp.

“Is that okay?” he asks, worried.

You make eye contact, and you say nothing else. Your arms come to hold onto the back of his neck, bringing him close to you, burying your heads in each other's necks.

“Deeper” you demand.

“It can’t go deeper”

“I want it” you almost cry. You know he’s right, you know that, and yet “Please?” you beg.

He can’t deny it. Even if you ask him the impossible, he’ll give it to you. He’ll find a way.

He lets his weight do the job, pushing your knees almost next to your ears. His hipbones dig onto your ass as he tries to push into you impossibly deep.

“Fucking... heaven” he breaks into a moan.

“Do I feel good?” you ask, out of your mind.

Hongjoong laughs, genuinely. He has lost his mind too. It’s the way you clench around him. The warmth, the tightness, your body against his, your voice echoing in his head. The moment his hips start dragging against yours he knows he's gone.

“I don’t want to cum” he says it like he’s stopping himself from doing so at that very moment, begging himself not to “I want to stay like this-- keep ah-- keep fucking you” he drags his hips against you, never letting himself pull out too much “Cum inside you” he pants “Over and over again. Forever”

Your moans have started to sound like cries. He had been right about doing this at a hotel. If it had been your apartment, or anywhere else, someone might have called the cops. You can feel how damp the sheets are underneath, you have made such a mess already. The sound gives it away: wet, loud, embarrassing. With Hongjoong never pulling away, the pressure never eases. His piercing digging into the perfect spot over and over again, you keep clenching around him.

”Fuck me” you cry “I need you to fuck me”

He hears you, and he obeys.

“I have to put out a bit for that” he apologizes against your ear.

“No!” you stupidly hold harder onto him.

“-'m sorry”

He parts from you, grabbing your arms and unlocking them from his neck with more ease than he expected. He presses both your wrists against the soft bed before gently asking you with a soft touch to lay on your stomach. You obey with a whimper, anticipation making your damp thighs tremble.

You prop your ass up, but with a gentle hand he presses down on your tailbone to where your clit graces the satin sheets. He exhales with a shaky breath, like he can’t believe he gets to do this finally. This is how he has always wanted to do it. All the times he had fantasized about bending you over and humping you like a dog were finally coming true. That’s all he is and deserves to be to you. A pathetic bitch you allow to fuck you, because you are so kind and sweet to him like this. His hands knead at the flesh of your ass with reverence, his mouth open and letting out quiet, barely audible whimpers. He pushes your cheeks apart, eyes set on the way your pussy comes into view, waiting for him to fill it up. Your lips part with some difficulty, the slick and precum making them stick together. Hongjoong thinks it looks so pretty, red and swollend and fucked like that.

Your hands fist into the sheets when he puts his whole length inside, the throaty whine he lets out earning another clenching around his hard cock. He watches it go in slowly, and realizing how much he's drooling he lets his spit fall to where your cunt is sucking his cock in with almost a mind of his own.

He presses his palms on the small of your back, hips bucking and dragging against your ass every time he pounds his cock deep inside you. He needs to close his eyes to not cum. The way you are moaning, the screams muffled by the pillows. The sound his hips make against your ass mixing with that of your leaking pussy getting abused over and over again. The way your hands are blindly reaching backwards, attempting to get a hold on him. It’s already doing too much.

“No” he groans, you feel his forehead press against your shoulder. His pace falters, but it never stops. The weight of his whole body on you and his cock buried deep inside you is making you drool onto the bed “I’m going to cum”

He’s apologetic, yet his hips never halt. He can’t control himself, not when you feel like this.

“Cum inside me”

“Don’t say that” he begs.

“I want it inside, please”

He cries into your ear, loud and pathetic. You are familiar with that sound by then, the way his body trembles and stiffens. You are not familiar with the warm feeling of hot threads of cum pressed deep inside your cunt, but you welcome it with a string of whimpers. You clench around him over and over again, ripping moans against your ear from him every single time as he unloads inside you.

“I’m sorry” he says, it breaks your heart.

"It's okay, it’s oaky” He feels you shift and start getting up, and he worries for a second while his mind is still cloudy. He gets to a sitting position, and when you feel him slipping out you desperately grab onto him, hands on his thigh “No, don’t get out!”

A bit lost and still riding his high, Hongjoong lets you handle him, lying on his back and with his head almost hanging from the edge. Truth is, you don’t care, and neither does he when he sees how you start riding him again without ever pulling out. His cock is too sensitive, the piercing definitely working his magic on him as well. It makes his hands pull at his hair as he watches your pretty ass grinding against him, his cum spilling from your cunt and onto the base of his cock with the most disgusting noises he’s ever heard. He watches you ride it with his mouth open, the overstimulation making his hands shake where they try to settle on your waist. You use his cock to fuck yourself on it, nails digging on the bedsheets as you frantically slam your ass against his hips. He lets you use him, his head hanging from the bed with an euphoric glint in his eyes as he stares up at the ceiling, tears of pleasure dangling at the corners of his eyes. The bed shakes with the violent, hysterical way you fuck him until you cum, loud and shameful and so in love with him.

He finds strength to push himself up, kneeling behind you with his arms lazily embracing your waist as his head rests on your shoulder, leaving open-mouthed kisses while you try to catch your breath.

“I love you” he mutters against your ear “please” he begs, not sure as to what for.

Whatever it is, you’ll give it to him.

“I love you too”

--

It still smelled of that strange air freshener that always made you a bit nauseous when mixed with Hongjoong’s signature cologne, and the seatbelt still felt sharp and uncomfortable on your neck. For some reason you had almost expected the car to have changed somehow, just like with Hongjoong. Sitting there with everything above the surface apparently as it was felt like playing pretend. You had expected for him to drive you into one of the usual shops around town you were already acquainted with, so when he had taken that turn into the highway you had started to get suspicious.

“Can’t get it done anywhere here” he had said “Has to be a real professional”

You had raised an eyebrow at him. He answered, or more like avoided most of your questions without taking his eyes out of the road for even a second. Hongjoong was surprisingly a good driver when he wanted to, but the way his eyes stayed glued straight ahead seemed to be more of an excuse to not look at you. However it might have just been the awkwardness between you two, a conversation to be had that you both were avoiding. Is not like you didn’t want to have it, in fact you had already had the conversation in your mind multiple times after he had texted you “wanna come get a piercing?” after two months of silence. In the end you had just sent “sure” and all the things you had planned to say you had left outside when you had closed the car door.

“Damn” you kicked an empty Monster can that pilled among other things at your feet on the passenger seat “What are you getting?”

“You’ll see. Well...” he trailed off, a soft chuckle as result of a joke you weren’t a part of yet “Not really, I guess”

“...okay?” You could tell without even asking. The eyebags under his eyes, his unkempt hair, the bitterness of the laugh that had just escaped his lips. He wasn’t over it. He wasn’t over her. After all, it had only been a week “You are not doing like, anything crazy, right?”

“Define crazy”

“I don’t know, like... I don’t want you to get something you’ll regret when you forget about her in a month”

“I don’t regret any of these" You had known Hongjoong ever since his skin had been bare, watching as ink left its mark in him one tattoo at a time. You could recollect every single one by memory, even those fans would never get to see. Her name fell from his lips after a brief silence, catching you off guard "That was her name”

“I know”

Of course you did. How could you not when she had been the last thing Hongjoong had talked about before it all went down. She had been a “miracle” as Hongjoong had called her, a meeting brought by fate at some event. You had seen her on his finsta stories, never in person. Embarrassingly, you had stalked her profile a few times like a complete masochist. You didn’t know much about her though, as Hongjoong seemed too busy to keep you updated on the relationship once she had agreed to go out with him. It had lasted about two months, which was within the usual window of time that it took Hongjoong’s relationships to end. It was always like this. Passionately fall for a girl, crash and burn, and then this: new addition to Hongjoong’s body. Well, this time there had been a slight change, but neither of you would bring it up.

“She was okay”

“I wouldn’t know” it pissed you off how you were supposed to be walking on eggshells around him, a little biting wouldn’t hurt him. You could tell it had though. Still, the car drive would be a nightmare if the mood got completely sour, so you decided to liven it up with a joke "Just don't get a full black sleeve or something like that just because your manager isn't here”

Hongjoong seemed to appreciate the breather.

“I know, don't worry. But it is... special”

There it was again, that lower register in his voice. You knew him all too well to understand that there was something that was troubling him. The idea of him doing something absurd for a girl he’d dated for two months pissed you off. That she could be that important while you were the backup friend he'd use when he needed someone to tag along. It made you feel worse that you had actually come to him.

“You sure you are not doing anything weird?”

“Can you stop worrying?”

“Well can you stop fucking around for a second?” Hongjoong looked out of his window, hands gripping the wheel a bit tighter, rings reflecting the sunlight. It didn’t feel good to snap at him, especially not when he was in a vulnerable state like that. But how long could you indulge him? How long could you silently forgive him? “Actually I have no idea why you asked me to come” Hongjoong didn’t look at you, his eyes glued to the asphalt and body stiff under your gaze. You sighed and looked out of the window, giving up “I guess time out is over”

The direct sunlight blinded you for a moment before you closed your eyes. You crossed your arms over your chest as it rose up and down with a heavy sigh. Hongjoong eyed you through the corner of his eye, his tongue slowly wetting his lips as if getting ready to say something. Whatever it was it felt heavy on his chest.

“I need someone with me” he murmured loud enough for you to hear, a slight shakiness in his voice “Someone I trust”

You opened your eyes and turned to him, catching his a second before he set them back ahead. There was worry but also determination.

“Okay, you are really freaking me out now”

“I am making it sound worse than it is, trust me”

“Then why don’t you just tell me?”

“It’s... complicated. Listen, I just--” he shrugged, hands leaving the wheel for a second “I can’t ask anyone else. It has to be you”

Far from easing your worries, the bare rawness of his voice worried you even more.

“Okay, stop the car. You are acting crazy”

“I keep making it sound weird but it’s true, okay?” he cackled somehow genuinely at your reaction “And if we get there and you don’t want to hold my hand you can wait outside but...” his shoulders shook with a brief shrug, then a short pause “It’ll hurt less knowing you are there”

You hated how much his words affected you.

“You really are not going to tell me”

“I sort of, maybe... want to see the face you make when you find out”

You saw the smile tug at the corner of his lips, the first one you’d seen since getting in the car. The first one you’d seen in months that didn’t come from a picture with him and his ex on his instagram story.

“Oh... so you are fucking with me. Thank god, I was starting to get worried. Turns out you are just your usual asshole self”

“If it ain’t broken, don’t fix it”

You shook your head with a scoff “Idiot”

You felt his eyes on you, the silence still tense but somewhat lighter.

“Thank you for coming, though”

You bit your lip and your eyes wandered to the landscape across your window again.

“Had nothing better to do”

-

The tattoo shop was by far the most professional looking you had ever seen Hongjoong step into. The receptionist even smiled at the both of you as he saw you come in. You sat on the red velvet couch propped against the black wall, perfectly decorated with framed designs and art pieces in clean, minimalistic frames. Hongjoong walked towards you with the paperwork to sign in hand and sat next to you, closer than you had expected him to. You were still walking on eggshells around him, but he didn’t seem to be doing the same. He should have. He should be the one worried about making the wrong move, say the wrong thing, sit too close to you. And yet there he was, elbows propped on his knees that bruised against yours like it was okay to just do so. Like the last two months hadn’t happened. You both got taken into the room almost immediately where a man in his mid-thirties welcomed you two with a warm, formal smile The smell of sterilizer hit your nose almost as strongly as the white light had hurt your eyes. There was a black tattoo bed in the middle of the room where you assumed Hongjoong would sit, with two small stools resting nearby.

“We already went over all the details during your consultation and I trust you read the paperwork as well. I know you are familiar with all this but I just want to make sure you are ready”

“Yes sir, I am”

Whether it was anticipation or fear you couldn’t tell, but you knew him well enough to hear the nervousness behind the casualness of his voice.

“Okay! Get comfortable on the bed and pull down your underwear. You need to get erect for me to work the piece so I’ll give you guys a few minutes”

What?

You hadn’t said that aloud, and yet Hongjoong turned towards you like he had heard you. All color drained from his face as he saw the artist leave the room, the soft click of the door as it closed the last noise that room heard for a few seconds as you both stayed still.

“I did not think about that” Hongjoong finally said, pointing towards the door “Fuck, I should have told you earlier. I’m sorry” he passed both his hands through his hair, messy strands of freshly dyed black hair standing in all directions “This is fucking weird. I’m sorry, I--”

“What exactly is going on?”

“So... remember that idea I mentioned a year ago?” he asked hesitantly, forcing a smile

It took you a bit of effort to remember, and then your mouth fell open.

“You are out of your mind” your eyes unconsciously traveled down to his black sweats before you shut them tightly, attempting to compose yourself and ignore the heat creeping up your face “You brought me for this?”

“No! I didn’t-- shit, the plan was for you to just hold my hand” he held your gaze, and you saw the confidence leave him as his eyes moved somewhere else in the room as the reality of the situation seemed to hit him “Or you can wait outside, as I said--”

“What the fuck” you said, attempting to make sense of the situation. Of course. Only Hongjoong could get you both in a situation like this “Is that why you said I was the only one you could ask?”

“No, fuck. I’m sorry, seriously. I didn’t think of this. Shit” he laughed nervously “You can just leave and come back with him, close your eyes and all that” Hongjoong pondered for a moment, just how selfish he could get “Or you can just not come back. I just wanted you to hold my hand while it goes in but it’s okay, it’s stupid ”

No matter how amusing it had been seeing him panic in such a way, the sound of his voice, beaten and ashamed was not something you enjoyed. And yet.

“I should have known it was something crazy when you called me. I mean... after two months? You must have been desperate”

Hongjoong lowered his head, eyes fixed on his beaten black Converse. He blinked a few times and he pinched the bridge of his nose with a deep frown. He shifted his weight where he stood and you just waited.

“I’m sorry” he finally said, voice lower “I should have spoken to you”

You fell quiet, your soft smile and confidence disappearing.

“We already spoke about that”

“Not really. Not properly”

“It was nothing, Hongjoong”

“I shouldn’t have kissed you”

You sucked in your bottom lip, chest feeling tight.

“I said it was nothing”

You had said that. You both had.

Back in the same car you both had driven to the tattoo shop in. He had driven you home after one of your regular late night hang outs. Car drive, radio on and a “goodnight” that had stretched until early in the morning. You could still see him as he had been, head turned to you on the driver seat, smile wide as he laughed at something you couldn’t quite recall. The engine had been turned off a while ago when you both had realized the conversation would last longer than expected once again. That had been the night he had told you about the “miracle girl”, every detail he gave you about her making a bit more nauseous. There were years of practice to the way you could smile at Hongjoong as he spoke to you about other girls, but there was nothing you could do about the suffocating pressure of your chest whenever he did so. Your body had been turned to him, seatbelt unlocked, simply watching him under the dim light of a distant street lamp. It hurt every time you realized how much you loved him, and as you always did when the truth hit you, you became small and felt inadequate no matter what you said or did. You always tried to run away from him when that happened.

“I didn’t even have to ask for her number, she just gave it to me!”

“That’s bold” you matched his tone, hoping that would make lying easier. It usually did.

“Right? I don’t know. It was kind of hot”

“I bet. It’s your lucky day”

You wish you could have said the same thing. Your shift at work had been an absolute nightmare, the kind that made you want to lock yourself in the bathroom and angry cry for a few minutes. Your whole week had been like that, really. The only thing that had made it bearable was the plans you had made with Hongjoong on a rare spot where he was schedule-free, and now there you were: listening to him talk about how he had met the woman of his dreams that also happened to be really interested in him. You wished you could be an adult and be happy for him, but you were just a person, and the fact you couldn’t bring yourself to do so made you feel like a terrible one.

“You good?”

Hongjoong sounded worried, and when you finally rose your head to look at him he looked like it too. You hadn’t realized you had zoned out, lips wrapped around the straw of your empty drink and eyes fixed somewhere far away.

“Yeah, sorry. I’m just tired”

Hongjoong shifted on his seat and fully turned to you.

“You wanna talk about it?”

Of course you couldn’t fool Hongjoong. He knew you too well. That’s why it scared you so much whenever your act slipped even if just a bit. He would know.

You forced a smile, your acting not as sharp under the scrutiny “I’m fine, sorry. I’m excited for you, really” you had said, with the type of casualness that took effort. He had stilled at that, as if you had said something wrong. You had noticed the look he’d give you sometimes when you did things like these, like he somehow knew something was wrong. His eyes would scan your face for something, and it worried you that one day he might find it. Maybe he had already. You felt the familiar overwhelming feeling creep up on you, and you knew you couldn’t bear it much longer “Is late and all we are doing is talking so...”

You were looking for a way to finish the sentence and excuse yourself when he interrupted. His voice was low and the words stuck together with a mix of heat and confidence.

“Got any other suggestions?”

The heat crept from your chest to your face so quickly you almost felt feverish. You let out a nervous giggle and Hongjoong’s lips stretched into a smile, his heavy lided eyes dragging from your avoiding eyes to your lips that were still toying with the straw. Hongjoong took the empty cup from your hands and dropped it somewhere at his feet. The sudden silence in the car had made your heart start racing, and you would have said another stupid thing to break the tension if he hadn’t leaned over and kissed you. His lips pressed against yours, shut tight and a bit dry, nothing like you had imagined a hundred times before. His fingers buried themselves on your hair, stiff at first, then loosened when you hummed in satisfaction. He pulled away just enough to let you say something, and when you didn’t he kissed you again, tongue briefly draging along your lips. The sound of your mixed jaded breathing felt loud and obscene in the dead quiet of the car, and the idea that someone could pass by and see you through the windows worried you and excited you all the same. The idea that someone could see you kissing Hongjoong is one you had fantasized about for so long it felt ridiculous by then, and yet there he was, moaning against your lips and hand gently dragging up and down your knee before making its way upwards to your tigh. His thumb brushed along your jeans before he pulled away enough to whisper:

“This okay?”

His voice made you giddy, so close and low and hot against your mouth. You got to nod only once before a bright light blinded you, making you both wince and turn to it. It’s was his phone that vibrated against the holder with an incoming call. Her name was displayed in bold black letters against the white background. There was a few seconds in which you had to make a choice, and as usual the one you took was the easy one that would cause you the most pain. You just laughed.

“Calling at two in the morning? You better pick that up”

The muscles pulling at your smile ached, and the strain to keep your voice steady hurt your throat. You pulled away from Hongjoong, in more ways than one. He could feel it immediately. The coldness, the distance.

“I mean... it’s just--”

“It’s okay Hongjoong” you had already opened the door, body turned away from him and your leg already on the ground “I'm cool on you”

That had been the last time you both had seen each other. There had been some awkward texting trying to emulate a casual conversation for a few days before he told you he was dating that girl, and then the conversation had died until he had asked you to come get the piercing with him.

“I’m sorry” he repeated, a bit louder, shakier. He looked at you from barely a few feet away, but the distance between you two felt bigger and way colder “You can wait in the car if you want. I’ll take you home later. Or I can call you an uber and you can leave now”

You didn’t want to leave, and despite everything, you didn’t want things to be like this.

“Hongjoong, I’d do this for you any time, but...” you hestitated, and you understood why he couldn’t look at you as you found yourself avoiding his eyes too. It was shame, fear “Getting a new girlfriend and shutting me off for months only to ask me to come here and do this? Like you knew I’d come back to you like a lap dog?” you felt your jaw quiver, cutting your speech short “It doesn’t feel great”

“That wasn’t my intention. I just wanted to see you” Hongjoong scoffed “That’s kind of w...” Hongjoong trailed off and silence settled once again “I kept talking about you” he finally said “That’s why we broke up”

You stared at him, and to your surpise he was looking at you. You saw his pupils shake, but he didn’t look away, no matter how much he wanted to.

“What a stupid reason” you whispered.

“Yeah”

Your arms unfolded and fell to your sides.

“Do you want me wait outside?”

A shrug.

“Do you want to leave?”

“I asked first”

“I asked second”

You both laughed softly, and for a moment it all felt like it’d all be alright. You pondered for a few seconds before you walked to the door and disappeared behind it. Hongjoong nodded, more to himself than to you.

“Fucking stupid” he muttered to himself as he pulled down his sweats, just as the door opened and you entered the room again “Shit! What--”

Hongjoong hurried to pull his pants up again, hitting the stools and making a crashing noise reverberate through the room as he fell forward on the bed. You would have laughed if you hand’t been fighting the dizziness that came with your eyes quickly snapping to the other side of the room. You had seen nothing, and you needed to keep telling yourself that so the heat wouldn’t turn your cheeks bright red.

“Sorry! I should have knocked. I asked him if he could give us a few more minutes”

“Wh--”

He looked completely lost and embarrassed as he straightened up. His hands were still tightly gripping the waistband of his pants as he saw you walk inside the room and towards him.

“You are all depressed now, there’s no way you are going to get hard so--”

“Wow, can you not say that?” he asked with almost a wince, his eyes closed tightly as if you were the one suddenly undressing in front of him with no warning.

You gave him a confused look.

“What? Get hard?” a crooked smile spread across your face as you saw the slight pink at the tip of his ears “I’m pretty sure you’ve heard worse things”

“Yeah, not from you. It feels... wrong”

“What happened to ‘it has to be you’” you mocked.

“I meant for you to hold my hand”

You pursed your lips, furrowing your brows in confusion.

“So you don’t need any help?”

“What? What do you mean?”

“I sort of... thought that’s what you actually meant when you asked me if I wanted to stay”

You could see the gears turning in his head, painfully slowly.

“No! No, I’d never--” Hongjoong closed his mouth, then opened it again “I mean, not... never”

“Whatever, Hongjoong. I’m a woman. I’m your friend. It’s cool with me” you said, feigning aloofness “You can just... touch me or something, imagine I’m her or whoever. I don’t know”

Hongjoong stared at you for what felt like minutes before he spoke again.

“You are crazy”

“Actually, I am ‘the only one you could ask’”

“Stop it, I’m going to kill you” the threat was loud and genuine, but you could also see the way his eyes scanned your body in one swift look before falling silent again.

His eyes wandered around the room. You bit your lip, worried that this was it. Everything could break apart in an instant, the fate of your friendship at the tip of Hongjoong’s tongue.

“He’s going to charge you over time” you joked, trying to backtrack.

“Shut up”

Silence again.

“Hongjoong” you called for him in a soft voice, and he finally looked at you “I can leave, it’s okay. I’ll be on the other side when--”

“No” he instinctively took a step forward, as if you were going to walk away “It’s fine is just...”

You didn’t notice when Hongjoong had walked backwards towards the bed, bringing you with him as his hand still held your arm. He had sat down on the bed and as he rested his back against the back of it you knew he wouldn’t say anything else. There was no need for it. He let go of you and sat with his hands resting over his lap as if he didn’t know what to do with himself. He was looking at you, waiting for you to approach him. Under any circumstances you would have laughed, but you just crossed the distance and stood closer to him.

“Where did that big talk go?” he joked, the excitement and nervousness evident in his voice.

You panicked for a moment, the situation becoming real all too suddenly.

“Do you want to make out or...?”

“I don’t know what we are doing” he said and you laughed together “But it feels good”

“I haven’t even touched you yet”

“You are gonna touch me?” he said, halfway between a question and a plea.

You absentdmindedly reached for his hair, burying your fingers in the soft black locks while trying to ease your own heartbeat. The moment your fingertips had ran through the base of his scalp he stilled, a shiver running down his back. Hongjoong inhaled softly and deeply, eyes fluttering before fixating on your lips.

“Is that alright?”

Your voice was low, the question spoken like a secret. Hongjoong nodded lazily, face dangerously close to yours. 

“Feels good”

His voice dived an octave lower, which you took as an invitation to drag your nails a bit further through his scalp. Hongjoong shifted on his seat and he closed his eyes. You took in his features, still the same as you had remembered these last few months, and yet something had changed. Maybe it had been you.

“I missed you” you confessed with a shaky breath.

“Me too”

“Don’t do that again”

Your fingers grabbed onto his hair, softly pulling at the locks and earning a sharp inhale from him. Hongjoong opened his eyes, brown eyes piercing through yours, eyelids heavy.

“I won’t”

He brought his hand to your waist, taking a moment to gauge your reaction. You expected him to have reached higher, towards the thin lace of your bra. He could have felt the drumming of your heart against your chest, almost begging to be felt. Instead he drew his fingers across your waist, his hand hesitantly sneaking underneath your top and caressing your lower back. Goosebumps covered every inch of your skin, you were sure Hongjoong would be able to see it. His eyes darted around your body, seeing it stiffen as his fingers caressed further up your back with lazy moves. His head fell forward, almost resting against your shoulder, nested against your neck. You felt the hot fanning of a breathing against your neck, and Hongjoong saw your swallow before his eyes fluttered shut as he stirred on his seat. The motion made his nose bump against your neck, and your hand instinctively held his shoulder as if you thought he would fall, fingernails digging slightly into his skin when you felt the softeness of his lips brush against your ear for just a second. Then again, a bit bolder but hesitant chaste kiss to your neck with a soft noise.

You felt his shoulder muscles under his skin as he moved his arm, followed by the rustling of clothes. He struggled awkwardly for a few seconds in which his grip on your waist tightened. The side of his face felt burning hot against your neck, and you wondered if he was embarrassed.

“Do you need help?”

“No” he was lying “I’ve got it”

The hand on his shoulder ventured downwards, anticipation jolted through your body before you had time to feel ashamed of it. You felt the hard bits of the old band t-shirt Hongjoong wore, the name faded away and rough under your fingertips. You felt his chest rise up and still as your hand stayed there for a second, feeling the faint drumming of his fast heartbeat, before continuing your way down. The fanning of his breath against your neck stopped and his body froze when he felt you push his hand that was resting on his crotch to the side. His other hand that had been low on your back, pinky finger toying with the hem of your jeans stopped altogether. Saying he was half hard would have been an understatement. It felt hot as you palmed it softly over his sweats. A soft whine escaped his lips, so pathetic you felt it directly between your legs. You stilled for a moment, savoring and processing the sound of it. It must have been too long because with a hot sigh Hongjoong's hand rested on top of yours, squeezing himself with your hand in a silent, desperate and pathetic plea. You palmed him, a bit drunk on how desperate he felt, head limp on the crook of your neck, his body so hot you could feel it. His fingernails digged slightly on your lower back as he whined against your ear, holding onto you as if steadying himself. You could feel yourself getting wet. If this was the state you were both in by simply touching each other over clothes, just how much--

Hongjoong moaned against your neck when you passed your fingers under the waistband of his sweats. Of course he wasn't wearing underwear, it would be too uncomfortable after the piercing was done. His skin felt hot, sweat making it a bit sticky too. When you finally grabbed his cock his mouth opened in a silent moan. He was hard by now, heavy under your touch, gratefully twitching when you had started dragging your hand painfully slowly. He was dragging his tongue through your neck in open mouth kisses, lost in the way you pumped him slowly.

"Can I put it out?" you asked, sounding way hornier than you wanted him to know. He shook his head, but the way his hand gripped at the flesh of your waist told you the idea was somewhat to his liking "I want to see it"

He thrust himself into your hand, giving himself away almost like it had been an accident. He moaned weakly into your neck, and soon he found himself doing it again, and again, and again. The chair rocked slightly, the frantic screeching of its swaying filling the room and giving away the pathetic way Hongjoong was fucking himself into your hand, holding onto you for dear life. His hands gripped at your shoulders and waist, putting you at a very uncomfortable position, but the sound of his panting on your ears and the feeling of his now slick cock desperately thrusting onto your hand was too exhilarating for you to care. Then you heard his airy voice against the shell of your ear, loud and hot. It sent the most pleasant chills down your spine.

“You can tell him to come in”

You both could tell neither of you wanted to stop, but he knew he'd cum if he thrust into you even once more. You put your hand away, resting it against his chest to stabilize yourself. His clothes felt strangely warm, and the feeling of his fast heartbeat strangely flattering. You expected him to look away when you pulled away from him but he didn’t, his clouded eyes stuck to you like a madman. He fixated on the way your chest rose up and down, your exposed waist where he had lifted your top, the small wet patch on your neck where he had drooled. Your chest, where he seemed to regret not touching you. Your flushed face and hazy eyes staring down at him, mirroring his.

“Hurry, or I’ll finish” he moaned against your mouth.

You turned around and exited the room under Hongjoong’s burning gaze. It felt embarrassing to call for the artist in such a state, wondering if he'd know. When you entered the room your eyes stayed glued to the floor until you had been next to Hongjoong, his hand warm holding tightly onto yours. It felt so strange doing this after what had just happened. The metallic clanking behind you made you shiver and you tried not to think about what would be going down soon. Next to you, Hongjoong’s eyes were glued to the ceiling, the strong white light reflecting on his glassy blue eyes.

“It’ll be just a moment” his eyes fell onto you and despite the nervousness still evident in them, they softened “You are going to look so cool”

His grip on your hand tightened. It really was just a moment, but to Hongjoong it probably felt way longer than it had been. Your hand would hurt for a while after the way he had held onto it, but you wouldn’t tell him that. His jaw tensed as he held in a pained cry, and despite not being able to see what was going on, the implication made you wince. A single tear streamed down his cheek, softly wiped them away by you. His breathing seemed to steady as you heard the familiar sound of gloves being pulled out.

