you're no fool to mingi's antics. he's been grinding on you for the past hour, hands gripping your hips, lips on your neck leaving sloppy kisses you had to physically tear yourself away from him or you'll actually end up fucking. "baby, please, not now." it's a meek warning. the fact that you can't even hide how hot and flustered you are makes his dick throb even harder. you're so small, so easy to hide. plus it's nighttime and the musics so deafening you can't even hear your own breathing. all he has to do is pull ur shorts to the side and whisper sweet nothings in your ear; "it's fine, baby, no one will know and no one gives a fuck. c'mon, let's have some fun." sweet, sweet nothings. "i know you want it."

and you give in.

"f-fuck baby– you make me so fucking horny. needa fuck this pussy bad." mingi's gone. his breathing's ragged, hair wet with sweat, teeth nipping the skin below your ear as he ruts into your ass; subtle and slow but deep enough to knock a strangled gasp out your throat with every thrust he forces you to take. "so good for me, fuck, you enjoying this, baby?" he chuckles. you scan the crowd, eyes darting in fear, thrill burning through your veins as you desperately cling onto every last thread of self-control; a futile attempt to seem lowkey. who tf are you kidding. there's nothing lowkey about getting fucked standind up by your six foot horny hunk of a boyfriend at an edm rave but mingi's right—no one gives a fuck.

m.list

jongseob thinks you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever laid eyes upon. from the way you smile to the air of cool-headedness you exude with every breath you take to the way your body gently rocks to the rhythmic synth of the deafening edm hits—jongseob is enamoured. captured wholly by the intoxicating tuberose that bounces off your hair with every toss and turn of your pretty little head. your pretty little face that sets his heart in disarray with every eye contact you make from the crowded dance floor. eyes seemingly taunting his; an invitation?

“just fucking go up there and kiss her already,” intak slurs, downing a fifth shot of whatever blue liquor he just swallowed—curacao and tequila? gross.

jongseob smirks, staring longingly into the sea of bodies. “it’s not what you think.”

you're too perfect.

from his left, a giggly jiung leaps from the booth and makes a dash towards the dancefloor. soul joins him, but not before knocking over two bottles of half-drunken peach-flavoured soju off the table on his way out. this triggers a distressed yell from keeho. “hey, watch it—soul, come back! you’re drunk!” 

jongseob watches closely as his two friends join you and your girlfriend on the dancefloor, bodies bouncing to the electro-pop bass, your laughter merging as one with the music. crazy, he thinks, how much he wants to whisk you away right then and there and tell you how achingly tight his chest feels watching you dance the night away with another man who isn’t him. how fucking lightheaded your presence makes him feel. how much he wants you and only you. 

“i don’t understand why you can’t just go up to her and tell her how you feel,” keeho says, leaning back into the plush velvet of the booth that he paid five grand for in honour of theo’s birthday. “worst case scenario, she rejects you. that’s it. move on. life goes on.”

“word,” theo mutters. jongseob can’t tell if he’s serious or just high off his head.

“give me that.” keeho snatches jongseob’s drink from his hand. “go.” he motions him to the dancefloor. 

jongseob stares at the older man in disbelief, words caught in his throat. “i can’t—”

“yes, you fucking can,” intak blurts. “‘cause if you don’t, i’ll make her mine by the end of the night.” 

jongseob glares.

“what,” intak smirks, “you think you’re the only one?”

jongseob feels his stomach sink in rage. of course. how fucking gullible of him. you were friends with intak long before he introduced you to rest of the boys just over a year ago at a college fair. the first time he met you, he saw stars. not in your eyes but in the entirety of you. you glowed ever so mesmerisingly and even more so when you smiled and said ‘hi’. so soft, so faint—your voice. you smelled like the dawn in spring. it irked him how close you are with intak; it irked him even more that he’s younger than you. a part of him knows it’s stupid to factor in your age gap of two years, but a part of him can't help but feel he can never stand a chance for your hand, let alone your heart. not when intak is the competition.

jongseob gets up and leaves the table. he slides a hand in the back pocket of his jeans, fingers fumbling for his lighter and a cigarette but before he could pull neither out, a force knocks the air out of chest and he's eye to eye with you. your skin glistens in a thin layer of sweat, your white tank top hugs your body in just the right places, lacy bralette peaking out from the neckline.

"hey, pretty boy." a silly grin graces your lips, "come dance with me!"

you pull him into the crowd, your bodies moving along to the music but jongseob is quiet. his eyes stare into yours with a kind of intensity that makes you wither. and you would've if not for his arm around your waist, holding you upright. the harsh denim of his acid-wash baggy jeans brushes against your bare thighs with every sway of your hips as he slowly manoeuvres your bodies through the crowd and into a shadows of a quieter hallway where the heavy bass becomes distant echoes. the stinging coldness of his silver rings against your bare back sends ripples up your spine. under the glowering red lights, you spot his bridge piercing from beneath the blonde strands of his straight, tousled hair; two silver studs between his eyes, matching the one on his lower lip.

you force yourself to look away.

head hazy. you can't think. maybe it's the music, or the little line you did earlier with intak in the men's bathroom. but it can't be, he swore it's uncut.

"having fun, angel?" jongseob mutters against your ear, pulling your body to his.

maybe it's seob.

"hmm," you slur, smiling up at him, arms around his neck, "you miss me, seobie?"

jongseob shudders at your touch, eyes half-closing, addicted to the way his name rolls off your tongue ever so endearingly. so what if he does? so what if he's possessive. so what if he's crazy for wanting you all to himself. at least he's true. and god knows he'd kill for you. can intak?

you run your finger ever so gently along his lips, feeling the coldness of his lip piercing against your touch. the world around you fades into nothingness when seob leans down and kisses you. and kisses you. and kisses you. you finally give in to his touch as he drinks your moans like it's water, fingers digging into the skin of your hips as he deepens the kiss, pushing you roughly against the stone cold wall. skirt hiked up, hair a fucking mess. fuck, fuck, fuck. you really can't think now. seob smirks, lazily dragging his kiss along your jawline and down your neck. "say you don't love him," he murmurs lowly against your skin, breath hot and heavy against your neck. "say it."

you're puzzled, still drunk from his touch, "seob, i–"

"tell me i'm yours," seob reiterates, this time almost pleadingly, eyes pining and desperate as they probe yours for validation.