Mingi’s Best Gf

"Min, I'm bored, this movie sucks, ugh!" you groan out, your words mixing with each other, rendering a semi coherent sentence, but you know he understood what you said, he always did, a lot of times you didn't even need to say anthing for him to know what you mean. It was the years spent together, going through different stages of life, some good some bad, that had made it possible.

"Hmm? I think its pretty fun, pay attention, see the plot is getting serious now." He speaks slowly, his deep voice rumbling back and forth in your head. His eyes are still focused on the tv, but his arms find your shoulder, settling in the crevice of your neck. The warmth of his hand seeping in your skin, making your head wobble.

"I dont like it, what the hell is even happening?" you whine, trying to get the warmth of his hands out of your head.

Frustrated you snatch the bottle from his hands and drink down multiple gulps of whiskey. Mingi looks at you, raising his eyebrows, he looks .... interesting. His dark hair is a mess from his own hands ruffling them, his cheeks are a little pink from the alcohol, but his lips, oh, they look so plump, almost perfect, slightly parted, breathing heavily. His expressions drop to a frown.

"Is there something wrong? On my face?" He asks, pointing a finger to himself. You flinch slightly, shaking your head. "Nuh, I guess I'm just zoning out, huh." You know it sounds like an excuse, because it is, you were totally staring at him. He shakes his head at that, turning his eyes back to the tv with a smile that looks awfully like a smirk.

You feel like you are going insane, no way you're getting all bothered by your best friend's, by Mingi's face, it must be the alcohol, you tell yourself, even though deep down you suspect that it might not be the case.

He stretches his arms, his warm skin grazing yours, making you huff out a breath. You swear he's doing this on purpose. He knows. So two can play this game right?

You move slightly towards him, enough to lean your head on his shoulder, he goes still for a mere second before relaxing back and wrapping his arms around you, caging you in a side hug. His hands rubbing slow circles on your shoulders.

His touch is so warm, and his body next to you feels so much bigger than it does from a few feet apart. He looks careless, sipping the whiskey and watching the movie. His fingers grip the bottle, the large chunky rings he always wears shining slightly from the glow of the overhead lamps. His index fingers tap around the rim of the bottle, and you can't take your eyes off them.

Irritated, you grab his hand that held the bottle, not to snatch the bottle, no, you fold your hands around his, and take a gulp from the bottle. He looks where you two's hand join on the bottle, and then, at you gulping down, his eyes follows your lips around the bottle, to your throat and finally landing on your breasts. His eyes gets fixated on them, making you look at your boobs, your nipples are hard and visible from the thin bralette and t-shirt you are wearing.

His expressions make you realize that you have a similar effect on him as he does on you. You remove your fingers from his, the lack of touch ending whatever trance he was in, making him finally look back at the tv without making eye contact with you. His face significantly more pink than it was a few moments before.

You lay your head on his shoulder again, but move your hand to his thigh, not doing anything big, just drawing circles, like was doing to your shoulder, well, its only fair if your return the favor.

He stiffens slightly, his eyes falling to your hands on his thigh, his lips parting. He looks adorable all flustered. He tries to relax and switch his attention to the movie, but you move your hands slightly upwards, caressing his thigh slowly.

"y/n" he says your name in a hushed tone, his deep voice settling somewhere in your chest.

"Hmm?"

"Don't do this."

"Do what Min?"

"Whatever this is." he says looking at your hand on his thigh.

"Huh, now I can't touch you?"

He puts his huge hand over yours, moving it downward, his touch on yours feel electric, your eyes are settled on his rings, the way they incase his long fingers make you wonder what these beautiful fingers can do. Maybe you really are drunk.

"You can touch me, just..." he trails off.

You wrap your fingers around his, rubbing your thumb on the back his palm, "Just what, you don't like it?"

"The problem is, y/n, that I do like it."

The words fall out of his mouth, and he quickly looks away, trying to snatch his hands from yours, but you don't let him.

"Yeah?" You ask with a smirk.

"Yeah"

"Well, I might like it too, who knows."

You get up slightly and put your hand on his chest, you can feel the hard muscles beneath his t-shirt, his heartbeat rapid from the alcohol, or you. Who knows.

You snake your hand to his jaw, holding it gently, his eyes go wide and his lips part, "What do you say to that Min? Would you like that?"

He slowly nods his head, his eyes glued on yours. You lean towards him, letting your lips touch his soft, plump ones.

You kiss him softly at first, savoring the flavor of alcohol on his lips that probably mirrors yours, he kisses you back just as softly, humming when he does so. You lean further into him, wrapping your arms around his neck, tilting your head. He puts his arms behind your back and pulls you on top of him, his thick thighs warm beneath you.

You move closer to him so that your chest touches his. And he tries to pull you even closer, putting his hand in your hair, grabbing a fistful. He opens his mouth letting you enter your tongue into his, a trail of saliva sliding down both of your lips.

The kiss was driving you mad, you grabbed his hair, trying to pull him even closer, you can feel yourself getting wet, warmth spreading all over your body. You can also feel his bulge, right beneath you.

He moves his hands all over your body, stopping when reaching the hem of your t-shirt, he pulls his lips back a little, a string of saliva of connecting your lips to his, "uh, y/n, can I?" He asks looking down at his hands bunching up your t-shirt, you nod frantically and kiss him again. He pulls up your t-shirt and throws it somewhere in the room and you do the same with his. You both roam your hands all over each other's bodies, your hands stop at his nipples, rubbing them softly, making him groan, he throws his head back and cups your breasts with one of his hands, his other hand slithering to your back to unhook your bralette.

You lean towards him leaving open mouth kisses on his jawline and neck and move your hips slightly, eliciting a loud groan from him. His cock under his sweats is hard, you move on top of it, slowly rocking your hips. The fabric rubbing against your clit makes you wetter as you keep moving your hips. Mingi's hands finds your hips and he starts to guide them, setting a torturous pace. You drop your head in the crook of his neck, moaning loudly from the pleasure. His groans have also turned into moans, his eyes close and head fallen back. He moves you closer and kisses you, you keep rocking your hips, not stopping the pleasure.

"Nghh– ugh, y/n don't stop, ugh—" he whimpers.

You moan into the kiss. He starts to push up his hips, wanting to increase the sweet pleasure, you move your hands downwards, pushing them under his sweats, hooking your fingers to the hem of his boxers. You look at him and he nods. You pull your body a little up and push away his sweats along with the boxer away, revealing his dick, standing against his stomach, the tip red and slick with his precum. You run your fingers over the tip, the precum collecting on your fingers. He lets out a loud moan, "nggghh- y/n please- plea—" he begs in between his breaths, his jaw dropping when he sees you put the fingers coated in his precum in your mouth, letting out a hum when tasting the slightly salty fluid.

"Please what Min? Do you want something?" You breath out, slowly sucking on your fingers.

"Ughh, you know, pleas–" you cut him off by putting those same fingers on his lips. He opens his mouth and you push them inside. He starts to suck on them, his warm tongue sliding over them. He moves his hands to your hips and pulls down your shorts. He pushes his hand in your panties, towards your cunt, your wetness coating his fingers and those chunky rings. He finds your clit and starts to rubs slow circles on it, making you moan loudly, "aarg— Mi- so good ughh–"

You take out your fingers from his mouth and tangle them back in his hair, he grabs your hips and pushes you down, so that your pussy is directly above his cock.

"Baby, I want it, can I?" he loudly whines, "Yeah–" you hiss out.

He pushes you down on him, his cock stretching you out, the sudden pleasure making you both groan, you both lean forward and kiss each other, messily, you bite on his lips slightly, before moving your hips. His hands guide your hips to set a pace so fast you think you might really lose your mind.

The pleasure grows from your lower body, enveloping you whole. His mouth finds your hard nipple, his hand on the other. You whimper as he leaves little bites on it, those whimpers develop into a loud moan when he increases the pace of his hips below you, hitting that sweet spot in you. His other hand grip your hip so hard you think it might leave a mark, not that you mind. You grab his hair and yank his head up to press your lips on his neck, sucking and biting, wanting to leave a mark of your own on his smooth skin. He removes his hand from your breast and hips letting it roam freely all over back, finally settling in your hair and neck.

"Baby– ughh it- good- ah-" he moans, his voice echoing like a sweet melody in your ears. He snakes his hand down and finds your clit, his index finger rubbing it in the same rhythm as your hips, you whine against his neck, feeling so close to your orgasm, "Min- ugh- im clo–"

"Yeah?" He breaths out, increases the pace of his fingers and pushing them a little harder on your clit, moving you so close to your orgasm. He pulls your head up and gives you a messy open mouth kiss, finally pushing you to your climax. Your body writhes on top of his, toes curling and muscles twitching, he holds onto you with one hand while his other keeps the pleasure going on your clit.

You clench around him and he whimpers, trying to pull out, "y/n, ugh- ba– stop, gonna ah- gonna cum."

"Min baby– please don't huh– move- giv– give it to me, please!"

"Baby, don't say that, aa- are you sure?"

"Min, plea- please do it." You whine between gasps as you slowly come down from your high, Mingi lets out a loud whine as his hips stutter beneath you, you feel him fill you up. The warmth climbing up your body making you sigh. He keeps on moving until his climax finishes. Exhaling a loud breath when he finally stops, slowly pulling out, leaving a cold and empty feeling inside you. He grimaces as the cold air touches him and puts his forehead against yours.

"Well."

"Well."

You both say at the same.

You look at each other for a second and burst out in giggles, laughing at yourselves.

You both wrap your hands around each other in a tight hug, "well it was a fun movie night" you say.

"Yeah it was." he replies between giggles, and picks you while standing up, "now let's get cleaned up, hmm?"

He carries you towards the washroom, and you wonder if he's into shower sex, maybe you'll fuck around and find out, you always do.

a/n: this is the first time I wrote complete like all the way smut, and let me tell you one thing, writing moans and whimpers is the most awkward thing I've done.

divider by: @/saradika-graphics and @/diviniyae

You smile when he finally notices. The tips of his ears turn pink, and he flinches, shy beneath your gaze.

"What's your name?"

When Mingi finally works up the courage to ask, he laces his fingers together, eyes lifting just long enough to study your face before they dart back down again.

You answer back softly with your name, every movement calm and effortless. Plucking an olive from your martini, you slip the toothpick between your lips and pull it free with practiced ease.

“I’m Song—”

“Mingi,” you finish for him, flashing a toothy grin.

His brows lift. “Oh... do you know me?”

Your dark eyes linger on him, impossible to read. A slow smile curls at your lips. “Something like that.”

You lean forward just enough for the movement to feel intentional. He whips his head to the side, throat bobbing when he stared at the way your tits pushed together for a second too long. You arch a brow before continuing.

“But I’ll know you even better if you come home with me tonight.”

He chokes on his Sprite, sputtering as the soda sprays across the table.

The guy beside him jerks upright with a curse, eyes bulging as he stares at Mingi.

"Dude—what the fuck?"

Mingi looks seconds away from dying of embarrassment. "...I am so fucking sorry."

The guy just shakes his head, muttering under his breath as he heads for the bathroom.

"Sorry," you say lightly. "Too forward? You can say no."

Mingi's head snaps up. "Oh, God. Please take me home with you."

The words tumble out before he can stop them.

His eyes go wide. A slow, crimson blush spreads across his face as he realizes he'd been a little... too eager. "I mean—" He squeezes his eyes shut. "Fuck."

You sit in silent victory for a couple of seconds before raising your credit card.

"Check, please?" Handing it over smoothly, you add "And I'm paying for his too."

When you make your way to the taxi with Mingi trailing behind you, you're grateful there's no moon tonight. If he'd gotten a better look at your face, he would've seen the unnerving smile etched across it. There was only one thing you had in mind:

Song Mingi, I'm nailing you to the fucking bed.

𝜗ৎ

High school was a cliché down to the T.

Boys poked and prodded at you with all the contradictions of adolescence. You were either too ugly to acknowledge or someone they wanted to sleep with in secret.

And Song Mingi stood at the forefront of it all.

He never bothered to remember your name. Instead, he'd go out of his way to laugh at you in the middle of class, just to hear everyone else join in. Crumpled balls of notebook paper bounced off the back of your head. Snickers followed you through the hallways. He'd always call you a little freak.

It wasn't just Mingi. Almost every boy in school seemed to have it out for you. You never really understood why—all you knew was that it was rarely kind.

On the better days, though, Mingi would scratch the back of his head in frustration before quietly leaving a carton of juice on your desk when you were too scared to eat in the lunchroom. One time, he shoved a guy for cornering you in the hallway.

Those moments almost felt like apologies.

Awkward and gangly, just like him. But even then, it never stopped.

When you were younger, you tried to understand him. You really did. During your self-help phase, every audiobook insisted people were more than the worst things they'd ever done. That forgiveness made you the better person.

You wanted to believe that. But you were way too fucking pissed.

From there, your life became the kind of rags-to-riches story people loved to tell. You went to college but still carried that adolescent rage with you. Every man you slept with became an emotional punching bag—a place to dump every humiliation, insult, and wound high school had left behind.

By the time you graduated, you were unrecognizable.

Confident—a little shameless, even. Years later, you stopped hiding behind your hair. For you, revenge wasn't getting even. It was becoming prettier and successful enough to look down on everyone who'd ever tried to make you feel small—from an empire you'd built with your own two hands.

And then, one day, you met the right kind of man. The kind who begged for your spit and paid you for it.

It was good money. Still is.

And quite frankly—you can't wait to show Mingi what the years have done to you.

𝜗ৎ

"You know—it's funny," you say, gaze drifting up to the ceiling with a soft sigh. The tasseled paddle taps against your palm in a lazy rhythm, like a metronome while you think.

Mingi's a mess beneath you. Spit drips in wet lines down his bobbing throat, pooling in the hollow of his twitching chest. His soft pants try to escape around the gag, strangled and useless.

He'd taken to it more readily than you expected. When you waltzed into your condo earlier that evening, you gave him the rundown fast and sharp—I don't bottom, I call the shots, here's the safeword—and tossed him the harness to see if he'd flinch.

He didn't. Just ran his thumb over the leather and asked if you had something in his size.

The harness you cinched around him earlier does exactly what it's meant to—squeezes his chest together, keeps him taut and presented. His eyes have rolled back, tears gathering at the edges of his long lashes. Strands of soft platinum blond hair cling to the sweat on his cheek, plastered there like silk against glass.

You press the button. The cock ring underneath his underwear kicks up a notch and Mingi lurches forward, hips jerking, only to be snapped back by the ropes. The restraints bite into his skin and he groans, the sound vibrating against the ball gag.

You smile.

It's enough to cut through the haze—Mingi forces his eyes open, struggling to focus on your face. You lean forward, hands braced on your knees, dropping to his eye level.

"You used to call me a little freak," you say, almost conversational. "All the time in high school."

The words hit him like cold water. It's frighteningly sobering. Mingi jolts, genuine surprise cutting through the pleasure-drunk fog.

"But look what we have here?" You tilt your head, letting the paddle trace a slow line down his sternum. "Song Mingi, the biggest jackass of my entire high school career... turns out to be the dirtiest fucking freak of them all."

His eyes roll back: hips thrusting forward on pure instinct, rutting into empty air, back arching in a sharp curve as another groan tears from his throat.

Your eyes widen, jaw dropping—and then you're laughing, bright and delighted.

"Ha! Did you just—" You lean closer, delighted. "Did you just have a dry orgasm?"

It's cute. Everything about him is so unbearably cute.

Then, all at once, a sick little epiphany settles over you.

Maybe this is what all those overpriced self-help journals had been trying to tell you all along.

Finding someone to be so pathetic can feel like forgiveness.

And now, he looks so pathetic, you adore the way he looks when he's ashamed.

You reach forward, fingers finding the buckle of the ball gag. It comes loose with a soft click, and you pull it free—a thin line of saliva trails after it, glistening in the light before you toss it aside. It hits the floor with a wet thud somewhere behind you.

You're still straddling him, knees bracketing his hips. You brace your hands on his chest, feeling the rise and fall beneath your palms, the heat of his skin through the harness.

"So," you say, quiet now. The edge in your voice has softened to something almost gentle. "Tell me, Mingi. You want to stop?"

You've had your fun. If he safeworded right now, walked out— you'd let him. No strings.

He stares up at you, eyes wide and glassy, tears finally spilling over to track down his temples. His breath hitches.

"N-no." His voice is wrecked, raw from the gag. "Please. Let me stay."

The smile that curves your mouth is genuine this time. "What a good boy."

You lean down, pressing your lips to the sharp line of his jaw, then higher—his cheek, the corner of his eye. You pepper kisses across his eyelids, tasting salt.

"Still wanna stay and fuck the girl you bullied?"

He sniffles, and the sound is almost laughable coming from someone his size—big, broad-shouldered, built like he could break you in half. But he looks so angelic and soft right now.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. "I liked you."

You go dreadfully still. "The fuck do you mean you liked me?"

Mingi swallows hard, trying to compose himself. He doesn't look at the way your thighs are pressed against his hips, the damp patch on his abdomen where you've been grinding against him.

"I didn't know how to..." He exhales shakily. "I didn't know how to deal with it. Liked—liking when people treated me a certain way."

He pauses, gathering the words like they're heavy stones.

"You probably don't remember this. But the first time we actually met wasn't homeroom."

"Sophomore homeroom, first day." you say automatically.

He shakes his head slowly. "No. Last day of freshman year. You were—some guys were messing with you in the hall. You ran into me after, literally ran into me, and you were furious. Called me a piece of shit." He hesitates, throat working. "Spit on me, too."

Your brow furrows. You don't—

"And I got hard," he confesses, voice barely audible. "Right there. Couldn't... after that, I couldn't get off to anything else. Couldn't stop thinking about it. About someone—about you—degrading me like that."

He finally meets your eyes, desperate and bare.

"So I started treating you the way I wanted you to treat me. I was shitty to you because I wanted you to be shitty back. I wanted—" He breaks off, jaw tight.

You stare at him.

"That's..." You sit back, processing. Your hands are still on his chest, but they're lighter now, almost hovering. "That's fucked up, Mingi. That's genuinely atrocious."

You shift your weight, thighs pressing harder against his hips. Your hand finds his jaw, thumb brushing the mark your slap would leave. "Safeword check. Remember what I told you?"

"Kitty." The word comes out rough, immediate. He's still locked in, pupils blown wide.

"What's your red? Your no goes."

"I don't..." He swallows. "Don't like being choked. Or spanked."

"Slapping?"

His breath catches. "Green."

Your hand moves before your brain catches up—palm cracking across his cheek, snapping his head to the side. The sound is sharp, obscene.

"You liked me?" Your voice drops, dangerous and low. You grip his chin, forcing him to look at you. "You couldn't even fucking recognize me, sick fuck."

"If you really mean it," you say, "then show me."

Your thumbs hook into your underwear, sliding them down your thighs. You step out, kicking them aside, then move over him—knees settling on either side of his head, lowering yourself until you hover just above his mouth. Close enough that he can smell you. Feel your heat.

"Then fucking eat."

Mingi doesn't hesitate. He surges up, mouth finding you with a desperation that makes your breath catch—thick lips closing around your clit, suction immediate and hungry. He drags his tongue upward in one long, flat stroke, pressing firm so he can taste all of you, everywhere, the broad muscle working relentlessly against you.

You're soaked. A thin line of wetness escapes, trickling down to his jaw, pooling in the hollow of his cheek before he swipes it away with another pass of his tongue.

He flicks the tip of his tongue rapidly against your clit. The sensation zips up your spine like current as you roll your hips, pressing down harder, grinding against the bridge of his nose until you feel the bone.

The view from above wrecks you.

Mingi's pupils are blown wide, eyes rolled back to crescents of white, lashes fluttering. The rope has bitten deep into his big arms, the skin there flushing an angry, bitter red. His platinum hair spreads across the wet sheets in tangled strands, darkening where sweat and spit have soaked through.

You have to force yourself to breathe.

Below, his hips piston upward in empty thrusts, rutting against nothing. The thin black jock you gave him strains tight, a dark, spreading patch blooming at the front where he's leaked through the fabric, desperate and untouched.

Finally, you take a closer look. Pausing your grinding almost curiously—thoroughly impressed.

"You act like such a fucking pussy," you breathe, rolling your hips down harder. "But you're hung like you could actually break me. Might snap me in half before I get the chance to break you in."

You sink lower, settling your full weight over his mouth and nose. His breath hot against your thigh.

Mingi doesn't panic at the weight of you. He doubles down, mouth working frantically beneath you, lapping and sucking like a man on a mission.

You feel him still beneath you—muscles tensing, heels digging into the mattress with a groan. Mingi tries to lap at you, almost languidly.

