nollie

“Come on baby, you can keep going for me, can’t you?”

His voice, deep and strained with pleasure sends a shiver up your spine, instilling you with a renewed vigour that has you bracing your hands on his bare chest to fuck yourself down on him faster. 

His hands remain unmoving on your hips, fingers digging into the plush flesh as he lazily guides you over him. But he’s more focused on the way your pretty cunt, exposed with your lacy panties pushed to the side, stretches around him each time you sink down.

“So fucking pretty like this,” he praises breathily, one hand sliding up your trembling body to cup your breast through your bralette, finger digging harshly enough into your nipple to leave you whimpering. 

“Yeah?” You ask, arching into his touch and bringing yourself down to slow, rolling grinds that have him brushing against the deepest parts of you. “Why don’t you take a video then?” 

You smile at the way his eyes widen and snap up to yours, his plush, kiss-bitten lips parting with a sharp breath. “Can I?”

You dig your teeth into your lower lip, moaning softly as you sink fully down and clench around him, a movement that has his head falling back with a guttural groan. 

“Yeah,” you hum, picking up your pace again as he scrambles for his phone from the nightstand. You giggle at his eagerness, at how he nearly drops his phone as he navigates to his camera app. “You can keep it as something to keep you company on tour.”

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” he mutters, leaning forward to give you a quick but deep, messy kiss before leaning back against the headboard and positioning his phone. 

The flash turns on, fixating right on your cunt and the milky ring of your arousals forming at the base of his cock. 

You slide your hands down to his hips, letting your nails rake down his skin and leave scarlet lines that are surely in frame of the camera. 

“Do I look good?” You ask teasingly, lowering your voice into something sultry and intentional. 

His eyes are blown and glazed over as he watches his screen, tongue flicking out to wet his lips. “So pretty, darling,” he whispers. 

His thumb hooks under the hood of your cunt to pull it up, exposing your swollen nub that he then slowly thumbs at. 

You moan, gasping when he starts to roll his hips up to yours, the wet squelching becoming more prominent with how much you’re creaming around him. 

“Sound so fucking pretty too,” he mumbles, utterly entranced by the wet strings stretching between your hips each time you detach. “Fuck, I’m so lucky. If only the guys could see,” he mutters bitterly under his breath, like he’s unaware of what’s slipping from his mouth at this point. “See how well I treat my girl.”

You have to bite back your amused giggles and your moans as his hips snap up a little harsher with his shift in mood. You knew those comments from his members about Theo potentially being the worst boyfriend of the bunch had gotten to him, no matter how unaffected he tried to seem by them.

The part of you that’s petty and protective over your boyfriend sings at the idea of putting their underestimations to shame. 

“Show them then,” you tell him. “Send it to them.”

Theo’s movements falter as he stares up at you, flushed face deepening into a pretty scarlet. “Really?”

You giggle, slowing your hips down and squeezing around him as you lift yourself up until just his tip remains. “Really.”

Before you know it, you’re flipped over on your back, folded practically in half as Theo pushes one of your legs to your chest, his other hand still holding the phone to capture everything as he starts to pound into you with intent in deep, steady thrusts. 

“You want me to show ‘em how good I fuck you?” His rough voice cuts through the moans he fucks out of you.

Your eyes are starting to glaze over as your body rushes with heat from the way he’s brushing against that sweet spot inside you with each thrust. 

You make a mewling noise in assent, too overwhelmed with pleasure to form any words. 

“Hold yourself open for me, yeah?” He asks you and you barely have the mind to hook your hands under your knees, giving his hand free reign to explore your body. 

He immediately reaches for your chest, hastily tugging your bralette down to expose your tits, panning the camera up to capture the way they bounce with each of his harsh thrusts. 

“Tell them baby,” he coos, using the slick on his fingers from your cunt to circle your nipple. “Tell them how good I treat you.”

“So good,” you gasp when he pinches the stiff bud. “Treat me so nice, Yangie— oh, fuck!”

He laughs as he grinds himself in deep, moving the camera back down to your stretched, leaking pussy. 

“See that?” He asks, and it takes you a moment to realize he’s not speaking to you. He starts to slowly thrust into you again, circling your clit with his thumb and moving the camera closer to get a good shot of just how much you’re creaming around him. “See how well she takes me? Had to train her to make it fit. Trained her real good though, she could probably fit even more in here.”

You whine at his words, at the insinuation and at being exposed like that, clenching around him and making him groan and stutter. 

His thumb speeds up on your clit and you feel your body start to go rigid with pleasure, the heat in your gut pulling tight.

“Yangie, ‘m gonna—“ You break off with a loud moan when he pinches your clit and your orgasm comes barreling through your body, making you twitch and pulse around him. 

Theo hisses at the feeling and pulls out until the tip, stroking himself rapidly to completion but when he comes, he makes sure to release into you, just so he can pull out and scissor you open to record his cum leaking out of you. 

You’re too hazy-minded from your orgasm to realize the pictures he takes of you before he’s manhandling you onto your stomach. 

“I’m not done with you yet.”

𓆩⟡𓆪

11:37pm

Theo: 4 attachments

Keeho: holy fuck Keeho: did you send this by accident taeyang?

Soul: ( ꩜ ᯅ ꩜;) 

Jiung: Just delete it from your phones

Theo: Not an accident

Jongseob: fuck  Jongseob: maybe a warning next time pls? Jongseob: not that i’m complaining

Soul: (˵ ¬ᴗ¬˵) 

Intak: hard in the studio rn this is not good

Jongseob: why r u still there

Theo: 3 attachments Theo: Hope you enjoy boys ♥️ - tae’s very well treated girl

Keeho: thank you angel <3

Jongseob: sorry for doubting you hyung Jongseob: wasn’t aware of ur game

Intak: we get to have this… for free??

Jongseob: don’t. no one here wants to see ur dick

Intak: rude just wanna show her waht she’s doing to me

Theo: Don’t. No reciprocating. Just take what you get but it stays in the chat.

Keeho: roger that

Intak: 🫡 Intak: how do you make a secret folder on your phone

Keeho: jiung made one for me but he’s hiding from the chat rn (poorly) Keeho: ung yk we can see you reading the messages

Jiung: Wjat 

Jongseob: ji hyung making typos??

Jiung: Can yoi stop spamning the cgat

Intak: 💀  Intak: he’s totally jacking off rn

Soul: me too 4 people liked this message

-

1:03am

Intak: so when do we get the live viewing?

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1 reblog/comment = 1 virtual kiss <3

You brace yourself against the kitchen counter with both hands and take a deep breath in before smiling at him over your shoulder, a little too wide to be genuine. “I’m okay! Just needed a little break from out there. Might’ve taken that second shot too quickly.”

“Oh!” He says, immediately springing into action. “Let me get you some water!” He rummages through cabinets to find a glass for you in such a hurry like it’s of the utmost importance that you’re tended to.

You watch him as he so earnestly fetches you the water, a little pout of concentration on his lips. It’s sweet of him, and really, you can’t find yourself staying too upset in his presence, not when he’s making sure you’re taken care of. Especially not when he’s aiming that cute little smile at you as he hands you the glass.

“Thank you, Taki,” you say as you take the glass and he beams like the sun. One of your favourite pastimes is to figure out all the ways you can get that smile out of him, which really doesn’t take much from you, but the most effective way is calling him by that nickname. It endears you, makes you warm all over to be the subject of that smile. You find yourself smiling back at him over the glass as you sip on the water.

“So…” He slides himself closer to you, standing with his back against the counter as he looks down at you with that same grin. “You got any New Year’s resolutions?”

You put the glass on the counter and look up at him, mirroring his position. “Hm… I have one,” you say and he leans in to hear you better. You lean in too then whisper it to him like it’s a secret. “I don’t want to be single next year.”

His eyes practically light up, and you feel a little cruel for possibly stringing him along, but he just makes it so easy for you to poke at him. He’s cute, very cute, and you can’t help but want to play with him in a fond sort of way. You like Intak when he’s on his own. It’s just when the other one is around that he becomes a bit of a problem.

“Oh, that’s cool,” he says, throwing in a little shrug to come off as nonchalant as possible. You have to hold in your snort. “Any prospects in your sight then?”

“There might be” you say, bumping your shoulder to his. “Why?”

He immediately flusters, cheeks tinging pink. “Just curious!” He says and clears his throat when it cracks midway, cheeks going aflame. “You deserve a good guy. So you know, I just wanted to know if you have, uh, one of those…”

You narrow your eyes at him, crossing your arms. “You just want to know if it’s Jiung, don’t you?” It’s not confrontational, you just want to tease him a little, see how much he’s willing to admit. You’ve never failed to see right through him.

He blinks at you, jaw going a little slack at being so bluntly called out. “I…” He looks like he’s about to argue against it but then thinks better. “Well, is—?“

Like the devil being invoked with the call of his name, Jiung’s voice cuts in before Intak can finish. “What about me?”

You curse internally. You shouldn’t have said his name.

You turn to see Jiung at the doorway, watching you both with an unreadable expression on his face and twirling a beer bottle in his hand. He’s wearing a black formal shirt with thin white stripes tucked into black jeans. You’re not used to seeing him in more formal looks like this, but it suits him quite well, you think. It accentuates the commanding sort of vibe that you’ve learned to associate with him.

The air immediately shifts as Jiung and Intak lock eyes, and it almost feels like you’ve stopped being the important thing in the room, like you’re not even there anymore for a stilted moment. You take a deep breath to prepare yourself for what is sure to be another charged, uncomfortable spar of unspoken words.

“Nothing,” Intak says, standing to his full height. Something you’ve noticed he does more often whenever Jiung is near. Must be a testosterone thing, you figure; asserting dominance with his advantage in height.

Jiung saunters in casually, eyes lingering on Intak with a thin veil of heat under his gaze as he makes his way to your other side. Then it shifts to you and he gives you one of those warm smiles of his that have always done wonders to wind you down. You return the smile, feeling the effects of it already.

This is a position you find yourself in too often these days; caught between the two of them.

“Drink?” Jiung asks, holding the lip of his beer bottle up to your mouth with one of his ringed hands. Hands that you sometimes find yourself trying not to leer at. Hands that he knows he has to his advantage, if the little smirk on his lips is anything to go by when he sees your eyes lingering there a little too long.

Before you can respond, Intak is cutting in to answer for you. “No, she’s already had enough.”

Jiung’s eyes flit up over your head to look at Intak and the warmth behind his smile is immediately undercut by the cold in his gaze. “I think she can answer for herself.”

“What, are you trying to get her drunk?”

“That’s immediately where your head goes? I was just offering her a drink.”

You lower your head, sighing in exasperation. If you don’t cut this off now you’re in for an even longer night.

“And I told you, she’s—“

“Guys,” you cut in, voice raised an octave higher.

They immediately silence and you feel both pairs of eyes bearing down on you. You could get upset, scold them both for tiring you out with their catfighting the past few months, but a part of you loves the attention and you don’t want to do anything to jeopardise it.

You look up at Jiung and give him one of your disarming smiles that has the ice immediately melting away. “I’m okay, but thank you for the offer.”

“Told you,” mutters Intak petulantly. You put your hand on Intak’s elbow and he immediately mellows out too, leaning subconsciously into your touch.

You peel yourself away from the counter to stand in front of them, to escape the thick wall of tension they carry between them whenever you’re in the picture. “Actually,” you start, basking in the way they hang onto every word from your lips like you’re spewing prophecy. “I think I’m gonna go to my room and rest for a while. Take a bit of a break from socializing.”

You hope that they take the hint to leave you alone for a while but it’s almost amusing how they understand the complete opposite and jump at the opportunity, rushing to reach your side. The amusement trickles away when, once again, you’re caught between their crystal veneer of icy disdain.

“I can take her up,” Intak says just as Jiung tells you, “I’ll take you.”

Your eye twitches, and it's not from the late hour or the alcohol.

You can sense them rearing to start up another argument so you place your hands on their chests, the touch settling them down like a silent command.

“Why don’t you both take me up?” You offer because you realize there’s really no way out of this. Your careful grip on your calm demeanor is slowly slipping and you really don’t need things blowing up on what’s supposed to be a fun party to end off the year. You should play the good hostess and do what it takes to prevent that, even if it’s at the risk of your own sanity.

Surprisingly, they relent, though not without another ‘subtle’ glare shared between them over your head. They both go to place a hand on your lower back but accidentally brush against each other so they quickly divert with Jiung’s hand pressing higher against your back and Intak’s going respectfully lower. You’re not sure if you want to laugh or roll your eyes.

“Come on.” Intak urges you forward and the three of you make the climb up to the second floor, away from the noise and the people.

It’s silent through the trip to your room. Neither of them detach from you as you make your way to your bed until you take a seat at the foot of it, at which they reluctantly let their hands slide off. They don’t move away though, they just hover by where you sit, seemingly in a silent conversation with each other if their shifting eyes and twitching expressions were anything to go by. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out they’re trying to convince the other to leave.

“Why don’t you both sit?” You ask instead, patting the bed on either side of you. Maybe you can magically convince them to be comfortable with spending time with you at the same time so you don’t have to live with any more awkwardness; you could do with a New Year’s miracle.

Their response to you, as usual, is immediate. They slide into the spots not bothering to leave any space between them and you, but at least they’re behaving and not barking at each other like very unthreatening dogs.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been in your room before,” Jiung says, glancing around before tilting his head towards you with a cute smile. “It’s very you.”

“Very pretty,” Intak adds smoothly with an equally cute grin, bumping his shoulder into yours.

Despite it all, you find yourself charmed by him, as always, and bump your shoulder back to his. “You flatter me.”

Jiung scoffs, ‘hiding’ his distaste behind a forged smile. “There he goes again,” he says, teasingly, but you can hear the condescension behind his words. “Flirting with anything that smiles at him.”

Intak doesn’t look miffed for a change; he looks cocky as he leans forward to look over at Jiung with an equally feigned smile. “Are you mad I have game?”

“No, but I suppose your game doesn’t come with decorum, does it?” Jiung fires back easily.

“Guys—” You try to intercept again but your plea falls on deaf ears this time.

“You wanna talk about decorum?” Intak asks, his smile now more of a scowl. “How about not butting in where you’re not concerned?”

Jiung’s smile twitches into something more dangerous, heated with warning. “How’s Suni by the way?” He pivots away, says that name dripping with vitriol. “You talked to her tonight yet? I think she was looking for you earlier.”

You couldn’t care less about who Suni was but Jiung seems all too satisfied with himself when Intak turns a shade paler. Intak turns to you and opens his mouth to defend himself but you’re pushing yourself up to your feet.

“Guys!” You snap, facing them with a glare. “I swear, if I have to bring this into the New Year with me, I’m going to blow both of your brains out and then my own.”

That shuts them up. They blink owlishly at you, shocked at your sudden outburst. You’ve never been pushed to the point of shouting at them before but you really don’t think you can take another day of tiptoeing around this.

You take a deep breath to get a handle on your tone. No time like the present to get to the bottom of whatever the hell this is, you think to yourself. “You both want me right?”

They both look taken aback by the question, scandalized almost. “How’d you know?” Intak asks earnestly, like he hasn’t been overtly flirting with you and trying to ask you out without asking you out for the past three months.

“You can’t be serious right?” You raise your brow at them. “You’re the two most obvious idiots I know.”

When they start avoiding your gaze and squirming, looking equally chastised, you sigh and take your seat between them again. “Look,” you start, then pause to pick your next words carefully. Your eyes shift to the clock which reads a little before 11pm, and you remind yourself that you really don’t want to drag this issue into the New  Year with you, a year you promised yourself would be all about solutions and not problems. So, you make an executive decision. 

“You both want me?” You wait for an affirmative nod from both of them before continuing. “You have over an hour until the New Year. Figure it out by then or neither of you will see this room again.”

You’re not even sure what it is you’re proposing, but you’re just praying they’ll come to some sort of solution on their own. And if this chases them away from you, you can just find a new plaything next year.

They stare at you, trying to figure out what exactly you’re proposing. When they come to some sort of understanding, they start sizing each other up and you’re getting the creeping suspicion that you’re gonna have to clean blood off the floors if you don’t intervene.

“Punches allowed?” Intak says, pulling off his baby blue sweater to reveal a white tee, leaving his tan and toned arms exposed. You try not to stare but you don’t think he’d mind so you do it anyway.

Jiung rolls his eyes as he starts rolling up his sleeves, pale, veiny forearms joining Intak’s arms for your viewing pleasure. “How else would we do it?” He snarks. 

You snap yourself out of your leering when the words register in your head. “No!” You groan, throwing your head back in frustration. “Nothing bloody or violent.”

You’re met with more silence as you search the ceiling for some sort of divine intervention and when you lift your head again, you’re met with the sight of them having another one of their silent conversations. But this one doesn’t seem to be an argument.

You nearly flinch when they both turn their heads to you simultaneously after some time, fixing you with a calculating look that is eerily similar to each other; one you’ve seen both of them wear when they’re trying to figure out a new track together.

“It can be physical though, right?” Jiung asks, leaving you to wonder what he’s getting at.

“Just nothing violent?” Intak adds, tilting his head. 

You shrug, just glad that they seem to have come to some idea of a solution. Whatever gets the job done. “Sure.”

“Alright then,” Jiung starts. He turns his body so he’s sat facing you, Intak mirroring him on your other side. “You’re going to choose.”

You shake your head no. “If I had a favourite I would’ve chosen by now.”

“Then we’ll just have to convince you, won’t we?” Intak says with a crooked half smile that promises trouble.

You’re not sure if it’s the fading buzz from the alcohol making your body warm up or if it’s the way they both leer at you with a heat in their eyes hungering for victory and for you.

A breath leaves you like it’s been punched out of your lungs when you realize the direction this is heading. But you can’t find a bone in your body that wants to reject it.

“Before we start,” Jiung says, not doing anything to hide the way his eyes rake over your figure. You feel fire licking through your insides under his scrutiny. “How many drinks has everyone had?”

“One,” Intak answers, eyes focused on yours in heated interest. 

The air has shifted with something heavy and electric, one you find yourself wanting to suffocate in for a change.

You swallow, holding yourself still so you don’t squirm under their gaze. If this is where the night is headed, you don’t plan on making it easy for either of them. Not after all the headache they’ve caused you. “Two,” you say. “Might as well be just one where I’m at now.”

“One,” Jiung says with an approving nod. His eyes are just as, if not more, intense as Intak’s when they catch your gaze as it shifts from Intak’s.

“How does this work?” Intak asks, and you have to rip your eyes away from Jiung’s alluring hold so you can think clearly.

“You’re going to convince me who’s more… skilled. I decide who does what best,” you say the first things that come to mind. “Whoever wins more takes the cake. We’ll figure it out as we go.”

You try to appear as unaffected as you can but the prospect of what might be unfolding is exciting you in ways you haven’t been excited before.

“Good,” Jiung says. “Then we’ll start with—“

Jiung doesn’t get a chance to finish before Intak pounces. He grabs your jaw and pulls you to him as he crashes his lips to yours in a hard, searing kiss. Jiung’s curse fades into the background as you feel yourself melting into Intak’s plush lips, sighing as you kiss him back with a languid vigour.

Intak isn’t having that though; he slides his hand into your hair to keep you in place as he tilts his head and deepens the kiss, demanding more.

It’s a little scary how quickly you feel yourself giving into him. You don’t get much time to relish in the way Intak takes you whole with just a kiss before there’s another hand on your cheek, pulling you away only to be met with a new pair of lips, one that’s slower and more sensual against you.

This one is intoxicating in a new way; it’s careful and searching rather than taking but no less heated. Jiung’s lips are thinner but soft as they press to yours in a hypnotic rhythm.

You make a soft noise as Jiung’s hand slides down to the base of your neck, just holding you there as he kisses you. You can feel your body growing needy with each second that passes.

You feel Intak’s inquiring hand on your thigh, squeezing gently as a reminder that he’s still there. You feel his exhale against your ear as he noses into your hair, breaths running shorter with his impatience.

“C’mon,” he mutters when Jiung doesn’t relent and then pulls you back into him with his hand back on your jaw.

You nearly get whiplash at the sudden change of pace with Intak’s insistent lips back against yours. Jiung’s don’t leave you completely though; he mutters another curse at Intak before he trails hot, wet kisses down your jaw then down your neck where his hand is still pressed while Intak tries to devour you whole.

You feel dizzy with all the sensations running through you, but if there’s one thing you’re sure of it’s that you’d rather be nowhere else than right between them, a thought that would’ve made you laugh in the face of it mere minutes ago.

Intak’s tongue suddenly prodding between your lips has you gasping, giving him the opportunity to slip right in. You accept him with a soft moan, your hand clutching onto the sheets for support as you feel yourself crumble under his lips.

