#atz x reader

and when he gets invited to a big party once again, he tells his friends he’s “not in the mood” or when wooyoung comments about another girl looking at him, he says “already got someone,” even though they know he hasn’t slept with you. a little suspicious because mingi never turns down a party or a one-night stand. what’s worse than being teased nonstop by your closest ones: aww, the big bad boy has gone soft, isn't he adorable?

making out with him is messy and heated. he is so desperate, kisses lingering too long, biting your lip like he’s trying not to let you go. whines when you pull away, laughs breathlessly when you tease him about how horny he gets.

you’re not mocking him about it; you still curl into his side and melt under his touch. and still kiss him goodnight when you have to leave the party, so you just don’t let him take that last step.

mingi waits, patient in the way only someone completely interested and hooked can be, knowing that when you finally say yes, whenever that is, it’ll mean something.

because you didn’t give him your body right away, as every girl did before. you made him fall first, turned the one who was chases into the chaser, and now he needs you in a painfully obvious way.

FRATBOY!MINGI has been fed with only breadcrumbs for the past few months.

kisses that linger just long enough to make his head spin. your fingers brushing his wrist, his hands, the hem of his hoodie, and then pulling away right when he leans in. sitting too close on purpose, knees touching, whispering things meant only for him in crowded rooms. letting him feel wanted, but never satisfied.

a perfect little cat-and-mouse game.

mingi is visibly fascinated by it. he gets quieter around other girls, less interested, and less playful. all his energy funnels into you; every party ends with him finding you. every night ends with him asking you if you’re coming over, and you smiling, saying, “sorry, not tonight,” and you watch how his smile turns into a frown, muttering something like, “yeah, i think i’m not going either. next time, then?”

then comes the group project, and how you end up meeting san and wooyoung at the library, one of his closest friends, and mingi isn’t there yet, running late, and somehow the conversation drifts to him.

san laughs first, peeking from his laptop. “you know he’s down bad, right?”

you barely look up from your notes, not interested, but you are secretly nosy about it. “yeah, like i haven't heard that before. he just likes to talk about girls.”

wooyoung snorts. “no, seriously. he hasn’t touched anyone since you.”

that gets your attention as san nods, more serious now. “he turns girls down, like… actually turns them down. all he talks about is you.”

“or he likes bragging about body count, feeding his ego...typical men, no offence.”

wooyoung shakes his head, putting his hands in a ‘timeout’ like position. “nah, this is different. he doesn’t even brag about his sex life anymore…instead, he gets stupid when your name comes up.”

“he thinks you believe him that he will use you for one night, and that’s going to be it,” san adds as he notices you suddenly stopped writing with your pen, “and that scares him more than you saying no.”

when mingi finally shows up, slightly out of breath, eyes immediately locking onto you, as he puts your favorite sweet treats over your textbook, your heart suddenly does a whole 180-degree loop. you see it now, the way his face softens, and he wears glasses? the way his shoulders drop, looking relieved just seeing you there, and that boyish smile appears on his stupid, handsome face… it makes you feel things.

later, when you’re walking out together, he gently taps your shoulder, scared about such a simple thing, because he wanted to ask you out on a date. opening his mouth, closing it, and rubbing the back of his neck, and all that came was: “what’d i miss?”

and suddenly, he doesn’t look like a party animal at all, more like the shy and clumsy nerd. cute, you think, a total loser in the best way.

“nothing,” you say, hiding everything you learned about him, while leaning and pressing a quick kiss to his cheek, and pulling back before he can react. “don’t slack off, tho. do your part of the project, okay?”

behind the corner, san and wooyoung watch him lift a hand to his cheek like he’s never been kissed before in his life, even if you kissed a million times already, blinking as you disappear down the hall.

yeah, he’s done for.

the moment mingi starts dressing like a normal person instead of a guy who forgets what shirts are, that’s when everyone knows — he’s serious about you.

FRATBOY!MINGI and you don’t even know if it’s because you’re both wasted, or because you tug his hand and try to pull him away from the crowd, clinging to him in a way you never have before. you’ve never been this affectionate, so obvious, and it finally clicks for him when you lean in and whisper, all soft and needy, “can we go somewhere else… just the two of us?”

mingi doesn’t even stand a chance, especially not with that face of yours, that voice, and the look in your eyes. he nods immediately, letting you lead him through the house until you find a bedroom, door lock included, thank god, and even better, untouched, clean sheets waiting.

and the second the door clicks shut, you’re onto him.

jumping into his arms like you’ve been waiting months for this moment, hormones spiking higher than mount everest, body buzzing, and he finds it insanely hot. for once, he is grateful for getting absolutely wasted because what do you mean the girl he likes finally gives him the whole loaf of bread, warm and fresh, instead of just the crumbs? and you, you're so beautiful that you make him wonder if he really wants to feel you physically, and not emotionally. but the fact that your hands are everywhere, mouths crashing together, kissing messy and desperate, saliva shared as clothes disappear piece by piece.

before he can even think, you’re both naked, his body pressed against yours, his cock lined up at your wet folds…finally going in his dream destination.

you’re nervous, but brave. a virgin who somehow knows more than you should, cheeks warm from the alcohol you drank just for courage. 

he is buzzing with adrenaline, the kind that makes his hands shake just a little when he realizes what this means. yeah, he’s had sex before, sure, had his first time with a pretty classmate of his a few years ago, but this is his actual first time with the girl he actually likes. the one he waited for without even realizing he was waiting.

“you sure ’bout it, baby?” he murmurs, mouth brushing your collarbone, breath hot as his hands tighten instinctively when you move, excitement and anxiety mixing in your body. he knows how important this is for you, and how you’ve been saving yourself for someone worth this moment. “’cause once i start… i won’t be able to stop. shit– never seen such a pretty pussy before.”

when he pushes inside, slow and careful, you feel the stretch immediately. he’s big, bigger than you expected, everything deliberate, meant to make you feel safe instead of rushed. clinging to his shoulders, whining and gasping as he takes his time, letting you adjust, easing himself deeper inch by inch, he’s completely focused on you.

when he finally starts moving, slow thrusts find a rhythm, creating a tempo both of you would enjoy. all you can do is pant and moan, angelic sounds mixing with the faint clinks of his chains and necklaces. your eyes sting with tears, overwhelmed by the reality since you’re really letting him have you. yes, him. song mingi, the infamous fratboy who’s been hopelessly in love with you for months, who’s proven over and over that he’s serious, that this isn’t another game.

and then he whimpers.

actually whimpers like all soft and broken sounds that spill from him, even though he’s the one in control. it’s absurdly hot, with him dominant, needy, praising you breathlessly while still feeding his own ego because he can’t help it.

that boy moves knowing exactly what he’s doing. the way his hips roll, so controlled, aware when to press hard, the way his body stays perfectly in sync with yours: it’s obvious he’s experienced. and yeah, he uses that as an advantage, not to show off, because he wants you to feel good, and special. every movement is intentional, every deep thrust of his body meant to pull another sound from you, another reaction or orgasm. it’s overwhelming because no one has ever put this much care into making you feel wanted, loved, cherished, and most importantly, desired.

what gets him, though, is how fast he loses himself in the pleasure you offer him. mingi’s never been like this before. never came so quickly, or felt so affected by someone else’s body, reactions, personality, hence their trust. and instead of him being embarrassed that he is no better than that nerd yunho, who has been throwing not-so-secret glances at you during classes, can’t even hold a conversation without saying something uncanny, a total fucking weirdo, and visibly a big simp for you… he just accepts it, meaning, he’s in deep, metaphorically and realistically.

from there, it blurs like the alcohol in your system. bodies moving in sync, positions changing every five minutes, by the time you realize how wrecked you are, you’ve already come more times than you can count. limbs shaking, head spinning, mingi still holding you, but he pulls back just long enough to look at you, eyes filled with so much love and lust.

“neither of us will probably remember a single thing in the morning,” he confesses, voice low and husky, “some random dude knocking on the door, waking us up… but fuck that. tonight, you’re mine.”

he cups your face, kisses you again, hands sliding down to your hips, tracing every curve. “so… i’m gonna make you cum again,” he whispers, thumb brushing your clit, with his dick still inside you at a faster pace, with this stimulation it will help you come faster. “at least once more before… yes, baby, i know you’re tired, but i want to have you… properly, without worrying about being in someone else’s house, okay?”

his fingers and cock work in perfect sync, teasing, and pressing, rubbing, until your legs shake. “fuck– yes… harder… please, m-mingi harder,” you moan, and then you are clenching around him, screaming his name as your stomach twists, “mingi, please, ah—!”

mingi groans, head dropping to your shoulder, body trembling as he holds and talks you through it.

he’s never heard anything like it. never seen a girl come so desperately, so loudly, so completely on his stupid, big cock. his hands grip your hips tighter, murmuring praise between ragged breaths: “shit… you’re so perfect… so fucking mine…”

FRATBOY!MINGI has never invited a girl back to his apartment before. honestly, he’s never left a party this fast, either. he helps you dress after he dresses himself; his movements are clumsy, slipping his jacket over your shoulders to show everyone that you are his. he wipes your thighs with something, the sheets maybe, he doesn’t even check. big hands stay firm on your waist, mouth trailing along your neck, pulling you back into him every chance he gets, and you can feel how hard he already is again through his pants. it frustrates him because he wants more but knows better.

he’s drunk, but he’s forcing his brain to work somehow, because one thing is crystal clear: he needs privacy, and can’t wait another second.

you expect the smell of cigarettes and spirt when the door opens. drunk people everywhere, couples making out, bodies pressed together in dark corners. instead, it’s quiet, and then you see someone.

standing there with a plastic cup in his hand, frozen like he’s been caught eating those godforsaken cookies from the jar. mingi’s mouth is still on your neck mid-kiss. your hands resting over his when NERD!YUNHO stares like he’s just walked into something he was never supposed to see, and so the cup slips from his fingers, clattering to the floor as he swallows hard.

mingi finally looks up, so annoyed and irritated, throwing him a sharp, territorial glare. “get lost,” he snaps. “the hell are you staring at?”

it doesn’t even register at first. the fratboy doesn’t recognize him, because in his head, yunho is just some awkward guy, a background character — a nobody. someone who shouldn’t look like that, so stylish and handsome that it makes you, his girl, stare for even more than a second.

and whose party was this again? yeonjun’s? he doesn’t know, or care.

mingi drags you toward the stairs, fingers laced with yours, already halfway gone. you follow behind him, but something makes you look back.

your head is still foggy, but you know exactly who it is now. the smart guy who helped you study for that impossible exam, the one who smiled nervously when you thanked him, since he stayed late explaining formulas when everyone else gave up. he was actually cute, you thought, and his ears went bright red when you complimented him on his academic achievements.

then you smile sweetly at him, mouthing a soft bye, as he’s still standing there, cup forgotten, watching you go with an expression he hopes you never see him with. looking nothing like the awkward nerd everyone assumes he is. and if mingi knew the truth, that yunho was your first, long before tonight, he wouldn’t be pulling you away so confidently.

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It wasn’t always like this. Harsh thoughts, even harsher stares. Whispers of curiosity and sly disgust. Questioning how you had a in that most girls would be fighting tooth and nail for.

There were moments, mostly when you were young, when life was simple, peaceful even. But now, as you ran through the crowded halls, no club, no place, no status to help you, you slowly started to come to a sense of acceptance that you were going to be invisible forever… a bookworm amongst the elite.

“Come on, one night.” You groan as you hear your best friend since childhood, Jongho, grumble through your phone. You were currently lying on your comforter, textbook after textbook scattering across the tops of your desk and bed. As you prep for… well, nothing really. Exams are over for the season. ‘I’m just getting prepared for next term,' you’d say, more to yourself than your friend… 'Can't be too ready…' Okay, now you were pushing it…

“Come on, it’ll be fun. The guys love having you around… No overly loud party. Just us all celebrating the end of exam week.” Jongho’s buttery voice made your insides turn. ‘Love having you around' the words replied in your head a thousand times. They probably only “like” you because they have to put up with you for Jongho's sake.

You hated how right your thoughts sounded right. You hated how you fell for their sirened words every time.

“Fine.” You sighed, knowing you wouldn’t win a fight with your teddy bear of a friend.

“Yes! Also…” His voice vibrated your ringing ears. “Seonghwa got you something.”

“Seong—” Your voice cuts off into a choking fit, saliva betraying you as you try to breathe. “H-hwa.. got..why would he..—Shit can't talk now. I'm about to go on, I'll see you later.”

And just like that, his goodbye was quicker than his hello, and you were stuck in the silence once more. Only this time you were stuck with the looming thoughts, Why did Seonghwa get you something and more importantly… You thought he hated you.

The walk over to the frat house was long and cold. The campus felt like a ghost town now that everyone had cleared out from the game earlier. The last play of the season, with some of the boys from ATZ frat house coming out on top. You've only ever been to one. When Jongho finally convinced you to show up for it to cheer him, Mingi, and Yunho on. But that soon led to you being cornered behind the bleachers by a group of popular girls that were determined to know how you were so close to all the ATZ boys.

How you… could possibly have anything they don't. They were all drop-dead gorgeous, tall with long thin legs, and had perfect faces that matched their perfect styles. They were the object of everyone's desire. People either wanted to be them or be with them… except you. You were nothing.

You didn't wear heavy, flawless makeup. You didn't wear tightly formed clothes. You weren't the it girl or the talented cheerleader… You were just… you.

The sidewalks that are normally filled to the brim with caffeinated, no-sleep, most likely on some sort of medication students were now mere echoes of your footsteps right up until the scuffs of your boots at the base of the frat house steps. You stared at the door for what felt like an eternity, questioning if you should just ditch and go back to the safety of your dorm surrounded by text books and fantasy novels…at least they wouldn’t judge you.

“You gonna stay out here all night, sweetheart. Or are you gonna come in.” The deep, almost sultry voice catches you off guard. It was only when you refocused your eyes that you noticed San leaning against the small porch fence with a lit cigarette in hand. His eyes were piercing and his smile subtle—being here for performing arts and a modeling/Image consultant program—he most certainly fits his major. "Well, are you?”

Heat flushed as you realised you had been staring at him for a little too long for your liking. “Y-yes. I’m coming.” … His smirk grew intensely.

Wrong choice of words idiot.

You huffed out a breath before walking straight for the front door, leaving Mr Perv outside to tend to his smoke. Upon walking in, you took in the strong stench of weed and liqour.. The gathering, as Jongho put it, must have started early. "Aye, there's the sweetest sweetheart!!" Mingi hollers from the couch as you rounded the corner.

“Hey.” You whisper out, holding your sides while your arms stay firmly crossed together.

“You need a drink. Let me get you a drink!” Mingi tries to sit up, but he stumbles, already half drunk. Hearing a crash, both Yeosang and Wooyoung come rushing out of the adjoining kitchen, one firmly holding a pot lid while the other holds a spoon.

"What's the damage?” Wooyoung shouted, thinking something was broken… Again. You couldn't help but crack a smile, watching the boys fumble and flail to get Mingi back on the couch.

“Only Mingi’s pride…” A smooth, roaring presence shifted behind you. His voice almost as dark as his slight smile. You knew it was him before you saw him. Shifting your head slowly, your gaze drags up, long elegant legs draped with loose black sweats, matching compression-T on the slickest waist before landing on piercing eyes. Eyes that made you hot. Eyes that made you go mad.

“H-hi Hwa.” You mentally cringe at yourself for using the nickname you always hear the boys use. It wasn’t something you called him. Idiot. Idiot. Idiot. Seonghwa seemed to notice your uncomfortability instantly, his pupils expanding at the idea of watching you squirm. So like normal Hwa fashion, he digs for more.

"Hey, Sweetheart.” That nickname... One that all the boys adopted for you and one you’ve grown accustomed to hearing. But when it slipped from Seonghwa’s lips, it was different. You knew it was because he wanted something. He only used it when he wanted something. He would rather use your name than slip into the sweetness of a pet name, and last time he called you that, you spent hours after helping him study. Or the time before that, you went with him to the library because he didn't want to go alone. As he put it. He knew he made you melt and he knew he could get anything he wanted if that one little innocent name slipped off his tongue.

“Y-you have something for me?” You hesitated while the taller man's eyes studied you. Only for a moment, never long enough to warrant warning. But just enough to have you redder than Wooyoung’s freshly dyed hair.

He leant down slowly, his lips barely scraping your ear. “Come with me.”

And just like that he was off, heading towards the staircase. You quickly followed behind, noting each door you passed. Yunho’s and Mingi's shared room, Jongho’s and Yeosang's…a bathroom. San and woos… He stops suddenly, almost making you bump into his broad back. You couldn't help but let out a quiet yelp, making Seonghwa turn his head slightly over his shoulder. "S-sorry..."

Your murmur was not unheard by Seonghwa, but he didn’t respond, instead, he smirked to himself slyly before slipping into the room he stopped abruptly at. You followed suit, trying to rub off the embarrassment off your face, but before you could shed away the redness, it only grew darker as your eyes landed upon the perfectly made grey bed in the centre of the small but cosy bedroom…

Seonghwa’s bedroom.

You’ve never been in his room before, heck, you were well aware of how much he hated others in here. Always saying others would make it messy. And from the last time San came into it, having his way with ruining the cosy sheets, Seonghwa officially made it clear that no one goes into his room unless he permits it.

"So... What was…” Before you could finish your sentence, Seonghwa quickly opens and closes a jewellery box that sat nicely tucked away on his desk. The voice made you silence yourself as you watched him turn around to finally fully face you.

“The guys and I have been wanting to get you a gift.” He rubs the soft velvet bag between his fingers while his eyes never left yours. “Something to show our appreciation. And we… Well, I came up with the idea to get you this.”

He pulled out a thin necklace with an unfamiliar-looking symbol hanging off it. The pendant was dark red, the gems in it gleaming in the small orange lighting of Seonghwa’s bedroom… it almost looked like a compass?

“It would mean a lot if you wore this.” You've never heard Hwa sound so soft before. His natural brooding nature always made him sound cold to everyone other than his brothers. But now, in his moment, he sounded like liquid sin. Honey mixing with all roses. He held the necklace, silently asking if he could put it on for you.

Of course, you listened. You always listened if Seonghwa asked. Holding your hair up, you turned around, giving Seonghwa access to your neck. His long arms wrapped around you as he unclasped the necklace, letting it lie coolly on your collarbone.

“I knew you'd say yes.” Seonghwa's voice was a whisper now, the feeling of his hot breath against your neck making you shiver. You had no idea how long you stood like that, just feeling him closely behind you. But when a booming voice echoed from downstairs, you knew it was probably a little too long for comfort.

“Dinner’s ready!” San’s shout cut through the quiet. You turned to face Seonghwa, and of course, his expression was anything but readable. Unlike yours, which you were sure was covered in pink, with wide eyes and a shallow breath.

“I—LET'S GET THIS PARTY STARTED!!” Mingi’s enthusiastic bellow cuts off your words before you could even speak them. A wave of sound crashing against the moment you and Seonghwa were experiencing.

Seonghwa stepped aside, gesturing towards the door. “Go on. I'll be down soon.”

You walked past him for the door, taking in the lingering scent of his cologne. A mixture of sweet vanilla, coffee and something faintly spicy. He smelled intoxicating. But you shook your thoughts, heading for the stairs, your fingers naturally gravitated towards the foreign object around your neck, feeling the cool metal settled snuggly against your collarbone.

I knew you’d like it.

His soft words played on loop in your head. The way he stood closer, the way you swore you could hear his heart beat quicken along with your own. The words swirled in your mind, a deciphering puzzle you couldn’t quite place. Yet, a warmth bloomed in your chest, a quiet satisfaction that the boys had thought of you, that Seonghwa had thought of you and felt the need to give you a gift personally… Maybe he wasn’t such a brooding bad boy like everyone lets out to be.

The night unfolded in a blur of loud chatter, liquor and food everywhere and a rhythmic thump of music that sits in your chest like it was born to be there. This wasn’t an average frat party by any means, there wasn’t a crowd of drunk people, minus Mingi, and an overwhelming amount of mistakes being made that many people would either regret or not remember by the morning. No, tonight was… intimate, filled with board games, competitive video games and casual conversations ending in bursts of laughter.

It almost felt domestic in a way.

Having Hongjoong lean against you, shoulder to shoulder on the couples' couch. Or helping Yeosang and Wooyoung finish up dinner before serving it to the hungry beasts known as your friends. The initial awkwardness melted away from this morning, having been replaced by a comfortable camaraderie. You’d never admit it, but Jongho was right.

“Alright, who’s ready for a real game?” Wooyoung’s voice sliced through the relaxed atmosphere, a mischievous glint in his foxy eyes. He held up a strange, circular board, adorned with colourful squares and cryptic symbols. You couldn't help but tilt your head in confusion. “Truth, Dare, or Strike.”