You reach down, fingers sliding under the jock's band, and tug him free. He's hot in your palm, throbbing, and you roll the ring off in one quick motion.

and when he cums, he cums hard.

His head snaps back, a ragged sound tearing from his throat, and he comes in thick ropes that stripe his heaving chest, his trembling stomach—one landing high enough to catch the edge of his parted lips, his flushed cheek.

You don't give him time to recover before your mouth is on him, cleaning off the excess still dribbling down the ridge of his cock.

"Sit up." You instruct.

You shift off him and move to his wrists, unbinding the ropes with practiced efficiency. Mingi flexes his fingers, opening and closing his hands to chase the blood back into them.

"Is this all you wanted?" You arch a brow, voice dropping soft. "Some attention?"

You smooth a strand of hair from his forehead, tuck it behind his ear. Your palm curves along his jaw, thumb dragging across his lower lip—pressing, testing. "Open."

He parts his lips slowly, tongue easing out in offering before flattening, stretching down toward his chin. Submissive. Empty—waiting.

"All those years acting out..." You trace his mouth with your eyes. "And this is what you were after."

Your index and middle fingers slide onto his tongue, pressing down against the wet heat of it. He's salivating already, slick gathering against your skin, salt mixing with salt.

His eyes well up—glossy, desperate—and you swear you've never seen anything this pretty. Not when his brows curve down in that perfect blend of pleasure and ache as your fingers prod the back of his throat. Not when his moans vibrate against your palm, when everything is wet: your hand, his lashes, his jaw, rivulets of spit trailing down to pool in the hollows of his collarbones.

"Or is this what you wanted?" You push deeper, feeling him gag softly around your knuckles. "My hand down your throat?"

He sits before you, hands braced on your hips, staring up with something almost puppy-like in its devotion. He nods—shameless, earnest.

"All I ever wanted." His voice is husky, worn thin with exhaustion and lingering need.

"All that effort," you laugh, "just to be used like a little toy."

You grip his cock—still slick and firm before giving him a few rough strokes. Then you lift your hips and sink down onto him in one motion, sheathing him completely.

His eyes roll back.

You pause. Five full seconds of mercy, feeling him throb inside you, watching his mouth fall open. Then you begin to move—slow, intentionally brutal of your hips against his. Your fist reaches to tighten in his hair.

Mingi stutters out a sound, half moan, half embarrassed cry that catches in his throat. "S-shit!"

It burns—his girth stretching you wide, delicious and punishing, throbbing like it has its own pulse. Your ass smacks against his thighs with every downward stroke, the skin there flushing red from impact. His whole body shakes beneath you, oversensitive and overwhelmed.

You lean down, tongue tracing the column of his throat, then hover above his mouth.

Your spit falls between you.

Mingi's lips part. His tongue catches it, heavy-lidded and delirious. He swallows slow, forcing his eyes to stay open—locked on yours, asking without words: See? Aren't I good for you?

You spit again—except this time, it falls directly between your tits. Mingi licks up your sternum, eyes still locked on yours.

Your hips roll, rise, and fall with fatal precision. Your tits bounce with the force of it.

He's fucking huge. Taking him feels like being pushed to your absolute limits—every throb and twitch forces you to accommodate him inch by inch, your body yielding to the sheer weight of him. It's a feat in itself just to fit all of him.

But then something shifts.

Mingi tilts his head back, eyes closed, offering himself up in a silent plea for the kiss he's too scared to ask for.

You answer by catching his bottom lip between your teeth, biting just hard enough to leave indentations before releasing. He sighs into your mouth as you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him close until your chests flush together. You flinch at the sudden contact—the leather of his harness, still warm from his skin, brushes against your nipples.

His tongue sweeps against yours, jaw loosening to take you deeper.

“Fuck," he breathes, hands sliding to your hips to pull you down against him. It’s urgent—hot in ways you can’t say you expected riding Mingi after years of hating him would be.

"If you cum in me, I'll kill you."

"Mhm. Fuck—" He hisses against your mouth, breath ragged as he drives you down on him. "Yes ma'am."

His palms spread over your ass, gripping tight and rocking you in a rhythm that has you gliding up and down effortlessly.

He looks over your shoulder and spreads you wider, staring down at where your bodies meet. When he pulls out to watch you gape open, you can't even summon the energy to be annoyed—you just shove him back down and ride him. Hard.

His hands grip your waist, admiring the way you bounce on his cock, the soft give of your body. He looks at himself, at the white mess coating his shaft. "So fucking creamy."

You grab his face, pinching his cheeks until his mouth puckers, then slap him—sharp—and shove two fingers past his lips, gripping the wet heat of his inner cheek as you slam down on him.

"Shit—you feel so good," he whines, long blonde hair falling into his eyes. "Wait, I'm cumming—"

His face goes panicked, puppy-desperate. You smile softly. “Mhm. You can cum on my tummy."

You fall back, working your clit to finish yourself off, fighting the urge to pull him deeper and cave to your (covert) need to have him cum inside do you.

His large body shadows yours as he buries his face in your neck with a cry, once you rub the tip of his cock with the palm of your hand.

"Clean it," you manage, barely audible.

Mingi drags his tongue across your hipbone, down the soft curve of your stomach, licking himself off you with something like tired worship. He finds your hand, sucking at your palm, sliding wet kisses between your fingers.

He lies flat then, face buried in your thigh, and spreads you open to taste what's still dripping from you.

Wordlessly, you pull him into your arms and cradle him against your chest.

You brush his hair back from his forehead, cupping his face as your thumb gently wipes the sweat from his temple.

“…I really did like you back then,” he mumbles, his face still buried between your breasts.

You let out a quiet hum. “Oh? Did you now?”

He groans into your chest. “God… fuck high school. Truly.”

His arms tighten around your waist.

More than anything, he hopes high school Mingi hasn’t completely ruined things for the version of him that finally might get the girl.

fin.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: sub mingi in the year of our lord. a quick writeeee + bonus photos of what mingi looks like in dirty little freak :3

A/N: thank you so much for this request, it’s fun writing bratty sub san. longer than I anticipated but I hope this is in the ballpark of what you were looking for, and I’m glad you enjoy my crazy mind ^^ appreciate the support of my ateez thirst so enjoy my cherries ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊ feedback is always welcomed!

“Cut it out, I’m trying to finish this.”

“But I’m bored.” San whined, running his large hands along your thighs, and you rolled your eyes in response.

“Sannie, I mean it. Knock it off.”

Pouting like an insolent brat, he rubbed his cheek along your skin and gently placed a kiss on your knee. He was relentless and eager, not backing down or taking your words seriously. You were getting absolutely fed up with his behavior.

“Oh my god,” you huffed, fisting the front of his t-shirt and pulling him up to his feet, “don’t you know how to listen?!”

“Maybe you should teach me…” he whispered, a smug grin tugging at the corner of his mouth, one dimple peeking through.

“Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

San nodded frantically, his skin rippling with anticipation, practically drooling. The sight stirred an equal mix of lust and exasperation. This was the problem with having a plaything like San: even when he was being punished, he enjoyed every second of it.

You shoved him roughly against the wall. Frustration etched across your face while his held nothing but surrender and bliss. This report was killing you. With the deadline looming Monday morning, your stress had reached its peak.

“Please…” San begged, completely unconcerned with the project you’d been trying to finish.

“Ugh, pathetic.”

Sliding your knee between his legs, you put pressure against his hefty bulge and a choked whimper pushed from his lungs. He was cute like this—needy and desperate, weeping for you to fondle him in the most obscene ways.

“Fine, I’ll teach you, my little brat…but it’s gonna hurt.”

You pressed your knee harder against his clothed erection, and he sucked a sharp breath through his teeth, his arms twitching at his sides. From the glassy appearance in his eyes, you knew he wouldn’t stop until you made him.

Taking his hand, you swiftly led him to the bedroom, pulling on his arm as he worked to keep up before nudging him inside and closing the door behind you.

“Get naked. Now.”

He scrambled to strip out of his clothes and undergarments, tripping over his feet as excitement blazed in his eyes.

Hopeless.

Such a simp.

The mere thought of touching you had his cock visibly twinging as he sat on the bed.

“Lay down on your back,” you ordered, grabbing the red ribbons from your dresser.

As instructed, San obediently laid on his back. You strolled over to the headboard, carefully tying each of his wrists to the porcelain bars. Admiring his vulnerability, blood buzzed in your ears, your gaze trailing up and down his body.

He looked good enough to eat.

Your stares met as you undressed slowly. You moved to stand over him, tracing your fingers along the tense muscles in his biceps. San growled low in his chest, tugging against his restraints to get to you.

“Behave.” Your stern voice calmed him as he settled against the sheets.

His hungry stare studied you in awe, catching his lower lip in his teeth, impatience clawing its way through him. It made you giggle—the way he became so crazed whenever he was needy and knowing the torture that awaited him only made it that much more thrilling.

“You haven’t been a very good boy, have you?” you asked teasingly as you kneeled onto the bed and straddled his waist.

Breath hitched in his throat as he shook his head, his body quivering beneath your hands splayed across his wide chest. San oozed devotion. He craved this—to be in service to no one but you. Your fingertips skimmed over the hard planes of his abdomen and he groaned in delight.

It earned a pleased hum from you, relishing in his submission.

You started by rutting your hips gradually, dragging your wet folds over his aching shaft at a tempered pace. His eyes glossed over while his lips parted slightly—he was gagging for it. Knuckles flexed as he helplessly grabbed at the air. Your movements were already driving him crazy, his gaze pleading for relief. Fuck, it was delicious.

“Be careful what you wish for, baby,” you cooed, caressing his hips in your palms, dripping along his length with ease.

“Fuck…p-please…” he breathed raggedly, throwing his head back against the pillow and cursing your name.

“Please what?”

“Please…please…p-please…”

He repeated the word over and over again, the pitch of his tone rising and falling as your hips rolled against him. The slower your rhythm, the more he gasped, shaking his head side to side as if that would help end his suffering.

“Please what, Sannie? Use your words.”

You leaned forward and reached between your thighs, gripping his cock tightly, forcing a strangled cry from his lips. All that followed was incoherent babbling, broken moans and weak attempts to gather more slick friction from your cunt.

“Yes, please, baby…y-yes…p-please put it—”

“God, I love how vocal you are,” you held him at the base and tapped the swollen tip of his cock over your entrance, coating him with your juices, “hmm…makes me so wet.”

“Mmm…yes, baby…please—put it in…p-please…”

Your hips rocked, gliding him along your holes and watching him fall apart at the seams. He squirmed relentlessly, desperate wails escaping him each time you pressed him to your hot core. San was losing his mind as you teased him, tears prickling at his lash line.

“Is this what you want?” Your mingled breaths filled the room as you flicked him along your pussy, still refusing to let him inside.

“Yes, p-please…yes, I want it—baby, I want it…” San rasped, fiercely yanking at the ribbons now.

“You’re not breaking free no matter how hard you try.”

Now here’s where it got good. You gave his cock one tender stroke between your curled digits before pushing just the tip inside your spongy walls. His body drew tight like a bowstring at the sensation, thigh muscles coiled and his forearms bulged as he strained.

“Fuck, please…please…more—please, put—more…”

His voice—dry and hoarse—echoed in your ears, the pitiful melody stirring the flames in your gut as your pussy clenched around him. You held your hips in place, not daring to sink down and satisfy his urges—no, he had to wait a little longer.

“You want to be inside me? Hmm, baby?”

“Yes, yes, yes, please!”

The rushed reply amused you a bit too much, and you couldn’t help but laugh, his cheeks blushing pretty pink in embarrassment. Suddenly, he bucked his hips up and drove himself a bit deeper into you but you instantly slipped him out of your flesh.

“Ah, ah. Tsk, tsk. Bad boy.” The realization flashed across his face, and satisfaction warmed your chest. The worry in his eyes was intoxicating.

You smoothed his tip in lazy circles over your throbbing clit, your arousal and his precum mixing sloppily and trickling onto his groin. Your bodies grew sticky with fluids and sweat that gathered, gluing your skin together.

“I’m s-sorry, please…” San grunted, chest heaving as he blinked away the tears blinding his vision.

Your nails dug into his ribs, a dark smile spreading across your lips as greed overwhelmed you, licking your lips with carnal desire.

“You think you deserve to be inside me?” you spat harshly through your teeth, taking in his trembling form as he shook his head.

“No, I don’t…but I need you…”

“And I needed to work, so now you’ll wait.”

San fumbled over his words, not making any sense or perhaps it was your brain not giving a damn about what he wanted. He wanted to play, and now you were. His head bowed back into the pillow as his back arched, grasping for more of you but you wouldn’t let him.

Still, you kept him on edge—continuing your torment and swirling your folds across his slit, tricking him time and time again by pretending you were finally granting mercy before sliding him along your soaked holes.

“Please…baby—please I want to be inside you…please!”

Something in you tiptoed closer to caving, your own orgasm knocking nearby as you used him to stimulate your own needs. San jerked his hips, luring your attention and his fingers curled into fists, every muscle driven by raw instinct. His insatiable appetite was something you were very familiar with.

You had him right where you wanted him.

“Mmm…like this, Sannie?” You slipped him up and down along your entrance, moaning low in your throat.

“Yes…yes, I want it…please, yes.”

“Yeah, you want it?” Pushing him against your tight hole, you popped his fat tip back inside, your center squeezing him with a sweet vice.

“Yes, please. Yes, please. Yes…yes…please…please…”

Eventually, you gave in and seated yourself around him, completely engulfing his cock in your wet heat. You pressed your foreheads together, caressing his face in your hands as you breathed heavily into each other’s mouth.

His cock stretched you inch by inch, your body swallowing him whole, the piercing hunger sweltering your bodies as you lay against him.

“Oh my god!” he cried out, still fighting to touch you with his hands, but you were in charge here and that meant only you were allowed to have that privilege.

“Mmm, that feels good, baby?”

Not giving him a chance to answer, you crashed your lips against his and collected his flustered moans into your mouth. The kiss was ravenous and fiery as you rode him into oblivion, bouncing your hips against him hard and stuffing his cock to the hilt of your pussy.

“Baby, don’t stop…don’t—” San cut his own words off by catching you off guard and biting your lip.

You straightened your back, narrowing your eyes at him. He paid no mind to your anger. His focus remained on escaping the binds, though each shift of your hips quickly stole his concentration.

It was unbelievable that today of all days he wanted to push your buttons and test limits.

“Is that how you want to play?”

“I want to touch you. Please let me.”

“No, and don’t ask again.”

Immediately, one hand wrapped around his throat while the other pinned flat down on his taut abdomen. The expression painted on his face was one of terror and ecstasy as you added more weight to his vocal cords. The blend of pain and pleasure only emboldened him—for now.

By the time he grew accustomed to the speed of your hips, you took it up a notch—working your thigh muscles faster, pounding and slapping your ass along his pelvis. The fractured gasps he inhaled every time his cock disappeared inside you gave you the motivation to keep it up.

Besides, he deserved it.

“Baby…baby…”

His breathless pleas went in one ear and out the other, the sizzling ache in your gut building to unstoppable heights as you massaged his cock in your stifling, tight walls. San’s arms inevitably go limp, unable to fight with the ribbons any longer.

Sweat gathered along your brows as your muscles grew sore, but you forced yourself to keep going, especially now that San was shaky and lightheaded, letting you use him entirely.

“That’s a good boy,” you purred, exhaling heavily as you drove his cock repeatedly into your g-spot like second nature, twisting the coil with reckless abandon.

The praise traveled down his spine—molten and bright—and he melted further into your touch. Whatever fight remained in him was no longer for freedom, but for another word of approval.

“Shit…fuck—baby…can I—can I…” he stuttered, his knuckles whitening as his chest heaved, attempting to ground himself.

“Spit it out, Sannie…”

“C-Can I—please…cum? Can I—c-cum, please?”

There was nothing he could do to stop it and the devilish smirk curling at the side of your mouth confirmed it—you had all the power. Just as a simple reminder, your hips ground down on him aggressively, kissing your cervix to his heated tip.

“Please…! Please, c-can I?”

The crackling strain snapped within you both, passionate moans falling from your lips simultaneously as your intense tempo gradually increased.

“Go on, then…” you mewled, pussy clenching onto his cock as a white haze invaded your vision, “…breed me, big boy.”

One, two more thrusts and San stilled, cock throbbing deep within your core and pumping his hot cum into your gut. He cursed and grunted your name as your cunt fluttered around him, the dripping tension sending your splintering orgasm to every nerve in your body.

The explosion knocked you off balance and your body collapsed on top of him, face nesting in the crease of his neck as you pulsed along his flaccid length. San’s exasperated pants ghost over your ear and he chuckled lightly, fading the dazed hue in your mind.

“Your pussy s’good baby…”

“Mmm…can’t get enough, can you?”

A pinch of fright shot through San as you sat upright, glaring down with a deadpan expression. His stare—dark and low—expressed a sort of…peace and you aimed to disrupt that.

“N-Never…y/n…?”

“Shh, baby, relax…” you murmured, tone reassuring but commanding at the same time, your thumbs tracing idle shapes on his hips as you spoke.

You leaned forward, acting as though you were about to kiss him, and lifted your hips in tandem. After sliding him out of you, keeping in only the tip as leftover cum leaked down his shaft, you sat your full weight back down and buried him deep inside you.

“Fuck—baby…wait, I—” You clamped a hand over his mouth, stopping his words in their tracks.

“No more talking, brat.”

The sex became utterly ruthless—milking his cock with the same brutal rhythm as before, and you were entranced every time he shattered into pieces. He’d dug his own grave, and now you were determined to make him lie in it. After losing track of how many loads he’d filled you with, the air grew thick with sweat and ragged breaths, your bodies refusing to cool.

His body had memorized the routine—dick goes limp, then half stiff to fully erect again until your pussy drains his balls empty, repeat.

He’d howl and cry into your palm, struggling against the ribbons until he accepted his fate. You imagined his nerves were being electrified until he was numb and fried.

All because your cunt owned him.

Truthfully, he made it too easy for you to get him hard and clearly his cock, overly sensitive or not, couldn’t shake his constant urge to be stuffed inside you. San’s hazy, fragile eyes sparkled and you finally removed your hand from his lips.

“I can’t- I—please, it’s t-too much…fuck.”

“Shhh…yes, you can. I got you, baby,” you cooed, splaying your hands across his wide chest.

San blinked away the tears, squeezing his eyelids shut as you rolled your hips against him, admiring the way his veins corded on his neck and his jaw set. Those were signs he was close without saying anything. He began to shake his head, jolting his body poorly.

He was at his limit, and it reminded you how you felt earlier.

Your cunt suctioned along his soaked flesh, securing him within your warmth and drawing out another raw sound from his throat. He wanted you off but you weren’t done with him quite yet.

“You’re gonna cum one more time for me, okay?”

He squirmed beneath you, overstimulated beyond reason, and his cock jumped at every brush of your walls. A painful sob ripped from his throat, face flushed red as his head tossed side to side.

“I—I can’t…baby, I—”

“Yes, you can,” you reassured, brushing the damp locks from his forehead before peppering kisses along his jawline, “you’ve been so good for me. Just one more, baby.”

“Promise?” San asked faintly.

Your head lifted in time for you to feast on the cutest pout adorning his lips. It softened something in your chest, and a part of you wanted to let him go right then.

A very tiny part.

He still needed this last lesson, and you needed to cum again.

Brats learned eventually. San simply required a little extra encouragement.

taglist: @maliabobea15 • @chanscappuccino • @m00nieluvsyuyu

© written by teezslvt— do not steal or claim as your own 𓆩♡𓆪

san was absolutely starving when he got home from work. and no, it wasn’t the “babe please cook something up for me” kind of starving. he was hungry for you. this happened very often, especially when work had taken a toll on him. all he wanted to do was be around you and stay close to you as soon as he got home.

and this time, you were the only thing on his menu.

which brought you to the present. you sank perfectly into your soft mattress, and your sheets weren’t the only thing wrapped around you. there you were—passionately making out with san. he threw his shirt across the room as soon as he saw you, now surrounding you with his embrace. his muscular, defined body was fully on display, yours to admire. your hands roamed across his back, so small compared to the massive beauty of his body.

“my princess” he spoke softly, tucking away some of the hair that had gotten in your face behind your ear. "i've been waiting for this all day"

so did you. you hated when san had to work more hours. you hated being away from him for so long, to the point where all that pent-up desire came crashing down the moment he stepped through the door.

you bit on his lip, softly, but enough to let out his sweet noises that were dear to your ears.

"why do you have to work for such a long time, hmm..? always so far from me" you pulled away from his face enough for you to make eye contact with him.

"you know i have no control over that baby" he said as he placed soft kisses around your mouth.