“All done. Bleeding for a few days will be normal, it’s nothing to worry about. Clean the wound twice a day, dry it gently, don’t touch the piece, the usual. No swimming. No oral or penetrative sex for a month" none of you said anything, but you both were obviously disappointed "Erections are okay but there might be some bleeding too... I think that’s it. I’ll let you fix yourself and I’ll be waiting outside, okay? See you in a minute, guys”

“Thanks” Hongjoong’s voice was raspy but he felt alright “Wait outside, I’ll be right there”

“Okay”

-

You had expected for Hongjoong to walk with a bit more difficulty than he did, but despite the slight hint of discomfort on his face there weren’t many tells. He might be able to hide it from the members after all. After Hongjoong had arranged for his follow up visit you both exited the place, the clear mid-day sky welcoming you despite the chill air. You expected things to get awkward, but it surprised you how much you both just seemed horny and frustrated.

“You hungry?” Hongjoong asked as he fished inside of his jacket for his car keys.

“I could go for a bite, yeah”

His hand grabbed onto the handle of the driver’s seat and you both sat down inside.

“Thank you. Really” he said.

“No need. And I am sorry”

Hongjoong frowned.

“Sorry for what?”

“For your girlfriend breaking up with you because of me”

His lips shaped into a crooked smile.

“Who said she’s the one who broke up?” You looked at each other for a moment before he leaned forward and he kissed you. It was soft, and slow. So slow that it was obvious it was far from innocent. His eyes trailed down your body with a sigh "What about we go back to your place, actually?"

You bit your lip and shook your head. Your thighs pressed together.

"Didn't you hear what he just said"

"He said no oral and no sex, on me" his eyes bored into yours, hungry "There are so many things I can do for you" his hand rested on your knee, lazily moving upwards "Please?" Your legs parted and his hand eagerly touched your through your jeans. Hongjoon let of a soft groan, even through the thick fabric he could feel the heat "How wet did you get?"

"It's your fault" you complained, aware of the way Hongjoong would soften up at your pouty demeanor from time to time.

"Is it?" he feigned innocently, his fingers uselessly pressing harder over your entrance through the jeans, as if your cunt was desperately calling out to him. It was nothing short of disgusting how horny you both were in plain daylight, parked on the street with people passing by "Should I fix it?"

-

You both tried to make the ride back to your apartment, but thirty minutes proved to be too much. Heat was blinding Hongjoong, eyes darting around like a crazy man, so impatient he'd hit the claxon at any car that took more than one second to floor it after the light turned green. He was trying hard not to touch you with his free hand, and you were busy ignoring how uncomfortably your panties stuck to your pussy. He had driven inside the parking lot of a mall, half empty, as you questioned him.

"I'm sorry" he had said, before finding the emptiest, most secluded part of it and parking against the wall "get in the back" he demanded, but there was desperation underneath it.

He winced like something hurt, and it was then you could see he was fully hard underneath his sweats. You wanted so badly to see the piercing. Touch it, suck around it, feel it deep inside. A moan escaped your mouth just thinking about it as you let yourself fall on the back seat, Hongjoong coming through the door and slamming it behind him. His hands went for your zipper right away, pulling at the waist of off your jeans with impatient hands. You stopped him.

"All the way?" you asked, your panic as strong as how feverishly horny you felt.

"No one will see" he said before he kissed you, mouth open and tongue dragging across it.

Hongjoon moaned at the difficulty he had when he tried to pull your pants down. He had become painfully aware of your plush thighs and pretty ass for a long time now. He had thought about humping you like a dog whenever he took notice of how well fitted your pants were, or when you'd sit down next to him in a playful minskirt. He didn't even think about fucking you, the simple idea of humping your ass, fully clothed and cumming in his boxers was enough for him. The jeans pilled in an awkward way at your ankles, but it was enough for Hongjoong to maneuver. He didn't waste time and pulled your panties to the side. Breath hitched on his throat when his fingers touched your pussy. You could see the blissful surprise in his eyes, locked on yours, before he had to look down to make sure he wasn't going crazy. He trailed his fingers across it, so wet they easily slid across it.

"Fuck" he said in a pained whine, like he couldn't believe his eyes. He closed them for a moment, trying to concentrate on the nasty, slick sounds that embarrassingly filled in the quiet of the car as his fingers spread your lips. It made his dick twitch painfully.

His eyes went back to yours again, as if asking you if this was real. You looked away, embarrassed. It drove him insane, your flushed face, shiny shy eyes and brows furrowed in shame. All while he felt his fingers wet and sticky against your cunt that seemed to be pleading for him to fuck you.

He didn't even try, his fingers seemed to slip inside your pussy with ease, getting sucked in in a way that had you both moaning into each other's mouths. He pulled them out, taking off the rings on his fingers and unceremoniously tossing them somewhere in the car. He put his fingers right back in as deep as he could, his other hand trying to push your knee as far away as the jeans at your feet allowed it. He groaned almost childishly, taking his fingers away again.

"Take the pants off"

He leaned forward to take your shoes off, but you stopped him again.

"What if someone sees"

"The windows are tinted"

It shouldn't have been enough to convince you, but it did the job. You let him take your shoes and jeans off, horny by just seeing how desperate he was to just finger you. He turned you slightly, your back now pressed against the car door, him sitting on the back seat with your pretty pussy in full display for him. Your back hurt, uncomfortable, but the way he was looking at you was worth it. You could see his fully hard dick pressing against his sweats and you knew it must hurt against the restrain. He pushed your knees apart, but you closed them. It almost made you feel bad, the way he looked at you like he had done something wrong. Before he had time to wonder if he had messed up, you said:

"Pull your pants down, friction is going to hurt you"

Hongjoong bit his lips, it did hurt.

"It's okay..." he started saying, until he saw how you pressed your legs together, hiding you from him. The simple act of losing sight of your leaking pussy for even a second seemed to do the trick, his hands quickly pulling the waistband of his sweats down and freeing his hard, red cock. You could faintly see the piercing, glistening faintly under the fluorescents of the parking lot. You pussy clenched around nothing, around the mere thought of fucking his pierced cock deep inside you.

"Do you like it?" he asked, a hint of shyness laced on his heated breath.

"When it gets better, can I fuck it?"

Hongjoong nodded slowly, as if taking in your request. He parted your legs, slightly pressing them against your chest, making you whimper at the nasty way he was eyeing you. With a whimper he went back to trace his fingers across your pussy, tantalizingly slow for someone who was so desperate to be knuckles deep inside you seconds ago.

"I want to spit on it but you don't need it"

You understood then why he had fallen so quiet, why he was toying with your entrance. He was savoring the sound of it. The slick, faint and nasty sound your pussy made whenever he graced his fingers across it. You pushed your hips, almost begging him, and he obeyed. His fingers slid right inside again, this time perfectly going all the way in until his knuckes pressed against the entrance. How he wished he could put more in, fuck you like a pathetic bitch in heat in the back of his car. The way you moaned brought him back to reality. You clenched around him, and he worried he might cum. Slowly he pulled his fingers out, savoring the slick coat of arousal around your fingers before pushing them back in. They filled you up again, your hips moving on their own again. He pumped them inside you slowly, lost in the small pants that left your mouth, your eyes glued to the way his hand got sucked inside your cunt over and over again. His thumb started to press at your clit whenever his fingers went all the way in, and the loud moans you were trying to suppress turned into pathetic cries whenever it did. The cries, the exposure, your hot pussy, the filthy sounds. He was going to cum. He needed to compose himself.

He pulled his fingers out, and you let out a whimper that sounded like a question. He dragged your legs towards him, until he had your back arching across the back seat. His hands grabbed at the neck of your tank top, pulling it down unceremoniously to expose your tits to him. The way he seemed so desperate to do so got you clenching around nothing. His hands moved to them, palming them with a satisfied groan, brows furrowed as he took the whole sight in. You, sprawled in the back seat of his car, chest exposed and your legs open just for him to see and touch, thighs wet with your own arousal. His hands dragged down, nails scratching at your stomach and thighs on their way back to hold the back of your knees against your chest.

"I want to fuck you" he said, as if it were a confession "I've always wanted to fuck you"

Maybe it had been a confession, an apology he felt he'd owe you soon. He winced, and you thought the piercing might hurt, but you understood once you saw and felt him cum on you and the leather seat. A thin string connected his cock to the cum that now covered your gaping pussy. It felt hot, but not as hot as the sight in front of you: Hongjoong hunched forward, head down in shame and panting slightly.

"I'm sorry" he breathed out, an you could tell he was embarrassed.

He heard you groan lowly, and for a second he worried he really had ruined everything, until you said:

"You are so hot"

His head shot up when he felt you grabbing his wrist, coating his fingers on his own cum before moving your hips to fuck yourself onto his hand. Hongjoong moaned loudly in surprise, which startled him so much that he turned around to make sure no one had heard. He brought his attention back to you quickly, not wanting to miss a single second of what was going on inside his car. Neither did you. The sight of his shiny eyes, fucked-out expression and parted lips making you squeeze his pretty fingers, dragging another whine from him.

"You are fucking me so well" you said, speaking for the first time. You voice was strained, dry "Can't you feel how much I love it?"

You clenched around him on purpose, and the way his face twisted anyone might think he was severely hurt.

"Does it feel good?" he breathed "Do my fingers feel good? Tell me they feel good"

His desperation made you clench again "It feels so fucking good, can't you hear it?"

He could hear it, that filthy sound now exacerbated by his cum getting pushed in and out of your cunt. He was getting hard again, watching you hold onto his hand and thrust into it, using it to abuse your own pussy with such a pleased, eager expression.

"You are so pretty. You have such a pretty pussy" the words left his mouth like a lost thought. He wasn't really thinking anymore.

"I want you to fuck it"

"Shut up" he groaned.

Hongjoon leaned in and kissed you, the drool that had formed at the sight of you now falling down your chin in a clash of teeth and tongue. He pressed his tongue against yours, forcing it deep inside your mouth just as he buried his fingers deep, deep inside you. The moan that rose from your throat choked on his tongue. He pulled it out of your mouth it with a nasty sound, a thread of saliva connecting your lips. Just by the way he looked, you knew he was hard again.

"I'm going to fuck you so good. I promise you"

He pulled his fingers back again, and proceeded to finger you at a speed that made it clear he was trying to get you to cum before he did again, and he was close.

"You sound so fucking good"

He patted at his sweats with his free hands, hand looking for something like a desperate puppy. He finally found it: his phone. When you realized what he was doing, both embarrassment and heat spread through your lower belly, making you whine in a way that made Hongjoong's hand shake, but his pace never faltered. He had opened the recording app and placed it close to your pussy, making sure every filthy little sound was saved for later.

You came with a loud cry, and Hongjoong savored every small clench, every small wet sound that came from your orgasm as he moaned himself, painfully hard and wishing he could use you like a fleshlight. He rode out your orgasm by recording every sound, fingers going inside and out, stretching you out and dragging them across your cunt to record as much as possible. When he was done, he pulled them out, and sat with a deep sigh, placing his hard cock insde his sweats with a wince. He took a look at you, then leaned forward and kissed you softly on the lips. It was soft, careful, like the first one you had shared in that same car. You were both riding the high, and you felt blissful enough to do him the favour of cleaning his fingers by bringing them to your mouth, tongue dragging across them in small licks.

"You are awful" Hongjoong said, voice strained and eyes going dark again.

It made you chuckle, and baring your teeth you bit them playfully before placing a chaste kiss on them.

He pulled your top back up, and helped you sit comfortably after lying in such a straining position for so long. The truth was, if he let you stay in that position for longer, he might be tempted to bury his fingers deep inside you again. God, he already missed the feeling of your pussy around them. He looked around to make sure there was no one around.

"You good?" he asked, lips pressed against your cheek in a soft kiss.

You humed in response.

"I'm sorry about your car" you said, guiding Hongjoong eyes to the part of the back seat between you two that was covered in cum. Hongjoong's chest rose and fell with a deep sigh.

"It's my fault. I was too impatient"

"How are you going to survive a whole month?"

Something flashed in Hongjoong's eyes. Something soft and unguarded.

"I think I'll manage, if you help me out"

You bit your lip. It was obvious he was still incredibly horny. So were you.

"Do you think you'll last until we reach my apartment?" you didn't miss the way Hongjoong's eyebrows rose, eyes shining, then it disappeared after he took a quick glance at the time on his phone.

"I have to go back to the dorm..."

You playfully shrugged.

"You could be very quiet" you whispered into his lips before kissing them so softly it made his dick twitch.

"I can't be, you just saw" he retorted, but you could tell he only needed a little push.

"It's easy if your mouth is busy" you kissed his neck, tongue dragging swiftly through te spot "Buried under my pretty pussy"

It wasn’t just that he looked good—he always looked good. It was the fact that your body was currently operating on peak ovulation hormones. Every single evolutionary instinct in your DNA was screaming at you, flashing a giant neon sign that pointed directly at your vampire boyfriend. He smelled incredible. He looked incredible. The mere sight of his pale fingers adjusting his cuffs was making you dizzy. You didn’t want him to go to work. In fact, you were ready to fight the entire city of Seoul to keep him in this room.

A wave of heat bloomed beneath your collarbone, rushing upward until your cheeks were burning, thoroughly flushed. Beneath the thin fabric of your shirt, your nipples hardened into tight, sensitive peaks, chafing agonizingly against the cotton with every breath you took. A heavy ache settled deep in your lower stomach, radiating downward until your thighs tensed, unconsciously pressing together to try and soothe the sudden friction building between them.

“I should be back by dawn,” Yeosang said, his voice was smooth as he reached for his watch on the dresser. “The meeting shouldn’t run too late, but you know how the elders love to hear themselves speak.”

“Mmm,” you hummed, staring fixedly at the hollow of his throat. Take me instead, your brain unhelpfully suggested.

Yeosang paused, glancing at you through the mirror. A subtle, knowing smirk playing on his lips. As a vampire, he was acutely aware of the sudden, intense spike in your body chemistry over the last twenty-four hours. He could hear your heart hammering against your ribs, and the scent of a spike in estrogen was practically vibrating in the room. He found it endearing, if a bit distracting. “Are you alright?” he asked, turning around to face you fully. He leaned back against the dresser, crossing his arms. “You’re staring at me like you want to eat me alive. Which is technically my job.”

“You look nice,” you said, your voice a little tighter than usual.

“Thank you, my love.” He smiled, approaching the nightstand to grab his final, most crucial accessory. He swept his hand over the polished wood, searching for the familiar metal. Then, he paused. Yeosang looked down, moved a book, then lifted his charger.

Nothing.

“That’s strange,” his brow furrowed slightly. “Where did I put my daylight ring?” On the bed, you suddenly found the loose thread on your blanket deeply, intensely fascinating. You began to pick at it as Yeosang turned to you slowly, he took in your suddenly rigid posture and the guilty flush creeping up your neck. He let out a soft, amused sigh, walking over to the edge of the bed, stopping right in front of you, the expensive scent of his cologne enveloping your senses. “Darling,” he said softly, his tone gentle, but with a hint of accusation. “Where is my ring?”

“I don’t know,” you lied, looking up at him with the widest, most innocent eyes you could muster. “Did you lose it? Oh no. Guess you can’t go out in the sun. Guess you have to stay inside. In the dark. With me.”

Yeosang closed his eyes for a brief moment, letting out a breath that was half-laugh, half-groan. He knelt down, putting himself at eye level with you. Up close, his beauty was dizzying. “I have to attend the meeting,” he said gently, a playful glint in his eyes. “Considering the sun rose at six in the morning and I’d rather not combust on my way to the office... I’m going to need it back.” 

“No,” you blurted out, abandoning all pretense of innocence.

Yeosang blinked, genuinely surprised by your bluntness. “No?”

“No. If you leave, I’ll die,” you whined, leaning forward and burying your face into his neck, inhaling deeply. You wrapped your arms tightly around his waist, keeping him in the spot. “You smell too good. You look too good. You are a safety hazard to my sanity. Stay home.”

Yeosang’s hands, cool and soothing against your warm skin, came up to rest on your hips. He didn’t push you away; instead, he tilted his head to give you better access to his neck, his thumb caressing your hip bone through your shirt. “Is that what this is?” he murmured, his voice dropping an octave, becoming dangerously smooth. “A hostage situation driven by hormones?”

“Yes,” you mumbled against his skin, kissing the sweet spot right beneath his jaw. Yeosang let out a soft breath, his grip on your hips tightening just a fraction. For a second, his cool, composed exterior wavered. His fangs pricked the inside of his lip as your racing pulse beat frantically against his senses. It was incredibly tempting to just cave in, throw the silk shirt on the floor, and show you exactly what he could do. 

But, he took a slow breath, regaining his signature control. He leaned back just enough to look into your dazed eyes, a devastatingly handsome smirk on his face. “As much as I would love to spend the next several hours answering your... biological demands,” he purred, “I have a business to run. Now, where is the ring?”

You pouted, glaring at him. “I’m not telling.”

Yeosang raised a single eyebrow, his smirk widening. “Darling, if you don’t tell me, I’ll just have to use my compulsion on you. Or worse... I’ll use my supernatural agility to search the room and find it anyway.”

That was the final straw. The threat of him actually leaving—of that gorgeous, silk-clad body walking out the door and leaving you alone with a raging hormonal wildfire—shattered whatever microscopic shred of restraint you had left. With a loud, exasperated groan, you threw yourself back onto the mattress, crossing your arms tightly over your chest, shaking your head side to side into the pillow. “You are the worst,” you whined loudly, glaring daggers at the ceiling. “You’re doing this on purpose! You know exactly what time of the month it is, you know I’m burning up, and you’re just going to work!? In these pants?! It’s literal torture, Yeosang! I hate you! Just get over here and fix it, now!”

From the doorway, you didn’t even know when he get this far, a low, smooth sound cut through your dramatic display. Yeosang hadn’t left yet, he was leaning his tall, elegant frame against the doorframe, arms crossed, deeply amused smirk carved across his handsome face as he watched you writhe and kick around the bed. “Are you quite finished?” he asked, voice completely unbothered. He didn’t look angry; if anything, your little tantrum was only feeding his ego. He took a slow, deliberate step back into the room. “Because watching you throw a tantrum over my pants is easily the most entertaining thing I’ve seen all century.”

You huffed, turning your head away from his gaze and burying your face into a pillow. “I'm not throwing a tantrum,” you mumbled into the fabric.

Yeosang let out a chuckle that sent a shiver straight down your spine. The sound of his dress shoes pressing into the carpet told you he was getting closer, moving with that silent vampire grace. “Right. Of course you aren’t,” the mattress dipped significantly under his weight as he crawled up the bed, looming over your dramatic, face-down form. His cool hand wrapped firmly around your ankle, his thumb rubbing slow circles against your skin. “Now, are you going to keep kicking my sheets, or are you going to turn around and look at me properly?”

You huffed, keeping your face buried in the pillow, you couldn’t help but kick your free leg a little just to be petty. “I'm not looking at you, you’re mean. Go to your stupid board meeting.” With one effortless yank, he dragged you down the mattress until your hips bumped right against his shins. “Yeosang!” you shrieked, your dramatic scowl returning instantly as you scrambled to sit up, clutching a pillow to your chest like a shield.

He was kneeling over you now. “You’re pouting,” he observed flatly, the corner of his lips twitching upward as he reached out and casually plucked the pillow from your arms, tossing it over his shoulder onto the floor. “It’s a very undignified look for someone who was just trying to boss around a centuries-old vampire.”

“I was not bossing you—”

“You were,” he interrupted, his long fingers wrapping around both of your wrists. He didn’t squeeze, but the weight of his grip was an instant reminder of his power. He leaned down, his face stopping just inches from yours, his dark eyes sparkling with mischief. “And while I find your little temper tantrum incredibly endearing... my patience for your mouth just ran out, darling.” The playful, teasing warmth in his eyes vanished in a single blink, swallowed instantly by a sudden, pitch-black hunger that made your breath catch right in your throat. The atmosphere in the room shifted, temperature getting lower, so fast it felt like the air pressure dropped.

Your hands grabbed the lapels of his black shirt, your fingers digging into the expensive silk as you crashed into his chest. His arms instinctively wrapped around you as you tackled him down, the momentum forcing him flat onto his back. Now, you straddled his hips, pinning his thighs down with yours. The friction of your sensitive skin against his slacks sent a violent jolt of electricity straight to your core. You leaned down, your hands framing his face, your chest heaving against his as you looked down at him with desperation. “I swear to god, Kang Yeosang,” you breathed, “If you don’t put a baby inside me right now, I am the one who is going to combust. Forget the sun!”

Yeosang froze beneath you. For a second, his brain completely short-circuited. He looked up at your flushed cheeks, your parted lips, and the hunger in your eyes. A dangerous heat flared in his chest, instantly obliterating his “businessman” composure. The sharp tips of his fangs elongated, sliding down past his lip, glinting in the dim light of your bedroom. His hands, which had been resting gently on your waist, gripped your hips with bruising intensity, keeping you firmly against his lap—where you could feel the undeniable proof that his “vampiric self-control” had just completely left the building. “A baby? You’re lucky my dead body can’t actually make you pregnant, because with a mouth like that, I would have kept you locked in my bed and dripping with my mess months ago.”

“I don’t care about the logistics!” you shot back, your voice nothing but a desperate whine as you intentionally ground your hips down against his. The friction was dizzying, making your head spin and your cheeks burn hotter. “Work it out! Use your supernatural adaptation! Do something besides standing there looking like a sex god!”

Yeosang’s hips instinctively jerked up to meet yours before he caught himself. His knuckles turned white where they were gripping your waist, his fangs practically scraping his bottom lip. “I am not standing, I am currently pinned to a mattress by a human who weighs a fraction of what I do,” he gasped out, his usual elegant diction disappearing. He glared up at you, though his dark, dilated eyes betrayed how heavily he was affected. “And for the record, this silk shirt was imported from Milan. You are wrinkling it. Horribly.”

“Good! I hope it rips!” You reached down, deliberately tugging at his collar, popping a button that skittered across the hardwood floor. Your sensitive nipples brushed against his solid chest through your shirt, and you let out a frustrated whimpering sound. “Miss your meeting. Let the elders talk to an empty chair. Tell them you were detained by a biological emergency.”

“A biological emergency,” he repeated, a breathless, incredulous laugh escaping him. He tilted his head back against the mattress, looking at you through hooded eyelids. The coldness of his skin was mixed with the roaring heat of yours, creating a scent that was pure sin. “You are completely unhinged when you’re fertile, do you know that? It’s like your self-preservation instincts completely dissolve.”

“They didn’t dissolve, they just pivoted,” you panted, leaning down until your lips were a mere millimeter from his fangs. “My instincts want you. Now are you going to keep lecturing me on silk from Milan, or are you going to do your job?” Yeosang’s jaw clenched so hard a muscle ticked violently near his ear, but he still hesitated, his hands tightening on your hips as he fought the final embers of his restraint. Seeing his hesitation, you let out a sharp, mocking scoff right against his lips. “Unbelievable,” you snapped, your tone dripping with frustrated rudeness. “What’s the matter, Kang? Are you scared? Centuries of being a vampire and you’re getting cold feet because a human girl wants you? Wow. Some predator you are. All talk. Actually, don’t bother. Maybe I should just find a vampire who actually knows what to do with a willing human.”

Yeosang’s entire body went dead silent beneath you. Before you could even blink, the world blurred. Your hands were violently ripped from his collar as he gripped your wrists, his fingers like cuffs. In a single second, the positions reversed. The mattress dipped as he flipped you onto your back, pinning your hands flat against the sheets above your head. He came down over you, his large frame completely trapping your tensed, aching thighs beneath his. “What did you just say?” his voice dropped into a terrifyingly low, lethal register.

“You heard me,” you snapped, your attitude completely taking over. “Get off me. You’re boring. Go to your little business meeting and leave me alone since you clearly can’t handle—”

You didn’t even get to finish the insult. Yeosang’s grip on your wrists tightened so violently the bones in your hands practically creaked, cutting off your words as he slammed your arms even harder into the mattress.

That was it. The absolute limit.

“You think I’m boring?” he leaned down, his face stopping barely an inch from yours, cold breath fanning over your flushed skin. “You think you can just go out and find another vampire to shove his cock inside you? You think anyone else is allowed to touch this filthy, desperate little pussy of yours?”

“Yeo—”

“Enough.”

Yeosang hovered inches above you, his chest heavy with anger. His hair fell wildly around his face, and his eyes were entirely black, the irises swallowed by his pupils. The sharp points of his fangs were fully bared, pressing down over his bottom lip. There was no more elegance left in him; he looked terrifying, and deeply offended. “You’ve gotten incredibly bold. You think because I indulge your little human whims that I’ve forgotten what I am?” His grip on your wrists tightened just enough to remind you exactly who held the power in this room. “Let me show you exactly what I can do,” he hissed against your skin, his lips moving down to press hard, bruising kisses against the frantic pulse point of your neck. “By the time I’m done with you, you won’t even remember what day of the week it is, let alone your own name. You want a predator? You’ve got one.”

“Yeosang—” you choked out, the mockery instantly evaporating from your tongue.

“Don’t speak,” he commanded, the velvet edge of his voice clipping your words right out of the air. He didn’t just kiss your neck; he marked it. His lips were firm, dragging a trail of heavy kisses from the soft skin beneath your ear down to the sensitive dip of your collarbone. Every time his fangs lightly grazed you, a violent, desperate shiver racked your entire frame. Your nipples, already tight and aching against the cotton of your oversized shirt, practically throbbed with the friction. Your thighs, still trapped beneath the rigid weight of his slacks, tensed instinctively. You tried to arch up, tried to grind the heavy, empty ache in your lower stomach against his lap to find some semblance of relief, but Yeosang shifted his weight, completely shutting down your movement. “Hold still. You wanted the predator, remember? A predator dictates the pace. You don’t get to move until I tell you to.”

Your cheeks were burning as you swallowed hard, your tongue darting out to wet your dry lips. “You’re... you’re still wearing your shirt,” you pointed out trying to regain a microscopic shred of your previous bravado. “Hard to be a beast when you’re buttoned up.”

Yeosang slowly released one of your wrists, though the implicit warning in his gaze kept your hand frozen on the sheet. His fingers moved down to his own collar. With a single, sharp jerk, he didn’t just unbutton the shirt—he ripped it open. The remaining buttons tore from the black silk, scattering across the bed with a series of soft, chaotic thuds, exposing the flawless, pale skin of his hard chest. “Is that better, darling?” he leaned back down, grabbed your free hand, and guided it up until your fingers touched his hard muscles. “Now, tell me exactly where you hid my ring, or I’m going to make you beg for it.” 

You stared up at him, your vision completely hazy as the cool expanse of his bare chest pressed flat against your burning skin. The contrast was too good. With your hand resting against his abdominal muscles, you didn’t want to play games anymore. The hidden daylight ring felt like a stupid, distant memory compared to the reality of him pinned over you with his shirt torn open. “It’s under the mattress,” you gasped out, completely abandoning the secret. “On your side. Under the corner. Just take it.”

A triumphant, devastating smirk cut across Yeosang’s sharp face. “Good girl.” He didn’t move to get it. He didn’t care about the ring anymore, and you both knew it. Instead, his hand slid down from your wrist, his veins-prominent fingers tangling firmly into the hem of your oversized t-shirt. With one tug, he bunched the fabric up, dragging it over your ribs and tossing it blindly off the bed. A second later, Yeosang came back down over you. Your thighs tensed, instantly flaring wide to welcome his weight as he slid perfectly between your knees. “You’re shaking,” Yeosang murmured against your lips. His fingers moved to your jaw, his grip firm, forcing you to look directly into his pitch-black eyes. “Still thinking you want someone else?”  

“Shut up,” you breathed, your fingers digging into the hard muscles of his shoulders, your hips instinctively arching up to grind against him. “Please, Yeosang, just shut up and—”

“And what?” he interrupted, his thumb pressing firmly against your bottom lip, dragging it down to expose your teeth. “You’re incredibly lucky I’m in a hurry. If I didn’t have the high-ups waiting on me, I would spend the entire day teaching you how to speak to me properly.”

You let out a frustrated, needy whine, your hips jerking up against his again. “Then stop talking and do it.”

“Oh, I am,” he purred, “but since we’re on a schedule, I’ll just have to make this efficient. And incredibly loud.” He leaned down, his lips crushing against yours in a kiss that was pure dominance. It wasn’t the gentle, romantic kissing you were used to; this was deep, and possessive. His tongue swept into your mouth, tasting the frantic heat of your breath, while his large hands slid down to grip your hips, lifting you slightly off the mattress, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your panties. Yeosang didn’t bother sliding them down. With a single, effortless twitch of his wrist, the supernatural strength of his grip flexed, and the delicate fabric tore down the seams. Before the shredded scraps of lace could even drift to the floor, Yeosang’s hand cupped your inner thigh, fingers digging in just enough to force your legs wider. He didn’t touch your wetness yet, intentionally leaving you empty, hovering right on the edge. “Look at you,” he murmured, his dark eyes staring down at where your thighs were trembling violently against his slacks. “So loud and mouthy a second ago, and now your cunt is wet, begging for me. Where did all that attitude go, darling? Did it rip along with your underwear?”