Jiung doesn’t let you forget him though. He squeezes against the base of your neck for a short moment that has you reeling, before he slides down the shoulder of your dress with his other hand so he can attach his lips to the exposed expanse of your skin. He lets the hand around your neck feather down your figure, a touch that’s light but already has you squirming under it.

You hear, and feel, his low chuckle against your shoulder as he trails his warm hand back up, sliding against your thigh, up your stomach, then up to your chest where he stops and kneads your breast.

The sudden sensation has you pulling back from Intak’s lips with a gasp and Jiung doesn’t waste the opportunity to capture your lips back with his. You’re not sure what’s left and right or what’s up and down anymore with the back and forth but gods is it thrilling.

“Asshole,” you hear Intak mutter bitterly before he attaches himself to your neck, all teeth and tongue.

Jiung barely pulls back enough to retort, “Fair game.” You can practically feel the smirk on his lips as he continues to work your mouth open to take his tongue. His hand stays on your chest as he circles his finger over your clothed nipple, working it to a stiff peak that he then tugs at between his fingers. 

You whimper into the kiss, arching your chest further into his touch and he gives it another squeeze before sliding his hand down to your lower stomach, just letting you feel the heat of him through your thin dress.

All while Intak trails his lips back up your neck, up your jaw, and trails to your lips that are still against Jiung’s before stopping right at the edge of where you’re connected. He nips impatiently at your jaw when you don’t turn to him. You relent with a chastising hum, too tongue tied (literally) to say anything, and pull away from Jiung to turn to kiss Intak instead.

“You’re just hogging her now, cheater,” Jiung grumbles but Intak doesn’t bother responding, too busy licking his way back into your mouth.

You’d nearly forgotten what this was all for, but none of it brought you nowhere near a clearer decision. Intak’s kiss is mind-numbing but Jiung’s hand is head-spinning in its own way as it trails and caresses over your body before it settles against your thigh.

Your hands are clenched into the sheets at your sides, too afraid to wander into the lion's den that was Intak and Jiung’s rampant hunger. Your legs press together to soothe over the rapidly growing ache in your core, a move that isn’t missed by Jiung as his hand presses into the flesh of your thigh and yanks your legs back open.

“Dirty girl,” he breathes right into your ear before he lets his tongue trace the shell of your ear.

You whimper, a sound that is swallowed right up by Intak’s unrelenting tongue as it basically fucks itself into your mouth.

You’re not sure when it happened but you only become aware that Jiung has snuck his hand up your dress when you feel fingers prodding against your clothed core, right over the growing wet patch on your panties.

You rip away from Intak’s lips with a loud yelp when Jiung’s finger brushes over your throbbing clit.

“Fuck,” Jiung growls, pressing against the spot again that has another sharp spike of pleasure climb through your body, leaving you jerking against the touch. “She’s so fucking wet.”

Intak, who’s dazed from the kiss, snaps back into himself and fumbles to shove his hand up your dress to feel for himself but is quickly stopped by Jiung who grabs his wrist and pulls it back.

“Not yet,” Jiung snaps. You whine a little that the hand is gone, already missing the stimulation. You try to chase for more by subtly rolling your hips down and grinding against the bed for some form of pressure, but then Jiung is grabbing your thigh again and lifting it up so you can’t anymore while shooting you a sharp look. “Not so fast, darling. Gotta let us know how we’re doing, don’t you?”

You curse under your breath, foolish to think you were fully in control of a situation where Jiung was involved. You lick your lips, a motion that both men latch onto as they wait for your answer. You take a few breaths to steel your mind back to focus.

“Kissing goes to Intak,” you start. Intak turns to Jiung with a self satisfied grin, but you continue before he can get a word in. “But Jiung’s better with his hands.”

Despite the way Jiung’s lips tick up into a momentary smirk, he looks unsatisfied.

“So no one’s in the lead yet?” Intak asks, pouting now. It’s even more adorable with his kiss-swollen lips.

You shrug, feigning nonchalance as you lean back onto your elbows. “You still have—“ you glance at the clock, “—fifty minutes. Plenty of time to change my mind.”

Jiung smiles down at you as his hand finds your thigh again. “You said I’m good with my hands,” he starts, that dangerous heat in his eyes returning. “Let me fuck you with them?”

Your thighs twitch to clamp together at his lewd words but his iron grip on your leg doesn’t allow them to.

“What the hell,” Intak cries. “What about me?”

Jiung turns to glare at him. “You’ll get your turn.”

Their attention falls back to you when you shuffle up the bed to lean back against your mountain of pillows.

“Do what you need,” you tell them, trying to come off as unbothered (even though they both clearly know otherwise) and they’re immediately climbing up to join you. You knew your queen-sized bed would come in handy someday.

You can see that both of them are already hard and straining against their jeans but neither of them pay any mind to it. Their sole focus seems to be on you and you can’t say you’re complaining.

Intak is eager as he shucks your dress up to your waist, revealing your navy lace panties damp with arousal, a sight that has both men pausing and momentarily short circuiting. Then Jiung’s hands are reaching for them and yanking them right off of you and then Intak is shoving your legs apart.

“Fuck.” You’re not sure who whispers it but you see Jiung grabbing himself through his jeans, squeezing himself as his eyes lock right onto your gushing heat. Intak looks no less affected as he stares, licking his lips and swallowing down a quiet groan.

You feel both thrilled and too exposed, a confusing feeling that has you wanting them to just get on with it. “Well?” You prod, shuffling to sink a little further into your pillows.

Jiung snaps out of it and moves forward, seating himself in front of your parted legs but angled enough so that he could still show off to Intak who’s still in a daze as he settles down behind Jiung to keep an eye.

“You’re into this,” Jiung teases as he slides two fingers over your slick folds, feather light and avoiding your clit. “Aren’t you?”

Your legs twitch at the first brush of his fingers and you have to fight not to buck up into the touch. “I don’t think any self respecting woman wouldn’t be,” you mumble as you struggle to keep your voice steady.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he says as he swipes his fingers between your folds, firm enough for his fingers to come back with a string of slick connecting to your core.

You want to curse at him for deliberately skipping over your clit but he looks too enamoured by the slick that coats his digits. “Don’t tease,” you warn, though the situation isn’t really in your hands anymore.

Jiung seems all too aware of his advantage as he just smiles devilishly at you. “None of that,” he chides, before letting his middle finger press through your folds and circle teasingly around the outside of your entrance.

“You’re not winning yourself any favour with this,” you try to warn again through laboured breaths. You want to reach down and shove him in or do it yourself if you have to. You hate how much you’re already affected by just a few teasing brushes.

“I think I know what I’m doing,” he says, his deep voice dripping with conceit as he lets his finger tease you for another agonizing moment before he’s pressing it all the way inside in one smooth slide until you can feel the cold of the ring around his finger against your folds.

You gasp, your walls clenching down on his finger that’s long and slim and reaching inside you so deep. He keeps it still in there, lets you writhe for a while before he shows you mercy and then he’s pulling it out all the way and then pushing it back in, starting to pump it in and out of you in a slow rhythm. But it’s enough to feel like everything after all the build up, enough to have you clutching your sheets and breathing heavily.

You see Intak clutching himself over his jeans in a vice grip as he watches Jiung’s finger work in and out of you, the lewd sounds of your slick coating the way in and out the only sound along with your mingled breaths.

Soon, it’s a second finger, and then a third one at that same, torturing speed. His movements are sharp and precise, aimed to bring you as much ruin as possible with each motion. “She just takes me right in,” Jiung mutters as he watches in awe with how quickly your walls accommodate his third finger. You’re not sure if he’s talking to Intak or just himself. You don’t have the mind to pay attention when you’re heaving and whimpering with every brush of his cold rings against your folds each time his fingers sink all the way in.

“Please,” you mumble, your hips bucking up involuntarily in search for more. Your neglected clit throbs with no reprieve. 

“Could probably fuck her right now, no problem,” Intak mumbles, still palming himself through his jeans, denied from relieving himself any further by Jiung for the sake of the game. The game that you wouldn’t play a part in if you knew it would lead to being tortured like this.

You don’t know what it was, whether it was your plea or Intak’s words, that seems to snap Jiung’s patience, and without a warning, he’s fucking his fingers into you at a fast, relentless pace.

You scramble for purchase, your body thrashing at the sudden onslaught of sensation. “J-Jiung!” You yelp, your hips bucking up to meet his thrusts with a mind of their own.

Then he crooks his fingers just right, hitting that spot inside of you, and you feel your body seize up like a taut band, ready to snap any second—

—and then he’s ripping his hand out of you and you cry out at the loss, collapsing down on the bed in a crumpled, gasping mess.

You look up at Jiung in shock, in betrayal, in anguish. “What the fuck?” You snap, but you feel like sobbing, your body crying in search of that denied payoff. You try to clamp your legs together to give your clit some stimulation but Jiung is holding your legs apart, denying you once again.

“Can’t cum just yet, doll,” Jiung says with a smirk that you’d really like to slap off his pretty face. “Wouldn’t be fair to Intak, now would it?”

Intak reanimates when he hears his name and shoves Jiung out of the way so he could take his place. You scowl at Jiung’s too proud face as he settles beside Intak, who’s staring at your core like he wants to devour it whole.

Jiung notices and quickly interjects. “Fingers first,” he says in a patronizing tone that has Intak bristling and glaring at him.

“I know what to do, shut up,” he snaps. Then he’s laser focused on you again and you wither under his intense gaze. You don’t have to plead with him before he’s prodding at your core and bumping against your clit, albeit a little clumsily, but it pools a satisfying heat in your gut so you’re not complaining.

Your legs lock up as he starts to circle your clit with his thumb, sending shocks of pleasure through your body as it finally gets some stimulation. The gasps that leave your lips would normally find you embarrassed but you can’t find yourself caring right now. But then that pressure is gone too fast and instead he’s shoving two fingers inside of you, shorter than Jiung’s but thicker, and pumping them into you at a fast pace right off the bat. Your body trembles from the sudden change, breathy moans spilling from your lips with every thrust of his hand. 

“She’s so wet,” you hear him muse through your haze. He shifts his hand so that the heel of his palm presses against your aching clit with every thrust and you think you might just combust.

But the rhythm is choppier and he can’t quite pinpoint that spot inside of you so it makes the climb up to your peak slower and more frustrating, but the stimulus to your clit along with the rapid in and out of his fingers helps you get up there and you get so close again, right to the edge before Jiung cuts in.

“Not yet,” he says, voice rough with arousal as he watches you gush around Intak’s fingers.

You let out a frustrated cry when Intak pulls his fingers out of you, your body quivering at the loss.

“Poor baby,” Intak coos mockingly before he brings up his slick-coated fingers and slides them into his mouth, sucking them clean off with a satisfied hum. “Taste so sweet.”

You cunt throbs pathetically at the sight. 

“Well?” Jiung says, bringing your attention back to him. “Who was it this time?”

You scowl at him, the one who’s denied you twice now, but the one whose fingers you’re craving to have back inside of you. You don’t want to admit that though, not after he’s tortured you like that. 

Jiung sees your inner turmoil and grins. “Don’t lie, pretty. It’s just gonna be your loss in the end if you do.”

You take a deep breath. How could you keep forgetting?

You face him with a faux saccharine smile, though the way your body still tremors surely undercuts the effect. “It’s you, Jiungie,” you say in a voice that’s just as sweet and just as taunting.

You immediately regret it when his expression shifts with dark glee. You don’t even get time to process what’s happening before he’s shoving his way between your legs, pushing them apart with his hands, and burying his face into your heat. He’s lapping through your folds and flicking his tongue against your swollen bud, before he attaches his lips harshly to your clit

It’s at once that it all comes rushing back and this time it doesn’t stop. It comes and it comes and it comes as you clamp your thighs around his head, push his face further into you with your hand in his hair, and frantically grind your clit against his laving tongue.

Your orgasm slams through you, your body seizing up and your mouth falling open in a silent scream as you feel wave after wave of white hot pleasure roll through you. You’re not sure how long it lasts before you fall back against the bed, heaving and shaking as Jiung licks you through your high and pulls you back down to earth with his fingers digging into your thighs.

You push at his head when the pleasure turns to overstimulation as he keeps licking at you, too brainless to say anything as you lay there and gasp for breath from the intense orgasm.

You’re brought out too quickly from your bubble of bliss by Intak’s seething voice. “What the hell?”

Jiung sits back and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, looking all too pleased with himself. “Hm?”

“That was cheating!”

He quirks his brow, leaning back on his hands as he watches you, admiring the state that he’s left you in. “How so?”

Intak flounders for a moment before he glares at him. “Obviously she’s going to favour you for that, you let her cum.”

Jiung just shrugs, like he couldn’t be bothered since it’s not his problem. If you weren’t still floating out of your body, you might have cut in to mediate. But you’re not sure your voice works right now.

“If you’re so good with your mouth,” Jiung says as he shuffles out of the way. “Make her cum again on your tongue.”

Intak keeps Jiung under his ire for a moment longer than you think is necessary, quietly cursing him with his eyes. But he takes to the challenge, shifting his focus back to you.

You squirm under his gaze. “Can I get a minute?” You ask, your breaths slowly evening out.

He lowers himself down to you, laying on his stomach as he pries open your legs again. “I don’t really want to wait,” he admits, hovering over your cunt.

Your hips jolt when his breath brushes over your clit as he speaks, even just that small sensation overwhelming your sensitive nerves. He catches that and grins, his eyes dropping down to the slick mess that Jiung left behind. He leans closer, and just to be a little shit, blows right against your clit and gets you jerking again, a strangled yelp escaping your lips.

“So sensitive,” Jiung comments teasingly from where he’s sitting at the corner of the bed, brushing his thumb over the outline of his boner through his jeans.

Intak doesn’t take his eyes off of your cunt as he scolds Jiung to, “Stay out of it,” before he’s turning his head and pressing his lips against your inner thigh.

You take a shaky breath at the heat that spreads up to your core when he nips at the sensitive flesh there. The heat grows with each kiss he plants as he makes his way up but stops just before he can make contact with your twitching cunt and switches over to pay the same attention to your other thigh. He buries his lips in the nook between your inner thigh and pelvis and bites the flesh there, sending a jolt of electricity straight to your overworked clit.

“Taki,” you mumble, feeling yourself already growing needy again under his ministrations.

Intak makes a noise in the back of his throat at the nickname. “Still need a minute?” He asks cockily into the side of your folds. He’s doing everything just to give you something without giving you anything and you’re starting to feel that tension in your gut return.

You card your hand through his hair gently which gets his eyes to flit up to yours. You hold his eyes with yours, give him a small smile, then you grab a fistful of his hair and tug sharply.

Intak’s eyes roll back as his mouth falls open in a deep moan, the reaction going straight to your head and making you dizzy. He blinks his gaze back to you when you loosen your grip, but his eyes are left a little dazed. He holds your eyes for a moment, his tongue flicking out to lick his lower lip as he reels himself back, his cheeks reddening. 

He looks sheepish for a moment. But then he's using his thumbs to pry apart your folds and he’s leaning in and dragging the flat of his tongue firmly against your cunt from the base all the way to your clit, his eyes rolling back again. The taste of you gets a guttural groan from him and you feel the bass of it against you, your hips jerking away from the touch to your overstimulated clit which leaves like a burn. But that doesn’t stop Intak; one taste wasn’t enough and he won’t stop until he’s sated.

“So good,” he mumbles before he buries his tongue between your folds, licking up the slick that’s starting to gather pool with whatever was left from before. He moans into you and brings your thighs over his shoulders as he continues to drink you up. “S’fuckin’ good.”

Your breaths are harder to keep in as you involuntarily buck up into his mouth, trying to push away but chase for more at the same time. You squirm where you lay at the onslaught of sensations, all sharp breaths and whimpers. Your eyes fall onto Jiung who’s watching where Intak is burying himself into you with dark eyes and his palm digging onto his hardened length. You’re not sure if you’re too pleasure drunk but you think you see his eyes on Intak rather than where he’s mouthing at you.

Your attention is brought back to Intak when his lips attach to your swollen clit and you feel the rapid flicks of the tip of his tongue against it. You cry out, your hand digging harder into his head, pushing him farther into you but he seems all too eager to suffocate himself in your cunt.

The burn is fading from pain to pleasure now as Intak continues earnestly sucking at you. You can see through the fog that he’s starting to half heartedly grind himself into the mattress, a sight that sends your head spinning for a moment. He detaches from your clit with a final flick of his tongue before he diverts to your entrance, licking up the fresh wave of arousal that’s pooled there. He groans at the taste, the vibrations from his tongue sending you squirming. “Taste so good,” he groans again before he digs his tongue inside and starts to fuck you rapidly with it in single minded focus, his eyes falling closed as he gives all of himself into it.

You roll your hips in tandem with his tongue, fucking yourself up onto it with your thighs clamping against the sides of his head. A moan rips out of you when you feel the tip of his nose rubbing against your clit with every movement, and that’s what starts to bring your next orgasm barrelling through you in mere moments. It comes faster than you expect, quicker than the first, rushing through you before you can prepare for it.

“Intak!” You yell as you come, your upper body springing up off the bed as your climax rips through you. Intak tries to press himself even further in as he licks you up, not letting a single drop slip past him as you gush onto his tongue. Your hand stays buried in his hair as you grind up against his face while he grunts and moans as he drinks you all up and brings you through your high.

You collapse back down, gasping for air as your thighs release his head, and your hips start to buck away from him as you teeter into overstimulation again. Intak slowly detaches from you with a soft kiss to your aching clit, rising up on his elbows.

And the sight of him— cheeks flushed, mouth covered in your slick, and eyes dazed and far away as he stares at your twitching folds like he had genuinely gotten drunk off the taste of you— has you clenching around nothing.

You feel yourself freeze when his eyes flick up to yours, hunger still rampant behind the haze as he pants for air.

Then he’s looking away from you and back at Jiung, who’s watching Intak a little stunned with his mouth slightly agape, his hand still tightly grasping himself through his dark jeans. He bristles out of his stupor when Intak looks at him, a red tinge flushing over his pale cheeks.

“How’s that for good?” Intak asks cockily, voice rough like he’s the one who went through it.

Jiung blinks and steels his expression to an unreadable, neutral one. “Not for me to decide, is it?” He says as he glances up at you.

It takes a second for you to catch on. Intak sits back and you press your legs together, sitting up and shuffling back further to sit against the headboard. You try not to wince and tremble as you do but you’re still feeling the tremors of the aftermath and it doesn’t get past Intak and Jiung as they watch you.

“So?” Jiung urges. “Who is it?”

You glance between the two of them, chewing on your lower lip. “Intak gets that one,” you say, and Jiung surprisingly doesn’t seem affronted by that, rather nods like he’d been expecting it.

Intak grins but it doesn’t stay for long. “Wait. That makes us tied again.”

You swallow, nodding. “I guess it does.” You try to convince yourself that you’re not just prolonging this for your own pleasure; but when you think harder, you really can’t choose who you prefer. 

“Well the only thing left is for us to fuck you,” Jiung says and Intak’s eyes light up again.

“Nope,” you say immediately, ignoring the way your core pulses in interest at the thought of having them, both of them, inside you. Letting them both have you wouldn’t solve your problem, no matter how tempting it is; it might just make things worse. You can’t even imagine the chaos that might ensue if you had to split your time for both of them while also keeping them satisfied.

Intak nearly whines. “What? How else are we supposed to keep going then?”

“I could use four fingers this time,” Jiung offers.

“Nope,” you say again, smiling a little at their growing frustration. Your smile widens as an idea comes to you, one that’s probably taking things a little too far and probably unfair, but one that’s far more tempting than having both of them. “I have an idea.”

Jiung narrows his eyes at you. “I don’t trust that smile.”

“You probably shouldn’t.”

Intak groans, reaching over to tug impatiently at your ankle. “Just tell us.”

You tilt your head, letting your eyes rake over the both of them, pausing on Jiung as a smirk plays on your lips. You can’t ignore the way you noticed Jiung watching Intak, so really, you wouldn’t be completely over the line proposing this, even if it was largely for your own entertainment. But they seem willing enough to do what it takes for you and it’s just too tempting to not take advantage of that. Well, that's what you’ve already been doing so far. What’s a little more?

“I want to make this a little more interesting,” you say, smoothing your dress down to cover yourself up. “Whoever can make the other cum first, wins.”

The next few moments are silent as they stare at you, trying to make sense of the words that have just come out of your mouth. You try to smother your smirk but fail, thrilled and satisfied with the way they’re both left speechless. If this is a battle between them both, what better way than to settle this by defeating the other?

When the proposition finally processes for Jiung, he glares at you. But you don’t miss the way the red on his cheeks deepen to a crimson. “What kind of idea is that?”