"but now that i'm here with you, i can make it up for you"

oh you loved the sound of that. you knew exactly where this was headed. your body clearly knew as well—you were already wet from the aggressive make-out session. and it almost seemed as if he kept turning the faucet more and more with his words.

"is that so?" you smirked, moving your body a bit away from his, enough for you to start sliding off the sweats you had on.

he stared intently at you. you could have sworn he wasn't even blinking.

"fuck, you're beautiful baby" you felt his hands land on yours, helping you pull down your sweats even faster. he swiftly brought them back up and took your shirt off as well. "mm.. i could stare at you for hours"

san wasted no time in taking off the rest of his clothes. not even a minute later, he was only left with his boxers on. the outline of his hardened cock begging to break free from its confinement made your mouth water.

"san.." you looked into his eyes with absolute need. "i wanna feel you. your touch. i wanna feel you deep inside of me" your hand slid up his body once more, moving from his chest to his pecs. "i thought about it all day, and now you're here"

"i know, i know my love" he said, "patience. i still need to grab a condom real quick"

you made a funny frown face at him, "and what if i want your cum deep inside me too?"

he was already moving towards the drawer on the side of your bed when his eyes widened. he immediately turned around facing you, "don't fucking say things like that. do you want me to go insane !?"

"yeah. i do."

his eyebrows furrowed, and his eyes shot back at the drawer—now relentlessly looking for a condom.

"um.. babe? are you sure we still have any? it feels like i've searched everywhere inside of this thing and i can't find any."

you lifted yourself up a bit, now sitting up and looking at him with a confused expression on your face. "what? there's no way we fuck that much. i could've sworn we just bought a pack"

yeah.. sure.. the hearts on almost every day of the month showing on your flo app says otherwise.

he turned around and pouted at you, "i don't think there is any in here baby. i think we ran out"

"well.. i-"

"you didn't actually think that was going to stop me from making you feel good, right?"

oh oh oh and there he goes. he's back to his favorite spot— being on top of you.

he traced swirls all around your body with his fingertips, leading his hands in between your legs. he spread them open, making room for him to place himself in. the next thing you knew, his clothed erection was sitting directly on your neglected clit. you felt your entire body get hotter by the second, your pussy throbbing around nothing.

"use me baby. grind yourself on me, make yourself feel good. "

his words sent a jolt straight through your body, making your hips buck against him instinctively. the sudden friction you felt against your pussy was delicious torture, and you couldn't help but moan out his name as he pressed his hard clothed length against you.

"there we go, look at you. you're already so wet" san growled, his voice dropping down to that specific tone that could drive you insane. "it won't be too long until i feel you soaking right through these boxers"

he began to move his hips in slow, deliberate circles, grinding against you with just enough pressure to drive you wild without giving you the satisfaction you craved. his cock dragged along your clit with precise movements, sending sparks of pleasure through your body.

"shit," he breathed against your neck, sending shivers down your spine. "i could just slide into you right now baby.. hmm? no condom, no nothing." he said, grinding right on your sweet spot. "just raw, deep inside that pretty pussy of yours."

your eyes widened in shock, arousal coursing through you. you wanted to say something back, but you couldn't even open your mouth without a needy moan coming out. you suddenly arched your back as you felt him pick up his pace slightly.

"i know baby, sucks really," he chuckled, moving down to nip at your earlobe. "but we can't. not without protection. doesn't mean i can't imagine it though." he bit down even harder. "imagining filling you up with my cum until it's dripping out of you..."

"san- more.. please.." you pulled him closer, trying to create a stronger friction between the two of you. the feeling of his hard-on rubbing against your throbbing wet cunt made your eyes shut and roll back. "y-you feel so fucking good right now. i just can't stop thinking about how amazing you'd feel inside of me"

his hip stuttered in the middle of himself grinding when he heard you. if there was one thing about san, it would be how much he loved it when you talked dirty to him. well, if he were to be honest, he'd say that he has a love-hate relationship with it. he loves when you moan out filthy words as he pounds into you, but he hates how quickly they drive him off the edge and make him cum.

"babe if you keep saying- things like t-that.. " his thrusts became quicker, and the friction became hotter in between your legs. "fuck. i could cum in my fucking boxers"

his body pulled itself even closer to you, and of course, you welcomed him straight in. your arms scattered all over his back once more, pulling him in as much as you could. you wanted that release. you were dying for it. even if he couldn't give himself to you entirely at the moment, you wanted everything, anything from him.

your hips bucked upwards, grinding your clothed clit onto his erection. a burning pleasurable sensation started developing in your lower abdomen, indicating that your climax was close.

"san- baby- i want you to fill me up so badly" you begged as your want for pleasure built a peak that you could no longer bear. "fuck condoms. i want to feel your cum dripping out of me for days" you were so close to slipping his boxers off when—

his eyes widened in shock at your words, his hips suddenly stilling. "holy shit-" he groaned, his body tensing above you.

you felt a sudden warmth spreading through the fabric of his boxers as he collapsed against you, burying his face in the side of your neck. "f-fuck. i'm sorry, i- i didn't mean to- not yet. shit," he panted, his body trembling slightly from the aftermath of his climax.

you could feel the wetness soaking through his boxers onto your panties as his cock twitched against you.

but despite having just cum, he didn't pull away. instead, he began grinding against you again, his movements slower but more deliberate this time. his sensitive sticky tip rubbed against your clit, each movement making him hiss with a painful yet pleasurable feeling.

"oh san, you don't have-" you started, but he cut you off with a kiss.

"no baby, i'm not stopping until you cum too."

his determination sent another wave of arousal through your body. the thought of him pushing through his very own sensitivity just for your pleasure was intoxicating. you wrapped your legs around his waist, making his movements focus more on your clit.

"o-oh! right there," you gasped as he hit just the right spot. "don't stop, please don't stop."

his movements grew more desperate as he chased your orgasm, the damp fabric of his boxers slid more smoothly against your panties with every grind. the combination of his dirty words from earlier, the sight of him losing control, and the persistent stimulation of your oversensitive clit finally pushed you over the edge.

"mmm there she is," san brought himself up to look at you one more time before you came, and boy did you look heavenly to his eyes. it was written all over your face; you were so close to your climax.

your back arched off the bed as waves of pleasure crashed over you, your panties growing soaked with your own arousal. san continued to grind against you through your orgasm, prolonging the sensation until you were a trembling mess beneath him.

san hovered over your limp body and moved to your side, breathing heavily as he tried to catch his breath.

It’s too much. The seconds stretching into minutes have now stretched into an interminable period of time. For all you know, no one actually knows you’re here, and you’ll get in trouble.

“Screw this.”

You get up decisively, already reaching for the handle when the door bursts open. You stop dead in your tracks, mere inches from his chest.

The air sits heavy, still, letting reality sink in as your eyes rake over him.

The black cargos catch your attention first as you keep your head down, afraid to look up, but your eyes continue without permission. His black t-shirt falls a little loosely, still tight enough to leave little to the imagination.

Your throat is dry as you continue your journey up, ignoring the way the fabric clinging to his chest moves with every breath. The first thing you see in his face is his tanned skin - you always had a soft spot for it. The second - and the one that has your knees threatening to cave in - is the way his big brown eyes watch you softly, giving you all the time you need. He looks at you the same way he has the past two times that you’ve seen him, and that’s when who he is clicks.

“S-sorry! I didn’t mean to - god I almost ran into you I was in such a hurry… I mean - no! Not in a hurry, you know, just, I didn’t wanna intrude, cause no one knows I’m here. Well not no one, someone took me here.”

“Have dinner with me.”

He speaks softly but you can’t hear it, lost in your spiral.

“Not that I came here behind anyone’s back,” you continue, “I promise! I have this bracelet, see!” You say as you hold up your wrist. “I swear I didn’t steal it, they gave it to me with my ticket, I don’t even know wh-”

“Y/n, have dinner with me.”

His voice comes out a little more firm this time, finally stopping your incessant explanation. Your breath stops altogether with any movement in your body as you realise he said your name.

He remembered your name.

“I’m sorry. W-what?”

“Come have dinner with me tonight, please.”

It’s not your fault that all you can do is blink at him. How are you supposed to understand these words when they come out of his mouth?

“Y/n?”

“Yes?”

The corners of his lips lifts. “So you’ll come with me?”

“Come where?”

“To dinner.” He chuckles, obviously amused by your fumbling.

“Oh! Umm…” You can feel the blush creeping up your neck and angle your head down as you take a step back so the lights don’t give you away too much. “You’ve got schedules, you don’t need to go out of your way for me, really!”

“I was gonna go there anyway, but I’d rather have your company than eat alone.”

You chew on your lower lip, trying to find an excuse, unsure why.

“I don’t think I should. It’s not appropriate, sorry. I-I could get you in trouble.”

He shakes his head, his hand finally leaving the door to grab his coat. “You won't, I promise. We kind of make it our hobby to know the good, quiet places. Comes with the job.” He chuckles.

“So… you’re seriously asking me out to dinner?”

He nods his head, staring into your eyes and you feel the heat on your cheeks come back with a vengeance. God, if he could just stop looking at you with his big brown shiny boba eyes, then maybe…

“O-okay. Yeah, sure.” The words come out before you can think it through. “I’d love to.”

His smile grows even bigger at your words and it takes everything in him to not jump with excitement. His fingers hover over the keyboard of his phone before he locks it and puts it in his pocket.

“I’ve got one of the managers waiting behind the stadium if you’re ready to go.”

You nod hesitantly. You’re really doing this…

He reopens the door, waiting for you to come out in front of him, and you find yourself face to face with San, Yeosang, Mingi, Jongho, and a manager, chatting loudly with each other despite the exhaustion on their faces.

You freeze in your place, obviously. Honestly, what else can you do?

“Oh hey, hyung, you disappeared so quickly I didn’t have time to check with you.” San starts. “Is 8 still okay for tomorrow? Mingi wanted to join in.”

“Yeah if that’s not too much trouble.” The tall blonde asks.

“No, ‘course. I’ll just meet you in the gym.”

San smiles as he takes a swig of his water. “Great! Nice to see you again y/n.”

“Have a good night!” You hear them all say one after the other as they filter into the green room, your eyes glued to where you last saw them as the door closes.

“Did you drug me?”

Seonghwa looks at you with pure shock and concern. “God no! Why would you say that?”

“So… that - that actually happened?”

He laughs, relief flooding through him.

“Come on, let’s not make my manager wait too long.”

You can’t help but look back a couple of times, watching the door grow smaller with every step. Only when you turn the corner do you look up at the man next to you, a barely disguised smile on his face as he feels your eyes burning into him.

The cold wind hits you as soon as he opens the door, but to your relief, the car is right there waiting, as promised.

Ever the gentleman, he opens the door for you. You’re still hesitant, but the cold and the promise of good food decide for you as you step into the warm leather air of the car. You shuffle over to the other side to let him in, and when the door closes, the atmosphere feels almost suffocating.

Seonghwa gives some instructions to his manager in Korean, and the car takes off immediately. The silence stretches the whole ride. You don’t even know what to say, and he doesn’t push you. Even his manager doesn’t look at you through the mirror the whole ride. You would know - your eyes have been laser focused on the road so you don’t have to think about the situation you’re in.

The car stops in front of a small establishment, tucked away in a dimly lit street. Alarm bells go off in your brain at first, until you lean forward and see the dainty front, noticing a small handful of people inside.

Your door opens and you almost fall forward from having leant on it - you hadn’t noticed Seonghwa getting out on the other side.

Your cheeks burn bright once more as the pile of embarrassing moments continues to grow, but still step out with a modem of grace and poise, thanking the manager shyly. He offers you a warm smile before you close the door and he drives away, back to the bustling street.

When you turn back around, Seonghwa is holding the door open once again.

“After you.”

His voice is so sweet and comforting… Just two words and your legs are already moving inside.

“Hi, I have a reservation under Mr Park?”

“Yes of course, right this way Sir.”

The waiter takes the two of you to a table a little out of the way in the corner of the restaurant, with a low hanging ceiling light bathing the both of you and the tableware with gold.

The vibe of the restaurant is cosy, like a family place, the traditional sounding music playing softly through the speakers. Even the chairs look old - not in a deplorable way, more rustic, like they’ve got countless stories to tell.

He pulls it out for you, continuing to be the most well mannered man you’ve ever met.

He sits down in front of you and you clear your voice, trying to sound more confident than you are. “You made a reservation?”

“Of course!”

“But… how did you know I’d say yes?”

He gives you an almost shy lopsided smile. “Call me optimistic.”

Then it clicks. “Ah I get it! You said you were coming here anyway, whether or not I said yes.”

He smiles sheepishly. "Actually… I might have lied. I can’t really imagine myself having dinner here with just my manager…”

“Oh…” Curiosity peeks its nose. “What would you have actually done if I’d said no? With your night, I mean.”

He opens the menu, humming as he takes a moment to think. “Probably just gone back to my room and ordered room service, maybe taken a bath. Some of the members will hang out for a bit every now and then, but usually we’re just too tired to do much.”

You frown. “You really don’t have to do this, you know? I mean, the restaurant is super cute and the food looks great - don’t even get me started on the company.” You chuckle awkwardly, making him smile, before yours drops again. “But the last thing I want is to make you even more exhausted than you already are…”

He smirks as he leans forward and you hold your breath. “I’ve got plenty of energy, don’t you worry about that. Besides,” he sighs as he leans back, “I’d very much rather be here with you than alone in my hotel room.”

You blink at him, too stunned to speak, when the waiter comes to take your order.

“I’ll have the house special with the 8” pepperoni pizza on the side, please.” He turns to you. “Y/n?”

His voice saying your name snaps you out of it. “Umm…” You hadn’t even thought to check the menu this whole time, so you open it to the salad page and get the cheapest one.

“The…” You try to pronounce it but the name sounds like you’re going to butcher it, so you opt for showing it to the man instead. “This one.”

“Are you sure?”

You turn to Seonghwa, blushing again. “I didn’t bring a lot of money with me today, I was trying not to overspend on merch again…”

“And? I’m paying. Get what you want.”

“No really, it’s f-”

“Get the salad if that’s what you want, not because of money.”

He holds your gaze for what feels like an eternity and you cave, once more, turning to the waiter as you hand him back the menu. “I’ll have the house special too, then.” You turn to Seonghwa. “If that’s really okay?”

He nods calmly.

The man takes both of your menus back and you’re left alone with Seonghwa, chewing on your lip again.

“You really didn’t have to, you know? It’s so nice but… I don’t want you to think I’m taking advantage or anything…”

He smiles at you, tilting his head a little with a fondness that makes your heart flutter with arrhythmia. “You were given backstage passes by me, slightly coerced into dinner with me and taken to a restaurant of my choice. If anyone was being taken advantage of in this situation, it wouldn’t be me y/n.”

“Still, I’m just a f-” You lower your voice a little, conscious of your environment. “A fan, you don’t need to do all this. This is just dinner, and I agreed to come, you didn’t make me.”

He shrugs, a slight blush colouring his cheeks. “Even so, I’m not gonna let you pay anything on a date.”

You choke on your water. Did he just…

“Is that… Are we… Huh?”

His blush darkens to a gorgeous crimson and you do your best to ignore the flutters in your stomach at his display of vulnerability. “No! I didn’t mean it like that. It’s like, a friendly date. I wouldn’t assume… I just felt like you were nice and I wanted to talk to you more and get to know you.”

You can’t hide the slight disappointment in your face as you place your glass back down. “Oh. Yeah, sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed…”

His eyes study you as you avert your gaze. Let’s not kid anyone, of course the idea of this being a date is terrifying given who you both are. But part of you wishes he hadn’t denied it so vehemently.

“Anyways.” You clear your throat in an attempt to move past the awkwardness. “What did you wanna know?”

And so, he starts asking you, well, everything.

Your meals arrive and get devoured whilst you tell him everything there is to know about you - your childhood, your life, family, work, even how long you’ve been a fan - he just couldn’t help himself.

At first, you’re hesitant, but somewhere along the way, the questions stop feeling like questions at all. That is, until he asks you whether he’s your bias. It’s not like your bias is much higher on your list than Seonghwa is. But… he does hold a special place in your heart.

“Come on, I promise I won’t judge you. I’m just curious. Although I’ll warn you now, if you say another member’s name, I can’t promise I won’t be jealous.”

You smile at his honesty and take a breath to give yourself courage. “Keep in mind that you’re, like, so close to being my bias,” you start, and he clutches his chest dramatically at the revelation that he isn’t quite there, “but… my bias is Jongho.”

He waits a second before dropping his head. “Aish… I can’t even be mad at you for that…”

You laugh honestly, a sound that’s like music to his ears.

“I feel like I need to tell you why though.”

He nods his head in encouragement, listening to you with a devastating intensity like he has all night. You found it hard to eat when he kept staring at you like that.

“The first song I heard that made me get into you guys was actually not an ATEEZ song. It was Jongho’s cover of ‘So You’ when he went on Immortal Songs. I just, I don’t know…” You sigh. “It stuck with me. And then a few days later, I decided to check more of him out, and that’s when I found out about ATEEZ, and I’ve been hooked since.” You shrug.

“Now I really can’t blame you for me not being your bias… You know, a few of us cried when we first heard it…”

You lean forward in surprise. “Me too! How does he do that?!”

“I have no idea!” He says, leaning towards you too, admiring the way the light reflects into tiny stars in your eyes. “Before debut he was already doing that, but this one… it’s like he’s casting a spell or something! It’s a good thing he’s the maknae,” he adds, “he’s powerful enough as it is.”

You laugh again. “God, can you imagine?”

His laugh joins yours until the sounds die down, and you’re left staring at each other, a mere few inches separating you. You’re the first one to move back.

“You’ve asked me a lot of questions so it’s my turn.”

He hesitates a moment but motions for you to proceed.

“Why do you remember me, specifically? Like, you remembered me the second day I had send off, and then the third day you noticed I got my hair cut. I didn’t even do anything big either…”

“Well, you dyed it a little darker, it made your eyes a lot brighter.”

You bite your lip to muffle a smile. “R-right. But, come on. Yeah you’re an idol, and maybe you notice these things more. But at the same time, even my coworkers didn’t see the change…”

He opens his mouth to say something but you cut him off, feeling unusually bold. “And you asked for my name. Like, my full name. Which was a little weird to say with everyone listening in I have to say.”

He scratches his head. “Yeah… I didn’t exactly think that one through. In my defence, I really… I was a little sad that I wasn’t gonna see you again, so I really wanted to arrange to meet you after tonight’s show.”

Is your heart tripping and stumbling over itself? Absolutely. That man should not be so smooth.

“Why, though? What did I do that made you so curious?”

He takes a moment to think about what to say.

In fairness, as excited as he’d been at the prospect of meeting you properly, he hadn’t really thought about what you’d want to know, only what he did. But his desire to meet you wasn’t rooted on baseless reasons.

“You have this energy. You were so calm when I first came to sign your autograph. Then I noticed you wearing my skin outfit, and honestly, you’d done such a great job, you really looked great. Then the night after that, I didn’t expect to see you again, but there you were, wearing one of Yeosang’s ‘Legacy’ outfits, and honestly, it looked so cool. I love the way you made our looks fit you, so you stayed on my mind. And then last week, you weren’t wearing any particular outfit, but your face… I don’t know how to explain it, but it grabbed my attention as soon as I got into the room. Plus, like I said, your energy was so calming, so soft, but full of energy, and I… I really liked it.”

You sit in silence, processing each new piece of information. It feels like he’s slowly peeling layers of himself and handing them to you. There’s a vulnerability in his honesty, and you didn’t expect it. You weren’t expecting anything, honestly, but this would have most definitely not been anywhere near your list.

The only thing you can wonder now, is whether he was being honest when he said this was a friendly date. After all, there is absolutely no way that Park Seonghwa, the beautiful, kind, funny idol that he is, would actually have taken you on a real date. But that same beautiful, kind, funny idol just described you like he already knew you, like he’d been thinking about you.

“How did San know my name?”

You probably know the answer, to be honest, but you need to hear him say it.

“I might have spoken about you a couple times. Might have also told them about my plan to take you to dinner…”

His voice trails quieter as the words come out.

Yup, that’s exactly what you thought he would say. The problem is that you wished he hadn’t said that. How are you supposed to react? What are you expected to say?

“I should let you go, it’s late.” You say as you push your chair back, a slight panic washing over you. “I’m sure you’re exhausted after the show.”

Before you can grab your purse off the table, his hand comes to rest on yours. His warmth makes you stop in your tracks, your mind blanking.

“I didn’t mean to scare you away, I’m sorry. Please don’t go?”

Your lips move, but the air is stuck in your throat, preventing the words from coming out. Ever the perceptive man, he notices your internal panic, instantly removing his hand from yours. You feel the loss of his warmth immediately, but your lungs start regaining function.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, b-but…”

“I took it too far, I know. I’m so sorry y/n, I was out of line.”