“What's strike?” The thought slipped from your tongue before you could think. And oh how the smile only grew wider on Wooyoung’s face as he picked up the dice.

“So, you roll,” he explained devilishly. “Move your piece. Land on truth or dare, you pick a card from each pile.” He gestured to the purple and green stacks, letting you watch as Yunho and Yeosang shuffle them. “But if you land on strike…” He taps the board, his voice dropping to almost a whisper.

“You pick a black card…” Seonghwa’s voice made you jump as you turned slightly to see him and Hongjoong come back from the kitchen after clearing the table. His voice was buttery and suggestive, sending shivers down your spine. But before you could loom with any unnecessary thoughts, Jongho picked up the dice and rolled, letting the game finally begin.

Jongho landed on truth, admitting he had a secret drawer of sex toys that the card had suggested. San, on a dare, did a surprisingly and gracefully tame handstand... Most cards you found weren’t all ‘bad’ or ‘raunchy’ but more classical truths and dares. Well, what would you even class as basic truth or dare? You don’t know. But Mingi was the first to pull a strike card, having to make out with the person next to him. Yunho to be exact… which he did a little too eagerly. You squirmed when you watched the two giants fight for whose tongue went in whose mouth… it shouldn’t have been that erotic, watching your two friends go at it… But…

“Your turn.” Jongho nudged you a little, making you snap out of your thoughts. Your eyes widened as you looked next to you, god you were staring, and you didn’t notice. You felt yourself grow pinker than Hongjoong’s pretty drink as you gulped.

“I uh… Let me just refill my drink. I’ll be right back.” You stood a little too quickly and fled to the kitchen a little too promptly, but you didn’t think too far as you slipped away from prying eyes. Once in the kitchen, you spotted San leaning against the counter, nursing a glass of something dark as he waited for something in the microwave. You ignored him at first, looking in the fridge for something stronger than your normal stuff. Just something to take off the edge, you know, something a little more…

“Having fun?” San’s voice was a deep whisper that you only barely heard over the music that still played in the empty lounge room on the forgotten TV.

“Uh yeah.. Yeah I’m having fun..” Your eyes never left the shelves in front of you, looking at all the rows of liquor.

“More than you expected, hmm?” San poured something into a glass before walking over to the fridge, his chest grazing your back slightly. This made you stiffen as he moved you aside, reaching for the freezer door and opening it. Neither of you spoke for a moment. Just simply watched as the man dropped a few ice cubes into the crimson drink. “Here.”

You took the drink in hand, ignoring San’s knowing look. How he was able to read people's minds still beats you. But nonetheless, you took it. “Don't tell Jongho. But yes, he was right.”

The sly smirk on San’s features beamed as he took a sip of his own drink. His eyes never left yours as he watched you take a gulp of your own, noticing you grimace slightly at the strong taste. “What the actual fuck is this?!”

"Damn, sweetheart, didn't think you'd react like that.” San laughed, a full belly laugh. It was deep in his throat as he covered his mouth with his hand. “You wanted something stronger, right? Doesn't mean it'll taste better.”

“Fuck me.” You choked, looking for some water in the fridge to wash it down. But San stopped you, reaching for a pink bottle of alcohol, he wiggled it in your face. “What now?”

Your groan made San's smile grow as his eyebrow cocked. His head tilting to the side slightly like a cat, “Shot this, and if you do…” he leant down to your ear, his lips grazing your lobe, “I'll tell you a very important secret.”

Your interest suddenly peaked as you eyed the bottle. “One shot?"

“Just one.” He clarified.

You thought for a moment, watching his dark expression twist with a hint of something you couldn't quite pick out. “Hmmm… Deal.” Nodding your head, you eyed him as he grabbed two shot glasses from the cabinet. This was gonna be interesting…

While San is perfectly distracting you, Hongjoong, on the other hand—with a devilish smile playing on his lips—swiftly flicked through the cards on the table in front of him. Yunho and Jongho joined him as Yun grabbed the truth and Jong the dare pile. Their fingers were nimble and quick, shuffling all the piles, replacing a few at the top with very specific cards. Hongjoong exchanged a knowing glance with Seonghwa, a silent understanding passing between them. The boy's plan was simple really… They had this idea for months now, long night discussions and other nights filled with a little more heated activities led to all the men here wanting one thing…

You.

It was only going to be a little push, a nudge even, that’s all they needed. Just to see if you'd actually break. See if you were on the same level as all of them. To see if you truly would be theirs. "Oh, this is gonna be fun.”

Wooyoung’s voice was cheeky as he gazed at the cards Yunho and Jongho picked. The boys knew where you were standing on the board, you'd most likely land on Dare or Strike with your roll. But just in case you roll a really low number, Yunho took the liberty to look for a perfect truth card.

All three men were quick at finding what they wanted before placing the decks back as if they were never touched. Ironically, this was just as you finally walked back into the dining room, the clinking of your cup against the glass bowl filled with popcorn announcing your presence. San was close behind, and his stare was caught quickly by the two older men. Hongjoong nodded slightly, not enough for you to notice but enough for San to know the plan was going perfectly.

You sat down next to Seonghwa, not noticing he swapped spots with Jongho. Picking up the dice, you note the almost complete silence, like there was anticipation in the air for what you might roll. “Are you all holding your breath, or has the alcohol finally hit me?” You tried to give a little cheek, but you could have sworn all the boys were darker, more… predatory than normal…

“We are just curious what you might land on, sweetheart.” Mingi suddenly sounded way too sober for your liking. Your hand didn’t stop the shaking motion as your eyes narrowed at Mingi, but you chose to let the dice fly despite the odd feeling brewing in your stomach. They tumbled across the board, clattering to a stop…

"Six," Jongho casually announced, his expression never changing. But there was something, like the room let out the breath she thought it was holding, and as her little pawn landed on the square, she swore she heard a groan.

“Dare…”

A collective gasp—as if they didn’t just plan all this—quickly followed by a chorus of excited chatters filled the room. But your stomach only lurched, suddenly nervous at what the card might suggest. And if it was anything like the previous two cards… you were most likely done for. Reaching for the pile, your fingers trembled slightly. The card felt too cool, too smooth, too… heavy. You flipped it over away from prying eyes.

Your eyes nearly bulged out of your skull when you saw the card. “Nope. Absolutely not. I am not doing that.”

The group chuckled, half of them saying it can't be that bad while the others were curious what the card said. Jongho took the card from you, and what he read made his ears turn red. “Strip in front of the crowd.”

“Oh fuck yeah.” Mingi couldn’t help but hiccup out. Making your face deepen in the crimson that already pained it.

“No! I’m not getting naked!” You huffed with a slight twang of laughter. You loved your boys, yes. But getting bare in front of eight very hot men was not on your list tonight.

“Alright. You can pass, Sweetheart.” The crowd went quiet as Hongjoong spoke. “But that means you gotta pick up two strike cards this time.” It was like Hongjong's prayers had been answered, given he put the more... Harsher cards on top of the strike pile.

You go to grab the two cards, but the orange-haired male stops you. “But once you take these two, you can't undo it. You’ll have to do these cards.”

For a moment you questioned if getting naked in front of the boys for a moment was better than what these two cards could entail… but after another breath left your lungs, you knew you were willing to risk it. “I’m good.”

Picking up both cards, you stared at them. And in bold, stark letters it read. “Spit take and…Seven minutes in hell.” Your breath hitched.

A sly murmur bubbled under Wooyoung's breath as he whispered out, "Oh, these ones..”

Yeosang had to kick his foot slightly to get him to shut up. Luckily your shaky sigh covered up the young man's words, making him go unnoticed by you. You already knew what the first card was asking you, and that required you to roll to see how many people would participate. But it was the second card that had you more intrigued… “Go to a secluded room with the person to your left. And for seven minutes, they can do whatever they want to you.” with a little note on the corner, a smiley face with a speech bubble that says ‘remember consent is key’... as if that was the problem at hand right now.

Your shaky gaze suddenly snapped to Seonghwa, seeing him seated calmly beside you. And even though his expression was unreadable… His eyes were a different story. They were intense, dark and as they met your own, you noticed the lust dripping from them. A slow, knowing smile spread across his face, almost like a silent promise. And in that moment, you knew. This man, with his quiet intensity and unsettling charm, was about to completely ruin you.

“Roll.” Was all Seonghwa said as he stood, picking up his beer to take a swing of it as he walked to the archway of the dining room. You froze for a moment, not really registering what was going on. It wasn’t until Jongho’s soft, warm hand squeezed your thigh that you finally focused your eyes and looked around the room.

“You okay?” His voice was whispered, but you simply nodded your head, standing up abruptly before snatching the dice off the table.

“I’m good.” You gave your best friend a smile before rolling the red dice, letting them skate across the table, but as they came to a halt, the numbers they landed on were almost too good to be true.

Five and three….

Everything passed like a blur as Seonghwa extended his hand out for you to take. You didn’t even hear the hollers and chants from the other men as your fingers intertwined with Hwa’s soft ones. San had whispered something into the older man’s ear as he passed, and you vaguely heard Jongho say they’ll do the rest of your challenge when you come back…

But all you could think about right now was how you let Seonghwa pull you through the house. Your legs felt strangely heavy as he guided you towards the studio just opposite the kitchen and dining room. He stepped inside first, holding the door open so you could slip in besides him. The soft lamplight cast his features in shadow, making him appear even more mysterious in the reddish, purplish lighting. The studio wasn’t small by any means, supporting a large desk, couch and even a mini fridge. Hongjoong spent most of his time here, the others rarely entertaining themselves with all the electronics that Hongjoong had set up meticulously. But now the room was going to be used for something other than soundboard production. It was going to be used for something far more… erotic.

You hesitated at the threshold, a whirlwind of emotions swirling within you… anticipation, a hint of nervousness, and a strange, undeniable thrill of what-ifs and maybes. What could the Park Seonghwa possibly do in seven minutes?

“Come on,” he urged, his voice a low invitation. “Time starts now...”

You crossed the threshold, the door clicking shut behind you with a soft thud. And for a split second you thought you heard the lock. But you paid no mind as you felt the air thicken in your lungs, making it harder to breathe as you took in every detail of the room around you. All the while, Seonghwa never took his gaze off of you. Taking a swig of his beer, and his back facing the door, his burning presence filled the cramped space so much your body, soul and mind felt like they were oozing him… You could hear the way his throat worked as he swallowed more of his drink until he was empty, setting the bottle down on the edge of the deck with an anticipatory thump.

“You seem nervous…” He whispered, stepping closer until his chest grazed your back. “Why are you shaking, hmm?”

"I'm not shaking." You lied through your teeth, your voice trembling slightly. "It’s just… cold in here."

“Ah.” Seonghwa said softly, reaching out with his fingers to brush his knuckles gently across your neck. The contact felt like a jolt of electricity had suddenly coursed through your veins. “You know… Liars get punished in this room.”

"I don't know what you're talking about," you whispered, not taking your eyes off the blank wall in front of you. Not daring to look back. To look at him.

Seonghwa stepped closer, his feet pushing yours apart so he could almost put his knee between your legs as his chest became snug to your shoulder blades. He leant down, his lips only just ghosting over the shell of your ear, and then you felt the hotness of his breath as he spoke, “Don’t play dumb now, sweet bunny.”

Oh, that was new…

The pet name sent shivers down your spine as his voice turned sweet, almost melodic. “I see the way you look at me. The way you clench your perfect fucking thighs whenever you're around here. You act all shy, but I bet there's a slut somewhere inside begging for relief. Did you think that necklace only meant we were friends?"

“I…I thought.”

“What? You were in some sort of safe zone? You aren’t what we want because you’re Jong’s best friend.” Seonghwa interrupted your words as you felt his hand move to the nape of your neck, his thumb pressing gently on your windpipe. "There’s nothing safe about the way we think about you. I’ve spent weeks imagining exactly what I’m going to do to you in this very room. And now, the rules say I can do anything."

Did he just say we?

“S-seonghwa what… Ah!” You gasped before you could even protest any thought or feelings, letting yourself feel his teeth latched onto your shoulder and hand tighten around your neck. He began to kiss you, slow and agonisingly soft, his tongue tracing the line of your ear, to your jaw, down to the patches of skin on your neck his hand was not covering.

"I’ve been so patient…” He practically moaned your name in your ear. “We’ve watched you walk around this house in those cute little outfits. Pastels, cotton. Argh… “ He groaned, rutting his hips against your ass. “You always look so soft, such a pretty bunny. You knew exactly what you were doing to us. Did it make you feel powerful, hmm? Knowing we’re all starving for you?"

Your brain was no longer processing what he was saying, no, all you could think about was how he held you. How he was touching you. How you could feel the outline of his straining cock on your backside and how he growled and begged behind you. “S-seonghwa, please.”

"Please, what?" he asked, stepping a little away, letting you feel slightly empty. His hand loosened on your windpipe before swinging you around until you were facing him. And oh, did his expression make you want to melt. His eyes blown out, his jaw clenched as he awaited you to finally answer him… finally give him something. Anything!!

“Do. Not. Stop.” You punctuated every word, letting him read each one from your lips. His mouth crashed onto your feverishly.. It wasn't a gentle kiss. No, it was an invasion. He tasted like a devilish mixture of bitter hops and lust. His tongue pushing past your lips to claim you with a desperate hunger. Holding you steady by your jaw, he tilted your head as he stood up straight, making you fight to keep your lips latched. He wanted you to feel what he had been feeling for months. Being so close to touch… but not close enough to call you his.

Any sweetness you thought might come out of the usually calm man vanished, leaving a new version of Seonghwa that made your skin burn for more. And just like that he pulled completely away from you, breathing hard. “Couch. Now.”

"What?"

"I said get on the couch. Legs open. Now." Gone was the cheeky darkness in his tone, now being replaced with something almost sadistic. A shiver of fear and excitement trickled down your spine.

You obeyed.

Your movements, ever clumsy as you scrambled onto the leather. The material was freezing against your fiery skin, but the heat radiating from Seonghwa was far more overwhelming. He did not wait as he moved into action. No, warning, not words. The thud was deafening over the music beyond the door as he fell to his knees. He was acting like a starved man on a mission, and nothing was going to get in his way with his reward.

Moving between your knees, his hands grabbed a hand full of your thighs, forcing them wide without a second thought. You felt his fingers dig into flesh and nails threaten to draw blood. Maybe starved wasn’t the word for the way Seonghwa acted in this moment… No, he was more like,

Insane. Drunk. Fanatical and fixated.

"Oh, look at you," he hissed, his gaze fixed on the dampness already staining your underwear that hid so prettily beneath your skirt. "So ready for me. After all that acting, all this being shy… you’re dripping like a whore."

He didn't waste time with more words. Not leaving any room for even a little yelp as he yanked your soft cotton panties to the side, exposing your aching cunt to the cool air of the room. He didn’t use his fingers first. He didn’t tease or linger. No, your head fell back as soon as you felt his thick nose push against your clit, letting him bury his face into your heat. The first lick was a long, broad stroke that made your back arch almost right off the couch. You’ve never felt such a feeling, something as delicious as someone's tongue lapping you up like it was their favourite meal. And you were his. As you let out a strangled cry, your fingers knotting in his hair, Seonghwa knew he was done for. He would eat you out every day for breakfast, lunch and dinner if you let him.

"You’re so sweet," Seonghwa mumbled against your skin, his voice muffled. "I’m going to eat every drop of you. I want to taste how much you’ve been wanting this, sweetheart." He became a man possessed. His tongue was relentless, flicking over your clit with a precision that was borderline cruel. Sucking on you intensely, his soft hums created the perfect vibration that made your toes curl and vision spot. The tension in the room changed with each jagged breath. The wet, rhythmic sloppy sounds of his tongue against your folds, the sharp gasps you couldn't suppress, and the heavy thud of your hearts against each chest were enough to make you both spiral.

"Open wider," he growled, pulling back for a second to slap your inner thigh as you tried to close them around his head, the sound echoing in the small room. "Keep them open for me, bunny. I want to see everything."

"I-It's too much," you gulped air in as you spoke, your head tossing back and forth as your eyes screwed themselves shut. “Seonghwa, I can’t.”

"Yes, you can," he said, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous register that made your cunt clench. And that's when you felt it, the sudden intrusion making you yelp. He shoved two fingers tightly inside your wet hole as he began pumping them hard and fast, his thumb never leaving your clit. Your hips bucked without a second thought, almost having a mind of their own, chasing pleasure your body was so desperately desiring. "I want you to squirt for me, sweetheart. I want to see you lose control completely.”

"I... I’ve never done that," you panted, your voice breaking as you took in each thrust of his long digits. "I don't think I can."

Seonghwa’s gaze snapped up at you, a predatory smirk painting his features as his fingers seemingly became more frantic inside you. “Never?.. Oh, bunny. What am I going to do with you?”

He sat up straighter, his whole body towering your bent one. His lips grazed your ear, letting you hear the soft panting from him over the squelch sound. “I guess I'll have to be the first one to make that happen, huh? I'm not letting you off this couch until you're dripping all over me. Got it."

You couldn’t help but nod, letting him have his way, as he went back to his couched position. His tongue licked a strip up your cunt before settling on your clit. His fingers hooked deep, finding the spot that made your hip jerk and high pitch higher. He was relentless, abusing your sensitive flesh with a focus that was terrifying and utterly arousing. You could quickly feel the foreign tension build, a pressure in your lower abdomen that felt like a dam about to burst. Trying your best to settle your breathing, you glanced over his broad shoulders, and that's when you noticed the digital clock on the desk. The numbers glowing crimson in your spotted vision.

“H-hwa.” You choked out, your voice barely above a whisper as moans filled the void. “The time… Time. Fuck. Seven minutes is over.”

Seonghwa didn't even look up. He just growled low in his throat, his teeth grazing your inner thigh before he went back to devouring you. "Do I have to be blunt with you too, bunny?" His voice thick with lust, it sent a shiver down your spine. "And here I thought you were smart.”

Your eyes widened in shock when he looked up at you, his mouth and nose already glistening from your juices. You wanted to feel embarrassed, but Seonghwa’s tone was quick to distract you. “The clock doesn't matter. I decide when we’re done. And we are nowhere near done."

He sped up. His fingers were a blur, the sound of air being pushed out of your soaked pussy with every thrust creating a wet, slapping noise. He was punishing you now, his movements rough and demanding. He wanted… Needed you to let go. To feel everything all at once. To feel nothing but him.

"Come on, baby. Give it to me," he commanded. "Squirt for me, you little slut. Show me how much you want the rest of us. Want me."

The unfamiliar sensation brewing in your gut finally snapped, leaving a white-spotted explosion to cloud your vision. Your body convulsed, your legs locking around his head as a torrent of fluid erupted from you, splashing across his face, his chest, and the leather of the couch. You sobbed, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes as a long, high-pitched sound erupted from your chest.

Seonghwa didn't move. He stayed there for a long moment, letting your tremors subside while his face still pressed against your core. When he finally did pull back, though, he was covered in you. Your scent was heavy in the air, musky, sweet, and metallic. He wiped a stray drop from his lip and licked it off his finger, his eyes never leaving yours as he did. He looked hypnotised, completely consumed with the idea of you.

"Look at that bunny," he whispered, his voice dark as he massaged your thighs. "Look what you did for me."

Feeling accomplished, Seonghwa stood abruptly. You went to follow him without a thought, but he quickly reached out, landing a playful but sharp slap on your clenching cunt. The sting of it brought you crashing back to reality… Only slight. Watching him step away, leaving you shivering and vulnerable on the couch.

"Stay." Was all he said as he walked over to the desk.

Picking up his beer bottle, he took a long, slow swing of the last of his beer, eyes tracking the way your chest heaved as you tried to catch your breath. He looked down at the bottle, then back at you, a slow, cruel idea forming in his expression.

Your eyes never left him as he watched you. It made you feel hot, feel… seen. From always being the one to never be looked at. You not having a good enough status in school. Being the forgotten kid. Or the nerd, the outcast. The list goes on, from what you've been called in your life… but right now. All of Seonghwa's attention was on you. The Park Seonghwa. It made you feel desirable. Made you feel powerful.

"You like being watched, don't you?" he asked as if he were reading your mind, walking back towards you painfully slow. "You like the idea of being wanted, hmm? Want by me… by us?”

There it was again, the hinting of the other boys, only just a few feet away from this very room. It made you remember what San had said in the kitchen only twenty minutes ago.

"What kind of game, San?" You leant against the countertop with your arms crossed, still feeling the burn of the shot you just took. “If this is some kinda of floor shot again. I told Wooyoung a million times. No.”