You shrug, your smirk pulling into a wide grin. “A fair one. If you want to back out, you can. But that means Intak wins.”

Jiung’s scowl deepens. Intak blinks rapidly as it seems to finally click for him. But he doesn’t complain like you expected he might have; he just goes silent as he turns his head to stare at Jiung.

They’re in another one of their silent conversations but the air feels charged with something else now, something heavier.

Jiung’s jaw tightens as his gaze hardens on Intak, warning. “Don’t,” he says quietly.

But Intak’s eyes only fall to Jiung’s lips, tongue flicking over his own subconsciously. The motion gets Jiung’s attention and his expression falters just a little. Intak catches that and takes the opportunity, lurching forward to grab the collars of Jiung’s shirt and crush their lips together. Jiung’s hands fly up to clutch Intak’s wrists, tensing up all over under Intak’s grasp.

You can only watch with bated breath as Intak pulls back to look down at Jiung, an unrelenting fire in his eyes as he waits for some sort of response. When Jiung does nothing, he shuffles over to settle on Jiung’s lap, straddling him.

Jiung swallows as his resolve cracks a little more, looking up at Intak with a look that’s more conflicted now, hesitant and like he’s having to control himself. You don’t miss the way his Adam’s apple bobs with a rough swallow, the way his blush climbs up his ears and down his neck, the way his fingers dig into Intak’s wrists but don’t push.

“C’mon, hyung,” you hear Intak whisper, shifting to align his hips right above Jiung’s. He glances over to the clock on the wall, the one you probably should have been keeping a closer eye on. “We don’t have much time.” You can’t be bothered to check the clock to see if that’s actually true, your gaze is glued to the scene playing out in front of you, in your bed, like some sort of fucked up fetish fantasy come to life.

Jiung takes in a sharp breath and parts his lips to let it out as a quiet grunt, his brows furrowing in concentration. It’s that stubbornness in him that’s taking rein in spite of what he actually wants, what he seems to crave more now than anything.

But then Intak is rolling his hips down in a pointed grind and all resolve is thrown out the window as Jiung crashes his lips to Intak’s in a hard, demanding kiss.

Intak fights back just as hard, because it’s more of a battle than it is a kiss, and Jiung moves one hand to dig into Intak’s hair before pulling hard. 

Intak whimpers as his head is yanked back, exposing the expanse of his neck that Jiung immediately wraps his free hand around to squeeze and cut off blood flow.

You’re left breathless when Intak seems to immediately crumble under Jiung’s hands, letting out a choked moan as his eyes roll back, lips parting with ragged breaths. Like they’re disconnected from his thoughts and any sense of control, his hips buck frantically against Jiung’s like he’s doing anything he can to prolong every bit of pleasure rushing to his head. 

Jiung seems just as taken aback with how quickly Intak submits under his touch, but that shock quickly shifts into hunger, hot and eager as he grinds his hips up, making Intak let out another needy whine.

“Fuck,” Jiung breathes before he’s letting go only to push Intak onto his back and climb on top of him, straddling him and grinding his cock right down onto Intak’s boner.

Intak yelps out in pleasure. “H-Hyung!” He gasps, his hands scrambling to find purchase on Jiung’s hips as Jiung rewraps his hand around his throat, holding him down as he repeats the motion in hurried, unrelenting movements.

Jiung looks unbelievable; his brows pinched with concentration, his jaw working over grit teeth as he tries to fight against the grunts slipping through his own lips, the thin sheen of sweat clinging to his skin and giving him an unearthly glow. His eyes are impossibly dark as he focuses on Intak’s face, drinking in every little reaction he’s getting from the boy, the very one he’s been spitting fire back and forth with for months now, reduced to nothing but a whining, writhing mess under his very hands.

Intak looks just as unreal; his face completely blissed out and twitching with every shock of pleasure, eyes glazed over and teary as they look reverently up at Jiung, plush lips parted as he pants, his own hips bucking up pathetically but being overwhelmed by Jiung’s stronger ones, being pressed into the mattress by them as he’s helpless to do anything but take it all for once with no space to fight back.

You’re breathless as you watch them, the sight and sounds of their breaths and moans making you heady with another wave of arousal, an even stronger one this time around. You have to clamp your thighs to relieve that throbbing that’s persisting in your core.

Intak suddenly scrambles to grab onto Jiung’s arm that’s holding him down by the neck, making pathetic little whines as his body trembles and jerks under Jiung. You can tell by the panicked look in his eye that he’s nearing the edge and won’t last much longer.

Jiung doesn’t miss it; he never misses anything. “What’s wrong?” He asks, tone taunting, emphasizing it with a hard grind over Intak’s cock. His voice is rough and gravelly through laboured breaths, a sound that goes right to your core. “Where’s your fight, Taki?”

Intak whimpers and thrashes under him, a small tear hanging precariously off the corner of his eye. “P-Please!” He pants. 

“Please what?” Jiung scowls, tightening his hand around his throat that has Intak’s jaw dropping and eyes rolling back. He laughs coldly at the pathetic whine that Intak lets out when he loosens his hand again. “Don’t worry, I’ll let you watch while I fuck her.”

Intak lets out a grunt of protest, seeming too blissed out and overwhelmed to form words anymore. His nails dig into Jiung’s exposed forearm, whether to brace himself or as retaliation, you don’t know.

Jiung seems unphased as he leans down to whisper into his ear, but you catch the words regardless, and the command in his voice nearly has you reacting.

“Just as long as you just come for me.”

The next moment seems to pause in frame as Intak goes completely silent and his body freezes up. Jiung takes the opportunity and rolls his hips down, hard, and that has Intak wailing as his entire body jerks so hard that it nearly has Jiung toppling off. But Jiung stays planted on, doubling down and rocking Intak through his orgasm as the boy practically sobs through it, trembling with it before going completely boneless, his arms dropping at his sides, his jaw going slack as he pants, his eyes going faraway again, the tear at his eye finally making its way down.

All Jiung can do is stare down at Intak as he slows to a stop, his hand loosening around his throat but staying put. The only sound is Intak’s ragged breaths, Jiung’s deep, stable ones, and your stuttering ones as you try to keep ahold of your sanity.

You watch as Jiung watches Intak, savouring the state of mess he’s left him in. Then Jiung’s eyes are snapping up to yours and you nearly flinch from the intensity of them. His gaze is everything Jiung encompasses— calculating, authoritative, demanding— but dialed to eleven.

His smile is wolfish and downright terrifying as he commands, “Dress off, sweetheart.”

You find yourself complying without a second thought, slipping your dress off with limbs that don’t quite feel like yours. Jiung’s hands are on you within seconds and he’s throwing you down onto your stomach with rough and hurried movements. You perch yourself up to your hands and find that you’re facing where he’d left Intak laid out at the foot of your bed.

Intak is blinking slowly like he’s regaining consciousness and then looking at you, eyes still faraway as he watches with growing interest.

You don’t get much time to worry about him before you feel Jiung’s hand sliding up the length of your spine, warm and rough with use against your bare skin, before stopping between your shoulder blades and pushing down. You follow the guide of his hand, bracing yourself down on your elbows as you arch your hips up to him.

You feel filthy in this position, nerves crackling hot up your spine with anticipation and a bit of fear in tandem. But you find yourself feeling like you belong just like this, right now, for Jiung. It was well earned anyway.

Jiung’s hand slides back slowly, drawing out a shaky breath from you as he unhooks your bra along the way before he’s holding your hips, yanking you back into him so that your exposed core slams against the hard arch of his clothed cock.

You whimper when you feel the pressure of the rough fabric against your sensitive folds, immediately pushing your hips back to grind your clit against the denim, the roughness providing delicious stimulation.

Jiung tsk’s behind you as he pulls his hips back from you. “Impatient,” he mutters but then you’re hearing him undo his belt and zipper and then you’re feeling the blunt head of his cock slide between your folds, hot and heavy and pulsing against you as he collects slick. A deep groan escapes him at the contact, the sound reverberating in your skull and intertwining with the pleasure-induced fog.

“Looks like you are too,” you mutter despite your own eagerness as you try to push back again and hook him inside you.

He takes a sharp breath and grabs your hip with one hand, roughly pushing you away. But then he curses to himself and gives in, no doubt pent up from, well, everything, as he shoves himself inside your warm walls with a strained curse, burying himself to the hilt in one go.

Your gasp at the stretch of him, long and curved, as he grinds himself as deep as he can go. You clutch at your sheets, your breath stuck in your throat as you adjust to his size while he struggles to keep himself still with both his hands like iron on your hips.

He plasters himself against your back, grunting into your ear. “Still so fucking tight.” One of his hands comes up to slide under your bra that you didn’t bother to slip off and just hangs loosely off of you, grabbing a handful of your breast and squeezing hard.

You whine at the sharp pain, your walls clenching down on his length that gets another strained grunt out of him. He latches onto your neck with his mouth, breathing roughly into your skin.

“Jiung,” you whine as he tugs at your nipple with his fingers and leaves biting kisses down your shoulder. You rock your hips back, your core burning, pulsing, craving for stimulation. “Move.”

He chuckles lowly into your neck and rocks his rips once, the slightest of movement. “Like that?”

You drop your head with a frustrated groan. “Seriously?” You snap. “How are you still being a teasing little shit?”

You should’ve learned your lesson by now not to provoke him if you want things to go your way. But after everything tonight, all the edging and the stringing along and the waiting, you just wanted this one simple thing; to be fucked right. But you regret your words when you feel his arm snake around your throat and he’s straightening up on his knees, pulling you up with your back plastered to his chest, his cock shifting inside of you at the new angle.

You scramble to raise up with him with a panicked gasp, bracing your hands on his forearm and pushing so he doesn’t choke you with his tight hold. You squirm in his grip, his satin shirt rustling against your back at the movement.

“What do you think, Taki?” You hear him say beside your ear. “Should I give her what she wants?”

Your eyes snap down to meet Intak’s which are already looking up at you with rampant attention. It’s only then that you notice that he’s already straining against the dark spot on his jeans again.

He takes one look at your pleading gaze and breathes out shakily, putting a hand over himself and palming down. “Yes,” he answers with a ragged voice.

Jiung hums and squeezes his arm around your neck, your hands doing nothing against his strength, as he whispers in your ear. “Your lucky day.” He presses a deceptively soft kiss to your ear before he’s roughly pushing you back down to your elbows and grabbing your hips again. 

You don’t get the chance to thank the heavens for Intak before Jiung is pounding into you hard enough to have you nearly bucking into Intak with every rough thrust, his tight grip on your hips keeping you from toppling out of his control.

You scramble for purchase, one hand finding the sheets and the other finding Intak’s arm. Your moans are fucked out of you along with every other thought in your brain as Jiung carves himself into your pulsing walls, going harder with every frantic thrust.

It’s not long before he’s got you teetering on the edge with every push of his cock against that gummy spot inside of you. Your face is pushed against the bed with Jiung’s hand holding your head down, your bleary eyes locked onto Intak’s as he desperately fists himself, when you hear a loud wave of cheers sounding from the ground floor.

Jiung plasters himself against your back again, bringing one hand down to rub tight circles over your clit as he pushes you right to the edge.

“Happy New Year, sweetheart,” he whispers in your ear, and then has you toppling over the edge, bringing himself right down with you.

You’re left there boneless and dripping with Jiung when you see from the corner of your eye as he and Intak share a secret smile, leaving you to wonder distantly through the fucked-out haze if maybe you’d fallen into a trap you didn’t realize was laid out from the first hello.

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소울. SOUL

© r3chas ⭑.ᐟ do not reupload / copy my work

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THEO ꜜ

keeho’s polar opposite. lover of all things involving your chest. he wants to grab and lick and kiss and suck you, to know what your nipples feel like, if they’re sensitive, if you like having them played with. he loves it whenever you wear tight shirts, but he also loves it when you wear a shirt with no bra underneath. pretends he’s not staring but he’s so obvious all the time that you’ve just gotten used to it. ꜜ

you jolt, nearly dropping the glass in your hands as you feel someone creep up behind you, but you relax the second theo opens his mouth to reassure you it’s just him.

“dumbass,” you grumble. “you scared the hell out of me.”

he laughs softly, resting his chin on your shoulder. “sorry. didn’t mean it.”

“yeah, whatever. move already, i’m thirsty.”

he doesn’t move. not out of your way, anyway. instead, he presses his body closer to yours, pinning you to the counter. his hands, which had been stationary on your hips, push up past the hem of your shirt and slowly creep higher. his fingertips trace against the underside of your breasts, and you feel him sigh softly against your skin.

“i love it whenever you don’t wear a bra, you know,” he says, voice so quiet like it’s some sacred secret he wasn’t even supposed to share with you. “so perfect. been wanting this for a while…”

tired of denying himself, he cups your boobs in his hands, softly pinching your nipples, soaking in the breathy sigh you let out in response—he could get used to this.

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JIUNG ꜜ

the second most pathetic tbh. he’s just down bad for you in general but his favorite thing about you by far is your voice. like it’s embarrassing how hard he gets listening to you. sometimes he can’t even pay attention to what you’re saying because he’s focusing too much on not popping a boner right in front of you. he always calls you at night because he likes the way you sound when you’re kind of tired and may or may not be jerking off the whole time… he’ll never tell. ꜜ

“so then i got all wet and rained on because i forgot my umbrella. but it’s not my fault, it wasn’t supposed to rain until tomorrow, y’know?”

at this point, whatever you’re talking about is getting filtered out by jiung’s brain, and the only part he’s registering is how you sound. all quiet and tired, not to mention annoyed because of whatever inconvenience happened to you that he is definitely aware of. maybe. “ah… mhm, yeah. that sounds… fuck—that sounds awful. and then what happened?”

you pause your rambling, pulling the phone away from your ear for a moment before bringing it back. “…are you okay?”

shit. you’re onto him.

“yeah. ‘course i am. why… mmm… why wouldn’t i be?”

“are you not hearing yourself right now, jiung?”

he huffs, his irritation at not being able to get off overpowering the embarrassment of you getting closer to catching onto him. “i’m fine! just keep talking. i told you i’m listening!” he doesn’t mean to sound so rude, but he can’t keep holding himself back anymore. if he doesn’t cum right now, he thinks he might just lose it.

“…fine, bossy. anyway, like i was saying—”

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INTAK ꜜ

he’s a panty stealer. and sniffer. and licker. like you can’t tell me he doesn’t get off on the risk and the adrenaline rush it gives him. it’s so wrong and dirty, and he knows that, but he can’t bring himself to stop. he always brings them back with the exception of the ones he knows you wear the most and therefore smell the most like you. the most pathetic puppy ever. ꜜ

this is the fourth time this week. the fourth time intak stole a pair of your panties. the fourth time he’s holed himself up in his room, touching himself while he thinks about you wearing them. and he knows it won’t be the last.

“i’m sorry…” he mumbles out to no one in particular as his hand moves up and down his aching, over-sensitive cock. it hurts, he’s sticky, and tired, but he can’t bring himself to stop just yet. he needs to make the most out of this before he returns them in exchange for another pair. “‘m sorry, ‘m sorry… i’m a bad boy…”

in his other hand, he holds the flimsy, lacy fabric tightly, too afraid to loosen his grip for even a second. he brings it up to his face, taking a deep, shuddering inhale before his tongue darts out to lick it.

he can feel his orgasm building up again, tears spilling from the corners of his eyes as he nears the edge once again. but will he stop? no, of course not. not until the guilt evaporates and he’s milked completely dry.

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SOUL ꜜ

soul has great timing. great for him, awful for you. you can’t even count the amount of times he’s walked in on you in all sorts of compromising situations. when you’re fresh out of the shower and still wrapped up in a towel, or when you’re changing clothes… basically any time you’d be wearing little to nothing. he apologizes every time, and yet it keeps happening. so weird… ꜜ

shota presses his ear to the wall, listening to the sounds of the running water. you’re still in the shower, and it’s doing nothing good for his imagination. he can only wonder what you look like in there, washing yourself, rubbing the soap all over your naked body, the water running over every nook and cranny…

the second the sound comes to a stop, he backs away from the wall, lingering in place for a moment before opening the door, just in time to see your face as your expression goes from surprised to half-hearted irritation.

“shota!” you groan, pulling your towel tighter around your body. it’s supposed to act as a shield, but it’s only giving him a better outline of your figure. “can’t you at least wait until i’m out of the bathroom to barge in?”

he giggles, and the sound alone is enough to absolve him from all your annoyance.

“sorry.” he says it simply out of courtesy, not because he actually feels sorry. how could he, when you look so good like this? still dripping wet, the only barrier keeping him from seeing what you look like completely exposed being a towel? and it’d be so easy, wouldn’t it? to just snatch it away, and see for himself.

but he won’t. not yet. not today. he thinks he’ll fantasize a bit more before goes through with the real thing.

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JONGSEOB ꜜ

he gets so worked up whenever you’re nice to him and give him compliments. like ever since he said he wanted to explore a more feminine style and grew his hair out he really likes hearing that you think he looks pretty or that his outfit is cute. feels so dirty because you’re genuinely just being sweet and he’s getting hard… poor thing. ꜜ

“you know, i’m kind of glad you dyed your hair blond again.” you mumble, absentmindedly carding your fingers through jongseob’s hair. “i always thought it suited you. especially now that you’re letting it get long. you look pretty.”

jongseob can’t fight the shiver that wracks his spine at that word.

pretty. you thought he looked pretty.

something so simple shouldn’t be having this big of an effect on him, and yet he can already feel that familiar fire in his gut, threatening to spread and consume him whole.

he manages a smile, small and strained, and hopes you don’t notice how much he’s shifting around in your bed, trying to hide his growing erection. “thanks…”

you smile back, mumbling something back in response. jongseob doesn’t manage to catch all of it, just the ending.

“pretty boy.”

that does it.

he scrambles off of the bed like a frightened animal, much to your shock. “seob? where are you going?!”

“just, um… bathroom!” he yells back, followed by the sound of the door slamming shut. leaning against the door, he exhales, reaching down to palm his bulge. his gaze travels over to the mirror, reflecting his own flushed face and heaving chest.

“pretty,” he whispers. “so, so pretty.”

“I just don’t get— ah, fuck!— why he would lie about being on a break.” Your voice comes breathy, breaking between your sentence when he gives your clit a harsh suck.

You’ve been yammering on and on about the guy you’ve been seeing for the past few weeks, a total dickwad in Soul’s honest opinion, but a guy that you took a strong liking to for some reason. You were so worked up about this guy and his half-truths that you had to park your car halfway to the theatre you were both heading to for the new Frankenstein movie, and detail to Soul the new twists and turns about your latest situation-ship. Something about a guy who said he was on a break with his girlfriend and was looking for some fun but turns out wasn’t really on a break.

Soul found it so nonsensical that he had to cut in and offer you some stress relief to which you’d agreed and climbed into the backseat.

It’s not an uncommon occurrence in your friendship. You’re close friends before anything else, supportive to no ends and fiercely loyal. Close enough to where at some point along the way, you’d offered to help each other through days when you’re pent up with nowhere to go. It’s often that he finds himself buried between your legs after your long shifts or you’re on his knees for him backstage at a show between stages. It’s for convenience, you told him, nothing more.

But as the story goes, he caught feelings and now he’s itching for more than quickies in a closet or a corner. Like dates and picnics and all that stuff he sees in Keeho’s romance dramas.

But you’re keen on playing the field and keeping your options open while simultaneously looking for something more than to just keep you occupied. He doesn’t know how to tell you you’re looking in all the wrong places. It’s irritating above anything else to see you pining after idiots who could never make you feel as good or as cherished as he does. But he plays the loyal friend you signed up for, and he does it well. He’s practically at your beck and call.

And now he’s got your legs thrown over his shoulders, fingers digging into your plush thighs to hold them apart, while he drowns himself in your heat, giving you everything he’s got to take your mind off of that guy.

Yet you still can’t seem to let it go. He’s giving it his all, fucking you with his tongue the way you like, teasing you with the tips of his fingers in the way that gets you squirming, but still, you’re stuck on him.

He lifts his head, not bothering to hide his annoyed expression. “You’re still talking about this?” He asks, only feeling a tiny bit bad that his voice comes off snippy.

You blink a few times before looking down at him. “Shit, you’re right,” you say, carding your hand through his hair. He has to fight the urge to practically purr as your nails scratch gently into his scalp. “I just— he kinda sucks doesn’t he?” You pout and he’s overwhelmed with the urge to kiss it off your face. But that’s something you don’t do; kissing. It’s a silent line you’d both drawn to keep yourselves from crossing boundaries into the unknown.

“I told you he was bad news,” he mumbles, relenting when your hand pushes his head back down, and attaches his lips back over your swollen bud.