“No!” You answer faster than you should have, and his surprise is evident. “No, you weren’t. You’ve been so nice all evening, it’s just that, well…”

“You don’t feel the same way, it’s fine.”

The disappointment on his face makes your heart break in a million tiny pieces, and you’re forced to sit back down before your knees give out.

“Actually, I was gonna say that it’s a lot of pressure.” You smile at him, warmly, and his eyes regain a small sparkle. “Think about it: I came to this amazing concert, was told to go backstage to meet my favourite artists - which is so incredibly huge! And then one of these artists invites me to dinner and admits he’s been thinking about me. It sounds so delusional I can’t even believe these words are coming out of my mouth…”

He grabs your hand again and a current flows through your entire body at his touch.

“Did you have fun at least?”

You nod. “Of course. You’re great company.” And not bad to look at either.

A shade of red creeps up his cheeks, making you melt internally as you try to keep your composure. “I did too. You’re so interesting to listen to. And I’m sorry if I ever stared at you, it’s just that you’re hard not to look at…”

His words shoot heat through your stomach and your breath hitches. You wish you could look away from his face but his gaze has you locked in.

You suddenly see all the details you’ve been trying to ignore. The way his plush pink lips are slightly parted, his breath coming through in slightly shorter breaths than before. The dark brown in his eyes has turned almost black as he scans your own face, analysing you in much the same way. His cheeks are still slightly pinker than before, but it doesn’t look like shyness anymore, and you try not to think about the other reason his face could be flushed.

His fingers twitch around your hand, squeezing a little tighter when the waiter comes back.

“Apologies guys, but we’re about to close. Is there anything else I could get for you?”

The snap back to reality is like a cold shower. You instinctively go to take your hand back, but his hold on you is firm, and your composure threatens to break.

“No, thank you. We’ll pay now, please.”

He skilfully takes his card out, tapping it on the machine as he continues to hold your hand, before the waiter wishes you a good night.

He types a few words on his phone before looking at you with a smile that turns you into a puddle on your seat.

“You don’t have to say yes.” He starts, brows drawn together with hope. “But would, umm… Would you like to come back to my hotel? There’s no expectations, of course,” he continues quickly when he sees the look on your face, “I’d just really like it if we could spend a little more time together, getting to know more of you.” His smile is adorably crooked. “You don’t have to s-”

“Yes. I’d love to.”

Oh you’re in so much trouble now, and there’s no way out. You’re stuck, and it’s all his fault - though you could’ve protested a bit more. But how can you, when he looks at you like that, talks so softly, and holds your hand so gently yet, dare you say… possessively?

The way his smile lights up his entire face makes your heart race. Every single thing he does has your body and mind losing control.

“I’ve texted my manager again, he should be here any minute.”

He opens the door to the street and closes it immediately, the downpour suddenly obvious. You were so entranced in your bubble that you hadn’t heard it hitting the windows - nor had you realised the music was off or that you were the last two in the restaurant, come to think of it.

His manager arrives soon, almost invisible through the thick sheet of rain.

Seonghwa runs to the door to open it before coming back to you and putting his jacket over your head.

“Wait, no you’re getting drenched!” You shout over the rain, but he shakes his already dripping head.

“I’m fine, get in the car.”

You oblige, running to the dry refuge of the car, Seonghwa in tow. You turn to him and wince at the sight, desperately ignoring the way his t-shirt clings to him and how the droplets on this skin look like works of art.

“Seonghwa, that was so stupid. You’re in the middle of a tour!”

He smirks shyly, loving your concern for him. “The hotel is only five minutes away, I’ll dry off there.”

His gaze suddenly drops to your hand. You’re leaning towards him and you've been using it to brace yourself on the middle seat. Slowly, he moves his own, entangling his fingers with yours.

You immediately straighten up, looking forward at the road, but not daring to move your hand. In his seat, he gazes out of the window with a barely contained smile, rubbing his face to try and hide it.

Your heart is beating out of your chest, an uncontrollable response to his touch.

This feels so incredibly surreal. You try to contain your smile, biting your lip to hold it in, but how can you when his thumb rubs small circles on the back of your hand as you both look away from each other?

After only a few minutes, the car stops in front of his hotel. You take a second to let it sink in before undoing your seatbelt, and he’s already outside, holding his jacket up for you, getting soaked all over again. You give the manager a polite goodbye again, a little crimson coating the apples of your cheeks, knowing what this looks like to him. He doesn’t say anything though, nor does he look at you in any way - he just smiles at you warmly like earlier this evening.

Once out of the car, you both make a run for the revolving doors. You get to the elevators, and when the doors close, he looks at you and bursts out laughing.

“My jacket didn’t really do much, did it?”

You look down at your clothes. The wind made the rain go past his jacket, and your jeans are sticking to your legs, dripping on the floor. Still, you look up at him softly.

“My face is dry. It didn’t do nothing.”

He moves a stray piece of hair from your face with a smile.

He’s almost too close now. Not too close for comfort - you feel so at ease with him. He’s getting too close for your thoughts to stay rational. He’s getting too close for you to not notice the scent of black coffee and vanilla coming from his perfume. Too close for you to not feel the heat he radiates. Too close for you to not see the-

The elevator dings and the doors open, breaking out of your chain of thoughts - definitely for the better.

You follow him out, leaving a trail of droplets on the laminated floor. The beep of his keycard in the emptiness of the hallway unlocks something in you too, and, as he opens the door for you, you feel something change as you pass the threshold of the room.

Your breathing turns shallow as a slight bit of panic comes over you. What are you doing?

Seonghwa stands behind you with the door left ajar, concern on his face. You jump, startled by his voice.

“Should I leave this open for you?”

You know you should leave, take this opportunity to run, get out of this insane fever dream. But your body betrays you as you shake your head, swallowing through your tight throat.

“No.”

Your voice is breathy, barely above a whisper, and he can’t ignore the way warmth flows through his body with relief. He wouldn’t have stopped you, but he’s glad he didn’t have to fight the urge to.

He lets the door go, shutting automatically with a soft click.

Neither of you moves. There’s no telling what could happen if you do. You could pretend it’s all in your head, but his chest is rising and falling too fast for it to just be you.

“You should change.” You finally manage quietly, afraid to break the moment.

“So should you.”

It almost feels like a relief to hear that he’s just as out of breath as you are.

“I don’t have anything to change into.”

He takes a tentative step towards you, still far enough for your brain to function, but getting dangerously close to autopilot territory.

“I can lend you something.”

“I’m okay.”

He takes a half step further and your brain finally short circuits.

You look up at him under your lashes. He feels so imposing, like something shifted in him. There’s still softness there, but his skin is too hot for him to keep calm.

“I don’t want you to get sick.”

Each word ghosts your face with his breath. He’s too close now. The space between you is growing smaller with every second, like you’re gravitating towards each other.

“I…”

Your mind is blank, the words trailing off your tongue as he tucks your hair behind your ear, this time keeping his hand there.

Oh god…

His eyes keep switching between yours and your lips, his palm searing into your cheek in a way that makes you want him to stay there forever.

You’re frozen in place, unable to move - not that you should.

But he doesn’t want to either. He knows how risky it is for him to be doing this. But he can’t help this all consuming attraction he feels for you. Not just for your beauty, but for you, as a whole. Your laugh is still echoing in his brain, the way your voice grows higher when you get excited about things, the way your smile creates those faint crinkles in your nose…

He meant it when he said there was no expectation for anything. But he forgot every single question he still had for you the moment he felt your frantic pulse in the car. 

The only sound in the room is that of your loud breaths and the rain still hammering on the window. The room feels small, like it’s pushing you towards each other.

Somewhere between tucking your hair and now, you’ve grown so close that even a breeze would be enough to push you and kiss him.

His breath fans your lips, making them tingle with anticipation. His wet hair is still dripping down his face, forming rivulets on his tanned cheeks, but he doesn’t care. Your skin is so soft under his fingertips, he wonders just how soft your blush coloured lips would be.

“Seonghwa…” you breathe, unsure why.

His eyes move back up to yours, and the last of his restraint breaks, finally closing the gap between you.

He’s gentle, only brushing his lips over yours, like he’s asking for permission. You don’t give it to him straight away, afraid of what’s happening, but the faint taste of his lips makes you want more, and you kiss him lightly.

His hand tightens a fraction in your hair, brows drawn as he sighs with relief.

Your purse drops to the floor, allowing you to tentatively place your hands around his waist. It’s like electricity at every point of contact between you. Both of your bodies are on fire, skins prickling with desire.

His lips stay soft on yours, learning you, letting you guide him. The wet fabric clinging to his torso feels like your only anchor to reality, your fingers tightening around it. Droplets glide down your wrists as the water is squeezed out, his hair bleeds down onto your cheeks, his hands smearing the rain on your neck. Even your own clothes become wetter as the space between you disappears fully.

One of his hands glides down your arm, goosebumps erupting in its wake, before he places it on your waist, holding you close - as if you could go anywhere when his touch feels like the only thing holding you together right now.

You continue to tug on his shirt to stop yourself from falling over and he notices, moving his hand to hold your back instead, and you gasp.

Just that small reaction has his head spinning. It’s not just about what your sounds mean, it’s about how they feel like something he didn’t know he was missing.

Without thinking, your fingers travel lower, thumb hooking under the fabric of his shirt against his sizzling skin. It surprises him, his fingers tightening around you, his lips a little hungrier as he sighs.

You’re practically on the tip of your toes now, your back arched into him, like two pieces of a puzzle finding out in real time how to fit with each other.

The tip of his tongue grazes against your lip lightly, tentatively, and your body responds instantly, lips parting to allow him in.

Your taste is intoxicating, the berries from the dessert you shared lingering, mixed with something so uniquely yours, and he can’t stop his fingertips from digging into the soft skin of your waist - just so he doesn’t do anything too rash.

Getting pulled into him further and further, you unravel your other hand from the wet fabric, grazing him slowly, until your fingertips reach his face. You cup his jaw in your palm, a low rumble in his throat reverberating through it.

He pulls away, only a fraction.

Both of your chests are heaving, your lips puffy and glistening. You run your thumb over his lower lip, tracing its shape softly, whilst his eye bore into yours, watching every tiny flicker in your face.

Without a word, he grabs your waist, guiding you backwards slowly until your legs meet the mattress and you sink down on it. He stays standing, towering over you as if joining you would cross an official boundary.

Your eyes stay locked on his as you glide your hands up his waist, hiking his shirt up just a fraction, waiting for any sign of protest, but none comes. He lets you continue to reveal more of his perfectly sculpted body, your mouth getting dryer with every inch of skin you see.

When you can’t go higher, he takes over, passing the wet item over his head, laying it on the chair behind him without looking away from you once.

His skin is glowing from the rain, the soft lights of the room flickering with every inhale. Your breath catches in your throat as you admire him quietly. Your fingers twitch in your lap but you don’t dare touch him. He notices, reaching out to grab your hands and placing them on his waist.

Both of your breaths hitch at the contact.

You graze your fingertips over his skin, creating a map in your mind of every ridge and curve, making sure you can never forget him. His pulse is frantic under your touch, but he doesn’t move - he just continues to look at you, imprinting your image in his mind.

The sight of your lightly parted lips, a pink tinge colouring your skin with need, your eyes, that somehow captured him amongst hundreds of other fans, looking at him like he’s a work of art when you’re the one he couldn’t stop thinking about… Everything about you draws him in, and he can’t help cupping your face with both hands, bringing your lips back to his, your hands splaying out on his lower back to keep him close.

The kiss is more ferocious this time, his restraints breaking one by one with every little bit of you you give to him.

A tiny moan passes your lips at his touch and it travels straight to his crotch, and he thanks his stylist for putting him in oversized cargos. It doesn’t matter that he’s half naked in front of you, the fact that such a small sound has his body reacting this way feels almost embarrassing.

Your fingertips involuntarily dig a little harder into his skin and he grunts, pulling away just enough to be able to look at you, feeling your panting breaths brush his skin.

Hooking his fingers under the collar of your jacket, he pulls it down your arms slowly. When he places it at the foot of the bed, his face gets closer to the crook of your neck and your breath stutters, eyelids fluttering.

Like he was reading your mind, his lips graze your pulse and your whole body shudders. He grabs a hold of your chin gently, tilting your face away as he continues his path on your skin.

“Seonghwa…” you murmur, holding on to his wrist for stability, your other hand on his thigh without realising it.

His response is a low grumble that vibrates down to your bones. His mouth wraps around your skin, sucking and nipping at it with his teeth - not enough to hurt, but enough to leave a mark.

Heat floods your core with every fresh bruise, and you’re finding it difficult to not move, lest you touch him in a way you shouldn’t. Despite his intoxicating mouth on your neck and addictive fingers on your jaw, you don’t know where he wants to take this, and you’d be damned if you took it too far.

But this is nowhere near where he wants to leave things. He’s trying to be gentle - he really is - but there’s only so gentle he can be. There’s only so much he can hold back.

“I need you.” He confesses low into your ear, the air making you shiver. “Please, tell me I can have you.”

Without hesitation, you nod your head vigorously. “Y-yes. Please.” You swallow thickly.

Something ignites inside of him at those words - like a spark or maybe even closer to a fire. His head is spinning at the mere thought of having you, burying himself inside you, making you feel so good you’ll never want to leave.

It’s his turn to hook his fingers under the hem of your shirt, passing it over your head, and the air gets stuck in his lungs. He didn’t expect to be so mesmerised by your body - or at least not more than he already was all evening. But now, seeing the way your chest moves with every inhale, how soft your skin looks under the low lights, how many goosebumps pepper your skin from the cool air touching you, he doesn’t know if he’d rather look at you or touch you.

Your eyes - the ones that captured him before he knew who you were - look at him with so much lust and anticipation that he knows he needs to touch you. He needs to feel your pulse. He’s only just kissed you, yet he’s already addicted to how your body reacts so effortlessly to him.

“Lay down.”

You oblige without objection, his eyes following your every move, before slowly climbing on top of you. Seeing him there, his necklace dangling in between you, swaying gently despite how still you both are…

It’s hard to describe what it’s like. Never in a million years would you have thought you’d one day find yourself in this position, with Seonghwa shirtless above you. Yet, it feels so natural. You’re giddy, of course, not just because of who he is, but because of the anticipation. And despite that, you’re calm. You know you can trust him. You know you’re safe.

Your hands make their way up his chest to wrap around his neck and pull him to you. There’s no point in hesitating anymore - you’ve both admitted you want this. And god do you want, no, need him.

This time, you’re the one kissing him hungrily. You don’t have it in you to hold back, and he can feel it, his hands roaming freely over your body. His mouth follows, kissing the curve of your shoulder, the dip between your breasts, your breathy moans only fueling his desire for you.

His index hooks under the waistband of your jeans and you lift your hips in encouragement. Within seconds, he’s rid you of them, still making sure to place them neatly on top of your jacket.

When he looks back, a fresh surge of blood rushes through him. Your grey panties are completely soaked, creating a dark grey patch where you need him most. He notices the little silver star gem on the hem and smiles to himself - it’s like you knew.

He pulls your thighs lower on the bed. The closer he gets to your throbbing core, the more he can smell you, and his mouth is already watering at the thought.

“Can I?” He asks, his voice broken with need.

You bite your lip. His constant checking in does something to you you can’t explain. “Yes. You don’t need to ask. I trust you.”

He scoffs, his tongue burying itself in his cheek at just how incredible you are.

“Say Red if it ever gets uncomfortable.”

“It won’t.”

“Promise you’ll say it.”

You nod. “Promise.”

His smile is crooked again, but this time it’s so much darker, the anticipation of what’s to come consuming him.

There’s a moment where the air stands still as he hovers over your centre, the implication of what’s happening sinking in, both of your breaths held. Then, almost hesitantly, he presses his thumb on the dark grey patch, spreading your wetness up to your clit, and you whimper. You didn’t realise how on edge you’d been this whole time, until he touched you, and it’s the most delectable release you could have imagined.

Your reaction was exactly what he needed. His thumb is circling your bundle of nerves now, delighting in seeing the colour of your underwear grow darker with every pass. Every whimper that comes out of you fuels him more. He’s strained in his cargos now, ready to burst at any second, and he hasn’t even tasted you yet.

Too excited, he moves your underwear to the side, revealing your puffy, glistening lips.

“Fuck, 애기…”

His hot breath on your wet cunt makes you bite your lip, humming with pleasure.

His fingers gather some of your slick before he brings it to his mouth, just to taste, but god, he’ll be damned if he doesn’t drink you from the source.

His tongue takes you by surprise when he flattens it against you, licking a stripe all the way to your clit, and your hips buck into him already, making him chuckle. He’s not a sadist by any means, but he loves the idea of you writhing under him whilst his tongue fucks you until there’s nothing left.

Your hand weaves itself in his hair as he continues, pulling on the damp strands whilst pushing his head down. He may not be a sadist, but he might be a little bit of a masochist given how his cock jumps in his pants the moment the tugging stings.

Your head is growing fuzzy the more he laps you up. It’s like he’s kissing you passionately and sucking you dry at the same time.

“Mmh… God…”

“What do you need, beautiful?”

You lift your head to look at him - a huge mistake given how sexy he looks when he’s fucked out drunk on you.

“Fuck, more.”

He teases your hole with his finger. “Like this?”

You nod your head frantically as you bite your lip. “Mmh hmm.”

His eyes stay locked onto your face as he gathers more slick before pushing one finger into you, delighting in the way your eyebrows draw close and your eyes roll back.

The squelching sounds of your arousal mixed with the rhythm of his fingers fills the room. Your cheeks burn a little, embarrassed by how turned on he makes you, but the thought doesn’t linger when he hits that spot. Stars fill your vision, the room fading away until all you see is his outline between your legs.

He can feel your body tense, hungry for your release. He doesn’t need to say anything, he just continues curling and scissoring his fingers whilst his lips lock around your clit, sucking on it perfectly.

The tension snaps inside of you in no time, his name falling from your lips over and over again. His tongue laps up your juices incessantly.

When he feels your spasms stop, he slowly pulls his fingers out and licks them clean, before climbing back over you and kissing your neck with his wet lips.

“You did so good 애기.”

The only response you have in you is a content hum.

His lips continue decorating your neck and chest with soft kisses.

“Do you want to stop?”

You shake your head instantly, making him smirk.

“What do you wanna do, beautiful?”

You grab his face, bringing him up to you. The taste of yourself on his sweet lips sends a fresh wave of arousal between your legs and your hips roll without a thought.

“I want you. Need you.” You bite your lip. “Please?”

A low rumble rises from his throat at your tiny broken pleas.

He’s done. Done waiting, done holding back, done pretending he’s not been dreaming of you for days and exactly how he’d fuck you to make you cry out his name and beg for him to never stop.

He stands up, removing his cargos whilst his dark hooded eyes stay locked on yours, his tongue flicking out to lick his bottom lip automatically.

You hold your breath when his fingers hook under the hem of his boxers, the sight making your mouth water. If his length wasn’t enough to make you see stars, his girth and pulsing veins are sure to take you there. You swallow thickly at the thought and a spark of pride flows through him.

He bends down, sliding your own soaked panties down, kissing his way up to your breasts that he gently removes from the cups of your bra. He squeezes them, delighting in your small whimpers, and finally unclasps the garment, leaving you both naked for each other.

He climbs higher on you, his leaking mushroom tip brushing your sensitive folds and you gasp.

“You don’t know,” he starts, brushing the hair out of your face in soothing strokes, “how much I’ve been thinking about what it’d be like to fuck you. Feel you squeeze me, see you leaking all around my cock, screaming my name.” He lines himself up with your entrance pushing in just enough to make you understand what’s about to happen. “I promise you I’ll make it worth it.”

With those final words, he starts pushing in, slowly, but the stretch is enough to send your eyes rolling back in your head. He doesn’t bottom out yet, pulling back and thrusting back in a little more every time, until his pelvis finally meets your hips. You’re out of the breath you didn’t realise you were holding, chest heaving from the simple act of taking him in.

He can’t wait any longer. He pulls out completely, only to push back in with a force that shocks you, knocking the air out of your lungs. He repeats it, revelling in the way your tits bounce with every thrust.

He notices the way your hands fist the sheets so tightly that your knuckles have turned white, and a small snicker escapes him.

“Remember the word?”

You hear sounds but your brain can’t focus on their meaning when you feel so full already.

He thrusts back in a little harder and you moan. “What’s the safe word 애기?”

“R-red.”

His fingers squeeze your thigh, thumb rubbing your skin in approval.

“Good girl. Remember it.”

That reminder is the last thing you remember before his hips start pistoning into you, picking up speed and increasing in force gradually.

