#dawniscozy

xv: in the clouds

Her weekend started with the ringing of her phone. The sound low but loud in the relative quiet of early morning. It jerked her to full consciousness, yanking her right out of the pleasant doze she let herself stay in for who knows how long. Eyes heavy, hand blindly searching for the device that had somehow managed to tuck under her pillow. Teddy meowing in annoyance at his sleep being interrupted by her shifting one too many times to answer the call and bring the phone to her ear.

“Hello?” she asked, voice groggy. Cracking so badly she had to clear her throat and swallow, sitting up to reach for the water bottle she usually kept on her bedside table. The cool liquid soothed the dryness leftover from her sleep, choking out a whine when her throat refused to work properly at first. 

A warm chuckle flowed right into her ear. “Did I wake you, love?” Hongjoong’s voice came through, slightly muffled by the crackle of the line but nonetheless pleasant, voice rounding into an affectionate coo at the end. “M’sorry. I didn’t realize how early it was.”

“S’okay,” she reassured, words slurred and soft but no less sincere as she settled back down beneath her blanket. “Did you need something, Joongie?”

He hummed, the sound sending a pleasant shiver through her, even through the static and the rustling on his end. “Was wondering if you wanted to spend some time with me today.” 

“M’yeah,” she murmured, pulling the blanket closer around her shoulders and tucking her chin in. Like she wanted to hide the grin threatening to come across her face. But there was no way to keep the happiness, the excitement from her voice at the idea. “Would love to spend some time with you.”

He hummed again, the sound low and warm, heavier than the one before. Like he was hanging onto consciousness by sheer will alone. “This afternoon?” he asked. “I need to get a little sleep in, but I should be awake again by then. I don’t usually sleep for too long.”

Rora frowned. “Did you not sleep last night?” 

“Hmm-mm,” he murmured. “No. Was workin’ on somethin’ and got caught up.”

“Get some sleep, Joongie,” she said, mouth tugging down at the corners. 

“M’gonna. Don’t worry, love,” he breathed. “Talk a little more?”

“Sure, sleepy.” She giggled, folding an arm under her head and scrunching her pillow up. “What did you have in mind for later?”

“Wanna dress you up,” he said, breath puffing out in a sleepy sigh, words lilting upward like he was excited at the mere prospect. His smile flashed through her mind–close-mouthed and shy but growing bigger like he just couldn’t help it, until his cheeks rounded and his pretty eyes turned to crescents and his head tilted with the force of it. His voice was softer when he spoke again, “Maybe get some food, too. Whatever else you might wanna do. I didn’t think that far ahead.”

“That sounds fun.” A surprised huff escaped her when Teddy stirred, stretching a paw out to hook his little claws into her socked foot. “Teddy, baby, am I bothering you?”

“Teddy?” There was something in his tone that sent a thrill through her, settling warm in her chest alongside her fluttering heart. 

She laughed the feeling away, reaching down pat placatingly between fluffy ears. “My silly little kitty,” she answered, eyes fluttering closed as she got lost in the soft fur beneath her fingers and the purr vibrating against her hip. 

“Tha’s good,” he murmured, words slurred though not lacking in conviction. “I don’t have to be jealous.”

Another laugh came from her. “You share me with seven other men. Are you saying it would take just one more to make you jealous?”

“S’different,” he said, sniffling lightly. Inhaling sharply like he was struggling to stay awake. Humming right into the microphone, the sound enough to have her tummy rolling and goosebumps threatening to line her skin. “This might be better to talk about when I’m not half delirious."

She took a moment to breathe before replying. Inhale. An amused exhale. “We have a lot of things to talk about, apparently.”

“Making a list, are you?” Amusement colored his sleepy voice, warming his voice and her chest. 

“Mmm. Something like that.” She turned to lie on her stomach–slow, careful not to jostle Teddy more than necessary–until her face was half squished in her pillow to muffle her next words. “Your voice sounds nice over the phone.”

“Yeah?” There was no mistaking the satisfaction in his question, no matter how tired he sounded. 

“Yeah,” she admitted, breathless, face burning. 

His answering chuckle was heavy with sleep, right from his throat. “Add it to your list,” he drawled. “We’ll talk about it later.”

“Is that an order?” she asked, nibbling at her bottom lip to tamp down on the giddy smile threatening to overtake her face.  

He exhaled sharply, fabric shuffling on his end again. “Making my own list,” he muttered. 

Her stomach gave a little flip at that, heat unfurling dangerously low. “Is that a good or a bad thing?”

“We’ll see after we’ve had those conversations.” A threat wrapped in a promise that made her next inhale catch in her throat. 

Teddy meowed again, seemingly done with being pet back to sleep, and padded his way up her torso to press right into her face. Fur in her mouth, up her nose, until all she could do was sputter and laugh and push the cat away, breaking whatever tension had started building. “Teddy is telling me it’s time to get up,” she said, affectionately exasperated. “And it’s time for you to rest. Message me when you’re on the way, alright?”

“M’kay.” His voice sounded suspiciously like a whine.

“We’ll talk later, okay? Sleep well, Joongie."