“Yeosang, please,” you whined, your previous cockiness completely evaporating as you clawed at the hard muscles of his shoulders, your hips instinctively arching up, trying to force yourself against his hand.

“Uh-uh. No moving,” he commanded, using his weight to press your hips flat into the mattress, completely immobilizing you. “You wanted to act like a brat and insult me, so now you get to lay there and wait. Every time you buck your hips without my permission, I’m adding five minutes to how long I make you wait.”

You bit your lip, a frustrated, tearful sob catching in your throat. Your core was slick, aching, and completely empty, throbbing so much that it felt like actual torture. “You said you were in a hurry,” you choked out, trying to use his own words against him.

Yeosang leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of your burning ear. “I am in a hurry,” he whispered maliciously, fingers slowly tracing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, too close to your heat yet never touching it. “But I will gladly be late to the most important meeting of the year if it means teaching you some manners. Now... are you going to behave, or do I need to keep your hands pinned above your head the entire time?”

You bit your bottom lip so hard you could taste the faint, metallic tang of your own blood. Being so close to him, so utterly exposed and yet completely denied, was driving you absolutely insane. Your inner thighs tensed, trembling under his fingers. “I’ll behave,” you choked out, the words a total surrender. “I’ll behave, just... please.”

Yeosang’s eyes tracked the frantic rise and fall of your chest. The flush on your cheeks was beautiful crimson, and the scent of your arousal was filling the room, entirely overpowering the expensive cologne on his skin. “Good girl,” the praise was dripping with authority that offered no real gentleness. He slowly released his iron grip on your wrists, but you didn’t dare move them from above your head. You knew better. His fingers slid up the inside of your thigh, finally—finally—brushing against your slick, burning folds. A high moan escaped your throat as his fingers slid through your wetness. The sudden friction was intense, making your lower stomach cramp with pleasure. You instinctively tried to lift your hips into his hand, but Yeosang immediately growled, pressing his palm hard against your lower belly to lock you flat against the sheets. “What did I say about moving?” he hissed against your lips, his fangs grazing your skin just enough to send a thrilling spike through your veins. “Do you want me to tie your hands to the headboard?”

“No,” you whimpered, your fingers blindly clutching at the silk sheets above your head, your toes curling as he began a slow, deep rhythm with two of his fingers. He was soaking himself in you, coating his pale fingers in your heat.

“Look at how wet you are for me,” Yeosang’s voice dropped into that deep, ruined register that made you feel dizzy. “Completely ruined before I’ve even touched you. You’re lucky you smell so sweet, or I’d leave you like this all day.” He pulled his fingers out with a wet, squelching sound that made your face burn a furious red. Before you could even register the loss, Yeosang shifted his weight. His hands flew to the zipper of his slacks, freeing his heavy length. He came down over you fully, and positioned his blunt tip right at your entrance, pressing against your slick folds, threatening to tear right through whatever sanity you had left.  “Open your eyes,” he commanded, his hand gripping your jaw firmly, tilting your face up. “Watch a boring vampire take you.”

You swallowed hard, your eyes completely unfocused as his tip pressed right against your entrance. You could feel him twitching against your slick skin, and the desperate, empty ache between your thighs was screaming for him to just drive himself inside. But the barrier of his clothes was driving you insane. You hated it. You hated that he was still half-dressed, that there was expensive silk of his shirt and wool of his slacks keeping you from touching him properly while you were completely exposed and melting beneath him. Your hands flew to his shoulders, fingers frantically clawing at the sleeves of his black shirt, trying to rip the fabric away from his skin. “Clothes,” you gasped out, your voice breaking as your other hand blindly scrambled downward, clawing at the waistband of his slacks, trying to shove the heavy material down his hips. “Clothes off, Sangie... please. Let me touch you... I want to see you.”

Yeosang let out a low, mocking chuckle, he didn’t help you. Instead, he grabbed both of your wrists in one hand, easily pinning them back down to the mattress above your head, completely rendering your desperate hands useless. “Oh, absolutely not,” a devastating, cruel little smirk curved around his fangs. His dark eyes hooded as he looked down at your flushed, helpless face. “You don’t get to see me, darling. You don’t get the privilege of having me completely bare for you.”

“Why?” you whimpered, a tear of pure, frustrated desperation leaking from the corner of your eye as your hips instinctively twitched against his heavy tip.

“Because you were a rude little whore,” he whispered maliciously, leaning down until his lips were brushing against your ear, making your sensitive skin break out in goosebumps. “So this is your punishment. You get stripped bare, completely exposed, while I stay perfectly put-together. You don’t get to touch me where you want. And you definitely don’t get to call me ‘Sangie’ until you learn some manners.” To prove his point, he shifted his weight, his grip on your jaw tightening just a fraction to keep your eyes locked onto his pitch-black stare. “Now stop crying and open your legs wider for me.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, please let me touch you—”

“Too late for an apology, darling.” He didn’t give you another second. With a single, brutal tilt of his hips, Yeosang drove himself straight inside, burying his thick length into you all the way to the hilt. The ruthless entry stretched your slick walls so wide and so suddenly that a scream was ripped right out of your throat. Your back arched off the mattress, your toes curling as pleasure completely took over your body. You were entirely filled, your internal muscles desperately convulsing and clamping around his cock, squeezing his length tightly. But if you thought he was going to hold still and let you adjust, you were completely wrong. Yeosang didn’t pause for a single fraction of a second. The moment he hit your depth, he let out a dark, ragged growl against your mouth and immediately pulled back, only to slam right back into you with punishing force.

“Yeosang—wait—!” you sobbed, your head thrashing against the pillow as the overwhelming friction of his pace began to tear through your sanity.

“I told you, I’m in a hurry,” he growled, the veins along his chest and neck bulged violently. “Fuck, you’re so tight,” he leaned down, chest crushing your sensitive breasts, lips pressing a hard, possessive kiss right against your trembling jaw. “Look at how perfectly you take me. You were made for this.” His thrusts were heavy, deep, and punishingly fast, his slacks-clad thighs slapping bruisingly against your bare, trembling legs with every drive. Your head thrashed against the pillow, your vision dissolving into a blur of tears and heat as he drove you closer and closer to the edge. Your fingers clawed blindly at the sheets trapped beneath the weight of his hand, every single move of his hips was driving deeply into your core. The contrast of his cool, bare torso grinding against your flushed, burning skin was a sensory overload, melting whatever microscopic shred of coherent thought you had left into a puddle of pure desperation.

Yeosang looked down at you through a curtain of blonde hair, the corners of his lips were pulled back, bared fangs gleaming with venom as he watched your lips part in a string of breathless, incoherent whimpers. “Look at me.” He didn’t wait for you to comply. He released his grip on your wrists, only to slide his hand down to grab your jaw, his fingers digging into your skin to force your head back against the pillow. His other hand flew to your knee, hooking behind it and shoving your leg up, pinning it high against his ribcage to angle your pelvis perfectly for his next, devastatingly deep thrust.

“Y-Yeosang—I can’t—” you cried out, a loud, wet sob escaping your throat as he hammered into you, hitting a sensitive nerve, sending a violent, electric shockwave straight to your lower stomach.

“You can,” he hissed, his thumb pressing into your cheek, tilting your face up to meet his dark gaze. “You’re going to take every single inch of me. This is exactly what you begged for. Tell me how it feels to be handled by a vampire who doesn’t know what to do with a willing human.” The mocking, arrogant edge in his tone was the ultimate blow. You let out a broken, high-pitched moan as a sudden, intense wave of heat bloomed at the base of your spine, pressure building too fast, the friction of his pace driving you straight toward a violent climax that you couldn’t control. “Fuck—I’m going to—” you gasped, your eyes rolling back as your thighs began to shake uncontrollably against his sides.

“Not yet,” his grip on your jaw tightened just enough to pull you back from the edge. He intentionally altered his rhythm, pulling almost entirely out of your slick, swollen cunt before driving back in with a grinding slow-motion depth. “You don’t get to come until I tell you to. Hold it in.” The cruelty of the denial made tears pour freely down your flushed cheeks. He could hear the frantic, erratic stutter of your heart beating, and the power of having you completely at his mercy, totally undone by his touch, made his cock twitch. He leaned down, lips slamming back over yours in a kiss that was punishing, and utterly possessive. His tongue sweeping into your mouth to claim your desperate cries while his hips resumed that frantic, brutal pace. The slacks covering his legs chafed against your bare, sensitive inner thighs with every thrust, reminding you of what you couldn’t see, or touch. You were drowning in him, totally consumed by the strength of a vampire who had abandoned his restraint just to break your attitude. The bedroom was filled with the wet sound of his thrusts, that echoed in your ears as he relentlessly drove you closer to the peak. You were entirely at his mercy, trapped beneath his marble-cool skin, as he ruthlessly claimed every single inch of your slick, swollen heat.

Yeosang’s fangs were grazing the skin of your neck with a menacing pressure that made you whimper. He could feel the tight, erratic fluttering of your internal muscles, the desperate way your walls were spasming around him, begging for the release he was so cruelly withholding. “You’re right on the edge, aren’t you?” He suddenly slowed his pace, barely shifting inside you, keeping his thick length buried deep but entirely denying you the friction you were dying for. “So desperate,” he whispered maliciously, his pitch-black eyes drinking in your tears. “Did you learn your lesson? Tell me you’re sorry for being such a rude whore earlier.”

You sobbed, your hands blindly reaching up to grip his bicep through the fabric of the shirt, your hips instinctively twitching in a useless, frantic attempt to force him to move. “I’m sorry... I’m sorry, Sangie. Please.”

He liked the apology, but he wasn’t done playing with your obedience just yet. He reached down between your bodies, his hand sliding over your stomach to rub your swollen clit in a tight circle while his hips remained completely still inside you. The sudden friction was so intense it felt like an electric shock. He didn’t even need to thrust anymore; the rhythm of his thumb against your slick skin was a total overload to your nervous system. “Wet, desperate, and completely open for me. Is this what you want? Do you want me to put a baby in you?” 

“Yes—yes!” you sobbed out, your hips trying to buck against his stillness. “Knock me up, Yeosang... please. Put it inside me. Please, just fill me up!”

Hearing you beg for something his dead body couldn’t technically give you—yet wanting it so desperately anyway—completely shattered his remaining control. “Let it go,” Yeosang commanded, his dark eyes boring into yours, watching the exact moment your sanity shattered. “Come for me, darling.” That was the final straw. You let out a broken, wet sob as your orgasm ripped through your entire body. Your internal muscles locked down around his buried length in a grip that went on and on, shaking with the force of your own release.

The intense squeezing of your climax was the final straw for Yeosang. Moving his hand from your heat to grip your hip, he slammed into you with a frantic, punishing speed, pushing himself as deeply inside you as possible. “F-fuck... breeding you... right to the hilt...” At the exact same microsecond, the blinding rush of his orgasm sent his instincts into a total frenzy. He lunged downward, his mouth slamming against the side of your neck.

Crack.

A sharp spike of pain flashed through you as his fangs pierced clean through the soft skin of your pulse point, immediately followed by a wave of euphoria as his venom flooded your veins. You let out a loud, strangled shriek against his shoulder, your fingers clawing uselessly into the fabric of his shirt as his throat began to work. He was drinking you down, a greedy gulping sound right against your ear, pulling your hot blood into his body. Inside you, the burning volume of his release was filling you to the absolute hilt. Yeosang was completely emptying himself into you, his hips twitching while his mouth ruthlessly drained you. “Good girl... squeeze me like that... take every fucking drop...” Yeosang growled against your bloody skin, the words ruined as he muddled his release with his feeding. 

The combination of the blood loss and the intense heat filling your core was too much for your human body to process. Your vision dissolved into a beautiful, hazy blur of stars. You were completely at his mercy—being filled at one end while being drained at the other, completely claimed by him. He took three more heavy gulps of your blood before his fangs slowly slid out of your flesh. Yeosang collapsed fully against you, his heavy frame completely pinning you into the mattress. He stayed buried deep inside you, keeping you completely filled, his blonde hair damp and tangled against your neck.

────˚‧୨ᰔ୧‧˚────

Your arms wrap tighter around yourself as another heavy gust of wind breezes by. Effortlessly, it sweeps a discarded plastic fast food wrapper further down the street, away from where you’re standing. Your fingers brush against the numberless goosebumps blossoming on your bare arms. The ends of your hair tickle your skin as it moves with the invisible force, grazing your shoulders and back. 

  Your chin trembles. Though not as vigorously as before, as now it’s only because of the chilled air and not anymore from your tears. Tears that dried with the wind on your cheeks, leaving behind messy streaks of mixed makeup that you spent over an hour perfecting. You can’t wait to wash your face clean.

Numerous cars speed past, music blaring through the open windows, their horns beeping. Across the street, a group of intoxicated girls around your age surrounds a stray cat, cooing and giggling as they snap countless photos, stumbling over themselves but never falling. Nearby on a short brick wall, a couple sits cuddled together, enjoying each other’s company over a shared ice cream cone. The street is littered with people all around, yet you don’t hear anything, just static filling your ears 

The restless thoughts crowding your mind drown out the sounds of the bustling street around you. 

How could such a perfect night have gone so terribly wrong?

How could he do this to you? 

How dare he do this to you, again?

Before your mind could spiral any further into a pit of distress, your thoughts are interrupted by the sound of an approaching car. The hum of the tires sounded so close you couldn't ignore it. When you lift your head to see, the relief of familiarity washes over you. 

An all-black BMW, your best friend’s car, luxurious and sleek, parks in front of you, the passenger-side door only an arm's length away. You sniffle as you release yourself to readjust the strap of your bag over your shoulder. The moment the car is in park, Jimin jumps out, leaving the door open behind him and you exhale a breath you hadn’t even realized you’d been holding in. 

You don’t know what you were so worried about, maybe because it was well into the late hours of the night and so abrupt. But Jimin always came when you called. He was always there when you needed him, no matter what.

Jimin’s eyebrows were pinched in concern, a frown present on his puffy lips. His strides were swift as he paced over to you, dense blonde hair bouncing in the wind.

 You hated seeing him so upset. More than that, you hated being the cause, which you seemed to have been a lot lately. He didn’t say anything as he approached. Instead, he grabbed the black leather jacket draped over his arm to wrap around your bare shoulders. His scent engulfed you, warm vanilla with a hint of bourbon; it settled your restless nerves. You welcomed the warmth, clutching the shoulders to secure its place over you.

With a gentle guiding hand on your lower back, he leads you over to his car, opening the passenger door for you. Still with no words exchanged between you two, you slide onto the plush, leather seat. The swift movement makes your dress ride up, and you miss the way Jimin’s eyes lock in on the exposed skin of your thighs. As quickly as it comes, he erases the thoughts with a slight shake of his head. 

 As he reaches over you to fasten your seatbelt, you toe off your high heels, strappy black stilettos, pushing them aside to make space on the floor for your aching feet. When the seatbelt clicks, signaling that you’re safely secured, you thank him barely above a whisper, him giving you a closed-lip smile in return. Once Jimin was settled in the driver’s seat, seatbelt buckled, and hands positioned at nine and three o’clock, he turns to you. 

“My place?” He asks, though he already knows the answer. You nod your agreement. 

Typically on nights like these, your best friend coming to your rescue; the car ride to his house was anything but serene. There was so much to say—too much to say. Jimin wanted to know everything, firing off questions so quick your mind could hardly formulate proper answers. And you were just as eager to spill, sparing him no specifics as you filled him in on all the infidelity details your sorry boyfriend never failed to supply. 

Not this time, though. 

The silence in the car was deafening, thick and heavy. Jimin apparently has nothing to say, and well after the night you just had, neither did you. The only noise in the car was the quiet hum of the vents, steadily blowing warm air. Shortly into the drive, you took the liberty to turn the heat on. 

 None of that bothers you, though. What bothers you is that your best friend seems…mildly irritated. He didn’t even need to say anything for you to figure it out; it was practically oozing from him.

His eyes are narrowed, zeroed in on the road, not in a focused way, more like in an "I can’t even look at you right now” way. His posture is stiff, too perfect, as his back presses firmly against his seat. His lips are pressed into a firm line, neither a frown nor a smile.

You can’t understand it. What’s there for him to be irritated about? You were the one who just caught your boyfriend cheating again. Was he upset that you called him to come pick you up? If that’s the case, he should’ve left you right there. You are more than capable of getting yourself a ride. You’re well versed in getting Ubers, and you’ve ridden the bus from time to time. Enough to know how to get home.

Fed up with the seeming silent treatment, you finally speak. “You’re not going to ask me what happened?” 

Did you mean for it to come out as bitter as it did? Maybe, maybe not. But you’re already on edge, and his lack of interest was getting on your last nerve.

There was a pregnant pause as Jimin came to a stoplight, fist tightening on the steering wheel. With a clenched jaw, his tongue pokes the inside of his cheek. A telltale sign that something was bothering him. You’re almost unsure if it’s the traffic light that tints his face red or his sheer frustration.

“Do I really need to?” The bite in his words matches yours. He turns to face you full on, the most attention he’s given you the entire ride. With his tone firm and low, he snaps, “How is this time any different from the last? Or even the one before that?”

 Rather than giving him an answer, you swallow the lump in your throat, turning your body away from him to gaze out of the window. The last thing you need is to be reprimanded by your best friend. Especially considering it’s nothing you have not heard before. He should be comforting you, threatening to drive over to Theo’s right now and kick his sorry ass. Of course you would never allow that to happen. You would never want anything bad to happen to your best friend or your shitty boyfriend, but still the sentiment was nice.

You hear Jimin sigh, but he doesn’t say anything else, instead continuing the drive when the light turns green. 

Before long, you make it to Jimin’s neighborhood. With practiced ease, he navigates the familiar streets. Right at the first turn at the stop sign and continuing straight until he reaches the second-to-last house on the left.

Jimin pulls into his driveway, putting his car in park before shutting it off. For a moment neither of you says anything. Jimin exhales and lets his head fall onto the headrest. You can feel his eyes burning a hole in the side of your face, but you don’t dare to give him the eye contact he’s seeking. Your petty mind determines that he needs to feel how upset you are with him. 

When he calls your name, you roll your eyes, folding your arms over your chest. 

“I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings earl—"

“You didn’t hurt my feelings,” you lie right through your teeth, barely able to keep the tears collecting on your waterline at bay. Internally you thank the heavens above your voice didn’t tremble, a dead giveaway to your emotional despair.

For a moment your best friend does nothing. Then with not a word more to say, he pulls the key from the ignition and opens his car door. 

Shielded away from his eyes, you quickly wipe away the tears sliding down the corners of yours. Feeling pulled together enough, you take a moment to gather your purse and heels from the floor. Though, you don't bother to put your shoes back on. The distance from Jimin’s driveway to his front door is short anyway. 

Naturally, Jimin comes to open the car door for you. You shiver, greeted again by the cold air. As you exit the vehicle, you make no effort to thank him, swinging the strap of your purse back over your shoulder. From behind, you hear a sassy grumble of "You're welcome," that you choose to ignore. 

The walk from Jimin’s car to his front door feels like an eternity. From the wind blowing your hair into a tangled mess, the pebbles and rough gravel digging into the soles of your feet to the suffocating tension between you and your best friend, which you still couldn’t really understand. All you wanted to do was take a hot shower and turn your brain off for the rest of the night under a massive pile of blankets.

Jimin pulls out his key to unlock the door, and now it’s your turn to ignore the way his sharp jaw ticks. When the front door opens, the heat from inside surrounds you,  comforting you like a warm hug. You learned early on that your best friend loved to be just as toasty as you, always keeping a spare jacket or blanket around if or whenever it got too chilly. Another reason you’ve been friends for so long. You make a mental note to thank him later for turning the heat on when you're not as irritated with him. 

Your heels drop to the hardwood with a dull smack, joining a few pairs of Jimin’s piled on the floor. Your purse follows behind, on the ottoman next to the door, covered with other jackets, scarves, and things alike. Your best friend comes up beside you, discarding his own jacket and shoes.

You take notice of the comfy scene in front of you. On the couch, Jimin’s favorite blanket lies in a messy heap, like someone tossed it away in a hurry. Before the couch, a half-eaten bowl of popcorn sits in the middle of the glass coffee table, an opened can of soda beside it. In the background, the murmured chaos of an abandoned action movie, gunshots, explosions, some screaming, and then more gunshots emits from the television speakers.

The guilt that washes over you overtakes any of the irritation you felt earlier with Jimin. Once again, your tumultuous relationship has not only caused problems for you but also for the people around you.

 Of course he was upset. He had a right to be. If the roles were reversed, you’d probably be a little upset too. Lord knows how much you valued your couch potato time.

“I’m going to go wash up,” you mutter, your tone not nearly as snappy as it was before, and you don’t wait for his response as you make your way down the hall towards his bedroom. 

You close the door behind you with a heavy sigh, twisting the lever on the knob into its locked position. Guarded away from the outside, you take a moment to finally breath. Since all this shit’s transpired, you feel like you’ve been fighting for breath.

You squeeze your eyes shut and lean back. Your head thuds when it makes contact with the door behind you. In through your nose and out through your mouth. You repeat the mantra in your brain over and over. When you feel like you’ve finally caught your breath, your brain switches to autopilot. You’ve performed this exact routine far too many times. 

You reach behind yourself to tug down the zipper of your attire, a black mini dress you bought at a cute little boutique for this very date night. The piece drops, pooling at your feet. Usually you’d ask Jimin to help with the zipper, but you’re not quite ready to face him yet, and you’re sure he does not want to talk to you. Next to go are your bra and panties. The matching lace set joins your dress in the laundry hamper, which Jimin will wash for you after you’ve fallen asleep for the night like he always does.

Inside the closet in his bathroom, you grab a spare towel and washcloth stacked neatly on a shelf. You set it aside on the sink to turn on the shower, twisting the temperature dial to the hottest setting. You love showering at Jimin's; the water at home was never scalding enough for you, and the water pressure was never enough to soothe your aching muscles. Plus, his bathroom was stacked to the brim with the best of the best skincare products. You wouldn’t dare catch sight of the cheap drugstore stuff you tend to reach for in here.

As the water warms up, the bathroom fills with misty steam. From the cabinet drawer, you grab a packet of nearly empty makeup remover wipes. You don’t need to look in the mirror to know that you look a mess. Although you couldn’t even if you wanted to, the glass is all fogged up. 

Gently, you drag the wipe all over your face, making sure to reach every nook and cranny until your skin feels, for the most part, clean. You toss the wipe, soiled with pinks, brown, black, and a bit of shimmer, into the wastebin underneath the sink.

Now you’re ready to shower.

You eagerly welcome the hot water as it cascades over you, soaking every inch of your tired body. You take a moment to enjoy the feel of the water droplets raining over your skin. However, before long the steam from the shower begins to feel suffocating, and before you know it, your eyes are brimming with tears. 

With every water droplet that pelts your skin, the weight of tonight feels heavier and heavier until—

It finally breaks you.

You curl into yourself as your body is wracked by uncontrollable sobs. Instinctively, your hands come up to cover your face, slapping over your mouth, even though you’re alone in the bathroom. It feels like you’re choking on your own breath. Throat and chest burning with how hard you try to keep your sobs in.

 You need to get out of this bathroom quick.

Vision blurred from tears, you reach for your washcloth and then Jimin's body wash. You then drench the square cloth with a generous amount of soap, the scent of lavender filling the small space. You’re practically panting now. Every gasping breath triggers a new wave of tears. You press your lips together firmly until it hurts. You're known to be a loud crier, and you don’t want to alarm Jimin. 

Through it all, you scrub yourself clean, rinse, and do it again. But the icky feeling never goes away. In fact, it settles deep in the pit of your stomach and makes its home there. Weightless, you drop to the tile floor below, one hand clutching your stomach and the other over your chest right where your heart is, and you let yourself cry.

You cry until your throat is sore and until your eyes are bloodshot red. Until your wails have subsided into pathetic shuddering breaths that make your chest jerk. You cry until you can’t physically cry anymore. Until all that’s left is a soggy, heartbroken human on the wet shower floor.

────˚‧୨ᰔ୧‧˚────

Like a zombie, you emerge from Jimin’s bedroom slowly and in desperate need of some fuel. The living room is quiet and dark when you step in. Your best friend sits with his back pressed against the couch’s arm, scrolling aimlessly on his phone. Awaiting on the television screen is the play menu for Shark Tale, your comfort movie. Two mugs of warm tea replace the popcorn and soda on the coffee table. Instantly you recognize the one on the right as yours. Jimin found it at a thrift shop years ago early into your friendship. He bought it because he said the bunny on the front reminded him of you. Eyes twinkling and cheeks round, as it sat in a patch of unruly wildflowers. You rolled your eyes playfully when he showed it to you, insisting that he keep it at his house, since you were there more than you were home anyway. 

The dragging of your footsteps alerts your best friend. He looks up from his phone, gaze sleepy as his eyes settle on you. You did your best to hide the evidence of your breakdown with what limited supplies you had. Though there was nothing you could do for your bloodshot eyes and splotchy skin. If Jimin notices your disheveled appearance, he doesn’t say anything.

Jimin sets his phone on the coffee table, patting the open spot on the couch next to him with a small smile. You join him without a second thought.

The sofa moans with your movement as you settle onto the plush cushion, grabbing the throw blanket to cover your chilly legs. Jimin’s basketball shorts didn’t offer you much coverage. You would think that after spending so many nights here, there would be something of yours to sleep in. 

Nonetheless, all you were privy to were a pair of too-short gym shorts and a shabby university t-shirt. You did find, however, in Jimin’s underwear drawer, a pair of your panties neatly folded and tucked in a corner. You were thankful for that. 

When you seem comfortable enough, Jimin uses the remote to press play. The small living room area was then filled with the sound of Shark Tale’s opening scene.

The two of you watch the movie as it plays, sipping your respective mugs of tea. It’s not nearly as tense as it was earlier, but it was still a little awkward. 

The warm beverage alleviates some of the soreness in your throat. When you're sated and cozy enough, you set the cup back in its previous place. Beside you, Jimin clears his throat. From the corner of your eye, you can see him glance at you, the TV screen, and then back at you again. You pretend to not notice him, trying your hardest to focus on the scene of Oscar being manhandled by the twin jellyfish brothers, Ernie and Bernie. 

 Another minute passes before Jimin finally decides to break the silence. His voice is steady and cautious when he turns to you and asks, “So… what did happen tonight? With Theo?”

Eyes still trained on the screen, you fiddle with the seam of the t-shirt you’re wearing, Jimin’s t-shirt. You pinch the thin fabric, flicking it back and forth between your fingers. Soon Jimin is going to have to throw this old thing out. Not only was it sporting several sizable holes, but there were loose threads everywhere.

You shrug when you say, “I thought you didn’t want to know.” 

Jimin’s exhale is loud, but his tone is still calm. “That’s not what I said, and you know it. I asked what made this time different. I feel like that’s a fair question.” You’ll give it to him; your best friend is and always has been blunt. 

With no rebuttal, you grab your mug from the table, yet you don’t take another sip from it. Instead, you rotate the ceramic in your hands, watching the liquid slosh all around. 

“He cheated on me again.” The way you say it so plainly is almost startling. 

Sadly, Jimin’s demeanor doesn’t change. That part he’s used to. He leans forward, as if to ask for further details without actually uttering a single word.

“He didn't confess it to me this time; I found out.” 

Theo was nothing if not an excellent victim player. Since the beginning of your relationship, he could never keep any of his rendezvous to himself. Before you could even begin to suspect anything, he’d be spilling his guts to you, sparing the explicit details. He’d cry like a baby, falling to his knees begging for your forgiveness, and by the end of it all, somehow you were the one with the heavy heart, apologizing for your shortcomings. 

Eyes downcast, you swallow down the lump forming in your throat. If you weren’t so focused on the dark-colored liquid in your mug, you would see the way Jimin freezes, his face morphing into pure disgust. 

“Well,” you correct yourself, your voice going a little shaky, “I snatched his phone before he could delete anything. But yeah, I found the messages. All of them.” 

Against you will, your mind travels back to earlier in the night. 

Your boyfriend had invited you out to dinner, a way to make it up to you for standing you up a few nights ago. There was this new restaurant in town that you’d been begging him to go to. But each time you’d ask, he would always decline, claiming that it was too expensive even though you were usually the one who paid for your meals. That’s why when he told you your dinner would be at this restaurant, you were overjoyed. 

In the beginning, the dinner went wonderfully. The ambiance was romantic, live music playing in the background and a lit candle separating you two on the table. You hadn’t argued at all leading up to the dinner. Not when you took a little longer to get ready, not when you put the restaurant’s address into the GPS wrong (507, not 501), and not even when you couldn’t decide what you wanted to eat. 

Everything was perfect, until it wasn’t. 

You see, your boyfriend was not the sharpest tool in the shed. Like an idiot, he left his phone faced down on the table, and throughout the night it rang and rang with incoming calls, messages, and you’re pretty sure emails. This wasn’t uncommon. Your boyfriend works a taxing job. His phone was always going off as he needed to be available whenever. In fact, you wouldn’t have suspected a thing if it weren’t for the guilty looks he’d send your way every time the device sounded with a new message. 

You grew fed up with his suspicious actions and snatched the phone from the table. He tries to reach for it but backs off when he gathers the attention of a couple of onlookers. 

The contact name on the phone screen is visible, Jerry’s Pizza, but the message was hidden behind a passcode. 