If you thought his fingers were perfect, his cock must be heaven.

Every snap is precise, hitting that perfect spot inside of you that has your orgasm building in no time. His body is so perfect too. The lines of his abs as his muscles contract look like a work of art 15th century sculptors could have only dreamed of.

You can’t stop the long, drawn out moan that keeps hiccuping when his hips smack yours.

“F-fu-uck S-seong-ghwa…”

He can’t get enough of you. The way your pussy sucks him in with every thrust is tenfold better than what he imagined, and your moans are the sweetest sound he’s ever heard. A slight sheen of sweat covers your skin and all he wants to do is lick it off. Or bite it. Every inhibition is gone now, and so without thinking, he does exactly what he wants to do.

His teeth sink into your calf and you shriek, the pain mixing with pleasure. He does it again on your neck, licking the sting away, delighting in the salty taste of your sweat on his tongue. He wants to mark you until everyone who sees you knows you belong to him, even if it was just for one night.

The feeling of him both in and on you tips you over the edge with a cry as he fucks your arrousal back into you.

He grabs your ankles, pushing them down to your chest without giving you a second to rest.

The angle gives him the perfect view of your cunt squeezing him and the white ring slowly forming around his cock and he can’t help but whimper.

“Feel so good 애기. Creaming around me, making a mess. Just how like I imagined.”

He leans down to kiss you and the new angle makes you cry out even louder.

Fuck it if anyone can hear you. Let them. They need to know how good he gives it to you.

It’s not like you could do anything about it anyway - he’s fucking you too dumb for any thought to form. You have no control over your body now, you’re at his mercy, and you couldn’t be happier.

A small tear runs past your eye when he bites your lower lip. You know he gave you a safe word, but given how gentle he was all evening, you couldn’t have foreseen just how harsh he could be. Still, there’s no way you’ll make him stop. You’ve never been fucked so good in your life.

You kiss him back with the little clarity you can muster, your whimpers echoing in his mouth, sending him into a fresh wave of desire.

“If you sound like that I won’t be able to stop.”

“Don’t. Fuck don’t st-top. Ever.”

“Yeah?” He whispers against your lips, a bead of sweat dropping onto your face. “Y’want more?”

“Mmh yes yes yes.”

His chuckle ends in a low whine as you clench around him, and an idea pops into his mind. He pulls out of you, quickly turning you around on your knees to face the mirror on the headboard, before thrusting back in - all in the space of a few seconds.

He doesn’t know why he didn’t think of it before. Seeing your fucked out face as he pounds into you could have him cumming in seconds, though he does his best to hold out. He’s nowhere near done with you.

He bends down to your ear, nibbling on it before grabbing your jaw with one hand, his other guiding your hips back.

“Look at you. How could I not think about those eyes?” You gasp at a particularly harsh blow. “Dreamiest fucking thing.”

Speaking of dreams, you might be in one, judging by the complete improbability that a man that looks like him could even begin to think of you like this. And yet, the feeling of his veins grating your walls with every thrust as his tip hits your cervix reminds you that this is happening. If not because of that, then the feeling of the cool metal of his team ring pressing into your skin does it.

Another tear falls from your eye onto his hand, making him smile.

“Look so pretty when you cry.”

He wants more. Wants to see how many tears you’ll shed for him.

He slides his hand down from your jaw to your neck, squeezing a little, testing. Your eyes glass over and he grunts. How can you be so perfect? You’re his perfect little doll right now. You’re a doll he wants to take care of every day and destroy with his cock. At least tonight he got to do a little bit of both.

“Wantcha to cum again 애기.”

He squeezes your throat a little tighter as his other hand moves around your waist to play with your nipples, your orgasm breaking like he pressed a button. This one is longer, more intense, your entire body shaking in his hands which help you stay up on weak arms.

“Argh fuck so tight.”

“H-Hwa.” Your voice comes out broken, still hiccuping from your orgasm as his cock continues to bully your insides. “Too m-mu…”

He tilts your face up in the mirror until you finally look him in the eye, his thrusts slowing down slightly.

“What’s the word?”

It’s on the tip of your tongue. You feel so sensitive, almost raw, but…

He smiles, kissing your shoulder. “Just a lil more, ‘kay?”

You nod weakly and he resumes his thrusts, tears flowing freely down your face now. You feel on fire where his hips keep hitting yours, but at the same time, that same oversensitivity is helping you feel him even more fully than before.

The sweat coating your skin is sticking your hair to your neck, his touch feeling like a burn from your joined body heat - but when you look at his face in the reflection, none of it matters.

You’ll let him do anything if he can look at you like this.

You grab onto his wrist, the one holding your neck, trying to feel closer to him, and he pulls you to his chest in response. His lips devour every inch of your skin it can touch - your face, your neck, your shoulders and upper back - but he never loosens his grip. If anything, it’s tighter, even more possessive.

His thrusts are starting to be more erratic, his high getting closer, but he knows he can take you there again - your body one touch away from combusting.

He turns your face towards him, your half lidded eyes almost crossing from the proximity and his heart skips a beat.

“Where d’you want me 애기?”

“In.” You manage, and his chest swells at the thought.

No, he doesn’t know you that well, it’s true, but the thought that you’ll be dripping with him for a while makes him tremble.

Feeling himself grow almost too close to release, he captures your lips with his as his hand squeezes tighter and the other rubs your clit frantically - and as expected, you come apart under him. The feeling of your walls fluttering around him tips him over too, ropes of white shooting out inside you. You feel yourself getting fuller with every twitch of his cock, moaning endlessly in his mouth as he whimpers in yours.

His thrusts slow down until he stills, completely spent, forehead resting against yours. You catch your reflection in your peripheral vision and turn your head to take it in.

His fingers have moved, leaving slight purple marks where he squeezed, a few imprints of his teeth creating a necklace on your skin. His tanned skin against yours, the veins in his arms glistening with sweat, his chest rising and falling in shallow breaths against your back. His lips are leaving a trail of soft kisses against your ear and your cheek until the corner of your mouth, before he looks up slightly and smiles.

“Like what you see?”

You nod, swallowing past your dry throat, and lay your head back onto his shoulder to try and catch your breath.

“Me too.” He whispers.

---------

Hongjoong

Condescending, teasing, dumbifying, talks to you like you’re stupid.

"Your job is to lie there and pretend that pretty little brain of yours isn't there."

"You think you have half a mind to give me orders? What's gotten into my sweet little girl?"

"I can feel your heartbeat through your cunt, baby, you're so alive it makes me wanna fuck you to death."

"Don't give up now, pretty, show me what else you can do with that mouth other than run it.

"You're cumming? So soon? Such a sensitive pussy, you'll be a slick wreck before I even get my dick in you."

"Pretty baby loves when Daddy fucks her to sleep, hm? I kinda miss when you use that voice to scream for me."

"Stupid cunt can't stop drooling all over the place. She can't help it, baby, huh? Can she? Fix your face and answer me, slut."

"You have such a soft body; we're gonna see how much it can withstand."

"I don't think you understand how much you've fucked up letting a man like me get his hands on you."

"You're such a good listener when you're all fucked out, pretty girl. Don't worry, drift off. I'll use you until I think you've had enough."

Seonghwa

Gentle, coaxing, intense, talks to you like if he’s too harsh, you might break.

"Six. You're going to cum for me six times. I'm gonna get you there, baby, let me take care of you."

"You're so close, honey, focus. god you're so beautiful, it drives me insane."

"I love how my fingers get you excited, how they reach places you could only dream of touching."

“Is my gorgeous girl gonna cum for me? Yes, you are; don’t be shy.”

“I don’t mean to be so deep, baby, but you’ll be okay. You can take me, you always do like the angel you are.”

“Deep breaths, yes, that’s it. Feel me everywhere. Focus on feeling good; that’s all that’s ever mattered.”

“Open that pretty mouth, honey; I wanna hear those noises you make when you’re overstimulated.”

"Don't float away from me, come on. Snap out of it. Only 2 more to go."

"Please, bunny its the only thing I want, it's the only thing I need. Let me see those eyes when you cum. Don't look away."

"I just can't help it, baby, can't you go for 7? Please? Good girls always go above and beyond."

San

Encouraging, drunk, prideful, much like he’s overtly proud of how well you handle him

"That's it, talk to me, let me know what spots I'm touching."

"Mmm, fuck babydoll, your tummy's so soft, you smell so fucking good... you're perfect."

"I know it's a lot, but you got it, look at you... deep strokes. Don't let your body run from me, stay right there."

"I'm gonna get as many orgasms out of you as I can, hold back, and I'll force them out of you."

"You're so pretty- mwah!- so cute when I hit you deep baby, you look so blissed out."

"You take my dick like a champ, sweet girl. mhm, and you make me feel so good."

"Shh, suck on my fingers, like that. You have to be quieter, or the neighbors will complain about you again. I don't know what their deal is because you sound gorgeous."

"Take what you deserve, it's all for you. It's all for you... I'm so proud of you, baby."

"I love when you moan with your pussy in my mouth. Tell me more, sweetheart, let me hear what I'm doing to you."

"Right there? Hm? Yeah, I know. I know but 'm gonna fuck my shape into this pussy. I'm sorry, I know, keep cumming that's it. I'm not done yet."

Yeosang

Quiet, demanding, straightforward, much like he knows what he wants and always gets it

"Let me fuck you on your stomach, I know you'll cum the whole time if I do."

"C'mon get a grip, you're drooling all over my pillow, we just started, sweetheart."

"Keep your eyes on me. What did I say? Don't you wanna cum? I won't make you cum if you don't look at me."

"If you keep pushing back on my stomach, I'll bend you over and make you be still. Don't test me, love."

"You're not in charge here, sweetheart, lose the attitude before I fuck it out of you."

"I could do whatever I want to you, and you'd still thank me for it, wouldn't you, angel? My grateful girl, feel me give you what you need."

"You know how to do it, don't act like you don't. Smart girls like you shouldn't need reminders. Play with yourself, I'll wait."

"Why am I not moaning? Because I'm busy talking to you, angel. Don't be rude. Take this dick and talk to your boyfriend. You can multitask."

"I know I'm fucking you slow, but it's the only way you'll feel each and every part of me in that cunt. Dragging out your orgasms makes this so fun, pretty."

"If you pass out, I'll just fuck you back awake, I promise, baby. You won't miss me too much."

Yunho

degrading, objectively, mockingly, much like he knows better than you.

"You don't get to decide anything. I do what I want, and you'll like it anyway."

"Aw, fuck baby... those marks are gonna turn such pretty colors against your skin. Yeah, you'll wear them proudly for me?"

"Stupid slut, willing to humiliate yourself for me? Fuck you're addicting."

"Every time I slap you, you clench around my dick. That's kinda fucked up, baby. If I choke you, will you cum so hard you piss yourself?"

"Oh, but you like it this deep, baby. I know you, you like having your cunt stuffed full and your head emptied."

"Oh, you're so sad, beautiful. I love when you're sad, cause I can fuck it out of you, fuck you till you're so empty and all you can think of is me."

"Needy things like you need to be roughed up every once in a while, helps readjust that bratty attitude you like to get your way with."

"c'mon princess, tell me you love me. Tell me you love me, and I might kiss you. Would the bruises feel better if I kissed you?"

"Mm, I fucking love splitting this cunt open. So wet and so pretty, so beat up. What would you do without me?"

"You're learning so fast, baby, I bet you love that you can't cum without my permission. You are bound to me through your body."

Wooyoung

teasing, playful, bully-like, much like he finds your pleasure amusing

"C'mon say it into my mouth. 'Wooyoung...' like that. Let me taste my name on your tongue while I play with you."

"Good girl, good girl, yeah, you feel full? That's so cute, you have no idea all the things I can make you feel. i wanna drive you fucking crazy."

"You like when I whine for you. Pretty boy, pretty voice, yeah? You love being fucked by someone just as pretty as you."

"You're trembling, isn't that precious. Don't be so greedy, baby, I have all day to string you out."

"I know you're trying so hard for me to not cum, but I hate playing fair. I want you to fail. If I pinch your clit, will you fall apart?"

"Don't worry, I'll cover your mouth so you don't embarrass yourself. Yeah, there you go, now just focus on me hitting that spot."

"Let me see those pretty teeth you like to bite me with. Smile when I'm dicking you down, dollface, let me know that pussy feels good."

"You sure you don't like it when I make fun of you? My dick is so wet I keep slipping out. Mhm, I think someone likes being bullied."

"I love taking you against the wall. I can invade all your personal space, make you feel so trapped."

"I love it when you cum, and it makes me even fucking harder when I know you can't run from it."

Jongho

indifferent, lofty, careless, like he’s oblivious to the way he makes you feel

"I'm barely fucking you, and you seem so out of it. Don't tell me I've broken you."

"You don't know what's good for you, doll, c'mon let me do what I want. It might even feel good."

"You might be sore in the morning, but you're willing to make that sacrifice for me, aren't you, honey?"

"Hush, don't tell me you can't. No one wants to hear that, you can and you will."

"Why're you moaning so loud, hm? What if I grind into you? Will you quiet down?"

"C'mon, let's count, maybe it'll help you focus. Ground yourself, we've got a long way to go."

"You get so loud when I slap your clit, who knew you'd be so impolite. You hardly even fight, so pliant."

"You're mine. Your body does what I tell it to. Isn't that pathetic? So easily conditioned to me."

"Don't fight it, honey, cum. Let go so I can get back to teasing you until you cry. I love when you cry, it makes me so fucking hard."

Mingi

vulgar, unashamed, attentive, much like there’s no place he would rather be

"Oh, baby... feel every inch of me, arch that back, get me deeper. just like that."

"You're so small, I wanna crush you. You're so fucking cute, you make me lightheaded."

"I'm in your stomach? Oh, I'm sorry, baby. What if I pout? Will you forgive me? I'm so sorry. What if I pound that pussy harder, hm? How bout now, still mad at me, gorgeous?

"You're so warm around my dick... you're everything. Oh my fuck."

"Slow down? hm? Make me. Stop me, baby, you know what to do. I'm too heavy? not my problem."

"I'm not gonna hurt you, I'm gonna take my time with you. imma give it to you the way you like."

"Don't tap, no running. You feel too good, baby. You hear how wet you sound?"

"Feel my hands, I got you. I'm holding you, baby; you aren't going anywhere. Ride it out for me."

"Moan my name properly, c'mon. You choke every time I fuck back into you; you're making me sad here, beautiful."

"I am being nice to you, mami. There's nobody nicer than me who can make this pussy cream all over your sheets."

You smile when he finally notices. The tips of his ears turn pink, and he flinches, shy beneath your gaze.

"What's your name?"

When Mingi finally works up the courage to ask, he laces his fingers together, eyes lifting just long enough to study your face before they dart back down again.

You answer back softly with your name, every movement calm and effortless. Plucking an olive from your martini, you slip the toothpick between your lips and pull it free with practiced ease.

“I’m Song—”

“Mingi,” you finish for him, flashing a toothy grin.

His brows lift. “Oh... do you know me?”

Your dark eyes linger on him, impossible to read. A slow smile curls at your lips. “Something like that.”

You lean forward just enough for the movement to feel intentional. He whips his head to the side, throat bobbing when he stared at the way your tits pushed together for a second too long. You arch a brow before continuing.

“But I’ll know you even better if you come home with me tonight.”

He chokes on his Sprite, sputtering as the soda sprays across the table.

The guy beside him jerks upright with a curse, eyes bulging as he stares at Mingi.

"Dude—what the fuck?"

Mingi looks seconds away from dying of embarrassment. "...I am so fucking sorry."

The guy just shakes his head, muttering under his breath as he heads for the bathroom.

"Sorry," you say lightly. "Too forward? You can say no."

Mingi's head snaps up. "Oh, God. Please take me home with you."

The words tumble out before he can stop them.

His eyes go wide. A slow, crimson blush spreads across his face as he realizes he'd been a little... too eager. "I mean—" He squeezes his eyes shut. "Fuck."

You sit in silent victory for a couple of seconds before raising your credit card.

"Check, please?" Handing it over smoothly, you add "And I'm paying for his too."

When you make your way to the taxi with Mingi trailing behind you, you're grateful there's no moon tonight. If he'd gotten a better look at your face, he would've seen the unnerving smile etched across it. There was only one thing you had in mind:

Song Mingi, I'm nailing you to the fucking bed.

𝜗ৎ

High school was a cliché down to the T.

Boys poked and prodded at you with all the contradictions of adolescence. You were either too ugly to acknowledge or someone they wanted to sleep with in secret.

And Song Mingi stood at the forefront of it all.

He never bothered to remember your name. Instead, he'd go out of his way to laugh at you in the middle of class, just to hear everyone else join in. Crumpled balls of notebook paper bounced off the back of your head. Snickers followed you through the hallways. He'd always call you a little freak.

It wasn't just Mingi. Almost every boy in school seemed to have it out for you. You never really understood why—all you knew was that it was rarely kind.

On the better days, though, Mingi would scratch the back of his head in frustration before quietly leaving a carton of juice on your desk when you were too scared to eat in the lunchroom. One time, he shoved a guy for cornering you in the hallway.

Those moments almost felt like apologies.

Awkward and gangly, just like him. But even then, it never stopped.

When you were younger, you tried to understand him. You really did. During your self-help phase, every audiobook insisted people were more than the worst things they'd ever done. That forgiveness made you the better person.

You wanted to believe that. But you were way too fucking pissed.

From there, your life became the kind of rags-to-riches story people loved to tell. You went to college but still carried that adolescent rage with you. Every man you slept with became an emotional punching bag—a place to dump every humiliation, insult, and wound high school had left behind.

By the time you graduated, you were unrecognizable.

Confident—a little shameless, even. Years later, you stopped hiding behind your hair. For you, revenge wasn't getting even. It was becoming prettier and successful enough to look down on everyone who'd ever tried to make you feel small—from an empire you'd built with your own two hands.

And then, one day, you met the right kind of man. The kind who begged for your spit and paid you for it.

It was good money. Still is.

And quite frankly—you can't wait to show Mingi what the years have done to you.

𝜗ৎ

"You know—it's funny," you say, gaze drifting up to the ceiling with a soft sigh. The tasseled paddle taps against your palm in a lazy rhythm, like a metronome while you think.

Mingi's a mess beneath you. Spit drips in wet lines down his bobbing throat, pooling in the hollow of his twitching chest. His soft pants try to escape around the gag, strangled and useless.

He'd taken to it more readily than you expected. When you waltzed into your condo earlier that evening, you gave him the rundown fast and sharp—I don't bottom, I call the shots, here's the safeword—and tossed him the harness to see if he'd flinch.

He didn't. Just ran his thumb over the leather and asked if you had something in his size.

The harness you cinched around him earlier does exactly what it's meant to—squeezes his chest together, keeps him taut and presented. His eyes have rolled back, tears gathering at the edges of his long lashes. Strands of soft platinum blond hair cling to the sweat on his cheek, plastered there like silk against glass.

You press the button. The cock ring underneath his underwear kicks up a notch and Mingi lurches forward, hips jerking, only to be snapped back by the ropes. The restraints bite into his skin and he groans, the sound vibrating against the ball gag.

You smile.

It's enough to cut through the haze—Mingi forces his eyes open, struggling to focus on your face. You lean forward, hands braced on your knees, dropping to his eye level.

"You used to call me a little freak," you say, almost conversational. "All the time in high school."

The words hit him like cold water. It's frighteningly sobering. Mingi jolts, genuine surprise cutting through the pleasure-drunk fog.

"But look what we have here?" You tilt your head, letting the paddle trace a slow line down his sternum. "Song Mingi, the biggest jackass of my entire high school career... turns out to be the dirtiest fucking freak of them all."

His eyes roll back: hips thrusting forward on pure instinct, rutting into empty air, back arching in a sharp curve as another groan tears from his throat.

Your eyes widen, jaw dropping—and then you're laughing, bright and delighted.

"Ha! Did you just—" You lean closer, delighted. "Did you just have a dry orgasm?"

It's cute. Everything about him is so unbearably cute.

Then, all at once, a sick little epiphany settles over you.

Maybe this is what all those overpriced self-help journals had been trying to tell you all along.

Finding someone to be so pathetic can feel like forgiveness.

And now, he looks so pathetic, you adore the way he looks when he's ashamed.

You reach forward, fingers finding the buckle of the ball gag. It comes loose with a soft click, and you pull it free—a thin line of saliva trails after it, glistening in the light before you toss it aside. It hits the floor with a wet thud somewhere behind you.

You're still straddling him, knees bracketing his hips. You brace your hands on his chest, feeling the rise and fall beneath your palms, the heat of his skin through the harness.

