yes, daddy

Wooyoung woke up to a stiff neck. He always slept in strange positions, often resulting in some body pains, but this morning, he truly felt like he had been hit by a truck. Slowly, he arose, stirring over his messy sheets, rubbing his tired eyes awake. His head was pounding from all the drinking the night before. He reached his hand out to the nightstand, relieved to see a half-filled glass of water waiting for him to drink. His hand stopped briefly when he noticed the photo frame sitting right next to it. He frowned. 

It was an old picture of him and San from their first day of high school. San’s eyes were scrunched up as he smiled, his arm hanging over Wooyoung loosely. Wooyoung had the same neutral look he always did, neither smiling nor frowning. He remembered that day. Their moms wanted a photo of them together to mark their big day. San was happy to comply, but Wooyoung was slightly annoyed. He hated taking pictures. 

And there it was. That pinch of regret stirred in his stomach as pieces of last night came into focus. He started to wish he had left himself a bottle of whiskey instead. 

San and Wooyoung had been best friends their entire lives. From elementary school classrooms to dorming at college together, they had been through it all. Everywhere San went, Wooyoung followed. They went to the same university, interned at the same firm, and received similar job offers upon graduation. On the outside, their friendship was admirable. But Wooyoung knew better. Something was rotting between them since the moment they met, something San was too naive to notice.

Wooyoung couldn’t help but feel competitive around San. He had spent his whole life trying to surpass him in every category. When San joined the high school track team, Wooyoung followed and won a silver medal. When San decided he was going to major in finance, Wooyoung double majored in finance and economics. When San got an interview with one of the Big 4 companies, Wooyoung made the recruiter cum on his fingers until she reconsidered his application. And when San got a brand new BMW, Wooyoung got an Audi (used, though he’d never admit that to anyone). 

Wooyoung never wanted to move so far away for college. He never wanted to study finance, nor did he ever picture himself slaving away for a private equity firm. The only thing he’d truly wanted, always, since the very beginning, was whatever San had.

San, who was always so beautiful without trying, so effortlessly charming and kind, and so disarmingly naive, walked through life with this radiant innocence that made people fall in love with him. The elders loved him. Professors adored him. Strangers trusted him. Lovers never forgot him. 

Wooyoung, of course, loved him. He would do anything for San. Even kill for him. But he also resented him. It was a cruel contradiction. How could so much love be wrapped up in bitterness? 

San had everything without trying. And Wooyoung, despite walking beside him every step of the way, always felt like he was falling behind. He could mimic San’s path, but he could never mimic San’s light. He questioned himself a lot about this. Was there a prize at the end of all this? Or was he just hopelessly chasing San’s shadow, ignoring the fact that he would never be as loved as him?

As the two grew into their late 20s, this silent competition of his had dwindled. Wooyoung didn’t care anymore. He didn’t care that San got a promotion or that he got the nice waterfront apartment lease everyone had been bidding on for the past 6 months. It seemed that the childish need to outdo him simply faded away. 

That was, until he met her. 

Y/N. San’s sweet, soft-spoken girlfriend who soon became his fiancée. She was one of the trustee’s daughters, someone San had met at a company party. The young lady had a smile that could stop Wooyoung in his tracks and a laugh that made his heart flutter. He told himself it was just a harmless crush, something fleeting and insignificant. But if he was honest with himself, he wasn’t sure whether he wanted her… Or if he just wanted to win.

Win over San? Win something that truly mattered? Something he wasn’t supposed to have but always wanted?

He tried to ignore the feeling at first. He was good at playing the loyal friend. But she made it harder with every laugh, every look, every accidental brush of her hand against his. Sure, they would flirt a little, as a joke, and sometimes he’d brush his fingers over her thigh during group dinners, but Wooyoung was always flirty with everyone; it didn’t mean anything. It was all just harmless fun. 

But then, his gaze began to linger longer on her than it should have. He’d stare at her glossy lips every time she talked about the wedding, wondering what flavor her lip balm would taste like on his lips. It got to the point where he’d think about her late at night, with his hand reaching down past his waistband, wishing it were her making him feel good. 

He knew it wasn’t all in his head. Sure, there were moments, quiet, almost too quick to notice, when she looked at him the same way he looked at her. Lips parted like she was on the edge of a confession, eyes pleading like she wanted more than a small conversation, as if there was something trapped behind them, something she wanted to say but couldn’t. Something she chose, again and again, to swallow instead.

Wooyoung’s attraction to her had reached a breaking point. It wasn’t a small crush. It was an obsession. It was about power. About proving to himself that he could take what San had and make it his own. Why did San get to have her anyway? He already had the apartment, the shiny new car, and the promotion. What else could he possibly need? The more he looked at them together, with her arms linked with his, lips curling up in soft laughter at his lame jokes, the more it enraged him. It just wasn’t fair. The line between desire and resentment had blurred long ago, and he wasn’t sure how much more of this he could take.

It all came to a head last night, after too many drinks at a friend’s dinner party and too little self-control. The jealousy, the longing, it all bubbled up inside him, and before he knew it, he was in the venue’s supply closet with his hard cock stuffed deep inside the bride-to-be. 

He felt terrible. Not because he betrayed his best friend’s trust, but more so because he didn’t feel bad about it. He could still feel her on him, her soft skin slapping against his, how her shaky moans made his cock twitch inside her, how she kissed him so deeply and passionately as he came. He had never felt something like that before. They just made sense together, and he knew she felt it too. She was perfect in every way, yet she didn’t belong to him. 

Wooyoung grabbed his phone, checking his notifications for any sign of her. But there was nothing. He opened the messenger app and tapped her contact name, staring at a conversation they had three weeks ago that he couldn’t remember. 

Should I say something? He wondered. What would I even say? Are you upset? Do you hate me? Did San find out? Can I see you again?

Just then, a message bubble lit up his screen.

sannie >.<: hey, you still coming over for the game later?

sannie >.<: or is your ass still hungover?

Wooyoung groaned, rolling onto his side.

Right. Tonight was the housewarming. San had turned it into a game night, something casual with beer, snacks, and background noise from the TV, but clearly it was an excuse to show off the apartment he’d spent months putting together piece by piece. The apartment he now shared with her.

His chest tightened. For a moment, he considered saying no. It was Sunday after all. He could blame the hangover or the long work week ahead. He started typing out an apology, promising to come over another time, and hovered his thumb over the send button.

Then it hit him.

She’ll be there.

The thought cut clean through the nausea and the dull ache behind his eyes. He imagined her on that couch, walking barefoot across the floor, laughing at something stupid San said, trying her best to act like nothing had happened the night before. His thumb hesitated. Then he deleted the message.

Wooyoung typed a new reply.

me: yeah, yeah. I’ll be there.

me: give me a few

He stared at the screen after hitting send, his pulse picking up. 

Wooyoung arrived just as the sun was dipping low, the hallway outside San’s apartment already smelling faintly of beer and wings. He paused before knocking, adjusting his jacket and brushing out his hair with his fingers, preparing himself. For a second, he considered turning around. Maybe she’d find him shameless for showing up like this so soon after what happened between them. Maybe he is shameless. 

Suddenly, the door swung open, interrupting his thoughts.

“Woo!” San grinned, already holding a drink. “You made it!”

“Hey!” Wooyoung said easily. From the corner of his eye, he noticed the ring camera installed next to the door. Shit, did he see him playing with his hair?

The apartment was warm and lived-in. Shoes by the door that weren’t San’s. A throw blanket was folded neatly over the couch. Framed photos of people leaning against the wall, some of which he didn’t recognize. 

“Can I get you a drink?” San asked, already settling into his position as a good host. “There’s beer and soda.” 

“I’m good with just water.” 

San disappeared into the pantry. Wooyoung’s eyes caught her immediately. She stood near the kitchen island, pouring drinks, her hair loose, sleeves pushed up her arms. She looked like she belonged here, the missing piece to the apartment that made it whole and complete. When her eyes met his, she froze for half a second too long before resuming with the appetizers. Wooyoung frowned.

San returned to the living room, tossing a water bottle to Wooyoung. “Drinks are there, food’s on the counter, game starts in ten. Mingi and the rest should be here any minute.”

Wooyoung nodded, holding onto the bottle mostly to give his hands something to do. He stayed seated on the couch as San switched the channel. His eyes would drift to the side, curious to see if she was looking at him, but she stayed standing with her back to him, busying herself with snacks.

The TV filled the silence with noise. Loud commercial breaks, fake excitement from the sports commentator. None of them was really watching.

When Mingi, Jongho, and Seonghwa arrived, the apartment grew louder, which helped Wooyoung feel more at ease, like the attention could lay off him for a while. Jokes flew between the boys. Mingi complained about the team lineup. San resumed his role as host effortlessly, moving between rooms, opening bottles, and explaining where things were.

At some point, without anyone acknowledging it, she sat down, close enough that Wooyoung could feel the warmth of her leg burning through the sofa cushion. He so badly wanted to look over at her, see her red cheeks once more, but his eyes remained on the TV, nodding along as the boys talked over the commentator. 

But he couldn’t help it. Eventually, anytime San leaned over to shout at the TV, Wooyoung’s head tilted beside him just to spare a glance at her. He noticed the way she tucked her feet under herself, how her nose whistled with each inhale, the way she laughed quietly at Mingi’s dumb commentary, how she never once dared to even look at him. 

He leaned back, arm stretched along the back of the couch, careful not to touch her, but close enough that she’d notice. His head dipped towards her ear, voice low enough so only she could hear him. 

“You always this tense during games?” 

She stiffened slightly, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m fine.” 

He leaned closer. “Relax. I’m not gonna bite. Not here, at least.” 

For the first time that night, she shot him a look, a warning to stop before someone noticed how weird they were being. Wooyoung thought it was well worth it. 

“Chips are running low,” Jongho pouted at the nearly empty bowl. “Got any more?” 

Suddenly, she rose to her feet, as if she was waiting for an excuse to get away. “In the pantry, I’ll go grab some.” 

“I’ll help, think we need more drinks too,” Wooyoung said instantly, following her lead. 

The pantry was small; there was barely enough space for two people. Wooyoung nudged the door closed behind them, not all the way, but just enough to carve out a pocket of quiet. He waited. She didn’t look at him; instead, she focused on stacking bags of chips in her arms like they required full concentration.

“You can’t just ignore me,” he said softly.

She didn’t miss a beat. “I’m not ignoring you.”

He huffed a quiet laugh. “You didn’t even say hi. Hurt my feelings a little.”

She shrugged and resumed her task.

He grew impatient. “Come on, Y/N. Just talk to me.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

She kept shifting around him, navigating the narrow space with precision, always just out of reach, like he was lava she had to avoid touching. When she brushed past him again, he caught her shoulder.

“About last night—”

She slammed him back against the shelves, her hand flying up to cover his mouth.

“Don’t,” she whispered sharply. “Not here. Not in my house. My fiancé is right outside. Are you insane?”

Right on cue, San’s shout echoed from the living room as their team scored. Wooyoung wrapped his fingers around her wrist and eased her hand away. Her skin was warm and soft. The kind of touch that lodged itself under his ribs.

“I doubt they can hear us,” he murmured.

She exhaled, visibly forcing herself to calm down. “Last night…” Her voice lowered. “It shouldn’t have happened. Everyone kept asking me about the wedding, the cake, the venue, the dress, and I was overwhelmed. San is overwhelming. I was drunk. I was alone. I was scared.”

She stopped and looked at him.

“And you were there,” she said quietly. “You asked if I was okay. I don’t know why I pulled you into that closet.”

Her gaze dropped down to her wrist. She noticed his hand still holding hers and pulled away as if burned, rubbing her knuckles, stepping back.

“I’m marrying San,” she said firmly. “We don’t need to talk about last night ever again. It’s best to forget all about it. For our sake…For San.” She said, her voice shaking. 

For a second, something bitter rose in Wooyoung’s chest. Being something she reached for in a moment of weakness, and then shoved away. It made him feel used. Like loving someone like him was something to be ashamed of. He didn’t know what he was thinking when he stepped into the pantry with her. Maybe he was infatuated with the idea that he could be wanted so badly, against all odds, but he realized now he was only a fool for letting himself chase this fantasy. She needed him to think straight, and he could see it now. Engaging with this further could hurt the two people he loved most in this world. But then again, he remembered her breath hitching. The way she clung to him. How she didn’t hesitate. There was something there, and she was too scared to admit it. 

Her eyes lifted to his, pleading with him.

“Right?” she asked. “Nothing happened?”

Wooyoung swallowed. He had a hundred things he wanted to say. But looking at her, cornered, terrified of her own honesty, he knew saying any of them would shatter her.

He cleared his throat.

“Right,” he said quietly. “Nothing happened.”

The bar was loud. Music thumped through the floors, people cheered at some game playing on the TV, and San and their friends were already half-drunk, laughing about something stupid, but Wooyoung barely heard any of it. He nursed his whiskey at the edge of their table, pretending to be part of the celebration, nodding at the right moments, smiling when he thought he was supposed to.

San dropped into the seat beside him, grinning, cheeks flushed from the alcohol and the attention.

“Woo,” he slung an arm around his shoulder, “Two more days, man. Two days and I’m a married man.”

“Yeah,” Wooyoung forced a smile. “Crazy how fast it’s coming.”

San laughed, not noticing the way Wooyoung’s jaw clenched. “I’m honestly so excited to get it over with, you know? She’s been so stressed these past few days, and it’s been hard seeing her like that, worrying over every little thing. But it’ll all be worth it. You’ll see, she’s gonna look stunning. She had her dress custom-made.” 

Wooyoung nodded stiffly. “Right.” He took another sip of his whiskey, letting it burn down his throat. It had been over a month since he last spoke to her. A month since she stopped answering his messages, stopped reacting, stopped even pretending he existed. Every time his phone buzzed, his chest tightened before dropping again. He hated that he still checked. Hated how badly he wanted even one word from her. And now, he had to play the cheerful, supportive Best Man, and act like everything was okay, like his entire world wasn’t falling apart. 

San nudged him with his elbow. “You good? You haven’t talked much since you came.” 

Wooyoung set his glass down. “Sorry, man. I’m just…” He thought for a moment about what to say that could ease his suspicions. Not that San was a suspicious person to begin with. “It’s just crazy, you know? We were little kids playing tag, and now I’m the best man at your wedding. Time just really flies. It’s a lot to take in.” 

San smiled at him, soft and nostalgic. “Yeah, it’s wild…hey, you never really told me what you thought about her. So tell me. Is she best man approved?” He said with a wink. 

Wooyoung wanted to gouge his own eyes out. “Yeah, she’s great. You’re really lucky,” He said through gritted teeth. 

San beamed. “I really am.” Then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, he added, “And I really want this for you too, you know? One day, you’ll find someone. Someone who drives you crazy enough to marry them.” He chuckled. “Maybe we’ll even have kids at the same time. They can grow up together as we did. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

Something sharp twisted in Wooyoung’s chest. He felt heat crawl up his neck, embarrassment mixing with irritation. He hated the way San said it, so casual and hopeful, like Wooyoung was just…behind. Like he needed reassurance that love would happen to him eventually. Like it hadn’t already happened and been ripped away without explanation.

Did San think he hadn’t tried? That he was incapable of being loved? That this was some missing piece he just hadn’t figured out yet?

His fingers curled around his glass. He swallowed hard and chased the feeling down with another drink. “Yeah,” he muttered, nodding like a good sport. “Maybe.”

San didn’t notice the tension. He never did. Mingi called his name from across the bar, and Seonghwa was already dragging him toward the pool table. San waved back at Wooyoung, shouting something about beer pong as he disappeared into the crowd.

Wooyoung was alone again.

His phone vibrated in his pocket. His heart jumped before he could stop it. He pulled it out too quickly, thumb hovering over the screen, then his face fell. Another useless app notification. Nothing from her.

He opened their message thread anyway. The screen glowed back at him, painfully empty on one side. His texts stacked neatly, unanswered, like proof he didn’t want but kept rereading. He scrolled, even though he already knew how it would end.

San’s laughter rang out somewhere behind him. Wooyoung clenched his jaw.

He chugged the rest of his whiskey, the alcohol doing nothing to stop the irritation buzzing under his skin. Couldn’t she even send one message? Just one? Instead, he was here, listening to people talk about weddings and futures, about finding someone, as if it were that simple. Maybe it was easy for people like San. But he wasn’t San. God, why did he have to fall for someone who wasn’t his?

Before he could talk himself out of it, he stood up, grabbed his jacket, and pushed through the crowd toward the exit.

His thoughts were already racing. He didn’t know what he was going to say to her, or if she’d even open the door. He just knew he couldn’t sit there anymore, pretending he was fine. He needed to know if he was just a moment of weakness or something more.

He was going to see her tonight.

Wooyoung stood in front of San’s flat, swaying slightly, breath fogging up the hallway air. He didn’t remember the cab ride, or leaving the bar, or the last three blocks he must’ve walked. 

His finger jabbed the buzzer again. And again, impatiently waiting for her to open the door. He knew she was home. 

Finally, the door cracked open.

She appeared in the doorway, hair messy from being home all night, eyes widening the second she recognized him. She stepped out into the hall, checking both sides like she expected San to be behind him.

“Wooyoung?” Her voice was soft and startled, as if she had just woken up. “What are you doing here?”

He swallowed hard, staring at her like he’d been underwater for hours and just found air.

“Where’s San?”

“He’s still at the bar with the others,” Wooyoung murmured, eyes never straying from hers. He took a step closer, the hallway light flickering above them. 

“You haven’t answered any of my texts,” he said.

She crossed her arms, trying to look composed. “Well, I’ve been busy. I’m getting married in two days.”

He nodded slowly, drunk but still focused. “Yeah, yeah, the wedding, I’ve heard…you don’t look busy right now.”

She didn’t respond. Wooyoung stepped closer again, enough so that she had to tilt her chin up to look at him.