You tongue the inside of your bottom lip, fury clouding your mind. “Why the fuck is Jerry’s Pizza texting you at,” you look towards the clock at the top of the screen. “Nine p.m.?”

He huffs like he has the nerve to be upset. “It's probably just some promo stuff.” 

This man must think you’re stupid. “What’s the passcode, Theo?”

Your boyfriend drops his fork, and the metal utensil clashes onto the porcelain. He leans back in his chair with a smug look on his face. “Are we seriously doing this right?” 

You swallow, teeth clenched when you hiss, “Unlock it.”

“God _____, seriously. We’re having a good night; don’t let your insecurities ruin it.”

“Unlock the fucking phone now, or we’re done!”

When he finally does give you the passcode, you’re disappointed but not surprised. You scuff and shake your head as you read the many messages from one of the many girls he’s been hooking up with. "Unfuckingbelievable."

Fresh tears sting your eyes. “God, Jimin. They were so fucking filthy. I…I didn’t even know," you stop yourself, shaking your head. “I’ve never heard him say things like that before.”

The look on Jimin’s face portrays exactly what he feels for you. He scoots closer to grab the mug from your shaky hands, setting it on the coffee table. Hands now free, he interlocks his fingers with yours as you continue.

That familiar wave of emotion bubbles up inside, just as furious as before. You can barely speak now, choking on your own words when you say, “Th-they were t-talking about me in them—" you end in a hitched breath. 

Jimin pulls you into him as you succumb again to your tears. He engulfs you with his embrace, shushing your cries and petting your hair. “Shh, shh. It’s okay, it’s okay. You don’t have to say anymore.” Your best friend rocks you both back and forth, calming you with words of comfort.

He holds you as you cry, soaking the front of his shirt with your pain. He doesn’t say anything, letting you release it all. You calm down after a while and separate from him. 

Jimin leans towards you and cups your cheeks in his hands, wiping away your tears with his thumbs. In turn, you grab his wrists, seeking his comfort and closeness. “God _____," he shakes his head, face full of nothing but sorrow. “Honey, I’m so sorry.” 

It’s your turn to shake your head now. “Not, not your fault,” you hiccup as you try to catch your breath. 

Jimin calls your name once, and then again. When you finally open your eyes, his are pleading with yours. Briefly, your heart stutters. 

His palms cup your cheeks. “Listen to me. Theo is a fucking idiot. He does not deserve you. He never did.” When new tears fall, he wipes those away too. 

Jimin releases a devastating sigh, shaking his head. “I hate that this happened to you.” He swallows thick, and there’s a hopeful gleam in his eyes. “I’m just relieved you’re finally leaving him.”

His words knock you back into reality. You blink, eyes flickering away from his to stare down at the couch instead. Instinctively, your bottom lip makes its home between your teeth. 

Jimin frowns, immediately taking note of the hesitation swimming in your features.

 “_____?” he calls, in the exact tone your mother uses when she suspects you’re hiding something from her (she’s usually right). He leans forward, attempting to regain your eye contact, and you dodge his brown orbs. “You are leaving him after this, right?” 

You don't say anything. You don’t have the courage to lie right to his face, or even tell him the truth, for that matter. 

Jimin’s exhale is long and tired. He then closes his eyes and slowly nods twice. Bitter understanding. 

The light-haired man leans away from you, removing his hands from your face. Instinctively, you reach out for him, hands hovering in midair, but he makes no effort to appease you.

Jimin drags a hand down his face, and it makes his eyebrow hairs go askew. “Please tell me that this is some sick joke, that you’re not actually thinking about taking him back after this.” 

You press your lips into a firm line. The agitation inside of you is and has been steadily building. It bubbles up and overflows when you say, “Everybody fucks up, Jimin. Some people are just better at hiding it.” 

Jimin scuffs as he shakes his head, standing up from the sofa. Running both hands through his hair, he chuckles in disbelief. The hollow, humorless rumble sends a shiver down your spine.

 "Unfuckingbelievable,” he unknowingly echoes the same word you said earlier in the night. “I can’t believe you’re making excuses for him. Still!” 

You shoot up too, quick and agitated, planting your hands on your hips. “All relationships have their problems, Jimin! That’s just the way it is. When I go home, we’ll talk, and I’ll fi—we'll fix it. We always do.” There’s uncertainty in the way you say it. Like you’re trying to convince yourself as well as him.

The sour look he’s giving you right now makes you want to flick his forehead, dead right in the center where that stupid vein is protruding. 

“God, I didn’t come here for a damn lecture. I would’ve gone to my parents’ for all that.” Jimin shrugs at you like he doesn’t care, and you know he doesn’t. It pisses you off even more.

Anyone who knows Jimin knows that your best friend is a caring man. A kind, gentle soul, as your mother liked to call him. He wouldn’t hesitate to give the shirt off his back to his greatest enemy (which he does not have) if they were in need. That’s just the type of person your best friend was. The love that Jimin had for you was undeniable. You know he’d do anything for you because he’s proven it to you time and time again. But you learned quickly in your friendship that Jimin tolerates bullshit from no one. He has had no problem with putting anyone in their place, including you. Particularly when it came to your unstable relationship. 

 Your glare is harsh, words provoking when you spit, "Especially not one coming from you.” 

Jimin’s eyebrows shoot so far up, they're nearly hidden by his grown-out bangs. He smirks like he’s ready for a challenge. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

This time, you shrug. “You’re in no position to be passing judgments on my relationship, considering your track record.” The words tasted just as bitter leaving your mouth as they did hearing them said aloud. 

Jimin’s expression turns stone cold, but his smirk doesn’t waver. “My track record.”

You don’t spare him an opportunity to clapback. If you were judging correctly, you had the upper hand in this argument, and you needed to keep your momentum. 

“Don’t even pretend to be shocked, Mr. ‘I can’t keep a girl longer than a week before I’m bored and ready to hop on the next available piece of ass.

Jimin doesn’t say anything for a moment, and you can see his Adam's apple bobble when he swallows. “It’s like that, huh?”

“Oh, it’s exactly like that. You’re no better than he is."

You should’ve known you were in trouble when his smirk grew wider. “You see, that’s where you’re wrong, _____,” he taunts, wagging his pointer finger at you. It triggers your eye twitch. 

“I've treated every single booty call better than that man has ever treated you since you started dating.” He points an accusatory finger at you. “Unlike your shitty boyfriend, I know how to properly conduct myself.” 

Your jaw is clenched tight, and your eyes are narrowed into furious slits. “Bullshit.” He takes a step closer to you, and your stance is unwavering. “Yeah?”

"Yeah, Jimin, that’s bullshit, and you know it. I’ve seen how you treat those girls. Love them one day, fuck them the next, and then you're done, ready for a new one. It takes a dog to know one, Jimin,” you retort, arms folded over your chest with an eyebrow arched. 

“Don’t even pull that shit with me, _____. I make sure whoever I’m dealing with knows exactly what they’re getting into. They knew that being in a relationship was not my end goal. I just wanted to fuck around, and they were fine with that.” 

You scuff. “And they were fine with you just dropping them for the next, like it’s nothing!?”

Jimin laughs high and loud, though there’s no humor behind the sound. His eyes are blown wide, both hands in his hair. He looks exactly how you feel, crazy.

“God _____! What don’t you understand? I’m fucking single; I can do that! Your boyfriend is not! But for some reason he acts like he is!” Jimin’s words are booming, bouncing off the living room walls between you. Pretty soon you think the neighbors will come knocking with the police, and you hope that doesn’t happen because the elderly couple next door is very sweet.

The shock on your face had to be laughable. Throughout your entire friendship, Jimin has never raised his voice at you, not once. 

How dare he yell at you like that? You aren’t a child!

 Your mouth flies open, ready to shoot back with something, anything just from the sheer volume of his voice. But just as quickly as your lips fall open, they shut. Jimin’s words settle over you like ice, cooling down your temperament as your brain processes what he’s saying.  

There’s practically smoke coming from Jimin’s ears as he continues. “I’ve never kept anyone on edge all day waiting for a simple text to let them know I’m okay. Nor have I played on their insecurities to better justify my own. I’ve never fucked someone else while I was dealing with another woman, even if we weren't in a committed relationship because I’m a decent human being.” 

Your heart hammers in your chest as you shift your gaze away from his to your sock-clad feet. A silent admittal of defeat, but Jimin doesn’t stop.

“I don’t make them feel worthless, like they aren’t my equal, like I’m more deserving of respect." He comes in closer, so close that you can feel his breath on your face with every word. “How dare you even have the audacity to compare me to him? You couldn’t count on him to attend his own funeral. But who’s always there when you need them?” 

You don’t dare answer. 

“Me! I’m there! Every late-night call, every text message, every single time you need me, I’m always there. Always! Picking up the broken pieces that he leaves behind without a single fuck given.” 

With an icy glare, he leans in until the tips of your noses are nearly touching. “I’m not anything like him. I’ll never be.” 

You exhale the breath you hadn’t even realized you’d been holding as Jimin brushes past you, just barely missing your shoulder. He’d never hurt you deliberately, no matter how upset with you he is. Though you kind of wish he did. After the unjustified nasty attitude you’ve had with him tonight, you kind of wish he would just curse you out a little, throw you a few extra insults, and send you home to your cheating boyfriend. Then perhaps his compassion wouldn’t make you feel so sick to your stomach. 

Maybe that’s the exact thinking that’s gotten you into this mess in the first place. 

What are you supposed to do now? 

“Fuck,” you exhale with your head tossed back.

 At this angle, you’re face to face with the popcorn ceiling. God, you hate popcorn ceilings; they remind you of long, humid summer nights at your grandma’s unair-conditioned house in the country. Feeding feisty chickens and milking cows for two and a half months straight.

It makes your neck ache, but in this position on the edge of the couch, you ponder. Not just about your argument with Jimin, but everything you’ve been through. The disaster of tonight, your entire relationship with Theo, and all the lying, cheating, and sneaking. The heartbreaks he puts you through time and time again. Then finally your friendship with Jimin. Seemingly the only piece of stability in your life for God knows how long. 

You think about it all until the credits of your abandoned comfort movie start rolling. Begrudgingly, you reach over to grab the t.v. remote, shutting off the device with a simple click of a button. Instantly, darkness engulfs the living room. Briefly, you ponder sleeping right there on the couch, but you know your back would hate you for it, and more importantly, you need to fix this mess with Jimin. You don’t want to, but you make the short trek back toward the room at the end of the hall. 

You stop just before the doorway, peering into the bedroom. The courage you built up suddenly depleted. 

Moonlight streams in through the cracked blinds, the only source of light, neatly illuminating the room in linear streaks. Jimin sits on the edge of the bed with his head hanging low, drained, between his shoulders, elbows planted firmly on his knees. The long sleeves of his shirt are rolled up now, exposing the veins in his forearms that jump with every clench of his fingers. You’re not sure how long he’s been sitting like that, but it looks like he hasn’t moved in a while.

Through his long bangs, you can see the worn expression on his face—eyes squeezed shut, nibbling at both lips. Your heart shatters at the sight. For a moment, it feels like he’s the one that’s just been cheated on, not you. 

You take in a deep breath as you step into the dark bedroom. The floorboards creak beneath you, alerting Jimin of your presence. His keen sense of hearing. Like a hawk stalking its prey, Jimin’s gaze never falters as he watches, silently calculating your every move. Are you coming as a friend or a foe ready for more? 

Though uninvited, you settle onto the made bed next to him. You inhale deep through your nose. The faint scent of the lavender shower gel you used earlier still lingers in the air. 

“I’m sorry,” you start. You wait for a moment, giving Jimin the opportunity to say anything, but he lets you continue. “I’m sorry for the way I’ve been acting towards you.” You shake your head. “Fuck, I’m so sorry, Jimin. You didn’t deserve any of it. I—" You pause, rapidly blinking away unshed tears. Dammit, you’ve already cried so much tonight; you don’t feel like another headache.

Jimin grabs your open palm lying between you and gives your hand an encouraging squeeze. It gives you the strength to finish. “I shouldn't have been so snappy with you tonight, especially since you were just trying to help me.” You swallow the lump in your throat. “And I’m genuinely sorry for always dumping my bullshit relationship problems onto you. It’s not fair. I—I don’t know.”

 You shake your head, squeezing Jimin’s hand in return. “I just want you to know that I really, really do appreciate everything that you do for me. I know that I don’t show it enough, and I apologize for that.” A lone tear tickles your cheek as it trails down your face, soaking a tiny spot on your t-shirt. You wipe away the wetness with your free hand. “From the bottom of my heart, I love you, Jimin, so so much.” 

You don’t possess a way with words like Jimin does. That silent charm that wraps people in comfort, alleviating any and all of their worries. Your only hope is that Jimin can at least feel what you’re trying to convey.

“I love you too,” he whispers, his voice watery and thick. You don’t doubt a single word. “But that’s not why I’m upset.” Your brows knit together in confusion. 

Jimin looks off to the side, like he’s carefully contemplating what he’s trying to express. “I’m not upset with you for needing me, _____. I’d never be upset because of that. We lean on each other; we support each other. That's what makes us a team. There have been plenty of times when you’ve been there for me too. It’s what we do.” 

You shake your head. “I don’t...”

Jimin sighs, clenching his pants at the knee. What he wants to say sits at the tip of his tongue. His tone is firm when he declares, “Theo does not deserve you.”

You close your eyes as you nod your agreement. “I know that, Jimin.”

“But do you though? Seriously, _____. I don’t think you do.” 

"I do, Jimin. I know, I really do. I'm—"

 “Can’t you see that my heart is broken for you?" 

Any excuse you had ready for him dies right there in your throat. You blink your eyes open, and when you look at him, really look at him, it’s all you can see.

 It’s written in the way his shoulders slump with defeat. The way he fiddles with his fingers clasping and unclasping his hands. It’s in the way his chocolatey brown eyes, usually warm and inviting, are downcast and wet with unshed tears. In fact, you can barely keep his gaze because the emotion there is so intense. 

 “Throughout your entire relationship, I’ve watched you be there for him, constantly giving him your all until there is nothing left. And at the end of the day, what does he leave you with?”  

Your best friend doesn’t wait for you to answer.

Jimin scuffs, dark espresso eyes shiny with tears. “Agony. Insecurities that eat at you every day _____.” He clutches his shirt, right where his heart is. “It devastates me.”

Fuck, how could you have been so blind? So wrapped up in your own problems that you failed to notice how it was affecting Jimin. He has always felt so deeply. Of course, when you’re hurt, he hurts too. 

“Why do you love him?” 

Like a fish out of water, your mouth opens and shuts, only able to produce  stuttering breaths. 

The next question that comes from him is barely above a whisper. “Why can’t you leave him?”

"Because—" The word rushes out of you quicker than your mind could process it. Your eyes bulge as you slap your hands over your mouth.

“Because what?” He rushes, successfully tugging your hands away from your face. 

You pinch the frayed hem of your t-shirt. “Forget it, Jimin. It’s nothing.”

Your best friend shakes his head, his thick hair moving with him. “Don’t do that. Tell me. Please, _____.” 

  You try to fight it, you really do, because once you say it, there’s no going back. It’ll become real, and it won’t just belong to you anymore. It sits on the tip of your tongue, waiting for the perfect moment to break free. 

When Jimin calls your name, you look up to meet his gaze. His eyes are pleading with yours, filled with misery as they silently beg for an answer. “Please.”

Fuck it. If there’s anyone in this world you could spill your deepest secret to, it would without a doubt be Jimin. One of the few people on this world who you trust wholly.

“Because Jimin, if I leave him, then who’s going to love me?” 

It grows silent, as if your words shatter the tension in the air surrounding you.

To finally say it aloud feels like a major relief. A thousand-pound weight being lifted off of your shoulders. Consequently, at the same time, there’s a dreadful sinking feeling deep within you. A sick feeling that you've been trying to fight for too long. The admission was devastating but desperately needed. Maybe now, the journey to solving the root of this vulnerability can finally begin.

Jimin’s lips pull into a deep frown before he whispers your name. “Is that…really what you think? That you’re unloveable?”

If there was one thing Theo knew how to do well, it was keeping you humble. It started off subtle. A joke or two here and there, always defining him as the central point of your life. You’d laugh it off every time, never quite able to detect the subliminal honesty. For a while, it continued on like that, until it built into something blatant. 

It didn’t take long for you to actually start believing that. No other man in their right mind would want a woman so damaged by their own insecurities. You thought that he truly was the sole person that you could rely on. Thankfully, Jimin was always there to prove him wrong at least a little. But, as far as romance went, forget it. There was no one better for you than him. 

You chuckle solemnly. “No one is going to put up with me, Jimin." 

Your best friend sighs. He lets go of your hand, standing from the bed. For a moment, you think he’s ready for another fight. But you don’t have it in you to argue again. Much to your surprise, he gets down on one knee and then both, kneeling down in front of you. 

 A startled gasp sneaks through your lips. “Uh, Mini?” you whisper, slightly panicked.

Jimin grasps both of your hands in his. He licks his bottom lip, and your eyes follow the pink of his tongue. “Let me,” he whispers, a determined look in his eyes. 

You blink dazedly at him. “What?”

“Let me love you." He confirms exactly what you thought he said. “Just for tonight.” 

You sputter, pulling back slightly, though you don’t let go of his hands. “Jimin, that’s not—" You shake your head. “Do you know what you’re asking? Where’s this even coming from?”

Jimin chortles, rubbing the backs of your hands with his thumbs. "It's always been there. From the moment we met, I knew I wanted you. But at that time, I was in no place to be in a relationship.” 

You arch a brow. “And now you are?”

“Shut up." Jimin nudges your knee as you bite down on your bottom lip, suppressing your grin.

“I’m not asking for a relationship.” He then wiggles his eyebrows at you when he says, “At least not right now anyway.” 

Jimin squeaks when you dig your socked toe into the meat of his thigh. He grips your foot in his hand, restricting you from delivering anymore nudges. 

“Be serious,” you chide, even though the smile on your lips has spread wider. “Are you… really into me?”

Jimin grins, his pretty teeth on full display. “In more ways than one. All I need is one night. One night to give you what you truly deserve. Let me love you how you should’ve been a long time ago.”

The thrill that bubbles up inside you is dangerous. It’s a foreign feeling, one that you don't recall ever experiencing before. But, oh, it is so welcomed. Then, a sudden wave of realization halts your excitement. A major bump in the road. 

Your boyfriend.

You almost don’t want to say it, afraid that it might ruin the exhilaration in the air. The question comes out strained with a touch of hesitancy. “What about Theo?” 

But Jimin shrugs like he doesn’t have a single care in the world. “What about him? He’s had his fun.” 

Jimin lets go of your hands, and you frown at the loss of contact. It’s short-lived, however, when his firm grip takes hold of the backs of your legs, making you gasp. 

His breath hitches at the sound of your satisfaction when he caresses you there, thumbs working overtime to unknot your tense muscles. You sigh, relaxing under his touch. Slowly, as if time isn’t of the essence, he runs his hands all the way down your legs until his fingertips reach the heels of your feet. At the same leisurely pace, he drags his digits up until they brush over your inner things, bunching up the thin material of your basketball shorts. 

 “Isn’t it time you have a little of your own?”

You have to consider Jimin’s words carefully. There’s so much at stake if you agree. For one, your friendship with Jimin will never be the same. Though you suppose, he kind of set that in motion already with his little impromptu love confession. 

The greatest damage done will be to your relationship. No matter how you try to spin it, sleeping with Jimin tonight will make you a cheater, betraying your boyfriend in the same way that has left you with a sizable hole in your heart. 

Won’t that just make you a hypocrite in the end? Did you even have that kind of promiscuity in you?

Apparently it lied dormant inside you, because as quickly as the doubt comes, it dissipates. Just like that, your mind rationalizes the decision. 

What’s the harm in indulging for just one night? After all, it’ll be with your best friend, someone you’ve known for years and trust with your life. Not with some random man you met at some sketchy club or bar.

 If Theo can do it, why can’t you?

Instead of using words to respond, you let your body do the talking. With ease, you wrap your legs around his middle, pulling your best friend forward. Jimin lets out a surprised huff as he collides with your front, his face mere centimeters from your braless breasts. The surprise on his face is quickly replaced with enthusiasm as he admires the pillowy mounds displayed casually in front of him. 

You wrap your arms around his neck, and with as much courage as you could muster, you simply request, “Show me.” 

The grin that breaks out on Jimin’s face is infectious. A manifestation of pure joy. Thinking back as hard as you can, you can’t remember a recent time when you’ve seen him look so happy. 

He takes your chin between his thumb and pointer finger, hooded gaze flickering from your eyes then to your mouth and back to your eyes again. His thumb sits there for a moment, caressing your skin as his eyes scan across your face in a way that you could only describe as admiring. When he seems fulfilled enough, Jimin tilts your face down, guiding you towards him, and you let your eyes flutter shut. As the anticipation builds, your heart hammers beneath your ribcage. You can practically hear the thumping in your ears. 

But then there’s a pause so pregnant that it has you blinking your eyes open in confusion. If you weren’t nervous before, you certainly were now. Did you do something wrong?

You pull back slightly, just enough so that you can see Jimin’s face. Your best friend looks slightly hesitant. A gleam of uncertainty shines in his brown orbs, like he can’t believe you actually said yes. 

“Jimin,” you urge, the tenderness in your voice easing his nerves, and you try your hardest to ignore yours. “Kiss me, please.” 

The blonde man doesn’t need any further encouragement. Jimin closes the small gap between you, slotting his mouth together with yours. 

This is not the first time you and Jimin have kissed. That was years ago, back in your freshman year of college in your tiny dorm room after too many shots of illegally purchased Fireball. Surprisingly, even with your heavily intoxicated mind, you remember that day like it happened yesterday. The way you could barely keep yourselves upright, your bodies feeling too heavy and sluggish. Or how you both giggled and bantered throughout the entire ordeal, the alcohol refusing to let you take it seriously. 

You just don’t remember it feeling so damn good.

Jimin’s lips are soft when they press to yours, coated in a thin layer of chapstick. He takes his time when he kisses you like he’s always wanted to. Every peck, brush, and pressure was deliberate. Slow and searing. He needed to savor the moment, afraid of what he might miss if he went too fast. You’re not sure if you’ve ever been kissed like this before. 

With an unprecedented eagerness, you welcome the taste of him, a faint raspberry with a hint of mint. His favorite herbal tea. The same kind he always made for you after a taxing night. The plush feel of his lips has you humming in satisfaction, legs squeezing tighter around his middle. Jimin grunts, fingertips gripping the soft flesh of your thighs. 

Together, your lips work in near-perfect harmony, trading almost silent gasps and breathless sighs between each other. Noting what you liked, what you loved, and what you could probably do without. 

Jimin presses into you firmer, the hand holding your chin coming up to cradle the back of your neck. He licks at your bottom lip, begging for entry that you so graciously grant, letting your mouth fall open wider. The wet muscle of his tongue glides expertly over yours, and your nipples perk beneath your t-shirt. With every breath you take, the sensitive buds press harder into your best friend’s chest. 

Jimin's free hand grips your hip to pull you impossibly closer. A shudder wracks your body when your covered center unexpectedly meets the solid muscle hidden under his shirt. The corners of his lips twitch upwards into a smirk, clearly enjoying the evident effect he has on you.

"Damn." Jimin pulls back with a wet smack, gasping for breath. Brain foggy from the kiss, you chase his mouth with yours, craving the feel of him back on you. Jimin waits until you’re close, and then he pulls back. The groan you emit signifies your displeasure, letting your mouth fall into a frown.

He giggles at your enthusiasm, and he shakes his head naughtily at you. You lick your lips as you watch him with what you’re sure are hungry eyes. 

Jimin reaches a hand behind him, gripping the collar of his shirt. With a quick tug, he pulls the garment over and off, tossing it somewhere on the floor behind him. 

You lean back on your hands, tucking your bottom lip between your teeth. The mattress sinks under your palms with the weight. Unabashedly, you take in the sight of your best friend, scanning over the muscled, toned lines that define his body. An appreciative hum tumbles past your lips, and you nod your approval. 

Has your best friend always been so ripped? 

Jimin chuckles at your reaction. A quick brush of his fingers pushes his thick bangs off of his forehead, leaving his blemish-free skin on full display.

“Like what you see?” He asks breathily, even though he already knows the answer. Under the basketball shorts, his fingers trail up and down the sides of your bare thighs. The ticklish sensation makes you tremble just slightly. 

“Mm, not too bad." You feign nonchalance and shrug, eyeballing the necklace adorning his thick neck. You can’t wait to have the shiny silver dangling over your face when he fuc—

“Ow!” You yelp when Jimin pinches the skin there, not enough to leave a mark but just enough for you to feel it. 

He pulls you in close again, your foreheads nearly touching. “Watch yourself,” he warns in a firm whisper, thumb caressing the tender spot. His warm breath hits your chin with every word. “Or you won’t get to have any fun later.” 

His words, the tone he used with you, almost sounded…mean? But for some strange reason it doesn’t alarm you. In fact, it might’ve even turned you on a little if the wet patch forming in your panties was anything to go by. 

Jimin captures you in another passionate kiss, this one more dynamic than the first. He wastes no time slipping his tongue back in, licking and sucking his presence in your mouth. A gentle hand cradles the back of your head, pulling you in close and keeping you there. You keep up as best as you can, mirroring his actions with your own. You may not be as experienced as Jimin, but the way he was gripping every part of you—your shirt, the back of your neck, and your hands—desperate to keep you close reassures you that you were doing just fine. 

Every brush of his lips, flick of his tongue, and airy whine from his mouth smothered by yours makes you dizzier by the second. 

When you both pull back, lungs burning from your lack of oxygen, breathy pants fill the warm, quiet air. You were virtually frozen earlier, but the bedroom has grown far too hot now. 

“Fuck,” Jimin groans. He smiles unbelievably to himself, shaking his head. “There’s so much I want to do with you tonight.” Like a bobble head, you nod in certain agreement. He then captures your eyes in a heated gaze, the hunger in his eyes undeniable. He licks at his kiss-swollen lips, and your eyes follow every movement. 

“Can I take care of you? Will you let me, baby?”

“Yes, yes, please.” 

Jimin’s chuckle sends a delighted shiver down your spine. Taking the hem, he frees you from the confines of your t-shirt, pulling the fabric off of you with ease. When he tosses it, it lands somewhere on the bed behind you. 

Your nipples stand firm and proud, already pebbled from your heated kiss with Jimin. He practically salivates at the sight of them, running the wet muscle of his mouth back and forth over his plump bottom lip. You know that he’s always been a boobs man, but the fact that your boobs were the cause of his content had a bit of pride swelling in your chest. It feels incredible to be wanted so unabashedly.

Jimin reaches up, his hand hovering over your left breast. “May I?” He asks, eyes flickering up to gauge your reaction. 

You swallow down your anticipation. “If you don’t, I feel like I might explode.”

Jimin hums, and his smile is sincere. “We can’t have that now, can we?"

You sigh, breath stuttering when he strokes his thumb over your erect nipple. With his other hand, he cups your right breast. Heavy and squishy, it fills his left palm, your stiff bud grazing his skin. When he squeezes your boob, gentle and cautious, your thighs squeeze together in response, the dull ache between your legs becoming increasingly more difficult to ignore. 

“Beautiful,” Jimin whispers, pinching the hardened peak with his thumb and pointer finger. You don’t say anything; you can’t say anything with how hard you’re biting down on your bottom lip. Your best friend leans down to pepper a trail of kisses across the plane of your chest, leaving goosebumps in its wake. He then flattens his tongue, licking a stripe between the valley of your breasts, and blows on the wet skin. You cradle the back of his head, tangling your fingers in the blonde locks. 

“Oh!” you gasp when he engulfs your nipple with the wet warmth of his mouth, reflexively tugging at his hair. Jimin groans from the action, the vibrations from his delight traveling from your nipple straight down to your cunt. His tongue flicks in rapid successions over your nipple before circling your areola. In his other hand, he rolls and tugs your right nipple, still pinched between his fingers. 

The simultaneous assaults on your sensitive buds have your head reeling. The discomfort between your thighs was no longer dull but immense. Your pussy flutters around nothing, steadily soaking your panties with arousal.

“Jimin,” you mewl, eyes slamming shut when his teeth graze just barely over your stiff peak. When he sucks, the pressure creates stars beneath your eyelids. Your mouth drops open in a silent gasp, eyebrows pinching together. It makes your spine arch, further thrusting your chest into his mouth.

Your breast bounces back into place when he releases your nipple from his mouth. Every quick breath from his mouth cast over your stiff peak, chilling the wet, heated skin. 

You take a moment to catch your breath, but as soon as you inhale, the air is knocked from your lungs again when he sucks the skin of your left breast into his eager mouth. Pleasure explodes over your breast as Jimin marks you with his love bite. Satisfied with his work, he kisses the prominent bruise before he sucks your left nipple into his mouth, giving it the same attention as he did the first. 

Squirming under his keen affection, your hips jut forward to collide with his abs. It offers a brief smidge of relief, but not nearly enough. The ache emitting from your center was absolutely unbearable. Trapped behind too many layers of clothing, your clit was begging to be rubbed. 