"So," you say, quiet now. The edge in your voice has softened to something almost gentle. "Tell me, Mingi. You want to stop?"

You've had your fun. If he safeworded right now, walked out— you'd let him. No strings.

He stares up at you, eyes wide and glassy, tears finally spilling over to track down his temples. His breath hitches.

"N-no." His voice is wrecked, raw from the gag. "Please. Let me stay."

The smile that curves your mouth is genuine this time. "What a good boy."

You lean down, pressing your lips to the sharp line of his jaw, then higher—his cheek, the corner of his eye. You pepper kisses across his eyelids, tasting salt.

"Still wanna stay and fuck the girl you bullied?"

He sniffles, and the sound is almost laughable coming from someone his size—big, broad-shouldered, built like he could break you in half. But he looks so angelic and soft right now.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. "I liked you."

You go dreadfully still. "The fuck do you mean you liked me?"

Mingi swallows hard, trying to compose himself. He doesn't look at the way your thighs are pressed against his hips, the damp patch on his abdomen where you've been grinding against him.

"I didn't know how to..." He exhales shakily. "I didn't know how to deal with it. Liked—liking when people treated me a certain way."

He pauses, gathering the words like they're heavy stones.

"You probably don't remember this. But the first time we actually met wasn't homeroom."

"Sophomore homeroom, first day." you say automatically.

He shakes his head slowly. "No. Last day of freshman year. You were—some guys were messing with you in the hall. You ran into me after, literally ran into me, and you were furious. Called me a piece of shit." He hesitates, throat working. "Spit on me, too."

Your brow furrows. You don't—

"And I got hard," he confesses, voice barely audible. "Right there. Couldn't... after that, I couldn't get off to anything else. Couldn't stop thinking about it. About someone—about you—degrading me like that."

He finally meets your eyes, desperate and bare.

"So I started treating you the way I wanted you to treat me. I was shitty to you because I wanted you to be shitty back. I wanted—" He breaks off, jaw tight.

You stare at him.

"That's..." You sit back, processing. Your hands are still on his chest, but they're lighter now, almost hovering. "That's fucked up, Mingi. That's genuinely atrocious."

You shift your weight, thighs pressing harder against his hips. Your hand finds his jaw, thumb brushing the mark your slap would leave. "Safeword check. Remember what I told you?"

"Kitty." The word comes out rough, immediate. He's still locked in, pupils blown wide.

"What's your red? Your no goes."

"I don't..." He swallows. "Don't like being choked. Or spanked."

"Slapping?"

His breath catches. "Green."

Your hand moves before your brain catches up—palm cracking across his cheek, snapping his head to the side. The sound is sharp, obscene.

"You liked me?" Your voice drops, dangerous and low. You grip his chin, forcing him to look at you. "You couldn't even fucking recognize me, sick fuck."

"If you really mean it," you say, "then show me."

Your thumbs hook into your underwear, sliding them down your thighs. You step out, kicking them aside, then move over him—knees settling on either side of his head, lowering yourself until you hover just above his mouth. Close enough that he can smell you. Feel your heat.

"Then fucking eat."

Mingi doesn't hesitate. He surges up, mouth finding you with a desperation that makes your breath catch—thick lips closing around your clit, suction immediate and hungry. He drags his tongue upward in one long, flat stroke, pressing firm so he can taste all of you, everywhere, the broad muscle working relentlessly against you.

You're soaked. A thin line of wetness escapes, trickling down to his jaw, pooling in the hollow of his cheek before he swipes it away with another pass of his tongue.

He flicks the tip of his tongue rapidly against your clit. The sensation zips up your spine like current as you roll your hips, pressing down harder, grinding against the bridge of his nose until you feel the bone.

The view from above wrecks you.

Mingi's pupils are blown wide, eyes rolled back to crescents of white, lashes fluttering. The rope has bitten deep into his big arms, the skin there flushing an angry, bitter red. His platinum hair spreads across the wet sheets in tangled strands, darkening where sweat and spit have soaked through.

You have to force yourself to breathe.

Below, his hips piston upward in empty thrusts, rutting against nothing. The thin black jock you gave him strains tight, a dark, spreading patch blooming at the front where he's leaked through the fabric, desperate and untouched.

Finally, you take a closer look. Pausing your grinding almost curiously—thoroughly impressed.

"You act like such a fucking pussy," you breathe, rolling your hips down harder. "But you're hung like you could actually break me. Might snap me in half before I get the chance to break you in."

You sink lower, settling your full weight over his mouth and nose. His breath hot against your thigh.

Mingi doesn't panic at the weight of you. He doubles down, mouth working frantically beneath you, lapping and sucking like a man on a mission.

You feel him still beneath you—muscles tensing, heels digging into the mattress with a groan. Mingi tries to lap at you, almost languidly.

You reach down, fingers sliding under the jock's band, and tug him free. He's hot in your palm, throbbing, and you roll the ring off in one quick motion.

and when he cums, he cums hard.

His head snaps back, a ragged sound tearing from his throat, and he comes in thick ropes that stripe his heaving chest, his trembling stomach—one landing high enough to catch the edge of his parted lips, his flushed cheek.

You don't give him time to recover before your mouth is on him, cleaning off the excess still dribbling down the ridge of his cock.

"Sit up." You instruct.

You shift off him and move to his wrists, unbinding the ropes with practiced efficiency. Mingi flexes his fingers, opening and closing his hands to chase the blood back into them.

"Is this all you wanted?" You arch a brow, voice dropping soft. "Some attention?"

You smooth a strand of hair from his forehead, tuck it behind his ear. Your palm curves along his jaw, thumb dragging across his lower lip—pressing, testing. "Open."

He parts his lips slowly, tongue easing out in offering before flattening, stretching down toward his chin. Submissive. Empty—waiting.

"All those years acting out..." You trace his mouth with your eyes. "And this is what you were after."

Your index and middle fingers slide onto his tongue, pressing down against the wet heat of it. He's salivating already, slick gathering against your skin, salt mixing with salt.

His eyes well up—glossy, desperate—and you swear you've never seen anything this pretty. Not when his brows curve down in that perfect blend of pleasure and ache as your fingers prod the back of his throat. Not when his moans vibrate against your palm, when everything is wet: your hand, his lashes, his jaw, rivulets of spit trailing down to pool in the hollows of his collarbones.

"Or is this what you wanted?" You push deeper, feeling him gag softly around your knuckles. "My hand down your throat?"

He sits before you, hands braced on your hips, staring up with something almost puppy-like in its devotion. He nods—shameless, earnest.

"All I ever wanted." His voice is husky, worn thin with exhaustion and lingering need.

"All that effort," you laugh, "just to be used like a little toy."

You grip his cock—still slick and firm before giving him a few rough strokes. Then you lift your hips and sink down onto him in one motion, sheathing him completely.

His eyes roll back.

You pause. Five full seconds of mercy, feeling him throb inside you, watching his mouth fall open. Then you begin to move—slow, intentionally brutal of your hips against his. Your fist reaches to tighten in his hair.

Mingi stutters out a sound, half moan, half embarrassed cry that catches in his throat. "S-shit!"

It burns—his girth stretching you wide, delicious and punishing, throbbing like it has its own pulse. Your ass smacks against his thighs with every downward stroke, the skin there flushing red from impact. His whole body shakes beneath you, oversensitive and overwhelmed.

You lean down, tongue tracing the column of his throat, then hover above his mouth.

Your spit falls between you.

Mingi's lips part. His tongue catches it, heavy-lidded and delirious. He swallows slow, forcing his eyes to stay open—locked on yours, asking without words: See? Aren't I good for you?

You spit again—except this time, it falls directly between your tits. Mingi licks up your sternum, eyes still locked on yours.

Your hips roll, rise, and fall with fatal precision. Your tits bounce with the force of it.

He's fucking huge. Taking him feels like being pushed to your absolute limits—every throb and twitch forces you to accommodate him inch by inch, your body yielding to the sheer weight of him. It's a feat in itself just to fit all of him.

But then something shifts.

Mingi tilts his head back, eyes closed, offering himself up in a silent plea for the kiss he's too scared to ask for.

You answer by catching his bottom lip between your teeth, biting just hard enough to leave indentations before releasing. He sighs into your mouth as you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him close until your chests flush together. You flinch at the sudden contact—the leather of his harness, still warm from his skin, brushes against your nipples.

His tongue sweeps against yours, jaw loosening to take you deeper.

“Fuck," he breathes, hands sliding to your hips to pull you down against him. It’s urgent—hot in ways you can’t say you expected riding Mingi after years of hating him would be.

"If you cum in me, I'll kill you."

"Mhm. Fuck—" He hisses against your mouth, breath ragged as he drives you down on him. "Yes ma'am."

His palms spread over your ass, gripping tight and rocking you in a rhythm that has you gliding up and down effortlessly.

He looks over your shoulder and spreads you wider, staring down at where your bodies meet. When he pulls out to watch you gape open, you can't even summon the energy to be annoyed—you just shove him back down and ride him. Hard.

His hands grip your waist, admiring the way you bounce on his cock, the soft give of your body. He looks at himself, at the white mess coating his shaft. "So fucking creamy."

You grab his face, pinching his cheeks until his mouth puckers, then slap him—sharp—and shove two fingers past his lips, gripping the wet heat of his inner cheek as you slam down on him.

"Shit—you feel so good," he whines, long blonde hair falling into his eyes. "Wait, I'm cumming—"

His face goes panicked, puppy-desperate. You smile softly. “Mhm. You can cum on my tummy."

You fall back, working your clit to finish yourself off, fighting the urge to pull him deeper and cave to your (covert) need to have him cum inside do you.

His large body shadows yours as he buries his face in your neck with a cry, once you rub the tip of his cock with the palm of your hand.

"Clean it," you manage, barely audible.

Mingi drags his tongue across your hipbone, down the soft curve of your stomach, licking himself off you with something like tired worship. He finds your hand, sucking at your palm, sliding wet kisses between your fingers.

He lies flat then, face buried in your thigh, and spreads you open to taste what's still dripping from you.

Wordlessly, you pull him into your arms and cradle him against your chest.

You brush his hair back from his forehead, cupping his face as your thumb gently wipes the sweat from his temple.

“…I really did like you back then,” he mumbles, his face still buried between your breasts.

You let out a quiet hum. “Oh? Did you now?”

He groans into your chest. “God… fuck high school. Truly.”

His arms tighten around your waist.

More than anything, he hopes high school Mingi hasn’t completely ruined things for the version of him that finally might get the girl.

fin.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: sub mingi in the year of our lord. a quick writeeee + bonus photos of what mingi looks like in dirty little freak :3

O anel peniano segue vibrando ao redor do pau de Mingi, toda aquela pressão bem rente as bolas doloridas. A pocinha esbranquiçada e viçosa em frente a ele é uma clara evidência de quanto tempo esse tormento já está acontecendo.

— Por favor, hmm por favor, eu não... Eu não aguento mais. — Ele continua o chororô com mais gemidos.

Sentada em frente ao Mingi, você roça a pontinha do salto sobre o pau ainda intocado do mesmo, o observa espasmar, as gotinhas brancas e pegajosas transferem-se pro seu calçado. Mingi choraminga mais, simulando estocadas desajeitadas contra os movimentos superficiais do seu pé.

— Que situação deprimente a sua, hein? — Você debocha. — Na boate tava rodeado de mulheres e bebidas, e agora aqui, como um cachorrinho carente, chorando e debilitado. — Se inclina pra frente e segura o rosto de Mingi, as unhas compridas enterrando na pele enquanto o obriga a olhar nos seus olhos. — Você é tão desprezível que chega a dar pena.

Song exibe um semblante angustiado, o que só te arranca um sorrisinho divertido. Você sabe bem que tudo que Mingi faz é unicamente na tentativa de buscar sua atenção, mesmo que isso signifique se comportar como um mulherengo safado na tentativa de provocar ciúmes.

E apesar da situação ser ridícula, você não deixa de aproveitar, afinal é uma boa circunstância para lembrar a Song quem realmente tá por cima nessa.

— Por favor amor... Tira isso de mim, dói tanto! Me deixa te sentir só um pouquinho, por favor, eu nunca mais vou fazer isso de novo, juro, mas por favor...

— Nunca mais vai fazer o que? Tentar me causar ciúmes? Agir como o homem nojento que você é? Ah, querido... — Ainda inclinada em direção a Mingi, você afrouxa o aperto e acaricia brevemente uma das bochechas molhadinhas do mesmo, afastando com o polegar as gotículas que escorrem ali, observa com atenção quando ele se apoia ao seu toque. — Você nunca vai conseguir esse tipo de reação de mim. Lembra? Sou eu que tenho você na palma da minha mão, jamais o contrário.

Ah, como pode? Suas palavras severas ecoam tão docemente, brincando com a cabeça de Mingi, sendo capazes de até o arrepiar, fazendo o pau dolorido latejar sob cada palavrinha cruel dita por você. Tão perversa, malvada. porra, ele ama isso.

— Só porque hoje tô me sentindo bem humorada... — Se estica o suficiente para desligar a vibração do anel peniano e logo retira o brinquedinho, causando um alívio instantâneo em Song que suspira trêmulo. — Vou cessar seu castigo por ora e talvez permitir que você enfie esse seu pau miserável em mim, desde que não goze antes de eu deixar, entendeu?

Mingi engole em seco, acena com a cabeça positivamente, tão desesperado pra sentir o alívio de enterrar a pica em você, mesmo sabendo que só de sentir seu interior macio e molhadinho ao redor dele vai ser o suficiente pra te lotar de porra… Apesar da punição, vale a pena tirar uma casquinha.

Gostou? Dá uma forcinha aí! Uma curtida, um reblog ou um comentário são mais do que suficientes para eu saber que você se agradou com meu conteúdo :)

His words caught in his throat immediately. He didn't care how pathetic it sounded because at the end of the day, no one would know, right? Even if anyone found out, he wasn't sure he would be embarrassed. Though it was really hard to think about anything when your fingers trail up his thigh, shaking slightly as he bit his lip.

"What about the new sound?" you say in a cruel tone.

"Baby, I can't remember what I was talking about when you're touching me like that," he whines when your hand finally reaches his bulge, pressing down on it softly. Another collection of whimpers falls from his lips.

"But I'm not even doing anything," you say, pouting as his hips buck up against your hand.

He looks down at where your hand had found home, and you smile as he gets harder as the seconds pass. "Please stop," his big hand wrapping around your wrist.

"Okay." You take your hand off and place both of them in your lap, looking down at them. His hips twitch at the loss of feeling against his dick, begging for more attention—attention it needed after how hard he had been working the whole comeback.

"No, don't do that," he whines, grabbing your hand again, placing it back on his bulge, grinding hard against it. "Don't tease me, please."

You stroke him through his sweatpants slowly. "What do you want me to do?"

A whine left his throat. He hated asking for it; he didn't want to ask. Actually, it was embarrassing to him, even if it didn't matter. It was submitting more so far off what his fans would think of him as a dominant man who doesn't let anyone tell him what to do, yet he was putty in your hands, and you didn't even touch him the way he craved.

"Touch me here," he says as he drags your hand over to his cock where you feel him throbbing against your hand.

"Here?" you ask innocently, rubbing slightly harder. He bucks up into your hand, a whimper ripping from his throat. "Are you sure, Mingi?"

"Yes, please, baby," he moans, throwing his head back, lost in the pleasure that he was barely getting due to the fabric in the way. You stop, and he opens his eyes to look at you as you hook your fingers on his sweats and boxers to pull them down, freeing his dripping cock to the air.

You watch his member twitch, and you take it back into your hand and blow on it, watching Mingi's face twist in a mix of pleasure and discomfort. "What do you think Atiny would think if they saw how whiney you are in bed," you mock. "Do you think they would still bark if they knew you would wear color if I asked?"

"I-I don't know," he whimpers, tears springing to his eyes as you swipe the slit of his cock where more precum drizzles down the length. You slip down the bed, smiling as you slowly lick the salty cum. His eyes lock on yours, a whine slipping out of his throat.

His hips jerk up, hitting the back of your throat. Your eyes water, you gag slightly, you dig your fingers into his thighs, and he moans, "Y/nnn, fuck, please."

You smirk as you hollow out your cheeks and take him deeper in your mouth. You hum at the taste, and he shoots forward and grips your hair. You place your hand on his flexing stomach, pushing him to lay back down on his back. He moans again at the loss of control.

Your nails claw at his stomach as your head bobs faster. His whimpers, whines, and moans become a melody you bob to as you feel his abs tense up and his cock throbbing harder against your tongue. As his moans find a climax, you pull back, watching a steady stream of precum, and smile to yourself. "Y/N, why would you do that?" he whined, his eyes shining with unshed tears.

"I wanna watch you cry when you cum," you say teasingly as you straddle his hips, your lace panties leaving nothing to the imagination as you grind against the lace draping over the tip of his cock. "You think you can do that for me, pretty?"

"Yes, I can, I really can," he whimpers as you pull your panties to the side. Your soaking pussy exposed to the air sends a shiver down your spine. You sink down slowly, every torturous inch for both of you. Mingi's and your groans and moans mingle, lost in pleasure. You watch as his face scrunches in pleasure.

"Fuck, do you feel you stretching me out," you groan.

"Yes, you fe-feel so good," he whimpers out barely, his knuckles going white from how tightly he is gripping the sheets, wandering to grip your hips quickly as you roll your hips forward. Mingi closes his eyes and whimpers out your name. You know he is trying to stop himself from blowing.

"What you're doing, Mingi, is counting sheep," you whisper as you lean your chest on his.

"I'm trying not to cum. I don't want to let you down."

"You're so cute when you work hard to make me proud. You're such a good boy," you say.

You edged him so many times you forgot who wanted to cum more because you were always edging yourself too. Mingi lets out a loud sob. "Please let me cum," he moans, tears rolling down his face. You kiss the tears and smile.

"Cum for me, pretty boy," you smirk as the sound of sloshing skin becomes louder, and your name becomes a prayer falling from Mingi's lips as he spills out into you. His own orgasm triggering your own orgasm as you cum hard on top of him.

His cock twitches inside of you as you roll your hips, overstimulation claiming his bones. "Baby, no more."

"No more," you kiss his jaw.

The invitation had come maybe four years after Hongjoong had run into you for the first time. Recently graduated from high school, and completely abandoned by the idol company you had spent countless hours pouring your soul into a futile dream, you had occupied your free time with a part time job at the same music store you were a regular at. You had been working there for a few weeks before Hongjoong had walked in, letting the merciless cold wind of early January into the small store and making you shiver. He had browsed around for a few minutes, curious eyes tracking through the rows of CDs and feeling a bit self conscious that he seemed to be the only client at the time. He had bought a few CDs, paying and accepting the plastic bag you gave him with a polite smile before he had left. That had been it.

Until he had come back a few days later.

Another Michael Jackson CD rested over the glass counter, his polite hands pushing it towards you with a small greeting. It’d been a slow day, so you thought it might not be any harm into striking up a simple conversation. Years down the line, you would find out that you might have been deadly wrong.

“Big MJ fan?”

His eyebrows shot up, eyes suddenly attentive and for the first time looking straight at you.

“Sorry?”

“You bought some last week, didn’t you?”

He paused, then his mouth opened in a surprised smile.

“Ah, yes! I did” he accentuated his words with a small clap, before adding “You remembered me?”

He almost felt like apologizing when he saw the look you were giving him while scanning the CD, eyes falling back to the counter.

“Is just strange seeing someone your age interested in these”

The comment seemed to fill him with pride, judging by the way the corners of his mouth rose up to his cheeks.

“I discovered it a bit ago. I’m trying to find more music like this”

You placed the scanner down over the counter, pondering for a moment before going around the counter and approaching one of the multiple rows of CDs. Hongjoong watched you, wondering if he was supposed to follow you. Before he could debate the idea however, you were already coming back with a CD in your hands.

“Have you listened to this one?”

He leaned in slightly and read the name of the band, then shook his head.

“No, but I have heard of them” he hadn’t “Like, in forums and stuff”

“It’s really good”

He bit down on his bottom lip and took a shy look down at the wallet in his hands.

“I only have enough for one, though” he took a look at your embarrassed expression “I’ll buy this one! I can come back for the Michael Jackson one some other time”

“No, it’s okay!” you scanned the CD you had brought him and put both of them in the plastic bag “That’s 16000₩”

He stood there, fingers frozen as he grabbed onto the single bills inside his beaten wallet.

“That’s the prize of one”

“It’s on the house” you had said “Money shouldn’t deprive you from good music”

Your face was burning hot despite the casualness of your statement. He could tell, though. Could see your flushed cheeks and the way you locked eyes with him like you were trying to prove you didn't feel bad. But you had felt so terribly ashamed of putting him in such an embarrassing position, to the point of making up for it with your own money. He thought then you might be a very kind person. Nothing you would ever do ever since would make him change his mind about that.