“Wooyoung…” she warned quietly.

He leaned one hand against the doorframe beside her head, trapping her without touching her. His voice was low, rough from whiskey and need.

“I tried to forget,” he said. “I really did…But I can’t.”

“Wooyoung,” she whispered, “you shouldn’t be here.”

“Why do you keep lying to me?” 

She raised a brow. “What?” 

“What you said that day,” his voice slurred, “that you didn’t know why you pulled me into that closet. That’s not true. There was a reason you pulled me in there with you. Don’t act like you don’t feel it too. When we’re alone together…You trust me. You trust me more than him.” 

Y/n took a step back. “You really can’t do this here.” She warned, but it didn’t faze him. 

“You can marry him if that’s what you want. I’ll watch you do it if I have to.” His voice broke. “Just don’t...don’t stand here and lie to me. Don’t tell me you don’t want me…not when I’ve wanted you this much for so long.”

Her chest rose haphazardly as she stared up at him, dumbfounded. It pained her to say it, but he left her with no choice. 

“Okay, fine! I admit…there was a time when I maybe looked at you as something more…right before San, and I got serious. But Wooyoung, this is crazy. You can’t just show up at my doorstep like this. I’m getting married, and there’s nothing you can do to change that!” 

Wooyoung blinked, her confession hitting him like a heavy blow he wasn’t expecting.

“I don’t want to change anything, y/n,” he whispered.

Before she could react, he dropped to his knees in front of her.

“Wooyoung, get up!” she hissed, glancing nervously toward the stairwell.

He looked up at her with glossy, pleading eyes. “I’m not asking you to leave him. I’m not asking you to choose me. Just…” His voice cracked. “Just give me one chance to show you what this could feel like if you didn’t push it away.”

Wooyoung sat pathetically at her feet, with his deep, sunken eyes gazing up at her. It was strange to see him this way, so vulnerable, so destroyed; his usual confidence and cocky attitude evaporated. Slowly, he leaned forward, pressing his face against her crotch, the warmth of his breath seeping through the fabric of her sleep trousers.

“Wh-what are you doing?” Her voice quivered. She could feel the wrongness of it all. Despite the feeling, her feet remained planted where they were. 

Wooyoung's tongue flicked out, teasingly tracing over the cotton material, and a low, needy whine escaped his lips. He fluttered his eyes up at her, a blend of desperation and raw desire painting his features. "Please," he murmured, voice trembling. "I need it... Need to taste you, your sweet cum on my tongue."

All Wooyoung could feel was warmth. Warmth from her lips, warmth from her bare skin pressed up against his, warmth from being inside her all night. Just as he’d tire out, her legs would tighten around his hips and pull him in closer, encouraging him to keep going until he reached his peak. Then she’d pull his face in and kiss him sloppily until he started thrusting into her again, hips moving more needy and desperate the next time than the last.

“Fuck, Wooyoung!” She gasped, his cock milking out yet another orgasm from her. She had lost count of how many times she’s came like this, sprawled out on her back over the kitchen island while Wooyoung’s cock massaged into her over and over again. “P-please, don’t stop!”

Wooyoung chuckled into her neck, pressing soft kisses to her jaw. “You like my cock that much, baby?” 

She moaned a weak yes, eyes following Wooyoung as he straightened his back and lined himself up with her once again. He rubbed his reddened tip against her swollen, wet cunt, the sudden taps to her clit making her jolt. Her eyes pressed shut, and her head tilted back, a silent plea for more. 

For the first time in a while, she wasn’t thinking about San anymore. Her world, which he had engulfed, the wedding, their family, and their reputation no longer mattered. She felt so good, too good, and all she cared about now was Wooyong’s long, hard dick fucking her dizzy.

“..please..please, harder this time,” she croaked, her voice hoarse from dehydration. “Wanna cum on your cock.” She took his hand off her waist and guided it up to her neck, and Wooyoung immediately grasped around it, adding just enough pressure to make her lightheaded.

Wooyoung grinned. He’d always thought about what she was like during sex, how she liked to be fucked, since their initial encounter had been brief, but he never expected this from her. This classy, sophisticated little corporate princess, who secretly liked getting choked while she got fucked on her kitchen island in her perfect little apartment. He always pictured her and San having boring, vanilla sex, something he was never really interested in. It seemed they both had the same preferences.

He pushed into her once more, snapping his hips hard, just as she requested. He watched her eyes roll back into her head, smirking when a moan caught in her throat, as he gripped her neck tighter. 

“Look how good you take me, you’re so tight…I could have you like this every day, you know?” He said softly. Before she could react, his hand left her neck, and he dragged his fingers down between her breasts, over her stomach, to finally her wet center. His thumb toyed with her puffy clit, forcing her to arch her back. 

“Woo…don’t stop…I’m so close.” She huffed, her breathing growing more erratic the more he touched her. 

His thumb tugged her clit around in hard circles. He could feel her walls tighten around him, pulling him in more. “Cum, baby, I wanna feel you let go on me.” 

Sweat clung to her forehead, and strands of hair stuck to her damp skin. Her lips were parted as she caught her breath, chest rising and falling unevenly. There was a flushed warmth to her face that made her look almost feverish, worn out in the most beautiful way.

Wooyoung watched her for a moment, the sight pulling a quiet smile from him.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured.

He leaned down and pressed a quick, soft kiss to her lips, but she didn’t let him pull away. Her hand slid behind his head, fingers curling into his hair as she drew him back in. This time, the kiss lingered, deepening slowly as if neither of them was ready to part.

They shifted together on top of the island, bumping lightly against its edge as they moved, laughing between kisses. Their hands roamed each other’s bodies, holding onto each other like they had all the time in the world. Wooyoung was so happy in this moment.

Eventually, Wooyoung broke the kiss, his lips drifting from her mouth to her jaw, then lower. He left a slow trail of warm kisses across her collarbone and down her chest, taking his time until he reached the curve of her hip, where he paused for a moment, lingering there as his hand traced gently along her side.

“Woo,” She called. 

“I’m right here,” He spoke softly. “I want to taste you.” 

She pulled herself upright, staring down longingly at him as he brushed his lips against her inner thigh. She combed her fingers through his blonde hair, breath hitching once she felt the warmth of his mouth. His tongue separated her folds, and he explored her soft center with a groan. 

“You’re so sweet,” he cooed, lapping at her wet, silky juices. It felt like a fitting reward, finally getting to taste the fruits of his labor. “I could spend all day between your thighs like this, if you’d let me.” As he sucked on her clit, he let her hold onto his hand tightly, helping to ground her.

The way he spoke to her made her feel butterflies in her stomach. She wanted to say that she’d like that, but the way his tongue danced around her sensitive clit made her a babbling mess, and instead, all she could think about was cumming on his hot tongue. 

Wooyoung loved the sound of her soft moans. They had always gone straight to his head, making everything else fade away. That was why he noticed the moment they stopped. The change was immediate, like someone had cut the sound from a speaker.

Her hand slipped out of his at the same time.

“Why’d you stop—”

He lifted his head, expecting to see her looking down at him with that same dazed expression she’d had moments ago, eyes half-lidded, lips parted. Instead, her entire body had gone rigid. Her gaze wasn’t on him anymore. It was fixed on something in front of her.

Slowly, Wooyoung followed the direction of her eyes. The moment he saw him, something deep in his stomach dropped.

San stood in the doorway.

For a second, Wooyoung didn’t even recognize him. San’s face, usually so open, so bright, looked…wrong. Twisted with something unfamiliar on him. It was a mix of terror, disgust, and disbelief. And underneath all of it, something far worse.

Disappointment.

Their eyes met. Wooyoung froze. His mind went completely blank, like someone had wiped every thought from his head. He couldn’t move nor speak. He could hardly breathe.

San’s eyes lingered on him, taking in the sight of his fiancée’s cum smeared all over his best friend's lips.

Wooyoung’s heart started pounding in his ears. He waited for the explosion. For San to storm across the room and drag him up by the collar and punch him, scream at him. To call him every name he deserved. But San didn’t move. He just stood there, staring at him. And somehow that was worse. The look in his eyes didn’t hold any real anger. It held hurt. The kind of hurt that ran too deep for shouting.

San’s gaze shifted slowly from Wooyoung to his fiancée. Then back at him again. Like he was trying to make sense of something that didn’t make sense at all. Like he was asking himself if this was real, if his best friend could really betray him like this.

Fifteen years of friendship. And this was the moment it ended. San looked at them one last time before turning around and walking back out the door.

The quiet that followed was deafening. Y/N scrambled to pull her clothes back on, hands shaking as she cursed under her breath. A moment later, she rushed out after him, the door slamming behind her.

Wooyoung didn’t move. He was still on his knees, staring at the empty doorway like his brain hadn’t caught up to what had just happened.

His entire world had just detonated in front of him. San’s face kept flashing through his mind. That expression. The one he had never seen before, never in fifteen years. Not through the fights, breakups, stupid drunken arguments, or any of the messes they’d gotten into growing up.

Wooyoung had seen San angry before. But never like this. And the worst part was knowing he had put that look on his face.

Memories of their friendship started crashing into him one after another. San waiting for him outside their school when they were kids. San dragging him out for late-night ramen in college. San laughing so hard at his dumb jokes that he could barely breathe. San patting him on the shoulder earlier that night, talking about their kids growing up together as they had.

He had shattered the only real, meaningful connection he had in this life. All over his frail ego.

Wooyoung dragged a hand down his face, his stomach twisting in knots.

God. What have I done?

You had seen him plenty of times through your own window. You had seen him way too many times, out of the shower with nothing but a towel around his waist as droplets of water rolled down his toned body. His hair stuck to his forehead as walked out of sight, probably to get dressed You’d hate to say you drooled but honestly you might’ve. You start to wonder how many times had he seen you like that at the edge of your bed. Just once? Twice? How could you not feel his gaze on you?

With what in between your legs? Your new vibrator? Your hands? The pillow you liked to fold and pretend it was his thigh you were grinding on? Oh, you were spiraling. Hopefully he couldn’t read lips if he had seen you finish before. If he could, it was over, you were throwing yourself off the highest building on campus. You always moaned his name once you reached the edge.

“Seen it?” He finished for you, scratching the nape of his neck as he avoided your eyes, a light blush appearing on his cheeks.

It was silent between the two of you. All the other study rooms just had to be taken that day and he just had to ask to share the room with you, didn’t he? He really had to bring it up now, in the middle of you actually being productive?

You started to feel suffocated the longer you sat across from him at that table. You both avoid looking at each other, only a few seconds felt like hours. You started to pack up your things and put them back in your bag.

“I’m sorry.” You apologized to him once more before leaving in a rush.

He tried to call out for you before you left but you were gone before anything made it out.

You knew you liked the idea of being watched by him, however actually knowing he saw and even telling you to close your blinds humiliated you. You felt so embarrassed about the encounter but why were also so turned on by it? You felt hot all over but especially at your core. Your panties stuck to arousal rather uncomfortably as you walked back to your room.

If you were truly so humiliated, why were you at the edge of your bed, the only part that could be seen from the window, one hand between your legs as the other gripped the sheets beside you. Why were you still imagining it was his hand rubbing at your bud just the way you like before venturing down further between your folds? You lolled your head back a bit with a sigh as your fingers entered you giving the illusion of being full of him. Your heart jumped and you looked up to see his room empty like moments before.

Surely he wouldn’t be back for awhile so you had time to enjoy yourself… Half-lidded, you gazed into his tidy room. It’s not like you never noticed how his bed faced your window anyway. Imagining him sitting there, back against his pillows as he faced you encouraged your inappropriate behavior and thoughts even more. Him slipping his pants off before palming himself through his boxers. It’d become to little for him and soon enough he’d take himself in one of his hands before slowly stroking himself, slowly from the base up as he let out small gasps for air and light moans.

You weren’t far off from that thought. If you were aware, you’d know his tricks, you’d know he’d been there almost every time you please yourself right there to the thought of him. He learned to use his Evol to manipulate the light to make it look like he wasn’t there to you. After all, your sight was based on how light refracted, it was easy to make an illusion and be invisible…

Sometimes he felt like his bed wasn’t close enough, that he was close enough as he observed the way you touched yourself so teasingly, or the way you thrusted your toy into yourself to lose it, or the way you desperately humped your pillow for a release, gripping at the sheets beneath you. He’d always feel sore after you made yourself cum multiple times. It happened so often but knowing you were there, naked and pleasing yourself got him painfully hard no matter how tired he may be. He couldn’t just ignore it, he needed to act like he was there with you. He couldn’t help it… It didn’t matter if he was sensitive, almost to the point of crying, it didn’t matter how messy his bed sheets became from his own release, he just needed to feel as close to you as possible.

He hated that he couldn’t just be normal and pursue you and instead was acting like some sex-deprived addict. He was too shy, you didn’t ever really talked to him for more then what was needed for classes and you both were in very different circles. You would often ditch your work and go to clubs on the weekends with your friends. He’d see you stumble into your room, late and drunk but you never brought anyone home and you never went missing those nights. Deep down, he liked the fact that no one else saw you in such a vulnerable state. Often, you’d ask for his notes since he and his best friend, Jeremiah were some of the top students. He always helped you out because he liked you even before you were unintentionally giving him something to watch. He assumed you were using him to your own benefit and he didn’t care. Though, he thought about you using him in a different way as well. He thought he was just someone you used for notes and help with assignments.

That was until one day, you were there across the way like you were on display for him. His window was slightly open due to heat that day and so was yours. He leaned up against the wall near the window, his hand wrapped around his length as he stroked himself to best match the pace of the way you bucked your hips at the vibrator that stimulated your clit. He bit his lip to hold back a moan. He could hear your own noises become more frequent and higher, you were getting close. Though he didn’t expect a whiny chant of his name to leave your mouth as you shook from your orgasm.

The sound of you moaning his name went straight to his cock, his mind became even more clouded with lust as his grip on himself became tighter as the strokes became faster and shorter. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen so much cum come out of him at one time but here he was, hand and length now covered in the white, thick substance that dripped onto the floor as he grunted your name under his breath.

He felt guilty and dirty about what he had been doing just to catch you in a vulnerable but beautiful poistion that knocked off all his senses as he'd lose himself in chunks of time for you. Knowing it was him you thought of at those times provided much needed relief in more than one way.

So you did think about him more than just someone to get notes from?

That's why he confronted you in the library but it greatly backfired on him. Seeing you rush off made him angry with himself and he ended up just teleporting back to his room in defeat. Yet you walked in, the illusion went up almost instinctively, knowing you probably wouldn’t want to see him after what happened. But as soon as the door closed behind you, your book bag was discarded on the floor. Your pants came off rather quickly it made his head spin. You were there, in your underwear, your fingers rubbed over the soaked cloth. He could tell little moans left your lips by the way they parted and the way your eyes rolled back slightly.

Oh? Did you get off on knowing he caught you? Something about that made him smirk a little too hard to himself…

However, that didn’t change how you avoided him like the plague in public. He couldn’t even approach you before you made a run for it. Yet, he’d always find you in your room, in your spot and he could tell whenever you finished by the way your lips moved, his name was on your tongue and he was on your mind.

Then that one fateful day in class came when you needed partners for a project and despite the class size, somehow you and him were left alone in the sea of people. You couldn’t run when he made his way over to you this time.

”I guess we’re partners.” Xavier laughed, trying to lighten the mood.

“I guess we are.” You responded, softly.

It still remained rather tense between the both of you. He wanted to apologize for saying what he did but it might make you act worse around him which was the last thing he needed when his grade depended on your collaboration. You never closed the blinds though… Maybe because you thought he wasn’t there… But what about the others that could easily look into your room? Thinking about anyone else seeing you like that made him feel uncharacteristically mad. Why should he be mad? You weren’t even friends yet he wanted you all to himself.

He asked to come over to your dorm as he still shared his with Jeremiah even though he was out at most times. Your roommate left early in the semester though so you got a room all to yourself… You said yes but you hesitated. You thought about the library but then you remembered what happened last time so maybe he was trying to be considerate.

You heard a knock on your door, which has you throw your phone on your bed as you get up. You opened it to let Xavier into your room. It was filled with warm, inviting light with dimly lit corners.

“You can sit there, I’ll get us some drinks or something.” You point to your bed.

Silence as he stared at where you pointed. You realized it was that spot he’s probably caught you. You blush as you try to recover.

”Um, nevermind. On the rug is probably better for all the space we’ll need for… stuff.” You said as you walked passed him and avoided his eyes.

He sat down on the carpet and took out all the needed textbooks and paper as you went to your mini fridge to grab those drinks you mentioned. You needed it especially considering how dry your throat was. You tried to pay attention to him but you felt so guilty whenever you looked at him… It was a constant reminder of the things you had done only mere feet away from where you sat with him with the image of him in your head as called out his name only for yourself to hear.

His long eyelashes were beautiful as he look down at the book in front of you and read something you couldn’t hear. It’s not like you hadn’t seen that image crafted in your own mind dozens of times expect the only difference is he was between your legs kissing up your thigh. He’d look up at you, almost pleadingly as his hands rubbed your thighs before you’d feel his lips trail light kisses on your sensitive skin. Unknowingly, you were blushing while looking at him.

”Are you okay?” He asked, showing genuine concern which brought you out of your own thoughts.

”I just have a bit of a headache.” You lied. “Maybe we could do this tomorrow? I’m sorry… I haven’t really been able to focus properly.”

”Yeah, of course. I’ll see you tomorrow then… Feel better, okay? Let me know if you need to reschedule if you’re not feeling well tomorrow either.”

He packed up his things rather quickly and left in the same manner. You threw yourself on your bed, feeling as if the room became 20 degrees cooler and like you could breathe properly again. Something made your flutter about him being concerned about you and truthfully you missed him… You just wish you could get over what he said but again it’s not like you knew what he thought… You probably didn’t want to know, he wouldn’t have told you to close the blinds if he was enjoying what he was seeing.