San laughed, the sound vibrating against you while he stayed standing so close to you that your elbows were touching. "No, no… nothing like that….Without trying to freak you out."

“You're already freaking me out."

"Okay, okay.” San’s tone suddenly became serious. “There's a reason for that.” He points to the necklace on your neck. “And Seonghwa is gonna teach you later what the reason is. I just want you to know…”

San moves before you could think, hands on either side of you, caging you between his large body and the tabletop. “We all care for you. And we all want something. But trying to tell you has been difficult. We don't want to scare you away.”

You suddenly felt completely sober as you stared up at the man in front of you. Was he trying to say what you think he was? Did you just drink too much and now you're misinterpreting his words? "San… what are you trying to say?”

"Just be open-minded… Know that we all love you.” San leant down to your ear, whispering the last bit of his sentence, letting you smell the bourbon on his hot breath. "And the studio is soundproofed. No one hears a thing once that door locks.”

“I…” Your mouth became tacky while your mind drew a blank. This was what San was talking about. What he meant by all of them loving you…

“Tell me the truth, baby. Did you ever think about me while you fuck yourself on those pathetic pieces of plastic? Or maybe more than just me? What about the others? Ever thought about your best friend, huh? Dreamed of Jongho’s cock in you just as much as I dreamt of tasting this perfect pussy?"

You turned your head away, your face flushing a deep crimson. "I... What…."

Seonghwa has gone mad, not liking your answer. Gipping the neck of the beer bottle, he chuckled… a cruel, dark vibration from the pit of his chest. “I asked you a question, Sweetheart.”

This time the pet name that rolled off his tongue wasn't filled with any hint of sweetness. No, this time it was filled with nothing but mockery. He wanted to get under your skin just like you have him. Without a word, he took two large steps towards you before nudging your legs further apart with his legs.

“Answer me.” His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper as he began ripping at your clothes until your lower half was completely bare and your shirt was discarded, leaving you in your soft pink cotton bra. His free hand gripped your ankle, spreading your legs open further to let him press the cold, rounded rim of the bottle against your wet entrance.

"Seonghwa, w-what are you doing?" You asked, your eyes widening as you felt the cold glass begin to slide inside you.

"I'm making sure you're paying attention," he replied bluntly. Pushing the bottle deeper, you could feel the cold sensation of the glass contrasting sharply with the heat of your overworked wall. "Does that feel good? Or is it too cold? Maybe you’d prefer something warmer. Something human, hmm?”

He began to move the bottle in and out, the glass creating a suction that made a distinct, wet popping sound every time it almost slipped out. The feeling was… bizarre, invasive and oh so fucking erotic. You were too focused on the sensation of the bottle to speak. It was stretching you the way you needed, filling you in a way that felt foreign and overwhelming in the best way. You let out a soft moan, your eyes fluttering shut. Seonghwa's expression darkened. Letting go of your ankle, he ripped your bra down, letting your breasts spill free. He watched them move as his pace quickened before giving them a harsh slap, the impact making you yelp in surprise and pain.

“Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck.” Your lips finally fell loose as your legs hugged tightly around Seonghwa’s firm hips. Leaning down, Seonghwa's teeth were bared on your neck, making sure he marked you anyway he could. Whether it was teeth marks, hickeys, or blood being drawn, he needed it all.

“So tight, filthy little bunny.” He hissed as he quickened his pace, his wrist growing almost tired at the odd angle of how he was holding the foreign object. “I bet you’re imagining it’s my cock, huh? Or maybe someone else's? Do you want all our cocks, baby? Come on, you can tell me. Don’t be shy now. Be a good girl.”

“H-Hwa… I.” Tears stained your face, stinging your red cheeks. You didn’t want to admit anything, your heart ached while your mind felt dizzy. The push and pull Seonghwa gave you was almost strong enough to give you whiplash.

“You can do it, bunny. Scream it out, let the others know exactly how you feel.”

And even though you shook your head no as he sank the top of the beer bottle deeper, pressing his thumb to your clit for firmer, you felt a fire brew in the pit of your stomach. Because you knew, he knew your answer. Like he could read your every thought. You weren’t just interested in the broody frat boy…. You were interested in his whole fraternity.

"YES!" You finally screamed as he gave your tits another love tap. The confession burst out of you like a physical weight as you squirted all over the beer bottle and Seonghwa’s hand. "I think about all of you! I want all of you! Is that what you wanted to hear?”

Seonghwa froze—the bottle still buried deep inside your abused cunt—a slow, terrifying grin spreading across his perfect features. There was a hint of warmth to it. Maybe even a slight show of sympathy. But over all that, he looked like an animal who had finally trapped his prey where he wanted.

"All of us," he repeated, his voice like velvet over gravel. "Good. That’s what I like to hear… But there is now one little problem...” He pulled the bottle out of you, throwing it somewhere in the room. If you weren’t so focused on Hwa your eyes would have checked to see if the glass would break, but luckily it landed on the carpet and no shatter followed. “You’ve been keeping a secret since we’ve been here…"

"What secrets?" you whispered, your heart hammering against your ribs.

"San," Seonghwa said, his eyes narrowing. "He told you something, did he. Fucker can’t keep a secret to save his life.”

You couldn’t help but bite your lip, the guilt written clearly on your face. "San told me, you wanted to… teach me... About the necklace. But what was it, I promise.” The silence in the room was absolute. The only sound was the faint hum of the equipment and the distant, muffled beat of the music from outside. You could see the way Seonghwa tensed slightly… he didn’t believe you. Not entirely anyway. His eyes were ice cold, focused with rage that made you want to shrink into the leather beneath you.

“Did you know I’d fuck you tonight?” He said so bluntly that it almost gave you whiplash. “Did he tell you we all like you?” The words came out slowly and dangerously. “What about that we rigged the cards so one of us could break you enough that you’d finally understand you are ours…”

“I…No..” Your mouth went dry as you tried to speak, but Seonghwa cut you off anyway.

He stood up, his breathing ragged, his chest heaving with fury. “Did he think this was a game? We had a plan.” Seonghwa passed for a moment, leaving you to worry. But before you could say anything, he grabbed you by the arm, his grip bruising as he hauled you off the couch, shoving you toward the mahogany desk.

"Hands on the desk," he commanded. "Now."

"Seonghwa, wait, what I—"

"I said hands on the desk!" he roared. You obeyed, your palms slapping against the cold, polished wood. You were trembling violently now, the reality of his anger settling over you. You heard the sound of a zipper, the rustle of fabric and something like ripping plastic... Then the heat of him was behind you, pressing against your backside intensely. “I’m gonna have words with him later. But right now…”

His lips grazed the shell of your ear. “I need you to take a deep breath.” He didn’t wait for a response. He didn’t need to, grabbing your hips, with his fingers digging into the bones, he drove himself into you with one single brutal thrust that had your vision blurring. You let out a sharp cry, tears already staining your puffy cheeks as your head leaned back onto his shoulder. Seonghwa was so thick compared to the beer bottle. He seemed to stretch you beyond your limits. Well, that's what it felt like. He didn't give you time to adjust as he began to fuck you with a primal aggression. His body slamming into your pussy with a rhythmic, meat-on-meat thud that if you weren’t so turned on, you’d be embarrassed.

“You are even more perfect than I imagined,” he growled into your ear, his teeth grazing your lobe. "I'm going to fuck you until you forget your own name. I'm going to mark you so everyone down the hall knows who got you first.”

His declaration made your head spin. The knowledge that this was not just a one-time thing. That this was just the beginning of something you couldn’t even explain… and that everyone down the hall was just dying to join in. He was relentless. Every thrust felt like a challenge, a violent reassertion of dominance, of possession, that even though there was an agreement, he was going to show off what he could do for you. The desk creaked under the weight of your bodies, and the sound of your skin slapping together and panting breath filled the room. You could feel the friction building in the pit of your stomach, the raw, unpolished sensation of his cock deep inside you, driving you towards the edge. But something was missing… You needed something else... Something more.

"Please," you sobbed, your fingers clawing at the wood of the desk, leaving scratch marks in the varnish. "More. Seonghwa, please, give me more… I need..."

"What do you need, baby. Tell me what you want?" His voice was so soft compared to before, there was a caring tone lacing each word, and it only made you melt more.

“I want to feel you… I need to feel you when you cum in me.” You had no idea how you were speaking so freely, stocking it up to alcohol and the blindness of sex that made you throw your filter out the window. But it was the truth, you were craving to have him use you completely.

He reached back and slapped your ass, the sound sharp and echoing as he chuckled. The sting only fueled your desire more. And he did it again, harder this time, leaving the red imprint of his hand on your skin before pulling out for a moment. "Is this what you wanted? Be claimed. Be filled with me…"

He tore off the condom, showing it somewhere in the room, before completely trapping you against the desk, pushing off items he did not even bother to note, so he could make a perfect clearing just for your perfect body. “I told you there was a slut deep down somewhere. She just needed the motivation to come out.”

He didn't hold back this time. He increased the pace until he was a blur of motion on top of you, his cock slid in and out with a wet, squelching sound that filled the room as he hit right where you needed every time. You felt your vision spot and your throat itch from the screaming. But it was when he reached around and gripped your neck, pulling your head up so he could see your face as he destroyed you, that you swore you saw stars.

“Look at you, sweetheart.” He growled, “I want to see you. I want you to know exactly who’s doing this to you. Not San. Not any of the others yet… just me and me alone."

His mouth latched onto you, biting into your shoulder hard. His teeth sank deep into the skin, leaving a jagged, purple bruise. He moved to your neck, avoiding his hand as he sucked and bit until you were completely covered in hickeys that would take weeks to fade and be a bitch to cover. He was marking his territory, claiming every inch of you with a violence that was as much about possession as it was about pleasure. You felt his free hand leave your hip and snake between your legs before landing on your oversensitve bud. The friction was becoming intense, the heat between you nearly unbearable. And as Seonghwa felt your walls flutter around his aching cock, he knew you were done for.

“Come on, bunny. Be a good girl and come on my cock…” His tongue licked a strip of sweaty skin on your neck, “I’ll only empty my load into this cunt once you cum.”

"Seonghwa!" you aren’t even sure if you screamed, cried, or whispered. Your mind was so far gone as you felt your orgasm take hold. It was more intense than the first few ones this evening, a rolling wave of pleasure and pain that made your legs give out entirely. He followed you a second later. He delivered a final blow of his hips, stilling himself deep inside you as his body vibrated with the effort. Letting out a low, guttural moan as he filled you with hot, thick pulses of cum. You felt it all, the way it settled in you, the way it began to drip around his cock and down your dangling legs. It felt heavenly. He held you there for a moment, pinned against the desk, his weight crushing you as you both struggled to breathe.

The room fell silent again, but this time it was soft. Calm. and gentle, only leaving space for the sound of ragged breathing and the distant, ever-present bass from across the hall. Seonghwa didn't pull out immediately. He stayed buried inside you just a little longer, his head resting on your shoulder, his sweat dripping onto your back as he slowly kissed your shoulder blades, then your spine, and neck. When he finally did move, it was slow and deliberate. He withdrew with the sound of his cock popping out of your soaked pussy. He eyed the way his cum dripped out of you and the way you lay on the desk limp, your muscles twitching and your skin covered in his marks.

To him, you looked absolutely perfect.

Seonghwa stood over you, adjusting his clothes, while letting you take a moment to breathe. And then he looked down at you again, once he was done collecting your clothes he had thrown around the room, his eyes still dark, but the burning rage had been replaced by a quiet, smug satisfaction.

He had you, and he couldn’t wait to see the looks on the others' faces when they saw you completely and utterly ruined.

©Ja3hwa. Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, repost, or use my work in any way, shape, or form.

You love your new apartment. At least, you love it in comparison to your last place, a nightmarish shoebox with horrific neighbours and peeling walls. But even your friends took care to fawn over your new digs while helping you move in, Wooyoung making sure that you understood how big of a moment this was for you. He even spied out the eye candy that lives just next door; he told you all about your new neighbour who smiled and waved awkwardly at him and San as they were hoisting your couch through the door. 

And he wasn't wrong– the man is beanstalk-tall and so fucking wide. A braver woman than you certainly would have hit on him by now, drawn in by the wide smile he gives you as he shoulders into the elevator behind you and exchanges good-natured, earnest pleasantries with you. You hope you answer his how's your week been with a smooth nonchalance that distracts him from the way you're smiling way too big to be passed off as anything near casual. He tells you silly stories about his job as a dance coach at the local studio and looks genuinely satisfied when he gets a laugh out of you. The pair of you comfortably settle into a place somewhere between 'just neighbours' and 'friends' lined with a flirtatious tension neither of you dares to bring up– and it works.

You even get to share some gentle mornings together, each of you out on your own balconies. You, with your cup of homemade iced latte and him rolling a joint on the too-tiny table he stuck out there for that sole purpose, his knees knocking against the underside of it nearly every time he shifts his legs. The first time you catch him, tongue halfway across the rolled paper, he has the wherewithal to at least look sheepish and he lets out a visible sigh of relief when you just laugh and take your own seat. You steal furtive glances over whatever book you brought out to watch him as he smokes, gradually sinking into his seat and you let yourself fantasize about him sneaking looks over at you in between tokes. It's fun to have a cute little puppy crush, you decide, even if it doesn't go anywhere, and Mingi's a great recipient. 

So of course he has to go and ruin it.

"When did you start smoking weed again?" Wooyoung wrinkles his nose as he pulls off his parka and lets you lock the door behind him. "Don't think I've seen you smoke since college. You’d better share, that's so-" 

You interrupt him with a frustrated groan. "I didn't Wooyoung- that's from next door," you stomp petulantly to your kitchen, leaving your friend to follow in your frustrated wake. "I didn't realize when he kept it to the balcony but whatever fucked up strain he smokes is seeping into the walls, I swear."

Wooyoung places the Chinese takeout he brought on the kitchen counter, shaking excess snow out of his hair. You hand him a plate and a pair of chopsticks and he lets out a faux-contemplative puff of air before he replies, "Well… he had to have like a flaw right? Inconsiderate stoner is annoying sure, but I bet I can whip him into shape." He grins wickedly and punctures his sentence by snapping his chopsticks at you. "Still hot, unfortunately. Saw him heading out on my way up and he manages to be enticing even in an extra-long puffer coat."

"Ugh, whatever," except it's not whatever because you know the coat Wooyoung's talking about and Mingi doeslook so adorable in it, especially because it's oversized and he pulls up the hood and smiles at you until his eyes disappear and nuzzles his face into the pulled up collar. "Whatever," you repeat, shaking your head like it'll shake out the image of Mingi all bundled up in his Winter get up. "It doesn't matter how cute he is-"

"Okay, so I said hot."

"It doesn't matter!" Maybe if you say it a couple dozen more times it'll come true. "Because there is nothing cute or hot about being an inconsiderate jackass. It's starting to get into my clothes, Wooyoung. I have a job where I need to maintain like, a modicum of professionalism. I can't show up smelling like weed."

"We're slipping into old man shakes fist at cloud territory here, princess," Wooyoung is gentle with you even in his teasing, knowing first hand how you can work yourself into a frenzy with little encouragement– or, on your worst days, no encouragement at all. "Like, you're not wrong, but let's reel it back before you commit full on arson on the building you're also living in."

The two of you have gradually migrated to the couch, letting episodes of a familiar sitcom drone on in the background. And having Wooyoung around is so lovely because no one else would let you whine like this, and before you know it the cups of hot and sour soup are empty and you're bitching and moaning about Mingi again. It doesn't help that it's nearing the time of night when he tends to spark up again, so you know the smell that had somewhat faded since this morning is about to come back with a dank vengeance. 

"I know it's lame or whatever to complain about someone lighting up in their own home," you mumble out around a bite of springroll, its crispiness doing wonders to settle you down. "I thought he was like a thoughtful guy though, you know? It's kinda disappointing. He really is just a man."

Wooyoung scoffs out a laugh, "Well, I could've told you that. I've definitely seen him scratch his balls in the elevator."

"Ew, stop, the illusion's already been shattered."

He only laughs as he grabs the two fortune cookies from the takeout bag and tosses one at you. He doesn't bother to apologize when you don't react quick enough to catch it, the crinkly wrapping paper hitting you square in the forehead. He's already munching away at his cookie, cheeks puffed out. "Mine says that beauty is often mistakenly valued above wisdom… so. A lie. Does yours say anything about fucking your sexy neighbour and stealing his weed?"

The air outside has settled at a bitter, bone-chilling cold. You've taken to wearing two pairs of socks most days in hope of conserving the heat as you trudge to the subway every morning. The scarf you knit last year that made you officially abandon your knitting needles has made a surprise reappearance in your daily rotation. And Mingi is still huffing away next door more days than not, stinking up your apartment like the worst Bath & Body Works candle imaginable. 

San suggested going to your landlord- and he nodded solemnly when you said absolutely not because you're no snitch. But you hate, hate, hate the way you still reek with the stuff even when you're blocks away, overpowering any perfume you own. You’ve also wasted a lot of your favourite perfumes.

You have to say something to Mingi. Directly. Direct confrontation. Oh god.

Your feet carried you to his door before you can reconsider. The door is normal, unassuming. Why wouldn't it be? It’s the same as yours, just six feet to the left. Did you expect it to look different? An evil, anxious bug in the back of your mind wonders if he's watching you just stare at his door through his peephole, wondering why his skittish neighbour is lurking outside his apartment. The visual is so harrowing that you finally commit to knocking before it can become a reality.

There's a moment of quiet– then, distantly, a crash, a cough and heavy footsteps that creep closer. And then he's opening the door, and there he is, tall but not quite imposing, eyebrows furrowed in confusion that only serves to make him even more endearing.

His expression brightens when he realizes it's you. You wonder, fleetingly, if he's doing this on purpose, because gosh, that smile nearly makes you forgive him right then and there. "Neighbour!" he chirps, like he really is excited to see you. Earnest, he’s really very earnest."This is new."

Right, you're crossing into untreated territory here and for a moment you feel a sense of embarrassment– but that fades quickly into indignation. He crossed that boundary first. His stink is in your home! "Yes, right, hi," terrible start. "Mingi, hi. Hi." Woof.

"…Hi?" If there is a god, he'd strike you with lightning and take you out with a swiftness.

"Hi, sorry," you shake your head at yourself like it'll physically snap you back to reality. "I hope you're not, like, busy or anything, I can totally come back later or tomorrow, even."

He's still smiling at you like that and he cocks his head at your words. "No, not busy. Just, y'know, winding down after work, yeah?" he says it like it's an inside joke. He settled into familiarity with you so quickly, you’ve allowed yourself to wonder before if that’s just what he’s like or if that’s what he’s like with you.

"Yeah," your hands busy themselves in the pocket of your oversized sweater- he brought it up himself, perfect, now you just have to commit. "Winding down, right- look, Mingi, I don't wanna be a shitty neighbour, really-"

"You're a great neighbour," he interrupts, not realizing he's super not helping.

"Oh! Oh, thanks, you've been… swell," swell?! "Except, there's just, it's really just this one thing, and I really wouldn't bring this up otherwise, and I'm not, like, judging or anything-"

"Did I do something wrong?"

"No! No, well not really it's just…" you're scrambling, that much is clear.

"Hey, I'm really sorry if I did something to upset you, I mean it, It’s just, I don't even know-"

"Mingi, you stink!"

Not great. He's staring at you in genuine shock, mouth in a little 'O' shape. You'd think he was actually frozen if it weren't for the shock of bright red that creeps up his ears. "Not like you stink," oh god, you've fucked this. Like really, actually fucked it. Royally. "Like, when you smoke. Inside. It stinks. It stinks up everything. It gets into my clothes. It gets into my hair, Mingi," you're whining now, a petulant child insisting she's right. But you are, of course, right, is the thing. "And I don't mind it, like, fundamentally and I meant it, I'm not judging you but god your shit's loud and I can't deal with it all the time, you know?" Your hands have come up to cover your eyes. Maybe when you take them down, Mingi will have disappeared and he'll have been a projection of your single, horny brain all these months.

And then Mingi starts giggling. Honest to god, giggling. "Oh, little neighbour," he coos at you and his hands, massive but purposely gentle, come up to grasp at your wrists and pull them away from your face. And he's still there. Obviously. "Shit," he sighs. "I'm sorry, little neighbour. I just– I run so cold, yeah? I'm real sensitive– like, when it's this nasty cold outside." You nod along and pretend not to notice that he hasn't let go of your wrists. His hands are warm. 

"I guess I'm a little nose blind to my own shit though, I really didn't think it'd be so bad," he chuckles at himself. "My friends joke about me reeking of the stuff but I thought they were just being assholes. Huh… guess I was the asshole the whole time, huh?"