Your thighs twitch where they’re thrown over his shoulders, your hand clamping down a little harder in his hair. “Yeah I should’ve, mm, listened to you.” You’re gasping through your words now. “I just don’t get why he lied. Apparently they were in an open relationship the whole time so why— fuck!”

You’re cut off when he shoves two fingers inside of you. He feels triumphant when he looks up to see your lip caught between your teeth, brows furrowed, blissed out expression on your face as your focus falls fully to the way he scissors his fingers and fucks them into you.

He’s not sure what it was, whether it was the way your hand was gently cradling his head or the way you were looking down at him like he was the single focus in your orbit, that gave him the sudden surge of confidence to say it.

He lifts off of you, licking the slick off his lip as he says, “I wouldn’t lie to you.”

Your expression falters as you take in the words through your haze, a little stunned but fond. The next moment is silent as his fingers inside of you still, the only sound your heavy breathing in twine with his.

“Yeah,” you say, your hand sliding down to brush your thumb against his cheek. “You wouldn’t.”

His eyes flutter at the touch. He wants to turn his head and take that thumb in his mouth then tell you that he could treat you better than that asshole—

“You’re a good friend, Shota.”

—until he remembers himself, remembers his place in your orbit, and crooks his fingers to press right against your g-spot to steer you, and him, away from this terrible moment. He lets your thighs clamp down on his head and lets you ride his face to completion, wishing he hadn’t opened his mouth at all unless it was to fuck you with it.

𓆩⟡𓆪

The second time he gets caught up in the moment and tries to confess to you is when he’s laid on your lap in his bedroom with a romance movie playing on his laptop and your hand down his sweats, stroking him languidly.

He’d gotten hard during a raunchy scene of the movie, embarrassingly enough, but you were sweet enough to offer a helping hand. He likes it slow and unhurried in situations like these, when there’s nowhere to be and nothing to worry about. He likes getting strung up, the slow build to a rapid release. And you do just that for him; your hand wrapped loosely around his girth, stroking him slow and steady with your eyes on the laptop. He tries to keep his eyes on the movie but his focus breaks whenever you squeeze your hand around his tip with every upstroke.

You look pretty with the dim light casting shadows on you at just the right angles; it makes him want to take a picture or kiss you dumb. He feels himself twitch in your hand at the thought of finally making you his, and you glance his way when you feel it, small smirk forming on your lips when you see that he’s already looking right at you with his lips parted as ragged breaths escape and eyes wide like he’s enamoured with you. He is. He shouldn’t be.

“Feel good?” You ask, bringing up a couple kernels of popcorn to his mouth with your free hand.

He takes them in his mouth, lets his tongue flick playfully against the tips of your fingers. He giggles when you scrunch your nose in faux disgust then chokes on a moan when you dig your thumb into his tip as retaliation.

“Y-You just…” He starts, then falters when your hand slides down to his base and pauses to let him finish his thought, squeezing gently there as an encouragement. He feels the weight of your gaze, expecting, and it’s hard to describe the way he feels under it but it makes him want to lay himself out raw, let out every thought he’d hidden from you for the past few months out. But he knows better, so all he mutters is a quiet, “You look pretty.”

He’s not sure if it’s a trick of the light or if you’re actually blushing. “Yeah?” You ask, a little abashed, letting your hand resume its lazy pace, tightening just a little but it’s enough to have his hips buck up in response to the change in pressure. “Pretty like the girl that got you hard?” You’re referring to the actress on the screen with a sly little grin that should embarrass him but just makes him want to be the only one who brings those smiles out of you.

“Prettier,” he says honestly, like the truth is dragged out of him as your hand drags up his length. “The prettiest ever.”

He’s not sure what he’s saying. His mind is muddled with just the presence of you, in his bed, for his eyes only in that moment.

Your eyes soften as you look down at him, letting out a breath like it was punched out of you. “Shota,” you whisper, your hand faltering again. Then you’re taking your hand off of him and shuffling out from under him.

He bristles and makes a panicked noise, thinking he’d just scared you away, but then you’re perching between his legs and tugging his sweats and boxers down to his thighs.

“What did I do to deserve you?” Is the last thing you say before your mouth is on him and his brain wipes clean and he’s fucking his feelings out into your throat instead of through words.

𓆩⟡𓆪

The next time he confesses is three months later after you show up to his dorm in tears.

He hasn’t seen you much for the past few weeks, him getting busy with preparations for the new comeback and you getting busy with your new boyfriend. Needless to say, the distance has his heart yearning even harder for you with every step you take farther from him and into the arms of the latest guy he knows is bad news.

So when you show up in a mess of tears and with broken sentences you can’t string together, he welcomes you into his arms like he’s been waiting for the inevitable to happen.

He doesn’t ask you about it as he picks you up in his arms and lets you bury your face in his chest. He walks past a confused Keeho and into his room, kicking the door shut. You cling onto him when he tries to put you down on his bed and refuse to let go, so he just gives into your pull and lays down with you gathered in his arms while you cry away into his shirt.

He feels helpless as he strokes your hair. All he can do is listen to your sobs until they eventually fade into sniffles. Even after you quiet down, he doesn’t prod, lets you decide when you’re ready to talk.

When you do, it’s in a small, quivery voice. “Sorry.”

His hand pauses in your hair and he looks down at you, brows furrowed. “Sorry for what?”

You don’t meet his eyes when you speak, aiming your words to his chest. “For just showing up like this,” you say, lips quivering with the threat of another wave of sobs. He brushes your hair back, cradles your cheek to try and ease it away but your expression still breaks. “I know it’s not fair to just spring this on you out of nowhere especially when we haven’t talked in a while and—“

“Hey,” he interrupts, shuffling himself down so he can level eye-to-eye with you. He presses his forehead to yours, looks you intently in the eye. “You don’t need to apologize for that. Just tell me what’s wrong?”

Your eyes fill with a fresh wave of tears when they finally look up at him. “It’s so stupid though…”

“It’s not stupid if you’re crying,” he says, insistent. “That’s what you told me before.” He can’t count how many times you’ve had to calm him down from his bouts of anxiety in his early debut days. One of the many reasons that led to him ultimately falling for you. He’s just surprised it took so long for him to fall. Maybe he was a goner from the beginning and he just didn’t realize it.

It seems to get through to you though. Your shoulders relax and you let out a deep, shaky breath. “It was Jun,” you start. Your boyfriend; he could’ve guessed all this was his fault without you having to say it. He just wonders what type of assholery you had to put up with this time. “We were… getting intimate.” You fidget as you explain, avoiding his eyes again, uncharacteristically embarrassed. “He just wasn’t into it I guess. I wasn’t, like, doing it for him or whatever,” you say quickly. “I-I don’t remember much of it honestly but he said something like maybe if I didn’t have the weight…” You falter as those tears start to fall.

Soul feels his blood run cold with rage. “He said that to you?” His voice sounds icy, foreign even to himself.

You glance up at him in the middle of a sob, eyes coloured with shock. He’s not one to get angry, not like this. It’s not a side of himself he’s familiar with but he’s happy to let it out if it means he gets to throw hands to the asshole who hurt you like this.

“It’s fine,” you say, quickly wiping your eyes. “It’s not that big of a deal. I was just embarrassed, that’s all.” You wrap your arms around yourself, like you’re shielding yourself away.

“Listen to me,” he starts, lifting himself up and rolling you onto your back. You watch him with wondering eyes as he rolls on top of you, his hands braced on either side of you so he can hover above. “I don’t know what’s wrong with that guy. Just because his tiny dick can’t function doesn’t mean it’s your fault. He doesn’t deserve you.”

The anger in him cracks and subsides just a little when he sees the corner of your lips twitch up for a split second. You try to avoid his gaze again but he takes your chin with one hand, fixing your eyes back on him.

“You are…” He trails off, fumbling for words before he curses. “You deserve so much more than what those assholes could ever give you. More than everything they ever gave you, combined.”

There’s that pout back on your lips, confused and kissable. “Deserve more… Like what?” You ask, wide eyes still looking up at him, still pained but just a little wanting. Searching for reassurance, validation maybe, but whatever it was that you wanted he’d give it all in a heartbeat.

“I’m not good at words,” he admits, lowering himself down to you. “Let me show you?”

That’s how you end up in your best friend’s bed, stripped bare in front of him for the first time ever as his hands and lips roam every inch of your skin, worshipping you. It takes everything in you not to hide away behind your arms or try to avoid his gaze, feeling especially exposed with him fully clothed and you very much not.

But he doesn’t let you hide, pulls you back to him whether it’s with his hands on your hips, pinning your wrists down, lips on your cheek, hand on your chin. He makes you watch all of it. As he runs his hands down your chest, caressing the mounds. “You’re so perfect,” he mutters as he places a kiss on each of the soft peaks before taking one in his mouth, swirling his tongue around it until it hardens under his ministrations. “Fucker doesn’t realize what he has. Doesn’t deserve you,” he grumbles, more to himself than to you, as he works on the other side. All the while his palms run down your sides before sliding back up, slow and warm.

You’re squirming and breathless already but you know he’s only just begun.

He trails kisses down your chest to your abdomen, fluttery and light, with little nips of his teeth which he soothes down with a flick of his tongue. Down your naval, along your hip, then your thigh down to your ankle. All while he runs his nails gently down the valleys of your skin, down your lower belly, down your inner thigh, palm running down your calf, squeezing appreciatively as they go. Then he switches to your other leg with every bit of attention as the first. Soft murmurs of praise leave his lips as he gets lost in you. He pauses at your inner thighs on the way back up to pay special attention to the sensitive skin there.

“Love them,” he mumbles as he digs his fingers into the plush flesh, trailing biting kisses up the sensitive skin that are surely going to leave marks. He nearly reaches your aching core before pulling back and switching to the other thigh, ignoring your hips as they buck up in search for him to pay attention to where you need him most.

He doesn’t go there just yet. He makes his way back up, trails his hands firmly up the curves of your body all the way back up. He drags his lips along your neck as they make their way up to your ear. “Love every bit of you,” he whispers, breathless like it was him under this intimate scrutiny. He settles himself between your legs before he grinds his hips down, angling so that he can press his clothed bulge right against your core. “See what you do to me?” He asks with a breathy groan.

You let out a quiet whimper, your legs caging around his waist instinctively. “Shota,” you gasp as your hips involuntarily roll up to press against him again.

He gets a little lost in the heat of you through his sweats, lets his hips chase more of those sharps spikes of pleasure. He can’t stop here. He needs to show you just how much you ruin him, wants to ruin you just the same. Wants to prove to you that he’s every bit of everything you’re looking for.

There’s no bit of hesitation this time as he takes his shot. “Let me?” He asks you with another pointed roll of his hips. “Let me show you what you deserve.”

He knows this is a boundary you’ve never crossed before in efforts to preserve your friendship. But now more than anything, he wants to take that step. Any hesitations he’s had about ruining the friendship are out the window. Even if this shatters everything he’s built together with you, he’ll do it if he gets to show you exactly what you deserve before he’s kicked to the curb.

He sees it in the way your eyes flick between his as you consider the weight of what he’s asking from you. Eventually, with a shaky breath, you nod.

Then he’s shedding his clothes and opening you up, prepping you with three of his long, skilled fingers. Every move he makes is done with enough care and precision to bring you the most pleasure, just the way you deserve. With care he’s sure no one has ever shown you before if the look on your face is anything to go by, surprised and awed and completely blissed out already.

“Have they ever done this for you?” He asks you as he pumps his fingers into you slowly, twisting them on their way out. He’s never had more than two of them in and never in such an intimate manner like this; everything before tonight had been just a way for relief, not worship.

You gasp your breaths at the way just his fingers are making you feel so full, reaching depths of you that no one else has managed to touch. “N-No,” you answer, a little embarrassed. “Never really bothered...”

He clicks his tongue and crooks his fingers to press against that gummy spot in your walls. You throw your head back at the sharp spike of pleasure, your hand clutching onto the pillow he’d shoved under your lower back to give him a better angle. “Fuckers,” he mutters and climbs himself down, keeping his fingers buried deep as he lets his breath ghost over your clit. “Should’ve kicked them to the curb right then and there.”

You’re already too far gone to answer when he attaches his lips to your swollen bud. By the time he gets two orgasms out of you with just his mouth and fingers, you’re already a writhing, twitching mess and he still doesn’t look anywhere near finished.

He feels a little smug when he sees you looking up at him all starstruck as he climbs back over you. “They ever make you come more than once?” He asks, lowering onto your chest and sucking one of the hardened peaks into his mouth.

You can’t bring it in you to say the words so you just shake your head, arching yourself up into his mouth.

He makes a noise of annoyance as he pops off your nipple with a flick of his tongue. “You should give them a manual.”

“Are you gonna write it?” You ask in all seriousness and he giggles a little, proud and fond.

“No,” he says, then adjusts his hips so his hardened length slides between your slick folds, without any barriers this time. He shudders at the warmth the stimulation spreads through him. “Don’t want to give away all my secrets.”

You whimper in pain from the pressure against your overstimulated clit and yet your hips buck up to keep chasing the heavy heat of him. He thinks it’s cute how you’re already so dumb that your brain and body are detached and confused.

“You’re just gonna have to come back to me for more, aren’t you?” He asks, a little too high on the power he’s got over you. But then you’re nodding and bucking up against him to try to hook him into your entrance in a frantic search for more and he has to take a deep breath and pull back from tripping over the edge too fast. He’s already painfully hard and he can’t hold himself back much longer, even if this is all about your pleasure.

So he takes ahold of himself and nudges his swollen tip against your entrance, staring into your eyes and searching for any hesitation. When he doesn’t find any, he’s pressing himself into you with a choked groan, his other hand holding your hip down to the mattress. You’re wincing from the stretch of him with your fingers clawing into his arms. You knew he was big; you had to train yourself to take him down your throat but like this, it’s like he’s filling you up everywhere. Even after prepping you with three of his fingers, it still feels like it’s too much.

“Take me so well,” he grunts into your ear, sighing as he bottoms out. You’ve never felt anything so deep, especially when you feel him giving an experimental little thrust to get himself as deep as he can. Even just that small movement makes it feel like he’s tearing you apart from inside out and yet the burn is mind-numbingly good. “They ever fill you up this well?”

You whimper, scrambling to find purchase by digging your nails into his back. “N-No… feel so full,” you slur, eyes blurring with tears. “Fill me up so good, Shota.”

Soul nearly comes right then and there. He knows he won’t last much longer so he plants his hands on your hips in a tight grip and starts fucking into you with hard, deep thrusts that have you bucking up the mattress.

Your mouth falls open with silent moans as your eyes roll back, each thrust feeling like a burst of electric heat searing through your core. Soul wants to keep you just like this forever, fucked out and slack jawed all because of him.

He leans down to you, gripping your jaw with one hand and pressing his forehead down to yours to say the words practically into your mouth. “That’s what I thought,” he says through grit teeth, grunting from the way your walls pulse with each thrust to try and swallow him in.

But he’s more focused on the way your lips are so close. He could close the distance right then and he knows you won’t push him away. But he can’t. It’s not his decision to make.

So instead he slides two of his fingers through your pretty lips to sate that itch just a little, sliding them deep enough to make you gag before he slides them out and spreads the spit over your lips.

“Shota,” you whimper, wet breaths fanning against his digits. “S’good. F-Feel so— fuck!— so good!”

His hips falter for a second at the way you’re moaning his name, feeling like his brain might genuinely break from hearing your sweet voice calling out to him like that. Then he’s grabbing your thighs and folding them into the mattress and then fucking you again with a new, relentless vigour that has the bed frame slamming repeatedly against the wall. “Yeah?” He breathes, a little feral with the high of you. “Good like those other guys you let into bed?” He doesn’t bother to mask the jealous heat seeping through his breaths.

You’re shaking your head rapidly, broken moans leaving your lips in a stream as he pounds into you with no mercy. “Better!” You yelp when he pauses, adjusts, then starts to repeatedly hit that sweet spot inside of you. “No-No one like you!”

He slows down at the admission, starts to bury himself to the hilt inside of you before pulling out to just the tip and then sliding back in just as deep, letting you feel every thrust in every crevice inside of you. Lets you regain just a little bit of your mind from the slower pace so you can listen, finally listen to him. “Then let me be the only one,” he says, pleads. “Let me be the one for you.”

He sees a rapid slew of emotions flit through your eyes as you stare up at him; shock, realization, understanding. Then something else he doesn’t quite understand as a fresh wave of tears start to slip down your face.

He leans down to kiss them off your face and slows his hips to a stop, settling himself deep in your still pulsing heat. “Please,” he whispers with a soft call of your name. “I’m already yours. Please be mine too.”

He doesn’t get time to regret his words before your lips are on his in a desperate, wanting kiss, one that blows his whole world open then brings it crumbling right back down.

“Yours,” you breathe into the kiss, your hand sliding up into his hair, cradling his head in the way that he loves. Your hips roll up, your walls tightening around him in a vice grip. Your eyes, staring up at him in the way he’d been craving for all these years. He swears he could die happily right here. “Make me yours.”

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Nights spent cooped up in the production studio happened more often than you would like to admit. Editing audio clips and merging sounds over and over again could easily drive someone crazy. 

But there was something about it that made you keep going. The aim for quality and the need to be perfect could easily be your biggest downfall. A song you had been working on for the past 3 weeks was starting to become something actually worth listening to. What excited you even more was thinking about how you would choreograph the song. Each lyric. Each beat. Producing was only something you picked up as a hobby, but KQ originally hired you for your dancing and choreographing experience. 

You didn’t expect anyone else to be in the building at 2 AM on a Thursday. The sound of a door opening down the hall made you pull off your headphones. You saved your project file quickly, a paranoid habit from too many crashed sessions, and stepped out of your studio.

The hallway was very dimly lit, the light from the exit sign was the only thing providing any sort of light. You could see a silhouette vanishing into another studio down the hall. You recognized the build. The height, the hair, the style. It looked like Hongjoong.

He was there seemingly for the same reason you were. Working late on some tracks that could have definitely waited until the morning. You had worked alongside Hongjoong in the studio setting maybe once or twice. Nothing too crazy. But you had spent hours upon hours with him and the rest of his group for choreographies for their previous songs. 

You hesitated. The professional thing to do would be to go back to your studio, mind your business, and pretend you hadn’t seen him. You weren’t really supposed to make contact with the members outside of scheduled sessions. The company had been very clear about boundaries.

But curiosity won.

You walked down the hall and stopped outside his studio door, which he’d left slightly cracked. Through the gap, you could see him hunched over his desk, headphones on, his fingers flying across his MIDI controller. The glow of his monitors painted his face in shades of blue and white. 

You knocked softly. He startled, spinning around in his chair so fast he nearly knocked something off the desk. When he saw you, his eyes widened in recognition.

“Oh hey, what’s up? What are you doing here so late?” He said, pulling off his headphones. His voice was rough, like he’d been singing or rapping along to his tracks. “I didn’t know anyone else was here.” 

“I could say the same for you” you chuckled, still standing in the doorway. “Are you working on something for the comeback” you asked, pointing your eyes at his monitor.

His expression shifted. Part excitement, part exhaustion. “Ah yeah…. I’ve been trying to get this bridge right for days, but something’s not clicking.” He paused, then added almost shyly, “Do you… would you want to listen? I know you’re more on the choreography side, but since you produce too…”

“Yeah let me take a listen” you said, stepping fully into the studio. Hongjoong slipped his headphones off his ears and held them out for you to grab. 

You took the headphones from him and put them over your ears as he opened the file to the track. This studio was small. At least smaller than the one you usually work in down the hall. There was barely enough room for his chair and the small couch pushed against the wall, its cushions worn from what you imagined were countless late nights just like this one.

You leaned forward against the desk and he started the song, hyper aware of how close you were to him. The song started, and immediately you understood why he was still here at 2 AM. It was good, like really good. It was dark and aggressive in the verses, his rap was precise and captivating. But when it hit the bridge, you heard what he meant. The energy dropped awkwardly and the transition felt off.

You listened to it all the way through and said, “Wait, go back, and just play the bridge.”

He nodded, isolating the section and looping it. You closed your eyes this time, letting your body respond instinctively to the music. Your fingers tapped against your thigh, finding the rhythm, and without thinking about it, you started moving, subtle shifts of weight, your shoulders catching the beat.

When you opened your eyes, Hongjoong was watching you with an intensity that made your breath catch.

“What?” you asked.

“Nothing, I just…” He shook his head, a small smile playing at his lips. “You were choreographing it in your head, weren’t you?”

“Maybe,” you admitted. “But that’s actually the problem. The bridge feels like it wants to be choreo-focused, but the melody doesn’t support enough movement. It’s like you’re pulling back right when you should be pushing forward.”

His eyebrows rose. “That’s… exactly what it feels like. I couldn’t figure out how to describe it.”