You couldn’t sleep that night… You saw him in his room as soon as he left your own. You’d glance across to see him every now and again. You’d see him move to his desk, or sometimes his bed for a quick nap before he got back to work. However, that own image in your mind wouldn’t leave and you could feel it bothering you. Why couldn’t he just go to sleep for the night? Why couldn’t he just leave? Why did you have the sick need to look into his window whenever you pleased yourself? Was if you trying to be as close as possible in that moment? Why couldn’t you sit back on your headboard or close your blinds like you use to before your crush on him developed or like a regular person.

Part of you felt a sense of relief when you saw him in bed with his familiar sleep attire. The moonlight came down to illuminate your room and if anyone was awake and looking, they would’ve seen the way your pajama pants slipped down to hit the floor. You decided the pillow for tonight after what you had been thinking about for hours.

You thought about the way that study session could’ve gone if only you had been brave enough. You could’ve kissed his pink lips, they were probably soft and most definitely warm. You always imagined he’d be gentle, maybe hesitate judging by how quiet he was. You imagined him falling apart under you as you kissed down his neck and grind down on his jean cladded thigh as he grips onto your waist and lets out sharp breaths.

Your eyes fluttered open to look at him. You were shocked to find his knitted sweater was off, his pants resting on his thighs and one of his hands wrapped around himself. You could see his chest heave as he stroked himself, slightly bucking up into his hand. His eyes were closed but it was clear he was awake.

You felt butterflies in your gut at the sight before you as you sighed out, pleased. You felt yourself become even more turned on as you clenched around nothing. You bit your tongue between your teeth which could be seen between your parted lips. You saw his eyes open, shining despite how dimly lit his room was. He swears the veil was down by the way your eyes met. He groaned out as he squeezed himself tighter and picked up his pace.

You were lost at the view, trying to match his flow. The way he’d speed up and then so down felt so torturously good on your bud as you looked at him through the window. The light in your own eyes were gone in that moment, replaced by pure lust that Xavier could tell even from where he sat as you looked into his room. He wondered what you were thinking of him that time to please yourself with. Somehow he thinks you two are in sync with each other the way you grinded against your pillow match his thrust. He thinks he got harder at that thought.

The way your eyes rolled back whenever your grinds hit the right spot on your nerves to send electricity up your body drive him crazy. The way you gripped at your bed tighter as you got closer to your own release… He doesn’t think he’ll last until you finish by the way he starts fucking his hand, imagining it’s you.

Unaware, you match it but seeing him so desperate to cum had you biting your lip as you try not to whimper out too loudly. He sees you, feverishly humping your pillow and biting back your sound as you look… so out of it. He’s losing it that that’s what you look like at just the thought of him and he wonders what he could make you look like if he just teleports in your room right now… But it’s too late he’s moaning as you see ropes of thick, white cum dress his toned stomach, drip down his hands and you can’t help but cry out loud as a familiar wave of pleasure washes over you. You shake as you fold forward, pathetically dragging your hips to satiate anything left over from your high.

You stay there for a few moments, catching your breath. When you get up, he’s still there, eyes closed as he gasps out. His cum covered cock still in his hand as it slowly softens. The messy aftermath was enough to have you going again… But after today, you don’t think it could ever be the same if it wasn’t him. You threw the pillow on the floor and went to the bathroom.

When you came back, he was sleeping under his sheets. Probably a good thing you didn’t go again because his roommate had just got home for the night. For once, you found yourself closing your blinds. Something, Xavier was shocked to see in the morning and wondering what he was missing out on.

Suddenly, the blinds came up to reveal you in your white tank top and loose pajamas pants that rested on hips standing over your desk. You realized he was there, staring at you. You smiled and waved at him and hesitantly he did the same back. One part of his hair was higher up than the other and he still seemed rather sleepy and out of it. You giggled at it before you walked away from the window which left him confused.

Like clockwork, he came over to your dorm. He went straight to work on the project you had due. You didn’t even remember what it was or what class it was for. You frowned as he just walked passed you, was he not going to talk about what occurred last night? Worse, did he just want to forget it? You found yourself spiraling once more because of Xavier which you hated.

You sat across from him on the floor, almost waiting for him to put down the book and actually reference what happened. How can he just ignored you both watch each other masturbate through your windows? Despite it all, you felt that guilt of what you did to the thought of him even though he did the same with you it seems. Oh no, was it someone else on his mind or rather were you just there?

”Can we talk?” You asked.

”About the protocores?” He hummed. “I mean-“

”No, Xavier.” You sighed, as you took the book out of his hand to close it. “About what happened last night.”

”Last night?”

”Yes.”

”When you were sick?”

”No, after that…”

“I’m lost here.”

You found yourself to embarrass to say it. For someone so dirty, you were also so timid about the actual topic… You searched for the least vulgar way to say it aloud.

”You know…” You started. “When I… and then you…”

He gave you puzzled look and you began to feel frustrated at his obliviousness. It’s like he was trying to get you to say it.

”You were touching yourself when you saw me and then we…” You couldn’t even bring yourself to finish your statement.

You bit your finger as you blushed and avoided his icy, blue eyes that were suddenly very wide.

”That wasn’t a dream?” He questioned, more to himself than you.

He wasn’t acting dumb, he actually was clueless about what occurred.

“Oh my god.” You muttered, your head in your hands.

You were more mortified than before when he told you to close your blinds. If you had known he thought it was a dream, you wouldn’t have said anything.

“I-I’m sorry.” He uttered out like it was all he could say.

“Is that why you told me to close the blinds?” You sighed. “You were having dreams of me?”

”No, I didn’t tell you to close the blinds.” He shook his head. “I told you to close them if you didn’t want people to see.”

”So, you liked watching me?”

“Um…”

He had a reoccurring habit of when he was embarrassed he’d avoid one’s eyes. He’d also scratch the back of his neck. You found it cute. You didn’t need his answer, you knew it by the way he was acting. You wanted to hear it. You found yourself on your knees crawling forward, leaving a very small distance between the two of you.

“It’s a yes or no question.” You said.

”Yes.” He admitted to it, guilt obvious in his voice as he still avoided eye contact.

“How many times?” You asked, one hand reached up to brush strands of his light blonde hair to the side.

“Huh?”

“How many times did touch yourself after seeing me?”

Too many times he couldn’t even count.

”I-I don’t know.”

“That many?”

The blush on his cheek became more obvious, making you smile, mischievously. You wrapped an arm rest on his broad shoulder as you brought a hand to his chin to have him look at you. Something in his eyes looked so helpless in the moment.

“It’s okay… I like it.” You whispered in his ear before you stroked his cheek. “You look so cute last night. All messy and pathetic because of me… If you had told me sooner, just think about how wouldn’t have had to imagine your hand as me.”

He grabbed your hand abruptly at your words and suddenly you felt his lips against your own. You found yourself sighing into his kiss. You were right, they were soft, most definitely warm and oddly gentle for just taunting and humiliating him. But it was so needy as you he grabbed and dragged you into his lap. You found his leg in between your own, almost like he knew he sat you down on his thigh. One hand rested on your waist while the other held the back of your neck in an effort to deepen the kiss as his teeth brushed against your lips. His hand moved lower to support your neck as he trailed down your neck that had you sighing out.

Desperate for any friction, you feel yourself start to grind on his thigh. The thin fabric of your shorts mixed well with the rough material of his jeans. Your breaths boarded on moans and he felt himself losing it more by the moment as he flexed his thigh and raised it more so you could grind even harder on him. Rocking back and worth, your moans came out breathy and whiny. He loved whenever you left your window open because he could hear you but something about hearing you right in his ear made him painfully hard against the restraint of his jeans.

“Is this what you thought about last night with the pillow between your thighs?” He breathed into your neck.

”Shut up.” You whined, hating that he somehow knew what you fantaized about.

“So, you can do it to me but I can’t do it to you?” He tsked. “Cruel.”

Your hand reached down, palming the bulge in jeans that had him groan quietly as his head nuzzled into your neck. You couldn’t help but add pressure as you rubbed over which had him moaning at every moment as he fell powerless to you once more.

“On the bed. Now.” You ordered, lowly.

He rather obedient as he sat down on the bed, in your spot like you told him. There you were in front of him, on your knees looking up at him. The sight made his breath hitch in his throat as he just stared at you.

”You’ve never had one before, have you?”

He shook his head and a wicked smile could be seen on your face. Your hands flew to his belt to unbuckle it. You yank at his pants and boxers, instinctively he lifts up his hips so you can pull them down his legs. You didn’t waste time staring at his length as find yourself getting comfortable between his thighs as you lick the underside of his cock, slowly from the base to the tip which had him shivering in pleasure already as his hand found it’s way into your hair before he bought it back to his side.

Your tongue swirls around his tip which has him cursing under his breath. He didn’t expect you to take all of him at once so quickly which lead him utter out a mix of soft grunts and loud, shameless moans that no doubt your neighbors hear which you couldn’t seem to care about right now. You could just listen to him like this and you’d be happy you’d think, you wanted to keep being the reason behind his noises of pleasure…. His soft voice was always like an angel, so sweet and gentle… So contradictory to how he was acting now.

You could feel him twitch in your mouth. It was so warm and wet and nothing has ever felt so good before. His hand couldn’t compare. He softly moans every time your head bobs up and down, the sounds of your mouth making everything so much more lewd as he threw his head back. You could feel him tense under your hands and he whined as the cold air hit his spit covered length. You now stood in front of him, precum dripping down the side of your mouth. He looked at you through half lidded eyes, it like he didn’t care that you stopped as he pulled you into his lap. One arm wrapped around your waist and his other hand sneaked passed the waistband of your soaked panties as he kissed you. The taste of him still on your tongue which he didn’t seem to mind as he swallows your moans from the movements of his fingers on your clit. The circular motion felt rather familiar to you but sent jolts of pleasure throughout your body. You grabbed at his hair which has him groaning in your mouth. A string of salvia connect your lips to one another as you pulled away both disheveled.

”Can I asked why you stopped?” He asked.

”I don’t want you to cum just yet.” You chuckled, bitterly. “It feels better that way. You must know that by last night.”

”Oh…” He hummed. “I guess I do…”

”Is something wrong, baby?”

That pet name shouldn’t have made him even more horny but it did. He was shy and quiet all over again.

”It’s more than just a blow job I haven’t had.” He sighed. “I never done anything like this before…”

You were shocked, mostly because by everything you heard most men, even the experienced ones never know how to make their partners feel good. Yet, it was like Xavier was a natural but him being inexperienced made you feel better about your own lack of experience.

You smiled, this time much sweeter at him as you brought his chin up so your lips could meet once more. It was light and soft before they were gone too quick for the boy’s liking.

”We’re the same.” You said, softly.

An unexpected twinkle appeared in his eyes as he looked up at you. You now lied on the bed, him at your side as you now felt long, slender fingers fill you which you whined at. He couldn’t help it, maybe it was joy that you’d be his in every way possible but maybe it was the need to give you a memorable night as his fingers began to speed up. The noise of your walls trying to suck him back in could be heard as well as the sound of the lewd wetness of it. You cried out as his fingers curled inside. He was reaching spots you always so desperately tried to but couldn’t to no avail and suddenly, it stopped. You looked at him rather pleadingly but then you understood what he wanted.

Switching place, you found yourself on top, now both naked the feeling of vulnerability was more intense. You took him in your hand, running him up and down your folds. He softly groaned as you sunk down on him slowly. His hands rested on your hips. It didn’t hurt, only because you were way too familiar with the toy that now uselessly laid in the draw of your nightstand but it did feel different. It was so much more fulfilling to have him inside you than anything else. Using your hands on his chest as leverage you pull yourself up and started to bounce on him.

His fingers dug into your sides as he moaned for you. The way you squeeze around him made him feel hazy and he doesn’t think he could ever go back to the way it was before. Your breasts bounced with every movement you made on him and he was going crazy with no idea what to do exactly but try to bring you back down to him as soon as you felt too far from him. Your pace just felt too slow and teasing for him. He can't lie though, the view was so pretty…

But you felt him gone within the matter of seconds. The emptiness was disturbing between your legs and you whimpered at the lose. He now sat at the edge of the bed and he pulled you into his lap. This time, he was able to pay attention to the way you took him. You moaned as he filled you up once more and you realized you had gotten so comfortable with the view into Xavier’s room and now he’s actually here and you can’t even see all of him like you wanted. You felt him so deeply in you though, that feeling was enough.

His forehead rested against your shoulder as he slowly thrusted up into. The snap of his hips against your own had you gasping each time. He picked up his pace as he sucked at the skin of your neck. Why were you still focused across the way? He was there with you now like you wanted for months at this point. You were expecting something however it wasn’t his roommate walking into his room while it was very obvious what you two were doing. You yelped and Xavier took notice quickly at was going on by the way you tensed around him.

The illusion went up, like a second nature in him. He wasn’t too sure after the other night though. Judging by the way Jeremiah hadn’t looked in your direction without visibly blushing, it was safe to say you two were safe. You clenched around Xavier who was frozen. He wrapped his arms around your waist as his thrusts into you became more frequent which resulted in crying out.

”B-But Jeremiah!” You tried to point out without moaning.

”He can’t see us, darling.” He told you as he kissed you neck reassuringly.

”How do you know?” You breathed for a moment as his hips ceased.

”It’s a trick I learned for you.” He confessed, nuzzling his nose in your neck. “I saw you touch yourself too many times to count. The seconds, the minutes… I was there for basically all of them. For every second of the ones I did get the privilege to witness. I couldn’t have you see me though… But I’m starting to think it’s what you wanted because it didn’t matter what I said you still put yourself on display for me to see. I’m sure you’d like him to see too, hmm?”

”No!” You yelled, your hands flying to hold his as his thrusts became more brutal and somehow reach deeper. “O-Only you, it was only for you…”

It was embarrassing to admit. Maybe it should’ve been a concern that he went out of his way to watch you like that but something about was also so hot to you… He put up a facade just so he could see you continue… Probably because he never knew it was his name you were moaning. It was all so much for you. Before his roommate made an appearance he was being gentle, allowing you to enjoy every inch of him but now it was almost like a animal with how persistent he was. You did like it but it was so different and every low grunt of his you felt against you skin sent chills down your body. Was something in this rooted in jealousy? Is that why he suggested you close your blinds? Because he was the only one that wanted to see you like that? You found the idea endearing because deep down it was only for him. It was always only him.

He can feel you clench around him, begging for more and in a blind of an eye, you were in front of your window with him still inside of you. His hands pinned your own on the window, the cool glass met your breasts and you couldn’t even imagine what you’d look like if you could be seen.

His pace was relentlessly as he fucked into you from behind which was such a difference between the light love bites he left on your skin. One of his hands loosened its grip on your own to snake down your body to the bud between your legs. His fingertips rubbing those electrifying patterns into the most sensitive area on your body. It hit you. He knew those patterns from watching you all those times, he knew what you liked and what to do because he observed what you did to yourself and maybe it was the hormones but it did something to you.

You could feel yourself getting close as you begin to whine more while also trying to hold back. But you couldn’t and his fingers speed up which led to your moans being more frequent before you screamed out a string of his name mixed with curses. Your body trembled as he now held you on his arms, his thrusts into you becoming more erratic before you felt him pull out. Those ribbons of hot cum hit your back as he moans out your name.

Pants and heavy breathing filled the silent room. You were barely able to stand anymore with the weight of your orgasm now gone. He held you to his chest for a moment, allowing you to fully come down before he took you into your bathroom. He turned on the shower for you two and you both washed up, helping each other. Oddly enough, just seeing each other naked and washing each other was much scarier than sex. Maybe it was more intimate because it went to another layer of vulnerability that was new to you. He helped you dried your hair and you did his as you changed into new clothes and he found himself back in his boxers.

”Can I stay with you tonight?” Xavier asked.

He was only a two minute walk away from his own room. At the same time, you loved the fact that he wanted to be with you longer.

”Of course.” You nodded.

You feel a different type of tension replaced the previous one. Now you lay across from each other on your rather small bed, just staring at each other. You found a comfort in his warm body next to you bed, like he had been missing this whole time.

“I’m sorry about all the stuff I said… and have done.” He awkwardly brought up. “I don’t know why I did…”

”Don’t be.” You shook your head. “Like I said at beginning, I like that stuff.”

“I like you a lot though.” He said. “I don’t want you to think it’s just me being hormonal. I mean you do make me more hormonal but-“

”Xavier, shut up. I like you, too. Don’t be so awkward about it.”

He leaned over to leave a peck on your lips as a sort of thankful gesture. Blush dusted both of your cheeks.

“Can I take you out on a date?” He questioned.

You were going to say something snarky but you realized you’d just ruin the moment. The very moment that Xavier probably struggled with due to his shyness considering how awkward he’s been since he asked to stay.

”I’d love that.”

You should have bet the money. Hoodie on his upper half, baggy jeans on his lower and tucked into the boots on his feet, Wooyoung has Kyungmin tucked into his chest, one arm around his back, the other cradling the back of his head. He stops twirling, smile staying as he catches your eye at the top of the steps, taking a second before softly placing Kyungmin back on the floor. 

“You’re late,” your voice comes out clipped, one hand still wrapped around the handle of your suitcase. 

He runs a hand through his long, black hair, “There was traffic.”

“I have a flight to catch,” you bite back.

His head tilts, smile deepening to a smirk, “And who’s driving you to the airport?”

“An asshole,” you mumble under your breath, hiking your bags higher over your shoulders, free hand reaching for the railing to keep you balanced before you start for the stairs. 

“Here,” he springs into action, taking it two stairs at a time, taking your luggage from your hand before you can get a word out. “I got it.”

“I had it,” you argue, looking down at him, he just smiles.

“I know very well how capable you are, wifey.”

You smack your teeth, huffing down the rest of the stairs, “How many times do I have to tell you to stop calling me that?”