You shake your head, almost on instinct. "No, really it's fine– I mean, I was getting mildly annoyed, sure," holy understatement. "But I wasn't about to rat you out or anything. Just... I don't know…" You're running out of gas now, turning sheepish and wrinkling your nose at yourself.

"Hey, hey," he lets go of your wrists and uses one big hand to ruffle at your hair like a cranky kitten. "You've every right to your annoyance, neighbour. I really am sorry. Listen, I'll uh, I'll start smoking like on the way to the grocery store and shit like that. Or I'll get a vape. Something, I don't know," he laughs out a breath and leans against the doorframe. "Really, I've been trying to be the perfect neighbour for you this whole time– turns out all I had to do to get you to finally knock is stink up the whole place, huh?"

You… you think that he might be flirting with you now. You can't be sure because you're still kind of reeling from your own faux pas. "The smell's not that bad," you concede. "I mean it's… a lot. I used to smoke kinda regularly, like, in college. It's just the sheer amount- I mean, my god, Mingi, you're a fucking chimney."

This time when he laughs, you let yourself laugh with him. "Yeah, yeah, I've heard it all before," he's smiling that bright, sunshiney, power the city for generations smile again. "Okay-" he claps his hands and you startle at the noise, making him laugh again. 

"An idea! I have an idea." You give him a worried look and he lays a hand on your shoulder that you think he means to settle you, but you feel heat spread all over. Was he always this touchy? "I owe you an apology, obviously," you go to interrupt but he carries on. "No, no, I do, you can't change my mind about this." The firey determination that sparks up in his expressive eyes all but confirms this. "So– let's stink up this floor one more time. I smoke you out, you can raid my fridge for whatever snacks you want and I'll even order you some candles to clear out the lingering scent. And then I commit to smoking out in the cold for the rest of my mortal, pathetic life."

Turns out Mingi is a very difficult person to say no to. Not that you tried very hard, of course. One glance at those puppy eyes and you crumbled. He's got a classic mid-2000's comedy on– he said it was one of his favourites and you wished you'd taken a picture of the way his eyes lit up when you quoted it back to him. You'd bonded over your favourite stupid bits from stupid movies. He's kinda nerdy, you've realized as he recites full scenes from movies you've not seen in over a decade. 

"Your couch is comfier than mine," you muse absentmindedly, head propped up by your hands, elbows on your knees. You're watching Mingi roll two joints in succession– the action not necessarily a new sight to you, but you've never had blanket permission to sit and stare at him while he does it. It's mesmerizing, like pretty much everything else he does.

"Yeah? Well, get as comfy as you'd like, little neighbour," his smiles are always so genuine for you. "Hope everything else is to your liking?" There's a twinkle in his eye too, a secret ask behind his words.

"Everything's good, Mingi."

"Only good?" He's pouting now. His most devious trick yet. You don't respond, you can't fall into his trap this early. Instead you take a sip from the canned iced tea you stole from his well-stocked fridge. He hums petulantly at your silence, and places one of the two spliffs into the ashtray shaped like an eight ball. He pops the other one into his mouth and rises to his full, staggering height. He's so tall he casts a shadow over you by way of the the sun setting through the window behind him. He stretches his arms over his head with an exaggerated grunt and the fabric of his t-shirt slides up at the waist, teasing you with a slutty sliver of skin. He's a little bit evil you're pretty sure now. You lean back and properly settle into the couch to shamelessly enjoy the view while he isn't looking at you.

He flops onto the- very large, very comfortable- couch next to you with a shocking level of grace. He's not quite close enough that any part of you is touching but he's certainly not far away. He fished into the deep pocket of a cargo pants for a lighter and he makes a slow purposeful show of flicking it on and bringing it to the jay lazily hanging out of his pouty lips. He breaths in deep, chest expanding and he lights it properly, eyes sliding closed.

He takes a few more slow pulls, smoke billowing out of pursed lips– and you let him because, wow, what a show. You do scramble to gain control yourself eventually. "You're smoking my apology."

He sucks in a breath through his teeth, meeting your gaze again. You nearly gasp. He's already heavily lidded, a sluggish smile working it's way across his mouth. "Shit, my bad, pretty," he calls you pretty like it's no big deal. So you carry on, no big deal.

He finally gives up the joint for you and you feel very watched. He's following your every move now. He watches as you bring it up to your lips, pursing them, sucking in a deep breath and– heaving a deep, dry cough. He laughs heartily at your pain and you continue to nearly hack up a lung. The iced tea helps.

"Shut up," you full on whine at him, thrusting out a hand to shove at his chest and god dammit, it's rock hard. "It's been a bit, okay?"

He's still laughing but he puts his hands up in surrender. "Sorry, sorry," he sighs dramatically and leans his head against your shoulder as you, very bravely, you might add, go to take another drag. "I'm really botching this aren't I, little neighbour? Hogging the weed, laughing at you, I didn’t even let you choose the movie." He pouts and nuzzles into your shoulder and if you knew any better you'd say he's making himself as pathetic as possible.

"Don't be pathetic, Mingi." He grins.

"I can make it up to you though," his voice has dropped, even lower than his usual bassy timber. "Just wanna be a perfect neighbour, y'know? Lemme make it up to you."

"You already apologized, Min. Nothing to make up."

"Please?" He mutters the single word into your shoulder and blood rushes in your ears.

"Hah–" you breath out a laugh you think makes you sound unaffected. You hope. "Thought you'd have a better tolerance than this." The quiet moment passes like wind through an open window, but the intimacy lingers in the air still, refusing to leave entirely.

He snickers like you're just that amusing to him. "Yeah– that's why I buy the strong shit. So careful with it, yeah? You're littler too. G'nna fuck you up waaay faster." He shifts so his head is in your lap, fully lounging against you like an Emperor in his throne. His long legs don't quite fit onto the rest of the couch like this, one is bent at the knee, the other off the plush sofa completely.

"You're good at making yourself comfortable quick, huh?" you say as you take another drag, almost doing it just to prove him wrong. But he's not wrong, it is, in fact, strong shit. You know you have to slow down if you don't want to be totally flying. 

He grins up at you. "Mm-hm," he nods. "We're friends now. Giving you a crash course in being my friend. This is a lot of it." He grabs at your wrist that isn't holding the spliff, his grip becoming familiar to you now, and brings your hand to his hair. You let yourself tangle your fingers into the dark locks and he visibly relaxes under the touch.

You know if you smoke any more of this space-age weed you won't recover before Monday so you lower it down to his lips– you don't quite understand this instinct, why you don't hand it to him instead but he doesn't so much as flinch. He wraps his plush lips around the filter but makes no move to grab it so you just have to carry on holding it as he inhales. 

"Careful, tiny," he's using that low, quiet timbre again. He clicks his tongue at you chidingly–"Can't have you burning yourself." The ember has crept only centimeters away from your fingers without you noticing and he, with a life-ruining gentleness, plucks it away and leaves the bud to burn in the ashtray. 

The smell is heavier here, because of course it is– you've followed it to the source, after all. Mingi was absolutely right, though, you're more sensitive to the stuff than you remember and you've settled into the high so nicely. It's floaty and warm, familiar like a family recipe. You're sinking into the couch, the weight of Mingi's head in your lap grounding you, tethering you directly to him.

You open your eyes not long after you realize you let them slip close at one point, lazily blinking as you struggle to readjust to even the low light of the cute lamps he has in multiple different spots of the living room. In the back of your hazy mind you register a mild gratitude for the fact that he too clearly understands the evils of Big Light. More than just a pretty face, you surmise.

You cast your gaze down to see how your neighbour is faring to find him already watching you, red-rimmed eyes almost too alert for your liking. He doesn't look away when you catch him– an eyebrow quirks in an unspoken challenge, daring you to look away, to cower first. You don't, not this time. Your fingers, once absentmindedly combing through his hair still. His eyes flicker to your lips, slow enough that you know you were meant to see it, leaving no room for you to misread his intentions now.

"All good?" he still manages to sound casual but only just– like his control is slipping, threatening to break free entirely.

“Yeah,” your voice is softer still, desperate to not disturb this precious little moment. The moment before… something. “All good.”

He studies you for another moment, searching for hesitation or something worse and when he can’t find it he hauls himself up in a gentle glide. You’ve noticed this about him– he’s consistently graceful for someone his size. He’s never abrupt, never jerky. There’s a composure to him that makes you ache to see it crumble and break. He’s next to you now, angled towards you, caging you in with his arms on the plush of the sofa cushions. “Tell me,” he pauses to wet his lips with his tongue and a smirk dances across his face when your eyes follow. Tease. “Tell me if I read this all wrong.”

You don’t need to answer verbally as your chin tilts towards him, an open invitation if ever there was one. His breath catches.

That first kiss is slow and deliberate, every movement drawing you into him more and more. There’s a distant thought that it feels like he’s trying to prove something to you but he steals it away. You’re leaning into each other with a neediness that shocks your hands into moving– one into his hair, already familiar with the touch and the other to a toned forearm.His own hands have found their way to you at some point, magnetized, to your waist. They grip without being harsh, your back arching into the touch only slightly, because you’re still consciously holding onto those last bits of sanity.

His lips press against yours even firmer then, a reward for wanting him as much as he wants you, control slipping away, strand by strand. Your hand tightens in his hair and he exhales against you, fingers gripping you tighter without crossing the line into harshness. He pulls away, only for a second, quick enough that you’re not sure it was even real, because his hand grips onto you before you can even process it, shifting you so his back is against the couch and your thighs are splayed across his, straddling him. You register with a barely contained shiver how thick his thighs are under you. 

He stills then for a second and you’ve parted from him just far enough to take this version of him in. Hair mussed (your doing), eyes red and glossy (half your doing, you choose to believe) and chest rising and falling in deep, purposeful breaths (definitely your doing, thank you). You freeze there, shocked by just how gorgeous he is like this, under you, lowlit and desperate and warm.

You bring a hand up to his jaw before reconnecting your lips to his, needier than before. Your lips work in tandem with each other as your tongues finally meet, delving the both of you into something that can only be described as hungry. His hands wander, as greedy as his mouth is against you, touching every bit of your back and waist he can, sending shocks of heat wherever they manage to brush against bare skin. Your teeth nip softly at his bottom lip in a challenge that you’ll later insist was an accident and you can practically hear his composure begin to splinter. He keens, whines against your mouth and you swallow the sound greedily and his palm flattens against your back to bring you close, close, closer. Your hips shift against his and the friction makes you lightheaded.

He pulls away with a petulant reluctance, forehead against yours, not willing to be any further away than that. He swallows and and sighs against you, hands planted firmly on your hips. His eyes are darker now, heavily lidded and gazing into yours with a fire you don’t recognize but you’re sure is mirrored in your own eyes. He huffs a laugh, half disbelief, half pride.

“Look at you,” you think he means to tease but he’s still breathless enough that it comes out straight up whiny.

“Me?” You smile wickedly and rock your hips against his– the firmness beneath the rough denim erases any doubt in your mind. He wants this, wants you. His own hips stutter, chasing you as his breath catches. “Look at you.”

He bites at his bottom lip, head falling back against the couch. His hands grip at your hips, more desperate than controlling, pulling you against him, closer still. He’s holding back as best he can, teeth still digging into his lip but these little grunts and whines are still escaping, taunting you.

You gasp as he surges forwards, hips properly and roughly rutting up into yours– the seam of your own jeans dig into you and you gasp, head dipping back. He takes this opportunity, lips against your neck with that same hunger, nipping, kissing, biting, surely leaving marks that you can’t possibly bring yourself to worry about now. No one will question a turtleneck in this weather anyway. You let him bite away, your hand finding it’s home in his hair once more in encouragement. Neither of you bother to pretend to have any semblance of control anymore and it’s so much more delicious this way; no more pretending, you’ve decided as you let a wanton moan out. He groans low in response and pulls away– you almost don’t let him, tugging at his hair in retaliation and his groan turns into a whimper. 

Before you have time to react he plants you back onto the couch, moving with newfound determination now, as he gets you to lie down, him kneeling between your spread legs. Your vision has blurred at the edges but he’s glowing, center-stage. He’s a mess. You can’t imagine you’re faring much better. 

Pupils blown, his hands grip at the meat of your thighs– he’s scowling at your jeans like they’re scheming against him. He’s half feral now, you think. He glides his hands up, pulling the fabric of your loose shirt shirt with them and he leans forward to press his forehead against your stomach. “You’re killing me I think,” he huffs, pressing devastating, gentle kisses against your skin and nosing against the plush of your stomach. You laugh, breathless but genuine all the same and brush his hair out of his eyes.

“Good way to go though, right?” you giggle and watch as he toys with the waistband of your jeans.

He looks up at you, eyes shining, pleading in an unspoken question, fingers inching toward the button. You nod minutely but he sees it all the same and wastes no more time. He’s frantic, fingers fumbling against the hardware as he undoes them, yanking them down until they hit the rug with a soft thump. Only your panties are between you and him now but he can’t seem to think that far. 

“Fuck, she’s wet,” he says, nearly to himself, eyes gleaming. His hands are on your thighs again, kneading incessantly. “Can I-” he starts, pausing to palm himself over his jeans, can’t help himself. “You gotta let me taste her. She’s begging for it. Need it.” He’s already lowered himself, half off the couch, spreading your legs even wider and nosing at your underwear. “Need it–” he repeats himself, half mindless before pressing an open mouthed kiss to your pussy through the fabric. He moans as soon as he gets that first taste of you, immediately addicted. 

You gasp and your hips jump up at the contact, chasing his mouth and he doesn’t fight it, chases you right back, hands at your hips not to control you but to ground himself. Your hand, still in his hair, it’s second home now, tugs gently at the strands, while your other hand finds purchase on the pillow next to you. He mouths at you, still over your panties, tongue out, practically drooling over you, soaking them through. “Tastes so good,” he hums against you, hands wrapping themselves around your thighs. “So good, fuck. So wet.” 

He pulls back, acting like it pains him to do so but he wants unfettered access to you, might really die if he can’t get it– he yanks your underwear down and doesn’t bother to spare them a second glance as they join your pants on the ground, too in awe, enraptured by your unobscured cunt to even consider looking away. His mouth is back on you before you can take a proper breath in, lips finally, mercifully, wrapped around your clit. You stutter out his name, begging for something– more, less, something that doesn’t even exist yet, you don’t know. 

“Holy fuck, Mingi,” you finally manage out somewhat clearly, around your own whines and whimpers. He hums in response, the vibrations cruel against your clit in a way the makes your head pitch back. He hips have a life of their own, grinding against the couch with abandon, can’t help himself. He pulls back and smiles listlessly at the whine you let out.

“S’good, yeah?” He soaks in your reaction, bites his lip as your hand tries to tug him back. He resists, barely, hands coming to your soaked pussy– he can practically hear her purring for him– to spread your lips wide for him. “She’s so pretty, baby, god–” Only then does he dive back in, one long lick against you that has you squirming. He’s focused on your entrance now, giving those wet, messy kisses again, tongue delving into you and his nose bumps against your clit in a way that has your head spinning. 

“So good, Mingi, it’s so good–” you babble absently but the praise gets to him still, hips grinding against the couch without his permission. You’re not sure who’s louder at this point, you or him. He brings his mouth back to your clit, suckling on it, freeing up space to tease you as with his fingers only brushing against your entrance, gathering the wetness there. He seems to be content to make you into as much of a mess as possible, revelling in every moan, every movement. “Please–” the word’s barely left your swollen lips when he plunges two fingers into your desperate, weeping pussy. 

The initial stretch from two fingers sends a shockwave through you and he has to use his other hand to properly hold your hips down. They’re skilled in their exploration, delving deeper than your own fingers could ever hope to. He’s on a mission, scissoring them inside you, stretching your gummy walls and finding those spots that make you keen. His mouth has travelled, never stopping, biting meanly against your thighs. “So fucking messy, baby,” he takes a moment just to watch; watch his own fingers diving in and out of you, nearly drooling at the sight. “Is that just for me? She loves me, huh?” He keeps talking directly to your pussy– it would be endearing if you weren’t so desperate to cum. 

You nod in response, not even totally sure what the question was, but he won’t break eye contact with your cunt. “Uh-huh,” you’re delirious but conscious enough to know that you’re delirious and that counts for something. Mingi is equally far gone, thankfully, wondering, hoping, that he’ll still be able to taste you hours from now. “S’all for you, Min.”

Another harsh bite on the inside of your thigh, soothed by his tongue and a kiss in that same spot. “You gotta come, okay? Gotta come for me, please, need it, need you to come on my face,” he’s babbling now, on the dangerous side of crazed, please’s and cum for me’s, even as he brings his tongue back to your clit. You’re faring no better, pieces of his name broken up by whines escaping and mounting in volume. Your thighs are pressed against the sides of his head and he thinks that this must be what heaven feels like– buried in pussy, suffocated by thighs. Perfection.

He knows you’re close, so close he can quite literally taste it. He hears it too, your sounds mounting higher and louder still. You know it too, can’t ignore it, with his tongue lapping at your clit and his fingers prodding at that spongy spot that makes you see stars. He wants it bad, working at you with a terrifying vigour. It only took a few more moments, a few more expert swipes of his tongue until you were there, cresting over that edge, your hand fisting in his hair and cumming with a broken wail. He works you through it, refuses to let up. Still pumping, licking, grinding. You’ve never had an orgasm last this long and Mingi is determined to keep it going, going, going– until you’re whining weakly and tugging his hair away from your poor, soaked pussy. Your eyes fill with tears at the overstimulation, a few slipping through and down your cheeks. When he finally does pull away it’s slowly, with one last kiss against your twitching clit like a goodbye. You’d laugh if you weren’t busy trying to remember how to breath like a regular human being. 

He crawls back on top of you, kissing against every bit of skin he can on the way back up– your thighs, hips, stomach, breasts, neck, until he’s face-to-face with you, noses brushing against each other. His eyes are half lidded and still hungry, the bottom half of his face shining, sparkling even with your own wetness, making him look like a sexed up kind of fairy. He brings his similarly soaked fingers up to tap against your bottom lip and you open your mouth without a word, not breaking eye contact as he slides them in, gliding against your tongue, the taste of you heavy. He smiles drunkenly as he watches you suck his fingers, tongue lapping at them and he lets a deep moan out from his chest. His forehead falls to your cheek and he lets his hips grind against you, your oversensitive pussy meeting rough denim and making you whimper around his fingers and gag slightly as they delve deeper. A dribble of spit leaks out from the corner of your lips and Mingi, nasty and unbidden, licks at it, licks all the way up your cheek, along the tracks your tears left, just tasting all of you.

He pulls back abruptly to strip away his own clothes, mostly because he think he might really, actually explode if these fucking jeans stay on for another second. His jeans and shirt are off, boxers halfway down when it registers to him that you’ve followed suit, sitting up with your shirt and bra gone and he can’t not be drawn to your tits. He’s only human. 

He’s kneeling between your legs again, knees digging into the carpet uncomfortably but he can’t begin to care about that as he kneads at your tits, mouth attached to a nipple, sucking and gently biting at it. You wonder, momentarily, how his jaw isn’t cramping up yet. “Mingi, baby, c’mon,” you pull at his roots until he lets your nipple go. He doesn’t quite move away– just looks up at you, resting against your chest, wet mouth still slightly agape and eyes shiny, wet with unshed tears. God. “C’mon.”

You pull him up to lay on the couch and he goes now without question, finally getting his boxers all the way off on the way– you could probably ask anything of him right now and he’d do it. And shit, he’s so hard you realize and he lays there. It’s massive, too– rock hard, throbbing to the point you think it must be painful. He’s leaking an absolute mess of precum against his stomach, his cock already slicked with it from when he was rutting himself into a frenzy in his jeans. “Oh, baby,” you coo at him as you kneel between his thighs, mirroring his spot from when he drove you to a mind blowing orgasm not even minutes ago. You wrap a hand around him and feel dizzy at the realization that your fingers don’t quite touch each other. 

He might have been designed in a lab specifically to drive you insane, you’re pretty sure. How else could a man like this exist, just walking the earth?

Your pussy throbs at the mere idea of his dick stretching your walls but you’re desperate for just a taste first, it’s too enticing; you lean forward and give the slick head a tentative, experimental lick, moaning lightly at the salty taste of him. His cock jumps at the sensation and in the back of your head you remember him saying that he’s sensitive when he was justifying not smoking in the cold– at least you know now he wasn’t bullshitting you. You suck at the head so very gently, just to rile him up and you know it works as he throws his head back and mewls. “Please, baby, just-please, you’re-you can’t,” he’s babbling again, near panicking at the idea of blowing his load before having you properly on his cock. 