You loosen your grip on the comforter, snaking your hand between your bodies down toward your wetness. Just as your fingers breach the waistband of your shorts, Jimin captures your wrist in his hand before interlocking his fingers with yours. You cry out in frustration, and you feel Jimin smirk around a mouthful of your tit. When he releases your nipple with a wet pop, a thin string of his saliva connects you.

It continues on like that for what feels to you like forever. Jimin ravages your breasts, alternating between your nipples, licking, sucking, and nibbling to his heart’s content. Hickeys now litter your chest, a bold yet beautiful display of his insatiable desire. You won’t dare to wear any low-cut top or dress for at least a week. By the end, your cunt is still untouched and practically weeping, confined by your soaked panties and basketball shorts.

When Jimin is finally satisfied, he releases your tit, and your chest is wracked with heaving breaths. He leans forward to peck you once on the lips and then once more. “Lie back,” he whispers against your lips, a hand on your shoulder guiding you to lay flat on his bed. You follow his command, maneuvering so that you’re in a comfortable position on his bed. You’re not quite sure what to do with your hands, letting them rest on your stomach. 

Jimin hooks his fingers in the waistband of your shorts, tugging them past the thickness of your thighs then down the rest of your legs. On the floor, they drop in a heap in front of him. 

A sharp intake of breath comes from Jimin, and you prop yourself up on your elbows. Your best friend, still on his knees before you, is face to face with your panty-clad pussy. That sinful tongue of his makes another appearance, and you make a mental note to buy him a new chapstick later. 

When he whistles appreciatively, your body flushes. “Damn,” he mutters, a finger tracing down your slit. The wet fabric sticks uncomfortably to your skin, molding itself to the shape of your slick folds.

 “You’re soaked, baby.” Jimin leans down to plant a firm kiss on your lips, and when he realigns himself, there's a slight sheen coating his mouth. 

“Jimin,” you whine, coated with a mix of embarrassment and arousal. He’s got you leaking like a fucking waterfall, and all he’s done was play with your tits. 

“Okay, okay,” Jimin chuckles, finally removing your panties from your hips. The dampened fabric joins your bottoms on the floor. You shudder, wet skin greeted by the warm bedroom air. 

 “Hush your whining.” 

Without warning, he licks a slow, broad stripe up your slit, stopping just below your needy clit. Along the way, he collects your juices on his tongue, savoring the heady taste. A strangled moan escapes you as your head falls back between your shoulders. 

Jimin groans from the sheer taste of you, his eyes fluttering shut. His tastebuds are trembling with delight. You’re more delectable than he could have ever imagined. He’s positive he can never eat another pussy ever again; he doesn’t want to eat another pussy ever again. Your juices have saturated his tongue, forever claiming his mouth as yours. 

Jimin grips the meat of your thighs, pushing them up to your chest to allow himself a clear shot at your pussy. You hook your hands underneath your knees, keeping the position he put you in. It gives you the perfect view to watch Jimin feast on your weeping sex.

His smirk is dangerous when he purrs, “Hold on tight, pretty.” 

He wastes no time burying himself between your thighs, moaning when your essence graces his tongue again. You cry out, toes curling when the thick muscle flicks over your winking entrance. 

“Oh fuck, fuck!” Your eyes flutter shut, rolling behind your closed eyelids. 

His mouth works diligently against you, his wet tongue heavy as it drags over and then through your folds, further soaking your wetness with his saliva. The sound of it is vulgar, reminiscent of someone mixing a larger bowl of mac and cheese. It makes you gasp, body heated in a blush. 

"Yes, Jimin," you shiver, elbows going shaky beneath you. Your fingers grip where you hold your shaky legs up for him, crescent moon shapes indenting your skin. Jimin hums, sucking your labia into his heated mouth. Your hips buck once, twice, and he releases them with a wet pop. 

You fall back against the plush bed, arms weakened by the immense pleasure. Your hips have a mind of their own, canting forward chasing the euphoric feeling of his mouth, and he so graciously gives it to you. Your breathing is shattered. Shaky moans and excitable squeals tumble past your parted lips, echoing off the walls of his once quiet bedroom. 

Jimin flattens his tongue, shaking his head from side to side. His mop of fair hair, gone messy from your tugging, tickles your inner thighs with the movement. He eats your pussy like a man starved. Like it’s the last meal he’ll ever have on this Earth. Even when his face is stuffed in your heat, his senses completely overtaken by the smell, feel, and taste of you, he can’t fucking get enough. He doesn’t think he ever will.

Every flutter of your empty walls sends another syrupy gush of your arousal, soaking his face and the bedsheets beneath you. You can hardly breathe as Jimin drinks you up, taking everything you give him, his lips greedy when it slurps at your leaky opening. 

It's so messy and so fucking wet.

When Jimin pulls away, his mouth and chin are shiny with his efforts. He sighs  contentedly as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, panting like he’s the one getting the best head of his life instead of you. He breathes, “You’re so juicy, baby.” 

Hypnotized by you, he delves back in, effortlessly parting your folds with his soaked tongue, licking up and down, up and around, but never where you need him the most. Where your ache is the most ferocious.

“Jimin,” you practically sob, heart hammering in your chest. Unshed tears have begun to collect at your waterline. God, it was good, so fucking good, but you might die if he doesn’t get his mouth on your clit soon. 

“Please, I-I need,” but you break off into a choked whine when his nose bumps your clit, the only bit of stimulation it’s gotten all night. 

Jimin detaches from your pussy with a wet pop. Hooded eyes glance up to meet yours. There's a hint of a smirk on his lips. The corners of his mouth lifted just barely. He was clearly enjoying the torture he was putting you through. 

“What was that, baby?” 

"My," you plead, voice watery and thick. “I need, my-you..." You hesitate, cheeks burning with what you want to say but can’t quite bring yourself to do it. 

Jimin steals the words right from your throat. “You need me to suck that pretty, little clit?” 

You swallow thickly, nodding before you can respond. “I need it.” You watch as Jimin’s jaw ticks and the grip he has on your hips goes tighter.

 “Say it." There's a tilt in his voice that’s unfamiliar to you. You can’t quite put your finger on it. 

Your eyes bulge. It's humorous how quickly the fog clears from your brain. “What?”

“I want to hear you say it. Tell me what you need.” 

“Jimin,” you whine, kicking your leg in frustration. Your body heats as it floods with embarrassment. “Are you serious?” 

Jimin smiles wickedly, pearly whites on full display. “Say it, _____. Or we stop right here.” 

“I uh, I need you to..."

There’s an amused glint in his eyes when he lifts his eyebrows, watching for you to continue. He plans a kiss at your inner thigh in encouragement. 

Your inhale is deep, pride tossed out of the window when you plead, “I need you to suck my clit, Jimin."

When he sees the desperation in your eyes, deep espresso connecting with yours over the plane of your quivering stomach, he loses it. You sob when his mouth engulfs your needy bud wholly. Your fingers scramble, letting go of our legs to tangle in his blonde strands, pulling tight. Jimin groans, and the vibrations shoot straight through your clit to the very tips of your toes. He holds you down himself, pinning your thighs to your chest, rendering you helpless to his merciless suction. 

The tip of his tongue circles your clit, quick and firm. “God yes!” You moan when his lips wrap tight around your swollen bud to suck incessantly. Back arching from the bed, toes curling in the open air, tears finally leak from the corners of your eyes, trailing down your temples. 

When he slips his finger in and then another, knuckle-deep, your slick walls grip him up instantly. They pulse around the slim digits, drawing him in deeper. He didn’t even need to move; the pressure alone sent you over the edge, crashing headfirst into euphoria. 

When you cum, it’s not shrill and elegant like those well-produced pornos you’ve watched before. It’s deep and guttural as it blossoms from the pit of your stomach until it rattles through you, seizing your body. Your muscles tighten, thighs quivering around his head as he delivers wave after pleasurable wave with his soaked tongue and fingers. 

And Jimin loves every second of it.

He doesn’t let up, even after you’ve cum. It’s not until you’re whining, pushing weakly at his head, that he takes mercy on you, pulling away after one final kiss to your spent pussy. 

Vision still teary, you blink up at the ceiling, lying there in disbelief and panting as you try to catch your breath. Reaching a hand up, you wipe away the tiny beads of sweat that have collected at your hairline. 

Below you hear Jimin finally rise from the floor, but you make no attempt to get up, still spent from your amazing orgasm. There’s some rummaging, the sound of clothes hitting the ground, and then the bed dips with Jimin’s weight. He clambers over to you, covering your body with his. You welcome his added heat, arms weakly coming up to wrap themselves around his neck.

He smiles down at you, eyes flickering all across your face, soaking in your post-orgasm haze. His touch is gentle when he brushes stray hair away from your sweaty forehead. 

“Hey you,” he greets, leaning down to give you an Eskimo kiss. 

You trace a finger down the slope of his jaw down to his chin before you cradle his cheek in your palm. “Hey yourself." You smile back, voice slightly hoarse. 

“How are you feeling?” 

You swallow, licking at the dryness on your lips. Your grin is sincere when you say, “I feel amazing. You’re really good at that, you know.” 

Jimin giggles, interlocking his fingers with yours to kiss the back of your hand. With his thumb he strokes the skin. 

“Thank you, Jimin.” 

Your best friend leans down to capture you in a gentle kiss. Your tongue darts out to swipe across his lip, dipping inside to taste yourself on his tongue. You pull away, satisfied and a little breathless.

 “Of course. It’s what you deserve.”

You hum, tracing a finger from his sternum down to the ridges that make up his abs. He shivers under your feather-light touch. “Do I maybe deserve a little something else?” You tilt your head to meet his gaze. 

Jimin raises his eyebrows at you. A playful gleam in his eyes. “A little something like?” He trails off.

You hold his eye contact, and with your free hand, you reach down between his legs to take hold of his stiffened member. Jimin gasps, shutting his eyes tight. He’s heavy in your palm, his skin smooth and warm to the touch. He must’ve been hard for quite some time

“Yeah,” Jimin nods, breath knocked from his lungs when you squeeze the base of his cock. “I think that can be arranged.”

You hum, working your hand over his stiff rod. He grunts when your strokes come faster, his freehand fisting the sheets beside him. “Just like that, pretty,” he encourages, and you do exactly as you’re told. 

You soak in how beautiful he looks in ecstasy. The way his thick brows pinch with every stroke. How his plush lips fall open, unleashing sounds just as pretty as he is. Delicate yet husky. Your favorite part is the way his stomach muscles quake with the effort of holding himself up. 

“Fuck, baby,” Jimin moans as your wrist flicks upwards, from base to head. 

When you glide your fingers across his reddened tip, your digits slicking with his precum, a hand claps over your wrist, restricting your movements. 

His eyes bore into yours, his voice strained when he breathes, “If you don’t stop, I’ll come, and I don’t want to yet. Not until I’m inside you.”

You shiver, exhilaration rattling your bones. “Then, what are you waiting for?” 

You allow Jimin to position your body until you’re lying on your side. When he assures you that you're comfortable, he comes up behind you, slotting his chest to your back. You lean into him, comforted by the feel of his own heart thrumming in his chest. Nerves and excitement are coursing through his veins as well, anticipating what is to come. Your senses heighten at the feel of his hard cock nestled between your ass cheeks.

He leans in to kiss the plump of your cheek before reaching behind himself to retrieve a condom from inside his nightstand. 

You stop him, a quick, gentle hand on his thigh. “Can you… I want you to fuck me raw.” 

A muttered curse from behind makes you grin. “_____, are you sure?” 

You nod, thighs rubbing together, the heat between your legs intensifying at the mere thought. “I want to feel all of you. Is that okay?” 

“Fuck, yeah, that’s okay." Jimin doesn’t need much convincing to agree. He just needs to get inside you quick. His hand slides from your hip to your thigh, cupping underneath your knee to prop your leg up and open enough.

 “Tell me if it’s too much,” he whispers, cockhead sliding through your slippery folds to nudge at your needy clit.

You gasp, reaching a hand up to tangle in the hair on the back of his head. “I’m fine, Mini." You roll your hips back, seeking more of that delicious pressure on your pearl. Your teeth clench in a hiss when he bumps it again. “Just please fuck me.”

You watch, eyes eager as Jimin slides in without much resistance, filling you up to the brim. It knocks the air from your lungs. He’s so incredibly thick, thicker than any other dick you’ve taken before. It feels like he’s splitting you open in the best way possible. 

Jimin groans, engulfed by your soaked warmth. His body flushes, one hand fisting the bedsheets, the other with a vice grip on your hip. Quick short pants slip past his mouth to coat the shell of your ear.

You spread your legs wider, the propped one coming to hook behind his thigh. Somehow, it slips him deeper into your flooded canal, leaving you both crying out. 

“Holy shit, Jimin,” you breathe, as your walls pulse around him, adjusting to his sheer girth.

Jimin’s chuckle is breathy, full of disbelief. He pecks your shoulder before resting his forehead there. He’s thinking exactly what you are.

Why does it feel so fucking good?

 “I know, baby.” He gives an experimental thrust of his hips that has your eyes rolling, his hips pressed flush against your ass. “So fucking good,” he murmurs in your ear, and a delighted shiver journeys down your curved spine. 

The pace he sets is maddeningly slow, nothing like what you’re used to. Languid rolls of his hips that stuff you full before leaving you just about empty, only to fill you right back up again. You can hardly breathe through the feel of him, gasping for air every time he presses back in. Jimin moves from your shoulder, attaching his lips to the juncture in your neck, licking and sucking. It leaves you with marks so fierce you have no idea how you’ll cover them later.

“Jimin,” you whine when the pace gets to you. A pressure that builds and builds but never fully erupts. 

Looking back, you capture him in a lust-filled gaze. "Fuck me faster, baby, please.” 

Jimin grunts, his brows furrowing when he picks up his pace, his hips meeting your ass cheeks with resounding smacks. They’re enough to fill the bedroom and bring a warm hue to your cheeks. 

The noises spilling from your cunt are just as lewd. Roaring slickening when he glides in and out. Messy when it soaks his cock in your transparent juices, dripping down your thighs onto the bedsheets below. 

Jimin tweaks your stiff nipples with his thumb before pinching them between his fingers, rolling and tugging. The pain, sharp and temporary, makes you jerk, toes curling tight. 

“Shit!” you wail, fist pounding the bed. “Just like that baby.”

"S'good, pretty?” he whispers, choked up with his own pleasure. 

You don’t respond; you can’t respond with the way the pounds into your dripping heat. He wraps you in his firm hold, his arm coming to sling across your chest. The extra leverage he needed to pull you back, forcing you to meet his deliciously deep thrusts. 

The force of his fucking rocks the bed beneath you, the headboard banging against the wall. You’ve definitely got to write Mr. and Mrs. Welles an apology letter tomorrow. 

There is nothing you can do except take it, helpless to his powerful pumps. Like a ragdoll, you lie limp, taking everything he gives you. The heat in your lower tummy swells, your pussy squeezing around his heavy cock. “Close,” you choke, your mind fuzzy and delirious. 

Jimin gasps as he thrusts upwards one last time, filling you to the hilt before he pulls out completely with a wet pop. He leaves you empty, clenching around nothing, the heat in your belly subsiding. 

Your eyes fly open, complaints ready to fly past your lips, but Jimin stops you. 

“Hands and knees,” he pants as he palms your ass cheek. "Want to fuck you from behind.”

Any rebuttals you had ready die right there on your tongue. You prop yourself up on all fours, limbs slightly wobbly, and arch your spine in a way you know will make the light-haired man crazy. 

You feel Jimin position himself behind you. Tucking your bottom lip between your teeth, you wiggle your ass, swaying from side to side to tease him a little. 

Your yelp is shrill when his palm collides with your right cheek, flinching at the feeling.

Jimin hums, marveling at the ripples it creates. “Behave,” he tsks as he palms the sore area and you lick your abused lips. 

He groans as he feeds his cock to your pussy. Your walls greedily accept him with a filthy-sounding squelch. When he’s all the way in, he steadies himself, with both hands on your hips. His huff grazes the skin of your back. “How are you still so fucking tight?” 

You sigh, dropping your head forward between your shoulders. He holds you in his palms, caressing your fleshy hips.  

He wastes no time in setting a brutal pace, fucking you faster and harder than before. You scramble, hands finding purchase on the bedsheets, but each roll of his hips sends your body forward and back, tugging the sheets loose from the mattress corners. 

"God, yes,” you groan, body trembling with delight. He pounds into you, the flesh of your ass smacking his thighs and lower stomach with every thrust. Its roaring and filthy.

Jimin is just as, if not more vocal than you, whining, groaning, and gasping every time he stuffs you full. It sets your body alight to know he’s just as affected as you are. 

He grabs a fistful of your hair, yanking your head back, and your spine bows deeper than before. "Oh, fu—," you try, but you can’t even get the words out as he plunges into you. Rhythmic and precise.

It doesn’t take much until you’re drawing near again and you know you’re close when the fluttery warmth in the pit of your stomach returns, your pussy squeezing Jimin tight. 

He cries out, falling over to cover your sweaty back with his front. “M’ not gonna last,” he whimpers, rocking forward, body trembling with the efforts of his pumping.

He fucks you like that. His body is glued to your back, constant rolls of his hips that slide him deeper and deeper. His tip nudges incessantly at your front wall, gliding repeatedly over that spongy spot. The spot that has you seeing stars.

When Jimin feels you tighten up around him, he snakes his hand under your body to circle your swollen bundle of nerves. Like magic, the added pressure is just what you need to reach your peak. 

The coil, pulled taut in your tummy, snaps, and euphoria pulses through your veins, hot and rapid. Your mouth falls open, eyes squeezing shut as you gush around his cock. A strangled wail that you’re not even sure came from you resounds in the room, but you can barely hear it past the blood rushing in your ears. Falling face-first into the mattress, your muscles seize as your body is overtaken by the aftershocks of your orgasm.

Through it all, Jimin's hips never let up, and you flutter around him, creaming his thick cock. The ferocity of your orgasm triggers his own. Jimim ruts once, twice, and then he comes with a breathy sigh that sounds something like your name, painting your quivering walls with his hot seed.

────˚‧୨ᰔ୧‧˚────

It’s early when Jimin comes to the next morning. He can tell by the lack of sunlight beaming through his cracked window blinds, covering his bedroom in a barely there glow. 

He smacks his lips tiredly, muscles achy with exertion making their presence known, and in an instant, memories of last night come flooding back to him.

 Picking you up outside of that restaurant. The sight of you ripped his heart to pieces. Standing there alone in the cold, looking so vulnerable, clinging on to what little sanity you had left. You looked so heartbroken but yet so beautiful. Always so beautiful. 

Or later on, when he confessed his love for you. An undying ache that’s been tugging at his heart after all these years of being your friend, your best friend. A title he doesn’t take lightly. Not because he was in love with you, but because he loved you. Every part of you, your mind, your heart, and soul.

 How you didn’t turn him away, accepting his affection and embracing it wholly. There was so much love he had to give, so much time he needed to make up for after all these years lost. 

Jimin turns his head, and there you lie, a beautiful smile on your face directed at him. His heart stutters in his chest. 

“Good morning,” you greet, your tongue peeking out to wet your lips. 

Jimin rolls over on his side, readjusting on his pillow. “Morning,” he grins, all teeth. “How’d you sleep?”

You inhale deep, your smile never leaving your pretty lips. Your gaze is still slightly hazy with sleep when you look at him. There’s a gentle glow surrounding you, radiating utter bliss. Happy and carefree. It’s been so long since he’s seen you like this, too long.

“Mmm, I slept amazing, thanks to you.” You reach out to poke the solid planes of his stomach, hidden by the comforter. You yawn, hands coming up to rest under your head. “Though, I should rough you up for letting me fall asleep without my bonnet on. I just got my hair done.” 

Jimin snickers, scooting closer to you. He grabs hold of your hands, interlocking his fingers with yours. “I did try to wake you up, but considering it's been so long since you’ve been fucked to sleep, I figured you needed it." 

Your eyes widen, mouth curving up in disbelief. “Fuck you!”

Jimin shrugs, feigning nonchalance. “Been there, done that.” 

You gasp, reaching over to smack his arms as you’re taken over by giggles. “Shut up, Jimin!” 

He laughs, dodging your harmless blows, and you don’t oppose when Jimin sits up, scooping you in his arms. Effortlessly, he plops you down over his lower stomach. When your giggles subside, you trace a finger over his chest, covering his skin with invisible doodles that only you can see.

“I uh..." you clear your throat. “I talked to Theo earlier." 

Jimin does his best to mask his apprehension. “Yeah?” He fingers the hem of his t-shirt you’re wearing, which basically belongs to you.

You nod. “He wanted to know where I went.” 

“Did you tell him?” 

“I did.” Jimin arches his brow when you smirk. You lean over to grab your phone from under the pillow. You tap the screen, turning the device on, and there’s a bright glow cast over your face. Swift fingers tap a few more times before you turn the screen to him. “I sent him this.”

Jimin squints at the brightly lit screen, but when his vision clears and he recognizes what you’re showing him, he gasps incredulously. 

On the screen is a picture of him and you, tangled together in his bed and obviously naked under the sheets. In the picture, Jimin is still fast asleep, eyes closed and his mouth slightly ajar. But you, on the other hand, are wide awake. In fact, you’re posing for the camera, two fingers up in a peace sign next to your face and your mouth pouted in “duck lips." On your skin, his love bites from last night are proudly displayed.

Below the picture, there’s a message from Theo that you have no plans to respond to. It included every curse word in the book, words that Jimin didn’t even know existed. 

You shrug, locking the phone, and tossing it aside. “I think it’s safe to say we’re done.” 

Jimin tosses his head back in a laugh. He shakes his head as he says your name. “You’re unbelievable!” 

“Noo, what’s unbelievable is that I stayed with him for so long," you counter, rolling your eyes. You grab both of his hands in yours. 

“Thank you,” you nod. “For staying by my side through all of this. And dealing with my stubbornness. I truly don’t know what I would do without you. I love you, Jimin.” 

Jimin’s grip is gentle when he grabs the back of your neck to pull you into his kiss. You gladly accept, cradling his face in your hands. 

When you pull away, you’re breathless. “I love you,” Jimin whispers on your lips. “So much.” 

You beam, sitting back on his muscley thighs. Your head tilts, however, when your clothed center comes in contact with something firm.

 “Are you…hard?” Your question is laced with amazement. 

Jimin groans, cheeks reddening in embarrassment when you laugh aloud. “I can’t help it; everything you do turns me on. You could literally breath and I’d be hard as a rock.” The heat between your legs makes a fierce return.

 “Hm, is that so?”

You hook your thumb in the waistband of your panties, ready to slide them down your legs. Jimin licks his lips as hunger clouds his pretty brown eyes. “You were so generous to me last night. Why don’t you sit back and let me take care of it, baby?"

For a long, agonizing second, neither of you moved. The distance hadn’t just been geographical; it had been a thief of time, a massive, invisible wall built out of standard-issue letters, brief scheduled phone calls, and the agonizing ache of a countdown calendar that felt like it was moving in reverse. Two years. Seven hundred and thirty days of waking up alone.

It didn’t feel real. He looked like a projection, a trick of the dim hallway lighting.

Then, he smiled. It was that slow, slightly lopsided, incredibly fond smile that always crinkled the corners of his eyes the one he saved specifically for you.

"Aren't you going to say hello?" his voice was lower than you remembered, a little rough from traveling, but so intensely him that the last fragile thread of your composure snapped.

The sweater dropped to the floor. You crossed the distance between you in three blurred strides, throwing yourself into him so hard it forced a soft, breathy laugh from his chest. His arms wrapped around you instantly, locking behind your back, pulling you upward until your toes were barely brushing the hardwood.

The dam broke. The sheer, exhausting weight of the waiting the quiet nights spent staring at the ceiling, the ache in your chest whenever you saw couples walking in the park, the terrifying, irrational fear that things would be different when he returned everything hit you in a single, crushing wave. You buried your face into the crook of his neck, sobbing so hard your shoulders shook.

Jeonghan didn’t try to tell you to stop. He just held you, his hands burying into your hair, pressing fervent, grounding kisses against your temple, your cheek, whatever piece of skin he could reach. He rocked you gently in the cramped hallway, his own breaths coming in ragged, uneven hitches.

"I'm here," he whispered, over and over, a mantra against your skin. "I'm right here. I'm not leaving again. I've got you."

The comfort of him was instantaneous, a physical sensation that flooded your system like warmth returning to frozen fingers. He smelled like the cold night air, a hint of laundry detergent, and that familiar, clean scent that was uniquely his. The reality of him the solid breadth of his shoulders, the heat radiating through his hoodie, the calloused texture of his fingertips tracing your spine anchored you back to earth.

Hours dissolved. Time, which had dragged its feet for two years, suddenly became fluid and impossible to track.

By midnight, the heavy emotional storm had settled into a sort of dizzy, chaotic euphoria. The apartment, usually pristine, was a disaster zone. Jeonghan’s duffel bag had been half-unpacked in a frantic search for a specific souvenir he’d bought you, leaving random items of clothing scattered on the floor. The takeout boxes from the late-night comfort food you’d ordered sat half-eaten on the coffee table.

You were sitting on the living room floor, your back pressed against the base of the sofa, wrapped in a giant duvet. Jeonghan was sitting between your legs, leaning back against your chest, letting you mindlessly run your fingers through his hair.

"Your hair is getting long again," you murmured, your voice exhausted but lighter than it had been in years. "I like it."

"Good," he hummed, tilting his head back to look up at you upside down. His eyes were bright, sparkling with that familiar, mischievous glint that the military hadn't managed to dull. "Because keeping it short was a tragedy. I looked like a tennis ball."

You let out a wet, startled laugh, swatting his shoulder. "You did not. You looked handsome."

"I looked strict," he corrected, turning around completely so he was kneeling in front of you, wrapping his arms around your waist over the duvet. "And I don't want to be strict anymore. I just want to be lazy. With you. For the next three weeks, minimum."

He leaned in, pressing his lips to yours. The kiss started soft and sweet, a lingering reassurance, but it quickly deepened, fueled by the underlying electricity of two years of unspent devotion. It was clumsy, intense, and filled with a desperate sort of hunger that left you both breathless. Jeonghan pulled you closer, pulling the duvet down, his hands sliding up to cup your face, his thumbs wiping away the faint, dried tracks of your earlier tears.

When he pulled back, just an inch, his forehead rested against yours. His breathing was shallow, his eyes dark and incredibly soft.

"You have no idea how many times I replayed this exact moment in my head," he whispered, his voice dropping to a vulnerable register that made your heart ache. "In the barracks, when it was freezing, or when we were out on marches... I just kept thinking about coming back to this room. To you."

"I'm here," you mirrored his earlier words, reaching out to trace the sharp line of his jaw. "We made it."

Jeonghan stared at you for a long moment, a strange, sudden shift happening in his expression. The playful, affectionate look melted into something incredibly intense, almost determined. He blinked, cleared his throat, and suddenly looked... panicked?

"Right," he said abruptly, sitting up straight. "Wait. Hold on."

"What's wrong?" you asked, blinking in confusion as he suddenly scrambled backward on the floor, his knees knocking against the coffee table and sending a plastic cup of soda rattling precariously.

"Nothing! Nothing is wrong. Just stay there. Don't look. Actually, look, but give me a second."

Jeonghan scrambled over to his half-unpacked duffel bag, his hands diving into the mess of clothes. He was muttering under his breath, tossing aside a pair of rolled-up socks and a sweater.

You watched him, completely bewildered, the emotional weight of the night suddenly taking a sharp turn into comedy. "Jeonghan, what are you doing? Are you looking for the souvenir? I told you, you don't have to give it to me right-"

"It's not a souvenir," he grunted, his hand finally diving deep into the zippered inner pocket of the bag. "Well, it is, technically, but-aha!"

He pulled his hand out, clutching a small, slightly crumpled velvet box.

Your breath caught in your throat. The entire world seemed to stop spinning.

Jeonghan turned around on his knees, his face flushed, his hair a chaotic mess from your fingers, wearing a oversized black hoodie and sweatpants, sitting amidst scattered laundry and half-eaten tteokbokki. He looked entirely unpolished, incredibly stressed, and absolutely beautiful.

He shuffled back over to you on his knees, stopping right in front of your spot on the floor. He held the box tightly in both hands, his knuckles white.

"I had a whole plan," he started, his voice a mix of a laugh and a sigh. "I was going to take you out next week. A nice restaurant. I was going to dress up, look like a proper gentleman, not like... a goblin who just crawled out of a duffel bag. But I can't."

You couldn't speak. You could only stare at him, your hands gripping the edges of the duvet.

"I spent two years away from you," Jeonghan said, his eyes locking onto yours with a sincerity so fierce it made your eyes sting all over again. "And every single day, I realized that the only thing that makes sense in my life is you. I don't want to wait until next week. I don't care about a fancy restaurant or a perfect speech. I'm home, and I want this to be our home. Officially."

He flipped the box open. Inside sat a simple, elegant ring, catching the warm light of the living room lamp.

"Marry me," he said. It wasn't a rehearsed question; it was a plea, soft and breathless and completely raw. "Let me take care of you for the rest of our lives. Please?"

A watery, breathless laugh escaped your lips. It was so perfectly Jeonghan. No grand, manufactured gestures just absolute honesty, delivered in the middle of a chaotic living room floor at one in the morning, completely unable to contain his own heart.

"You're an idiot," you choked out, the tears spilling over your lashes again.