“Can I?” You gestured toward his keyboard.

“Yeah, of course.” He rolled his chair back slightly, giving you access.

You leaned over the desk again. This time you were close enough to faintly smell his cologne and the coffee sitting next to him. “What if instead of dropping the energy here, you built it? Like…this” 

He leaned forward, focusing on what you were changing. “Wait, do that again.” 

You made a few more adjustments with the MIDI controller while he stared intensely at the screen. After your tweaks, you pressed play for him to hear.

“That actually sounds really good, I like it” he compliments. “I would have been stuck here all night trying to figure out how to fix it” he added.

You hand him back his controller. “Ah no big deal really, like you said earlier, I was focused on the choreography” you chuckled awkwardly. “I'm gonna get back to my studio now” You said, inching towards the door.

“Right, yeah. Of course.” Hongjoong walked you to the door, maintaining a careful distance now. But when you reached the threshold, he added quietly, “Hey, if you ever want to… I mean, if you’re working late again and want another set of ears on something…”

He left the offer hanging in the air between you.

You should have said no. Should have reinforced the boundary, kept things strictly professional.

“Yeah,” you said instead. “Same goes for you.”

His smile was small but genuine. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Hongjoong.”

——-

It was about 3 weeks since your previous interaction with him. The lights in the practice room were bright, and a wall with mirrors from the ceiling to the floor reflected the Ateez members as they slowly filtered in behind you.

You were already at the front of the room, messing with the speaker, and queuing up the song for them. The song. The same song that you helped Hongjoong edit all those nights ago. 

“Good morning” you greeted as they set their things at the edge of the room. A line of “good mornings” echoed back. 

 Hongjoong entered last, a baseball cap pulled low, carrying an iced americano. He nodded in your general direction, the same polite acknowledgment he’d give any staff member, before joining the others in their stretching circle.

“Alright, so today we’re working on the bridge section for the title track,” you announced, connecting your phone to the speakers. “I know you’ve heard the updated version. The energy builds differently now, so the movement needs to reflect that.”

You demonstrated the first eight counts, your body hitting each accent with precision. The members watched attentively, “The key here is the transition,” you explained, running it back slower. “You’re building momentum.”

“Can you show the arm movement again?” Seonghwa asked, stepping closer to watch your form. You broke it down, and he copied it carefully. The session fell into its usual rhythm. Demonstrate, correct, encourage, repeat. It was comfortable. Familiar. Professional.

After a few more slow, in depth run throughs, You called for everyone to take a quick break. You stayed near the front of the studio, making notes on your tablet about sections that needed refinement.

“How are we doing on time?” Yunho asked, appearing beside you.

You checked your watch. “Good. We’ll run it twice more full-out, then call it.”

Across the room, Hongjoong glanced up from his phone. Your eyes met for perhaps half a second in the mirror before you both looked away. Him back to his screen, you back to your notes.

Nothing unusual. Nothing significant.

The rest of the session was entirely professional. When it ended, the members thanked you as they always did, bowing politely before filing out. Hongjoong left in the middle of the group, laughing at something Jongho said, his bag slung over his shoulder.

He didn’t look back.

You stayed in the practice room for another 30 minutes after everyone left. Editing notes, checking the precision of certain moves in the mirror. Everything looked great.

——-

Many weeks had passed. They had already done a few music show promotions and your choreography landed the way you’d hoped. Fans loved the song of course, but you were proud of yourself for your contribution to their performances. 

Now, later into the night, you were at a bar the company had rented out for the after-party. Staff members, choreographers, producers, and some of the idols who’d performed were scattered throughout the space. The music was loud but not overwhelming, the lighting dim. People were finally relaxed after weeks of stress, including yourself. 

Across the room, you caught sight of the ATEEZ members. They pushed two tables together and were laughing loudly about something, Wooyoung gesturing wildly while San nearly fell off his chair laughing. Hongjoong was there too, smiling along with his members. He must have felt your gaze because he looked up. Your eyes met across the crowded bar. He raised his beer slightly in acknowledgment. You did the same.

Then you both looked away.

“Earth to hello?” Bailey, another choreographer, waved her hand in front of your face. “Did you hear what I said?”

“Sorry, what?”

“I asked if you’re finally going to take a vacation now that the showcase is over.”

“Oh. Maybe. I haven’t thought about it.”

“You should. You’ve been running yourself into the ground.”

“So has everyone else.”

“Yeah, but everyone else isn’t…” She stopped, her eyes narrowing. “Wait. Were you just looking at someone?”

“What? No.”

“You were. Who was it?” She turned, scanning the bar.

“Nobody. I was just spacing out.”

“Uh-huh.” But she was smiling, thankfully letting it drop.

“Come on, let’s get another round. We’re celebrating.”

-

An hour and a few drinks later, you started to feel tipsy. Definitely not drunk, but you were definitely more relaxed.

You’d made the rounds, talking to various staff members, discussing future projects. Now you were sitting at a high-top table near the back, alone for the moment, scrolling through your phone. Someone slid into the seat across from you. 

You looked up. Hongjoong.

“Hey,” he said. His cheeks were slightly flushed. He’d been drinking too.

“Hey” you pause for a second “Your performance was incredible.”

“Thank you, but let’s not act like you didn’t help me produce the song. And you also choreographed the whole thing.”

“Well I wouldn’t say produced….” you combated.

“I’m serious though.” He leaned forward, his eyes intense in a way that made your breath catch. “That song was difficult to work with, you did a good job.”

You weren’t sure what to say. The alcohol had loosened something in him too, making him more direct than usual.

“That means a lot,” you said finally. “Especially coming from you.”

“Why especially from me?”

“Because you get it. The creative process, the pressure, the perfectionism.” You took a sip of your beer. “Not everyone understands that.”

He nodded slowly. “No. They don’t.”

A small smile appeared at the edge of his lips as he looked down to the palms of his hands. He stood up from the table, grabbing his drink. He subtly grazed his hand across your upper back as he walked behind your chair, into the direction of his friends.

“Hongjoong!” Wooyoung’s voice cut through the moment. You both looked over quickly as Wooyoung stumbled over, clearly drunk, San supporting him. “There you are! We’re doing karaoke, you have to come sing.”

“I don’t think-” Hongjoong started.

“No excuses! You too,” Wooyoung pointed at you. “You should sing. You’re always so serious, relax”

“I’m not really a singer,” you protested.

“Everyone can sing when they’re drunk enough,” San said eagerly. “Come on.”

They literally pulled you both toward the karaoke setup the bar had in the corner. You ended up squished between Jongho and Mingi on a booth seat, Hongjoong across the way with Seonghwa and Yunho. The separation felt both safer and disappointing.

Wooyoung and San performed an enthusiastic duet. They were crazy, but it was entertaining. Yunho did a surprisingly good trot song. Yeosang dragged you up for a girl group song, and you stumbled through it, laughing too hard to hit most of the notes.

Every time you glanced across the booth, Hongjoong was watching you. And every time he looked away, you found yourself watching him.

The night blurred. More drinks, more songs, more laughter. At some point Jongho did a ballad that made everyone go silent with how good it was. The table wasn’t very wide, so you and Joong may have accidentally brushed your fingers a few times. Or maybe it wasn’t accidently. Eventually someone spilled a drink and there was chaos cleaning it up.

Around 2 AM, people started calling it. You were exhausted, pleasantly drunk, and emotionally wrung out.

You found yourself outside the bar with a group waiting for taxis. The night air was cold, sobering.

Hongjoong was there too, talking with Yunho and Mingi. When your taxi arrived, you said general goodbyes to the group.

“Get home safe,” Hongjoong said, his voice carefully neutral.

“You too.”

You fell asleep that night replaying the moment your fingers had touched across the table, the way he’d looked at you. Nothing had really changed. But it felt like everything had.

——-

Recently, you had successfully avoided working late. It was either your awesome time management skills or that you were trying your hardest to avoid Hongjoong at the company building. The latter. But today you had a deadline to meet that had a few hours of work still needed to be put into it. A choreography video breakdown due to the production team by Wednesday morning, and you’d been procrastinating on the editing all week. There was no way around it, you needed to be at the company to access the full footage files and proper editing software since your dinosaur of a laptop would not be able to handle it.

It was already getting late, You arrived at the company building around 7PM. You headed up to the editing suite, thankful that it is in an entirely different area of the building than the production studios were. 

The editing suite was empty, as you’d hoped. You settled in, pulled up the footage, and got to work. Outside, rain began pattering against the windows.

On the 4th floor, Hongjoong was in his studio, completely absorbed in a mix. He’d been good about staying away too. Hadn’t worked late, hadn’t lingered in the hallways, had been professional and distant during the one brief interaction you’d had in passing yesterday, which was nothing more than a polite nod.

But tonight he needed to finish this track. The deadline was flexible, but his brain was finally in the right space for it, and he’d learned not to waste those moments of creative clarity. He’d checked the weather. Rain, but manageable. He’d be fine. The rain started picking up around 7:30. He barely noticed, headphones on, fingers flying across his keyboard.

By 8PM, the rain was very heavy. You looked up from your video editor app and noticed that the raindrops were big, and slamming against the window aggressively and loudly. The sky outside was dark gray, almost black, and the rain was coming down in sheets. You pulled out your phone to check the weather app. 

SEVERE WEATHER WARNING: Flash flood warning in effect until 6 AM. Avoid all travel. Seek shelter immediately.

You have got to be kidding me. You opened the weather map. The entire district was lit up in red. The rain was supposed to get worse over the next few hours. Subway lines were already shutting down due to flooding. Roads were closing. Even if you wanted to go home, you were stuck since you had taken the train to get there.

You had maybe 10 more hours of editing, but with the rain, we don’t know how the wifi and electricity will act. 

Your phone buzzed. A message from the production team manager.

Manager: If anyone is still at the building, stay put. Do not attempt to travel. Flooding is severe. Buildings are safe but roads are not.

Great

You stood there for a second, contemplating what you should do next. You walk towards the window and look down the streets. The water was already getting deep to where the drains couldn’t keep up with it. There were a few cars that were driving slowly trying to navigate. You were stuck here. Probably for the whole night, or at least the majority of it.

You went back to your editing, trying to focus. At least you had work to keep you occupied. And there were vending machines in the building. You’d survive.

Hongjoong saw the weather alert at 8:15.

He pulled off his headphones and went to the window. The rain was torrential now, the street below barely visible through the downpour.

His phone buzzed with the same message from the manager.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. Stuck here. Fine. He’d been planning to work late anyway. At least now he had an excuse. He checked the group chat. None of the members were at the building. They’d all left hours ago for their dorms. He sent a quick message saying he was safe, just stuck at the company, and would see them tomorrow. He pocketed his phone and went back to his desk, and had to make the most of his time now that he is trapped here.

-

Around 9 PM, you needed a break. Your eyes were tired from staring at the timeline, and your stomach was growling. You saved your progress and headed out of the editing suite toward the vending machines on the third floor.

The hallways were eerily quiet. The weather outside didn’t help much with your perception of the building. The overhead lights were on, but everything felt too still, too empty. Your footsteps echoed off the walls.

You took the stairs down to the third floor and found the vending machines. You got a coffee and some crackers, then hesitated. The sixth floor was three floors up. The studio floor.

You wondered if anyone else was stuck here. The building was big, but on a Tuesday night this late…No. Don’t think about it. Even if someone was here, it didn’t mean…

You heard a door open above you. Footsteps on the stairs.

Your heart jumped into your throat. You stood frozen in front of the vending machine, coffee in hand, as Hongjoong rounded the corner and stopped dead when he saw you.

For a moment, neither of you said anything.

He was wearing sweatpants and a hoodie, his hair messy, looking as surprised to see you as you were to see him. God he looked so effortlessly sexy. 

“Oh,” he said finally. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Your voice came out steadier than you felt. “You’re stuck here too?”

“Yeah. I was working when the alert came through.” He gestured vaguely upward. “You?”

“Editing. Fourth floor. Had a deadline.”

“Right.”

Another pause. The awkwardness was almost painful.

“I was just” You held up your coffee. “Taking a break.”

“Same. I was coming to get…” He looked at the vending machine like he’d forgotten what he wanted.

You stepped aside to give him access. He moved forward, careful to maintain distance, and stared at the options without really seeing them.

The silence stretched.

“So,” you said finally, because this was ridiculous. “Looks like we’re stuck here until morning.”

“Looks like it.” The awkwardness killing both of you.

“The weather report said the flooding won’t clear until at least 6 AM.”

“I saw that.”

More silence. This was painful. You were two adults who worked together regularly, who’d had plenty of normal conversations before. Why was this so difficult?

Because of the party. Because of the way he’d touched your back. Because of the way your fingers had kept finding each other across the table. Because of everything unspoken between you. Clearly he feels a certain way about it too if he is acting like this. 

Hongjoong finally selected a coffee and an energy bar. He turned to face you, and you both just stood there in the fluorescent lighting of the hallway, holding your respective snacks, not sure what to do next.

“Well,” you said. “I should get back to…”

“Do you want to..” he said at the same time.

You both stopped.

“Sorry, what?” you asked.

He looked uncertain, almost vulnerable. “I was going to ask if you wanted to maybe… I don’t know, not sit in separate parts of the building all night? It’s kind of creepy being here alone.”

Your heart was doing complicated things. “Where would we…?”

“I mean if you are able to take a little bit of a break from your editing, we could go to my studio. If not, I could come to you” he clarified.

“Your studio is fine,” you said. “I could use a real break anyway. My eyes are starting to cross.”

Relief flickered across his face. “Okay. Good.”

You followed him up the stairs to the sixth floor, maintaining that careful distance. The hallway was dim, most of the lights on energy-saving mode this late at night. His studio door was open, light spilling out into the hallway.

It was exactly as you remembered. Small, crowded with equipment, the couch pushed against the wall. He gestured toward it. “You can sit there. It’s more comfortable than it looks.”

“Thanks.” You settled onto the couch, setting your coffee on the small table beside it. The cushions were worn soft, and you could smell the faint scent of his cologne embedded in the fabric.

Hongjoong took his seat at the desk, putting a respectable distance between you. He opened his laptop, pulling up the project he’d been working on.

“So what are you editing?” he asked, the question feeling safe after the awkwardness in the hallway.

“Choreography breakdown for the new trainee group. It’s tedious work. Lots of slow-motion, annotations, that kind of thing.”

“Sounds mind-numbing.” he chuckles, eyes still locked on his laptop. 

“It is. But it’s necessary.” You took a sip of your coffee. “What about you?”

“I’ve been working on matching the beat to the lyrics in a new song,” he explained. Nothing out of the ordinary. 

“Can I listen?” You leaned off the couch.

He looked surprised. “You don’t have to”

“I want to. Fresh ears, remember?”

A small smile crossed his face. “Yeah. Okay.”

He pulled up the track and played it through his monitors instead of headphones, a small intimacy, sharing the sound in the open air of the room. You closed your eyes and listened, letting your body respond to the music the way you always did.

When it ended, you opened your eyes to find him watching you. A slight tint of blush bloomed across your cheeks.

“I actually really enjoy what you have going on right now, It suits your style. I like it.” you admitted.

“You like the sound or you like my style” he questioned teasingly.

“Maybe a little bit of both” You settled back into the couch, holding your coffee, trying to slow your heartbeat.

An hour passed.

You’d both fallen into a comfortable rhythm. Him working on his mix, you scrolling through your phone and occasionally offering feedback when he plays something. 

The rain continued outside, a steady percussion against the windows.

Around 11 PM, you noticed the temperature dropping.

At first it was subtle, just a slight chill. You pulled your knees up onto the couch, wrapping your arms around them. But it kept getting colder.

“Is it just me or did it get freezing in here?” you asked finally, unable to ignore it anymore.

Hongjoong looked up from his screen. “Oh. Yeah, the building probably switched to night mode. They lower the heat to save energy after a certain hour.” He frowned, noticing the way you were curled up trying to stay warm. “Are you cold?”

“A little bit. It’s fine though. I didn’t realize how cold it got without the heat running.”

“Here.” He stood up without hesitation, pulling his hoodie off in one smooth motion.

Underneath he wore a simple black t-shirt that revealed the lean muscles of his arms, and you very deliberately looked away before your stare could linger too long. The bottom of his shirt lifted up slightly when he pulled his hoodie off, exposing part of his toned stomach.

“You don’t have to” you started.

“Take it,” he insisted, holding it out. “I run warm anyway. I barely even noticed the cold.”

You accepted it hesitantly. The fabric was still warm from his body heat, and when you pulled it over your head, you were immediately enveloped in his scent. Cologne, similar scent to the one on the couch, laundry detergent, and something that was just… him.

It was too big on you, the sleeves falling past your hands, the hem reaching mid-thigh. You had to roll the sleeves up several times.

When you looked up, Hongjoong was staring. He caught himself quickly and turned back to his computer, but not before you saw something flash across his face, something that made your pulse quicken.

“Better?” he asked, his voice slightly rougher than before.

“Yeah. Much better. Thank you.”

You pulled the hoodie tighter around yourself, trying not to think about the fact that you were wearing his clothes, that you could smell him with every breath, that the intimacy of it felt both too much and not enough at the same time.

-

You eventually went back to your editing room to transfer some files to your laptop. You weren’t able to do all of the work on it, but it would be more productive that scrolling on your phone.

Around midnight, the exhaustion really started to set in.

You’d been awake since 6 AM, and the combination of the late hour, the warmth of the hoodie, and the steady sound of rain was making your eyelids heavy.

Hongjoong had been quiet for a while, working steadily, but now he stopped and leaned back in his chair with a heavy sigh.

“You okay?” you asked, looking up from your laptop.

“Yeah. Just…” He rubbed his face with both hands. “Tired. And thinking too much.”

“About the mix?”

“About everything.” He spun his chair slightly to face you. 

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Do you ever feel like you’re missing your own life?”

The question caught you off guard. “What do you mean?”

He was quiet for a moment, choosing his words carefully. “Like… you’re so busy working, so focused on the next deadline or the next project, that you look up one day and realize you haven’t actually lived. Haven’t seen your family in weeks. Haven’t had a real conversation with a friend. Haven’t done anything that wasn’t work-related.”

There was something raw in his voice, vulnerable in a way you’d never heard from him before. “Yeah,” you said softly. “I feel like that a lot, actually.”

“My parents live three hours away,” he continued, still looking at his hands. “I haven’t visited them in almost two months. My mom calls every week and I barely have time to talk to her for more than ten minutes. And I keep telling myself I’ll make time, I’ll go see them next month, but next month comes and there’s always something else that’s more urgent. And the members, I feel like I don’t have enough time for them. That I am not being a good friend. That I'm failing them.”

“Hongjoong…” You sat up straighter, drawing your knees up and wrapping your arms around them. “You’re not failing them. They love you. Anyone can see that.”

“Maybe. But I could be better. I should be better.” He finally looked up at you, and there was something achingly honest in his eyes. “Sometimes I wonder what the point is, you know? Working this hard, sacrificing everything, if at the end of it I’m just… alone. With nothing but the music.”

Your chest felt tight. “You won’t be alone.”

“How do you know?”

“Because you’re not the kind of person who ends up alone. You care too much, even if you don’t always have time to show it the way you want to.”

He laughed, but there was no humor in it. “You have a lot of faith in me.”

“I do.”

He looked at you then, really looked at you, and something shifted in the air between you.

You found yourself staring at his face, really seeing him in a way you usually didn’t let yourself. The exhaustion around his eyes, the slight stubble on his jaw, the way his lips were pressed together like he was holding back words. He was beautiful in a way that had nothing to do with the idol polish and everything to do with the vulnerable, tired, honest person sitting in front of you.

“What?” he asked softly, noticing your stare.

You should look away. Should say “nothing” and change the subject.

“I was just thinking that you’re really hard on yourself,” you said instead. “Harder than you need to be.”

“Someone has to be.”

“Why does it have to be you?”

“Because if I don’t push myself, who will?”

“Maybe you don’t need to be pushed. Maybe you need to rest.”

He smiled, sad and small. “I don’t know how to do that.”

“I know. I don’t either.”

The confession hung between you. Two people who didn’t know how to stop, who didn’t know how to exist outside of their work, recognizing that same brokenness in each other.

The hours blurred together after that.

You talked more. About families, about pressure, about the things you’d both sacrificed for your careers. The conversation was easier than it should have been, flowing naturally despite the late hour and the weight of the topics.

Around 2 AM, you noticed his voice had changed. It was lower now, softer, with a slight rasp from exhaustion. Every word felt more intimate, like he was sharing secrets even when he was just talking about mundane things.

“Your voice gets different when you’re tired,” you observed without thinking.

He paused mid-sentence. “Different how?”