The silence that stretched between you then had been... strange. The air felt as if something had shifted, and it’d never go back to be the same.

Looking back, you were almost sure you both had known in that moment.

“Thank you so much” he said through his teeth as he gave a shy smile, eyes fixed on the counter as he accepted the bag from you.

He had barely taken one step backwards before he had decided to ask you. His body was turned to the side as if that would shield him from the awkwardness of what he was about to do.

“How old are you?”

“Uh?”

“Ah, sorry! It’s just, to know what honorifics to use” he explained in one breath.

You nodded in understanding, amused.

“I was born ninety-six”

“Ninety-eight” he pointed to himself.

The very next time Hongjoong greeted you by your name he decorated it with a polite -ssi at the end. You had insisted he dropped it, not a big fun of imposing the hierarchy on those younger than you yourself. It would take him a few months to actually do that, though, polite as he was the formal speech kept slipping from him. In that time you had introduced him to MIDI when he had made mention of wanting to learn how to compose, but feeling a bit lost.

“Don’t waste your time learning how to play a guitar and just start with this, trust me”

You had been there yourself. You had told him all about your trainee years, swallowing the embarrassment of having to explain how you were dropped from line ups time after time. That’s why you had been a bit worried when he had been contacted by one of the multiple companies he had sent his mixtapes to. You hadn’t planned to become a makeshift dance teacher, but you hadn’t been able to let Hongjoong hang around the gloomy basement of a shady company by himself. After the few members of the staff had taken a liking to you, on account of you working for free, that was how things had turned out.

It was after one of these long practice lessons that Hongjoong had finally brought up something he had wanted to ask you for a week. He had regretted taking so long. Had he done it earlier in the day he might have at least looked a bit more proper. Now after hours of practice, clothes drenched in sweat and dirty hair a mess he didn’t feel as confident.

“Would you come to my graduation ceremony?”

The arched brow you directed his way didn’t help ease his nervousness.

“Don’t you only get a couple invitations? For your parents?”

“My brother can’t come and dad has to work, so it’ll only be my mother”

Those facts were true, and he couldn’t deny how happy he had been about it when he had found out. It was perfect, really. He had wanted you to attend his last school festival and watch the broadcasting club presentation, but you had been busy yourself. He also wanted his mother to see you, even if he wasn’t sure as to exactly why yet.

“When is it?” he had pulled out his phone, reading the schedule to you. A flash of disappointment passed by his eyes when he looked back at you and saw the sad expression in your face “I’m sorry, I’m going to be out of town with my friends”

Hongjoong knew of your friends. It was hard for him to hide the way it bothered him whenever you mentioned them, if only because of the fact that your main friend group consisted of mostly men. You had found it cute at the time, the way he would go “ah~” at the mention of any of their names while he looked away or at his phone, whose screen showed no notifications whatsoever. It had gotten slightly worse the day he had met your friend Jun a week prior, though.

You hadn’t planned for it. For obvious reasons you hadn’t wanted to think too deeply about, you’d have prefered for these two to never meet. However after helping Hongjoong and the other trainees with practice and having had exams in the morning, you had found yourself utterly exhausted. And so Jun had shown up to pick you up.

You had tried to act neutral and composed, while internally trying to explain to yourself that there really shouldn’t be anything that made this interaction actually dangerous. But you knew, deep down. No matter how hard you had tried to ignore Jun’s behaviour and Hongjoong’s boyish reactions. You had known which one you were trying to save from it. The way Jun had looked down at Hongjoong with that crooked smile of his that would usually simply pass as cheeky wasn’t lost on you. You could tell Hongjoong’s smile had tensed across his face, his gaze immediately looking for yours when he saw the tall guy stand way tol close to you.

“Jun, this is Hongjoong. I’ve told you about him before”

“Yeah, a lot”

Hongjoong didn’t let the condescending tone dwindle the feeling of cockiness that flooded through him upon knowing you had talked about him. A lot.

“Ah, this is Jun? You have mentioned him before, I think?”

Jun’s hand found your shoulder in a possessive grip, bringing you closer to his side. You had been used to it, but not really like that. Not in front of him.

“Yup, that’s me. Nice to meet you. Should we go?”

You had given Hongjoong an almost apologetic look before waving him goodbye and telling him to get home safely. He had watched the car disappear around the corner, and only then did his hands loosen up from the fists they had been balled into. You wouldn't go to Hongjoong’s graduation, but you would spend the whole day getting updates from him on your phone while your friends sat opposite you playing drinking games. You had zoomed into his graduation pictures, a proud, fond smile spreading across your face.

The invitation to his house came after the debut date had been confirmed. After three years of friendship Hongjoong’s family had decided that the polite thing to do was thank you in person for all you had done. It had been pleasant to meet them, even though you had felt a bit weird about the whole ordeal. You were sure Hongjoong had exaggerated about you, and you were worried they might realize you were just a kid that had helped him mess around with a keyboard and taught him how not to trip over his own feet. Still, it had been a very pleasant evening, making casual, fun conversation with his parents as well as with his brother. That is something Hongjoong hadn’t accounted for.

Hongjoong had sat at the table, sweaty palms pressed against his knees as he watched you speak to them. Every time you made them laugh his eyes would divert from you to where his older brother had sat across the table, leaning back against the chair with a wide grin. He brought it up while he was walking you to the bus stop. It was a quiet night, still cold but pleasant. Hongjoong walked beside you, falling a little bit behind as he was lost in thought, not sure of how to bring it up.

“Was that okay?” that wasn’t exactly what he had wanted to ask, but he wasn’t entirely sure of how to word what he actually wanted to know.

“It was fun! And they must be relieved that you haven't been hanging out with a creepy serial killer”

“I kind of am, though?” he joked, rising his palms up after seeing the look he had known you’d give him.

He then became quiet, his tongue slid across his dry bottom lip.

“I think my brother thought you were really funny”

You hummed, the sound low and almost lost in the constant noise of the road next to you.

“Is that so?”

You had noticed, but you hadn’t wanted to think about it. Hongjoong fell silent once again.

“He’s always like that” his voice strained as he tried to sound amused, nonchalant “Whenever he sees a-- girl”

You smiled to yourself, turning to him with a knowing smile. He stopped too, tense smile as he refused to look at you, knowing he had been caught.

“Can I say something about your brother without you getting mad at me?” you asked, and Hongjoong nodded. You dramatically placed your hand on his shoulder, brows furrowed like you were about to give him devastating news “You are the handsome one of the two. So don’t worry”

You could feel the weight of your statement slowly falling over the both of you, the thin net of humor your tone had casted to stop it not strong enough. Not with the way Hongjoong’s eyes seemed to shine impossibly bright under the dim lights of the bus stop lamppost.

"Also I don’t date my friend’s siblings. I think it should be illegal to do that, to be honest” you joked as you put your arm around his shoulder and dragged him with you, something you both had grown accustomed to.

Had it been anyone else he would have flinched. You wouldn’t find out about Hongjoong’s dislike of skinship until someone would mention it to you time later. You hoped the familiar gesture would dissipate the tense air that had settled, that acting so casually would make it go away. Like you hadn’t said something stupidly dangerous.That arm over his shoulder felt heavy, the short wait until the bus arrived seeming to pass impossibly slow. Not that either of you minded.

Once you stepped onto the bus, you'd stop being in Hongjoong's life the way you had. From then on meeting each other would be close to impossible. When the headlights of the bus made their appearance at the back of the street both of you felt your hearts shrink. Neither of you acknowledged it.

You hadn’t realized how used you both had become to each other until a single day without seeing or talking felt uncomfortable to live through. The feeling was unnerving, there was no other way to put it. Your days had suddenly started to feel empty and void, the hours dragging impossibly slow. The only thing bringing a genuine smile to your face was the updates you’d get through their official social media accounts. The occasional text and call happened, but it was rare. They didn’t really compensate for the whole year you had gone without hearing much from him. Hell, you had heard more from other members than himself, and while it worried you he might be too busy, you also had to consider another option. The uncomfortable thought that you might not have been a priority anymore.

You had sat with the thought for a long time, uncomfortable and heavy on your chest until that late summer night when your phone had rung. A name on the screen you hadn’t seen for a while.

“I’m sorry” those had been the first words he had spoken to you. You could hear the way he was trying not to cry in between the lines that were his long pauses “I don’t want you to worry about me.... but I can’t talk to anyone else”

The taxi driver that had stopped for you had expected you to ask him to take you to the hospital with the way you had signaled him down. Instead you had asked him to drop you at a narrow street only populated for a few restaurants still open. Hongjoong had asked you to please wait at the small park on the other side of the street, one barely illuminated with the light from the lampposts getting obstructed by the trees. When you had caught a glimpse of him standing in the middle of it you had ran across the street until you were in front of him, heart pounding and a bit out of breath. He had stared at you then, glassy, irritated eyes watching as you brought your hands up like you were about to place them on both sides of his face. He wished you had, anxious heart crushed as he watched them shake before you put them down. But still you were there, staring at him like you had missed him for a thousand years. He never wanted to see that expression on you. Never wanted the be the reason why you’d look anything but happy.

“Sorry to make you come all the way here” he said, clearing his throat to hide the shakiness of it.

He rubbed at his eyes, like that'd make the traces of his pain go away. It was so stupid really, how much he wanted the comfort of your presence while loathing the idea of you seeing him like that.

“Don’t say that. Come, sit down” he felt the light touch of your fingers over his, not grabbing at them but as silent invitation to sit with you on the empty bench. He sat down with you following suit, further away than you usually would. He noticed, but didn’t want to think about it “How long do we have before you have to go back inside?”

“A bit”

“Okay, tell me. What’s worrying you?”

It took some effort for him to tell you about it all, and even then he missed a few things, but you got it. The members, the company, the poor sales despite the world tour they just came back from. He had been so happy in all the videos and pictures you had seen of him, saved them on your gallery while feeling a bit embarrassed about it. You saw the way he clasped his hands together between his knees, pleading for warmth and maybe something else.

“What’s wrong?” His question pulled you back. He stared intently at you, searching your face as if trying to figure out what was wrong. So he could maybe fix it. Your brows furrowed in confusion until you noticed the tears that had fallen from your eyes. He wiped one of them with his finger, quickly, like he hadn’t meant to “Don’t cry because of me. It’ll make me feel worse” he complained.

You shook your head, his shape disappearing behind the blur of tears fogging your vision.

“It’s not that. It’s just--”

You couldn’t tell him, really.

How were you supposed to tell him that you had just fought with your best friend of eight years because his jealousy had gotten to a tipping point when Hongjoong had called you that same night. He had seen the way your had eyes lit up when you looked at the incoming call on your phone. He hadn’t needed to read the name written in black against the blinding white of your screen. He had gotten used to that expression of contained excitement whenever Hongjoong would call you. Or simply whenever you had talked about him, which you had done for many years by then. And he was tired. Tired of how your voice would get a tad bit higher when you would talk to him, or about him, before immediately lowering like you were worried people would notice. No one did, really, the change too subtle for most people to feel the change.

But he did.

“You are seriously leaving right now?”

You had already been hanging your purse over your shoulder and dragging the chair across the wooden floor of the restaurant.

“It’s an emergency”

“Yeah, sure” he spat, flopping on his chair.

The rest of your friends looked between the two of you before fixing their nervous stares into the table where the ox bone soup you had ordered sat unfinished and growing cold.

“What’s with you?”

You shouldn’t have asked that, because you knew. It had been going for a while, but you wanted to pretend you had a chance to win this fight.

“Nothing, just go”

“Of course I'm going”

The argument had followed you outside where he had continued to argue with you until you managed to grab a taxi. You were used to this conversation. You had had it multiple times through the years, bits and pieces of it accumulating to this one argument that had ended up costing you your friendship outside the restaurant while the rest of your friends peeped through the wide windows.

“You are so embarrassed of him” he laughed bitterly “You won’t even admit you like him”

“That’s because I don’t!”

The words had felt heavy when you had spat them at him before getting in the taxi. They had sat on the backseat with you, swirling around until they had turned into nothing more than noise. Loud, suffocating. The whole ride to him you had sat there, with only your loud heartbeat and your lies to make you company. By the time you had seen him it had hit you like a blow to the chest, and you hadn’t had time to worry about it before you had ran to him

“What is it?” Hongjoong had asked in a whisper, voice small and laced with so much worry.

You couldn’t really tell him any of that.

His eyes darted around your face: your teary eyes, the wet path tears had left on your cheeks, your slightly red, trembling lips. You watched him watch you almost as in slow motion, like time had seemed to slow down as a favour before your whole world crumbled down with the realization that you were in love with him.

No matter how many times you have replayed the moment in your head, you still can’t comprehend what went through your mind before you leaned in and kissed him. You do remember the wet, salty taste of the tears over his slightly chapped lips. The way you felt his breath catch on his throat along with the small sound of surprise that never made it past your joined lips. You couldn’t see the way his eyes widened in surprise before they fluttered shut.

Calling it a kiss might have been giving it too much grace. You had almost fell forward when you had leaned in, having nothing to lean on until you had found his knee which tensed under your touch. His body was still stiff when you pulled back, reality washing over you cold and unforgiving as your lashes fanned against the high of your cheeks. Your pulse hammered at your temple, loud and making you dizzy. The expression on his face made your chest ache. He looked confused? Maybe scared. You were, at least. His lips were still parted in a question that you had no answer for. Or you had it, just didn’t want to speak it aloud.

“I’m sorry” you whispered, so close he felt the words caress at his lips where the ghost of your kiss remained fresh and vivid.

You stood from the bench, the ground seeming to tremble underneath you. Maybe the heavens had listened to your prayer, and the earth was kindly opening up to swallow you whole. You might have fallen into the dark abyss that your mind was turning into if it had been for the strong, almost painful way in which Hongjoong had held onto your wrist. You’d seen the look on his face before he had stood up and pulled you towards him: furrowed brows, determined, and maybe a bit upset.

The grip on your wrist softened when your lips met again, nothing like the soft mistake you had made seconds ago but just as clumsy. His nose had bumped into your cheek a bit too strongly, a small groan of pain reverberating against your lips firmly pressed together. Hongjoong’s free hand stood by his side, tense and not sure of how to occupy itself. Yours however had been brought to his shoulder, softly pushing him until he had parted from you with a deep exhale. He looked at you through heavy, almost lazy lids. His eyes were not red anymore, a different kind of fog swimming in them. You wished you had waited a little longer, taken in the way he looked at you a bit more before you had spoken.

“We shouldn’t” Your words came with a trembling that he couldn’t ignore. His eyes seemed to freeze before they started shaking “I don’t want to get you in trouble. Don’t want to give you another reason to worry yourself sick. You already are...”

You continued listing the myriad of reasons as to why it shouldn’t happen. Why it couldn’t. But Hongjoong had stopped listening. You understood this when after his eyes had gotten lost somewhere at the bottom of his feet and you felt his hand let go of you. The corners of his mouth sunk on his face and he took a few steps backwards as he nodded solemnly.

“Yeah, okay”

“Hongjoo--”

“It’s late. I have to go. Sorry I made you come”

He didn’t give you a last look. He didn’t turn around one last time. He knew you were right. Every step he took his mind had begged him to turn around and tell you that he understood. To erase the devastated look in your face as the last one he’d see of you. He knew that had he been any other member, have you been any other girl, he would have been the one speaking these words. And yet his broken heart and the thick pride keeping the pieces of it together wouldn’t let him turn around. He couldn’t bring himself to forgive you for kissing him. Giving him a taste of what he’d never have when he had never dared to think he could get it in the first place.

You had always been so cruel, hadn’t you? Always noticed the way he’d look at you, the way his heartbeat fastened whenever you'd put your arm around him. Had it been fun for you? Had you ever seen him as anything but a child with a crush you couldn’t bother to entertain, too amusing to let go off?

If his heart had been able to speak, it would have told him that that wasn’t true. He knew this. But he never turned back, and the last thing you saw of him was his hunched back going inside the building before everything went dark.

It would be around a whole year before you’d hear from him again. A simple text on your screen from a number you thought he might had changed by then. But there it was, like it had never left.

쭝아

22:36 ‘Have you been well?’

22:36 ‘Would you like to meet?’

22:39 ‘I have time Thursday’

You had stared at them for a long time, and they made you feel like you were suddenly aware of how the earth slowly turned over itself. A slow dizziness came over you, and you had to sit down on the floor of your kitchen to read them all over again, not really opening them. You were too scared that they might disappear.

It had only been a week prior when you had sat on a balcony seat, watching his first ever home concert. It had been such a strange feeling, walking through these doors surrounded by people that were there for the same reason as you. That now, were the same as you. The days of Hongjoong and you dreaming aloud about huge concert venues, discussing a distant future where thousands of fans would scream just at the sight if his silhouette on the wide screen were long gone. These weren’t dreams anymore. They were reality. Hongjoong’s reality.

Yours had had you sat at the back of the stadium, just another face in the crowd.

Hongjoong had been very far away from you before, for really long periods of time. But sitting there with thousands of people screaming his name, was the first time that you felt the overwhelming distance.

Your tears had gone unnoticed, another teary faced fan among many. Still, you had stayed until the end.

Your phone vibrated over the tile floor again.

쭝아

22:41 ‘Does that work for you?’

You

22:43 'Hi, Hongjoong. Thursday works for me, as long as it’s after four”

쭝아

22:43 [location link]

‘See you at five?’

You hadn’t really expected an apology. To be fair, you weren’t sure if he should be the one doing it first. However, nothing could have prepared you for the words that had fallen from his mouth after the polite, awkward pleasantries had been done with.

“I’m seeing someone, actually” he had said, unprompted “For a few months now”

He had said it so casually, eyes set on you as if waiting for a reaction. You might have thought he was trying to provoke you. And you would have been right.

And so had he.

You felt the heat first, intense, prickling just beneath the thinnest layer of your skin. It was all over, creeping up from your chest to every last nerve on your body. It made your mouth run dry, not that you would have known what to say anyway. Then it hit you, not in the heart, but right in the stomach. Seething, white hot and painfully overwhelming: jealousy. Plain old jealousy.

Who? Is what you had wanted to ask. But it wasn’t your place. It had been before, years ago, but it wasn’t yours anymore. Your place was at the back of the concert venue, lost among other strangers that loved him.

On the other side of the table, your silence was making him ache. It wasn’t a lie, really. He had started seeing someone a few months back. He could see the effect of his announcement rippling through you, and his fingers trembled in eagerness as he waited for you to say something. Anything.

“That’s nice” The words painfully dragged out of your mouth, and he could tell.

It wasn’t enough, though. Watching you try to contain your true feelings wasn’t enough. He wanted you to lose it. Maybe even beg. He knew that wouldn’t happen, and that he’d hate seeing you like that anyway. But God, how he dreamed of it, night after night before falling asleep. In reality a simple “please” would undo him, a slight brush of your fingers over his would suffice. But it never came. Instead you said:

“Jun and I started dating a month ago, too”

Hongjoong’s expression hardened, grip tightening into the plastic cup he was holding on is hand and making it crumble underneath his fingertips. You looked up at him, and for a moment you both saw your true selves before you went back into trying to pretend you were doing nothing but update each other on your love life. Fixing what had been broken. He didn’t comment on it.

“Did you go to the concert?”

The question was sudden, charged. It made the air still and press onto you, suffocating. The way Hongjoong’s gaze was set on you wasn’t helping. Hard, direct, expectant. It wasn’t the question he had asked, but the one hidden between its words. That’s what he wanted to know.

“Of course I went” you said, choking on a shallow breath “I promised you, back then”

Hongjoong’s expression twisted for a split second, moulded by a feeling you couldn’t figure out.

“That’s good” it’s all he had said “I have to leave now, though. It was great catching up”

He said his goodbyes so quickly you had barley had time to stand from your chair and bow him goodbye. You were left there, having to come to terms with the growing suspicion that you were a terrible person.

A week later you had gotten confirmation of it when you had dialed Hongjoong’s number for the first time in years. Only when you had been ready to let it all go, burn every bridge you had ever built, did you tap your finger on the screen of your phone.

Hongjoong saw the screen of his phone lit up next to his mouse. Your name had flashed on the screen like a joke, a mirage brought upon him due the countless sleepless nights and hours of staring at his monitor. He picked his phone slowly, and when he came to the realization that it really was you, he picked up quickly, as if worried your call might slip like smoke through his fingers. He didn’t speak right away, instead the silence hung heavy between you two, almost palpable though the phone.

“Hello?”

It took you a bit to speak, trying to measure your words.

“Are you at the studio right now?” when your voice finally came through to him, his chest raised with a breath that got stuck at his throat. He made an affirmative noise “Can I go?”