“Come on,” he sings, “it’s funny. Wanna open the trunk for me, Kyungminnie?”

“Yes!” Your eight year old shouts, hauling ass out of your front door and sprinting down the lawn to your driveway. Looking at Wooyoung again, it dawns on you like it always does how much the two look alike, especially as your son gets older. 

“You’re seriously not going?” You ask Wooyoung as you close your front door behind you, locking it with the silver key on your split ring. 

He calls over his shoulder as he rolls your suitcase down your driveway, “Unless they call me in, no.”

A conference for your job, two states over. You and Wooyoung have always been employed in the same line of work, opposing companies, but essentially the same job. It’s how you met in the first place, fifteen years ago, when you were both fresh out of college and ready to enter the workforce. The conference was held annually, usually you and Wooyoung would travel together, before you divorced him. 

You hum, storing the information. You whole-heartedly think he was asked to go already, especially since all of your coworkers have already told you the higher-ups in his company were attending, the higher-ups included his name on the list. He must not be going to spare you, and in a way, you’re grateful for it. 

Opening the backseat of his SUV, you throw your carry-on inside, brow quirking at the sight of his bare backseat. “Where’s Kyungie’s booster seat?” You ask over the seats to Wooyoung who’s throwing your suitcase in the trunk. 

“Let me press the button!” Kyungmin shouts, and Wooyoung gruffs a strangled noise as he picks your son up by his waist, lifting him high enough so he can press the button to close the trunk. 

“He’s big as shit, he doesn’t need one anymore,” Wooyoung says casually after putting him back on the ground.

“Bullshit.” Kyungmin is tall as shit for his age. “He’s only eight!”

Wooyoung opens the door on the other side of the backseat, leaning over Kyungmin after he crawls inside to click his seatbelt into place. “Have you read up on it?”

Not recently. 

“He can sit all the way back, bend his knees over the edge, the lap belt is across his hips, the shoulder belt is on his shoulder,” he eyes you from the other side of the car, hand on the car door. “He’s fine.”

“Why didn’t you tell me daddy lets you ride without a booster seat?” You ask Kyungmin, ignoring how Wooyoung clearly did his research. 

Kyungmin smiles and it’s the exact fucking replica of Wooyoung’s sly grin, “You would be mad and then I can’t be big anymore.”

You sigh, tucking your carry-on in once more before closing the car door. Climbing into the passenger seat, your voice is laced with irritation, “There are some things you should discuss with me, y’know.”

“You research everything,” Wooyoung pushes the button beside the steering wheel and the engine roars to life, “my bad for assuming you’d research car safety, too.”

Cheeks hot, you cross your arms, settling into the comfortable seat of his SUV. He had you there. 

It’s a thirty minute drive to the airport, spent listening to soft rock through the speakers, Kyungmin humming along in the backseat to songs you had no idea he knew. So much changes in a year, your son growing like a weed, building a different relationship with his father you weren’t there to supervise. You didn’t need to, you knew that, their time together was theirs, but it’s been a minute since the three of you were together for an extended period of time, outside of pick-ups and drop-offs. 

Pulling up outside the airport, while Wooyoung unpacks your luggage and your carry-on, you’re halfway into the backseat saying your goodbyes to your son. Tears prickling your lashes, it’s always hard to leave him, even if the conference was only for the weekend. 

You close the door and meet Wooyoung on the other side of the SUV, wiping the tears from your eyes, “Call me if anything happens.”

“Nothing’s gonna happen,” he takes the carry-on from his own shoulder and slips it onto yours with care. “Text me when you land, I’ll call you after he showers so you can say goodnight.”

“Thanks again for driving me,” you give him a tight-lipped smile, “I’m sorry, my dad was busy–”

Wooyoung cuts you off by shaking his head, his smile warm, “Go have a drink before your flight, sleep on the plane. Don’t apologize for something I was happy to do.”

“Okay,” you whisper, meeting his eye, “Thanks, Woo.”

“Have fun for me, wifey. Tell Mingi and Seonghwa I say hello.”

Rolling your eyes, you snort as you turn on your heel, “Tell them yourself!”

You always forget how big this conference is until you’re here again. 

Mingi and Seonghwa on either side of you like pillars, you enter the foyer space, the hotel decked out in red and gold detailing, fancy. Men in suits, women in pantsuits, everyone looked about the same, in different fonts. All here for networking until the schedule begins, splitting off into the theater rooms for speakers, boardrooms for workshops, or sneaking off to the hotel bar to ease the chip of performance off their shoulders. 

“Wooyoung’s really not coming?” Mingi asks, gray two-piece suit clinging to his body, buff and broad but slim. 

Seonghwa, Mingi’s smaller, shorter half, adds, “I thought he was guest speaking this year.”

Your brows raise, news to you. Mingi shakes his head, blonde hair gelled back not moving an inch, “I heard he gave it to Choi San.”

“He wouldn’t do that,” you argue, approaching closer to the check-in table. “That would give San the upper hand, he wouldn’t let him have it even if it killed him.”

Greeting the red-haired woman at the table, you tell her the three of your names, and she hands you all lanyards with a tri-fold paper schedule. You thank her, and as you split off towards the theater room, Seonghwa continues, “What if he gave it to San because you’re here? Maybe he just wanted to have Kyungmin for the weekend.”

Black hair, short and cropped, faded along his temples, his deep onyx suit makes his skin appear even more golden than usual. He stands out, beautiful and chiseled, like he should be on a runway instead of in an office. You scoff, “He has Kyungie every other weekend, Hwa. This job is like his second baby, his first baby, he wouldn’t just let San have what’s rightfully his.”

Mingi chuckles, stealing your attention, shoulders shaking with each laugh. Rings on his fingers, tie dark and patterned with streaks of silver, Mingi adds his own style into strict, corporate fashion, you have to respect him for it. You can’t be bothered, half of your closet is from a department store. 

“I seriously think he’s not here because you’re here,” Mingi shrugs, “just my opinion, though.”

“I’m here every year!” You argue, “We’re divorced, not archnemeses.” 

Seonghwa shrugs, “I agree with Mingi.”

“He said hi to you guys, by the way,” you look between the two, taking three open seats at the edge of a row in the middle of the audience, “when he dropped me off at the airport.”

“Wow, he dropped you off,” Mingi feigns surprise, brows pushed up, “intimate.”

You smack your teeth, “Don’t be stupid.”

The crowd gets quiet, the projected screens on either side of the stage lighting up, you cross a leg over your knee and settle into your seat, waiting for the speaker to walk onstage. You should have called Wooyoung this morning, you think, you wonder what Kyungmin’s doing today, if he misses you. 

Reaching into your purse with the intention of texting him, checking the pocket you always keep your phone in, you realize it isn't there. Furrowing your brows, panic in your blood, you pull your purse onto your lap, sorting through it, pushing past the old ziploc bags of snacks, lip balm, hand sanitizer, wipes, tissues, a small bottle of sunscreen. No phone. Eyes blowing wide, you whisper to Mingi, “I don’t have my phone. What if Wooyoung calls me?”

Seonghwa nudges your side, eyes on the stage, “I don’t think he’ll call.”

Looking at Seonghwa confused, you hear his voice blow through the room. Speaking into the mic, voice smooth and velvety yet strict and powerful, your jaw drops to the fucking floor. Wooyoung is onstage, long hair pinned back, in the dark gray business-casual outfit he used to keep in the back of your closet instead of a suit. 

“Where the fuck is my kid if he’s here?” You’re rigid with terror, ass at the edge of your seat like you were ready to get up and walk onstage, fists squeezing the absolute shit out of the straps of your purse. “He’s supposed to be at home, with my kid.”

Mingi’s hand lands on your flexed bicep, “Kyung’s probably with Woo’s parents, right? He probably got called here last minute, breathe. He wouldn’t leave him stranded or home alone.”

The reminder etches a semblance of relief in your stone bones, but you don’t let yourself feel it. Why didn’t he tell you? You talked to him just last night before he put Kyungmin to bed, he spoke nothing of hopping on a flight and overnighting himself here. 

You could kill him. You hear nothing of his speech, not a single word, too consumed by rage and confusion to even hear the topic. You sat with a rigid spine and bouncing knees for the entire hour, jaw clenched, fists tucked into your purse to hide how they didn’t uncurl once. The moment it was over you were up on your feet, barreling through the side of the theater room up to the side of the stage, face bent down in anger. 

He sees you before you see him. 

“Where the fuck is your phone?” He asks, pulling you by your arm behind one of the screens, standing facing one another, parallel to the back wall of the room. 

“Why the fuck are you here?” You whisper-yell, “Where is my son?”

“Our son is with my parents,” he whisper-yells back, “which you would know if you picked up your goddamn phone, I’ve been calling you since last night.”

Your brows furrow, head shaking in utter confusion, “I-I I left it in the room, maybe it’s dead? I–”

“What, did you get laid as soon as I got off the phone last night?” He looks dead serious, “Too important to answer my call about getting put on a red-eye here in the middle of the night?”

You’re replaying the events of last night in your head, did you not plug in your phone after you ended the call? You ate your room service, watched a movie, you wish you would have gotten laid, but a hotel room means you’re free to be alone with your right hand, watching– Oh. 

Your cheeks flush, “No, Wooyoung, it must have died, I didn’t even think this morning, I was rushing here after the alarm clock went off.”

“You didn’t think to call me?” 

“No!” You shake your head, voice a little louder now, “I didn’t. I think you’re more than capable of taking care of our son without me breathing down your fucking neck, Wooyoung.”

He straightens, face calming, a brow popping in question. “Really?”

“Yes,” you heave a breath, running a hand through your hair, “Jesus Christ. Kyungie’s with your mom?”

Wooyoung nods, “I dropped him off around midnight, I told her we’ll pick him up when we get back, she wants us to stay for dinner. Parked my car at the airport, I got a seat on your flight back.”

Your top lip lifts, “She wants us to stay for dinner?”

“Definitely gonna convince you to take me back,” Wooyoung’s lips flatten in a line. 

You fake a cough into your first, “I think I’m coming down with something.”

He rolls his eyes, “I already told her no, don’t worry. Do you want to call her from my phone?”

“No,” you shake your head, “he’s probably having the time of his life. I’ll leave them alone.”

“Are we all free from the shackles of your velcro- parenting?” He grins, eyebrows wiggling. 

“Fuck off,” you grumble, “I’m going back to my seat. Nice presentation, by the way.”

“Thanks, wifey,” you can hear humor in his voice, the sly grin on his lips. You shoot him the middle finger behind your back before you’re in front of any eyes. 

The rest of the conference is boring. Networking is the only fun part of it, but only when the person you’re talking to hates their job as much as you do. Other than that, it’s small talk of shareholding and statistics, each word off your lips makes you thirsty for liquor. 

“Ah, Wooyoungie’s wifey.”

Eyes pointed, you turn your head to find the perpetrator who approaches your back, you were now seated at the bar to avoid this exact thing happening. Choi San, senior executive of his company, a ray of fucking sunshine if he isn’t talking about the direction of your company or trying to fully recruit you for your skills. 

You force a smile on your cheeks, “Not Wooyoung’s wife anymore, you know this.”

“Is that why you’re drinking alone at the bar?” He raises his brows, coming up beside you, forgoing the bar stool to stand with his elbows planted on marble. 

Your brows slant inward, more annoyed than anything, “Come on, San.”

He chuckles, head dipping low between his shoulders, his dimples visible even engulfed in shadow. He picks his head up, voice teasing, “Are we on a first-name basis now?”

“Mr. Choi,” you correct yourself, voice playful, a grin clawing onto your own cheeks. “Apologies, sir.”

“I like that better,” he eyes your drink, a margarita half watered-down, “now can I ask why you’re drinking alone at the bar?”

“Boredom,” you say through a breath, “nothing better to do than drink tequila. Maybe then I can convince myself I enjoy talking numbers when I’m not being paid to do it.”

His lips purse, smile evident even with the scrunch, “Usually you’re on top of this event.” Humming, he pulls the barstool under him, sitting facing you with his knees spread. “Not interested this year?”

“I miss my kid,” you sigh, cheek landing in your closed fist. 

He frowns, “Most single mothers would be enjoying a weekend of freedom.”

“Then I guess I’m not most mothers,” you bring your drink to your lips, eyeing him with low lids over the rim. You can feel it radiating off him, the attraction, the want. You make a show of batting your lashes.

A rivalry he and Wooyoung have, ever since San started at the company, a constant petty, childish fight of who will come out on top. Who makes more money, who’s more successful, Wooyoung has used your marriage and your son for years in spiteful arguments, something Wooyoung has but San does not. You don’t know if he’ll ever marry or have kids, you don’t know if he has any interest in it at all. 

“Are you flirting with me, Mrs. Jung?” San cracks a smirk, it makes a shiver run down your spine. You’re most certainly not, but maybe the tequila and utter boredom has pulled something frisky in your tone, especially sitting beside a man like him. You don’t answer, placing your glass back down on the bar carefully, and San’s smirk grows. “Dangerous, I can see why Wooyoungie tied you down.”

You pop a brow, “Yeah? Please, do tell.”

There’s no harm in not denying it. Or allowing him to continue, at the very least. You haven’t gotten laid in awhile, haven’t been flirted with, haven’t felt desired in too long. You don’t really care about attention from him, of all people, but it’s kind of nice, in a way– even if you know very well how off-limits Choi San is, and that you won’t let it go any farther. 

San’s voice is hushed, eyes low, drinking up your figure like he’d been waiting for this day to come, “You’re intelligent, successful, you don’t let your kindness make you vulnerable.”

You can’t help the giddiness that begins to form, “So you’re the type that likes brains and not beauty?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know I’d fuck you brainless,” he chuckles a little, settling into the barstool, pulling his suit jacket tighter. “You’ve known that for a long, long time.”

And you’ve ignored it for even longer. It still makes your feet shift on the barstool, deepening the ache in your gut you didn’t have before he sat down, he’s never been so bold before. Over the years, in your marriage, you always blamed his flirty tone, wandering eyes on his and Wooyoung’s rivalry. Which is probably exactly what this is, something to hold over Woo’s head, or at least he’d plan to if you went through with it. Which you won’t, but it’s fun to hear what could be if the circumstances were different. 

“I have,” you nod, picking up your glass again, “is that what you want, Mr. Choi?”

“I’d make you forget Wooyoung exists,” he leans in, voice low, eyes piercing, “I’d fuck you better than he ever did.”

You hum, swirling the watered-down drink in your glass, “Good to know.”

His lips pursed, eyes dancing with thought before he says, “We’re staying in the same hotel, meet me at the bar tonight if you want it, too.”

You give him nothing but a short, small nod before bringing your drink up to your lips again. You watch him as he walks away, his tailored suit painted onto his ass, his thighs, he exuded money. Poise. He’s never gone as far as this, never been so blunt, never fed you a real option. But you suppose he never could, you’ve been married every time he’s talked to you, up until now. 

You laugh a little to yourself before throwing the rest of your drink back. 

Exhausted was an understatement for how you felt after the first day of the conference. Tomorrow would be filled with more guest speakers, more workshops, your body dragged as you hitched a ride with Mingi back to the hotel. Your phone was right where you left it, plugged into the charger, but your charger wasn’t plugged into the fucking wall. 

Undressing yourself, you called Wooyoung’s mom upon your screen lighting up again, having a quick chat with her before she put Kyungmin on the phone. After he ditched you for ice cream, Wooyoung’s mom was back on the phone, asking you how the conference is, then diving into how crazy it is that they put Wooyoung on a red-eye, how important and successful he is, how you’re so lucky to have him. 

“I know mom, thanks, I know,” you mumble between every sentence, face twitching in annoyance, your back pressed to the perfectly made bed, body sprawled out with exhaustion. It’s like she doesn’t even care that you aren’t together anymore.

“You two are coming to dinner on Sunday, yes?” She asks, and you kick your feet out, face scrunching together in a silent whine. “I already bought food at the grocery store today.”

After a silent, agonizing sigh, you answer, “Yup, we’ll be there.”

How could you say no after Woo dropped your son off in the middle of the night?

Her voice raises ten octaves in excitement, “Oh, thank god, we miss you, sweetie. I’m so excited to see you!”

“Can’t wait to see you, too,” your lips fold into a tight, flat smile. “Tell Kyung I said goodnight.”

“I will, we’ll call you in the morning,” you can hear her nod, her voice shaky from sheer joy, “sleep well, sweetheart.”

“You too,” you hang up the phone, then groan, long and low, a sigh following it. Fuck. The most pure-hearted woman, you think you broke her heart worse than Wooyoung’s when you divorced him. Fuck. You can’t believe you agreed to dinner. It’s the least you could do. 

You need a fucking drink. The hotel room only has airplane bottles of wine, all white, nothing red, even in the overpriced fridge selection. Sighing, you drag yourself into the bathroom, taking a quick shower before throwing on comfortable clothes and heading to the elevators at the end of the hall. 

The bar was empty save for one, probably the only person on the entire earth who you didn’t care if they saw you with wet hair and baggy sweats on. “I just got off the phone with your mom,” you say, pulling out the barstool beside him. 

He picks his head up, still dressed in business-casual, “Yeah? I called her when I left the conference, Kyungmin’s having fun.”

“I told her we’d stay for dinner on Sunday,” you reluctantly admit, flagging down the bartender. 

“Put it on my tab,” Wooyoung adds after you gave him your drink order, making you scowl. 

“I can pay for my own drinks,” you mutter. 

Wooyoung smiles, “Consider it my pre-paid thanks for dinner on Sunday, wifey. It'll make her whole year.”

“I’m only coming because she’s watching Kyungie,” you shoot daggers at him, ignoring the nickname, “even exchange. No need for you to pay my tab.”

Wooyoung groans, leaning back in the chair, “Can you go one day without arguing with me?”

Shaking your head, you simply respond, “No, that’s why I divorced you.”

Wooyoung stares at you for a second before snorting, “Ouch.”