Jeonghan let out a soft, nervous chuckle, his shoulders dropping a fraction. "Is that a yes, or are you just insulting my timing?"

"Yes," you said, reaching out and grabbing the lapels of his hoodie to pull him toward you. "Yes, of course, yes."

He didn't even put the ring on your finger first. He dropped the box onto the duvet and tackled you back against the sofa, burying his face in your neck, laughing with a sound of pure, unadulterated relief. You wrapped your arms around his back, holding him tightly, the last lingering ghost of the past two years completely evaporating into the warm air of the room.

When he finally pulled back to slip the ring onto your trembling finger, his hands were still shaking slightly. It fit perfectly.

Okay, maybe you were being just a little bit facetious with the whole ‘absolutely no reason for him to be acting like a spoiled brat’ thing, the reason for his displeasure is obvious. He’s made it abundantly clear time and time again but that isn’t going to stop you from playing dumb. 

His reason is just so– so– stupid. 

Territorial, maybe. 

Jimin has never liked Hoseok, not since their very first meeting at Miss Oswald’s front door. 

It had been a few weeks after you had taken Jimin in off the streets– his frame finally starting to fill out a little, no longer just skin and bones and bruises from whatever fights he had gotten into out there. His entire being finally starting to glow. 

At the time, his tail was whipping back and forth frantically as you stood in front of the door, having just pressed the bell. Happy yips, licks to your cheek planting themselves in place as he was practically vibrating with light. He had been so happy, so excited. 

You? Your heart had been beating a mile a minute at how far he was coming along, how much he was already growing out of his shell. How carefree the energy around him always started to bend whenever he was relaxing on the couch or in the sun. 

And then, then the switch happened. 

It was night and day, honestly. 

All of that light, that excitement shut down the moment your neighbour had opened the door, Hoseok standing right behind her frame. 

His tail was wagging– of course it was, you had always known him to be a happy hybrid. A sunshine smile that warms up your toes even in the coldest winters, a hug so tight it might break your bones. Everything about him making someone feel just so safe and content. That same smile placed on his lips now as he looks at you, only you. 

Like there's a whole Earth to orbit but the only thing that can draw his attention is you, type of smile. 

The second Hoseok’s mouth opened to say your name in greeting, a low growl could be heard from behind your body. A singular sound that made you feel as if the birds decided to stop singing and the wind had ceased its own motion around you. One that had made your hair stand on end, to cause your pulse in your throat to raise just a few notches faster. One that you had never come out of Jimin before, right along with a swift tug at your wrist, urging you backwards. Away from the very thing he perceived as a threat. 

Oh no– that he knew was a threat from just that singular look. 

Hoseok only stood there with a simple tilt of his head, a gentle smirk finding his lips as Jimin continued to try to pull you back to the safety of your own home. Clearly unthreatened in the slightest, clearly amused at the affection Jimin so obviously had for you. He knew that look all too well, too. 

Hoseok knew these games just as well as Jimin did, it seemed. 

Ah, it really was unfair that he loved them, thrived in them. In the thrill of winning, in the thrill of the hunt. Especially when something as pretty as you is standing as the prize.

After you had finally managed to usher the mutt– Jimin– inside the house, he knew it was his job to make sure Jimin knew his place. What kind of alpha would he be, otherwise? 

You had let out a squeak, entirely unaware of the competition already set in stone between the two as Hoseok pulled you into a hug, nuzzling into your neck as his eyes remained on the golden retriever. That same smirk stayed in place as he gave a simple lick to your neck. Something that could so easily be taken as innocent, a nice greeting from the doberman hybrid anything but as an all too familiar chill travelled down your spine at the feeling. 

You knew what it meant.

Hoseok knew what it meant. 

Jimin, fuck, obviously knew what it implied. 

Hoseok wanted to keel over and laugh at the restraint Jimin held while his owner (Martha, Maryanne, he couldn’t remember her name right now) cooed over the golden retriever hybrid. At the way the Jimin’s ears swivelled almost manically trying to catch what was said when Hoseok pressed his lips to your ear. At the pinching of Jimin’s eyes as your cheeks flushed red, all while the doberman hybrids owner straightened out his hair and talked about how adorable he was. 

The silent conversation, one you had missed entirely, between the dog hybrids was clear– Hoseok had you first. That didn’t mean Jimin wouldn’t have you last.

Oh. Hoseok knew this was going to be fun. 

Especially when you, the every clueless human, thought they would be best friends right away. You knew Jimin had been excited to make one too! You truly could not– still can’t– understand why he just has to hate him so much. 

Hoseok is practically an angel! Someone you consider yourself to be very close with, even now. He’s always so carefree and gentle with you and his owner. Always makes you laugh when you're sad, helps you clean your house when it just feels like too much. Takes you on walks at night whenever you just need to get out for a bit but don’t feel safe enough to go on your own. Hell, on particularly cold nights he would even risk sneaking out of his own house to go to yours just to help warm you up because he knows you keep the house a few degrees colder than you actually prefer.

So!! It makes no sense to you that Jimin wouldn’t like him all the same!! His outrage is completely unfounded. 

Something about territory, at least that’s what he would tell you. His quiet, under-the-breath, grumbles that are always so hard to decipher no matter how hard you try– yet are adorable regardless. Huffs and puffs that didn’t feel as upset as he truly intended whenever faced with that little pout on your lips. 

Unfortunately, their relationship only became more strained the more time Jimin spent under your care– spent with you. 

It wasn’t anything you could have predicted, honestly, but it was welcome nonetheless. As the months passed, your relationship developed into something more than what it was supposed to be. At least, more than what society would allow his stance to be in your life. 

But you had  never seen hybrids as animals, as something as simple as a pet. Jimin was never an animal– never a golden retriever even if he had ears and a tail to match. He could think, he could feel. A few animalistic traits would never change that. 

He was simply just… just Jimin. Your roommate that you care about a little too much. The one with the pretty smile and puffy cheeks that always complained about wanting more meat. 

The one that dug holes in your backyard and played with you in the hose during the summer, but growled at any man who came within a ten foot vicinity of you in public. 

The one who, despite how much he hated the man, went whining to Hoseok when you got the flu. So scared for your health, your safety after the man at the corner store kicked him out when he was trying to buy medicine for you that he tucked back his own pride and went to him of all people because he just didn’t know what could fix his human. What could make you better. 

Your roommate that you sometimes let sneak into your bed when the nights are too cold and the idea of a body pressed against yours, holding you, keeping you safe practically left you whimpering into your pillow. 

Somehow, he always heard. Like he was simply sitting outside your door. Waiting to hear that betrayed little sound of your lips and the soft call of his name. 

Neither of you could stop the feelings from developing, and while the true stature behind your relationship had never been spoken out loud or defined, you both knew something was there. You would never deny it.

But Jimin, poor Jimin, has always been an anxious guy. He didn’t like when you took too long in the shower without him, or when you would have to leave for work during the day. A scenting frenzy would occur the second you stepped through the door, making you promise to never leave him like that again because he simply could not live without you by his side.

And that is exactly why Park Jimin could never know that before he came into your life, you harboured the same feelings for Jung Hoseok, lest you actually want the golden to rip his face off. 

Jimin could never know of those stolen memories you had with the doberman hybrid when he would sneak away from his owner. Could never know of the stolen kisses, the soft touches. The almost-claiming bites he would press into your neck when you were fast asleep, completely unaware of the danger that lurked behind Hosoek’s sun. 

The fact that Jimin’s knot wasn’t the first you had ever taken– nor could he ever know about what occurred when you were sitting Hoseok for Miss Oswald 3 months before Jimin had come into your care. How you had helped him through his rut. How you found yourself unable to say no to him every time after. 

No, he could never know about any of it. 

You had already caught Jimin looking at Zillow one too many mornings. No more than a simple ‘goodmorning’ from Hoseok setting him off when you two coincidentally met at the conjoined mailbox. 

He said the mutt– doberman, you would correct– was plotting, you told him it was a simple coincidence. It was a repeated pattern over and over again. Only recently did you convince him to stop leaving printed out pictures of houses for sale all over the building. 

Yeah, Jimin can’t know. You would do anything in your power to keep it that way. 

Ah, it’s unfortunate for you that he already does. 

Did from that very first meeting when that stupid dog tried to mark you as his right in front of him. Tried to call you his bitch without formally saying the words out loud. The audacity! And you just– you let him when you’re his and not his! You know?! Uhg, whatever, as if you would be Hoseoks’ for long. 

Funny. As if.

“I told her last week we could help today, Min! You agreed then!” You whine in return, crossing your arms over your chest, mimicking his childishly defiant stance. 

“Well I didn't know he was going to be there!” The low grumbles he let out almost made you want to coo. Jimin has never been much of a fighter, but the grumbles he always let out made your belly flutter up. 

You can’t help but roll your eyes, “Where else would he be, exactly?” 

He opens his mouth to respond, a cocky expression taking over his face, but you stop him with a sharp pinch of a glare, your head jutting out slightly as if to test him, “And don’t you dare say ‘the pound’.”

He visibly deflates, his foot kicking at nonexistent dirt on the ground as his throat lets out a series of little grumbles. Tail wagging slowly behind him as he contemplates his next action. 

Before you give him the chance to, you’re already turning to leave. Grabbing your bag off of the couch with a little ‘humph’ of your own, leaving him to flounder after you as you make, well, try to make your way to the door. Arms already securing around your midsection as he stumbles to keep up, a high pitched whine leaving his throat as you try to make your way towards his biggest threat. 

“W-wait!” His voice is nothing more than a yip as he secures you in place, head nuzzling its way into your neck. Nose rubbing back and forth against the underside of your jaw, trying to soak his scent deeper into your skin like you aren’t covered in it already. 

But he needs to be sure. Needs to make sure Hoseok is sure, too. 

“Are you sure we can’t just stay home?” His voice is sad now, a whimper as his tail curls itself around one of your legs. His hands firm and insistent in their claim over you. His rubbing not ceasing for a second, your neck practically raw from the attention he’s been giving it all morning. 

He doesn’t care. It’s not enough. 

It never is unless it’s your cunt stuffed full of him. Only then can he be positive other hybrids won’t try to stake their claim over you. Stake their claim over what is rightfully his just because he said so.

A sigh is all that can be heard from below his hunched posture, one of your hands coming up to rub at his pinned-back ear, “Minnie… I already told you we gotta go… Miss Oswald said she needs help and I’m not going back on a promise. I can go without you if you–” 

“No!” His denial is sharp, high pitched as he somehow tucks you closer. Encases your entire being in the expanse of his chest. It’s only times like these that he remembers how small you feel against him. Or maybe just how much space you can take up in his mind, in his very being. 

Everything in him screams to not let you go. Everything in him, both raw and fresh, curling around his brain screaming at him to do anything in his power to keep you from going out that door. To keep you from leaving him to go see that mutt. 

Sure, his inner hybrid normally screams at him like this whenever you have to go anywhere. He doesn’t like you leaving his sight– in fact, it physically pains him to do so. Makes him pace around in his head and outloud, biting on his nails until he knows you are back to him and safe. His. 

He just needs a little more time and he’s sure you’ll feel the same way, too. In fact, he knows it. To him, you’re already his mate. So why couldn’t you just let that dumb dog go. 

It pisses him off to no end, honestly. Especially the fact you can’t see what he’s doing to you. Trying to control you. To make you think of him and only him and not the hybrid you’re meant to be with. 

You’re meant to be with Jimin. He’s sure of it. 

So it really doesn’t matter if he does the same. If he effortlessly makes you more reliant on him. If he keeps you dependent on his affection and care. If he slowly weaves himself into the fabric of how you think every single day because you’re meant to be with him. Not Hoseok. 

You took him off the streets. You’re his guardian angel. Not Hoseoks. Hoseok was simply… convenient, probably.

Stupid mutt. 

He needs to show him how much you mean to each other. How important he is to you. 

His eyes light up as an idea floats its way to the front. One that has his inner hybrid howling, his tail wagging, and his cock already growing half hard in his pants. 

“I’ll…” He grumbles softly, so soft you can hardly hear him over the racing of your heart. His fingers almost childishly pulling at the bottom of your shirt, thumbs jutting out to rub against the skin of your tummy softly. Just little temperamental circles, nothing more, nothing less. “I’ll come…” 

He feels the stiffness in your form, clearly still poised and ready for an argument, visibly deflate from your shoulders as you relax against his chest. One of your hands softly coming up to lace your fingers through his own. Your voice utters out a simple, “Thank you, Min.” while your thumb reaches to stroke over his knuckles. 

Soft. Gentle. Caring. 

He lets out another long, drawn out whine. His hips pressing closer, his cock rubbing against your barely covered ass. 

Why did you have to wear a skirt today? It’s another question on his long list of complaints. One he doubts he’ll ever have an answer to other than the notion that you want to be slutted out to the older hybrid. That you want his cock buried in your cunt instead of the man holding you now. 

Whatever. It won’t be Hoseok’s cum dribbling down your thighs anyway. 

You gasp at the contact– at the hardness you certainly feel against the plush of your cheeks, “J-Jimin–” But before you’re even able to get out his full name, you’re already being flipped around. The entire room spinning as you’re pressed back against the couch, a mop of blonde finding itself between your tits as you gasp once again. Attempting to recuperate– to consolidate your once standing form now laying back against the couch, thighs spread as his body makes space between them. 

His entire weight rests against you as his head shakes in your cleavage, the pressure making it more difficult to breathe. His breath keening, whimpers leaving his lips as his hips struggle, grinding themselves against the plush of the couch. 

“You like him more than me, don’t you?” Jimin starts his sad, floppy dog act once again. The one that he knows tugs against your heart strings, the one that makes it easier to get what he wants from you. Makes you forget about the hand moving up your thigh, the heat of his breath against your cleavage. 

“Wh-what?” You quickly breath out, hand that was reaching down to stop his pursuit freezing midair. Brow pinching in confusion as you try to calm the heat rushing to your cheeks, “No I don’t. What are you talking about?”

He only whimpers again. Taking the moment of hesitation to lace his free hand with your own. Pinning you without you realising it fully– not yet, anyways. 

“I-I just…” He mopes, pushing your skirt up and over your hips. Panty clad cunt now directly pressed against his lower stomach. The subtle, continuous grind of his hips into the couch cushion causing your hips to rock along with him the same. Moisture gathering against your core as he makes you grind against his pelvis. 

“He’s always so territorial over you…” He can’t stop the bite in his tone, the little growl at even the mention of the other male right now, “Doesn’t understand that you’re my bitch.” 

It takes a second for you to catch up– it always does when he throws too much at you at the same time. But as soon as you process the fabric of your underwear rubbing against your clit, you soon recognise the ‘bitch’ in his words, no matter how affectionate he always meant it, “Jimin!” 

He whines at the mild scolding tone in your voice, letting his ears droop. Letting his tail brush gently against your ankles as he wags it low, submissive. Making him seem even more pathetic than he already is, “It’s true… he’s always all over you. Scenting you. Trying to take you from me…” 

“Please… I just need to make you smell like me so he knows…” It’s heavy in his tone still, that same grating whimper that has you wanting to sell your soul and give it to him. “Let me cum inside? Please?” 

“J-Jimin…” The hesitation is clear in your voice, yet so is the sticky trail of arousal coating his abs. His shirt slowly being pushed upwards along with his grinds, your panties doing nothing to stop the spread of your arousal as he mewls against the couch, “I don’t– there’s no time and I don't want to be late–” 

This time, it’s his gaze that cuts you off. The tilt of his head upwards, eyes brimmed with glassy tears threatening to fall while his cheeks remain flushed pink. His lips parted, saliva collecting at the edges just like he always gets when he’s far too wound up for reason. 

You know his act well enough at this point, at least you should. 

Knew those puppy-dog eyes he now sends your way, making your heart shrink in on itself. Knew the keening of his throat that always made him seem just so pathetic. Make you just want to give in to anything he wanted with a simple flop of his ears and simpering wag of his tail. 

Let him do what he wanted, more so. Because the second you gave in? The second you’d look away shyly and agree to whatever he was acting? A switch would flip behind Jimin’s soft brown eyes. A switch that wouldn’t return to its upright position until he was well and done with you.  

That cute, pathetic little dog boy who was just preening for your approval would turn into a wicked thing. Would tread you like a rag doll, like his bitch in heat. Would take you until his cock wouldn’t let him anymore– until he was sure you were knotted up well. Sat pretty on his cock, claiming you the best that he could without biting your neck directly. 

You knew his act well, and yet you let him get away with it every single time. 

Even when he works himself up past the brink of sanity, forgetting to ask your permission time and time again to start. 

Thankfully, Jimin knew how to beg for forgiveness, too. 

Cute and sweet when he just couldn’t wait anymore. When he just had to bend you over while you cooked, when he couldn’t wait until you woke up to start licking at your cunt because you just smelled too good. That whine in his voice that had you shushing him instantly, petting at his hair through sleepy mumbles, telling him that it was okay.

Spreading your legs just a bit farther with the press of his hands, opening you up even wider. Licking you clean until you were red and sore and pushing his head away. Only then would he ask for one more, encourage you– make sure you knew you could do it. 

You let him get away with too much– you even admit that now as his teeth nip at the top of your breast. At the skin spilling over the top of your shirt while one of his hands finds its way between your bodies, pressing against your pelvis. Giving just a little bit of pressure to your empty core, making you more aware of it than you ever have been before. 

You were no match against him. He knew it too. Knew you like the back of his hand, just like a good alpha should. 

“C’mon… C’mon please…” His voice whimpers, head taken back to pressing between your tits. His face pressed between them, shaking his head as if it would will you to not let him go. To just let you give in and give him whatever he wants. “Just the tip… just let me put the tip in so I can cum…”

His hand slips lower, curling under the hem of your panties. Slowly pressing his fingertips against your folds, not giving you any chance to think. To pull away. The pads of his fingers gliding against your slick, whimpers of your own leaving your lips. 

He dips two fingers shallowly into your hole, collecting your arousal on his fingertips before he brings them higher. Presses down against your clit as you kick your hips. As your body urges him closer even if your mind still attempts to remain strong against his advances. 

 “Promise… Promise just the tip– please just let me. Please!” He’s getting impatient, you both know it as those same fingers slip lower. As his ring finger is the first to push itself inside of your leaking hole. Curling as it begins its slow pumps inside, pulling you closer, urging you deeper to just agree so he can make sure Hoseok knows his place. 

He was like an angel in carnate, even when he uttered such sinful words that has your cunt clenching around him. Pulling the digit deeper as it adjusts to the slow stretch of his finger. As your hips squirm when he presses his thumb against your clit once more, urging it to let him through as he slowly works his middle finger in alongside the other. 

Has you wanting to let him sink his cock inside your heat like it belonged there, like it was never meant to leave the safe haven that was your folds. 

“I don’t know…” You hesitate, hardly gasping for air as your spine curls, pressing your body closer to him. His efforts finally successful as he manages to stuff a second finger inside, stretching you. Scissoring your core. Making sure you’re ready to take him because the both of you know you’re already slipping. He doesn’t even really know why you’re still fighting with your cunt clinging to him so tightly, begging for him. “I won’t– I won’t have time to change or shower a-and–” 

You try excuses, but they do little to sway him. You don’t even believe the words uttered from your lips as he pulls his hand from your cunt, his back-brain telling him you’re stretched enough. That it’s okay if it hurts just a little. Meanwhile your hands are reaching blindly for his wrist, doing everything in their power to keep his fingers tucked inside without your permission. 

If he was in his right mind more, if his head wasn’t so far into outterspace from the idea of fucking you, he may have reacted more to the cute display. Though he has a mission. A single prerogative on his mind as he frame pulls back just enough to tug your panties from your hips. Pull the material down your thighs until it’s far past your ankles. Thrown into some odd corner of the room. 

Nope, instead there's nothing more than another high whine in his throat, his strong hands pressing your thighs open further. Palms melting into your soft skin as he takes his rightful place over you. This bulge practically omnipotent as it strains against his pants. 

“Please, please, please, please, please.” He begs like it’s a prayer, his tail whipping back and forth behind him in anticipation. Drool at the sight of you, the smell of you consuming him from the inside out as he stares at your splayed form. At your bunched up skirt, at your puffy, dripping cunt. “Just let me, I promise I’ll be good. I promise.” 

He’s getting too excited now. He knows it. You know it. But neither of you do a single thing to stop it. You simply can’t when he’s wound this high with adrenaline. When he’s a bit more animal than human, moving off of pure instinct. Off of the drive to consume you whole. When you both get so foggy in the head that you know you can’t say no. 

Slowly, you roll your head to the side, baring your neck at him. Your final act of submission as you let Jimin take the reins before he just gets too excited that even he doesn’t know what to do with himself. Voice quiet as you mumble out your concession to the standoff. “Y-you have to be quick.” 

A loud whine rings throughout the air, though this time in pure, unadulterated relief. His hands already working on his button and zipper, shoving his boxers down just low enough to free his swollen, straining cock. “Thank you, thank you.” 

He’s whimpering again as he hand wraps around his length, fist tight around the base, right where his knot would swell up. A pained groan as he squeezes himself, as you watch dribbles of pre-cum leak from his pink tip. 

“Gonna fill you up– make you, make you leak all pretty. He’ll smell my cum on you.” He struggles out, voice high and fervent as his stare flicks between the state of your cunt and your neck still to the side. Still obeying his stake, his claim on your very being. “Know you’re mine. Everyone will. Cause you are. Mine. Filled with my cum. My scent.” 

My pups. He wants to add, but he still has to wait for your heat to get that. Human’s heats seem to take forever to come. 

Your breath hitches when he finally releases his cock, when he finally lowers his frame over top of yours. His hips slowly dragging himself over the crest of your pelvis, pulling back just far enough to drag the tip of himself over your clit. Smear his cum against your skin, marking you. Keeping you. 

His cock feels so heavy against you. So thick and daunting no matter how many times you’ve taken it before. The length too pretty to be fair, nice and straight and flushed as it feels like stone against you. Red hot pressure against your cunt as he taunts you with it. Slides it down to your hole, notching himself right against your as your entrance flutters. Cunt begging, screaming for him to just thrust it inside. Fuck you fully until your lungs breathe in nothing but his air. 

“Just the tip.” You force out, your eyes trained on the scene between your thighs. Tone light, airy as a spring breeze as you attempt to keep yourself focused. In the moment. To make sure he doesn’t go too far and you’re not even more late for your gardening appointment than you already know you’re going to be. 

“Just the– tip.” He nods his head fervently, agreeing as his gaze is locked on the same sight as you. As he hovers on the precipice, a thrust away from penetrating. Cute little pink walls fluttering around barely any of him. Watching as your entrance attempts to stretch to accommodate for him, as your thighs shake with something greater than need for him to finally snap the band and let himself inside. 

“Promise. Promise just the tip. I’ll be good– promise.” His promises are as fine as sand, but you’re too cloudy to even realise it, “‘M gonna be fast, promise. Just need to cum in you. Won’t even knot.”

But even if you wanted to argue, to keep him in check, every piece of sanity you have remaining slips away the second Jimin bullies the first inch of his cock inside of your cunt. Your moans filling the air in tandem as Jimin finally feels whole again, the last bit of his soul re-entering his body whenever he gets to fill you up like this. 

“G-Good.” He stutters out, hips unable to stop and give you a moment to adjust as they already begin their thrusts. The first few inches of his cock battering your wall as he fucks ‘just the tip’ inside. “Good mate. Good. So good for me, my perfect human. Mine.” 

His head leans down, face tucking itself in your neck as he licks at your skin. Unable to stop himself from mouthing right between your neck and shoulder. Teeth scraping against the skin as you’re all but pliant to him. Fists grabbing at the back of his shirt, trying to pull him closer before pushing him away. His entire being surrounding you, all of his weight pressing into each shallow thrust. 

You feel even more out of breath than before with his weight against your chest. His hands kneading your thighs as he holds them down, makes sure they remain open for him as he gets lost in your heat.

“‘S-s’ good!” You manage to slur, though aren’t sure if your voice sounds like words or nothing more than sounds. “Min– c’mon– quick.” 

“Just the tip.” He repeats to himself like it’s a reminder. Though it doesn’t stop him from pressing in deeper with every thrust. Just a little bit every time. A little bit more and more and more. 

Fucking you open slowly, until you forget all about his promise of it just being the tip. Pushing himself inside, using his muscular hips to his advantage as he breaks you open slowly. His cock fighting where his fingers couldn’t fit, trying to remind himself to train you to take him properly so the stretch doesn’t hurt so much every time. Until half of his length has already disappeared inside of your core. 

“Promise. Promise just the tip.” Or maybe he himself doesn’t know what ‘just the tip’ is anymore, maybe he doesn’t even know where you end and he begins. “Fill you up. Make you full.” 

He groans loud when he finally bottoms out, when he gives up convincing your body slowly and just forces himself all the way inside. The other half of his cock making home inside of your heat, the skin where his knot wants to inflate practically burning with the need to cum. 

Your thighs attempt to close against his grasp, though they are forced to remain in place. Your breath hitching as you gasp, head twisting, hands twitching as you suddenly feel so full. Body attempting to do anything to pull away, to move closer, to do anything against the frame that rocks into you. To get away from the stretch, to pull him closer to fuck it away.

“Min, Min–” You repeat his name, feeling more of his saliva on your neck as he continues to work against it. Leaves love bites where he much rather place a mating mark instead, “Move, gotta move. Please.” 

You’re keening, writhing underneath of him when he finally starts the withdrawal of his hips. No more than a couple inches as he pulls back, rutting forward again with a new kind of need he hadn’t held before. His breath coming out in short, rough pants as he works his hips as quickly as he can. Refusing himself the reprieve of pulling out more than he is. 

He wants to be consumed by you entirely. Wants you to feel him cum deep. Wants to drip out of you for days. 

“Close.” He half-whines, half groans against the column of your throat, seemingly entranced by it. His hips, his desperation working you closer and closer to the edge. Feeling that band in your lower belly tighten up whenever he presses his full weight against your core, whenever you feel the brush of his cock against the too-sensitive spot inside of you. The one that has your walls clinging to him like the world depends on it. 

He finally pulls away from your neck, one of his arms propping next to your head as he takes the chance to look down at you. As you finally get the chance to look up at him– to see the fuzzy, almost manic look in his eyes. See the blushed out from of his parted lips, the too-sharp canines that reside right behind them. 

“Good human.” He swallows, mouth still salivating from the combined scents of arousal in the air, “Gonna–” He pauses, grunting as he attempts to steady his thrusts again, resuming an actual pace rather than just helplessly rutting into your core, “Gonna fill you up. Make him smell me on you.” 

He groans at the mere thought, the look on Hoseok’s face when the older hybrid catches a whiff of him on you. The claim he places right in your cunt, making sure he knows to stay out of it. Makes sure he knows who was there first if he tries to pull you away like he always does.

His hips get sloppy again, imagining Hoseok’s face pissed as he sneaks his hand between your thighs. As he gets the picture of feeding Hoseok his cum right from your center. 

You’re Jimin’s bitch. 

Thankfully, you’re too far gone to care. Barely hanging on by a thread as your head rolls back against the arm rest of the couch, nails digging into Jimin’s shirt as your walls clamp around him. Falling over the edge at a perfectly angled thrust, a loud moan of his name as your entire body ceases around him.

The leg he isn’t holding down manages to cling around him, your fingernails biting into his back as you press yourself as close to him as you can. Your spine shuttering as it releases waves of flutters down your entire body. Walls clenching, toes curling in a pattern that calls to the most base instincts of the man still fucking into you. His knot catching on your entrance with every thrust as it slowly starts to inflate, slowly tries to keep him locked inside. 

You’re burying your face in his neck, chanting words even you can’t decipher as your teeth scrape against his skin. Words foreign, lost on your tongue as you let him use you for his own release, slow shutters following you with every stretch at the base. 

“Fuck! Fuck, mate– Good mate, Mine.” He’s groaning, entirely lost himself, “Gonna– gonna make him eat it from you. Gonna watch you drip all over the garden, make him know you’re bred. Bred so good.” 

He’s gasping as he finally pulls back before his knot expands to its fullest, before he lets it trap him in your heat. Intent on keeping at least one of his promises it seems. His cum pumping out in thick waves as it coats your walls. As it fills you more than you expect it to every time. 

He manages to pull back from your death grip once the first few waves of his release dives down. His body withdrawing, hand coming to rap around his sore, inflated knot. Squeezing it as the remainder of his cock continues to leak weak spurts of cum inside of your walls. His mind dizzy with what to do to make it stick. 

He watches in awe as he presses his hips forward, oversensitivity taking over both of you as he pushes as much of his cock inside as he can, fist still firmly squeezing around his knot. Feeling the way some of his cum is pressed deeper inside, watching the way your hips wiggle to get away from the onslaught, but continuing the press and withdraw a few more times until it's too much for even him to take. His spine tingling, a confused simper leaving his lips when your hands come down to press at his hip bones, urging him to stop. 

It takes you a few more seconds to recover, trying to urge your breathing into something more standard as your eyes pinched closed, forcing your brain back from the clouds into reality. Trying to recover even though you want to do nothing more than take a nap, maybe climb into a warm bath. 

However, in the few seconds you attempt to take to recover, Jimin already seems to have other ideas. With a whine drawn from your lips, he pulls out of you, quickly replacing his cock with as many fingers as your walls will allow. Your eyes peeking open to see what he’s doing. Watching as his frame as it awkwardly shuffles down the length of the couch– the hand around his knot and the hand in your cunt making it more difficult than necessary. 