Hongjoong stilled, his studio room suddenly feeling strangely small, walls closing in on him. He had always been very clear about his thoughts when it came to having female friends. Especially when it came to having a girlfriend. It was inconceivable for him to allow a girl to visit him at the studio late at night, just the two of you.

But you weren’t any girl.

You were worse.

“Nevermind, I’m sorry" you backtracked "I won’t go”

Hongjoong perked up and you heard shuffling through the phone.

“What, why?”

Because you were incredibly selfish, you thought. Because you wanted to tell him about how you broke up with your boyfriend the day he had told you about his girlfriend. You wanted to gauge his reaction, see if he’d squirm on his beaten up chair. You wanted to see his eyes would shake under the dim light of his studio. Test how much he really liked her, how much of a terrible person you could turn him into. It would have been such a cruel trap. One he could see coming. You could tell by the way he hesitated.

“I’m sorry I just...” really hate myself, is what you wanted to say “I feel like...” you were not too sure of that either “If I walked in there I think I’d become way worse of a person than I already am, and I can’t let that happen. I’m sorry”

“What do you mean? Who said you are a bad person?”

“I did”

You had been. Playing with his feelings, or so you had told yourself you had done. Kissing him and then telling him you couldn’t take him in. It had been wrong. Hongjoong’s voice shook on the other side, low and hurried.

“You are not” he stated firmly, and it hurt you how you could tell he meant it. How he’d still see the good in you, forget how upset he was with you to soothe your worries one more time. You didn’t deserve that “You’ve always been--”

“Have you kissed her yet?” the question cut through his reassuring words like a knife, bringing a sudden, tense silence with it. Your voice shook with shame and defeat. You need him to understand just how heinous you were. Maybe that way he’d stop looking at you with such bright eyes and affection in his voice that you were not worthy of. But there was also something else. Something less noble “I guess you have. Stupid question”

Hongjoong had felt silent on the other side. The room felt suffocating, the blue light of the monitors suddenly sickening him. He had forgotten he was holding his breath until he could feel his heart pounding in his head.

“I broke up with Jun a while ago, because I couldn’t stop worrying about that. That’s the kind of awful person I am these days” you confessed for the first time aloud, and it did make your stomach turn. Still you continued, ready to out all your awful secrets to him “I miss putting my arm around your shoulders, you know?”

Hongjoong felt himself stand up, his breathing suddenly labored. How, from all the things you could have ever said to him, did you manage to say the one he had always stupidly yearned for the most? A silent gesture that had always felt loud for him. Your touch on him, choosing him every time. Claiming him in front of everyone effortlessly. When you stopped him from arguments, dragged him away before he could get scolded by anyone else. “You are mine” its what he had wanted to believe you were telling him, telling everyone else, and receiving confirmation of it was making the room spin around him.

“The idea of another girl touching you is driving me insane”

The way you said it in an almost embarrassed whine knocked the air out of his chest, and he found himself holding tightly onto the edge of his desk to steady himself. Something ugly was brewing at the bottom of his stomach, it made its way up his spine with a pleasant shudder. You were always the older one, reasonable, grounding him. Hearing you confess to losing your mind over the idea of another girl putting her hands on him satisfying a part of him he’d always believe too ugly to explore. The pride. The dangerous satisfaction of knowing it wasn’t his imagination. For all his maturity, he was still childishly possessive himself. For a split second he enjoyed it, and then guilt seeped in.

He could tell you were trying to push him away again. Show him how ugly your insides were, disgust him enough that he'd ask you to leave him alone. These disgusting feelings, he wanted to tell you he had them too. They were taking over as you spoke.

“I understand that we shouldn’t talk anymore. I am sorry. It’ll be better if I hang up now”

He couldn’t let you do that. Not after getting a taste of what being loved by you was. Your obsession light at the tip of his tongue, sweet and intoxicating. He needed more of it. Needed it all.

“I kissed her. We touched each other too” he blurted, trying to get you to stay. His hand nervously tugged at the roots of his hair as he waited to hear the sound of the line being cut, but it never came “You wanted to know that, didn’t you?”

There was a brief pause before your voice came out the other side, smaller. Strangely calm.

“Yeah” you admitted, voice cracking a bit “How was it?” you asked in an almost masochist way.

The question made a rush of heat ripple through him, setting every inch of skin aflame.

“It was fine”

“Did you like it?” he swallowed hard, affected by something he couldn’t really place. The same something that made you ask “Is it better than when I kissed you?”

He licked his lips, now incredibly dry. His throat felt tight when he swallowed.

“No” he said “That’s such a cruel question”

It was, but he didn’t really mind it as much as he wanted to hear that hint of embarrassment in your voice that rung so sweetly in his ears again. He got a taste of it when you spoke again.

“Sorry, I just wanted you to say ‘no’?” you confessed“I have always known but... It’s scary how for the last few weeks since you told me about her I’ve started to realize just how obsessed I am with you”

The grip he had on his desk tightened, knuckles turning white and fingertips sore.

“Tell me about it?” his voice came out hot and breathless, words sticking together in a mix of want and wrong. It was starting to be difficult for him to ignore the tightness of his boxers. He’d have felt embarrassed about it if he hadn’t been so lost in trying to chase your voice through the phone, every second of your silence agonizing "Do you think of me when you are with him?"

Your silence had lasted less than five seconds, and yet he almost had asked you again when you had answered him.

"The only reason I'm with him is so I can forget you. But it doesn't work"

A genuine, borderline evil smile showed on his face. But you hadn't really answered his question.

"So do you think of me?" he repeated, slowly "When you are with him?"

He wanted to see your face in that moment. The way you'd look away the way you did when you were embarrassed. Your cheeks always flushed so easily. Did your lips purse slightly while you thought of how to answer him?

"Every time" you answered.

You heard a small sound on the other line. It sounded almost like a muffled, frustrated groan. Hongjoong leaned over the table, suppressing a pleased chuckle. He felt himself throb against the elastic fabric of his boxers. It was pathetic really, but he couldn't get enough of it.

"Come to the studio?" He asked "Come to the studio, please"

"I don't think I should"

Hongjoong panicked when he felt you pull away again, his body feeling impossibly cold at the idea of you going away.

“Why?”

“You know why. I’d turn you into an awful person” you closed your eyes, words heavy on your tongue.

“I can have things broken off with her in the time it gets you to get a taxi here”

The words knocked the air out of your lungs.

“I don’t think that’s possible”

“Why?”

“Because I am outside” you admitted “I’ve been outside the studio all along”

Hongjoong straightened up, adrenaline suddenly rushing through him as he stared at the door of his studio room.

“Come inside”

He could hear the way you shook your head on the other end. He would have thought it was cute if he hadn't been drowning in the fear that he might lose you again.

“No”

Hongjoong’s lips pursed in frustration. He was desperate, frustrated and way too hard.

“You are rejecting me again then?” he let out a borderline theatrical, humorless chuckle “Fuck with me again by telling me all this and then, what? Go away again? Is this funny to you?”

Before you could conjure up a good excuse he had hung up the phone. You stood there, submerged in the sudden silence of the empty street. The lights of the studio beaconed you in, tempting you with something you knew was a very bad idea. But you had to tell him.

Hongjoong hadn’t moved an inch either, standing in the middle of the room and staring at the phone in his hand like he was second guessing his plan. He had started to think about running after you when the door of the room flew open. You entered it with heavy steps and a flushed face. You looked like you had gone through hell. Oh, how he wanted to wrap you in his arms and fall in in with you. Together.

“I didn’t reject you and you know that” you snarled at him, voice hoarse with frustration.

Hongjoong let out a relieved sigh, hoping it’d go unnoticed by you.

“You said we couldn’t be together”

“Because we couldn’t, and you knew it! You should have been the one saying that to me!” he knew you were right. He had had a lot of time to think about it, but he had been too selfish to admit it. He also couldn’t admit he loved the way your voice rung as it grew louder, the way your expression twisted in one of anger as you shortened the distance between you two. One he had never seen before, new, only for him. Because of him “That was me saying ‘I love you and I don’t want to fuck up your life’. And you couldn’t understand that because you are a fucking child” Your pointing finger poked at his chest, the words making the light touch feel unbelievably heavy “You think you had a bad time? I had a bad time! I had to reject you, watch you push me away and then go and date someone else. Fuck you”

There had been a long silence stretching between you two, almost like the one the day you met. The same one, you recognized. Stretching so thin ever since that first meeting that it was ready to snap.

And then it did.

You had still been coming down from the adrenaline rush when Hongjoong hastily grabbed at the sides of your face, pulling you close with as much strength as he had and kissed you roughly. His lips pressed into yours with so much force that you could taste the faint hint of pain in them. You let out a shameful moan into his mouth, one of his own dying at your lips when he felt your hands immediately skip underneath his t-shirt to grab at his waist and pull him closer. You felt the warmth of his soft skin, the plush skin over the elastic of his boxers peeking through the sweats. It made you dig your nails onto his waist, earning yourself a surprised, sinful groan from him.

It was a mix of teeth, and tongue and unsaid words. His hand crawled underneath your top to scratch at your back, making you arch against him and bringing you impossibly closer. The other slithered under your hair, forcing your face closer to his until the tip of your nose hurt where it met his now flushed cheeks. Then he dragged your face away from his, pulling at your hair.

“What?” you complained with a pathetic whine, breathless.

“Because you never say it” his words slithered bitterly through his teeth, forehead pressed against yours and eyes burning through yours “Just say it”

He stared at you mouth expectantly, waiting for the words to roll of your tongue so he could swallow them. So he could allow himself to kiss you swollen, pretty pink lips that were calling out to him like a siren at sea.

“I love you, please”

The hand at the back of your head fisted painfully into your hair as he pulled you in for another long, breathless kiss. He pushed his tongue into your mouth almost forcefully, bringing a small smile to your busy lips. He hadn’t had much practice, but you’d let him have it. You pushed yourself away from him and he stared at you inquisitively, expectant. So well behaved. You brought your thumb to his plush, bottom lip, pressing on it softly.

“Open” you asked, almost sickly sweetly.

He obeyed, lips parting slightly and mouth watering under your attentive gaze. It was enough for you to gently brush your tongue against his, slow and deliberate. You took your time kissing him that way, your lips sucking at his tongue and kissing his lips in an agonizingly, unhurried way. You could feel his body reacting, hot under his clothes and hard on pressing against your lower belly. He wanted to get his hands on you, but he couldn’t deny he loved the torturous way you were working him. It was consuming him, he could feel himself melt into your touch with every faint brush of your fingers against his skin. The way your lips wrapped around his tongue to suck at it with a low hum was making him feel light-headed.

“You want me” he panted, like the realization had just come to him. Like he couldn’t believe it.

You nodded, nose brushing against his. Your hand traveled downwards, touching the bulge in his pants with barely suppressed want. He choked on a whine, and for a moment you worried, retracting your hand.

“I’m sorry. I just really want to touch you” you apologized, and the genuine shame made him twitch under he restraint of his boxers.

He shook his head, loose strands of hair falling in front of his blown out eyes.

“Touch me” he pleaded, jaded breath against your ear.

Your tongue dragged across his bottom lip and he opened his mouth wider, begging you to put it back inside where it had belonged all along. Wet and hot and deep inside his throat. The sound your lips made when you broke off the kiss sent a jolt of pleasure directly between your legs. You pressed the palm of your hand against his buldge, feeling him through his clothes.

"You feel good" you praised, enjoying the almost pained look on his face "I bet you feel really good too"

"Yeah?"

Your hand pumped him slowly over the gray sweats, and Hongjoong's expression turned into one of pure bliss. You pressed a chaste kiss to the side of his face, his eyes opening to stare down at you.

"We can't have sex for the forst time here" he said "It has to be special"

Warmth blossomed at your chest, the sweetness of the statement bringing a faint smile to your lips.

"I agree. But I think you need some help with this" you squeezed him through the sweats and his eyes fluttered shut before he nodded “Do you want me to fix it?"

He blinked slowly, suddenly looking intently at you through long lashes, expectant. You tentatively pulled at the elastic of his sweats, keeping eye contact as you felt his underwear peel of from his sweaty skin, dragging it down until he sprung free. Your eyes fell down for a second to sneak a peek, but he stopped you with a hungry kiss. You wrapped you hand around him: it felt heavy, hot and so unbelievably hard. The needy moan that Hongjoong let out was so sinful, so desperate that you had to stop yourself from getting on your knees in front of him and taking him into your mouth. You backed him against his deck.

“Show me how you like it? I want to do well for you"

You took his hand and placed it over your own, wrapping it carefully around his now fully hard cock. Hongjoong started at a slow pace, savoring the feeling of your touch around him, warm and foreign. You took notice of how he’d squeeze a bit more at the tip, precum coating your hand and making it slide though him with a nasty sound.

"Does that feel good?"

He nodded and let go of your hand, silently begging you to jerk him off dry in his small studio. Your eyes darkened with a sudden thought, your grip on him deliberate now, moving at your own pace.

“Did she do this for you?” the question made him throb in your hand, he shook his head “No?”

Hongjoong's teeth let go of his bottom lip to answer you, words pushing through his needy moans.

“We didn’t-- do much”

“How far did you go?”

There was a small beat, before he finally said:

“All the way”

You squeezed him mid stroke, dragging a wanton moan from deep within his chest, hand coming to grab at your shoulders. But nothing would have prepared him for the way he’d crumble in your hands when you spoke your next words.

“It should have been me”

The way you spoke against the shell of his ear prompted another slow throb of his cock. It sent a flood of warmth to your crotch, where your panties had started to stick uncomfortably to your by now sensitive pussy.

“Yes” he groaned, and it almost sounded like an apology. His fingernails sunk on the flesh of your shoulders where he was desperately holding onto “I thought about you. That’s why it was-- bad”

“Was it bad?”

“She wasn’t happy with my..."

Hongjoong left out a strained sigh. You could feel his body stiffening when he buried his nose on your neck. You brought your free handto the back of his head, leisurely threading your fingers through his bleached locks.

“It was your first time” you said “She should have been good to you”

You felt him thrust into your hand as another choked moan broke against your neck.

“I was being a bad person-- Thinking about you-- I made it bad, so...” he pushed in between thrusts “I deserved that. But we only did it once, I promise”

The new information brought huge satisfaction to you. It spread deliciously through you until it reached your cunt, making it squeeze around nothing.

“I’m sorry. It should have been good for you”

You brought your hand from his hair to his face, making him lift it from where it rested nested against your neck.

“It’s okay” he reassured you, pressing an open-mouthed, sweet kiss against your palm.

"It should have been me you had your pretty cock buried inside of, hm?"

Your thumb caressed at his lips, opening his mouth so the moan that came out of him could resonate loud and obscene through the walls of the studio. You felt a small shot of precum coat your hand, and you were quick to spread it along his cock. You licked your lips, taking in the sweet, ruined look on his face. The dusty pink spread all over his cheeks and his delicate features, dazed yet steady eyes staring at you with so much adoration.

“Noona will fix it” you spoke, like a promise.

Hongjoong’s expression flashed with something dark and raw, a low hiss passing though his greeted teeth. You felt a slow throb under in your hand, and you were sure you didn't have much time.

“Yeah?”

You nodded slowly, taking in the way his eyes bore into yours with laser focus, pleading and slightly glassy.

“But for now...” you let go of his member and brought your hand in front of his mouth “Spit”

Hongjoong stared at your hand, then his eyes rose up to yours again, big and with a mix of coyness and pure, unadulterated joy. A small nervous smile tugged at the corners of his lips, but he obeyed when you gave him an encouraging look with a tilt of your head. Hongjoong wasn’t sure what exactly was arousing him to the point of dizziness: your hand seamlessly sliding through his cock with the aid of his precum and own spit, or the possessive grip you had on his hip, nails digging at his hip bone. Maybe it was the slick, nasty sounds of you jerking him off resonating through the room. His head fell back with a breathy moan, presenting his throat so deliciously to you that you couldn’t help but to take a small nibble at it.

“Does it feel good?” you asked, lips pressed to his neck. He nodded lazily “Does she ever make you feel like this?”

You saw him swallow, the stretched column of his throat making the movement more prominent. Almost obscene.

“Never”

“Even when you were inside her?”

“No”

The denial came out in a borderline pained moan. Hongjoong’s head fell forward, and you could tell he wouldn’t last much longer. You jerked him off slowly, savoring every jerk of his body and desperate moan that came from his heaving chest. Even when you picked up the pace you made sure to slow down to squeeze at the tip.

"Imagine it's me" you spoke into his ear "Do you want to do that?"

He didn't answer. Instead you felt him anchor himself with one hand on the edge of the edge of the desk before he started thrusting into your sticky, slick covered fist.

“Fuck”

It was getting increasingly more difficult to ignore the delicious, burning feeling between your legs. You were sure it’d be seeping through your cotton panties by then. It was intoxicating how overwhelming everything felt. Reality had seemed to lift a veil from your eyes, anger and frustration long gone and now leaving you with the raw reality of Hongjoong, nested on your shoulder and fucking his cock against your hand. His smell, the heat of his skin underneath his old t-shirt, his hair sticking with sweat to your shoulder. The pain of his fingers gripping at your shoulder and the they he kept moaning in your ear.

You felt him shudder in your embrace before he pulled away, blown pupils boring into you through heavy lids.

“Since the day that I met you” he spoke in a breathless, broken cry. He didn’t continue, eyes simply lost on yours “Since the day that I met you”

“Me too, baby” your free hand found its place cradling the side of his face. You could feel the shiver that rippled through him at the pet name dropping from your lips, so close to his he could savor it “Where do you want to cum?”

His chest rose with a whiny moan. His eyes were out of focus, clouded by his incoming orgasm.

“Inside of you”

The honesty made you bit down a smile.

“Can’t do that now, can we?” even in that beautiful, fucked-out state of his he was able to shake his head in agreement “Couch”

You let go of him, earning a displeased groan from him. He let you push him towards the couch, sweats pulled down, and embarrassingly eager. The back of his knees hit the edge of the couch, and he didn’t even bother to readjust his posture. His hips buckled in an embarrassing, unconscious move when you approached him and got on your knees.

“Lift your t-shirt”

Hongjoong did as he was told, hands gripping at the hem of his t-shirt and lifting it to his chest, eager to please. You saw the muscles tense when you started pumping him again, but nothing had prepared him for the way your lips would feel wrapped around the sensitive skin of his cock. You sucked at his tip, drawing a loud, lewd moan from him, his hips raising from the couch in a silent, desperate plea for you to do it again. You keep your mouth over his red tip, taking in the sweet, salty taste of his precum in your mouth while pumping the rest of his length. It didn’t take long for Hongjoong to cum loudly, his hand covering his mouth while he made sure to fuck himself on your hand. Every last drop of cum fell against his stomach, glimmering in the dim light of the studio.

Your hands caressed slowly up and down his thighs over the soft fabric of his sweats, and you could feel the muscles relax as he caught his breath. Hongjoong’s brows furrowed and a small whine escaped him when he saw you drag your tongue across his abdomen. You could feel his his ab muscles flexing underneath your tongue as you licked him clean, swallowing every last drop.

“I told you noona would fix it” you left a chaste kiss right above his belly button, the delicious sound of Hongjoong crying reaching that nasty, hot spot between your thighs. He was staring down at you with something similar to awe when you looked up at him “Good?” he nodded, slowly “Is this how you’d imagined?”

“Better” he managed to say, voice hoarse.

You laughed at his honesty. You rested your head on his knee, and his hand gently stroked your hair while your thumb drew lazy circles on the exposed skin of his hip bone, all while keeping the most intense, gentle eye contact. For a few seconds you both simply stared at each other, submerged in an intimacy that felt too familiar. Finally you stood up, letting your knees sink at both sides of his hips onto the soft couch.

“Do you want me to do anything?” he asked, desperate and eager to please you.

You bit down on your bottom lip to stop the smile from spreading through your face.

“Some other time”

You kissed him softly, Hongjoong’s eyes remaining open and watching you up close, almost as if trying to make sure this hadn’t been a dream.

“Was it good?”

You nodded, lips brushing against his.

“You are so good”

A low, pleased hum rose from the back of his throat as he wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you closer.

"Are you going to stay with me?" he asked.

"I rather you break up with your girlfriend first"

"Shit" Hongjoong straightened on his seat to search for his phone, making you tumble "Sorry!"

You shouldn't have been laughing in a moment like that, but you couldn't help it. You really were a terrible person.

"It's okay, I already feel shitty enough"

Hongjoong paused on his search to place a gentle hand on your face.

"At least we are both terrible, together"

You bit down a smile. You'd have time to loathe yourself and dwell on it. Maybe it was worth being  a terrible person if you could be it in Hongjoong's arms.

"That's so cheesy"