“Thanks,” you mumble, both to Wooyoung and the bartender as he places your drink on top of a cocktail napkin. “You didn’t even go up yet? You’re still dressed.”

“Needed to think,” he shrugs, fingers playing with the label on his beer bottle. “They want me to speak again tomorrow, someone didn’t show.”

“Oh, shit,” your face scrunches up as you take a sip, “you gotta make up a new presentation tonight?”

He nods, lips bent, staring at his beer bottle. You lean onto the bar, “Why don’t you let San present?”

He looks up at you, eyes pointed, “Fuck no.”

“Why not?” You make a face like that was the only clear, viable option. “He has one ready to go, does he not?”

“I was asked to present,” his voice grows harsher, “me. Not him.”

“I know, but–”

“You know what, let me ask you something.” He sits up straighter in his stool, eyebrows bent above a look so sharp it could kill. “Are you sleeping with him? Is that why you didn’t answer me last night?”

You blink at him, thrice, “What–?”

“I saw you at the bar today,” he continues, voice utterly venomous, “then he said something to me, insinuating that you fuck. Or fucked. Or are fucking.”

“Do you think that low of me?” Your laugh is out of sheer disbelief. “That I’d fuck him, of all people? He flirts with me, and I don’t exactly stop him, but–”

His laugh mirrors yours, “Exactly. That’s exactly why he said that shit to me.”

“Why should I stop him?” You argue back, “It’s nice to hear that someone fucking wants me, my life is nothing but work and Kyungmin. Even when we were still married my life was nothing but work and Kyungmin, you had no interest in–”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” his voice is steady but bruising, “I’m not starting this argument with you again.”

“What, did you forget why I divorced you or something?” Your hands fly, eyes wide and piercing, “That I was sick of being married to a fucking machine?” 

Wooyoung turns to face the bar again, shaking his head, “You’re unbelievable.”

“I’m unbelievable,” your laugh has no warmth in it, “you just started being a father and I’m unbelievable.”

“I just started being a father?” He turns his head again, eyes wider than yours now, baffled. “Did you hit your fucking head or something?”

“We split up over a year ago,” your voice is nothing short of theatrical, “drop the fake-surprise, Wooyoung. It’s nothing you haven’t heard before.”

“And it’s all the same bullshit you’ve been spewing for years,” he takes a long sip of his beer, “maybe you should fuck San, he might be a better fit for you, you’re both liars.”

Slowly nodding, you sink into your seat, voice taunting, “He did say he’d make me forget you ever existed. That he’d fuck me better than you ever did. Should I find out? He’s coming down here tonight to get me, to bring me back up to his room…”

Wooyoung’s grip tightens around his beer bottle, eyes laser-focused onto the bar like the swirls in marble was the most interesting thing he’s ever seen. You grin. 

“…He seems big, real strong, too. Bet he’d throw me around the room, maybe even get me pregnant again. Kyungmin would like a sibling, don’t you think?”

“What are you doing?” He finally looks at you again, voice ragged, angry and blunt. 

You shrug, “Since you think me and Sannie would be so great together, I’m exploring options.”

As if it were a movie, something straight out of fucking Netflix, Choi San walks through the deep oak double-doors, still in his tailored suit, a cocky smirk spreading when he sees you. It widens, dimples showing when he spots Wooyoung beside you. 

Wooyoung lets out a nasty chuckle, “You’re not kidding.”

“Why would I joke about it?” You lift a brow, “I told you, it was nice to feel wanted.”

“You wanna give Kyungmin a sibling?” He’s looking at you again, and his mismatched eyes are asking more than one question. Heat curls low, it’s been a long, long time since he’s looked at you that way, since he’s said anything more than a passive joke. 

You swallow, words caught in your throat. 

“Answer me, jagi,” he leans in closer, voice still laced with anger, but it’s morphed into something deeper, rooted in jealousy, in possession. He hasn’t called you that since before you brought up separating, it makes your lips part, eyebrows folding in just enough to crease at the center. “If you’re gonna give him a sibling, it’ll be with his father.” 

Licking your lips, seeing nothing but truth and determination in his eyes, you find yourself nodding, whispering a short, “Okay.”

“Charge it to my room, 1117,” he tells the bartender, slamming a bill on the marble before grabbing you by the wrist, dragging you right past San without as much as a glance. You don’t even look at him, you don’t need to, clearly you’ve lost your fucking mind following Wooyoung to the elevators. 

The moment the doors open he’s pushing you inside roughly, caging you in against the wall, forehead pressed to yours. “You wanna get fucked?” 

You arch into him, whispering, “Yeah.”

“You want me to fuck you full? Get you pregnant again?”

“Fuck,” you whimper, fingers finding his jacket, “yes.”

You tug him closer by his jacket, tilting your head up to find his lips with your own. Your head is fuzzy, body charged with electricity from your argument, being in a goddamn elevator with him pressed to you, your leg lifts to clamp over his back, tugging him impossibly closer. 

Nostalgic isn’t the word, it’s like muscle memory, how your lips messily tangle, tongues slotting into each other’s mouths how you’ve always done, two people who know each other better than anyone else. He groans, hips rutting into yours, making you moan into his mouth, hands flying up to his hair, tugging at his roots. 

“You don’t want San,” he mutters into your mouth, breath heavy, voice rough. “You want me.”

“Shut up,” you mumble back, chasing his lips, he doesn’t let you have them. 

“Say it,” he urges, fingers digging into your sides, pushing you harder against the wall. “Say you want me.”

“I want to be fucked,” your voice is clipped, annoyed, “do it, before I go back to the bar.”

His chuckle isn’t amused nor entertained, it’s harsh and unforgiving and makes a chill down up your fucking spine. The elevator dings and he pulls away from you, turning around, leaving the elevator as if he’s completely unaffected. You follow after him, on his heel as he makes for his room, he doesn’t say anything as he places his card up against the sensor, pushing the door open when it rings green.

“Oh, you’re coming in?” He asks, face unreadable. 

You pause with one foot through the doorway, “Does it look like I’m coming in?”

He lets go of the door as you walk inside his room, light walls, bare, it mirrors yours. He takes off his jacket, hanging it in the closet, “Thought you were gonna go get fucked by San, you want him to throw you around, don’t you?”

You whine, “Wooyoung.”

He pulls his shirt over his head, exposing his bronzy skin, his sculpted abdomen, his hipbones that poke out from above his waistband. You’re salivating taking in the sight of him, it’s been so long since you’ve seen him, touched him. 

He starts unbuttoning his slacks, staring at you like he’s bored, “You want me or him?”

You don’t know why you’re putting up a fight. You agreed to this already, your lips still feel swollen, your fingertips are buzzing with need– but admission is letting him win, and you can’t let him win. 

“I want,” you mumble as he pulls his zipper down, purposely flexing his body, staring at you through lowered brows. Your breath grows shallow, licking your lips as he pushes them down his thighs, “I want–”

“What?” He tilts his head, voice taunting as he kicks them off his feet, taking a step toward you. His length is prominent through his briefs, a wet spot clear on onyx nylon, “Tell me, jagi.”

“I want,” your fingertips tug at the hem of the zip-up on your upper half, eyes locked into how his veiny hand curls over his length, voice small from how deep into the daze you’ve sank already, “you.”

Approaching you, his height engulfing you, making you feel small, your head tilts upward to see him. His smirk grows, two fingers landing on your zipper, “You want who?”

He slides it down before you answer, jacket falling off your shoulders, revealing the black, lacy bralette you wore underneath. It’s comfortable, and you wore it for that sole reason, despite how it looks, but his jaw ticks when he sees it, chocolate eyes going deep, melted, burnt. 

You watch as his fingers find the center, tugging on the elastic band, letting it snap back against your skin. You gasp, a small sound, looking back up at him with glassy eyes, “Stop toying with me and do something.”

“I’m not touching you until you do as I say.” Fingers sinking into the waistband of your sweats, he bends to tug them down your hips, leaving you nearly bare, slowly standing up straight again, his nose so close to your skin he nearly touches you. “Tell me who you want to fuck you.”

“You, you fucking prick,” your back arches as he reaches his full height again, “I want you to fuck me.”

An amused smirk spreads across his cheeks before he feigns a pout, “That was mean, mommy.” Taking his hands to your shoulders, his fingertips trail down your sides, dancing against your skin, his touch, that word, his tone making you shiver. “Be nice to me and I’ll be nice to you.”

“Why are you teasing me?” You huff, each touch feeling like zaps of electricity, it’s clear he wants to take his time, wants to get you worked up. You want him to fuck you, to ruin you, to put a baby in you, you don’t want him nice. “Fuck me already, Wooyoung.” 

“We have time,” his hand hinds your hair, scratching into your scalp before running his fingers through it, cupping your cheek afterward. “No kid, no interruptions, just us. When’s the last time we had that?”

“Way before we split up,” you melt into his palm, soft against your skin, comforting. Home. Your voice comes out airy, almost a whisper, “Fuck, we shouldn’t be doing this.”

Guilt– already sneaking up your spine, he catches it before it has the chance to spread. “Why not?” His hand that was on your cheek slides down to your jaw, smiling down at you viciously before his grip tightens, “You want a baby, don’t you? Wanted to get fucked so badly you planned to fuck my coworker.”

You whimper as he moves you backward, eyes wide, skin sizzling. He pushes you down onto the bed with nothing but his palm on your face, “You wanted this, and you know there’s no one else who fucks you like I do. Say it.”

“No one else,” you whisper, back already arching as he crawls on top of you, “just you, Woo, no one else fucks me like you do.”

He sucks in a breath, almost a hiss, brows furrowing as his fingers hook into your panties, knees pressed to the mattress on either side of your legs. “You want my mouth? Or my cock? When’s the last time this pussy was stretched out, huh?”

“Mouth,” you lift your hips easy for him as he tugs your black panties down your thighs, “long time.”

“Long time?” He smirks, back to taunting, “Was the last person me?”

“Fuck you,” you grumble out, “do something.”

He sits up straighter and you can feel the cool air of the room on your already-wet core, knees pinning together. “Hiding from me now?” His voice makes you want to rip your fucking hair out. “When I’m the only person who can make this pussy cum? Be nice to me, mommy.”

“Stop calling me that,” your fingers tighten in the comforter below you, “it’s fucked up.”

“I used to call you that all the time,” his brows furrow, “you remember what you used to call me?”

You shake your head, whining, “Stop playing games, Wooyoung.”

“Just give in,” he smacks the side of your thigh, “I’m here, right in front of you, waiting for you to hump my nose like a bitch in heat like you always fuckin’ do. Just say the words, jagi.”

His words, the sting makes you moan, thighs tightening just to get some friction. Resistance is a band pulled taut, you finally feel something vital in you crack, the band snapping, your lips move before you can think about the defeated words leaving them. “Yes, the last person was you, daddy. Need your mouth, your cock, need you to do something– fuck me, please.”

His smile is feline, “There she is.”

Two hands on your knees spread you wide, he dives down to press his tongue flat to your core, eyes flying back into his head when he tastes you. You moan at the same time, your fingers flying down to tangle in his slick roots as he starts lapping at your folds, drinking up every drop you’ve accumulated. 

“So sweet,” he moans into you, “missed this pussy.”

Your breath is leaving you in short, shallow puffs, but a cocky, hazy smirk forms on your lips despite the pleasure, “Who’s pussy?”

“Mommy’s,” he says with a smile, eyeing you from between your legs, so shameless it makes you giggle, cut off by a sharp, strangled moan when his nose runs over your clit. “Forget I know you? Like the back of my hand?”

“Been a long time,” you lift yourself up on one elbow, your other hand in his hair, feet hooked over his back as you grind your hips up against his mouth, his nose. “Fuck, feels good.”

His eyes flutter closed, letting your hips grind against him, tongue pushed out pointed, catching on your entrance with each grind of your hips. Your clit ghosts his nose and you gasp, you’re sensitive, you haven’t gotten head in years, you think. “Sh– it,” you stutter, “so good, Woo, ohmygod.”

He groans into you, arms wrapping around your thighs, fingers digging into your hips. Keeping you in rhythm, not letting you falter, he fucks your hips onto his face with perfect pace, each movement strategic, practiced like he did this regularly. It has you weak, toes curling, head dipping back, hips moving recklessly, quicker with each drag over his hot, wet mouth. 

He’s loving it, face knitted up in bliss, his hips rutting into the mattress like he needed the relief. The noises you make are loud, lewd, a hymn of pleasure only he could give you, in harmony with the squelching sounds of his mouth against your core, so dirty and nasty it edges you further, brings the pit in your stomach forward like his mouth was a toy.

“Close,” you gasp and his fingers tighten on your hips, head nodding faster, in tune with your rocking hips. Your breath catches as his nose flicks over your clit, the same pace, same pressure, same rhythm, you stutter babbles as the pressure in your gut builds, sounds growing in pitch, muddling closer together, “Fuck, daddy, I’m g’na fucking cum.”

He moans into you like he knew the vibration of his voice would push you over the edge and it fucking does, the sound that leaves you is strained, loud, vulnerably shrill. Joints locking up, face scrunching, head tucked into your chest, you spasm beneath his hold and he rocks you through it, keeping you steady, his rhythm never once faltering as your pleasure hits his peak, rushing through you like a tidal wave, the strongest orgasm you’ve had in a long time. 

He slows down with your shaking limbs that lose their speed, breath finally returning to you, heavy and desperate and relieving all at once. “Holy shit,” you breathe through the words, fingers loosening in his hair, tucking your arm beneath you, leaning on both elbows to look down at him. “Intense.”

His smirk returns tenfold, “Of course it was, I made you cum.” 

You flatten out on the bed, a soft giggle escaping you as you roll your eyes, “Cocky.”

He presses one more soft kiss to your clit that makes you gasp, body jerking, “For good reason, did you hear yourself?”

You smack your lips, voice amused, “I have half a mind to leave now, asshole. Thanks for the big O, baby daddy, I’ll go back to my room now.”

He crawls on top of you, pulling your thighs down, flush to his own, leaning down so your foreheads are mere centimeters apart, “Baby daddy? Ex-husband is a better title than baby daddy.”

You tilt your chin up, smiling, “How about sperm donor?”

He presses his lips to yours, rough, soul-sucking, you arch into him, hips bucking up to gain friction again. He smiles into your lips, “So mean for someone who just came on her ex-husband’s face like a dirty fuckin’ slut.”

Something small, pitched and shaky leaves you from the tip of your throat, you throw your arms around his shoulders, pressing your lips to his again like you needed him. Tucking him into you, his hips dig against yours, his bare chest pressed flat, elbows landing on either side of your head. You kiss for a while, sloppy and messy and nostalgic, swapping spit like it was candy, tongues gliding into each other’s mouths like you were making up for lost time. 

His hand slips between your bodies, two fingers adding pressure onto your clit, he groans at the wetness, the heat that bleeds into him. “So wet, she missed me, huh?”

“S-shit, inside,” you gasp, grinding your hips against his fingers, “please.”

He presses his lips to yours, kissing you once, twice before pulling away, keeping your chins touching, both of your lips parted and touching as he slips two fingers inside, moaning into each other’s mouths. 

He curls them immediately, making you cry out, hands finding his hair again, fingertips clawing into his scalp. He hisses, “So tight, fuck, how am I gonna fit, huh?”

“You’ll– shi– ah, y-you’ll fit,” sensitivity looms, body twitching underneath him, clenching around his fingers that sink so deliciously deep. You kiss him again, grinding against his fingers that scissor you open, “You’ll make it fit.”

He smiles against you, fingers making quick work of your leaking core, “Missed this pussy, can’t believe you haven’t given it up to anyone else.”

“No time,” you whisper and he crooks his fingers angrily, making you squeal out a cry, “fuck!”

“Try again,” he slows, bottom lip ghosting yours, “get it right this time, or I’ll stop.”

“It’s yours,” you whimper, “I’m yours, fuck, I’m yours.”

He’s chuckling as he kisses you again, smiling into your mouth as his fingers massage the front of your walls, calculated and angled, like he was trained to make only your body sing. He stops only to tug his briefs down his legs and the chill that engulfs you is conscious, it reminds you who’s on top of you, who’s pulling these noises from the deepest part of your gut. 

Tattoos on display, minus the one at the tip of his spine, skin littered with droplets of mocha, spots you’ve kissed enough times to be burned into your memory. Body lean, strong, angular and unforgiving, all you can do is stare at his beauty, let it calm you, excite you, resurrect you from the loneliness you’ve endured. 

His cock springs up between his hipbones, leaking, red, it begged for you even if Wooyoung didn’t, you wonder if this is how he’s felt this whole time. “Missed you,” it slips out of your mouth, two involuntary words pulled straight from the back of your mind, an area gone untouched for over a year.

“Yeah?” He crawls back on top of you, “Missed me or fucking me?”

“Both,” your hands come up to cradle his cheeks, hooking your ankles over his back, “come over more.”

He laughs as he rests a hand on the back of your thigh, unhooking your legs as he pushes it backward, lining himself up with your entrance, “You haven’t invited me over since I moved out.”

“It’s not like you’ve asked to come over either.” 

You gasp as he starts pushing inside, hands falling, back arching as he sinks into you inch by inch. His cock is heavy, the stretch is tight, it renders you silent, face scrunched up, a streak of searing heat with each new inch. 

“Take it,” he sounds rough himself, voice edged with restraint. “Open up, jagi. This pussy’s mine, it wants me, it’s made f’me.” 

Your fingers find his forearm, other hand clawing into the sheets as a broken cry leaves your lips, “Fuck.”

When he sheathes himself fully he leans down, planting a kiss to your slacked jaw, a soft press of his lips that makes you twitch, breath shaky. He plans another one on your lips, voice low, “I haven’t asked to come over because I know you don’t want me there.”

“I want you there.”

“You divorced me.”

“Then let’s get married again,” your whine is loud, core clenching, grinding your hips against his cock. 