Your face pales at what he does next, yet somehow burning ten shades warmer at the same time. Your jaw dropping open, your eyes splitting open wide as he removes his fingers, buries his nose in your cunt, and inhales. 

Smells you.

“Jimin!!” You squeal, knees kicking up, feet already pressing against his shoulders. Ready to tell him off, ignoring the feeling of his cum slipping down your cheeks, no longer having anything to hold it inside. 

But before you can get a word in, he’s raising his head up. The most innocent smile on his face, his eyes aglow with happiness, “You smell like me now.” 

You freeze, stuttering. Unsure what to do as you open and close your mouth like a fish. Completely floundering between the shifts in his demeanour and the fact he just smelled your cunt! 

“You’re… You’re ridiculous.” Is all you can manage to say, feet still against his shoulders watching him with wide eyes. 

Well, that is until you catch sight of your phone vibrating against the floor, having fallen somewhere during your descent onto the couch earlier. A call from Hoseok ringing, dying out before you even have the chance to reach for it. Your lockscreen– a picture of Jimin, Hoseok, and you– coming into view. A time of 3:58 staring at your face, along with 5 missed calls from the doberman right against your notification center.  

Now, you flounder for an entirely different reason, your body moving before your mind as it rolls– well, falls, really– off of the couch. Cussing, crouching as you pick up your phone, double checking the time once again before shooting a glance over your shoulder at Jimin.

Half an hour late. 

“Shit shit shit shit shit,” You mumble to yourself, standing as you scramble towards the mirror by the front door. Attempting to fix your hair while Jimin just stares at you, thinking about how you’re the cutest thing in the world. Watching the little dribbles of white against your thigh as they leak from your cunt. 

He leisurely fixes himself up as well, settling on the fact he’s just gonna have to be uncomfortable with his knot in his pants until it releases fully. Shouldn’t take as long as normal, especially ‘cause it’s not buried inside of you. Watches happily, tail wagging as you scramble around the room. 

“Underwear!” You urge, maybe ask into the air. You’re already half an hour late. You hate being late. It sends your anxiety running high and makes everything around you spin. “Where did you put my underwear??” 

He hums, wrapping his arms around you from behind. Propping his head on your shoulder. Your thighs continuing to shake even though you force them to move– he’ll give you a massage later. “Don’t wear any.” 

He says the phrase like it's the simplest solution in the world– like it doesn’t have your mouth gawking at the idea of not wearing anything under your skirt in front of your neighbour, in front of Hoseok. 

He’ll definitely know. You won’t be able to hide it from him. Not even in the slightest. 

But as your phone rings again, Hoseok’s smiling face settling in as a backdrop, you pale. Your thumb shaking as it slowly answers. 

“H-Hoseok! Hey!” You try to sound cheery, but Jimin lets out a quiet giggle. His hand already on your lower back while he guides you to the door, humming. Scooping up your purse in the process. 

“(Y/n)?! Are you okay?” The concern in his voice is palpable, and you feel your heart cracking. 

“Yeah! Yeah, I’m fine! I just– I lost track of time.” The excuse is flimsy, all three of you know it. Hoseok makes a sound, considering on the other end of the line. God, you can only imagine his face right now. Even the mere idea of it sends a shutter down your spine.

“Right.” He guffs, “Get here soon then. We don’t want to waste the rest of the daylight.”

“Of course!” You quickly agree, nodding your head even though he can’t see it. Your brain already craving his praise rather than the subtle dismissal in his voice, “We’re already out the door! I promise!”

“Mm. I see you.” You tilt your head up, spotting his stare from Miss Oswald’s front door. His frame leaning against the frame, filling it out. Phone lowering from his ear as he ends the call. Arms crossing in front of his chest, his stare pinning you in place. Practically radiating authority. Radiating the urge to command, to dominate. 

You swallow. Between Jimin humming behind you, and the impenetrable stare of Hoseok in front, you feel like a cat before a hurricane. Unknowing of what is coming, only that something is. 

Looks like you aren’t wearing any underwear after all. 

An hour had ticked by.

A full hour of dealing with– with whatever this was. Hoseok acted completely normal, all smiley and bright while he helped his owner. While Jimin, your sweet, conniving Jimin, acted as if nothing was wrong. 

Both of them acted like nothing was wrong, like they couldn’t smell the sin on your skin. 

Both of them just happily chatting away in the flowerbeds like they actually liked each other. Like the too sharp smiles they sent each other's way meant nothing instead of a test of patience. Jimin smiling bright as he tilted his head back, laughing along with the sun still planted high in the sky. 

It was as if his personality had switched. Jimin, your Jimin, who normally grumbled the entire time at your neighbours’, was the perfect angel. Hoseok did much of the same. Acting like he wasn’t staring at you from the doorway an hour earlier, an all too familiar gaze locked on target while you wobbled like bambi over to him. 

It was scarier than anything else, honestly. Having the man act like nothing had occurred. Like everything was all sunshine and rainbows when you knew you were in for some sort of trouble the moment you walked through his threshold. Watched him bristle while a too-wide smile crossed his lips. 

It’s a rather horrible thing, the way he slowly made you relax. His sunshine demeanour slowly coaxing you into believing he wasn’t really upset. Like you weren’t really in trouble in the slightest. Like everything was fine and he totally hadn’t noticed the knot still straining in Jimin’s pants or the afterglow of sex still radiating from your skin. 

Like he hadn’t been analysing you from under the guise of kindness and sincerity. Trying to figure out if you had really just come into his territory with a waddle in your step and the scent of cum between your legs. 

Really, you were an auspicious thing, if nothing else. 

Coming into his home, when you were his mate. That you were his bitch. His pup. Whatever you wanted to call it, it didn’t matter. Even if he hadn’t properly confessed to you yet, he knew you both were aware of what you were.

Looks like both of his pups needed more training. He would give it to you. Make sure both of you knew your places in his pack after he got the old broad that adopted him out of the picture. 

It was always his plan, anyway. To get rid of her. The moment he first laid eyes on you he knew you were actually the one he was supposed to live with. To take care of. On paper, you would be his owner, of course. But he hoped his late night visits to your room would have convinced you by now of who was truly the owner in this scenario. 

Eventually, sooner rather than later he would have finally convinced his owner to move down to Florida for retirement just as she always dreamed about. Eventually, no matter what he had to do, he would find himself under your roof. With you everyday.

Sure, Jimin had thrown a wrench in those plans at first– well, really just made everything take a little bit longer. Made him laugh when the younger dog thought he could manage to extricate Hoseok from your life when you were so carnally intertwined. 

At first, he thought about getting rid of Jimin, too. But you just seemed so fond of the blonde boy, he couldn’t find it in himself. Maybe he thought he was a little cute too– always acting dominant. Pretending he could be in the face of someone like him. 

It was cute. And Hoseok likes cute. Makes him want to put the golden retriever in his place. 

Show him how to actually take care of a human like yourself. 

In the end, the decision was made for him in letting you keep your plaything was a simple one. He just knew the responsibility of training that brat would fall onto his shoulders. Knew he needed to teach him some fucking respect for the little stunt he pulled today. 

Ah, maybe it’s not your fault. Not really. You’re just a dumb puppy, aren’t you? Can’t help but spread your legs from the mutt when he does nothing more than gives you a simple beg. It’s Jimin’s fault, just like it always is. He can’t really blame you for anything, not ever. You’re his good, sweet girl. 

Jimin is the mutt.

He guesses it can’t really be helped. That both of his pets will need to learn to follow their alpha better. 

At least now he gets to watch you try to look cute. To try and be coy about the cum that still threatens to leak from you– despite your run to the bathroom the second you got to his house. He assumed you were in there, trying desperately to mop up the mess between your thighs. If Jimin was good for anything, at least it was that. He knows how to fill you up well. Keep it in deep in an attempt to mark his territory. 

He sighs, resolved. Though it sounds more like it’s in relief just at the sight of you. Muscular thighs rising himself from his squatted position when he watches you move over to their little group in the flowerbeds, too precarious as you carry a tray of lemonade over to the two individuals enthralled in the job of playing in the dirt. 

Another day Hoseok would have joined them, but another day Hoseok also wouldn’t have to show her dumb puppy her place. He didn’t want to get his hands dirty, anyway. He was having more fun watching you. 

As he stalks over to your form, he watches you bend over without thinking. Handing both his owner and Jimin a glass, not even considering your skirt raising along with you. At your folds now exposed to the air– exposed to his gaze directly.

It's hard for him to bite back the growl in his throat, though he finds it a lot easier to when he stands behind you. Making sure you’re covered from prying eyes. Looming over you like the decision has already been made for your fate.

It has been. But at least he’ll go easy on you. You don’t deserve the punishment, anyway. Jimin does. And the first step of that correction will be making sure you don’t leave this yard before taking Hoseok’s knot like the good little bitch you are. 

He watches as you rise, startling when you feel his presence over you. The hard planes of his form right up against your back, spooking you. You feel nice against him. So cute and small. His teeth itch for the day that they’ll get to sink into your neck formally, the gentle trace of his tongue over them doing nothing to settle the urge. 

“Ah!” Your quiet shout before you turn your head, pinching your glare up at him makes him want to coo. To wrap his collar around your neck and make you whimper, “Hoseok!” 

He smiles down at you, giving a soft laugh as he pats your head, “Boo.” 

“Not nice!” You whine slightly, scolding again. Turning around, poking a single finger against his chest like that would actually do anything. He’s sure whenever you scold Jimin, the boy would be whimpering already. Clinging to your legs for no reason at all other than never wanting you to be mad at him ever. 

He wants to roll his eyes at the thought, hazard a glance at the other dog now that your attention is residing solely on Hoseok’s shoulders. But he doesn’t. Not when he much rather keep his focus on you. 

“Sorry.” One of his large hands reaches up to wrap around your wrist, the apology thin as air as he dismisses it immediately, “I need help with something inside. Follow me.” 

“Oh–” You look behind yourself quickly, spotting Jimin chatting casually away with Miss Oswald. Twisting your head back around to look at Hoseok, take in his unarmed expression. Nothing seems to be off, even if your gut tells you otherwise. 

“Yeah! Of course.” You make a vague gesture to the tray under your arm,  “I need to put this away, anyway.” 

He only hums, a pretty note leaving his lips as he turns the other direction. Your feet following as he tugs you along with him. Long skinny tail wagging as his ears stay pitched up due to their unfortunate docking done by Miss Oswald when he was a pup and she didn’t know any better. The fluffy things moving back and forth to detect any sound.

Butterflies are already tumbling around in your guts at the sight of his back. The muscle that you know sits pretty right underneath the skin, always managing to make you feel like a school girl vying for his attention. 

Though, if you really consider it, everything about Hoseok makes you feel that way. His calm, yet assertive actions. The way he tucks you behind him whenever he feels like there may be danger around. The sturdy way he holds your hand, your wrist whenever you two walk together. The way he laughs whenever you do something embarrassing. The crinkle by his eye whenever he wants you to know he’s safe. 

Too caught up in all the considerations of Hoseok, you don’t even notice when he veers you off course. When he makes a sharp left away from the back door, instead tugging you to the side of the house. The thin alleyway between the sidewall and the fence, only slightly obscured from view thanks to a vine covered free standing trellis. 

Your head tilts as you look up at his back. His tail freezing in place, even though his entire frame remains relaxed. Carefree. The subtle squeeze tighter on your wrist finally prompting you to speak. 

“Hobi? What are–” Before you can finish the thought, your back is already pressed against the wall. The tray, once safely seated under your arm, falling to the ground. The clatter too muffled to hear farther out in the yard. Your gasp going unnoticed to the people farther out all the same.

Still, he doesn’t respond. His expression having fallen into an almost bored thing. His smile fallen, eyes simply watching. Waiting. 

Entirely unconcerned as he places his hands on your hips, thumb moving down to catch the hem of your skirt. Pulling it up, bunching it around your midsection. 

“Hoseok!” You’re already squealing, your hands coming down to the front of the material, attempting to pull it back down. To cover yourself, “S-stop! I’m not wearing any–” 

In your frantic movements, you miss the slip of his hand between your thighs. Only startled from your hasty dismissals by the feeling of his thumb between your lips, slipping down from your clit til it rests at the rim of your hole, delicately tracing it like he has all the time in the world. 

As far as he’s concerned, he does. 

“I know.” His eyes are cold as they watch you, as they pin you down in place, “Think you could come over without me knowing, pup?”

“I-I–” You aren’t sure what to say, not really. Your mind already spinning as you try to process the quick changes in direction. As you try to consolidate the friendly, carefree Hoseok– the one who didn’t seem upset in the slightest– to the one now that spreads Jimin's cum, along with your quickly accumulating slick around between your folds. 

“Wh-What are you–” The question is cut off again, unable to get a single word in between his jarring movements and voice. Your head spinning as you try to catch up, though unable to truly find a place. 

Does he seriously want to fuck you right here?! In the backyard?! 

“I think you know.” He hums, his finger slipping from your folds, instead moving down your thigh. Slowly sliding under your leg, raising it. Hitching it up to give him all the access he needs. 

“I-I– No– W-We can’t!” With his other hand, he gathers both of your wrists in one. Unconcerned with your fighting. With your wiggling and your hushed tone of voice. Doing nothing more than sending a pointed glare down at you, one that makes you feel small. Like you’re doing something you’re not supposed to.

“But we are.” He guides your hands down to the hem of your skirt, urging you to grab hold of the material and lift it up. “You’ll hold this for me, won’t you pup?” Though he asks, it sounds more like a question than a demand. 

Instantly, your body betrays you and complies. Like it's already been trained despite your brain's pre-disposed hesitance. Fingers grasping the material, slowly allowing him to slide it up until you’re hitching the material high. Cunt spread out for him, just for his viewing pleasure. 

“H-Hobi– J-Jimin–” You try to explain urgently, looking up at him with insistence though it seems like his own graze is trained between your legs. At the pink, puffy cunt that wasn’t treated with the proper aftercare you deserve. Wasn’t licked clean with anything to keep the cum inside of you, was just left pretty and used. 

“Jimin what?” 

“H-He doesn’t like it when we d-do this– w-we should– mm!” He pinches your thigh, a pinned glare raising to your face before it drops, returns back to that same simple face it seems he’s taken to wearing. 

“You’re really worried about him right now?” He sighs, his fingers releasing your wrist as they travel down to his pants. As they tug his zipper down, shove the material down with a lazy insistence. “I think you should be more worried about me. Maybe about you.” 

One final tug and he manages to get his jeans below his cock. Dark red head springing free, pretty long length practically pulsing with a need to be inside you that he’s kept locked away since you came to his door step with that shy smile on your face. 

It’s cute how you can’t help but whine at the sight of him.  Really, it is. How your lower lip drops just slightly, your cheeks flaring with an ever deeper shade. How your breath picks up every so slightly. How your hips wiggle in his grasp from the sight of him alone. Makes him want to choke you on it– too bad he doesn’t have the time right now. He’ll have to make this quick. 

At least your body knows who it belongs to.

“B-But they–” You swallow, try to control your breathing even though everything in you is screaming just to give in. “We shouldn’t, they could come over here a-and–”

“I guess you should be quiet, then.” His fist wraps around his cock, stroking over it with an appeal that has you whining. You really are no better than Jimin, are you? Just cute and dumb and begging for something to stuff you full. 

“I know you’re not good at that pup, but you’ll have to try for me, hm?” He hazards a glance up at you, tilting his head ever so slightly. 

And god do you want to give in. Do you want to get on all fours and just present yourself like he knows you want to. Just want to be good for him like he likes, like you always are for him when he comes crawling through your window and just slips himself inside with no complaints from you. 

Want to just roll over and give him everything because you never have been able to say no to either of your dogs. 

Still, no one can blame you for giving it the old college try. 

“Pl-please Hobi— I’m, I’m already sore and—“ You keep trying to make excuses, honest, you do. But Hoseok was hardly listening. “Jimin just fucked me so it’s all messy and—“

“He got you ready for me then.” He simply hums, his hand continuing to run up and down his unfairly long length. Hips canting forward on every stroke of his fist to just tease you with the presence of his head against your cunt. “Got you all stretched out to make my job a little easier. I’ll make sure to tell him he’s a good boy next time I see him.” 

“No—“ 

“Oh? You think he deserves a reward instead?” He keeps cutting you off, not letting you get a single word in. It’s infuriating. All of it is– but it’s hard to think. So hard to do anything when he finally ceases his teasing. When he finally draws his cock between your sore, cum slicked core. Fist slowly dragging himself back and forth between your folds, “I’ll let him clean my knot then. When it’s tucked nice and safe inside of you. That sound better, pup?” 

You groan in both annoyance at him and the pleasure staring to overtake you. At your legs becoming shaky, at his hand still holding you up, spreading you open. “Th-thats not what I mea–” 

“Then what do you mean?” He stops suddenly, too quickly. His cock pressing up against your hole, eyes facing you. Red swirling in his gaze, “Did you really think you could come into my territory with him all over you?” 

His hips jut forward slightly, barely stretching you yet the motion is enough to make you squirm. At the resistance fogging up your brain to ebb back, the glorious softness of submission willing your mind to let it take over instead. 

“Seriously.” He scoff, his hips slowly rocking into you, watching as your expression lulls into complacence, “I knew you were a dumb pup when you had a cock in you, but you can’t really be that stupid to think I'd let this–” He motions to your hole, pathetically fluttering around his head, “Slide.” 

He rolls his eyes as your hands reach out to press against his hip bones, fingers digging into his skin. In an attempt to draw him closer or push him back, you could hardly decipher yourself. But it seemed like he knew– he always did. He could always read you like an open book.

“Coming into my territory, letting him try to claim you like you aren’t mine.” He sinks further inside, the tip of his cock finally finding home between your pulsing walls. Stretching you ever so slightly as he sinks his weight down onto his heels.“See? I’m already inside. Took me so easy, just like that.” 

He grunts, his hips not stopping their smooth glide until he’s fucked himself all the way inside, “But we can’t, huh?” He mocks, a soft smile on his face as he curls his fingers in your hair, forcing your head to look down at where you’re fully stretched out around him. At where your cute little cunt begs for him to move. “Looks like you want to, to me.” You know he speaks, yet you can hardly hear him. Somewhere along the way– you wish you could pinpoint when– you felt cotton slowly filling your brain. Slowly floated up into the sky when he treated your body like his property rather than his own. When he treated you like his sweet toy, for him to use and for Jimin to chew on only when he allowed it. 

It had you feeling mushy inside. Had your breath speeding up into short little pants, your body unable to do anything other than follow his simple, direct command. The only kinds he knew you could take when you were in such a state. 

You certainly couldn’t focus now– not that you ever really wanted to. Not when your eyes trained between your legs. Where you could see his hips almost flush against your own, the last inch of his cock twitching as it wished to ram itself inside of you as well. 

Your nails dug deeper into his skin as you whine, little crescent moons in their place as your back arched ever so slightly. As your pupils expanded and your eyes became just a little bit too hazy. 

“Right.” He nods his head, lilt in his tone, “That’s what I thought.” 

The sigh he releases as he slowly pulls back his hips is almost euphoric. The drag of his warm length through your walls sending tingles all the way down to your toes. Your head spinning as he withdraws to the tip before rocking back inside with a lazy regard that has you wanting to yell at him.

“I shouldn’t even be doing this, you know?” He asks, though you’re not really sure if he’s expecting an answer. He surely knows you’re not able to, not when he fills you completely, when he holds your sanity in the palm of his hand, “You don’t even deserve it. Good pups don’t get cock.” 

Somewhere, the back of your brain certainly hears those words. Instantly, you’re letting out a pained whine even at the idea he would stop. Your poor little fists clambering up around his neck, drawing him closer as you tuck your face inside, “No, no.” 

You’re saying the word for an entirely different reason than before. Your walls drawing him in deeper with every slow roll of his hips, begging him not to leave you. His head rolling up against your g-spot with every single motion, little cries leaving your lips all the same.

“No?” He chaffs with a little exhale from his lungs. His entire demeanour not giving away how good he’s feeling in the slightest, leaving you to flounder in your pleasure alone, “So you’re telling me that even after you’ve been pitiful, coming to my home with a mutts cum leaking from your poor little cunt, I should let you get away with it? Really?” 

You don’t know what to say to that, really. A hazardously loud moan being the only thing able to leave your lips as he sends one particularly sharp thrust inside, the sound only muffled by the press of your lips to his throat. 

“Really? You can’t even apologise properly to your alpha?” He scoffs, his achingly slow thrusts pausing, “Fine.” 

Unable to have any time to process, to think before he’s pulling back his hips– a threat that he’s going to leave you–, you’re already blubbering. A high pitched whine along with the chase of your hips urging him to stay inside. To not leave your desperate little form. “‘M sorry! ‘M sorry! Please!” 

He pauses once again, half of his cock outside of you. The hand holding your leg high against your hip leaving little patterns across the skin for support, “For?”

“F-for– um–” You try to think, though it’s so hard. It’s always hard when Hoseok takes control like this. When it feels like he has your mind twisted around a little string, “S-sorry for l-letting Min’s cock in me b-before coming… a-and disrespecting you…” 

“Why?” Slowly, he lets his cock sink inside again, and you can’t help but let out a breath of relief.

You swallow, throat dry. Mouth opening and closing as you work for your answer. Eyes practically lighting up when you manage to come to it all on your own. Head pulling away so you can look at his face directly, “Cause I’m your bitch.” 

The smile that lights up his face makes you feel all warm inside. Has all your nerves melting in a matter of seconds now that you for sure know he isn’t mad at you, and that you know he doesn’t plan on pulling away anytime soon. 

“Good girl.” His praise sends your cunt fluttering in waves, his free hand raising up to pat your hair. Though before you can focus on it too much, his hips begin working inside you again. Bullying your cunt with the sheer length of him alone, with the skillful press of his hips, the slow grind once fully buried, on his own. 

“It’s not your fault though, is it?” His breath feels warm against your ear, his head tucking beside your own as he continues to speak. Talks you through everything just like he always does– making you feel high as a kite, but also firmly planting with him. Teetering between two worlds just like you need when your head gets too muddled up with confusing thoughts. 

“You’re just my dumb little girl. I like you a little stupid though, so that's okay.” Maybe if the circumstances were different– maybe if you hadn’t been fucked already once today– you would have argued back. Would have done something other than moan and nod your head along to whatever he had to say. “It’s Jimin's fault isn’t it? He just whines like he’s in rut and you’re too sweet to say no.” 

He nips the shell of your ear, his arm kicking your leg up slightly, resting it higher up on his forearm. Spreading you out even further for him. Making sure the pleasure-pain from the stretch and overuse combine into something for you to get drunk on. 

“It’s too much responsibility for you, isn’t it?” His tone is light again, his hand coming down between your bodies to rub at your poor, neglected clit. His thumb ribbing swift circles into the bundle, your legs wobbling as you whine, “Your cunt is.” 

Slowly, his thrusts become sharper. The lazy draw moving into powerful, precise thrusts that you can't manage to do a single thing against. Nothing other than fist at the back of his neck, let your measly claws attempt to sink into his skin, “Just let any mutt slip inside with enough begging. I shouldn’t let you have any control over it, should I?”

He grunts with each thrust, finally letting you hear his pleasure. How you’re making him feel whenever you attempt a pathetic little rut of your hips against his, trying to match his unforgiving pace. “It’s okay, I’ll take good care of it. Make sure your cute little pussy knows who it belongs to. Who it should spread its lips for.” 

The change in his pace has you reeling. Has you forgetting every ounce of the outside world. Theres no ‘rest of the backyard’, no Miss Oswald that could walk over and catch you fucking her hyrbid. Nothing but the pressure of Hoseok’s hips rutting against yours and the sound of his low grunts in your ear. “Alpha!” 

He groans, the sound vibrating right in your ear, as you accept your place. As you respond to the non-existent question in the air.  “Exactly.” 

His hips move with purpose now– driving into you over and over again. The movement not daring to pause for even a moment. Completely and utterly consumed. Each and every push in acting as a whip into your core, while every withdrawal acts as though it is moving to keep you in your place. Your whiny hips continue their attempt to keep up with him, to try and match his pace. 

The cord inside of you winding tighter and tighter, drawing entirely taught as you try to bite against the skin on his neck. So close and close and close and close and– 

“You gonna let Jimin rub up against your ass, pup? He looks like he needs it.” The world freezes around you. His thrusts stopping right when you were on the precipice, his words sending ice down your back as you wind your head back from his shoulder, eyes slowly drifting over to follow Hoseok’s gaze. 

Fuck. 

Jimin is standing there, right next to the trellis as he stares at the two of you. His mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, pupils blown wide as the flush on his cheeks. His hand wrapped carelessly around his cock– clearly having been caught stroking it himself when he thought Hoseok wasn’t paying attention. 

Flushed tip dripping with pre-cum, ears now standing at alert as both of your eyes fall on him. His feet taking one step back, then two– 

“Stop.” It’s Hoseok’s voice that makes him freeze in his place, his hand still firmly gripped around his cock. One eyebrow raised as he slowly resumes his motions inside of your cunt, not a care in the world for the pitiful pup who got caught with their hand down their pants. Meanwhile you’re still caught breathless, trying to do anything but flick your gaze between the golden’s face and his leaking cock. So red and pretty and just absolutely desperate. 

 “I would explain yourself now.” Hoseok’s voice cutting through the air, absolute authority on the edge is what finally tumbles Jimin out of his stupored state. His voice ringing out in high whines, tail wagging low as his ears pin back to the base of his skull. 

“It’s not fair!” His voice is the same pitchy, depraved thing as always. His frame quickly rushing towards your paired bodies. Unconcerned for his cock until he saddles up to your side, haphazardly grinding against your leg, already. Pre-cum smearing against the skin, perhaps another attempt at marking you while Hoseok’s cock plugs you up directly.

“I did such a good job! Such a good job at filling you up!” He complains relentlessly, wiggling his frame until he manages to get it behind you with the help of Hoseok manoeuvring you to step out a little from the wall of the house.“A-And you just! Look!” 

He whines again, practically pitiful as he shoves your skirt over your ass, your hands having dropped it somewhere along the way. His arms wrapping around your waist, holding you close. His hips starting a solid, jittery grind against the flesh of your ass while you’re just left to catch up with the two bodies now pressed up against you fully. 

“It’s not fair! I worked so hard!” He tucks his face into your neck, whimpering, pathetic. Hoseok’s hand finding its way into Jimin’s fluffy blonde locks, pulling sharply to draw his head away from the column of your throat. 

“Doesn’t explain why you were watching.” There's a snicker in Hoseok’s voice that has the golden’s cheeks flushing an even brighter shade of red, has his mouth opening and closing as he looks for an excuse. 

“B-because!” It looks like Jimin’s going to argue, but your panicked question distracts him from the debate in his heart. The question you found swirling in your mind from the moment Jimin arrived, anxiety clogging your heart as you were brought crashing back down to the earth from the fluffy clouds you once resided in. 

“Wh-Where’s–” 

It’s Hoseok that answers, already knowing where your concern is sure to lay, “Heard her car pull out awhile ago. Had dinner plans with her friends tonight.” His lips coming down, pressing an all too-gentle kiss to your forehead. The perfect pair to the slow glide of his hips. The thing slowly attempting to inch you back up to the sky, along with the stuttered ruts against your rear.

“That’s how I knew he was coming.” A pointed glance was sent over your shoulder to the blonde behind you, his hips slowly picking up as a small ‘oh’ left your own throat. Your hands slowly relaxing to scratch against Hoseok’s neck once again. As you slowly allowed the pleasure to creep back into your spine. 

“How could I not!” Jimin whines, grumbling as he forces his face back into your neck despite the pull against his hair. Maybe liking the pain of it a little bit more than he would ever be willing to admit, “I smelt you all over her! Smelt my cum and her and you!! You’re so mean!” 

The doberman chuckles, “Uh huh. Right. You say that like you have any place to, mutt.” 

“O-of course I do! You’re fucking my mate!” 

“You were getting off to it.” He rolls his eyes, “Are getting off to it.” He corrects with a shrug, his hips picking up from their slow pace as you let out a whimper. Caught in the middle of the two dog hybrids. 

Jimin’s hips rock forwards as he lets out a petulant whine, though when his cock slips between your folds to meet the feeling of Hoseok’s cock, he can’t help but keen for an entirely different reason. His entire spine shaking as his head presses against Hoseok’s precise rhythm. As he feels your hole stretch to accommodate the invading length with a desperation he’s never felt in this way.

“See?” You can hear the smirk in Hoseok’s tone, though can’t focus on it. Entirely enamoured with the feeling of Jimin's cock rutting repeatedly between your legs, attempting to match the way Hoseok rolls his own though with an entirely unrefined, uncoordinated demeanour, “Can’t even think with the promise of pussy. Both of you pups are the same.” 

You whine, hear Jimin attempt to rebuke it in the background but can’t do much more than that. The heady, spiralling feeling flooding back with so much force you can’t think. Don’t want to. If the drool on your shoulder tells you anything, it’s that your hyrbid is in much the same state. 