You go to straddle him properly, for your own sake as much as his because you want it just as bad– you know you’ll have your mouth back on him one day, you promise yourself that much. Maybe even within the hour, who’s to say. “Oh, Mingi, you’re so hard,” you pout down at him teasingly because you can’t help it– he’s so pretty laid out like this, hands grabbing at you, plush lips kiss bitten and red.

He nods quickly– “So hard, need t’fuck you, baby.” And you know he’s not lying, he needs it, really needs it. “G’nna make you feel so good, yeah? You know I will, I will, I promise–please.”

You either take pity on him or his begging is driving you crazy, either way you use one hand to steady his dick as you drag your wetness along the tip of him and tease his dick along your entrance, your other hand steadying you against his toned chest. You last through a few more of his pleads before you truly can’t take it anymore and begin to sink down on him– the initial stretch of his ridiculous girth is maddening, your mouth dropping open as you take him deeper and deeper.

He’s panting heavily, using every inch of his barely there willpower to not buck up into you and make you take all of him– he lets you take him inch by agonizing inch, every movement making his eyes roll back into his head because fuck, you feel like actual heaven. He might cry. He’s probably actually going to cry, he realizes as you’ve taken just more than half of him, because you’re too warm, too tight, too perfect, what the fuck. And you’re still sinking down, taking more, more, ignoring the slight burn in your thighs because it’s worth it, he fills you so perfectly. You take more, a little more until he’s fully buried inside of you and you both let out synchronized, shuddering groans at the realization.

“Oh, god, god, pretty,” he wraps his thick arms around you all the way, noses at your neck because he needs to be as close to you as humanly possible. “Fuck you’re so wet, so tight, huh? I did that, yeah? Worked you up so good, needed my cock, didn’t you?”

He’s not really asking you questions, some small part of you understands that but you nod along to his words all the same, half because he’s right and half because you can’t think, mind wiped by his cock seated inside you, stretching you out to fit him perfectly, moulding you to him. “Yeah, so full, Mingi, baby, so good–” His hips twitch helplessly against you, begging silently for something, anything. And mercifully, you deliver. 

You pitch your own hips up just barely, just so, the mild movement already sending sparks up your body, a live-wire. He grinds back against you because he truly can’t not anymore, his hips tilting to yours, chasing in anguish and you gasp as the tip of him kisses against that spot deep inside you that makes you gush around him. 

He responds in kind, groaning his loudest groan yet, the sound wrapping around you and you don’t even recognize just how much you’re drowning in everything Mingi, every sense overtaken by him. It’s only those strong arms, hands gripping your waist again that anchor you against pure hysteria.

You start to grind against him, setting a deep, rolling rhythm that has him hitting spots in you that had previously remained untouched. He grinds up into you in tandem, can’t help it, his hands gripping at your waist with a bruising tenderness. His eyes are wet, a few tears rolling down his cheeks now and you feel an evil sense of vindication– it’s nice to know you can make each other cry. And he’s such a pretty crier, eyes wide, face flushed and eyebrows tilted up, he’s just so pretty. There’s not a lot of them, the tears, and you know you’d like to make him really cry one day– but fuck, you’re dripping around him now, as desperate for him as he is for you at this point.

So you have no more restraint left as you go to properly fuck yourself on him, the stretch delicious as you slide him in and out of you, hands on his shoulders to brace yourself but also feel up his built shoulders. “F-fuck,” he has you stuttering and crying out now, damn him, because he can’t just lie there and take it, it’s out of his control now, his hips canting up and chasing you every time you bounce or grind or tilt. “Fuck, Mingi, baby, god, you’re so big, so good,” and you mean it, every word– he is, in fact, so big and so good. So good that he does deserve you truly bouncing on him, you figure and you’re sure he’s ruined you for any other man now, as he buries his head in your tits, keening every time you land, burying him to the hilt. It’s delicious and it’s messy, he’s basically drooling against you as he mouths at your nipples until you know they’ll be sore tomorrow.

“Yeah, good for you,” clearly he agrees. “Made for you, I think– never felt so good, y’r stretched perfectly around me, pretty, just need you to ngh–” his eyes shut tightly as you clench around him, like he’s nearly at his breaking point. “Need it–” he insists, lost in the warmth of you, fully thrusting back up into you.

“Need what Mingi?” your words are breathless, whiny, desperate. “What do you need, baby? Tell me– anything, it– give you anything.”

Both of you are falling apart but desperately grasping at any modicum of control you can over each other; you mock him, he bites at your nipples; you clench around him, he uses his grip on you to slam you down further. The push and pull, the sick game becomes, eventually, little more than two messes, wet and sweaty, fucking into each other, pleading into each others mouths, looking for something, anything, neither of you understand what you need anymore.

“So fine, y’r so good,” he’s mumbling out incoherent praises into your mouth, as everything becomes tighter, hotter, wetter. “Fuck. Fuck.” His hips stutter as they thrust up into yours, grinding in this new cruel way on the up swing and your eyes nearly roll back into you head. “Fuck.”

“Are-” you start, then immediately stop as his hand comes back to your clit, already overworked and weeping, to rub it in precise circles. He doesn’t need to say it out loud but he’s close, rising to this insurmountable peak and he needs, more than anything he’s ever needed before, to bring you there along with him. “You’re nearly there, yeah?” he nods along, little yeah, yeah, yes’s escaping his spit soaked lips. “Me too, me too- need it, need you to make me come, make me feel so good, please Mingi, please, don’t stop.”

And he doesn’t stop, probably can’t at this point. His mouth, aimlessly kissing, biting, whatever against your tits and shoulders and neck, is letting out a nonstop stream of noises and mumblings– you make out a few of his praises, the good girls and the perfect pussys in the mix of it all.

“Can-” he struggles to speak, managing words only between these pathetic, high pitched whines. “Need’ta come, baby, need it, need it,” one thought of him coming inside of you, filling you in every way makes you cream around him, clench around him even more, before he even gets to properly ask, making his eyes nearly roll back into his head. “Can I? Please– inside? Inside you? Need to fill you up, make you feel so good, it’ll feel so good– pussy’s so good, so good it’s driving me crazy, really, really– c’mon.”

He might keep going forever if you don’t stop him, so you bring your hands from his shoulders to cup his face, that pretty, pretty face, trusting him and his strong arms to keep pace, dropping you up and down on his cock. “Want it, Mingi–” it’s whispered, an intimate promise, because you need him to know you need this as much as he does right now. “Want your cum, Mingi.”

And then you’ve lost any semblance of control over him, because now he’s thrusting up into with abandon, using his strong arm to bring you back down on him every time– one hand is still busying itself on your pulsating clit. His dick is kissing your g-spot with an almost cruel consistency too, he knows your body with a scary accuracy already, and a wicked, almost unrecognizable smirk spreads across his lips when he realizes you’re as close as he is. 

“Yeah,” and oh fuck, he’s growling as his thrusts grow sloppier and out of rhythm, but never shallow or unsatisfactory. If anything, the mindless state you’re both in has let him in even deeper on these thrusts. “Yeah, it’s good, yeah? And you want it, you need it– need my cum, need it in you, so deep in you, ‘s so deep– I need it too baby, I do, need it.”

Your legs are nearing a gelatin state, but motivation and his actual, physical help are keeping you going– and that pulsating, growing need in the deepest recesses of you. The primal, base need is growing– both to come all over him and make him come, to see him truly unravel.

You’re both so close, close enough to taste it, to know it’s already the best either of you have ever had, weed or no. And you’re both begging too, both begging each other to bring you right there, to the crest, both warbling out combinations of baby and please and need and cum and perfect and more and good and–

It happens in one moment, a chain reaction kind of moment, he bites down on your shoulder, hard, bruising, which, in turn has you clench around his cock, which makes him thrust into you, hitting you just right and your back arches, a bow pulled tight– and you cum in tandem, a rare phenomenon, satisfying in a way you’d never be able to describe. You’re shaking through your orgasm, the unreal pleasure sending shockwaves through your legs to your toes, enlongated by the feeling of Mingi flooding your cunt with wave after wave of his own cum, as he lets out a long, unbroken, almost melodic groan into your shoulder. He carries on with a few meeker thrusts, insistent on fucking his cum as deep into as possible in this deeply primal mindset you’ve taken him to. It’s unfair how good it feels, this warmth that reaches into you. He send a few more feeble jabs into you, whimpering meekly as he does, utterly undone. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he’s muttering into your skin. You’d make fun of him if your thoughts weren’t made up of much of the same. “Fuck. Shit.

“Hah,” you huff. “Yeah. Fuck, shit and all that.” You can feel him softening inside of you but he makes no effort to move, and is still holding you tight. You don’t try to move either. He presses his forehead against yours, and you’re acutely aware of how sweaty you both are, of your weed-thick, heavy breaths mingling, but you can’t find an inkling of yourself disgusted by him. 

He smiles at you and it’s the same as before you thought you even had a chance with him– wide and distinctly Mingi. 

“Fuck. Really thought I needed the second joint before I’d be able to do that..” he giggles, rocking you back and forth like he’s not literally currently inside you. “Yunho owes me twenty bucks.”

“I don’t know who Yunho is,” you pull back to look at him properly, his pupils still blown, hair an absolute mess. “But please don’t say some other guys name when you’ve just cum in me, yeah?”

You weren't sure what was going on with you here lately, but seeing your boyfriend doing absolutely anything was driving you up a wall. It couldn't be your ovulation, you had just gotten off your period, so you just chalked it up to it being your hormones going crazy. Whatever it was, it had you wanting to jump Hongjoong's bones any chance you got.

Even now, while you were sitting across from him at the dining table, with your friends eating dinner. You wanted nothing more than to have him bend you over the table and fucking you into oblivion. It was all too much; the overwhelming fire burning in your belly had you wanting to cry in desperation.

"Y/n, are you okay?" The sound of Seonghwa's voice pulled you from your thoughts, head twisting to look at the dark-haired male.

"Hmm, oh, I'm okay, just thinking." You hummed, averting your attention elsewhere as your cheeks heated up, realizing you had been caught fantasizing. However, that heat only grew when you caught your ginger-haired boyfriend's eye, his eyebrow cocked in a questioning manner.

"What's got your mind so occupied?" Wooyoung was the next to ask, watching as you grabbed your cup and brought it to your lips. You took a long drink before finally pulling the cup away and setting it back down.

"Just a project at work." You lied through your teeth, and Hongjoong knew that because you had finished the preparation for that project just the other day.

Then the conversation continues without a hitch, but you were starting to get antsy, wanting your boyfriend's attention. Your socked foot brushed against his calf, letting it trail up to his thigh before he caught your ankle in his hand. A small, innocent smile tugged on your lips as you met his dark eyes, clearly giving you a warning.

You continued teasing him all throughout dinner, and Hongjoong tried to tolerate your nonsense, but he was damn near his breaking point.

Then finally, finally, Seonghwa and Wooyoung left the house, bidding the two of you a good night. And as soon as that front door latched, Hongjoong's hand was wrapped snugly around your throat, causing you to gasp. He tugs you closer to him, fingertip pressing into your skin and limiting your oxygen supply as his nose brushes yours.

"You know, you've been acting like a fucking bitch in heat these past few days," He growled, obviously fed up with your incessant antics the past week, his teeth flashing as his upper lip pulled back into a snarl. You whimpered, wrapping your fingers around his wrist as your thighs squeezed together, "since you wanna be fucked so bad, you're gonna take it, and I better not hear you begging me to slow down or stop."

"Y-Yes, sir." You choked out, lust-filled eyes flickering up to meet Hongjoong's as a dark haze fell over them.

—

"Don't stop now, princess, you're the one who wanted this cock," Hongjoong growled, delivering a sharp smack to the already red skin of your ass, pulling a pathetic squeak from your saliva-slick lips. Your thighs were starting to burn as you fucked yourself on your boyfriend's aching cock. He's already fucked his cum deep into your womb two times before now, and he was still as hard as a rock.

"J-Joong, I can't…" You breathed out as the smooth head of his cock brushed over your sweet spot, making your mind go blank.

Hongjoong clicked his tongue before he was sitting up, hands gripping the fat of your ass, pulling your hips flush against his, "can't even follow simple instructions, are you really that desperate, babygirl?"

"Joongie!" You nearly screamed when he began thrusting his hips up into yours, his cock abusing your sweet spot and making you see stars. Your nails dug into his shoulders as your jaw fell slack. The pleasure was so overwhelming, and you felt like you were going to tear at the seams. "'S too much, Joongie, please."

"Yeah, right," Hongjoong growled, pistoning his cock deep into your walls, and the loud squelching sounds that came from where you were joined were deafening. The mixture of your and his cum trickled down the inside of your thighs before smearing onto ginger-haired males with every thrust.

"F-Fuck!" You moaned out, eyes rolling back as you felt that coil in the pit of your stomach beginning to form. You felt like a mess, and you were sure that you looked even more like one, but that was the least of your concerns when you felt Hongjoong's cock twitch in your walls.

"Gonna fuck my babies into you, how bout that? You'd love it, wouldn't you, princess, hmm?" Hongjoong sneered against the skin of your neck as he bit and sucked marks into the sensitive skin, and your walls clenched around him, giving him all the answer he needed despite your needy whining. "Give you what your slutty little pussy has been asking for."

"W-Wait, Joong—" You choked back a moan when you started to feel a weird pressure build up in the pit of your stomach, threatening to explode at any moment. However, your pleas fell on deaf ears, and Hongjoong continued to bully his length into your gummy walls.

Then you were cumming, body slumping onto his with a broken cry, your release gushing out in waves, drenching Hongjoong's cock and the couch cushions underneath his hips. The ginger-haired male bit back a groan as you clenched down around him like a vice, milking his cock for all it was worth as he came.

"J-Joongie…" You whined into his neck as he continued to roll your hips against his, prolonging both of your orgasms. Tears that had been sitting in the corner of your eyes broke free and streamed down your flushed cheeks.

Finally, he let up on your hips, letting you rest against him, and your body melted against his, thinking that he was finally done. But you were rudely torn away from that hope when he was pulling you from his lap, a gasp caught in your throat. The world turned violently around you as he moved you to the side of the couch, bending you over the arm.

"Oh, you didn't think I was done with you yet, did you, princess?" He asked condescendingly, moving the tip of his hard cock through your fold, using it to collect his cum that had seeped out and pushing it back into your walls. He continued to tease you, relishing in the way you whined and begged, body trembling under his. Then he was pushing in with a sharp, powerful thrust, causing you to cry out, "I'm not stopping until you're properly bred, sweetheart."

© 𝐬𝐭𝐱𝐫𝐫𝐲𝐰𝐨𝐨 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓 | 𝙙𝙤 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙖𝙡, 𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙜𝙞𝙖𝙧𝙞𝙨𝙚, 𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙨𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙚, 𝙤𝙧 𝙧𝙚𝙥𝙤𝙨𝙩 𝙖𝙣𝙮 𝙤𝙛 𝙢𝙮 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙠

seonghwa:

- barely notices it

- probably daydreaming about something

- but when he notices there's no feeling in his hand he panics

- softly lifts your head to retrieve his arm

you stir, feeling the weight of your head being lifted. you blink your eyes open and turn to find him looking guilty. "i'm sorry honey, rest up," he lays back down and pulls you close, "go back to sleep."

yunho:

- bro is immediately panicking

- do i wake them? do i suffer?

- he chooses that he'd rather suffer than wake you up.

- constantly flexing his fingers to make sure his arm doesn't go too numb

you stretch out your limbs and flip over, eyes landing on a very awake boy. he shoots up immediately and grabs his arm, flexing it to wake it up. "i'm sorry baby, go back to sleep," he breathes quick, "i didn't want to wake you but i might need to go to the ER." you giggle and force him to lie back down, this time making sure he's comfortable before drifting back off to sleep.

yeosang:

- he's fast asleep

- he doesn't even notice it

- bro is so chill

you adjust your position and wake up to the feeling of muscle beneath your head. you look, panic and turn over. "baby, i'm so sorry!" he's blinking his eyes at you, confused why you woke him up. in his dreamy state he flips on his back and draws you into his chest, and mumbles, "5 more minutes."

san:

- he's so happy

- not even a crane could tear that boy away from you

- omg they chose ME? hell yeah

- kinda creepy cause he's just watching you

hongjoong is the one to find you both on the couch, whispering to san, "you want some help?" he moves towards you both. "don't you dare," he whispers with a growl, using his free hand to pull you closer to him. hongjoong backs up.

mingi:

- panicking

- bro is so stressed he's going to wake you

- barely breathing

- barely alive

"baby?" he whispers so low he can barely hear himself. "ok princess, sleep well." he tries to fall asleep after but can't due to his arm. but eventually you turn, still asleep and cuddle into him. he finally breathes and hugs you tight.

wooyoung:

- oh he's so smug

- thought about waking you up to tease you about it

- but saw how content and sleepy you were and held back

- watching you like the yearner he is

"youngie?" you croak, stirring from sleep and feeling his burning stare. "yes darling?" he presses a kiss to your shoulder. "stop staring." "never."

jongho:

- tries to act nonchalant

- you're probably around the other members too

- they're teasing him about it

- but heaven forbid you try and move

you stir after hearing another round of giggles pass by the couch. when you catch on to what they're laughing about, he stops you. he uses his free arm to hold you down. "baby-" "no," he sterns, "you're right where you belong." and although his eyebrows are furrowed together, the kiss to your forehead is soft.

taglist:

You were currently lying on your back on the couch in the very spacious cabin Hongjoong had rented for a week and a half, and your body was not happy with the amount of moving you've been doing the past couple of days. Jet skiing, swimming, rock climbing, long hikes to gorgeous waterfalls and other breathtaking focal points— it was all a lot of fun, but even with the more relaxed day of board games and group painting on the back patio thrown into the mix, it wasn't enough rest for your body to not wake up this morning and immediately protest any ideas involving moving.

You drag yourself to the kitchen and take a seat at the island, watching the chaos of Wooyoung yelling at Mingi and Yeosang to get out of his cooking space or he'd hit them with the skillet he was using to make pancakes. Meanwhile, Jongho stole eggs from the plate sitting off to the side while the chef was distracted.

You feel a hand on your shoulder and turn to see Seonghwa walking into the kitchen with a sigh. He squeezes your shoulder in greeting with a sleepy smile before immediately herding Mingi and Yeosang back to the living room, distracting them with talks of the day ahead.

"So Yeosang, I ended up calling that place you mentioned with white water rafting and we're set to ride the rapids at 2!"

Seonghwa's voice floats into the kitchen from the living room and you turn your head in time to see Mingi cheer and a smile spread on Yeosang's face.

Rough water plus your tender body didn't seem like an equation that would work, and Seonghwa could tell from the face you unknowingly make.

"Not feeling it, doll?"

"Oh, sorry." You laugh sheepishly, "Didn't mean for it to show. I'm just a bit tired."

"That's fair. Don't worry about it, you can stay back today if you want, you won't be the only one anyway."

You furrow your brows in confusion as Hongjoong and San make their way down the stairs to join for breakfast. You do a quick headcount and come up short one person.

"Yunho?" You turn back to Seonghwa who nods.

"He's been in a mood all morning. Woke up with a scowl, I swear." Mingi chimes in from his spot on the couch, swiping through something mindlessly on his phone, "Told me to set his plate aside and leave him out of plans for today."

You frown at this news, a small inkling of worry wiggling it's way into your mind. You did notice that once you all came back in from the hike to the waterfall yesterday, he beelined it right to his room instead of staying downstairs to chat with everyone while dinner was made— but you chalked it up to exhaustion and him just wanting some time to himself. An assumption that was clearly wrong considering what Mingi just told you. You flip through yesterday in your head, trying to pinpoint what could've made him so irritable, but nothing comes to mind. Nothing out of the ordinary happened.

"Maybe you can check in on him, Y/N? He's always had a soft spot for you." Yeosang suggests, resting his elbows on his knees.

"Yeah, maybe I will once you guys head out. Leave a plate for me, I'm gonna shower." You stand up and stretch a bit, groaning as you hear several cracks ring out from your body before you relax.

"You got it, grandma!" Wooyoung calls from the kitchen, breaking out into loud laughter when you give him a death glare.

Refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reply, you head back upstairs— hoping a long, warm shower would be the thing to help ease your muscles.

Half a playlist later, you shut off the water and step out of the wet chamber that had become your sanctuary for the past 50 minutes. The boys were really sweet giving you the room with the ensuite bath— at first you turned it down, but now you were grateful that it only took you about 10 steps before you could faceplant into your soft bed. You listen to the hustle and bustle outside your bedroom door of everyone getting ready to head out for the day, and though you don't mean to, your eyes slip shut. Perhaps it was the really warm shower, or the soft robe you put on, or the softness of the mattress underneath your body, but one moment you're resting your eyes and the next the house is dead silent. You crack your eyes open, a yawn leaving you as you sit up and glance at the clock on the bedside table.