He laughs again before pulling out, a slow drag of his veiny cock against your walls, mushroom tip dragging against the spot against your inner walls, “You’re cockdrunk.”

He slams in all the way and your body locks up so hard you can’t breathe, his smile is condescending, pushing himself up until his back is straight, grip iron on your calf as he holds it over your chest. His abdomen flexes with each roll of his hips, fucking into you so deep you can feel it in your throat, you hold his gaze, eyes watering, brows furrowed, lips pried open. 

“Look at you,” he cooes, “like the day I fuckin’ met you, so hungry for it. So desperate for my cock you wanna marry me again.”

“Shut up,” you whisper, bending your other knee just to feel him deeper, “just fuck me.”

“I am fucking you,” he argues, exuding something vile, “and you’re acting like you can’t get enough, it’s pathetic.”

You moan, back arching, holding your other leg back by tucking your hand under your knee, “I can’t.”

“I know, jagi,” he nods, eyes sliding down to where you meet, watching his own cock split you open, how your folds pulse around him, clit twitching. “No one fucks you like I do, right?”

You shake your head, body burning at the sound of him bullying into you, so wet and loud it’s obscene. Your voice comes out raw, shaky, “No one else, just you, daddy– shit, just you.”

He grunts, reaching for your other leg, bending down to throw them over his shoulders, hands planted down on the mattress on either side of your head. “You want me to fuck you full? Give you another baby?”

You reach for him, pulling him down to kiss you, all teeth and broken noises, “Y–es, daddy, please.”

The noise of wet skin slapping skin dances with your cries of pleasure in the air, Wooyoung’s muddled grunts mixing into the symphony, your hips raised to meet his thrusts and his cock dragging against that spot inside you that has you seeing stars, you wail. It’s too good, it’s overwhelming, you’ve never felt like this before, so consumed by pleasure and passion you don’t notice the tears spilling down your cheeks. 

“Cryin’ for me?” He leans down to lick the tear that runs down your cheek, his tongue heavy, warm. He kisses you after, sloppy and slow, so unlike the brutal pace of his cock. “Gonna take care of you, mommy. Gonna give you another baby.”

You’re clenching around him nonstop, the pleasure sharp, his words making it so much worse. He frees one leg from his shoulder to tuck his hand between your legs again, pressing his fingers to your clit, “Cum around my cock, jagi. Let me feel it, wanna feel you cum.”

Your hips are bucking with no rhythm, an animalistic, pathetic need to obey him, you need him to reward you, to fill you up. His fingers work in precise circles, tight and harsh, it doesn’t take long for the pressure to build with his cock moving in the same flow. You go silent, breath caught, and he smiles.

“Gonna cum on daddy’s cock? Gonna give it to me?”

All you can do is nod, fingers curling into his hair, all you can do is lay there and fucking take it. 

“Cum for me, mommy, c’mon.”

It pushes you over, pressure blowing just as intense as the first time, he fucks you through it, moaning, head turning to sink his teeth into your calf. You seize beneath him, nerve endings fried, mind-blowing pleasure the only thing you can feel, you don’t know what sounds are leaving you, what you’re saying, it’s all too much. He chokes on another moan, cock pulsing inside you, hips stuttering, you watch with glassy eyes as he tucks his bottom lip between his teeth, tilting his head to watch himself fuck into you. 

“Please,” a small, broken word, it’s the only word you can manage, body still locked tight. 

“Did so good,” he shakes his head, “fuck– gonna fill you up so full.”

“Look at me,” you whisper and he picks his head up, face contorted in pleasure, hips bucking. “Look at me while you fill me up, please.”

It makes his face twist, hips stuttering, a loud, extended moan pushing from the base of his gut before his hips move out of rhythm, fucking into you like you’re a toy, relentlessly chasing his own high. 

“Gonna,” he stutters, you nod with each word, “gonna fill you up.”

“Uh-huh, please.”

His hips finally still, body falling forward, down to his elbows as he gives you the last few thrusts, deep enough for his release to hit its mark, to do as he promised. Warmth spreads through you, heavy, full, it racks a shiver through you, swallowing down a moan.

He tucks his face into your neck, breath heavy, he plants a soft kiss against your sweaty skin. With nothing to hold him back, he whispers, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you answer, too earnest for what just transpired, arms wrapping around his back, nails trailing against his soft skin. “We haven’t said that in a long time.”

Face still buried, his words are muffled against your skin, “I think I’ll always love you.”

“So will I,” you say it like it’s obvious, voice heavy with exhaustion, “we have a kid together, Wooyoung.”

His cock twitches inside you, soft and spent, you can feel him smile. “Maybe two.”

“I’m not ovulating,” your hands come up to his hair, pulling his face away from your neck to look at you, “chances are low. You really want another one?”

“I thought you did, too,” his brows furrow, “what did we just say all that shit for?”

You shrug, “It was hot.”

He snorts, lowering his head to press his lips to yours, softer than the rest, slower. Filled with all the time you’ve gone untouched, spent separated, each one tearing down the tall, thick wall of resentment between you, brick by brick. 

“Does this mean anything, then?” He finally pulls away to ask, and you’re becoming uncomfortably aware of him still inside you. 

“Depends,” you whisper, shifting beneath him. Cocking your head, you ask, “Are you still a selfish, narcissistic asshole that only cares about his job?”

He shakes his head, mumbling, “No.”

“Okay,” you lift your chin, “prove it, then. Let San speak tomorrow.”

He snarls, “What the fuck does this have to do with San?”

You smack your teeth, brushing sweaty strands of hair out of his pretty face, “It’s a step forward. Do it and I’ll let you take me out on a date.”

He sits back on his calves, careful in his movements, he slips out of you slowly, intentionally. He leans down, pressing a kiss to your overly sensitive clit and it makes you gasp, hips twitching once. You smile through the stimulation, the feeling is nostalgic, something he used to do every time you had sex. You look up at him through heavy lids as he runs his hands up and down your thighs like he doesn’t want to stop touching you.

He finally huffs, “Okay, but I have to make a few calls and get it cleared first.” Leaning down to press a kiss to the side of your knee, he asks, “Do you wanna stay here tonight?”

“Can we shower and order room service and watch a movie?” The question comes quick, as if you knew he’d ask, you lift yourself up on your elbows as he starts crawling off the bed. 

“Duh,” he grins, “c’mon, shower time and then we’ll call Kyungminnie.”

You gasp, a smile breaking out across your cheeks, “My baby.”

“Our baby,” he corrects, grabbing you by the ankles, pulling you to the edge of the bed, “Up.”

It’s hard to remember why you decided to come here.

If it was a typical night out, it’d be different. Normally, you and your friends are dressed up in your cutest outfits with your cutest cherry lip gloss and headed to one of your regular clubs in the city. There’s a strip of many, lined with any vibe you could ever want; cocktails, hard liquor, anything. The music is decent enough, the drinks aren’t too expensive, and most importantly - it’s safe.

It’s a lot safer than what people typically call hot spots floating around these days, the places where vampires spend their time. Ever since the existence of vampires was confirmed to the general public, there’s been as much fear as there has been fixation, so the typical hanging out spots of vampires are regularly discussed and known. You’ve been warned to stay away from these places - the dark lighting, heavy bassline, threatening as much as alluring type of clubs - because it’s dangerous for humans, although plenty of thrill-seeking humans go there anyway. 

You’ve always felt like it’s not such a black and white predator-prey dynamic, but that doesn’t mean you’re not standing outside of the nightclub with a tinge of anxiety in your chest. What if the stories are true? What if a vampire uses some sort of mythical power to lure you away from everything you’ve ever known, to compel you to let them feed on you and rid you of any purity you may still have lingering?

Still, you remind yourself that’s silly and you’re safe - you can spot them from a mile away, but not for what one may assume. They’re not walking around at night in centuries old clothing with pale skin and blood glistening fangs protruding over a swollen, heavy bottom lip - they’re just like humans, really, but they have a specific aura. There’s something about them, whether it be expensive designer clothing styled with the expertise of someone who’s spent thousands of years doing so or radiant skin that doesn’t quite look real; it’s something otherworldly that sets them aside from everyone else. 

But more importantly, vampires simply aren’t as bothered with humans as you assumed them to be. A few vampires have strutted past you and your friends tonight as you wait outside in the queue, dressed in dark materials and nails long and sharp, but it seems the availability of blood banks and willing donors after the big announcement has left them pretty docile. They don’t snarl and growl like the legends say - in fact, they seem pretty damn uninterested.

The bouncer on the door even displays little pointy white teeth as she checks your IDs and raises an eyebrow at Jihyo who’s dyed her hair and looks a little different. Still, she shoots you a nod, arms crossing back over her strong chest and lets the three of you inside the club.

Well, it’s exactly what you imagined. Red lights drape the partygoers and inside of the club, and the interior is like a church, with stone pillars and arches overseeing everything. You have to teeter downstairs on unstable platform heels to the actual main part, tugging at the bottom of your dress like it’ll help the way it rides up with your movement. 

The bass only gets louder when you enter the room with the dancefloor, crowds of people inhibiting your movements so you’re almost locked in the little space you have. Curiosity strikes you and you want to move through the crowd to walk around, check the other rooms now that you know it can’t be that bad, but your friends drag you off to the bar.

“Don’t tell me the cocktails are vampire-themed,” You quip, and Jihyo elbows you, scoffing.

“Get into the mood, please,” She waves a hand in your face, grin bright and hair swept into a perfect ponytail, “the music is good, the atmosphere is good, the place is packed and it’s only midnight. I told you Sana was onto something about this place!”

Sana chirps up from your other side, already leaning onto the bar, “I’ve come here a few times! It only gets better later, you know, we should stay as long as possible.” 

It’s surprisingly not sticky like your regular places are when you lean on the bar next to her, and although there’s a lot of people at the bar the bartender doesn’t take a long time to get to you. Jihyo orders you three drinks, something sweet with the kick of too much alcohol, and the three of you take to the dancefloor with drinks in hand.

“Do vampires even drink?” Jihyo murmurs, staring at the drink in hand. 

Sana hums, “The ones here do, from what I’ve seen.”

You swear there’s something else floating in there, glittery and tempting and unknown, but when you swirl your glass it disappears. Taking a swig, you know when it hits your tongue that it’s just your typical vodka and lemonade, but that doesn’t change the clenching in your gut that something just isn’t right, like something’s looming and you haven’t gotten the ability to see it yet. 

Still, Jihyo was right - the club is beyond busy even though it’s early, and the song is slowly getting you moving in your spot. The dancefloor twinkles, entrancing as you all move to it, and within minutes you’re dancing with your girls, the uneasy feeling leaving your body as literally no one bothers you. It’s beginning to become apparent that this spot might be even better than your usual places; despite the dark, gloomy atmosphere outside and as you walk in it’s pretty inviting once you’re in there, and they’re playing classics that you haven’t heard in years.

A few drinks and a few songs later, you’re reasonably buzzed from the amount of vodka in your system and feeling even more free. Sana wobbles off to the bar again, a little too tipsy to walk in a straight line, and you and Jihyo take the time to look around the club.

The main part you’re stood in is pretty centre, so you get to look around and take everything in. A DJ at the front, pretty generic but she’s focused on the task at hand, crop top short enough to show a navel piercing that glints in the lights - she seems to peruse the dancefloor at who the attendees for tonight are.

What catches your attention is the sections beyond the area you’re in, the VIP booths that seem to be obscured by curtains, yet you can see shadows moving behind them, clearly occupied. You dare to wonder what’s going on behind there. Your vision tracks through it all until you land on an area right at the edge, just over from the bar but with the curtains open, where two men stand in the entryway. You feel a pair of eyes on you before you fully register who it is - the culprit is right there, in that end section, long hair falling over his forehead in black waves.

Two pairs of eyes are on you, to be exact, two dark pairs that you swear to god you’ve seen before. When you wrack your brain, you can’t recall despite the fact they seem so familiar, and the men are still staring at you - one shorter, one taller, clad in all sorts of black leather and tight, dark clothing that your thighs start to tremble. It’s like they work together, their eyes wracking your frame with a million promises that go unsaid, their minds working silently. The shorter man’s lips curve up when he sees you looking back at them.

Radiant skin, an otherworldly aura - you know exactly what they are, but you’d be damned if you didn’t say they look beautiful, so enticing that you feel some sort of gravitational pull towards them, a feeling strong and all consuming that makes you need. 

They’re positioned on the side of the club, up towards the VIP booths that you examined but separate, like they booked an area all to themselves. While the entrance is covered in black-out curtains intended to save privacy, the two men have hooked the curtains to the side and you can see inside the booth. There’s a leather couch, an abundance of burgundy-coloured drinks, and rolled up notes that you can only imagine the purpose of. 

Jihyo’s talking to you. You hadn’t realised, but you slowly fade back into reality, and she’s flailing, trying to get your attention. “What are you looking at?” She shrieks, spinning next to you to follow your line of sight. It doesn’t take long for Sana to join her too, three drinks in two hands, and the impressed hums they let out are nothing short of embarrassing. “Oh, I see. You should go over there.”

“Definitely,” Sana says, and you notice the men haven’t even acknowledged them - they’re staring right at you still, and the taller man’s eyes follow the straw in your drink as you lead it back to your lips. You wonder what’s got them so interested in you, considering the vampires’ flippant attitudes outside - these men look beyond insatiable in comparison. She laughs in disbelief, “oh, you’re going over there. Like, now.”

You side eye them, mumbling behind your glass in a way that you’re hoping the men can’t see, “They’re vampires.”

“Even more reason,” Jihyo shoves you, pushing you forward before you can retort. “We’ll see you when you’re done.”

It’s a bad idea. It’s such a bad idea, especially given everything you know, how vampires can hurt you and compel you to do things you’d never do normally. However, you just can’t seem to help yourself - you down the rest of your drink, sliding the empty glass onto the bar before you’re walking right over to where the men stand. 

The shorter man is laughing before you even get there. You feel embarrassed for a moment, but the taller man cocks his head towards you in interest, as if he can’t believe you’ve made the first move - as if he can’t believe you’re brave enough to. You can’t believe it either, but you stand at the entrance to their section like you belong there with them.

“Mm, can we help you, love?” The taller man speaks, almost accusatory like they weren’t the ones staring at you. His voice is smooth, steady, just barely audible over the music. The shorter man has retreated to the table, arms stretched over the back of the sofa and legs stretched out in front of him, the picture of confidence. He swirls his drink in his glass as he watches you, a smirk pulling at his lips like he knows you’ve bitten off more than you can chew. 

You flush, and the taller man reaches out to bring your attention back to him, pushing your hair behind your ear. Up close, he’s ethereal, shoulder length hair that falls in dark layers around his sculpted face. His lips are full and with a pronounced cupid’s bow, causing your eyes to linger just a second too long - he sees it, lips quirking with amusement.

The silence is causing you to hesitate, and you want to turn around and leave, abort the mission completely, but he speaks again. “I’m Seonghwa,” He says, and you think it’s a pretty name to match a pretty face. “That’s Hongjoong. He’s friendly, I promise.”

Hongjoong turns to you with a grin that looks more predatory than friendly, and Seonghwa ushers you over to the table. You don’t miss how he pulls the curtains down behind you once you walk in, obscuring the three of you from the rest of the club - are the rest of the booths full of vampires with their picks for the night? The idea doesn’t make you uneasy, rather exciting you; deep down, there’s something within you that is raving that you may be their pick.

The leather of the sofa is a little too hard when you fall down upon it, dress rolling up a little, and you’re not surprised to see Hongjoong is just as pretty up close too. His hair is messy, dark brown and long enough to almost obscure his pretty, feline eyes, and when he finally drops his smile his lips are pouty, almost cute if you didn’t know who he is - what he is. When he finally speaks, his voice is level, commanding, so strong you’re not sure you can find your own. 

“Do you want a drink, sweetheart?”

“I..” You hesitate, glancing at the liquid. What exactly are they drinking? You were still a little tipsy from the pregame, and the drinks that the girls got you at the bar are going straight to your head now that you’re in the company of the two most attractive men you’ve ever met. It’s hard to formulate ideas and Seonghwa blinks, tilting his head again before he finally meets your gaze on the large pitcher in the middle of the table.

He bursts out laughing. “Oh,” He chortles, clapping his hands together. “Did you- sorry, did you think we were drinking blood? Honey, this is rum.”

“Well…” you start, “you’re- y’know.”

It’s Hongjoong’s turn to chuckle, sipping his drink again before he finally turns to you. Instead of letting his friend pour you a drink, he hands you his own glass and you leave a pretty lipgloss stain when you taste some. It’s nice, a little bitter for you but the men seem happy enough drinking it, and you’re honestly just pleased that it’s not human blood. 

“What do you know about vampires?” Hongjoong asks, tone teasing, “I mean, surely not a lot. You approached two on your own in a nightclub and then you thought we were drinking blood in here. You seem pretty dumb, little thing.”

It’s said flippantly, but neither of them miss how a shiver runs down your spine - how could they? Hongjoong’s brow lilts in intrigue and Seonghwa takes a sip of his own drink, perching himself on the seat across from you both. He spreads his lithe thighs, too relaxed in the company of someone he doesn’t know - you suppose it’s easy for them. 

“I know enough,” When you speak, your voice is quiet, but sure. They hang off your every word, quiet and interested, “you don’t need to hurt people, not really.”

“Mm, you’re right, we don’t need to,” Seonghwa leans forward, elbows on his knees. “We like to, though, me and Hongjoong.”

Your breath catches in your throat. They don’t look any less unsure at your hesitation, only curious, like they’ve waited their entire lifetimes for your answer. You stare at Seonghwa, and then Hongjoong - where have you seen these eyes before?

“L-like,” You stammer, “in what way?”

“Do you know what a little vampire blood does to a human, love?” The taller man’s voice captures your attention. “Just a little bit - not nearly enough to turn you - can make you a horny little love. Even pain feels good. Anything feels good. It can make you beg, even when you’ve cum so much your cunt feels numb, did you ever hear that?”