“Lower. Softer.” You felt your face heat. “Never mind, that was a weird thing to notice.”

“No, it’s…” A small smile appeared on his lips. “It’s not weird. I’ve noticed things about you too.”

Your heart skipped. “Like what?”

“Like how you play with your sleeves when you’re thinking. Or how you tilt your head slightly when you’re really listening to music. Or how your whole face changes when you’re explaining choreography, you light up in this way that’s…” He stopped himself.

“That’s what?”

“Beautiful,” he said quietly. “It’s beautiful to watch.”

The word made you freeze. You should say something. Should deflect or joke or change the subject. But you couldn’t find any words at all.

Hongjoong seemed to realize what he’d said, because he looked away quickly. “Sorry. That was..I shouldn’t have..”

“It’s okay,” you managed. “I just… wasn’t expecting that.”

“I know. Forget I said it.”

But you both knew you wouldn’t forget. Couldn’t forget.

——-

The hoodie sat folded on your dresser, where you’d placed it the morning you got home. You’d meant to wash it immediately. The professional, appropriate thing to do before returning it.

But you hadn’t. Every time you walked past it, you caught a faint trace of his scent. Cologne and laundry detergent and something that just reminded you of the other night. And every time, you had to resist the urge to pick it up.

This was ridiculous. It was just a hoodie.

Except it wasn’t just a hoodie, and you both knew it.

You’d been good about staying away from the building. Working from home when possible, scheduled your studio time for hours you knew he wouldn’t be there, kept yourself busy with projects that didn’t require you to be on-site. It was only so long before you had to go back to teach a choreography, or edit another in-depth video, or even just practice your music production.

Bailey had texted twice asking if you were okay. You’d said you were fine, just tired from the storm night. She didn’t believe you, but she let it go.

Now it was Friday evening, and you were sitting on your couch, staring at your phone, the hoodie visible in your peripheral vision. It is crazy to think about how much the mere presence of the hoodie has affected you.

You’d managed three whole days without texting him.

Three days of wondering if he was thinking about that night too. Three days of replaying conversations in your head. Three days of remembering the way he’d said “beautiful” and then immediately regretted it. Three days of trying to convince yourself that the smartest thing to do was maintain distance and let whatever this was fade naturally.

Your phone buzzed, and your heart jumped before you even looked at it.

Hongjoong: Hey. Hope this isn’t weird to text outside of work hours.

You stared at the message, your pulse quickening.

Hongjoong: I have a demo that needs choreography input. Would you be able to listen when you have time?

It was perfectly professional. A completely reasonable work request.

Except it was 9 PM on a Friday night, and he’d started with “hope this isn’t weird.”

You typed and deleted three different responses before settling on:

You: Not weird. I can listen now if you want to send it.

Three dots appeared immediately, then disappeared. Then appeared again.

Hongjoong: Sending now. No rush though, I know it’s late.

When you opened up the audio file, you were met with a sound that was different than his usual work. His song felt more intimate, more personal.

You: I think calm and minimal movement choreography would go good with this song, to focus more on the meaning of the lyrics and not the power of the dance.

Hongjoong: That’s what I was thinking but I wasn’t sure if it would translate. I’ve been writing a lot lately. Processing things.

You: The storm night?

You sent it before you could stop yourself. Three days of careful distance, and you’d just acknowledged it directly.

The dots appeared and disappeared several times.

Hongjoong: Among other things.

You: Me too.

Hongjoong: Yeah?

You: Yeah. Hard not to think about it.

You could feel the awkwardness radiating through the screen.

Hongjoong: We talked a lot that night.

You: We did.

Hongjoong: And I said some things I probably shouldn’t have.

Your heart was beating too fast.

 You: Like what?

Hongjoong: Like calling the way you explain choreography beautiful.

You: Why shouldn’t you have said that?

Another long pause, an unintentional frown appearing on your face.

Hongjoong: Because it made things more complicated.

You: Things were already complicated.

Hongjoong: True.

Was this him admitting that he has been thinking about us? Anyone else would view your interactions prior to the storm as just normal coworker stuff, but clearly that isn’t how he felt either.

You both let the conversation sit for a moment. You could almost feel him on the other end, holding his phone, choosing his words carefully just like you were.

Eventually you let the conversation fizzle out before trying to work on your editing again.

——-

Monday morning, you had a meeting with the production team. You’d planned your arrival carefully, early enough to seem professional, late enough that most people would already be in their offices. Less chance of running into him in the hallways.

The meeting went smoothly. Discussion of upcoming projects, timeline adjustments, the usual logistics. You took notes, contributed when appropriate, and tried not to think about the fact that Hongjoong’s studio was just two floors up.

After the meeting, you went to your studio to work. You had several hours of choreography to review, and you forced yourself to focus.

Around 1 PM, you took a lunch break. The cafeteria was busy with staff and a few idols grabbing food between schedules. You got a salad and found a table in the corner, pulling out your phone while you ate.

A notification popped up. Not a text…an airdrop request.

“Hongjoong’s iPhone” wants to share a note.

Your heart jumped. You glanced around the cafeteria but didn’t see him anywhere. You accepted the airdrop.

A note file opened. Just one line:

Second floor, east stairwell. If you want.

You stared at it.

This was a terrible idea. Anyone could see you. You were in the middle of the building during work hours.

You finished your salad mechanically, cleaned up your tray, and walked calmly toward the east stairwell like you had every reason to be going that direction.

The stairwell was empty. You pushed through the door to the second-floor landing and found Hongjoong leaning against the wall, phone in hand.

He looked up when you entered, and something in his expression softened.

“Hey,” he said quietly.

“Hey.” You let the door close behind you, the stairwell suddenly feeling very private despite being in the middle of the building. “Airdrop? Really?”

“Couldn’t text. Too traceable.” He pushed off the wall but didn’t come closer. “I saw you in the cafeteria and just… wanted to say hi.”

“You could have said hi in the cafeteria.”

“Not the way I wanted to.”

Your pulse quickened. “And how did you want to?”

“Like this. Without an audience. Without having to be careful about how long we talk or how we look at each other.”

“Hongjoong…”

“I know. I know we need to keep it professional. But I can’t stop thinking about that night. About the conversation. About…” He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “About you.”

You should shut this down. Should remind him of all the reasons this was complicated.

“I can’t either,” you admitted instead.

He looked at you, really looked at you, and the intensity made you want to step back and step forward at the same time.

“What are we doing?” he asked quietly.

“I don’t know.”

“We should stop. Before it gets more complicated.”

“Yeah.”

“But I don’t want to.”

“Me neither.”

The stairwell was silent except for the distant sound of the building’s ventilation system. You were both very aware that anyone could walk through that door at any moment.

“I should get back,” you said, not moving.

“Yeah. Me too.”

Neither of you moved.

“Your hoodie,” you said suddenly. “I still have it.”

“I know.”

“I should return it.”

“I don’t want it back.”

“Hongjoong…” His name gets caught in your throat again.

“I like that you have it,” he said simply. “I like thinking about you wearing it. Is that weird?”

Your face felt warm. “Maybe a little.”

“I’m being honest.”

“I know.” You took a breath. “I wore it. After I got home that night. And maybe a few times since then.”

His eyes darkened slightly. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

The air between you felt charged, dangerous. You were standing at least five feet apart, but it felt too close and not close enough.

“I should really go,” you said.

“Okay.”

You moved toward the door, then stopped. “Hongjoong?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for texting.”

“Thanks for responding.”

You left the stairwell and went straight back to your studio, your heart pounding. That was reckless. Stupid. Anyone could have seen.

But you were smiling.

Your phone buzzed a few minutes later. Another airdrop.

You accepted it.

Another note: You’re still wearing my hoodie in my mind.

You deleted it immediately, but not before reading it three more times.

——

Two weeks of careful, work-related texts that said nothing and everything at once. Can you review this demo? What do you think about this formation? The bridge needs adjustment. All professional. All safe.

All completely inadequate for what you actually wanted to say to each other.

You had only seen him while teaching the group parts of a choreography since that day in the stairwell when he’d airdropped you a note and you’d met in secret just to have five minutes of honest conversation. Since then, it had been back to distance, back to careful navigation of schedules to avoid each other, back to pretending.

But tonight was different.

Seonghwa had texted you privately three days ago: Private park hangout Friday night. Just the guys, us and the production team for the album. Bring snacks and drinks. Mingi found a spot.

You’d almost declined. Almost made up an excuse about being tired or having plans. But then Bailey had texted: You’re going right? I need someone to drink with.

And maybe, possibly, you’d wondered if Hongjoong would be there.

So here you were, Friday evening, standing in a secluded park area that felt like it existed outside of normal Seoul. It was tucked away behind a residential area, a small gazebo with a table and benches, string lights that someone (probably Mingi) had hung up, and a view of the sky that was surprisingly clear for the city.

About fifteen people had shown up. All eight ATEEZ members, a few producers, some choreographers including you and Bailey, and a couple of staff members from the album team. Casual. Intimate. The kind of gathering where everyone could actually relax and not worry about work.

You’d arrived with your friend, carrying a bag of snacks and a bottle of soju. The sun was just starting to set, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink.

And there he was.

Hongjoong was standing near the gazebo with Yunho and one of the producers, laughing about something, wearing black jeans and a grey hoodie. His hair resting in front of his face, and he looked more relaxed than you’d seen him in weeks.

Your heart did something complicated.

He looked up as you approached, and for just a second, his expression shifted. Surprise and pleasure and something else you couldn’t quite name.

“Hey,” he said as you got closer.

“Hey.” You tried to sound casual, normal, like you hadn’t been thinking about him constantly for two weeks.

“Glad you could make it.”

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

The conversation was painfully polite, and you were both very aware of the other people around you.

Bailey pulled you away to help set up the snacks on the table, and you forced yourself not to look back at where Hongjoong was still standing.

An hour later, the sun had fully set and the string lights created a warm glow around the gazebo.

People had scattered into smaller groups, some sitting on the benches, some on blankets on the grass, everyone drinking and talking and laughing. The atmosphere was easy, comfortable, the kind of rare evening where work stress fell away and people could just exist.

You’d had about a glass and a half of soju, enough to feel warm and relaxed, the edges of your exhaustion from the week softened. You were sitting on one of the benches with Seonghwa, and Hongjoong, the three of you in the middle of a conversation about the most embarrassing moments from shoots. Bailey had wandered off to another group somewhere.

You were zoning in and out of the conversation. You smiled, taking another sip of your soju. You were sitting next to Hongjoong on the bench, not touching but close enough that you were aware of the warmth of him. Every time he shifted or laughed, you felt it.

When the question came back around to you “What about you?” Hongjoong asked, turning slightly toward you. “Worst moment?”

“Oh god.” You thought about it. “Probably the time I was demonstrating a sequence and completely lost my balance. Just fell flat on my face in front of twelve trainees. Very professional.”

“Did they laugh?” Seonghwa asked.

“They tried not to. Which somehow made it worse.”

Everyone laughed, and you felt Hongjoong’s shoulder brush yours briefly, accidental, probably, but it sent electricity through you anyway.

The conversation drifted to other topics. Seonghwa started telling another story, and you felt yourself relaxing further into the bench, the soju and the exhaustion and the comfortable atmosphere all catching up with you.

You hadn’t realized how tired you actually were until you stopped moving. It had been a brutal week, long days in the studio, late nights working on projects, not enough sleep. Your body was finally acknowledging it.

Your eyelids felt heavy. You blinked, trying to focus on what  Seonghwa was saying, but the words were starting to blur together.

“You okay?” Hongjoong asked quietly, just for you.

“Yeah. Just tired.”

“Long week?”

“The longest.”

His expression softened. “You should rest when you get home.”

“I will.”

But even as you said it, you felt yourself starting to drift. The bench was comfortable, the conversation was a pleasant hum around you, and you were so, so tired. You caught yourself starting to lean away from Hongjoong, toward the other end of the bench where there was more space.

But then you felt a gentle hand on your shoulder, carefully guiding you back.

“Here,” Hongjoong said softly, his voice close to your ear. 

“You’ll hurt your neck like that.”

And suddenly you were leaning the other direction, toward him, your head coming to rest on his shoulder.

You should protest. Should sit up. Should not be doing this in front of everyone.

But his shoulder was solid and warm, and you were so tired, and it felt so natural that your body made the decision before your brain could interfere.

“Is this okay?” you mumbled, already half-asleep.

“Yeah.” His voice was quiet, careful. “It’s okay.”

That was the last thing you registered before sleep pulled you under.

Hongjoong felt the exact moment you fully relaxed against him, your breathing evening out, your weight settling more completely against his side.

His heart was racing, but he forced himself to stay calm. To keep his breathing steady. To not react in a way that would draw attention.

Seonghwa, sitting on Hongjoong’s other side, had noticed too. He didn’t say anything, just gave Hongjoong a long, measured look that said I see what’s happening here.

Hongjoong kept his expression neutral, like this was completely normal and not affecting him at all.

Internally, he was absolutely losing it.

You were pressed against his side, your head tucked against his shoulder, your breathing soft and steady. He could smell your shampoo, something floral and clean. Your hair was falling across his hoodie, and he had to resist the urge to brush it back from your face.

Seonghwa caught his eye again, and this time there was the hint of a smile. He leaned closer and said, very quietly, “You’re doing a good thing. Letting her rest.”

“It’s nothing.”

“Uh-huh.” Seonghwa’s tone suggested he didn’t believe that for a second. “Just… be careful, yeah?”

The words were gentle, not judgmental, but they carried weight. I see what’s happening. I’m not going to say anything. But be careful.

Hongjoong nodded slightly, and Seonghwa settled back.

Time passed. People came and went from their circle. San and Wooyoung disappeared to look at something on the other side of the park. A couple of the producers left, calling goodbyes. 

Through it all, you slept peacefully against his shoulder, and Hongjoong didn’t move.

He cataloged everything about this moment, knowing he’d want to remember it later. The weight of you against him. The soft sound of your breathing. The way your hand had come to rest against his arm in your sleep. The trust implied in every relaxed line of your body.

And somewhere during those quiet minutes, watching you sleep, feeling the solid reality of you beside him, something clicked into place.

This wasn’t just an attraction. It wasn't just chemistry or creative connection or the thrill of something forbidden.

He has feelings for you.

The realization should have terrified him. Should have sent him into a spiral of panic about complications and consequences and all the ways this could go wrong.

Instead, it felt inevitable. Like something he’d known for a while but had been too afraid to name.

He liked you. Liked your talent and your laugh and the way you understood music through movement. With your vulnerability about burnout and your honesty about struggling. With the way you fit against his shoulder like you belonged there.

And he had no idea what to do about it.

-

It was past eleven now, and the gathering was winding down naturally. People were collecting trash, folding blankets, saying their goodbyes.

Hongjoong looked down at you, still sleeping peacefully, and felt something in his chest ache. He didn’t want to wake you. Didn’t want to break this spell.

But he also couldn’t sit here all night.

Carefully, slowly, he shifted. You made a small sound of protest but didn’t wake. He gently guided your head down to rest on the table instead, making sure your arm was positioned so you wouldn’t wake up with it numb.

Then he stood, stretching his stiff shoulder, and looked around. Most people had left. Seonghwa, Mingi, and Bailey were the only ones still packing up.

Hongjoong grabbed his jacket from where he’d left it and carefully draped it over your shoulders. The night had gotten cooler, and you’d need it.

“Should we wake her?” Bailey asked, walking over with concern on her face.

“I can drive her home,” Hongjoong said, trying to sound casual. “I’m sober, and I know she didn’t drive herself. Easier than making her deal with getting home on her own.”

Your friend looked between you sleeping and Hongjoong, something calculating in her expression. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. It’s not a big deal.”

Seonghwa appeared at his elbow. “That’s nice of you. Make sure she gets inside okay.”

There was something in Seonghwa’s tone, approval and warning all at once. Again.

“I will.”

Bailey hesitated, then nodded. “Okay. Thank you. Do you know the address?”

“Yeah.” He did. He’d called taxis for you before after late studio sessions, made sure the address was saved in case you ever needed it again.

She gave him the specific building number to be safe, then helped gather your things, your bag, your phone, the half-empty bottle of soju you’d brought.

“Take care of her,” she said, and there was a weight to the words that suggested she suspected more than she was saying.

“I will.”

-

“Hey,” he said softly, crouching beside where you were sleeping with your head on the table, his jacket draped over you. “We need to get you home.”

You stirred slightly, mumbling something incoherent.

“Come on. I’m going to drive you.”

“Mmm?” Your eyes opened just slightly, unfocused. “Hongjoong?”

“Yeah. Can you walk?”

“Mm. Tired.”

“I know. Come on.”

He helped you sit up, and you swayed slightly, still mostly asleep. He kept a steadying hand on your arm, then carefully retrieved his jacket and draped it over your shoulders properly.

“My stuff…” you mumbled.

“I have it. It’s in the car.”

You nodded, accepting this, and let him guide you to standing. You leaned against him heavily, and he wrapped an arm around your waist to keep you steady.

The walk to his car was slow. You were mostly asleep on your feet, trusting him completely to guide you. He got the passenger door open and helped you inside, reaching across to buckle your seatbelt while you blinked drowsily.

“Comfortable?” he asked.

“Mmhm.”

You were asleep again before he even started the car.

The drive to your apartment was quiet.

Hongjoong kept the radio off, not wanting to wake you. He glanced over occasionally, watching your peaceful face in the streetlight glow, still unable to fully process the fact that he was driving you home, that you were wrapped in his jacket, that you’d slept against him all evening.

He found your building easily. A mid-rise in a decent neighborhood of Hongdae. He parked in a visitor spot and sat for a moment, looking at you.

“Hey,” he said softly. “We’re here.”

You stirred slightly but didn’t wake.

He got out, grabbed your bag from the back seat, and came around to the passenger side. Opening the door carefully, he crouched down.

“Come on. Just need to get you inside.”

“Inside,” you repeated sleepily, but made no move to get out of the car.

He smiled despite himself. “Yeah. Inside. Can you walk?”

“Mmhm.”

But when he helped you out of the car, you immediately leaned against him again, and he had to wrap his arm around your waist to keep you upright.

He shouldered your bag and guided you toward the building entrance. The door required a code, and he had to dig through your bag for your keys, finally finding them and the little tag with your door code written on it.

The elevator ride up was quiet. You were leaning against the wall with your eyes closed, his jacket still around your shoulders.

“What floor?” he asked.

“Four,” you mumbled.

He pressed the button.

When the doors opened, he guided you down the hallway to your door 4B. Another code, which he found on your keychain, and then he was pushing open your door.

Your apartment was small but tidy. A cozy living room, a tiny kitchen visible beyond it. A door that probably led to your bedroom.

“Come on,” he said gently. “Bedroom.”

“Tired,” you mumbled, but you let him guide you through the apartment.

Your bedroom was what he expected, clean, organized, with a desk covered in notebooks and a laptop. A mirror on one wall. Dance shoes by the closet. Very you.

He guided you to sit on the edge of the bed, and you immediately started to tip over.

“Hang on,” he said, catching you. “Let’s get your shoes off at least.”

He knelt down and carefully untied your sneakers, slipping them off. You watched him with half-closed eyes.

“Hongjoong?”

“Yeah?”

“How did I get here?”

“I drove you. You fell asleep at the park.”

“Oh.” You processed this slowly. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. You needed sleep.”

You nodded vaguely, then started to lie down, still wearing his jacket over your clothes.

He hesitated, then carefully helped you out of the jacket. You’d be more comfortable without it.

“Here,” he said, pulling back your covers. “Get under the blanket.”

You complied, crawling under the covers and immediately curling into the pillow.

Hongjoong stood there for a moment, looking down at you. Your face was peaceful in sleep, your hair spread across the pillow. His jacket was folded over his arm, still warm from you wearing it.

He should leave. Should go before this becomes any more complicated than it already was.

But he found himself moving to your kitchen, filling a glass with water and bringing it back to sit on your nightstand. You’d be thirsty when you woke up.

Then he checked your door, making sure it would lock behind him.

Back in your bedroom doorway, he took one last look.

You were already deeply asleep, breathing steady and even.

“Goodnight,” he said quietly, even though you couldn’t hear him.

Then he left, pulling the door shut behind him, hearing the lock click into place.

In his car, Hongjoong sat for a long moment before starting the engine.

His jacket smelled like your shampoo now. His shoulder still felt the phantom weight of your head. His entire body was still hyperaware of every point where you’d touched him.

But as he drove home through the empty streets, he couldn’t bring himself to regret any of it.

Not the evening with you sleeping against him.

Not driving you home.

Not the way his heart had finally admitted what it had been trying to tell him for weeks.

And somehow, eventually, he’d have to figure out what came next.