1:32 PM. You must've fallen asleep. Shit.

No doubt the boys had already left for the rapids, meaning you were here alone.

Wait, no, Yunho. Yunho was also here.

Your brain replays Mingi's words from this morning and you glance at your door, knowing Yunho and Mingi's room was right across from yours. Yeosang did task you with finding out what was up with him, now is a good a time as any.

Once you put on some actual clothes, of course.

You toss on the first oversized shirt, pair of panties, and sleep shorts you find in your drawers then make your way over to Yunho's door, putting an ear to it and try to listen for any sounds.

Silence.

You knock softly and wait for a response.

"I said I'm good. Go without me." Yunho speaks loudly to make sure his message gets through the door.

The monotone tone of his voice was foreign, a frown forming on your face at how wrong it felt to hear him like that.

"It's me. I stayed back too. Do you want to hang out just us? We can watch a movie while we eat breakfast or something. I wasn't feeling too sporty after yesterday's hike so..." You trail off, rocking back and forth on your heels as you wait for a reply.

There's silence for a moment before Yunho replies.

"I'm good."

The rejection shouldn't sting as much as it does. He has the right to say no, but he's never once told you no when you've asked him to hang out. Yunho was always the one super excited to spend time with you, so for him to turn you down in such a disinterested tone felt like a slap to the face.

"Oh..." You reply, cursing mentally when your voice cracks, "Okay. Sorry."

You turn and walk away from the door, body on autopilot as you go back to your room and shut the door behind you. Now that you were there, you didn't know exactly what you wanted to do. Eventually, you settle on laying in bed and turning on the TV, no longer feeling hungry despite knowing a plate awaits you downstairs.

Who needs Yunho anyway?

You swallow down the sad lump in your throat. Whatever. You'd enjoy some time alone, there was too much testosterone in the house anyway. You're ten minutes into a random action film when you hear a knock on your door. Your eyes dart to it, confused as to who could be there since Yunho was shut up in his room. Maybe one of the boys changed their mind and came back?

"Come in." You call out softly as you sit up.

The door opens slowly and in pops Yunho's head, looking at you like a puppy who got into something it shouldn't have and was now pleading for forgiveness.

"Hey..."

His voice drips with guilt and you fight the urge to forgive him too quickly. He had been rudely dismissive, he couldn't just come around with his big eyes and pathetic tone and expect to be immediately forgiven. You give him a light glare as you pull your blanket more on you.

"Hi."

An awkward silence settles in the air, the only sounds being the car chase happening on the TV you had completely forgotten about.

"Can I come in?"

"Oh, am I worthy of your time now?" You deadpan and Yunho sighs softly as he closes his eyes.

"I deserved that."

You hum in agreement, turning back to the TV as Yunho steps into the room and shuts the door behind him. He was in sweatpants and a loose tanktop with a lollipop hanging between his lips. He pushes the lollipop into his cheek as he walks over and sits on the edge of the bed, watching the action scene with you for a moment before he speaks again.

"I'm sorry for brushing you off like that. I've just been...in a mood lately."

"Yeah I noticed, that's why I came to check on you. Are you not having fun?"

Yunho turns to you with widened eyes, as if even the implication that he didn't wanna be here was appalling.

"I am! I love being with all of you, you know that. It's just..." He trails off, averting his gaze back to the TV.

"Just...?" You echo, hoping he'll continue what he was about to say.

Yunho sucks on the lollipop for a moment before he pulls it out of his mouth and rolls the stick between his fingers, watching it glisten in the light from the TV.

"I have this...habit?" He tests the word out, making a face as he realizes it doesn't fit what he means, "Urge? Yeah, urge. An urge that I can't sate while I'm out here. I thought I'd be fine but it's starting to get to me and make me irritated."

You tilt your head, thinking over what Yunho is sharing. He has an urge he can't sate and it's making him moody. What kind of urge could have that big of a hold on him and his mood?

"Is it a gaming thing?" You ask, taking a shot in the dark.

Yunho huffs out a humorless laugh.

"I fucking wish. Would be easier to deal with if it was."

"Okay then, what is it?"

Yunho's cheeks start turning red as he puts the lollipop back in his mouth and rolls it around his tongue for a moment, thinking to himself before he responds.

"No judgment?"

"Is that even a question? You're my best friend. I wouldn't ever judge you, nothing you say will make me look at you differently." You say surely with a warm smile, scooting closer to put an arm around his shoulder.

Yunho gives you a grateful smile before he pulls the candy out of his mouth again.

"You know what an oral fixation is?"

The question makes your brain stutter for a moment as you blink at your best friend a few times.

Okay— that wasn't what you were expecting.

"Yeah...I do." You nod slowly, brows creasing in confusion.

Where was he going with this? You follow his gaze down to the lollipop and the gears in your head start turning. Yunho had been chewing gum, sucking on candies, and chewing on straws in his water bottles this whole trip. You didn't think much of it, but with this question it was starting to make sense.

"You have an oral fixation...and the things you brought to curb it aren't working enough?" You speak slowly, piecing it together as you go.

Yunho sighs deeply as if a weight has been lifted off his shoulders as he nods his head.

"It's getting to the point where I'm getting irritable and I hate it but I also can't help it. I'm so used to having someone sate it that I never imagined it becoming this much of an issue for me."

Yunho runs a hand through his hair, putting the candy back into his mouth and bitterly biting at it.

"Self-soothing isn't working, and whoever you have sate it is obviously not here with us." You say, Yunho nods to affirm what you said.

"So...I'm almost scared to ask. How do you usually sate it?" You ask and a small smile tugs at Yunho's lips.

"I'm sure you can imagine the ways one can use their mouth on someone. I'm not picky as long as it's someone else's, can't explain why but my own fingers and stuff don't do it for me like someone else's fingers."

You nod in understanding, mind running a mile a minute as you process the information Yunho is sharing.

"So sucking on someone else's fingers could help?"

Yunho's eyes light up like a Christmas tree at the mere thought and you fight the urge to giggle at him.

"Absolutely." He confirms, "God, I'd kill for that right now."

The thought is one you shouldn't entertain, but you have at least 5 more days out here and you really didn't want Yunho to be miserable and in his room for most of it. So regardless of the warning bells in your mind, you still let the thought fall from your lips.

"Then you can suck on mine if you want."

You hear a loud crunch as Yunho bites straight through the lollipop, a chunk flying out of his mouth and to the floor but neither of you acknowledge it as your words hang in the air. He turns his head to you with a look of pure shock.

"W-What? You really mean that?"

His wide eyes hold a level of joy you've only seen when he's fresh off the stage or just ranked up in a game. There was no way in hell you'd take it back when he was looking at you like you held the answer to all his problems. You nod with a small shy smile.

"It's just fingers. A small favor if it means you'll go back to enjoying the trip. Plus it's only us home so no worries of the guys seeing it." You reason, shrugging a bit despite how your heart thumps against your chest.

"I owe you. So much. Seriously, thank you."

Yunho gives you a big hug, his gratitude is clear in how tight he squeezes and rocks you side to side lightly before he gets up to throw his lollipop stick away. You watch him for a moment before your eyes flicker back to the movie on the TV. The loud explosions and gunshots should serve as the perfect distraction as Yunho got his urges out of his system.

You lay back, propping your head up on two pillows so you can easily see the TV while comfortable. Yunho makes his way over, settling in the bed next to you and resting his head on your tummy as he curls into your side. It's a little amusing seeing such a tall man curl up on you like this, but he was clearly comfortable in how he hums in satisfaction and relaxes against the bed.

"Oh, I do want to warn you that I may drool a bit. So if you want me to like...move your shirt out the way so I don't stain it, just let me know." Yunho says as he tilts his head back to look up at you.

It isn't that you didn't hear his question, it's that your brain needed a minute to truly take in what Yunho's said. He's rested against your bare skin before, usually shoulders or putting his chin in your neck but nothing to do with your stomach. It felt strangely intimate but also the thought of spit soaking into your shirt wasn't appealing, it would be easier to clean your skin. So you nod to show it was okay and Yunho gently pushes your shirt up before resting his cheek on your bare stomach and facing the TV in front of both of you. His warmth was pleasant despite the odd circumstances that led here so you find yourself relaxing into the bed easily as you move your right hand to gently pet his head like you always do. You feel his cheek shift up as he smiles at your gentle affection, relaxing further into your side.

"Whenever you're ready." Yunho hums softly, eyelids starting to feel heavy with how comfortable he was.

He couldn't help it, the puppy jokes weren't too off base considering how much he likes it when you rub his head. There's a light flutter in your stomach as you slowly move your left hand to his face. Yunho parts his lips, gently taking your wrist and putting your pointer and middle finger into his mouth. The sensation was foreign, a bit weird considering you've never had someone do this to you before, but the content sigh that leaves Yunho as his lips wrap around your fingers makes you suck it up and endure the weird feelings that were settling into you. Instead you try to hone in on the movie in front of you, watching the main character make a speech to his team about whatever dangerous mission they were going to embark on.

Perhaps if you could've spoken to Yunho it would've been easier to take your mind off what's currently happening, but his mouth was occupied which means you were left to sit with only your thoughts and the soundtrack of the movie playing on the TV.

The former was extremely unhelpful.

No matter how much you try to focus on the high intense scenes playing in front of you, your brain chooses to focus on how Yunho's tongue gently swirls around the pads of your fingers with a practiced ease that made your stomach flip. How he sucks so tenderly and sometimes bites down softly before he swallows around them. How every so often you'll hear a slurp of him trying to keep his drool in his mouth and it makes your thighs clench involuntarily. How his thumb rubs circles on your wrist right over your pulse point which you're sure is broadcasting that your heart is racing. How his breathing has gotten slightly heavier and though his tongue's movements were lazy, his eagerness for your digits is clear in how he has yet to let go of your wrist, as if he's scared you'll pull his salvation away.

It was an agony you had no idea was coming when you agreed to something that seemed simple. Your mind wanders to how his tongue would feel elsewhere, with each swipe of his tongue a spark of arousal finds its way into your body until a dim fire is simmering right between your thighs. Thank God Yunho couldn't see your face at this angle, you can't imagine you were able to hide how you were feeling now, especially with your nipples annoyingly poking through your shirt in a way that your best friend would likely instantly notice the moment he looked up at you.

How would you get out of this situation in a way that wasn't extremely awkward? Logically speaking, you knew Yunho was respectful enough to not point out your hard nipples even if he did notice them. If anything he'd just thank you for the help and hug you before returning to his room and you both pretend this never happened.

But what if logic wasn't what controlled you in this moment?

A once small desire has bubbled into a bigger problem, gripping at your resolve and weakening it to the point of winning you over. It had been a while since you've gotten off, even longer since you'd gotten off with a partner, and you had been yearning for it for a while. You didn't think you'd ever put your best friend in the position of fulfilling that yearn but with each suckle on your fingers, he was looking more and more like the perfect fit for it. You squirm lightly with the next swallow around your fingers, clearing your throat to speak.

"How are you feeling?"

Yunho perks up, tilting his head back to look at you. You watch his gaze land on your tits before they lifted to your face, a haze in his eyes you've never seen before. He smiles at you, slurping before letting go of your fingers with a pop.

"Amazing. You?" He asks, voice dropped into an octave that made your heart skip.

That dangerous want rears its head harder than before, whispering at you to let the lines blur for just this one time. Who could pass up a tongue like that?

"I, um..." You trail off, voice light and airy, betraying your attempt to seem unaffected.

Despite your brain racing endlessly for the past 5 minutes, you can't form any words to exactly describe how you felt beside 'horny' and you'd rather sink into the ground than say that. Though it seems Yunho may be able to see your thoughts because the smallest smirk tugs at his lips as he takes in your current state.

He's seen that type of look too often to not know what you were feeling right now, but instead of calling you out on it, he gently pushes his hips forward against you. Something hard presses against your leg and your eyes widen as you realize exactly what's being pressed against you, your body tensing as the reality that Yunho is hard crashes into your already scrambled mind. You barely have time to assess how that makes you feel before Yunho pulls his hips back to their previous position, an almost playful twinkle passing through his eyes.

Despite the space he's put between you both, you can almost still feel it against your leg. As if an imprint has been left behind, like footsteps in fresh snow. Your leg twitches, itching to follow Yunho's hips and press against him again, to feel him— hard, thick, warm against your bare skin.

These new feelings for the man currently watching your face are almost overwhelming, your mind and body at odds between jumping his bones and remembering this was your best friend not a random guy you met on Tinder.

"You...?" Yunho repeats, tilting his head as amusement slips into his stare.

He was enjoying seeing you melt like this. A light annoyance starts forming words on your tongue, ready to sass Yunho, but then he takes your fingers back into his mouth. He keeps his eyes locked on yours as he slowly drags his tongue between them before sucking them deeper in. Any words melt off your mind as he sits up and turns to face you, his free hand running up your forearm and leaving goosebumps in its wake.

"You know when you offered to give me your fingers, I wondered if you'd feel it." Yunho muses, his speech is a bit slurred around your fingers but you understand him just fine, "Any time I get my mouth on someone, things tend to escalate. I'm really good with my tongue, at least that's what I've been told."

You swallow thickly, eyes trained on Yunho's lips as his breath fans over your hand and his tongue works your fingers like they would over a clit. You swear you go lightheaded for a moment at the thought of a tongue this precise being between your legs, and if you're picking up the energy Yunho is putting off as he stares a hole in your face, he wouldn't be against that idea.

"I didn't think it'd be this intense." You confess, heat flooding your cheeks as Yunho pops your fingers out of his mouth again, licking his lips.

"Fingers seem innocent enough." He agrees, "Until you realize where else it can lead."

His eyes trail down your body, as if he could see through your pajamas. Like he knows you were staining your panties as he sits beside you, thinking about his mouth and what it could do to you. Yunho sets down your hand, leaning forward until his lips hover right by your ear.

"If you want it, all you have to do is ask." He whispers, warm breath fanning over your skin, "I promise I'll make you feel good, but I'll warn you that I can be...insatiable, and I've been dying to have someone on my tongue. I can't promise I'll be able to control myself."

The arousal flowing through your body made you feel delirious, breathing getting heavy as Yunho's words go straight to your core. For a moment you mull over whether this is a good idea or not, but then you remember the taunting drag of his tongue on your fingers, the thick bulge he pressed into your leg, his fingers sliding along your skin and you nod without realizing it— your body coming to a conclusion before your brain can kick in to stop it.

"Please. Show me what else you can do."

A deep rumble of satisfaction leaves Yunho's chest as his soft lips drag over the shell of your ear down to your neck.

"Anywhere I want?" He whispers, lips brushing against your skin.

Automatically your head falls back to give him more space, craving more of him. Any opposing thoughts you may of had fade into the background, the need in your body burning bright enough to turn them to ash, leaning behind only the desire to chase the wisps of pleasure Yunho is giving you. You give him a quick nod as you lick your lips.

"Anywhere."

Yunho wastes no time in pressing his lips to your heated skin, trailing kisses to your collarbone before moving up to your jaw. His hand moves to the back of your neck, fingers gripping your hair to keep you exactly where he wanted you as he bites down. You keen softly, hand flying to his shirt to grip it in your fist. You didn't pull him in or push him away, it was an anchor that kept you in the moment before you floated away under the greed on his tongue and teeth.

The sounds leaving Yunho's throat were new to you: guttural, gritty, deep, hungry. Something in them made your body go completely pliant under him as if a spell was casted over you, making you surrender to the man who was currently moving his mouth to your chest while his free hand creeps up your stomach to go under your shirt. You arch into his hand more as he cups and squeezes your breast, your nipple dragging against his palm as he gropes you. Your eyes flutter shut when his lips continue down to the neckline of your shirt. He's quick to move his hand from your hair to push your shirt up to your neck. He pulls back to look down at your now exposed chest, eyes drinking the expanse of skin he has at his disposal.

"How do you feel about marks?" He asks before wetting his thumb and circling it around your nipple, relishing in your soft whine.

"Keep them somewhere I can hide is all I ask."

Yunho nods in response before he lowers his mouth down and takes your other nipple into his mouth, a gritty groan leaving his throat as he finally sates the unreachable itch he's had for the past couple days. You arch your back lightly, rubbing your thighs together for some relief as Yunho takes his time circling his tongue around your stiffened bud.

When Yunho warned you about being insatiable, you expected him to be rushed or impatient in how he devoured you, but you couldn't have been more wrong. His tongue's swirls and flicks are calm, slow, intentional. While you compared insatiable to an all-consuming greed that would quickly overwhelm you— Yunho's greed showed itself in a patient game that built upon itself with each trace of his warm tongue along your skin until you're left panting, whining, moments away from begging him for more. He toys with your chest, switching between sucks, flicks, and swirls on one nipple and almost like he could read your mind he would switch to the other one when it started feeling neglected.

Sometimes his eyes would stay shut, savoring your skin against his lips with a slight raise of his brows being the only tell giving away his state of bliss. Sometimes you'd let out a whimper he really likes and his darkened eyes would lock onto yours, the intensity in them sending a pulse of pleasure down to your core, legs clenching together as your mind starts to slip into a fuzzy warmth.

"Y-Yunho-" You whine his name breathlessly, his next harsh suck at your skin making your body shudder underneath him.

"Mmm?" He hums low against your skin, eyes flickering to your face as he bites down hard enough to leave yet another hickey on the side of your chest where he knew you could hide it.

His hands rub at your sides, sometimes moving up to lightly pull at your nipples and roll them between his fingers but it felt like an afterthought compared to his mouth. Hot, precise, messy as he descends even further down your body, kissing and nipping at the skin on your stomach. Your reply is lost in the soft whimper you let out when one of his hands makes it's way to your legs, spreading them apart so he can rub at your inner thigh— nails lightly dragging down the sensitive skin.

"What is it, sweetheart? Talk to Yuyu." He coos sweetly, but the look on his face didn't match his tone at all.

A knowing smirk pulling at the corners of his lips, like he knew exactly what it is you wanted to say but couldn't get out of your fog-filled mind. Instead of words you settle on threading your fingers through his soft, black locks and pulling at them, making him groan deeply and his smirk only widens further. You kept playing into exactly what he wanted and you had no idea.

"Too much? Should I stop?" He tilts his head into your grip, hand slipping back toward your knee and you instinctively clamp your legs shut, capturing his hand.

"Don't you even think about it." You hiss between pants, the small bubble of irritation at his smugness breaking the haze in your mind just enough to get words out.

Yunho chuckles— a deep, honeyed sound that makes your thighs clench around his currently captured hand. Of course he notices and though he doesn't say anything, you can see the amusement in his eyes as his hand grips at your thigh as best as it can.

You've never seen Yunho so cocky or smug before and something about it made you itch to knock him down a peg or two.

"You know for someone who claimed they were dying to have someone on their tongue, you sure are taking your time messing with me. Makes me wonder if you really have an oral fixation or if you just wanted an excuse to sleep with me." You jeered while rolling your eyes.

The surge of brattiness isn't one you expected to come out of you but with how wet you were and the lack of Yunho moving to where you so clearly wanted him, it was only a matter of time. Yunho raises a brow at you as he pulls back from your stomach to sit up next to your hips, your hand forced to fall from his hair due to him going out of your reach. You wait for a retort, a scolding, a correction of some sort, but instead Yunho gives you a smile.

"Oh, am I taking too long?" He asks, eyes trailing down your body and taking in the sight of the many hickeys littering your tits and upper stomach.

The lack of bite back makes your response come out stammered, uncertain.

"Y-Yeah. Want more."

Yunho is quiet for a moment, his face unreadable, then he nods once and smiles at you.

"Okay, sweetheart. Whatever you want."

He takes the hand that fell to your side and kisses the back of it before setting it back on the sheets and your confusion only intensifies. You've never bratted your way into anything other than some sort of punishment— for a second you wonder if perhaps Yunho wasn't the type to respond to acting up and instead the type to give what you want when he's asked.

Strange. A small part of you was disappointed in his lack of response, but that quickly dissipates when you feel Yunho's fingers dip into the side of your shorts and panties. You lift your hips and let him tug them clean off your body, face growing hot as he pushes your legs apart and settles himself between them. His eyes stayed glued to your dripping wet core, a deep hunger in his gaze as his hands move to your hips and yanks you down to be more level with him.

"Look at you. So wet for me." He murmurs against your skin as he gently kisses up your inner thigh.