When Jimin’s hips begin to move with more meaning, more insistence– only then do you gasp. His hips angling in an attempt to push his way inside of your used cunt as well, stretching you ever so slightly in a way that has your entrance burning and your nails digging into Hoseok’s shoulders. A yip in your voice, yet your body obediently staying in place. 

A growl from Hoseok stops the motion entirely. A sharp tut on your hip pulling you away as he bares his teeth at the younger hybrid. As he warns him to not even attempt doing such a thing. 

And much to your surprise– Jimin’s concession is immediate. The baring of his throat, the small whimper in his voice sounding so loud in your ears. 

“No.” The doberman hybrid grumbles, his hips picking up their pace once more. The scrape of his cock along your walls making you forget about the fight you were almost concerned would break out, “Bad dogs don’t get pussy.” 

The words are a command, and Jimin knows it. Flashes his neck and whines even more as if to actually say sorry. Doesn’t move closer again until Hoseok slowly eases you back. “You’re lucky I’m even letting you do this much. You don’t deserve it.” 

Jimin nods his head quickly in agreement, though you’re not sure if he actually processes the words. His hand pressing his length between your legs again, resuming his grinding like nothing had ever happened in the first place. 

This is entirely beyond you– the whole exchange. The apparent battle for dominance fizzling away as Hoseok keeps you in his grasp. As he fucks his cock into you with purpose, with meaning now that he put both of his pets in their place. 

“I’ll punish him later, pup. Don’t worry.” He grunts, lips pressed into your hair. Shutters running down his entire spine as he hears the both of you slowly begin to fall apart. To submit to your places within the pack just like he knows you both need to to feel safe. To feel complete. 

Both of your moans ringing out loud into the air– Jimin’s desperate as he clings to you. Sweat soaking his brow. Yours angelic, the prettiest thing Hoseok’s ever heard. “You’re both just babbling babies, huh? Don’t know what to do unless someone tells you.” 

You’re brought to the precipice all too quickly once again. You’re head shaking in agreement, while Jimin hazards a half-growl that doesn’t really mean anything. Your walls desperately clinging– clamping around Hoseok’s length. Legs shaking every time you feel both Hoseok thrust into your core and Jimin fuck himself between your legs at the same time. All while Hoseok’s knot slowly grows larger. Pulls against you whenever he pulls out, incessant pressure whenever he pops it back inside.  

With the two of them working together, it's not a question how you’re brought to the edge so easily. Why you’re already tumbling over the edge even though you know you’re supposed to without Hoseok’s permission. Your vision clouding at the corners in white, a sharp inhale being the last breath you take before your orgasm overwhelms you completely. 

Two bodies surrounding you, you press forward into one and lean back into the other. Your hips kicking, stuttering while Jimin attempts to hold them in place. Hoseok’s thrusts becoming jerky in their own right as waves and waves of pleasure drown you.

Distantly, as you continue to ride out your high, you feel something stretch you to the very brim. Heavy coats of white painting your insides as a knot burns against your entrance. Locking him against you, keeping you stuffed full as more and more and more cum floods you. Makes you whimper and try to hold on. 

Slowly you drift back down to earth, your lungs attempting to follow in your footsteps as you try to catch your breath. As the fuzz leaves your ears and the sounds of Hoseok’s growls fill them instead. 

With shaky muscles and a flushed face, you try to look around. Try to use your limited movement to the best of your ability to see what has him worked up. What has Jimin whimpering like a kicked puppy in an attempt to appease him. 

Tilting your head behind you as much as you can muster, you finally see it. Hoseok’s hand wrapped around Jimin’s aching cock, right at the base. Right where Jimin’s knot had attempted to inflate right before Hoseok pulled him away from you. Before Jimin was able to cum even a little bit. 

“Don’t deserve it.” He grunts, fist wrapped around tight. Maybe almost painfully– you’re not sure, but Jimin’s tail still seems to be batting at a mile a minute. High and excited as he keens in desperation. 

“Sorry! I’m sorry!” Jimin doesn’t know what he’s apologising for, that much is clear. Only that he is and that his hips are bucking into the tight grip rather than away from it. “Please– please, I was so close. So close!”

“You really think you deserve to cum?” You feel Jimin nodding his head, his fluffy hair pressing against yours. It’s unfortunate that Hosoek’s already landed on his decision.“Cute. Too bad.” 

His fist finally releases after a traitorously long minute– a loud whine from Jimin signally he had done so. His orgasm completely denied. “What? What! I’ve been good! I deserve to!” 

“Funny.” Hoseok snorts, his attention finally returning to your shaky, wrecked form. He can’t do anything but coo at the tired look in your eyes, the way your thighs barely seem to hold you up anymore. 

“I-I’ll–!” Jimin is acting before thinking, practically frantic as he gets down on his knees to your side. Assisting Hoseok in lifting your leg higher even though it causes a creaky sound from your lips. “I’ll show you! I deserve it!” 

Before you can even manage to get a word out, you feel the softness of Jimin’s tongue against your cunt. The muscle gently licking your hole, where Hoseok has you stretched. Giving it attention that practically sets your nerves on fire, driving you almost into oversensitivity. 

You whine at the feeling, your remaining grounded knee practically giving out though Hoseok calms you before you have time to complain. Hand coming up to brush down your hair, lips finding yours to give you a soft peck. “It’s okay. He’s trying to soothe you. The ache. Dog hybrids do it for each other.” 

Oh. 

You attempt to look between your joined bodies to find the mop of blonde, though are hardly able to as he continues his soft, planned licking. A new found flutter traveling from your core at the attention, the care he provides. 

Soon, you feel the same shutters travel down Hoseok’s spine as his licking moves to the part of the knot he can still reach. Lapping oh-so carefully between your two combined bodies, your heart rate beating just a tad bit faster than before as he seems to get lost in the motion. Forgetting the point of what he was doing as he tastes your combined essence. 

“Okay, okay.” Hoseok finally grunts out, pushing Jimin’s head away. The dog hybrid coming up with a beaming smile, a combination of saliva and your arousal coating the area around his lips. 

“See? I’m good.” He announces, too proud. Hands on his hips, tail beating erratically at his spine. Somehow, you manage to nod your head in agreement. “So I get to cum now?”

Hoseok looks between you– slowly slipping away you– and Jimin, letting out a sigh. “Later. I need to get my omega home now. Into a nice bed while my knot goes down.”

You giggle softly as Jimin visibly deflates, grumbling to himself about something or other your brain couldn’t seem to deem as important. All you could figure out was the heaviness in your limbs and the urge to cuddle nagging at the back of your skull.

“‘T’s okay Min, cuddle now. Please?” Your voice is scratchy as you ask, “Did a good job cleaning, so– so I’ll help later. After cuddles.” 

Though Jimin’s ears perk, he keeps his down trodden demeanour. Following obediently behind as Hoseok lifts you up fully, making sure to keep his knot securely inside so it doesn’t tug on your poor hole. 

The walk back to your house is a blur, along with how you managed to get into your own bed changed into Jimin’s clothes. Your mind only half alert as you settle into the covers, both dog boys tucked around you securely. Keeping you safe. Keeping you loved. Keeping you warm. 

Well, until the illusion of peace is startled when Jimin sits up, a new argument clearly fresh on his tongue, “My! Omega!” 

Hoseok, sleepy as ever– hardly still conscious with his face tucked into your hair, teeth absentmindedly gnawing against your neck. “What?”

“You said my omega! But she’s mine!” 

He only laughs, tutting softly as he laces his fingers in Jimin’s hair, pulling him down. Forcing his face into the other side of your neck. Where Jimin’s mate mark would go when you eventually let you. 

“Our Omega.” 

Jimin grumbles, “Fine.” There's a few seconds of silence settling over you three once again, the feeling of their nibbling bites leaving marks against your skin drawing you closer and closer to falling asleep. “But I had her last.” 

You groan, pushing your face deeper into Hoseok’s chest. The older hybrid just chuckling, clearly more playful than dominant at the moment. Baiting Jimin even further, “I had her first, though.” 

And before you know it, a pillow is whipped around from behind your back, hitting Hoseok square on the side of the head. 

Well, if you thought having one dog hybrid as a roommate was difficult, good luck living with two.

❆ : Ctrl the Cold 2025 M.List

₊˚⊹ 𐂯┊: notes: I just love hybrid fics man what can I say, they're straight dopamine to the veins. in fact, this fic was supposed to include 3 scenes, but by the time 2 were finished and I found myself at almost 15k I said 'Lily you gotta wrap it up' LMAO!!

I hope you enjoyed, and please let me know any thoughts you may have about this fic, or any others I have posted!! I love to yap and talk about characters/ write drabbles for them! Have a great day and see you next friday for the next fic in the event <33

But he finds it endearing all the same, enjoying it, even.

He loves it even more when you start doing it more often in public. He’s able to see the hunger in your eyes from a mile away and it sends a chill down his spine each and every time he catches you.

He’s posing with nonchalance for their concept photos when you first arrive, eyes darting over his form and caging your bottom lip between your teeth. He had acknowledged you with a curt smile and a nod of his head before continuing with the shoot, his own body wanting nothing more than to greet you fully in a warm embrace and kiss to your already swollen lips.

Though, as soon as the opportunity reveals itself, you’re beating him to it. You cross the set with a few quick strides in his direction before melting against him, ducking your head beneath his chin to press an innocent peck to his jaw.

He welcomes you with a tight squeeze around the hips and continues to rock you back and forth while you breathe in his scent.

“Missed you so much,” you admit with a pathetic whine. You weren't normally this needy, much less in public, but today felt different. It felt.. wrong, for once, waking up to an empty bed and a phone full of updates from his weverse, yet not a single message from him directly to you.

You knew he was busy. Hell, your relationship had been built off of his grueling schedule, back when he was promoting his second album with his group and you becoming a staff member of a sister company. He was beyond unavailable and yet you found it difficult to keep your eyes off of him. Unbeknownst to you, he was equally as desperate when it came to your attention. The few instances where your schedules would align left the both of you scrambling against the clock to further familiarize yourselves with one another, and eventually build a connection from a few fleeting glances and brief conversations.

Fast forward to now, things had only progressed in both of your careers, your lives busier than ever. You’ve been officially dating for three years and whilst primarily kept under wraps, your heart longed more and more for the opportunity to remind him of your devotion to him.

Much to your embarrassment, your loyalty presented itself with an unexplainable urge to swallow him whole and take every inch of his skin between your teeth without an ounce of shame.

Hence your current predicament; Seuncheol had his arms thrown lazily around your frame as you swayed, ever so blind to the scheming smile gracing your features. You leaned back, arching yourself against him as he questioned you with pinched brows.

To his surprise, you’d managed all the strength you had and utilized his obliviousness to your advantage, yanking him by the back of his neck and crashing your lips together with haste.

His hitched breath encourages you to move impossibly closer, your chests beating against one another with every jolt of your racing hearts.

The sheer intensity of the kiss is short lived when you detach from him with one last smack of your lips. Drunk on the high you’ve fed him, Seungcheol attempts to chase your lips, urging you to continue.

His silent pleas amuse you, enticing you to lean in towards his ear and whisper,

“Be good for me, Cheol. Go do your job and make me proud.”

You send him off with a playful nip to his cheek, your canines grazing the skin gently, cautious of the hours worth of effort his makeup artists have put in. His eyes follow your retreating form as you find your place behind the cameras.

He’s an hour and a half into taking naturally candid photos around the rented estate, and it’s driving you nuts.

The setting does little to ease your eagerness to claim him right then and there, offering a much more domestic and personal light to his preexisting bachelor aura.

He’s a fucking housewife, your mind offers you to no particular request. Your grip on your jacket’s strings falters when a deep, raspy voice presents itself near the cusp of your ear.

“Did he mention the next shoot to you?”

“Hm?” You respond, sparing Mingyu a passive glance before settling back on your deity of a man leaning over the terrace.

“We’re going swimming, if you wanted to join afterwards.”

“Why would I join?” You reply coolly.

“Well considering how much you’re drooling right now from him just standing there, I figured you’d want to indulge in having him in less layers for a few hours once we wrap up.” He grins.

Your skin burns from where he perches his chin on your shoulder, striking your body in flames as you try your best to shove your thoughts away. You can’t just indulge in your boyfriend’s near nudity just for a few hours. You know you don’t have that kind of self restraint when it comes to seeing him topless and unblemished.

“Mingyu, respectfully,” you turn to him slowly. “Get lost.”

His laugh reverberates against your arm as he tosses his top half against you, bracing himself as he catches his breath. Your sneer recoils into a smile as you catch Seungcheol’s curious glance from across the room.

His posture tenses while raking his eyes over you and mingyu, taking a moment to readjust before continuing his scene. The photographer calls for a break just a few moments later, satisfied with the outcome.

Your body is moving before you register it, slipping out of Mingyu’s reach with one last glare before you’re crashing into Seungcheol’s rigid chest.

“Baby,” he says softly, taking your arms and wrapping them around his waist before placing a gentle kiss to the crown of your head. “Are you staying for the whole shoot?”

“Do you want me to?” You ask coyly, having preemptively cleared your own schedule in favor of following his.

“I always love having you here, you know that.” He smiles.

“Then I’ll stay.” You say and rise on your tip toes to plant a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“Aren’t you two tired of being this clingy?” Mingyu invades your bubble in just a few seconds, separating your bodies with a sudden jut of his hip to yours.

You scowl at him as you’re rudely tossed to the side. His shit eating grin grazes his stupidly handsome features while returning your attention to him.

You two had always been at each other’s throats, both playfully and unwittingly at times. He was your best friend, nonetheless, but it sent Seungcheol’s mind reeling with how kittenish you became when he was around.

Something in his chest twinged with envy and had jealousy rearing its ugly head every once in a while when you two stood too close together, shared a meal during his turns to film or pose for photos, or even as you bantered and bickered in front of him.

He knew it was nothing. Knew you loved him too much to replace him so easily, nevertheless with his own friend and group mate.

“You’re just jealous, Gyu.” You huffed while snaking your arms around Seungcheol’s middle again.

“Me? Jealous?” He gasped, feigning an appalled expression while placing a hand to his chest.

“Yah,” Seungcheol growled. “Get lost before I call Heejoo and tell her you’re moping around on set.”

Mingyu’s eyes wander to the ground at that, rubbing anxiously at the back of his neck as he begins backing away solemnly. The mention of his current situation-ship seems to strike him a lot harder than you’d both expected, and you smirk at his crumbling confidence.

“You’re a dick for that.” He grumbles toward your boyfriend, unable to hide the sudden flush peeking out from under the collar of his shirt.

Seungcheol grunts at him once more, sending the younger man away with another dismissive threat before finally turning his attention to you.

“Will you help me put some sunscreen on before the next set?”

The following hour of camerawork concludes with a brief discussion about tomorrow’s expected schedule, all the more exhausting and seemingly endless as the last. You can see the fatigue draped over Seungcheol's features from where you stand, plummeting your heart into your stomach as you continue to watch him, mingyu and the team wearily deliberate future activities and propositions for upcoming promotions.

With a supportive clap to their backs, the team dissipates around them to end their workdays.

You take the remaining opportunity after the last staff member's departure to approach your boyfriend, your hands instinctually attached to his neck and puling him toward you. He moves pliantly, allowing his head to fall into the crook of your shoulder and neck as he exhales tiredly.

"Long day, bunny?" you remark quietly, raking your nails across the nape of his neck.

"Too long," he grumbles, ignoring the nickname you know normally grinds his gears any other day. You feel his muscles returning to their tense state as he removes himself from you begrudgingly.

"Can you stay the night?" The light in his eyes flicker with something akin to hope before clouding with uncertainty at the sound of your defeated sigh.

"I have a meeting early in the morning. Have to meet with the company to discuss some upcoming solo works." Your words fall on deaf ears as he's already groaning and pouting, choosing to disregard your excuse in favor of throwing a short-lived fit.

"I can have someone drive you early in the morning?" His offer hangs heavily in the space between you, an offer you really want to take him up on.

To your misfortune, calling out for today was enough of a reason for your company to dismiss you of your duties permanently should you choose to do it again.

The short notice had thrown your team for a whirlwind, a mini crisis plaguing the workplace and blowing up your phone for the entirety of your time spent watching Seungcheol. You were ashamed to admit it out loud, but you'd give anything to quit and replace your priorities with becoming a stay at home simp for your boyfriend. You'd give anything to watch him all day long, cling to him at every beck and call, and devote yourself to being the best version of yourself you could be for him.

Were you insane for thinking that far? yes.

Were you that serious about him? also yes.

You couldn't help the pained complaint that escaped your throat upon seeing his face fall. It shredded every single piece of you to know you couldn't stay, and even more so when he began to beg for you to.

"Please? at least for a few hours? 'Till I fall asleep?" His eyes drift between yours, searching for any bit of redemption, consideration, confirmation.

Removing your hands, you smooth over your features to look at your watch, noting the late hour and the dread pestering your mind. Your notifications peer back at your for a second, reminding you of the dedication you had to your work for the following morning.

It would only be a few hours, you consider.

A beat of silence passes by before you inevitably agree with a nod of your head. "Okay."

To say he's elated would be an understatement. He's over the moon at your response, immediately linking your fingers and dragging you inside the airbnb, shifting his direction towards the bedroom as you enter.

"I'll take a shower and then we can watch a movie!" He suggests after leading you to the bed where you sit patiently, smiling as he trips over his own two feet while dashing toward the bathroom.

God, you can't believe he's yours.

"Did you know you had a mole here?"

Seungcheol meets your eyes through the reflection of the mirror, watching you trail your nails down his spine as he finishes his skin routine at the bathroom sink. You've since changed into a spare set of his clothes, a simple t-shirt that drapes over your dips and curves and ends just past the apex of your thighs.

His gaze lingers for a moment longer than it normally does, mouth subconsciously watering at the sight of you.

"I don't think so." He chuckles softly while returning to his process of unfolding a face mask and spreading it across his features carefully.

"Your back is so..." your voice drawls with a pensive hum, considering your words intently before continuing. "boring."

"Huh?" He turns in your grasp, catching the faint smirk pulling at the corner of your lips.

"It's just missing something." You utter.

"Like what?" he murmurs, his lips pursed in effort to keep his mask from slipping.

Your grin spreads along your face, head cocking to the side as you maneuver your hands over the expanse of his bare chest, raising goosebumps in their wake.

"Could use a little more me on it."

You spot the shift in his demeanor, shoulders tensing slowly, eyes sharpening, and the veins in his neck straining as he swallows dryly. You don't give him a chance to act on his desire, gracefully pinning his wrists against the counter and slipping your tongue out to lap at the flushed skin of his neck.

His groan rumbles from between your pressed chests, audibly forfeiting all control as you continue to press open mouthed kisses to his throat. His hips buck desperately when he feels your teeth graze just past his jugular, sinking deeper into his flesh with every breath he gasps.

"Baby," he whimpers against your persistence. You pull back, relishing in the subtle chase of his lips toward yours, halting just out of his reach with an arched brow.

"Bunny?" you counter, urging him to proceed with what he needs to say.

"Can't." He whines, overwhelming mortified with displeasure for having to restrain himself.

"Can't what?" You probe innocently, inching closer once more, guiding him back to you by the draw strings of his shorts. He lulls forward without resistance, drawn to your lips with nothing except a mere inch between them.

"Can't be marked. Not now." He says petulantly, eyes downcast as he drops his head, dejected.

Your heart thuds against your rib cage at that, growing restless as fondness ebbs away at your brain, turning it into mush. He knows you so well, knows that you need to mark him up, leave your presence on his skin for everyone to see how taken he is.

Love smothers your senses, your head cloudy and full of him. Your everything. Your person.

You reach to curl your fingers through his blonde, wet strands, tugging with enough force to lift his head once more. He moans quietly at that, his own hands finding purchase on your hips as he stares at you through his dark lashes.

You smile and tap his bicep with your free hand. You notice his eyes trailing your features hungrily before placing a gentle kiss to his muscle, right below his shoulder.

"'S okay, Bunny." You coo.

His arm flexes under the warmth of your fanning breath, fidgeting at every peck of your lips you lead up his arm and toward his chest.

You freeze once you've reached his collar bone, slowing your breathing and blowing a long, heavy exhale that mists over his already clammy skin. You smirk triumphantly at his muted mewl, watching his chest rise and fall erratically.

"I won't mark your pretty skin just yet," you reassure calmly, your hand still twisted in his hair as you pull it experimentally once more, lavishing his skin in praises when he moans.

"Stay still for me, m'kay?"

You don't wait for his response before sinking your teeth near his clavicle with pressure, not enough to break skin but plenty to stimulate both him and you when he ruts against you.

"Gentle," He reminds you through brief, measured breaths.

"I know, I know." you chide and release your grip on his hair briefly to instead hold his throat between your hands.

His eyes peer down at you for a short moment before flashing you a playful grin. You mirror it with your own before squeezing lightly at his neck, reveling in the meek sound he coughs out.

"So pretty," you murmur lovingly. "All mine to play with however I want. Whenever I want."

To his dismay, his nod is restrained and dismissed by you when you apply just a bit more pressure, your gaze darkening as he wraps a hand around one of your wrists, wordlessly pleading for more. You oblige and wedge your knee between his thighs, now aware of how engrossed he truly was upon feeling his pulsing erection against your bare skin.

"Is this why you wanted me to stay so bad? So you could be manhandled by your pretty girlfriend? Hm?"

Your hands release him, dropping to your sides as he heaves a few labored breaths, his eyes never once leaving your retreating form as you saunter toward the bed, patting the space beside you once you're perched at the edge.

He carries himself on wobbly legs to where you sit, landing ungracefully onto the bed with a soft "oof" before reaching a hand out toward you. You link your hands together momentarily, allowing yourself to soak in the appearance of his current state; dazed, spent, and utterly beautiful with every inch of his skin painted a bright red by an angry flush.

"Roll onto your belly for me, Cheolie." you direct.

He does so without complaint, damningly compliant to your every command. You absentmindedly trace shapes into his spine, your lips curling into a smile each time he flinches against the brush of your nails.

He rests his head against his folded arms, unintentionally flexing his muscles at the broadness of his shoulder blades. You chuckle, quietly shifting your attention to the taut skin, lowering yourself to place lingering kisses.

A sigh creeps out of his deflating body, audibly enjoying your attention. You proceed to kiss your way up, pausing to nip at the fat of his arms playfully and releasing a giggle of your own when he claims he's ticklish with a laugh.

You bite back the quip on your tongue, choosing to focus more on his twitching hips by running your hand over the smooth skin of his arched lower back. He hums, satisfied, and groans when your begin to pull his shorts down his thighs, allowing them to fall aimlessly to the ground.

He jolts upright when your hand collides with a loud smack against his ass, immediately coiling into himself with a yelp.

"What, you can do it by I can't?" You joke when he replies with a harmless glare.

"I'm not letting you peg me, if that's what you're leading up to." He chastises with narrowed eyes.

You feign a look of betrayal, simultaneously guiding him onto his back once more as you move to straddle his hips.

"Tough, I really wanted to see your cute little ass all perked up for me." You can't hold back the devious giggle that threatens to escape you, fully leaning against his chest to stabilize yourself.

"You're insane." He huffs with an eye roll.

"Yeah, but it's kind of cute." Your smile lingers a moment longer as he presses his lips to your forehead, soft and everlasting.

It's then that you lift your head and laugh once more, your fingers reaching to remove his face mask he'd long forgotten.

"I was really trying to keep a straight face!" You giggled. He levels you with a bashful scowl, turning away from your gaze as you settle down with a quiet sigh.

In the blink of an eye, your playful character is gone, replaced by your previous deviant nature.

"You're gonna be the death of me." He murmurs against your skin when you begin grinding your clothed pussy onto his exposed cock.

"I better act quick then," You retort while reaching down and clutching onto your panties to pull them side, angling your sopping folds to trail over the head of his cock.

"Fuck, Bunny. You're so fucking perfect." You groan into the dip of his shoulder, pressing yourself harder against him. His grip on your waist returns, clambering against your ministrations.

"Just— just take me already." He grits out through a particularly sharp inhale. "And don't call me bunny— shit —while we're fucking, jesus."

"You got it, Bunny." Your voice cracks ever so slightly as you begin your descent down his length, abdomen flexing with every ragged breath you take as he breaches your entrance. The stretch is painful, tearing you apart no matter how many times you've taken it. Tears spring to your eyes, threatening to spill before you finally settle, flush to his groin with a shaky breath.

"Oh fucking hell," He moans deeply. He recovers with a sudden shift of his hips, stripping you of all power you previously obtained.

You lurch forward with a startled mewl, your face falling between the crevice of his jaw and throat. Your mouth latches on helplessly, teeth grazing the stubble of his chin and biting down impishly.

He returns the favor, pausing to rip your (his) shirt off and tossing it aside hurriedly, attaching his mouth to the mound of your breast, nibbling at the supple flesh and grinding up into you when you elicit a borderline pornographic moan.

"Please, Cheol, please." You moan against his ear, grinding against him feverishly. Your begging fuels him further, ripping every ounce of self restraint out of him, replaced with an insatiable appetite only you can satisfy.

"You're so beautiful, baby. I'm gonna let you mark me as soon as all of this is over. Soon, my love. So soon." His attempts to soothe your desires warm your insides, your knees near gelatinous as he rams into your pulsating heat without a second regard or worry.

You feel his pace quickening with every plunge, your own movements futile in contrast with his. Your back hits the mattress in a flash, your legs forcefully pinned to your sides as he impales you over and over.

Your moans melt into short, wispish screams when you feel his mouth latch onto your breasts again, leaving deep, bruising indents from his teeth.

The mere idea of him biting you, the same way you've done with every given opportunity in the past, has your legs clenching against his waist, your teeth clamping around your lips as you feel yourself release into the euphoria of your climax.

"More, Cheol, please more—I want—I need more." Your cries fill his chest with pleasure and vanity, thrusting him head-first into the deep end of your satisfaction. He comes with a choked out cry, muffling the sound into your chest as he curls inwards, pumping himself dry into your tightening core.

"Baby," his hand leaves your waist to settle on your sweaty cheek, caressing the crimson skin as he adores your spent features. "You did so good, my love. so good for me."

You groan softly in reply, motioning for him to lay beside you with a limp wrist. He chuckles softly and gently pries himself free of your tight cunt with a groan.

“One more round?” You mumble into the pillows, peeking an eye in his direction to catch the faint grin on his dewy face.

“Give me ten minutes.”

“Shit,” he hisses. “Slow down.”

Your tongue slips between the slit of his cock, catching every last drop of his seed from his second release.

If there’s anything you’ve learned about your boyfriend in the past three years of dating him, it’s that he’s prone to over sensitivity after his second high. While you can recover relatively quickly after an orgasm, his stamina is overmatched by the mere pain of reaching another climax so short apart.

It’s something you both teetered the line with, not knowing whether it was right or even possible to milk him for as many rounds as he could. But, much like the rest of your ideas and suggestions, he couldn’t say no to you.

So you pumped his cock even faster, watching his jaw slack and chin quiver with a cry as he came down from his third match.

“You’re doing great, bunny.” You encourage, slowing your pace down to run a stripe along the side of his length with your tongue.

His brows dip and another moan escapes him. “You’re— you’re killing me.”

“Mh,” you hum. With a final tug to his half hard cock, you trail your lips over the smooth surface of his inner thigh, relishing in his breathy exhales.

“You’re always so good for me.” You say.

The tip of your tongue traces the faint stretch marks of his upper thigh, nearing the edge of his hip where you still.

The pads of your fingers skim over the flesh before you’re leaning forward and clamping your mouth down full force, undoubtedly leaving a mark this time.

You hear his choked shriek of pleasure and pain, the sudden grip on your hair paired with it.

“Fuck! ‘M gonna come again.” His voice lilts, pitched higher than usual.

You continue to pepper kisses along his waistline before meeting his opposite thigh with another skin-breaking bite. Your moan pulsates against the irritated skin, soothing the burn and easing the mark against the fat of his thigh to an eventual bruise with the flat of your tongue.

“Can’t take anymore.” He cries desperately, loosening his fingers wrapped around your disheveled locks as he comes down from his final release.

You give in to his whining after another brief moment of caressing the enflamed skin. You carefully ascend up his hiccuping body, tiny pecks littering his bareness before you connect your mouth with his with the upmost tenderness you could possibly muster.

“I love you so much.” You speak quietly against his lips.

His eyes remain shut, fluttering in and out of consciousness as he nods his head in response.

“Love you too.” He murmurs.

Laying your head on his chest, your entire being laxes against him, fully satiated and enraptured in his presence. A hand creeps up your waist, squeezing your side carefully as his body deflates beneath you with a deep exhale.

You could never truly thank him enough for indulging in your antics. You’re aware your love languages are drastically different; yours being entirely unhinged and bordering aggressive, where as his is prevalent in his gentle mannerisms, gift giving and pure compliance when it comes to you.

Nevertheless, the love you both have for one another surpasses all expectations and continues to surprise you day after day, year after year.

Even if you have to hide your love bites from the public eye.

< A/N: fin! this took a lot less time to write than i anticipated, despite the fact that smut tends to discourage my creativity. but! after getting all of my thoughts out and returning to the storyline with fresh ideas and inspiration, i was able to pump out a pretty decent chunk of raunch to satisfy my expectations for my first time writing smut.

that being said, i hope this flows well and encourages you to leave a comment or repost! feedback and suggestions are always appreciated. :) thanks!!!