But tonight, he’d just let himself have this. The memory of you trusting him enough to sleep against him, the knowledge that you were home safe because he’d made sure of it, and the jacket that still smelled like you.

It wasn’t enough.

But it was something.

And for now, that would have to be enough.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

part 1 part 2 part 3 series masterlist

You sigh, knowing that if you try to push for the rest of the hour, they’ll start a rally against you. Resigned, you clap your hands for their attention and stand. “Alright!” It’s been six hours, you can show them some mercy. “I think it’s about time we get you outta here.”

“Oh, thank you, lord!” Keeho yells melodramatically as he collapses on top of Theo who lets out a high pitched yell.

Jongseob is already grabbing his bag and heading out the door but not before driving by you for a shoulder bump. “Good job today,” you say to him, high-fiving Intak as he follows after Jongseob. Jiung quietly filters out with a wave.

You turn to the two eldest of the group who are still on the floor expectantly. “Just let us rest here for a bit,” Keeho says, waving dismissively at you. “You can’t kick us out, we’re your seniors.”

You raise your brow at them. “Sometimes I wonder,” you say drily, before you see Soul enter your peripherals, fidgeting as he hovers by you.

You turn fully to him and he straightens at the attention, bringing his hand up to a salute.

You fail to fight off the fond smile that he brings out of you; you have a feeling you know exactly where this is going. “Let me guess, you’re still up for more?” He nods enthusiastically. “That’s great, Shota, but I’m a little tired too.”

Theo scoffs from the ground. “From what? All you do is stand there and watch us.” He yelps when Keeho smacks him on the head.

You sigh, exasperated, as they start swatting at each other back and forth. “Can you take your flirting outside?” Your plea falls on deaf ears, like they always do when it comes to these two and you’re not sure why you keep trying to wrangle them.

You look back to Soul who is still holding up his salute and giving you his boba eyes. You bite your lip, cursing those stupid eyes as you concede. You really have no defence against him. “I have somewhere to be tonight but… Come by after?”

Soul grins at you, bouncing on his feet. “Can’t wait,” he giggles to you, nudging you as he walks past. You have to take a deep breath to stifle your grin at getting him one on one again.

Your attention is pulled to Keeho’s loud cooing. Surprise is not the emotion you feel when you see Theo’s face smashed between Keeho’s palms as Theo just lays there with his arms splayed out, taking it.

“Seriously? On my floor?”

Keeho looks up at you and scrunches his nose. “Shouldn’t you be focused on your little date with Shota?”

Your heart nearly stops. “Huh? What date?”

“Ah, she’s clueless,” sighs Theo as he finally pushes Keeho off and sits up. “She doesn’t even know she likes him.”

Your brain process lags as you stare at Theo. “Huh?”

Keeho rolls his eyes as he pulls himself up to his feet with a groan, hands on his back like he’s a weary old man. “Don’t think we don’t see your little looks.”

“Like the eye-batting.”

“Or the eye-fucking.”

You sputter, trying to form words. “It’s not like that!” You yelp, your heart hammering too fast, face burning.

“Uh huuuh. Suuure,” Keeho sings as he walks to the door, patting your head as he passes by.

Theo follows after Keeho, smirking at you. “You have our blessing, as long as you treat him nice.”

With that, you’re left with the realization you need to be far more careful than you thought you already were.

𓆩⟡𓆪

It’s past 10 PM and you’re back in the practice room. You’re stretching out your arms above your head to prepare for your session with Soul when you feel two arms, wiry but strong, snake around your waist from behind.

You nearly jump from the sudden contact until you catch a whiff of his familiar cologne. “You scared me,” you mutter, sighing as his lips attach to your neck.

“Mm, missed you,” Soul mumbles as he drags his lips up your skin, mouthing at the hinge of your jaw.

“Already?” You tease, placing your hands on his arms and leaning into his chest. “We were here last night,” you pause as he gently tugs your earlobe with his teeth, “and the night before.”

“Still too long,” he responds, one of his hands snaking under your shirt and pressing against your stomach, pushing your ass against his crotch. He groans softly in your ear. “Need you all the time.”

You shudder a little at his husky voice, stomach warm under his large palm as you push your hips back into him to pull more of those noises out of him.

“Straight into it tonight?” You ask, trying not to lose focus of your words as his hand snakes further up your shirt to palm at your breast through your bra. “Not even a couple runs?”

“We can do the lesson,” he says as he latches his mouth against your jaw, warm and spit slick. He can’t hold back his giggle as he adds, “You can dance on me.”

Your groan hitches when he tugs your nipple through the fabric. “Corny,” you reprimand. “We need to be more careful in front of the others. Keeho accused me of eye-fucking you.”

“But you do eye-fuck me.” His fingers are starting to inch into your sweatpants, brushing against the waistband of your panties.

You hold onto his wrist for support, trying very hard to keep your sanity in tact. This man has a way of making you loose it too fast for your liking and its starting to make you question your willpower. “Can you really blame me? You’ve seen the way you move right?”

Soul, predictably, gets flustered at the attention on him. So his retaliation is to shove his hand into your panties and press two fingers right against your clit to derail your train of thought.

“Sho— Fuck!” You keen as a shot of pleasure jolts through your body unannounced.

“Shhh,” he whispers in your ear, cocky, as he starts to circle his fingers. “Don’t want to be too loud or there’ll be nothing to hide in the first place.”

You bite down on your lip, squeezing your eyes shut as waves of pleasure roll through your body with each slide of his fingers. It’s embarrassing how wet you already are but Soul seems all the more delighted with it.

“There you go,” he praises, rolling his hard on against your ass to chase his own pleasure as he brings you quickly towards the edge. His other hand comes up to sit around your throat, not squeezing, just holding.

The action alone makes you feel heady and he isn’t even pressing down. It makes you whine, aching for more.

“Hm? What’s that?” He asks, his fingers turning more frantic. His voice sounds so sweet but you’ve been doing this for long enough to know that it’s thinly veiled deceit. “Does my pretty girl need something?”

Your eyes roll back as he speeds up and you have to take deep breaths to stave off from coming just yet. “In me,” you whine. “Your fi—ingers, in me, please.”

He stops his fingers entirely, much to your distaste, as he pretends to think for a moment while he presses his lips to the pulse point behind your ear. “No,” he says finally. “You’re going to come for me just like this first.”

Then his fingers start right back up, fast and relentless, driving you straight towards your climax at a speed your body isn’t ready for. “Shota!” You cry as your body seizes. Right when it hits you, Soul presses down on the sides of your neck, cutting off the flow to your brain and you think you see the pearly gates of heaven as you’re sent barreling over the edge, your body spasming against his tight hold.

Your legs give away and if it weren’t for Soul, you would’ve crumpled right to the floor.

You’re still tethering your mind and soul back to your body as Soul lays you down on the floor and settles between your legs.

When did he take off your pants?

He’s looking up at you with those sparkly boba eyes of his full of mischief and hunger, face flushed like he was the one who just came down from a visit to God. He’s hovering over your core as he asks, “You can give me two more, can’t you?”

You don’t even get the chance to protest before he’s latching right on to you and you’re forced to clamp your hand over your mouth to smother the screams he threatens to rip from your throat with that sinful tongue of his.

You’re not sure how long he’s buried between your legs for, or how many more orgasms he pulls out of you with just his tongue, but the small bit of your sense that’s still left intact knows it’s far more than two.

All while you’re left there, squirming under his tongue and trying to make as little noise as possible while Soul does his very best to do the opposite, seeing just how far he can take you without getting caught. That’s part of the thrill for both of you anyway; the secrecy of it all.

taglist: @jellyybelly, @jseobbie, @lycxee, @tintedsvn message me or comment to be added to my taglist! 𓆩⟡𓆪 check out my masterlist for my other works + works in progress

1 reblog = 1 virtual kiss <3

You laughed, and it wasn't long before your clothes landed beside the couch. Your bodies were pressed tightly together, a few sofa cushions fell to the floor, and you let out a moan as Keeho's mouth moved along your body.

You eventually pulled him back up to you and stared deep into his eyes. "Keeho, I need you…now!" you gasped, reaching into his boxers to feel his hard cock.

"Fuck, how could I say no to that?" he sighed, pulling his boxers down as he bent your leg to get more access to your core. He positioned himself at your entrance and thrust into you with a powerful stroke.

"Oh, fuck!" you cried out, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to pull him closer.

He groaned too, kissing your neck greedily as his fingers pinched your thighs. He began to move with strong thrusts, the couch wobbling slightly, the silence of the apartment broken by the sounds of your bodies and moans.

Each time his tip slid inside you, your eyes rolled back; it was a feeling of pure ecstasy and pleasure.

"Look at me," he pleaded, breathless, and you locked eyes. His thrusts quickened, and he bit his lip. "Keeho," you moaned, and he nodded quickly. "Say my name, don't stop," he begged, his hand on your breast where he twisted your nipple between his fingers.

"Keeho!" you repeated, and he growled softly.

"KEEHO!"

a third voice suddenly rang out, a voice that didn't belong to either of you.

Keeho raised his head, startled, and your blood ran cold. When you both looked up, Jongseob stood in the doorway, his face contorted in horror, a Coke clutched in his hand.

"Oh my God!" you cried as Keeho frantically grabbed a blanket to throw over you. "What are you doing here?" he asked Jongseob, annoyed.

"WHAT? I live here! What the fuck are you doing?!" Jongseob replied, dumbfounded.

"We all use this couch!" he added. Keeho rolled his eyes while you stifled a laugh. "I'll clean it. Can you like…please leave us alone now?" he asked, annoyed.

"What! But you—Oh my God," Jongseob said, stunned, and went back into the hallway.

"We're screwed," you said to Keeho, your face bright red.

He didn't seem to care at all, just grinned briefly and winked at you. "I'll take care of it…but first…" he began, grabbing your legs again and wrapping them around his hips.

"Let's finish what we started," he murmured, and started moving his hips again.

Theo

It was already late when you and Theo got back to the apartment. You'd been out for dinner and maybe had one or two glasses of wine too many.

On the way home, it had been hard to keep your hands off each other, and as soon as his bedroom door clicked shut, you couldn't help but fall on each other.

"You're drunk," you giggled as he pushed you backward onto the bed and carefully pulled off your pants.

"Mmm," he grinned mischievously, covering your legs with kisses and little bites. It wasn't long before the rest of your clothes followed, and his joined them.

You had turned so that Theo was sitting on the bed and you were naked in his lap. You moved your hips so that your folds rubbed over his already hard cock. "Fuck, you're driving me crazy," he whispered in your ear before kissing you passionately and letting his tongue slide into your mouth.

"We should do something about it." You whispered back and gently lifted your hips to position his cock. As you slowly lowered yourself onto him, his hands cupped your ass and he rested his forehead against your collarbone.

"Too tight, oh my god, I love it," he gasped, and you clung to his hair. When you could already feel his balls against your ass, you began to move your hips gently, the stimulation incredible. "Y/N fuck!" he gasped, lifting his head and looking at you with wide eyes.

You smiled softly and moaned as your clit brushed against his bare skin. "Baby, I need more," he sighed, and you simply nodded, a sign that he should use you however he wanted.

He gripped your ass again and moved your hips up and down, your pussy dripping wet.

"Theo, oh god," you moaned, throwing your head back.

He kissed his way down your neck, his tongue gliding over your skin, and it was like seeing stars.

The sound of skin against skin echoed in his room, and the moonlight cast a band across your naked bodies.

Theo's hips met yours, and your whole body was so tense that your pussy tightened around his cock, gripping it tightly. You were so lost in each other that you didn't even notice the footsteps in the hallway or Keeho opening the door.

"Theo, you—OH DAMN IT!"

You jumped apart instantly and stared at him in horror. "Hey…" Theo said softly, his face turning bright red.

You waved somewhat awkwardly as Keeho looked at you both with disgust. "It's my own fault, I didn't knock," he said, shaking his head, and left the room without another word.

"Should we lock the door?" Theo asked you, wide-eyed.

You looked down at each other; he was still rock hard and deep inside you.

"You want to stop now?" you asked him cautiously, shifting your hips slightly.

He cursed briefly and wrapped his arms around you again. "He's already seen us so....fuck it" he grinned and kissed you passionately before flipping you over so you were beneath him and he was now in control.

Jiung

"Okay, wait—well, no, don't wait…but…y/n, I—"

"Relax."

"I'm totally relaxed."

"No, you're not."

Jiung shifted in his desk chair, gripping the armrests and biting his lip. He'd sat down at his desk for a while to work on some new writing, but somehow he'd hit a wall of writer's block that was testing his frustration.

As if you could sense his tension, you'd come into his room to check on him. Of course, one look was all it took for you to see how tense and annoyed he was.

You couldn't stand seeing him like that; after all, he always worked so hard.

So you'd decided to help him unwind a bit.

You were now on your knees under his desk, unzipping his pants and looking at him through your long eyelashes.

"You desperately need to calm down…and who would I be if I didn't help you?"

You asked him with a wink and leaned forward to give his cock a soft kiss through the thin fabric of his boxer shorts.

Jiung gasped and stared down at you as if in a trance.

"Mmm, you work so hard" you murmured softly, your lips sliding up and down his length as your hand found its way to his balls and you gently massaged them.

"You deserve everything in the world," you hummed before your fingers caught the waistband of his boxer shorts and pulled them down as well. He was already semihard and your mouth watered.

You stuck out your tongue and licked one strong lick from the base to the tip, a loud groan escaped him and his hand instinctively slid into your hair.

After pressing a tiny kiss to the tip, you opened your mouth and slowly took him in.

"Fuck y/n." Jiung gasped, and you could feel his whole body tense. You started to slowly move your head up and down, the saliva in your mouth making Jiung's cock slide out in one fluid motion.

He threw his head back and applied a little pressure to the back of your head.

"Oh my God, this—fuck feels so good," he gasped, while you just grunted in agreement, the vibration driving him almost insane.

Just as he was about to shift his hips a little to push himself deeper into your mouth, his bedroom door opened, and Theo poked his head in.

"Hey, we're ordering some takeout. Want some?"

You froze, and Jiung flinched too. You were under his desk, and Theo wasn't supposed to be able to see you. "Um…takeout?" Jiung asked, a little perplexed, all the color draining from his face. "Yeah? Ever tried it?" Theo asked, puzzled.

You moved your head slightly, Jiung's cock twitched, and he cleared his throat quickly.

"Sure, so—yeah. I don't care what you eat…s-just pick something." He stammered, one of his hands gently stroking your hair. "Okay." Theo said, raising an eyebrow and slowly backing away.

"Oh." he added, opening the door one last time.

"Y/n is welcome to join when she's finished with…whatever she's doing under your desk." He said dryly and then closed the door.

You jerked your head back to catch your breath, and Jiung immediately blushed. "Oh my God." He sighed and buried his face in his hands. "It's kind of funny, actually." You grinned mischievously and bit your lip.

"They'll never leave me alone about this," Jiung groaned in despair.

You just laughed again and then looked down at his cock once more.

"So...you want me to stop?" you asked him challengingly.

He hesitated briefly and then looked towards the door.

"I didn't say that… just let me lock it quickly," he said and sprinted towards the door.

Intak

You and Intak had spent the whole day out, walking, visiting the zoo, and to top it all off, he'd taken you out for a nice meal.

The atmosphere in the car later was light; you'd listened to music and sung along at the top of your lungs as you drove through the streets of Seoul.

You pulled into the dorm's garage, and as soon as you turned off the engine, Intak leaned over the center console and pulled you close. Your lips met hungrily, tongues danced together, and his hands slid to your face as you ran yours through his hair.

"Intak," you giggled softly as his lips trailed down your neck and he let out a soft moan.

"Let's just go upstairs," you whispered, but your knees were already so weak you weren't sure if you'd even be able to get out. "I don't think I can wait." He breathed on your neck with a grin and grabbed your hips, lifting you into the passenger seat and placing you on his lap.

You gasped in surprise but let him.

Once you were on top of him, you kissed him again, slowly rubbing your hips against his. He groaned softly and pulled down the straps of your dress.

"Are we really doing this?" you asked quietly, a grin on your lips. He just grinned back and kissed you passionately again. In no time, you had undone the first few buttons of his shirt, his belt was unbuckled, and your dress was hiked up to your stomach.

Intak frantically pulled your panties aside as he pumped his cock and positioned the tip at your entrance.

You both held your breath as he lowered you onto him. The feeling of him inside you was indescribable every single time, and you could never get enough of him.

As soon as he was buried to the hilt inside you, you began to move. He was making you addicted, addicted to him and to his cock. By now, you didn't care that you were in an underground parking garage and in a car.

The car rocked gently as you bounced up and down along its length, Intak's hands greedily exploring your body. "Fuck, you're so beautiful," he gasped, lifting his hips to match your movements.

You moaned loudly, your head thrown back as the top of your dress slid down, revealing your breasts. Intak immediately leaned forward and took your nipple into his mouth, sighing softly as his tongue circled the sensitive skin.

Your movements became more intense and faster, your hands gripping his shirt tightly, and you had to fight the urge to rip it off. You were lost in your own little world…until a loud knock on the window brought you back to reality.

"Was that—" you started, and Intak frowned. He carefully felt for the window control and opened the window a crack.

Soul's face appeared outside, and he covered his eyes. "Your bang-mobile is blocking our manager's car…y/n, um…please move it," he mumbled, embarrassed.

You slowly pulled the straps of your dress back up, and Intak sighed in frustration. "Okay…I'll do it right away," you said shyly, avoiding Soul's eyes.

Intak closed the window again and then cleared his throat, his hands sliding down your thighs.

"Well…I guess we'll have to continue upstairs after all," he stated, sounding frustrated.

You gave a short laugh and kissed him on the lips. "You'll survive." You assured him, slowly climbing back down from him.

"Maybe…I'm not so sure about Soul tho," he snorted.

Soul

Everything was fun with Soul. Even the dullest, grayest day became fun, colorful, and simply wonderful thanks to him.

There was no one you'd rather be around, and definitely no one who could make you laugh more.

Like just now, when you two were standing in the kitchen, about to make pizza together. You'd already rolled out the dough and were spreading the tomato sauce.

At some point, Soul decided to tease you, nudging you in the side or splashing you with sauce. Just as you were playfully scolding him again for getting sauce on your cheek, he leaned close and turned your face to his.

"Wait, I'll clean it up," he murmured, lightly licking your cheek with his tongue. Your breath caught a little, especially when he licked his lips and looked down your body.

The next few minutes were a mixture of wet, passionate kisses and two bodies colliding. Your pizza was long forgotten when Soul lifted you onto the counter and ripped your shirt off.

Your fingers frantically fumbled for the zipper of his pants as Soul's lips kissed your neck, leaving a hickey. You pulled his pants down and helped him pull your own, along with his underwear, down.

He chuckled briefly when he noticed your frantic movement, but you pulled him close and cut off his laughter with a kiss. The atmosphere, which had been so carefree and innocent at the beginning, was now completely different.

All you could think about was having him right there and now. He pulled your hips tightly against the edge of the counter and shoved his cock inside you with a precise thrust.

You put an arm around his shoulder, his head against your neck while his hands gripped you tightly.

He immediately set a brutal pace—hard, energetic, focused, and merciless. It was heavenly, the way he'd make you laugh one second and then fuck your brains out the next.

"Shota-fuck!" you screamed after one particularly hard thrust from him, and he kissed you to stifle his own moan. The wet sound of your bodies echoed off the kitchen walls as you began to thrust your hips to take as much of him as possible.

Your orgasm was just beginning to form in your lower body when the kitchen light flickered on, and you both quickly squeezed your eyes shut.

"Seriously? In the kitchen? Where we're all eating?" Intak stood in the doorway, staring at you with utter disgust.

"Hey Hyung," Soul said awkwardly, while you wanted to sink into the floor. "Come on…you got a room…this-" He gestured to the room and both of you. "This is just gross," he added.

You giggled softly, and Soul's cheeks flushed. "Sorry." He grinned, but Intak just shook his head in disbelief and switched the light off again.

When Soul turned his head back to you and looked at you, you both burst into peals of laughter, and he carefully pulled away from you.

"Maybe…we should eat first and then finish this in my room," he suggested, kissing you tenderly.

You laughed again briefly but nodded. "Good idea, but could we maybe change the order?" He grinned wickedly and stroked your lower lip with his thumb.

"I love the way your brain works."

Jongseob

You had planned your day off down to the last detail. You wanted to sleep in, have a huge breakfast, do some exercise, and maybe even do a little shopping.

You had envisioned it all perfectly and could hardly wait. What wasn't on your list, however, was your boyfriend waking you up in the morning with passionate kisses and running his hands down your body.

"What time is it?" you murmured as Jongseob's lips nibbled at your earlobe and pressed a wet kiss behind it.