Your breathing quickens, thighs trembling as his tongue peaks out to swipe along your skin. His thumbs rub circles into your thighs as he continues his trail of kisses, making his way closer and closer to where you were aching for him. Soon his kisses lead him right to your pussy— you can feel his breath on your aching clit and your hips buck upward, begging for him to finally put his tongue where you've been imagining it since he started sucking your fingers. His gaze flits to your face as his grip tightens on your hips to keep you down, then without breaking eye contact, he flattens his tongue and licks over your clit slowly.

The same motions he made over the pad of your fingers are repeated over your clit but with more intent behind his actions— a deadlier precision to the swipes of his tongue as he takes in your reactions and adjusts to what makes your face twist in pleasure more. Which patterns make your thighs tremble around his head, how harsh and long he could suck before you start tugging at his hair— he read your body like a book until he developed the perfect routine to make your eyes roll into your skull, your hips fight his grip, and your cries bounce off the walls.

Meanwhile your mind was reeling from the pleasure coursing through your body. Yunho's previous warning that you used as a taunt turned into a reality you couldn't have prepared for. The continuous wind up from his tongue on your neck, then your chest, then your stomach and now your clit has left your body feeling tight, hot, seconds away from snapping before he's even been down there for too long. When he lets out a long moan into your pussy, the vibrations sending another pulse of pleasure straight up your spine, you know you're hitting your limit.

"Yu-Yun-" You stutter between whimpers, back bowing as the next drag of his filthy tongue makes you moan loudly.

Somewhere in your clouded mind you decide it would be a good idea to lift your head and look down at the man currently between your legs, licking at you like a sweet treat he couldn't bear to be separated from. His hair is a mess, thanks to your frantic hands, eyes closed with his eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he savored you on his tongue, skin lightly sheened with sweat. As if he can feel your stare on him, in that moment his eyes snap open— smoldering, dark gaze meeting yours and the heat from his stare sends a surge of arousal through your body that sends you crashing over the edge. The world goes white for a moment and you let out a loud cry as your orgasm rips through your body, trembling in Yunho's grip as your toes curl and he chooses that moment to slip a finger into you.

A whimper leaves your throat as your walls flutter around the digit, brain still returning to Earth as he keeps his tongue flicking over your clit, working you through your orgasm. As your climax subsides what was once helping you ride the waves of pleasure becomes overstimulating pumps of his finger deep inside of you and your hips try to squirm away from his insistent tongue still dragging filthy patterns over your now tingling clit.

"Y-Yunho, sensitive-" You force the words out of you, fighting against his grip.

But he doesn't pull away entirely like you expect him too. Instead he works a second finger into you, curling them against your still twitching walls as he pulls his mouth from your clit to speak.

"One more time, sweetheart?" He asks, a sweet lilt to his deepened voice that makes you clench on his fingers.

"S-Sen-" You start to repeat yourself but then he presses into that spongy little spot inside of you that makes your eyes cross.

"But you wanted more, didn't you?" He purrs, flashing a smile at you that didn't reach his eyes at all, a sadism seeping into his tone as his fingers pick up speed, "Weren't you the one rushing me earlier? Saying I was just using this as an excuse to fuck you?"

Yunho leans forward to hover over your trembling figure— amused eyes meeting your teary ones as you fight to get anything beyond whines and whimpers to come out of your mouth and fail miserably, only able to grip at his shirt with a pleading look. His smile only widens at how helpless you look beneath him.

"See, I would've let that be the end, but you just had to run that pretty little mouth. You had to rush me. Impatient little brat you are." He hums, lowering his head to kiss and nip at your neck again.

Your legs try to close but his body is more than effective at keeping you spread for him, his weight keeping you still enough that he can keep thrusting his fingers into your sweet spot. Your overtuned body tries to move away from the stimulation, but there was nowhere to go. He had you trapped under his big body, at the mercy of his ministrations that refused to slow down even as tears stream down your face.

"You wanted to cum so bad, didn't you? Well, go ahead." He husks into your ear, "Cum."

Your body responds to his words like a command, a second orgasm hitting you so hard you sob as it rolls through you, every nerve in your body feeling set alight.

"Good girl." He coos, kissing your jaw before swiping his tongue over your tears with a dark chuckle, "Now you're gonna keep cumming since you wanted it so badly.”

A third finger slips into your sopping wet heat and you thrash against him, more tears streaming down your face as the pleasure becomes almost disorienting at this point. His thumb on your clit rubbing circles in time with his thrusting fingers is what breaks you, the words jumping out of your mouth before you even realize it.

"S-Sorry! 'm sorry!" You yell between the sobs wracking through your chest.

"Hm? What was that, sweetheart?" Yunho asks, fingers slowing down just a bit, but that slight reprieve was enough to set off more apologies.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry—" You ramble repeatedly, wet eyes locking onto his as he pulls back to look at your completely wrecked face.

"Oh, you're sorry? For what?"

His fingers keep slowing down gradually as he gives you a chance to fix your earlier mistake.

"F-For rushing you! For being a b-brat, I'm sorry! P-Please, please, I'm sorry-"

Yunho looks over your teary eyes, the annoyance from earlier long gone from them— all that's left is a desperate, pleading look of pure submission that makes his cock throb in his boxers. You were so pretty when you cried for him, even prettier when you submitted to him. His fingers finally come to a stop and you let out a deep sigh of relief as your body goes limp against the bed.

Your heart hammers in your ears as you try to catch your breath. Yunho pulls his fingers from your twitching heat making you whimper at the loss but also at how sensitive you were. You watch him bring his fingers to his mouth and groan deeply as he sucks them clean, a small bolt of desire still finding its way to your core despite your sensitivity. Yunho sits back on his knees for a moment and you watch his face as he seems to think over something. Your gaze naturally lingers down his body and you stop at the tent in his sweatpants.

Oh yeah. He didn't really get off, did he? The agreement was to sate his fixation and it seems to have worked considering his much happier state, but still...he didn't get to cum, and that bothered you more than you'd like to admit. He made you feel amazing, you wanted him to feel good too.

Yunho starts to get off the bed but you grab his arm before he can and pull him back toward you. He looks back at you with a questioning glance.

"Yeah? You okay? Was it too much?" He asks, concern filling his gaze as he crawls back to you and looks over your face.

There's your Yuyu. Sweet, caring Yuyu.

You ignore how the fondness in your chest morphs into something else for a moment, opting instead to move your grip from his arm to his shirt and continue pulling him until he hovered over you again with one hand holding him up. His confusion only deepens as you move him where you want him.

"Y/N? What are you...?" He begins to question, but when you lock your legs around his waist and gently roll your hips, whimpering at the stimulation that still felt a little too raw, he goes quiet.

Yunho's eyes widen as what you want suddenly clicks in his head. He looks down at where you're both pressed against each other before his eyes go back to yours.

"Oh you don't have to worry about me. You did your part, the fixation is sated. That's all we agreed on." Yunho assures you, a hand rubbing up and down your arm.

"I know, but..." You trail off, heat flooding your cheeks as you look away, stomach flipping as you continue, "I want to."

Yunho's brows raise in shock, not expecting you to actually want to go any further than this. His free hand turns your head back to face him, a soft expression on his face as he gently cups your cheek.

"Are you absolutely sure? You don't owe me this and I won't be mad if you change your mind. I just don't want you to regret this. I can always go rub one out in the shower like a normal person."

You burst into giggles at that and Yunho can't help the smile that makes it way to his face at your clear joy.

"I'm sure, Yunho. Very sure, just take it easy on me? Still a little sensitive." You run your fingers through his hair and he nods with a small chuckle.

He gently unwraps your legs from him so he can stand up to take off his clothes and you take the moment to throw aside the shirt that was still hiked up to your collarbone. When you turn your attention back to Yunho he's crawling between your legs again, stroking himself with one hand while he gets settled and the sheer size of him makes you clench around nothing. Good thing he used three fingers on you earlier, it was prep that you unknowingly needed for what was coming. Yunho starts to position himself when he suddenly goes still.

"Yuyu?" You call to him, tilting your head a bit as he lets out a sigh.

"I don't have a condom. I didn't pack any." He groans, anguish in his voice like it physically pains him to start pulling away from your dripping core.

But you clamp your legs around his hips to stop him and he meets your gaze with a raised brow.

"Are you clean?"

"Of course! I don't mess around with things like that." He balks, understanding why you asked, but still semi-offended you asked anyway.

"So am I." You say between amused giggles at his facial expression, "Just pull out."

Yunho blinks once, twice, before a familiar heat settles into his gaze again. He looks at you, spread open in front of him, completely bare and wanting him so much you were willing to forgo a condom. His cock twitches and your eyes flicker down to the movement, biting your lip as you spread your legs further to invite him in. He takes the invitation immediately, one hand settling next to your waist to hold himself up as his other hand lines himself to slide into you. He taps his tip against your clit a few times, relishing in your soft whimpers and how your hips jolt at the stimulation before finally angling himself and sinking into you slowly.

You keen at the stretch, forcing yourself to stay relaxed as Yunho carefully sinks into you with a soft hiss. Every nerve in his body begs him to fuck into you already but your words about taking it easy continuously ring in his mind. By the time he's fully sheathed inside of you, you feel full. Completely and utterly full, like he was somehow reaching your lungs and taking the air out of them. Yunho leans over more, eyes searching your face for discomfort and your breath catches in your throat.

The current energy was different than what crackled in the air in the beginning. Before there was a burning need in every motion between you two, greedily sating all urges and desires until nothing was left but satisfaction. Now, with him deep as he can be inside of you, looking at you with his usual caring, concerned eyes, his hand gentle on your waist— you find your heart leaping into your throat and your face flooding with so much heat you want to sink into the ground. Yunho just smiles once he sees there's no discomfort to be found and leans down to gently kiss your neck.

"I'm gonna move now, alright?" He whispers against your heated skin.

You bite down on your lip, cursing mentally at how your walls clench around him from his whisper as you nod in response, not trusting your words at the moment.

He pulls out halfway before rolling his hips back into you and your hands fly to his back, digging your nails into it as some lingering wisps of overstimulation run through your body, but at a level that leans toward pleasure over pain. You hide your face in Yunho's neck— your moans and whimpers spilling onto his slick skin as he keeps rocking into you slow but firmly.

Yunho grits his teeth as his eyes squeeze shut, fighting every instinct in his being as you unknowingly pull at every loose end he has, unraveling his resolve slowly. Each whine into his skin, each drag of your nails down his back, each sigh of his name when he rocks into your sweet spot, each clench of your walls around his cock. He pulls away from your neck, intending to warn you of what you're doing to him, but his words catch in his throat when he sees your face— your fucked out, blissful face. Parted lips, tongue lightly poking out of them as you breathe heavily, glassy, wet eyes giving him such a needy look it makes his cock twitch. When your eyes flicker down to his lips, he can't help but give you exactly what you're wordlessly pleading for.

Your lips meet in a soft kiss that Yunho intends to keep that way, until your fingers thread into his hair again and pull. His hips snap forward harshly at the pleasurable burn on his scalp, an instinctive action that makes you cry out his name against his lips and he decides he really likes how you sound when you're crying his name like that.

So against his logical mind's better judgment, he starts to fuck you harder— not plowing into you, just putting slightly more weight behind his thrusts, enough to make you bounce against the bed and the headboard to start gently knocking against the wall. When your reaction is to pull at his hair and claw at his back once more, his hips start rocking even faster, fisting the sheets beneath his hands as he breaks the kiss to focus on keeping his pace steady and deep in you.

He watches you fall apart yet again— soft whimpers becoming louder cries, wet eyes becoming overflowing, back arching into him, nails scratching at him in ways he knows will leave marks but he doesn't care. Not when you're singing his name so sweetly and looking at him like that. Not when you're gripping him like you never want his cock to leave you every time he pulls out until only his tip is in.

"F-Fuck, I'm getting close." He rasps, looking at where you two connect and biting back a groan at how wet his dick was and what a mess you've left on his hips.

"M-Me too, just a bit more, Yuyu." You pant before pulling him back into a desperate kiss, hips bucking up to meet his thrusts.

Yunho's hand cups your cheek as the kiss gets messy, with you bouncing from his thrusts it's hard to keep your lips locked but neither of you care as you get closer to your shared high. You feel a hand sneak between your legs to rub circles on your clit in time with his strokes and it only takes four circles before your eyes are rolling back and you're cumming around Yunho with a silent cry. Yunho has to stop moving his hips entirely to focus on not emptying his balls into you because the way you clench around him makes his body feel like you're begging for it, desperate to be filled with his warm load— but no, not this time. He had to keep to your request, so his fingers on your clit help you ride out the high. He cuts it dangerously close, barely pulling out with enough time to spill his seed all over your mound and lower stomach without even needing to stroke himself.

His large frame collapses a bit onto you and for a while you both lie there, breathing heavily. Eventually Yunho rolls off of you, relaxing into the bed as he stares at the ceiling. You turn your head to Yunho and he turns to meet your gaze, smiling softly at how cute you looked all worn out like this.

"Come here, sweetheart."

Yunho has called you that pet name more times than you can count, but this time it sets a flutter into your stomach and you dip your head into his neck to hide your face as heat rises into your cheeks again. Yunho laughs softly, pulling your body against him and putting an arm around you as you settle on his chest.

The cabin is quiet except for the credits rolling on the movie faintly in the background, but neither of you feel the need to speak. Despite the questions rolling around in both of your minds, you don't say a word. Instead, you let exhaustion take you under and before you know it, you're asleep on Yunho's chest. Yunho glances down when he notices your slowed breathing, pressing a soft kiss to your head before lying on the pillow again. He'd wake you up in a bit to clean up and eat, he did a number on you and you could take a few minutes to recuperate. Plus, he liked your weight pressing on him like this. A closeness he's had with you before but not exactly like this, though he didn't mind it at all. Matter of fact, he liked it.

Huh, who woulda thought? Certainly not Yunho.

He looks at your face one more time, trying to place a finger on the feelings blooming in his chest, but ultimately he gives up because his brain was not entirely here in the moment. For now, he would just hum a song softly as he traces shapes in your skin.

For now, he'd see this as a one-off favor that went a bit further than intended. Nothing more, nothing less.

For now.

please do not repost my works. thank you for reading!

You bring his head close to your chest as you wrap your arms around him, “What do you want baby?” A kiss is planted on San’s forehead as he looks up at you. “Can I eat you out..?” Your eyes shut in confusion before darting to the alarm clock by the bedside table. “At 4:30 AM? Really?” He nods against you in response as his lips bring heat to your skin through the thin camisole you wear to sleep.

“Please, I have too much energy, I need you..”

The whiny noise that came from his mouth after those three words sent butterflies straight to your core. He doesn’t wait for a reply as he starts planting soft kisses across your stomach, his hands bunching up the fabric of your camisole to your chest.

“You know I’ll treat you so well.. I’ll give you everything.. Please..” The sight of your bare tits hits him hard, his bottom lip quivers at the sight of the buds hardening under his fingertips. San drags his tongue from his stomach up to your nipple. His tongue swirls around the bud before his lips close around the areola and sucks hard.

“San!” A squeal escapes your mouth and it causes him to pull away with a chuckle. “Sorry..” His apology seems fake as a slight smirk is planted on his face while his tongue continues to swirl around your nipple.

“San.. go lower..” San looks up at you with a spark in his eyes, a string of saliva dripping down from his mouth to your chest.

“I thought you said you needed me, I’m giving you permission, idiot.”

He wastes no time with his actions, in one moment he’s licking up the saliva he left on your chest and in the next, he’s got your thighs spread in his hold and his face buried into the center of your sleeping shorts. A deep inhale followed by a sigh of relief is heard from the man as you feel the tip of his nose nudging against your sensitive clit.

Your mouth gapes open with a choked up moan as San gives a long lick through the fabric. He pulls back for just a second to glance at your disheveled appearance. The mess in your hair from thrashing around your head in the pillow, the bunched up camisole above your chest which is glistening from his saliva. And, the picture-like view in front of his eyes, your shorts are thin enough for him to make out the picture of your core, practically crying out for him through the soaked panties.

San gives one last kiss to your core before ripping your thin shorts and moving your panties to the side. He practically buries his face into your pussy and groans at the feeling of your juices covering his face. He’s got his arms holding down your quivering thighs as he eats you out like a starving man.

“So warm..” San whines into your core, he takes two fingers and spreads your lips apart to give himself a larger area to let his spit pool up in. He uses those two fingers and circle around your opening that’s pulsing with need, “She’s calling out for me.” His fingers plunge in with no resistance and he glances up at your face to watch the reaction you always have to his thick fingers inside of you.

Your hips buck up and a hand lands in San’s hair, a moan escapes you as his fingers drag against your walls. The fingers in his hair tug him closer to your core and he’s more than happy to wrap his lips around your puffy clit.

He feels the first signs of your release coming from your legs. The shaking from them against his arms encourage him to go harder. His fingers plunge deeper in you at a faster rate and the sight of them glistening with your juices bring groans out of him and he subconsciously starts to grind against the mattress.

You feel the knot start to unravel within you once he removes his lips off your clit and replaces it with his calloused thumb, the rough padding of his finger doing wonders to you. San can’t get enough of your taste as he fits his tongue alongside his fingers inside of you, wanting to get a better taste as your climax arrives with a bang.

The high pitched moan that comes out of you with a harsh tug to San’s hair is what signals the start of your release. Moans from the both of you echo off the walls of your bedroom, even some whines from San as his grinding against the mattress grow more desperate. Once he knows you’re done gushing all over his fingers and face, he pulls his fingers out with his tongue dragging itself over the digits making sure not to waste a single drop.

Soft whimpers escape your mouth as San cleans up your juices with his mouth. The man, now exhausted, rests his head on your twitchy thigh. A bead of sweat drips down his forehead and he’s seems to be catching his breath, but for different reasons than you think.

“I think I just came in my pants..”

masterlist

author's good-bye: sooooo.... hehe, raise your hand if you gooned to this and thank you to @jaehunnyy for beta reading ily

☆★☆ taglist: @from-izzy, @jaehunnyy

You’re bundled up on your couch like a little blanket burrito, deep into an episode of Gachiakuta when you hear the familiar beep of the keypad on your door being unlocked. You don’t get up; you already know who it is given that only one other person has the code. The sound of him kicking off his shoes echoes down the short hallway, followed by the distinctive drag of his feet, that lazy shuffle he does when he’s exhausted.

“Fuck, baby, why’s it so cold in here?” Mingi’s voice carries from the hallway before he even rounds the corner. You hear him pause at the heating panel on the wall, and you can picture the exact expression on his face; that mix of concern and exasperation he gets when he thinks you’re not taking care of yourself properly. “Six degrees? Six? Are you trying to become a popsicle or something?”

“I have a heat pack and I’m comfy. Didn’t wanna get up,” you mumble from your cocoon, though the excuse sounds weak even to your own ears. The truth sits heavy between the words you don’t say; that you’d been watching the utility costs climb, doing the math in your head about what you could cut back on this month.

But Mingi knows better. He’s always known better.

You hear him drop his bag and outerwear near your bedroom door with a soft thud before his footsteps approach. Then he’s there, towering over your bundled form on the couch, his ashy silver-purple hair slightly mussed from the winter wind outside, cheeks still flushed from the cold. There’s something in his eyes—soft and a little sad—that tells you he understands exactly what you’re not saying.

“I’ll handle your utilities this month,” he says matter-of-factly, already reaching down to pull you up and closer. His long fingers work to unwrap your blanket burrito with practiced ease, and you want to protest but the words die in your throat when you see his expression. “And before you argue, I’m also ordering groceries this week.”

“Mingi, you don’t have to—” you start but his arms wrap around you, cutting off your protest.

“I want to.” He repositions you both on the couch, wrapping the blanket around your bodies together like a shared shelter, tucking it carefully around your shoulders. His warmth immediately starts to seep into your cold limbs, better than any heat pack. “You’re my girl. Let me take care of you, yeah? Now what episode are we on?”

The finality in his tone leaves no room for arguments but it’s the gentleness in how he holds you that really makes your resistance crumble. He settles back against the couch, adjusting you more comfortably against his chest and you feel the steady thump of his heartbeat through his hoodie.

He knew your scholarship didn’t cover much, the same way he knew rent wasn’t cheap in Seoul, especially not in a decent neighborhood close enough to campus. Even with your on-campus departmental assistant job, you deprived yourself of a lot of things simply to save money. You’d been so used to handling everything on your own, so accustomed to being self-sufficient since you’d moved here, that even after almost two years of dating, you still found it hard to let him do things for you. To let him in like this, past all those walls you’d built out of necessity and pride.

“I watched two without you, but I didn’t really pay attention,” you admit quietly, letting yourself relax against him, breathing in his familiar scent. “We can rewatch them.”