You stare. You hadn’t heard that, no, but now the idea of the two was seeming even more enticing, if it was possible. 

“If you want us to stop, you can tell us to stop,” Hongjoong offers you, and it’s comforting knowing that they’re not totally deranged, but you would never want to tell them to stop. Crossing your legs, you take another sip of the other man’s drink and hand it back to him - his gloves brush you on the way and you don’t know what it is but you want more, inhaling deep, swallowing hard enough for them to notice. He beams, and you swear his eyes flash red for a second, “ooh, I don’t think you do though, do you?”

They notice everything, and you feel like you can’t hide at all.

“So, would you like some, sweetheart?” Hongjoong’s voice is closer now, right at your ear, and it sends shivers through you, down to the tips of your toes. “I think you’d be gorgeous with us inside you,” a thinly veiled innuendo, but you moan too easily, and he laughs, excited with something you’re a little scared of underneath, “mm, why don’t you come here, let me have a look at you properly.”

He’s already had enough of a look, you think, sat next to you for so long, but he pats his lap and you follow. Slinging one leg over his lap, completely ignorant to the happenings of the nightclub behind you, you face Hongjoong. He grips your jaw with two gloved fingers, turning you this way and that like he’s not just going to devour you as soon as he can. 

In fact, he leans in just a little closer to look at your eyes, at the way they dilate from something - arousal, fear - and you swear you see two pointy teeth come out to nip at a surly lower lip. His legs spread further, and with the movement you feel him dig into your core underneath your dress, making you squirm where you’re sat. He’s already hard. You wonder if Seonghwa is, too, and the idea of having these two vampires so hot for you… your gut burns.

“Pretty,” He murmurs, and one thumb comes out to dip between your lips, past them into your mouth. It runs over your tongue, and you taste the buttery leather - it doesn’t taste of a lot, the rum perhaps, and he knocks your mouth open to look at your teeth. “Look at these,” he smiles, and you can’t help it; you nip his teeth, gentle but teasing, and he gasps playfully, falling for it, “wow. She bites, Hwa.”

“That’s nice,” He says, almost uninterested. When he crowds into your space, front against your back, you feel his cock, hard and firm against your back that tells you he’s very much interested. He takes your chin from Hongjoong’s hold to pull your head back towards him. You gaze at him upside down, and he smiles, gentle but threatening, “do you want some of this now, love?”

He’s holding a vial, small and clear, with a red liquid moving around inside. This time, you’re sure it’s blood, and you’re even more sure that it’s vampire blood like they were talking about earlier. One of theirs, you presume, but you’re too eager to question it - your lips part, tongue lolling out dumbly as he pops off the cap. Both men look delighted at your eagerness, Seonghwa letting out a little noise of appreciation as he grips your chin.

The cap falls somewhere and rolls on the floor, neither of the men questioning it as Hongjoong’s hands move to your waist to keep you steady. Seonghwa’s fingers hold you more firmly, and he taps once, twice, on the end of the vial, two drops of metallic hitting your tastebuds that have you wanting to screw your face up. 

Your head immediately rocks back forwards, eyes scrunching shut as you adjust to the taste. While your ears ring, Hongjoong leans back, gets more comfortable against the sofa and you feel the telltale dip of Seonghwa settling next to him. It’s overwhelming for a moment, and you swallow hard, hoping to get rid of the taste; it’s too much, too strong, too-

Oh.

“Oh my god,” Your hands go to Hongjoong’s chest before you can help yourself, and this time they both watch your pupils dilate, eyes fixated way too intently on yours. A telltale burning spins in your gut, like the same feeling you get when you’ve been building an orgasm and you’re finally, finally about to let go, except the bubble never pops - your hands move eagerly, impulsively. You’re rocking your hips before you can help it, grinding your cunt down against that bulge you’d tried so hard to ignore, sharp whine hitting your ears before you realise you’ve opened your mouth, “fu-uck, oh my- oh, please-”

“How much did you give her, Hwa?” Hongjoong’s voice is gruff, but not at all displeased, his hands moving down the slope of your waist to the plush of your hips, fingers digging in. The pressure guides you to move against him and you feel feverish, desperate, head falling back as your hips fuck forwards. Your pussy starts to slick in your panties, messy and pathetic and ultimately untouched despite your intense movements against his clothed erection, and it builds and builds and never pops.

“Two drops,” Hwa muses, voice level, staring at where you buck against his friend. Your dress rocks up properly from the movement, exposing your panties and where you’re leaking through the fabric, onto Hongjoong’s undoubtedly expensive leather trousers. You run your hands down, over the plush pectorals and over his arms and back down to his belt - even touching him like this feels euphoric, your mouth opening in another strangled noise.

Hongjoong chuckles, seemingly unaffected by your frantic behaviour, “That’s all it took? She really is a slut, isn’t she? Gonna let us bite you tonight too, pretty?”

The idea makes your head spin, and you nod eagerly, “G’na- gonna let you bite me, if you want, would’ve anyway-”

“Would you, little love?” Seonghwa says, and it’s the first time he sounds affected, eyes flickering to the curve of your neck. He reaches over with slender fingers to brush the hair off of your neck, exposing the skin there, and runs one fingernail up as if he can’t wait to split it open. “Isn’t that good to know, Joong?” He’s pleased, lips curving, “she’s just that eager. I think she’d let us do anything to her.”

Seonghwa’s teeth poke out, and you gasp, nodding, eager. Hongjoong’s hand moves suddenly to your neck where his friend’s lips lay, covering the flesh where he intended to bite you, eyeing his friend with a loaded glance. 

“I think we need to go home,” he gushes, too fast, a little more panicked than you’ve heard him. The vampire at your neck pauses, before he seems to come back into himself and hum deeply. “Hwa,” Hongjoong murmurs, “you can’t do that here, you know that.”

The other man tilts his head, considering, “Let’s take her back to ours.”

It’s said without an ounce of thought as to what you’d want to do, but you assume they know, can tell by the way your hands roam on Hongjoong and you grab Seonghwa’s waist with one hand, pulling him into you both, hips bucking in short, stuttered movements.

The shorter man huffs out a laugh, hand weaving through your hair and pulling, just slightly. “I think she likes that idea,” his hand smooths down your dress, over your tummy, landing on the soft plush at the bottom, “this little pussy can’t help but move on me, can it? So pathetic.”

You wail. If you grind just right, rubbing your clit against his leather trousers you swear you can cum, if he gives you a little bit, grinds up into you, keeps talking to you like that. He seems to know that’s all you’d need to fall over, and he nudges you off his lap with his knuckles and stands up straight like his cock isn’t tenting his pants. It looks big, thick and promising and your legs fall apart without realising, exposing what’s underneath your dress - simple, cotton panties that are definitely soaked.

Just a few blocks away, Seonghwa says. He seems decisive that you’re coming back with them after your little show, and you wouldn’t have it any other way - you follow them out of the club, leaving the bottles and glasses behind you like they own the place, and you briefly see Jihyo and Sana occupied with their own counterparts for the night. Oh well, you suppose a text will suffice - they seemed to have thought you were safe enough with these men, and although you’re not too sure, you’re the one trailing behind them outside of the club with a stupid little smile on your face.

As soon as you’re outside, Seonghwa lights a cigarette and Hongjoong hands him a lighter from his pocket. The fresh air has you feeling a little clearer, vampire blood wearing off, but surely you can’t be seeing a vampire smoke right now. 

“Can you even get addicted to things?” You blurt.

Hongjoong’s eyebrow lilts. “It’s a habit. He smoked when he was human, and he still smokes now.”

He inhales, scratching the back of his head before pointing down the street. You suppose Hongjoong’s right, but it still makes you laugh. He sets off on the journey, leaving you and Hongjoong walking behind him. You’re a lot less colder than earlier with your liquid confidence but the man next to you still takes his leather jacket off and puts it over your shoulders wordlessly, hand wrapping around your waist, keeping you steady and warm. 

They were right - it really was a few blocks away, their house, and you’re affronted by how normal it looks.

Their house is modern; it’s sleek and dark and tempting, just like its owners, but painfully normal, and you kick off your uncomfortable shoes at the door next to a potted plant. Without your heels, you feel at a disadvantage, shorter than you were before, but you have no other choice than to walk in and make yourself at home. The sofa is a lot more comfortable than the one in the club, softer fabric and not dipping as much when you sit on it, and Hongjoong walks over to their kitchen and pulls out three glasses. 

You wonder if they do this a lot, bringing pretty humans home and taking them apart so nicely they can’t think of anything other than coming back, staying forever, being theirs. It’s already on your mind and they haven’t even touched you properly yet. 

Seonghwa sits next to you, legs akimbo. You’re able to see them better now that you’re out of the club, lighting bright - it would be too jarring if they weren’t so fucking beautiful. Turning to Seonghwa, your eyes follow the soft slope of his nose, down to full, plush lips that form as he has a conversation with his friend; you’re not paying attention, wanting so earnestly that you think you might die before they touch you. 

A glass of something - whiskey, you think - is placed down on the glass coffee table in front of you, but you don’t touch it, preferring to focus on the men. Hongjoong gives Seonghwa a glass and he sips it, humming at the taste before he finally turns towards you. 

His voice cuts through the tension, “What do you want us to do to you tonight?”

What do you want them to do? That’s something you can answer, moreso now that you’ve got your wits about you again, eyes flickering to his lips to give him enough nonverbal consent as you can - you want them to do fucking everything. 

With another sip of his drink, he stands up sharply, offering you a hand. Hongjoong’s already gone somewhere, you realise, the shorter man gone from the living room. 

Taking Seonghwa’s hand before you can doubt yourself, you decide you’ve already come this far, and he takes you further, leading you down the hallway to the bedroom. Every joke you had stored about vampires not sleeping dies on your lips as soon as you see it, the large bed and pretty much nothing else in the room. The bedposts are clad in canopies just like the club, the mattress clad in dark, satin sheets and with one of your men for the night perched on the edge. He looks satisfied, like he knew this was coming, and Seonghwa leads you to sit on the bed.

“If you need us to stop at any point-”

“I know,” You cut the taller man off, situating in front of him on the bed. The vampire blood has pretty much worn off by now but your gut is still clenching, arousal building up from the simple idea of you having these two men at once, although you can’t help all of the questions you still have. “Do you do this often?”

“Do what often?” Hongjoong says from in front of you, lips curling up like he knows exactly what you mean.

Seonghwa’s hands move to your dress, pulling the fabric up just enough to your waist to expose your panties. “Um,” you start, breath heavy, “bring- bring humans back, and-”

“Oh, that?” He says, eyes dropping to between your legs. You’re know you’ve soaked through the cotton already, and you’re definite his eyes flicker red this time, telling you that he sees it. You squirm with embarrassment. “No, we don’t. Humans break too easy.”

“More like you’re too heavy-handed,” Seonghwa murmurs like an afterthought. His hands roam over your body, too warm for someone who’s meant to be cold. His fingers hook in your panties, teasing, and Hongjoong sips on his drink, content to watch for now. “Should I take these off?”

“Yeah,” you mumble, and Hongjoong’s head tilts. Without him needing to say anything, you straighten up a little, toes curling into the sheets, “yes, please, Seonghwa.”

The “good girl” you get from them both is enough to make you preen, and the man behind you rewards you with taking off your panties, like he was waiting for his friend to tell him he was allowed.

“Keep this up for me,” he motions, and your hands move to your dress, obediently holding it up just enough to show your core. You’re wet, you can feel it - the arousal slicks up to your swollen bud and down past your pussy, dripping to the other hole between your asscheeks. It’s killing you that neither of them are touching you, so content with waiting, letting you feel the tension.

Seonghwa’s fingers finally dip down between your legs, forming a vee up your folds and just barely brushing against the pudge of your clit - you whine, knuckles whiting where they hold your dress up and Hongjoong just watches, across from you both with the two top buttons of his shirt undone, drink in hand. 

“How’s she looking?” The man behind you says, quiet in your ear but seemingly loud enough for Hongjoong to hear it - he lets out a noise of amusement in response, placing his glass down on the table. It clatters, glass on glass sharp against your ears, and Seonghwa’s fingers continue their inspection; your legs tremble as they slide down to your hole, prodding teasingly, but you’re in such a position that all you can do is sit there and take it, Seonghwa’s forearm firm around your tummy. You’re convinced this was intentional.

Hongjoong rises from his seat, feet heavy as he struts over to the two of you. He’s on his knees in a beat, pretty face only a few inches from your cunt, and your hips buck desperately.

“I’m not eating it, little thing,” He chuckles, reaching up to swipe his own thumb through your arousal, making a few tight, quick circles around your clit. It wracks a moan from your chest, hoarse and so airy you’re a little embarrassed, but he coos at you, “how long have you been this wet? Since before we gave you that blood?”

“W-way before, since- since I saw you,” You admit, chest heaving, and he rewards you a few more circles against your bud. Seonghwa keeps you spread, and when his friend gives you a few more touches at a rhythm that makes your eyes cross he pulls your thigh back towards him, forcing you to take it. “I- it’s so sensitive there, please-”

“Side effect, honey,” Seonghwa says it like you’re stupid, and you nod dumbly because you’d believe anything he said right now, proving his point. “Why don’t you just feel it, hm? Try not to cum though, yeah?”

It feels impossible right now. Hongjoong’s thumb circles your clit, fast and steady like he knows exactly how to take you apart already, and your hole gushes dumbly down onto their bed. You’re making a mess, you know you are, squirming and writhing on a vampire’s lap while his just-as-dangerous friend rubs your pussy better than your own hands ever could, but you can’t help it - you moan and whine and whimper, hands impatiently moving from your dress to grip at Seonghwa’s thighs.

“We told you we’d make you a horny little thing, but this,” Hongjoong eyes your cunt, looking nothing but thrilled, “this is pathetic. I bet you want to cum so bad already, little clit so fucking swollen you can’t take it.”

It brings your brain back to life, remembering what Seonghwa said, digging your nails into the leather on his thighs with a sharp buck of your hips, “w-why- why can’t I cum?”

“Why would you be allowed to cum already?” Seonghwa laughs mirthlessly. “Have you earned it? I don’t think you have.”

Your head spins. Hongjoong presses down further, slides his hand down until he’s pushing two fingers into your pussy, past the initial resistance and deep until he can curve his fingers up, forcing through slick and mess to reach that spot. 

“Mm, she hasn’t,” He says, “all she’s done is been a slut all night. I think she could use learning some manners. Learning how to wait for things, especially.”

His fingers tap against your g-spot and your jaw drops, thighs threatening to close where they’re held apart, voice warbling, “but I w-wanna cum.”

“You do?” Hongjoong laughs, “are you close?”

Voice raising higher, your bottom lip trembles, nodding, the tension in your stomach building with each curl of his fingers, “mmhm!”

His fingers leave you, and although it’s your first proper edge it feels cruel, mean, and your gasp is accompanied by a harsh clenching of your hole around nothing. Slick cascades down your folds, ignored, and you cry out, head rolling on Seonghwa’s shoulder. He shushes you gently, stroking your hair.

“Soon, honey, soon,” He says, and you’re not convinced but you’re still coming down from a denied orgasm and can’t understand fully. “How did that feel?”

“H-hurt,” you strain, and the shorter vampire flicks your clit to laugh at the way you squeak. “It hurt, I- I don’t- I wanna cum-”

His hand still strokes you, kissing at your hairline and down your face until he presses his lips against yours - you hadn’t even realised they hadn’t kissed you but now it feels like a reward, Seonghwa’s tongue claiming your mouth while you lean at an awkward angle to get more. You can’t help the feverish moan you let out, coming down from a harsh edge and being given a pretty man’s lips; it would fully overtake your senses if not for the feeling of the other man moving between your legs. He keeps your jaw positioned against him, hold firm, distracting you with wet, dominating kisses. 

You whimper into his mouth, legs still so open, and the feeling of something wet hitting your folds makes you try to pull away and watch.

“No, don’t you worry about that,” He murmurs, and you see the flickering of his teeth - your back arches, skin almost tingling with the need to have him bite you, drink your blood, be his favourite. He rewards you with a nip to your lower lip, just strong enough to break the skin. As soon as the blood hits his tongue he moans, so deep and strangled that you moan right back, scrambling at his arms.

A wet suck on your pussy, and your hips surge far away from him and towards whatever that was. He finally lets you go, your chin smudged with your own blood, eyes fluttering open to see Hongjoong between your legs. 

His tongue flicks over your clit, fast and precise, eyes moving up to you and landing directly on your to gauge your reaction. 

You’re loud, face crumpling in ecstasy, moans tumbling from your lips quicker than you realise, hand moving to his hair to keep him right there so you can chase it. He lets you, surprisingly enough, groaning at the sensation and rewarding you with his tongue delving deeper into your folds, sucking arousal straight from your hole to spit it back on your pussy again. 

The other man seems to savour the taste of your blood on his tongue, licking over his own lips to make sure that he’s gotten as much as he can before moving from behind you. Without the sturdiness of his body behind you, you’re left to fall against the sheets, and your hands automatically come to the pillow, grabbing and pulling and almost ripping your nails right through the fabric. 

Seonghwa settles between your legs, right next to Hongjoong. You’re not able to question it because he noses at Hongjoong’s cheek until he looks at him with lust-filled eyes, your slick drowning his chin and his surly lips. The loss of stimulation doesn’t have long enough to bother you because the shorter man pulls at Seonghwa’s hair, yanking him towards him and enveloping him in a messy, spit-filled kiss, both of them sharing the taste of your blood and arousal.

“Mm, fuck, tastes good,” He moans, sucking on Seonghwa’s bottom lip. You moan at the sight, hips bucking for something, anything, but the two men continue to fuck each other’s mouths with their tongues, lips meeting in a heavy exchange - they’ve done this before, you’re sure, too natural in the way they take over each other’s lips.