"Time is a construct," he murmured with a smile, turning your face towards him. One look into his eyes was enough to melt. You grinned and leaned towards him to kiss him lovingly.

He responded immediately, rolling onto you so that he had full access to your body.

"What's gotten into you?" you murmured against his lips, playing a little with the hair on the back of his neck. "It's not my fault that you look so gorgeous in the morning." He grinned and waggled his eyebrows.

"You can't be serious," you giggled, and he looked at you with mock shock. "Do you think I'm lying?" he asked, then sighed dramatically. "Guess I'll show you how serious I am," he said and disappeared under the covers.

Before you could react, you felt him pull down your sleep shorts and your panties right after.

Your breath caught in your throat as you felt his lips on your thighs and his fingertips approaching your core. He gently spread your legs, and you could feel his hot breath on your pussy. It was exciting because you couldn't see what he was doing, only feel it.

His fingers began massaging your folds, spreading them, and slid gently over your clit. You threw your head back onto the pillow and moaned softly as he touched your clit for the first time with the tip of his tongue.

"Shit," you cursed, and he grunted in agreement.

His tongue grew more eager, his lips joined in, and he took in the way you began to writhe. You could feel his lips closing around your clit, practically making out with your pussy.

Your moans grew louder, and you had to press your hand over your mouth to keep from screaming the apartment down.

Jongseob seemed to like it; his grip on your thighs tightened.

Your euphoria was abruptly interrupted, however, when the bedroom door flew open and Jiung stood in the doorway with his toothbrush in his mouth.

"Oh, hey!" he mumbled as your blood froze. "Where's Jongseob?" he asked, confused. "I'm here," came the reply from under the covers, and you closed your eyes in disbelief.

Jiung was silent for a moment, staring at you, then at the covers, and then back at you.

"Oh…wow," he said, surprised, but with a nod of almost appreciative approval. "I just wanted to let you know we need to be at the studio in an hour," he said, while you couldn't quite believe this was actually happening.

"Got it. Thanks, Hyung," Jongseob replied, his voice muffled as he poked his thumb out from under the blanket so Jiung could see him.

Jiung just chuckled and winked at you before closing the door behind him. You threw the blanket back and stared at him in disbelief.

"What the hell was that?" He just laughed and kissed you on the lips. "Relax, Jiung's cool." But your expression told him you were serious. He smiled slightly and tilted his head.

"If you want, I'll talk to him."

"Absolutely," you snorted, and he chuckled. He was just about to get up when you pulled him back.

"Not now…you've got something to finish first!" He looked at you in surprise, then grinned wickedly.

You were just happy that you got along so well with all of them. Of course it helped that they were all genuinely good people, it made work days like today more bearable.

The boys were filming a new music video and you were tucked off to the side scrolling through your phone, waiting until someone called for you. The set was loud, busy, and hectic as usual, so you were glad for the 10 minutes of peaceful scrolling you had.

You were in your own cloud, oblivious to the chaos unfolding around you, which is why you were genuinely shocked when you felt someone's arms wrap around you from behind.

You froze. Every muscle locked.
Two arms around wrapped around your shoulders, a warm chest pressed against your back. You glanced at the hands dangling in front of you and caught site of the scull ring. Soul.

You don't know why you tensed so much. Maybe it was because yes, you were friendly now, but you've never had any physical contact with them let alone a hug and from behind?!? Maybe it was also because of your tiny, minuscule, molecular-level crush, but you were stunned.

He dropped his arms immediately.

You spun around, eyes wide, and found him already blushing.

“I—I’m sorry,” he stammered, bowing slightly. “I didn’t mean— sorry—”

And before you could say a single word, he fast walked away, and you watched his retreating figure with wide eyes.

The rest of the day? He didn’t come within ten feet of you. The next few days? He barely looked in your direction.

And it sucked. It sucked more than it should’ve.

—

You were sitting in a hallway a few days after the incident staring blankly at the schedule on your tablet when a shadow fell over you.

You looked up at the culprit and found Keeho staring down at you, one eyebrow raised so high it was almost touching his hairline.

“You’re moping." he said bluntly.

You blinked. “I’m not moping.”

“You look like a kicked puppy,” he said, sitting down. “What’s wrong?”

You hesitated for a second, wondering if it would be okay to open up to him about his member but you were desperate and just wanted things to be back to normal, and he knew Soul better than anyone.

"Your friend is what's wrong."

"Soul?"

Your head whipped to Keeho and you narrowed your eyes. Keeho smiled sneakily and shrugged his shoulders. "Lucky guess?"

You groaned and threw your head back against the wall, and moaned in pain when you made contact harder than you meant.

Keeho cringed at the action as you hung your head low against your chest now, rubbing the painful spot on your head.

"Of course he told you."

"If it makes you feel any better I had to bug him about it because I noticed he was moping too."

"But it was just a misunderstanding I swear!" You looked at Keeho with pleading eyes as he nodded in understanding.

“I really wasn’t uncomfortable or anything," you finished quietly. “I was just surprised. But now he probably thinks I hate him or something.”

Keeho puffed out a breath and shook his head. “Yeah… Soul does that sometimes. He hugs people to show his care and affection. He forgets some people have boundaries. He probably thinks he crossed yours.”

Your mouth fell open. “It wasn’t like that at all.”

“I know,” Keeho said with a shrug. “So tell him. He’s not gonna bring it up first. He’ll just silently suffer forever.”

"Well I would if he'd let me. Every time I get close to him he leaves the room."

Keeho gave you an exaggerated look of confusion. “Okay....Then corner him.”

“…What?”

He jerked his chin toward the stairs. “He’s upstairs in the practice room alone right now.”

Your eyes went wide. “Right now?”

“Mhm.”

You blinked. “You think I should?”

“Mhm.” he repeated.

You nodded slowly, pondering on what you would say when his voice cut through the silence.

"Do you like him?"

You froze at the question and looked around the hallway. "Are you talking to me?"

Keeho laughed at your reaction and repeated his question. "Do you like Soul?"

Your whole face heated immediately. “What does that have to do with anything...”

“HA! You're not denying it.” he sing-songed, standing and stretching.

“Keeho—”

“I already could tell but that was just confirmation. You have my blessing." he declared dramatically as he walked away.

You scowled at him loudly.

But you still went looking for Soul.

—

You found him alone in a practice room just like Keeho said, adjusting something on the speaker.

Soul blinked up at you, clearly startled. He scrambled to his feet a little too fast, nearly tripping over his own bag before steadying himself. His hands went straight to his pockets, shoulders tense.

“Um… hi.” he said quietly.

You stepped inside and closed the door behind you. “Hi.”

Silence wrapped around the room. Soul looked at the floor. The wall. The mirror. Anywhere except at you.

You swallowed. “Can we talk? Just for a second?”

He nodded slowly, eyes still flicking away from yours with a nervous chuckle. “Yeah. Okay.”

You walked a little closer, close enough that he had to look at you. You took a steadying breath.

“So… about the other day.”

His shoulders stiffened instantly.

“I—I’m really sorry,” he rushed out, eyes darting down. “I shouldn’t have hugged you without asking. I wasn’t thinking and I— I made you uncomfortable and I—”

“No,” you cut in softly. “That’s what I wanted to talk about.”

He finally lifted his gaze, hesitant and nervous.

You took one more small step toward him. “I wasn’t uncomfortable. At all.”

He blinked, confused. “…You weren’t?”

You shook your head. “No. I was just surprised. You’ve never hugged me before, and it just… caught me off guard. That’s why I froze. Not because I didn’t like it.”

His brows lowered slightly, like he was processing that.

“And I felt awful,” you continued, “because I realized you thought you crossed a boundary. But you didn’t. I promise. I never wanted you to feel bad about it or think I was upset.”

He let out a breath that sounded like he’d been holding it for days.

“…Really?” His voice was small. Hopeful.

“Really,” you said gently. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You just surprised me. That’s all. Here, see."

Before he could say anything you stepped forward and wrapped your arms firmly around his waist, pushing your body against his.

You felt his breath catch and his whole frame go rigid for half a second just like yours had. You settled your head against his chest, right over his heartbeat..
It was thudding so fast you actually blinked in surprise before a smile slowly grew on your face.

You softened your hold, fingers curling into the back of his shirt as you leaned further into him, coaxing him to return the hug.

Slowly and tentatively you felt his hands lift from his sides. They hovered for a second and then he wrapped his arms around you.
he was careful at first then tighter, pulling you in like he couldn’t help it.

Your smile deepened.

He lowered his cheek to the top of your head, his breath warm against your hair. You could feel him relax piece by piece, his body molding against yours until it felt like the most natural thing in the world to be standing here in your arms.

Neither of you spoke.
Neither of you moved.
It felt… right.

After a long moment, you slowly leaned back just enough to look up at him, keeping your arms around his waist. Soul’s grip lingered too, not yet wanting to let go.

Your chin settled lightly on his chest as you tilted your head back, meeting his wide, shy eyes from inches away.

“See?” you whispered. “Not uncomfortable.”

His lips parted, and color rushed up his neck, spreading across his cheeks and all the way to the tips of his ears as he tried to suppress his smile, but ultimately failed.

You suddenly realized how close you were, and now, you were blushing too. You tried to hide it by clearing your throat as you stepped back to put a little distance between you.

“S-sorry,” you mumbled, eyes darting away with a chuckle. “I guess that was more than a friendly hug.”

Soul stared at you like he was trying to memorize the moment. “It’s… okay,” he said softly. “I didn’t… mind.”

Your gaze snapped back to his again, and the air between you felt different now, simmering with tension.

He looked at your lips.
You looked at his.

He inched forward to close the gap you had created, hand slowly reaching out to grasp yours. Your stomach fluttered, heart racing, and somewhere deep in your mind you could feel the box unlocking.

“Soul…” you whispered, unsure if you were warning him or asking him.

His other hand came up, fingers trembling a little as they cupped your cheek. You leaned into his touch automatically, your heart flipping.

His throat bobbed as he swallowed, and he spoke so quietly you barely heard him. "Can I kiss you... not in a friendly way."

A tiny puff of air left you, half a laugh, half disbelief.

“Yes,” you breathed out, smiling without even meaning to. “Yeah. Yes.”

The relief that washed over his face was instant and overwhelming.

His eyes softened, his lips parting just the slightest bit, and he stepped closer, closing the final inch between you.

“Okay.” he whispered, more to himself than you.

And his lips brushed yours.

Your hands slid up to his shoulders, holding onto him as his fingers brushed your jaw, then your cheek, then the back of your neck. His other hand tugged lightly at your waist, pulling you in until your chest pressed against his.

You smiled a little against his mouth, you couldn’t help it, and he felt it, letting out the cutest laugh before kissing you again, slower, and deeper.

You were so caught up in each other that neither of you heard the door open.

“Practice time—” Keeho stepped in, followed by the rest of the members, “—oh.”

You and Soul immediately jumped away from each other. Your faces flushed even deeper as you refused to look at each other.

Keeho's however lit up brightly.

“Awwww,” he cooed, dragging the word out obnoxiously as he clasped his hands together. “Look at you twooooo.”

You wanted to pass away on the spot.

“Keeho—” you tried, voice cracking.

He ignored you completely. “Did you kiss and make up? Well… clearly.”

Your whole face erupted in heat. “I—I have to—okay goodbye—” You bowed awkwardly and practically fled the room, nearly tripping over your own feet on the way out.

He blinks at you as he processes the slew of information.

“Kissing scene?”

“Yeah.”

“Early?”

“Yes.”

“...You want to learn… from me?”

You nod, hugging the script to your chest like a makeshift shield in case he hits you with a no. “Yes?”

He blinks again, unsure of whether to believe his ears. When he processes that yes, this request is completely serious, he turns even more flustered. “You could’ve given me a warning or something,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “But I mean, yeah, sure.”

You jump in glee, visibly relieved, and yank him from behind the counter. “I knew I could count on you!” You exclaim as you start pulling him to his room.

“Wait, we're doing this right now?!” He squeaks as he’s dragged along.

You stop and turn to him, raising a brow. “Would you like to set an appointment instead?”

He flushes again and shakes his head. “No. No, we can do it now.” He hates that his voice cracks, but bless you, you don’t mention it as he follows you into his room like a helpless puppy and shuts the door behind him.

What’s wrong with him? He’s usually much smoother than this around girls, he has no problems keeping up with them when things get going but here he was, stumbling over his words with his voice cracking like a freaking teenager’s.

And here you are, his best friend since childhood, barging into his dorm room and asking him to teach you something so… intimate. Well, he’s never thought of kissing as that much of an intimate thing. But with you? With someone he cherishes as much as his own family, it sounds far more intimate (and intimidating) than he thinks he can handle.

But you wouldn’t ask him for something like this if it weren’t important to you. You’ve finally landed your dream role and you’ve been a nervous wreck ever since getting it. He can see it in the way you’re flipping frantically through the pages and scanning through the lines that you want to do this right, even if it's something as minor as practicing kissing of all things.

What kind of a friend would he be if he turned you away and left you stranded? You’ve been there for him whenever he’s needed and this was the time for him to prove to you he’s just as useful.

So he pushes aside that nervous anticipation festering in his chest and clears his throat. “What do you need me to do?”

“Uh… Is it okay if we go through the scene?” You ask. You look up at him then quickly retract. “Actually, that might take too much time and I don’t want to hold—“

“No,” he cuts in, taking the script from you. “No, let’s do it. Let me help you. Besides I wanna do this someday too so this’ll be good practice.”

He sees your nerves visibly settle as you give him a grateful smile. “Thank you, Taki.”

Taki. He can’t understand why the nickname makes his head buzz now when you’ve used it a million times before. He forces a smile back before looking down at the script.

“Okay, we start from here?” He points to the highlighted line.

When you nod, he takes his position, sitting on the edge of his bed. You follow his lead, moving to stand between his legs. He ignores your proximity to focus on the lines, only a few of them that you’ve marked out for this scene, but the aroma of your jasmine perfume keeps pulling his attention back to you and the way you’re so, so close.

You’re standing above him, staring at his head as he reads, fidgeting with the sleeves of your shirt. You weren’t nervous when you asked him to do this but now that he’s agreed, now that you’re here? Nervous is an understatement. What if you’re terrible? What if you’re so bad that they fire you? You’ll never get a role again because what kind of an idiot can’t even kiss properly? You’re old enough to have acquired this skill by now but it’s not your fault that—

You’re pulled out of your thoughts when Intak takes your fidgety hands and places them on his shoulders, the script left beside him on the bed.

“Relax,” he says, giving you a warm smile. “I’m here to teach you, right?”

It’s like he can read your mind. Of course he can, this is Intak, your Taki, doing you this massive favour when he very much did not have to.

But you feel safe in his smile and in his hands, so you give him a determined nod. “Right. I’m ready.”

He nods and shuts his eyes, taking a deep breath before pushing it out. When he opens his eyes, he’s not Intak anymore. “Mi-Ji,” he says, and it takes you a second to realize he’s started. “We’ve been through this before. It always ends with one of us getting hurt.”

You’re a little starstruck with how easily he falls into it, how easy he makes it for you to follow in. You let yourself settle into Mi-Ji before you respond.

“But isn’t that the fun part?” You ask, sliding your hands up from his shoulders to cup his jaw. You feel him swallow under your palms as you slide onto his lap, straddling him. “Doesn’t it make you feel alive?”

You notice him make his breath shake and his eyes flutter down to your lips for a quick second. His hands are warm against you as they slide up to hold your waist. “We’re making a mistake,” he says, pulling you flush against him.

You fight off a gasp. You didn’t think he would act out all the little details, but you’re grateful for his dedication to the scene. “Some mistakes are meant to be made,” you whisper, not having to try very hard to make your voice sound breathless.

His tongue peeks out to wet his lips, the unexpected motion bringing your eyes down to them. “Are you saying this is meant to be?” He’s staring at your lips now and the heat in his gaze makes them tingle.

“Isn’t it?” You whisper, dragging one hand to the back of his head, burying your fingers in his hair.

His eyes flutter closed for a second before they snap up to yours and you find yourself frozen, locked under his gaze.

“Then make it count,” he says, his voice low and edged with a demand that makes your stomach turn.

You don’t think as you press your lips to his, you’re pulled to them like a moth to flame. He wastes no time before he’s moving his lips against you. It’s slower than you expect, slower than the scene calls for, unfamiliar but so warm the way his lips hold yours.

He pulls back a little when he feels your breath already run short. “Just follow my lead, yeah?” He whispers before he’s pulling you right back in with his hand behind your neck.

It comes easier this time and you fall into a rhythm with him. It feels… nice, you realize, melting into the kiss. Nicer than you’d expect.

But when he tilts his head to deepen it, it feels like you might lose your head with how intoxicating it feels. You wrap your arms around his neck and press harder against him to chase that feeling.

Intak whimpers and you think you’re about to lose your damn mind. Both of his hands move down to grip your hips to keep you solid against him and you’re plagued with the need to pull more of those noises out of him. It's a need that buries itself under your skin and itches for you to sate it. You need to hear more of him or you feel like you might implode.

So you chase for more and you're not sure how long you're chasing for before he pulls away with a raspy whisper of your name.

He looks— gone. Eyes blown wide as he looks up at you, plush lips kissed pink and shiny, cheeks flushed a pretty scarlet.

He whispers your name again, broken and needy. That’s when you feel it. The pressure between your hips. “Tell me to stop,” he pleads, but his eyes beg a different story.

You can’t stop. You know you can’t. Not when you’ve had a taste of him, your Taki, in a state of ruin like this. You wonder just how much more you can ruin him.

You push your hips down against him, gasping when the pressure hits you just right and spreads tendrils of fire up your spine.

Intak’s jaw drops as he groans, eyes squeezing shut, and his head tilting back as he chases your hips with his, his grip on you tightening. You roll your hips again and he whines.

“Taki,” you breathe, your own voice pitched high with need as you keep chasing the friction. “I don’t want to.”

He groans out a tortured, “Fuck,” before he’s picking you up by the hips and throwing you down to your back against his sheets, climbing on top of you with such a haste like it would kill him if he couldn’t have more of you right this second.

You don’t blame him because you feel like you’re dying the longer you don’t have him against you.

He saves you the pain as he slots himself right between your legs again with a pointed grind against your core, and swallows your moan with his lips.

It’s messy now, all sense of control and restraint gone as he licks into your mouth and takes and takes and takes.

Your hands are gripping the back of his shirt, your legs are thrown around his waist, your hips are lifted off the bed as you chase the pressure again and again.

Intak gives just as good as he takes, one hand on your hips to guide you against him, the other holding the back of your neck.

“Taki,” you whisper against his lips, just to taste the sound of his name like this.

He doesn’t stop but his rhythm gets choppier as he’s pushed closer and closer to the edge. It should embarrass him to lose to you this quickly, when you’re both still clothed for fuck’s sake, but he can’t bring himself to care when he has you under him like this, breathing for him, moaning for him, aching for him.

“Need you,” he pleads into your mouth, teary eyes bearing into yours. “Please— nngh— need you, need you so bad.”

“Yours,” you gasp, eyes rolling back at a harsh grind. “’M all yours.”

He kisses you again, hard. He’s eager and he’s noisy and it’s the thing that brings you to your ruination far too fast.

It hits you all at once, lighting every fibre of your body, burning every inch of your skin. Your eyes roll back as you arch up off the bed, nails digging into his back, jaw going slack as a silent scream rips out of you.

Your hips spasm against his as the last shocks of your climax roll through your body. It throws Intak off the edge as he loses his rhythm and comes with broken whines into your slack mouth, both hands clutching onto your hips tight enough to leave a reminder of tonight for weeks to come.

You lay in each other for what feels like hours, heavy breaths mingling with the air of ‘what the fuck did we just do?’

You’re staring up at the ceiling and Intak’s still splayed on top of you, head tucked under your chin. It’s not an unfamiliar position for either of you, but it’s never been in the context of… this, and you’re not sure how to approach all this coming out of it.

Then he’s suddenly shuffling and lifting himself up on his hands and knees over you, looking down at you with all the seriousness of a disgruntled puppy. “That wasn’t in the script,” he says with such earnestness that it‘s just ridiculous enough to make you laugh.

“No,” you say, putting your hand to the back of his neck to bring him down in a sudden surge of confidence. “Neither is this.”

Just before your lips can meet, the door bursts open and your heads snap up to the intruder.

Jiung takes one look at the state you’re both in, sighs, says, “Keeho’s looking for you,” and shuts the door.

Intak looks back down at you and blinks. “…to be continued?” He asks, lips pulling into that impish smirk of his.

You grin as you push at him, already scheming of ways to ruin him all over again. “Hurry back.”

He gives you an overly enthusiastic smooch before he’s jumping up and rushing out of the room.

“Wait— change your pants first!”

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