You don’t put up a fight because you knew how Mingi could get when it came to taking care of you, stubborn and immovable as a mountain. You knew that he knew exactly why you were sitting in the cold of your apartment rather than turning the heating on, counting every won and making sacrifices you thought he wouldn’t notice.

But he always noticed.

“Good,” he says, pressing a kiss to your temple.

That conversation was an hour and those two rewatched episodes ago—episodes that neither of you pay attention to because you kept pausing to talk, to catch up on everything you’d missed in each other’s lives. He tells you about the comeback preparations, the choreography that was killing his back, the way Yunho and Seonghwa kept stealing his and San’s snacks. You tell him about the grades you received for the last semester, the remote job you were struggling with and wanted to quit, the way your neighbor’s cat had somehow ended up in your apartment last week.

But eventually the conversation had shifted, grew quieter, more intimate. The touches lingered longer. His hand on your thigh. Your fingers tracing patterns on his hand. The way he looked at you had changed too, darkened with want that had been building for weeks of separation.

Now the “Are you still watching?” screen on Netflix stares back at you both, forgotten and irrelevant.

You hadn’t seen your boyfriend since the end of December; nearly three weeks of your relationship sustained only through phone screens and late-night video calls that always ended too soon, interrupted by his impossible schedule or the need for sleep. You’d missed the solid warmth of him, the way he smelled like his cologne mixed with laundry detergent and something uniquely him. Missed the way his laugh sounded in person, richer and fuller than through phone speakers. Missed the weight of his gaze on you, the casual touches, the intimacy of just existing in the same space.

And as much as sitting cuddled up like this was great, as much as you wanted to savor this reunion, it was getting increasingly hard to keep things innocent.

Especially when his big hands started wandering from their safe position on your waist, rubbing slow circles on your stomach that gradually drifted lower. When his fingers started tracing the curve of your hip through your sweatpants, then growing bolder, gripping and kneading the soft flesh of your thighs with a possessiveness that made heat pool low in your belly, like he was reacquainting himself with the geography of your body.

“Mingi,” you breathed, half warning, half plea and you felt his lips curve into a smile against your neck.

“Mm?” The sound rumbled through his chest and into yours where you were pressed against him. “Just missed touching you, bonita. It’s been too long.”

“You’re distracting me from the show,” you murmur, though you make no move to stop him.

“What show?” His voice is already rougher, deeper than usual, vibrating against your back where you’re pressed against his chest. “It’s been asking if we’re still watching for like twenty minutes now. Just missed touching you, baby.”

And it had been. Too many weeks of aching for this, for the weight of his hands on you, for the heat of his breath against your skin. 

His face finds the curve of your neck, lips brushing against sensitive skin, and you can’t help the way you turn your body around to face him; a leg hooked over his hip as you tilt your head to give him better access. He takes immediate advantage, placing hot, open-mouthed kisses along the column of your throat, teeth grazing your pulse point in a way that makes you gasp and arch into him. His hand finds your ass and when he squeezes, fingers digging into the soft flesh with a possessiveness that makes you shiver, you couldn’t help the small sound that escaped your throat.

“Missed you so fucking much,” he murmurs against your skin between kisses, and you can feel how much he means it in the way his arms tighten around you, in the way his breathing has already gone uneven. “Three weeks is too long. Way too long.”

“I know,” you breathe, fingers threading through his soft hair, tugging gently in the way you know he likes. “I missed you too.” You continue like you both haven’t gone longer without seeing each other.

“Yeah?” His voice dropped lower, rough around the edges in that way that always made heat pool low in your belly. “You missed this too?”

You nodded, not trusting your voice, and shifted against him; feeling exactly how much he’d missed you, hard and insistent against your hip.

“Fuck,” he groaned, low and drawn out, his other hand coming up to thread through your freshly pressed hair, tilting your head back so he could access more of your throat. “You have no idea how much I’ve been thinking about this. About you.”

His lips found that sensitive spot just below your ear and you gasped, fingers clutching at his shoulders. “Baby, please—”

“Please what, mama? Tell me what you need.” His teeth grazed your pulse point and you could feel your heart hammering there, could feel how he paused to feel it racing under his tongue. “Use your words.”

“Need you,” you managed, breathless already and he’d barely touched you. “Need you so bad.”

The groan that pulled from his chest was pure satisfaction. “That’s my girl. Always so good for me when you remember to ask.”

One of his hands slides up under your sweater and shirt—his sweater and tshirt, actually, ones you’d stolen months ago—his palm hot against the small of your back, exploring skin he’s been denied access to for weeks. The other hand is still gripping your ass, pulling you harder against him and you can feel him hardening even more beneath you.

“Can I—” he starts, but you’re already shifting so you can straddle him properly as he sits up.

“Yeah,” you say, and then your mouths finally meet.

The kiss is immediately desperate, weeks of longing poured into it. His lips are soft but insistent, moving against yours like he’s trying to make up for lost time. Your hands cup his face, feeling the warmth of his flushed cheeks, while his grip your hips hard enough to bruise in the best way.

When his tongue traces your bottom lip, you open for him immediately, and the kiss deepens into something filthy and consuming. He tastes like coffee he must have had on the way over and underneath that, just him. One of your hands tangles in his hair, pulling harder now, and he groans into your mouth; a sound that goes straight through you, making you grind down against him.

“Fuck,” he gasps, breaking the kiss to look at you with hooded eyes, pupils blown wide. His hands slide under your shirt properly now, pushing it up, and you help him pull it over your head. The cold air hits your skin but you barely notice because he’s looking at you like you’re everything he’s ever wanted.

“No bra?” His thumbs brush over your nipples that were already peaked and sensitive. “You’re so fucking beautiful. Missed these. Missed all of you. Missed seeing you like this.”

“You know I don’t like wearing any at home,” you admitted, gasping when he pinched lightly, rolling the hardened peak between his fingers. “plus, it’s winter. Who’s gonna know with all the layers?”

“I know,” he grins as his mouth finds your collarbone, kissing and sucking marks into your skin that you’ll definitely have to cover up later, but right now you don’t care. Your head falls back as his lips trail lower, hands now cupping your breasts as he continues to pinch your nipples in a way that makes you whimper.

“Mingi, please—”

“I got you, baby,” he murmurs against your skin. “Gonna take care of you.”

He moves one hand to your hip to pull you flush against him and then his mouth is on you, hot and wet, tongue circling one nipple while his fingers work the other. You’re grinding against him properly now, seeking friction, and he’s meeting your movements, hips rolling up to meet yours.

The layers between you are too much, too frustrating. You need more, need him closer, need—

“Off,” you manage, tugging at his hoodie, and he pulls back just long enough to yank it over his head along with the shirt underneath. Then his hands are on you again, pulling you back flush against his bare chest, skin to skin finally, and the contact feels so good you could cry.

You kiss him again, slower this time but no less intense, pouring everything you feel into it. Love and want and need and come home and I missed you and please don’t leave again. His hands map your body like he’s relearning every curve, every sensitive spot that makes you gasp or shiver.

“Mingi—” His name came out broken, desperate.

“God, I love the way you say my name like that. Like you need me. Do you need me, baby?”

“Need you,” you whisper against his lips, and you feel him shudder.

“Yeah, okay, fuck—” His hands move to the waistband of your sweatpants, fingers dipping inside, and you lift up enough for him to slide them down along with your underwear.

The blanket has long since fallen away, forgotten on the floor, but you don’t need it anymore. Not with the heat building between you, not with the way he’s touching you like he’s been starving for it.

His fingers find you already wet, and he groans at the discovery. “You’re soaked. All this for me?”

“Three weeks,” you remind him breathlessly, rocking into his touch. “Three weeks of just my hand and thinking about you.”

“Fuck, bonita,” he breathes, circling your clit in slow, deliberate strokes that have you trembling. “Tell me what you thought about.”

“This,” you manage. “Your hands, your mouth, how you—ah—how you feel inside me.”

He rewards you by sliding two fingers inside, and the stretch makes you moan loud enough that you briefly worry about your neighbors before you stopped caring entirely. He curled his fingers, finding that spot inside you that made your vision go hazy, and set a rhythm that had you clutching at his shoulders.

“That’s it, baby. Let me hear you.” His thumb found your clit and you nearly sobbed. “Let me hear how good I make you feel. Missed these sounds so much. Used to replay the videos you sent me every night, you know that? Every night on tour, every night away from you, wishing it were my fingers inside you instead of yours.”

The image of him touching himself to videos of you made everything feel hotter, tighter. “Min, I’m—”

He works you open carefully, thoroughly, fingers curling to continuously hit that spot that makes your thighs shake, thumb still working your clit. You bury your face in his neck, breathing hard, hands gripping his broad shoulders for support as he builds you higher and higher.

“That’s it, baby,” he murmurs encouragingly. “Let me hear you. Missed those pretty sounds you make. It’s been too long since I’ve heard them in person.”

You’re close, embarrassingly close already but before you can tip over that edge, you pull back. “No, wait…want to come with you. Need you inside me.”

His eyes darken impossibly further and he withdraws his fingers, bringing them to his mouth and sucking them clean while maintaining eye contact. The sight of it, the hungry look in his eyes, nearly undoes you on the spot.

“Missed your taste too,” he says, voice absolutely wrecked. “Missed everything about you.”

You make quick work of his sweatpants, shoving them down just enough to free him, and then he’s there, hard and heavy in your hand. He’s already leaking and when you stroke him once, twice, his head falls back against the wall with a thud, and the sight made your mouth water.

“Next time,” you promise, twisting your hand around him and earning a sharp hiss of pleasure. “Next time I want you in my mouth.”

“Fuck, don’t…don’t say shit like that right now or this is gonna be over way too fast.” He catches your wrist gently, stilling your movement. “It’s been too long, baby. I need to be inside you. Need it so bad.”

“Now,” you say, positioning yourself over him. “Please, baby, now.”

His hands grip your hips, guiding you as you sink down onto him slowly, both of you groaning at the sensation. It’s been too long, and the stretch of him filling you is almost overwhelming.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” Mingi’s head lifts off the wall slightly to look at you, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise. “So tight. So perfect. Fuck, you feel like heaven. Missed this,” he gasps, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips and ass. “Missed you. Missed being inside you.”

You took him fully, settling in his lap, and paused to adjust to the stretch, to the fullness of having him inside you again after so long. His hands roamed your back, your sides, pulling you close so your foreheads pressed together.

“Okay?” he murmured, and despite the strain in his voice, despite how you could feel him twitching inside you with the need to move, he waited for your signal.

“Yeah,” you breathed. “Perfect. You’re perfect.”

“Then move for me, baby. Show me how much you missed this cock. Wanna watch you ride me.”

You start to move, rolling your hips in slow, deep grinds that have both of you breathing hard. His hands guide you up and down, finding a rhythm together, relearning each other’s bodies. Every slide of him inside you feels incredible, hitting deep, the angle perfect from this position; it makes stars burst behind your eyelids, and when you cry out, he does it again, harder.

“There it is,” he praises, voice rough and breathless. “Right there, yeah? That’s the spot?”

“Yes, fuck, yes, right there—” 

“That’s my good girl. Taking me so well. Look at you.” One of his hands comes up to cup your face, thumb brushing over your kiss-swollen lips. “Look at how beautiful you are when you’re riding my cock. Wish you could see yourself. Wish you could see what I see.”

He leans forward to capture your mouth in another searing kiss, swallowing your moans as you ride him faster, chasing the pleasure building in your core. One of his hands slides between your bodies to find your clit again, rubbing tight circles that make you clench around him.

“Fuck, yes, just like that,” he breathes against your lips. “You feel so good, so perfect. Taking me so well.” His words make you clench around him and he groans, low and long. “Fuck, do that again. Love feeling you squeeze me like that.”

You did, deliberately this time, and his hips bucked up involuntarily, driving him deeper. The rhythm was getting faster now, more desperate, the slap of skin on skin mixing with your combined moans and the creak of the couch beneath you.

“More,” you whimpered and felt him smile against your skin.

“Greedy girl. I love it. Love you.” He nipped at your bottom lip, soothing the sting with his tongue. “Love how you get like this for me. So needy. So perfect.”

The praise sends heat coursing through you, spurring you on. You grip his hair tighter, pulling his head back so you can kiss down his throat, biting and sucking marks into his neck the way he did to you, not caring about his upcoming schedule,if he had any.His hips start thrusting up to meet you, driving deeper, and the change in intensity makes you cry out.

“That’s my girl,” he groans. “Let me hear you. Don’t hold back.”

“Min, baby, I’m close—”

“I know, baby, I can feel it. Can feel you getting tighter. But not yet, okay? Just a little longer. Want to make this last.” His thumb found your clit, rubbing tight circles that made your thighs shake. “Want to feel you for as long as possible.”

“Mingi…baby,”

“You can take it. You’re doing so good for me, mama. So fucking good.” His other hand tangles in your hair, pulling your mouth to his for another messy, desperate kiss. “Just a little more. Can you do that for me?”

You nodded but even as good as it feels, the angle isn’t quite enough. You need more, need him deeper, need—

He seems to read your mind, because suddenly he’s shifting, movements purposeful and hungry with need.

“Hold on,” he murmurs, and then in one smooth motion he’s lifting you, pulling out only long enough to flip you both. Your back hits the couch cushions and he’s above you, those broad shoulders blocking out the world, making everything narrow down to just this, just him. “Want to see your face. Need to see you when you come.”

He hooks your legs over his shoulders, folding you in half, and when he pushes back inside you from this angle, you both moan at how impossibly deep he goes. The angle makes you cry out; he was so deep like this, hitting spots that made you see stars. “Need to fuck you properly. Need to hear you scream my name.”

Then he was moving, and God, he wasn’t holding back anymore. Each thrust was hard and deep and purposeful, driving into you with a force that had the couch protesting beneath you, had you clutching at his back, nails digging into his skin.

“God, fuck, Mingi—” 

“Fuck, yes, just like that—” He’s panting, each word punctuated by a thrust. “So good, baby. Taking me so fucking well. Love watching your face when I’m this deep. Love hearing those sounds you make—”

The sounds you were making were obscene, high-pitched whimpers and moans that you couldn’t control, couldn’t hold back even if you tried. And from the way Mingi was groaning in response, he didn’t want you to.

This is what you needed. This intensity, this closeness, him taking control and giving you exactly what you’ve been craving for three agonizing weeks. Each thrust hits that spot inside you that makes your vision white out, and you’re already so close, wound so tight you might break apart.

“Louder, bonita. Let the whole building know who’s making you feel this good. Let them hear who you belong to.”

“Mingi, fuckkk, Mingi—” His name was a chant, a prayer, the only word you could remember.

“Look at me,” he commands, and when your eyes meet his, the intimacy of it, the love and want you see reflected there, steals your breath. “That’s it, baby…that’s my girl. Want to see those pretty eyes when I make you come.”

He’s driving into you with a force that has the couch protesting beneath you, the frame creaking, and you swear you can feel it shifting across the floor. But you can’t focus on that, not when he’s hitting so deep, not when his fingers find your clit again and start rubbing in time with his thrusts.

“Fuck, you sound so pretty when you say my name like that. Say it again.”

“Mingi, please baby, I need…I need to—”

“I know, I can feel you,” he groans and he does look wrecked, hair plastered to his forehead with sweat, lips swollen from kissing, eyes dark and desperate. His angle shifted slightly and you nearly screamed. “Right there? That what you need?”

“Yes! Oh god, yes, please don’t stop—”

“Not stopping. Never stopping. Gonna fuck you until you can’t remember your own name, until the only thing you can remember is mine.”

The couch was definitely moving now, you could feel it sliding with each powerful thrust, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Not when he was filling you so perfectly, not when every nerve ending was on fire, not when his fingers found your clit again and—

“Come for me, mama.” he commanded, voice strained with his own need. “Come on my cock, baby. Let me feel it. Let me feel you fall apart for me.”

It only takes a few more thrusts, a few more circles of his fingers, and then you’re shattering, back arching off the couch as pleasure crashes through you in waves. You cry out his name, clenching around him, and he fucks you through it, prolonging your orgasm until you’re shaking and oversensitive.

“Fuck yes, that’s it; fuck, you feel so good, so fucking good—” His rhythm falters, becoming erratic. “Gonna come, baby. Gonna…where?”

“Inside,” you managed, still riding the aftershocks. “Want to feel you. Want you to come inside me. Want all of you.”

That permission is all he needs. He buries himself deep with a groan that sounded like it was torn from his chest, and you feel him come, spilling hot inside you, face buried in your neck as his whole body shudders.

For a long moment, you both just stay like that, breathing hard, hearts racing, tangled together in the aftermath. His weight on top of you feels grounding, perfect, and you run your fingers through his sweaty hair, pressing kisses to his temple.

“Fuck,” he finally managed, voice hoarse. “Fuck, I love you.”

“Love you too,” you whispered, holding him close. “Missed you,” you whisper again because it’s all you can think to say, the truest thing you know.

“Missed you more,” he murmurs back, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder. 

You stay like that for a moment longer, neither of you quite ready to move, to break the connection. When he finally did pull out, you both wince at the sensitivity, and he collapses beside you on the couch, immediately pulling you into his arms.

That’s when you become aware of something odd. The angle of the room looks different somehow. The TV seems farther away than it should be. You both turned your heads at the same time, taking in the couch’s new position; a solid three feet across the floor from where it started, leaving visible drag marks on your area rug.

There’s a beat of stunned silence as you both process this.

Then you both burst into laughter, the kind that shakes your whole body and makes your stomach hurt, the kind that’s contagious and impossible to stop. You bury your face in his chest, shoulders shaking, while his own laughter wheezes out in that high-pitched way that always makes you laugh even harder. The shift from intense intimacy to this moment of absurdity is so jarring that it makes it even funnier. 

“Oh my god, baby!” you gasped between giggles, smacking his chest weakly. “You literally moved my furniture! You fucked me so hard you rearranged my living room.”

He was laughing just as hard, that beautiful, uninhibited sound that you loved, his whole face scrunched up with it. “Hey, hey now,” he protested, though he could barely get the words out. “That’s not just on me! That’s a team effort right there. That’s what happens when we’re both…we’re both putting in the work. Y’know, teamwork makes the dream work, baby. We should get a medal or some shit.”

You dissolve into fresh giggles, smacking him again. “You’re the one who was going at it like you were trying to drill through my floor! Like you were on a mission.”

“And weren’t you pulling on my hair like you were trying to scalp me?” He catches your wrist, bringing your hand to his lips to kiss your knuckles, eyes dancing with mirth. “Besides, I’d say the results speak for themselves. When’s the last time regular sex came with a free furniture rearrangement service? I’m basically doing you a favor. Helping you redecorate. Very boyfriend of me.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you say but you’re grinning so wide your cheeks hurt and he’s looking at you with such open affection that it made your chest feel warm and full.The apartment doesn’t feel cold anymore, hasn’t felt cold since he walked through the door. Not with him here, not with this warmth between you that has nothing to do with the heating he’d turned on earlier. 

“A little bit, but you love me anyway,” he says, pulling you closer and pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Even when I get too enthusiastic and redecorate your apartment mid-sex.”

“Especially then,” you admitted, snuggling into his chest. You trace idle patterns on his chest, feeling his heartbeat gradually slow under your palm. “Though I’m not sure ‘sex so good it moves furniture’ was on my list of relationship goals.”

“Well, it should’ve been.” He grins.

“We should probably move it back,” you say eventually, though neither of you make any move to get up. “And move to the bedroom before you’re ready for another round.”

“In a minute,” Mingi mumbles, his arms tightening around you as he settles his weight more comfortably against you, pulling the forgotten blanket from the floor to drape over your cooling bodies. “Not done holding you yet. Three weeks of missed cuddles to make up for. That’s a serious deficit, and besides, I kind of like it here. New perspective on your living room. Very feng shui.”

“That’s not what feng shui means.”

“Sounds like something someone with bad feng shui would say,” he teases, and you could hear the grin in his voice.

You roll your eyes but you’re smiling, fingers tracing idle patterns on his chest. “Next time maybe we should just use the bed like normal people.”

His laugh rumbles through his chest and into yours where you’re pressed together. “Where’s the fun in that, mama? Where’s the adventure? Besides, I’m pretty sure your bed can’t slide across the floor.” He pauses, then adds with theatrical seriousness, “Though I guess we could test that theory. You know. For science. Just think of all the other furniture we haven’t christened yet. The possibilities are endless.”

“Oh my god, stop,” you groan, but you’re laughing again, and yeah, you definitely missed this. Missed him. Missed this exact feeling of being completely comfortable and completely happy and completely yourself with someone who loved every part of you. Missed the way he takes care of you even when you don’t ask, the way he makes you feel safe enough to let go.

“Never,” he promised, kissing the top of your head. “Never stopping. You’re stuck with me forever.”