It only lasts a second longer before they’re pulling away, only this time both men’s lips are on you, Seonghwa sucking your labia into his mouth and letting them go with a wet pop. Hongjoong moves up to your clit, sucking it into his mouth harshly and giving you the stimulation you need, almost too much but not enough. Your body starts to slick with sweat, too warm in your dress but unable to do anything but take it, both men’s tongues swirling around your cunt like they’ve done it a million times.

“Oh- oh my god,” you cry out, in disbelief at the sight in front of you. Both men’s heads move against you, mouths wet and sloppy against your core. Seonghwa moves to lick over your clit, quick kitten licks that have you chasing the pleasure, itching to hold them against you - you imagine they wouldn’t let that slide now that they’re both down there, having their fix. Gripping onto the pillow with another sharp noise, you buck your hips against them, staring down at the mess of tongues and slick that ruin you. It feels so good, so messy but so imprecise and if you just have a little bit more on your clit- “fuck, fuck, feels so good, I-”

“You’ll take what you’re fucking given,” Hongjoong pulls off enough to say, and it’s said so simply that there’s no room to argue. You try to stop squirming but you can’t help it, toes curling and messy cunt rocking to meet their mouths, Hongjoong darting his tongue inside your hole to clean you from the inside. The new sensation makes you gasp, fingers tightening where they grip the pillow, and he does it again, again, curling it a little to see the way you moan, loud and broken.

When their eyes flit up to you this time, you’re surprised to see they’re both fully red now, hungry, dangerous. Seonghwa’s fingertips reach your mound, pulling back to expose your clit to their mouths. It’s too much, too sensitive, and when he sucks over it again you realise you’re dangerously close to cumming. A brief, bratty thought flashes through your mind - could you just let go? - but you remember who they are, what they’re giving you, what they’ve promised to do. You’d rather stay on their good sides if it means getting all of that.

“I’m- I’m close again,” you breathe, and Seonghwa hums, sucking on your clit like it’s a damn popsicle. He doesn’t stop, pushing you right to the brink, and the other man reaches up and slides two fingers past your folds just to really torture you. It’s the most difficult thing you’ve ever had to do, avoiding moving so that the tiniest thing doesn’t send you over the edge. You whine when he taps against your g-spot, shaking your head so rapidly you make yourself dizzy, hips trying to crawl away from the pleasure. 

“So good she’s denying herself now,” Seonghwa murmurs, stroking your mound, “don’t be cruel, Joong, look at her trying so hard.”

The man in question does look, eyes round and amused and so red as he watches your struggle. You squirm and writhe until he eventually slides his fingers out, and you fly backwards from the precipice so fast it makes you sob wetly, tears begging to fall from your eyes. Seonghwa pecks your clit softly; Hongjoong doesn’t look bothered, leaning back on his haunches to finally pull some of his clothes off.

You’re exposed to a lot of skin, plush yet firm muscle that begs your hands to touch it when he unbuttons his shirt and throws it to the floor. Seonghwa enters your vision, looming over you and making quick work of your dress - it’s like something goes unsaid, like they know what they both want to do to you and when. It lands on the floor next to Hongjoong’s shirt and you’re moved onto your tummy, automatically scrambling onto your hands and knees with an arch to your back that has the taller man groaning in appreciation.

The sound of a belt buckle is loud, mocking to your ears as you can’t see anything. You hear the sound of fabric hitting the floor again, and then the feeling of a man behind you - not as much of a presence, so you assume Hongjoong, slighter but firmer; heavy-handed too, if the harsh slap he lands on your ass is anything to go by.

Knees crawl closer to you on the bed. Seonghwa positions himself in front of you, shirt now gone too - you wonder when he did that, but you’re so overwhelmed by the men and their two edges have you so dizzy that you can’t question it, mumbling blissfully. You’re able to watch him undo his belt, his trousers being pushed down to his ankles and further onto the floor, his boxers being moved just under his balls to expose his cock.

Seonghwa’s cock is long, thick enough to make your mouth water but not so thick that you think taking him will be a challenge. In fact, your pussy gushes wetly looking at it, the way his tan, erect shaft lays in a smattering of dark hair that leads up to his navel. He grips his base, shows it to you because he can see you can’t stop looking; the way he starts to pump it inches away from your face is cruel. 

You inhale sharply at the feeling of a cockhead swiping through your folds, intentionally teasing but capturing your attention effortlessly. Hongjoong’s hand comes down on the small of your back, firm, “do you want it, sweetheart?”

“Yeees,” you writhe eagerly, Seonghwa’s hand coming into your hair to keep you still. He jerks his shaft inches from your face and moves your head onto his thigh, and you lick your lips, wanting nothing more than to be stuffed from both ends. Will they let you cum now? You have a feeling it’s a no, but still, “want it. Gimme both, lemme- wanna cum on it, please-”

“Greedy bitch,” Hongjoong laughs, using his thumb to push his shaft downwards. The tip just about catches on your hole and you whine, thighs shaking as you try to move back towards him - his hand keeps you still, keeping you between him and his friend of eternity. “What did I tell you?” He asks, and your head spins, unknowing of anything but getting yourself full, “stop thinking with your cunt. We’ll decide when you cum, if you cum.”

He’s playing with you, you’re sure, but you’re also sure that he’s mean enough to leave you high and dry once he’s finished using you if you’re not good. With your eyes fluttering shut, you let out a loud whimper of defeat, and he chuckles again from behind you.

“That’s right, quiet now.”

If Seonghwa’s bothered by his friend’s teasing he doesn’t show it, hand tightening at his head and focusing on pleasuring himself. It’s daunting, the way his head rolls back against the headboard but his eyes stay on you, the strings of drool that fall past your lips at the sight, wetting the sparse hair on his thigh. His grip tightens in your hair, tongue curling over his teeth and you see them, sharp and protruding now, and it’s too much to take.

“Please,” You gasp, “please, please, please, fuck, I’ll beg, I-”

“You are begging,” Hongjoong hums, “it’s not very good, though. Beg better. Beg better for me to shove my cock in your little human pussy.”

It’s embarrassing how quickly you respond. “Mm- mm, fuck, please, please, please, want it so bad, want you to- want you to fuck me, bite me, claim me, please, I’ll be yours, both of you-”

He doesn’t say anything, no praise, no confirmation of your hard work - he slides home in one deep thrust, cock so thick your pussy has to stretch to accommodate it despite his fingers spreading you open earlier. It feels like everything you’ve ever wanted, one thrust taking you apart and putting you back together again, and he doesn’t wait; he starts to fuck you vigorously, hips kicking up a rhythm against the plush of your ass. 

“Tight little thing, aren’t you?” He sounds unaffected, tone level, “wet enough to drip down to my fucking balls, too. How’s it feel?”

“Mm, I- oh, oh-”

“Yeah,” he smiles, and pushes your head onto Seonghwa’s cock. It’s silent permission for you to start, and you immediately surge forwards to suckle around the head. After his teasing it’s leaking pearlescent drops, and you lick straight from the piss slit with your tongue, swirling it around the head with a delighted moan. Seonghwa swallows hard, sighing, and although you want to take your time Hongjoong grips onto your hips tighter and fucks into you so hard your head slides down the other man’s length too quickly, too fast, hitting the back of your throat and making you gag. “Oh, sorry,” he laughs, “did you think you were in control then? Gag on it.”

You moan, delighted, pussy throbbing so hard Hongjoong feels it and lets out a sharp inhale, sucking his teeth. He starts to bounce against you quicker, fucking you down his friend’s cock, and Seonghwa’s hands move to your hair to control your movements a little more. 

Managing to breathe through your nose for the most part, it isn’t too bad, but Seonghwa’s dick is long and it hits the back of your throat so hard you wince and whine through the pain. He bucks his hips upwards, full lips parting in silent, eager little breaths and fucking against the back of your mouth a few more times before he lets you up for air. As soon as your head hits his thigh again, you start whining, too full of Hongjoong’s cock still and Seonghwa laughs breathlessly.

“Shit, you’re just like this, aren’t you?” He grips himself at the base, slapping his cock against your cheek, “don’t even need the blood,” he murmurs, in awe, “you’re just this fucking desperate.”

Hongjoong’s thumb slides down, just barely passing over where his cock stretches you, and the extra stimulation reminds you of your ruined orgasms. You begin to babble something incoherent, some form of pleading, and he sighs wetly and hooks it into your gummy hole alongside his shaft. The stretch is too much - you let out a loud squeal, feet kicking where they lay and he has to pin you down with his hips while Seonghwa teases himself in front of you, starting to strip his shaft again. 

You land on your tummy, Hongjoong fucking into you without abandon, and the sheets just barely brush against the pudge of your clit. Suddenly, you’re sobbing, too sensitive and too close, trying to writhe away from the pleasure but the pressure of his body keeps you there. 

“I- too much, please, I’m close-”

“Just a little more,” Seonghwa groans, forcing his cockhead past your lips again, “suck on this and stay quiet, honey.”

You’re barely suckling on it, but it’s something to focus on while you try to quell your orgasm. Your thighs burn and your cunt drools but you have to be good, have to do what they say, or- well, you’re not sure, but the need to please them is stronger than any need you have to cum. Seonghwa moves your head on his shaft, softly up and down just to keep him sated for now, and you hum and whine around a full mouth.

“F-fuck, yeah, gonna cum,” Hongjoong breathes, and it’s the first time you hear him sound affected. His hips snap into your ass, eyes fixated on the way the flesh ripples every time, and he fucks inside of your wet cunt a few more times before he pulls out with a sharp inhale. You hear the sound of him stripping his shaft, slick wet noises that make your ears turn red because you’re responsible for that, and on a tight grip upwards you feel the beginnings of his release. “Fuck, yeah, mm- there you go, honey, t-there you go.”

He sounds almost soft, but you know better, the hot strips of his white cum burning his mark into the small of your back. It drips down your skin when you squirm from the feeling of it, and he smears it down to your ass, messy and territorial. 

Seonghwa pulls you down to the base of his shaft once more, so deep your eyes water, and then he rips your head up by your hair sharply. 

“On your back,” He urges, cheeks flushed and teeth permanently out now, so sharp but alluring. They nip at your jugular when you listen to him, rolling onto your back despite the mess undoubtedly staining their bedsheets. He pushes your thigh back to your chest, long hair cascading over his forehead, gripping the base of his dick firmly, just barely angled downwards to your pussy, “do you want it, my love?”

“Please,” you groan, hole sore but so desperate, clenching rhythmically where it tries to pull him inside. “Please, give it to me, please-”

“I’m not that mean,” He murmurs, clearly referring to his counterpart - Hongjoong only laughs, sprawled on the bed naked with his cock softening against his muscled thigh. The sight causes a fire to burn in your gut; you want them both again, but you’re also very aware of the fact you haven’t cum yet, and Seonghwa seems like he might give that to you. With your leg pulled back, you’re spread open, and from Hongjoong’s ministrations it doesn’t take a lot to shove his cock inside, impatient and longer than the last one you took, so deep it knocks into your cervix when he’s fully inside and you squeal, hands moving to his shoulders for purchase. “Fuck, you are wet,” he says, other hand moving to your tummy to keep you flat, “how much of that is from our blood?”

“I-” he starts moving, and you gasp sharply, eyebrows knitting in a moan of pleasure. He’s good at this, just like Hongjoong was, and after a few hesitant thrusts he’s able to aim specifically at the spot that makes your eyes cross. “Fuck, I- it’s just from you, please-”

“I know, I know, I shouldn’t tease you,” He coos, hand smoothing over your hair. He starts to fuck you quicker, rocking against you at such a pace that you can’t help the way your orgasm starts to build already, pussy gushing a river and smearing over his pubes, his happy trail, his thighs. You start to buck your hips from the delicious sight, clit burning with need, hands gripping onto him for dear life. “I’m gonna let you,” he says, like he knows you were wondering, “you’ve waited so long, hm? I know, baby, let me make it happen.”

It’s a promise that he makes quick work of, both of his hands pushing your legs into a vee. It allows him to fuck you deeper, shaft slick as it moves in and out of you, his lips parting in a moan as he watches it. It doesn’t take long to get the same sensation Hongjoong gave you, hands gripping your trembling thighs as he picks up the pace, “Fuck, so warm, how did you- how did you last so long?”

“I didn’t get my cock sucked by her,” Hongjoong says, head tilting as he perceives you. Your eyes water, so close but not allowed to let go until they say, and he smiles, pleased, “looks like she’s broken in now, Hwa. She’s gonna cry for it.”

“Oh, yeah?” Seonghwa’s breath stutters, thumb and finger gripping your cheeks and squishing them like he’s scolding a child. A shiver runs through you at the treatment, tears spilling over, and your arousal starts to cream at the base of his cock, a white ring that has him groaning. “Should we let you cum, honey? Have you earned it?”

“Have, I have,” you manage, nails digging deep, and he groans at the feeling, kissing you again so hard his teeth bite against your lower lip without him meaning to. When he tastes your blood again he sucks it, straight from the plush of your lip, something painful that has your orgasm threatening to break, about to shatter you from the inside out - you can’t take it anymore, writhing, humping your cunt on his cock, “please, I- I can’t, I’m gonna-”

Seonghwa doesn’t look at his friend for permission this time. He pulls away, mouth slick with the dark red, metallic liquid, and starts to rock into you so hard you start to cry. His cock hits that spot inside you deliciously, over and over, more intense than anything you’ve felt in your life, and you can’t even warn him. Your pussy starts to quiver, walls clenching around him in warning, and he doesn’t stop, fucking you in just the right way to pull you over the edge with him.

“F-fuck, I-” you gasp, trembling. The sensation overwhelms every single one of your senses, finally letting go after so long of being their plaything, and your cunt clenches down hard on his cock as you cum. It’s so tight it stops him from moving, but he grinds his pubic bone against you in small, aborted thrusts, just enough to keep you writhing and riding it out, moaning high and airy in your throat. 

Your hole relaxes once you’ve finished soaking him, rivulets of wet stringing his pubes together and his breath hits your neck. He starts to fuck you without abandon again, your pussy screaming in overstimulation but you want him to cum so badly you’d take it three times over, legs falling uselessly against the bed, nails scratching down his torso.

“Just a b-bit more, my love,” he sounds apologetic, his thrusts proving otherwise, cock digging into your cervix hard. You whine, and he kisses the noise away, smearing blood over your lips, dropping his head back to your neck. If you focus on the pleasure enough, you’re sure that you can come again, but another sensation distracts you - Hongjoong, the other side of your neck, still naked and still soft but with something else flickering in those red eyes. 

You realise too late. Soft lips press against either side in a gentle kiss, one each, and then two sets of teeth dig in hard enough to break skin. Seonghwa pulls out, cumming messily on your pussy in his way of marking you, and the two men let out satisfied groans when your blood hits their tastebuds.

You wonder if this is what they wanted all along. As your vision goes black, you realise it’s definitely what you wanted. 

Waking up, you blink sleep out of your eyes. It was clearly a good sleep, because god, you feel heavy, limbs tired and taking what feels like an age to move. While they warm up you notice the taste in your mouth, something sour that tells you that you may have drunk more than you remember because you had definitely forgotten to brush your teeth last night.

Speaking of last night… you’re still trying to wake up, but it seems to be a bit of a blur. You remember getting to the club with your friends, and talking a bit with those men, and then having a few more drinks, and then… what happened then? It feels like a dream, like you didn’t really go, like the entire night wasn’t real. When you open your eyes, you’ll surely see the same walls of your bedroom, the same pyjamas you wore the night before-

You open your eyes, and you’re definitely not in your bedroom.

Where your room has your band posters and desk with all of your trinkets, you seem to be in some sort of extension of the nightclub you were in last night, room draped with dark reds and black satins. The bed is the comfiest thing you’ve had the pleasure of laying on, where the mattress and blanket seem to dip and cling wherever you move like sand, and although the burgundy canopy obscures your vision you can see other furniture around the room. Dark wood mostly fills the room up, solid, sturdy furniture that looks as clean as it is old, and there’s a man sitting in the corner of the room staring at you.

There’s a man sitting in the corner of the room staring at you.

With the survival instincts of a gnat, you surge forwards and yank the canopy away, facing your intruder. Unmoving, he stares at you knowingly and you blink wildly, hair sticking up every which way, before it comes to you.

“Seonghwa,” you murmur, “shit, I almost-”

“Almost forgot?” He says, amused, “it happens. How did you sleep?”

“Amazingly,” you admit, “I-”

Something clicks in your brain. When you turn around, looking behind you, a shorter man with a pleased little smile is gazing at you, not at all tired and with something in his eyes that has your gut burning again. 

You remember. Two men- no, not men, two vampires, and they took you apart and made you cum so good that you never want to leave. Is this what everyone had been warning you about? 

Seonghwa rises from his seat. “Did you want anything for food? You must be starving, love.”

It has you faltering. Starving. You are starving, but there’s something else to it, a carnal need that can only be sated by-

“Get back into bed,” you urge. Seonghwa doesn’t look surprised, already moving to the canopy and pulling it aside to let himself onto the mattress. “I- can we-”

Hongjoong tuts, “You really are dumb. All it took was one good fucking, huh? Now you’re running away with the bad men, nowhere to be seen ever again-”

You grip him by the forearm, pulling him on top of you. Instead of showing shock, his grin forms predatory, slow like it has all the time in the world, and you see those two teeth poking out again. It reminds you of last night, and your eyes flicker to your chest, where you can see the remnants of a plethora of two-prong shaped holes.

“I want it again,” you blurt, “want more-”

“Right,” Seonghwa grins, decisive, crawling onto the bed. He’s already ridding his shirt again, exposing planes of tan skin that make your mouth water. His teeth stick out at you, something that should be threatening but it only causes you to whimper in need. “And you know how to ask nicely, don’t you? Not as dumb as you pretend to be.”

Hongjoong finds this amusing.