“Mhm. G’night, love.” His voice was barely there, like he was already drifting off. 

She left the call connected until soft snores filled the line and Teddy started to meow and push into her face again. She shushed the cat gently, stroking a placating hand down his back and ending the call before he could get louder and possibly wake the sleeping man. 

The morning passed slowly, her body buzzing with so much anticipation she couldn’t find it in herself to just sit down and find something to occupy herself with. She made a ridiculously complicated coffee for what she had in her fridge–yet another glorified caffeinated chocolate milk. Took a longer shower than usual, taking her time until her skin was soft and she smelled like the new shave oil and sugar scrub she got the last time she went to the store. 

She cooked up a late breakfast when she started feeling hungry–a grilled turkey and swiss with a bowl of leftover tomato soup. Downing water when the food did nothing to tamp down the swell of excitement and adrenaline flooding her system, leaving her heart fluttering and her hands shaking. When the water did little to nothing, she focused on finding something to wear. Something cozy but cute enough. Settling on a pair of oversized sweats with a fun print on the ankles, a grey tank top, and a tan knit zip-up that looked suspiciously like one she had seen Wooyoung wearing not long ago. A whiff of something–musky, woody, floral–let her know it was, indeed, his. 

But that only took so much time, leaving her once more with nothing to occupy herself while she waited. So, she started cleaning up. Organizing things she wouldn’t typically organize. Turning on the television to play YouTube videos to drown out the silence of the apartment and the noise in her brain. Playing with Teddy when he finished eating until he left her hanging to curl back up at the foot of her bed. 

Eventually, though–just as she had finally started calming down–her phone lit up with a notification. A message. Nothing more than a picture of Hongjoong, taken from above, of him sitting at a desk. Wearing a matching sweatpants and sweatshirt set, cream with black designs inked into the fabric, only the black half of his hair visible. Looking cozy enough she wanted to curl up into his side. She imagined it, sitting with him as he worked on the production software that was pulled up on the screen–maybe just dozing off, enjoying his warmth; maybe working alongside him. Maybe even sneaking under his desk–

A message followed just as she had finally processed the picture, shaking her from her little daydreams.

Just have to do something real quick. Be there in about 20.

She focused on finding the perfect gif to reply with. Something cute but reflecting the excitement that was starting to swell up in her chest again. Heart thumping harder against her ribs, fingers twitching, teeth finding her bottom lip. She forced herself to take a breath. Inhale through the nose. Exhale through the mouth. A second one. Then, she picked one–an animation of a white cartoon cat dancing happily. Not a full reflection of the nervousness pooling in her gut, but a direct representation of the shy happiness and excitement that was quickly overtaking every other emotion as she forced herself to focus back on whatever she had been watching before Hongjoong’s texts. 

Exactly twenty minutes later, her phone was dinging with another notification, a call coming through immediately after. She answered with a breathless, “Hey.” 

“Hey,” Hongjoong greeted back. “Do you want me to come to your door or do you want to meet me at the car?”

“I can come down,” she said, a little too quickly. “Do I need to bring anything?”

“Just your pretty self,” he said, words light. Easy. Like they didn’t make her heart stutter and her fingers nearly fumble her phone. 

“Okay,” she breathed. “I’ll be down in a moment.” Before he could reply, she was dropping the call. 

Her eyes looked around the space as she reached for her bag–something small that held her phone, her cards, emergency cash, and her favorite lip balm. The strap was barely hooked over her shoulder before she was slipping into her shoes and rushing out the door. The trip down the hall and down the stairs was a blur, and she had to force herself to stop for a moment once she stepped outside. Letting the sun warm her clothes and the breeze sift through her hair. Taking a breath as she looked around the lot. 

Hongjoong was parked a few spots down from the building entrance, leaning against his car with arms crossed over his chest and his head tilted. Gaze already locked on her when she finally spotted him. One hand lifted in a tentative wave that she giddily reciprocated before rushing over to him. His name fell from her lips in way of a greeting, heart leaping at the smile that softened his face and the way the sunlight reflected in his eyes. 

“Hey,” he greeted, smile widening, pretty teeth flashing and a little dimple teasing at the side of his mouth. 

“Hi,” she said, leaning up to press a kiss to the little indent before she could think too hard about it. 

His cheeks were as pink as her own probably were when she pulled away. He didn’t say anything, instead guiding her around the vehicle to open the passenger side door for her, a hand pressed to her lower back as she climbed in, the warmth of his touch calming and grounding. 

She settled into the comfort of the passenger seat as Hongjoong rounded the front of the car. Watching the way he walked, the saunter to his steps, the way he pushed his hair back from his face and glanced at her through the window. The way his eyes sparkled in the sunlight and his smile softened his face. 

Her bottom lip was between her teeth and her heart all but performing acrobatics by the time he finally slid in behind the wheel. 

The view from the passenger seat was definitely better than the view from the backseat. The focus on his face as he backed out of the lot, the movement of his lips as he mouthed along to the songs playing softly through the speakers, the grip of his fingers on the wheel, the subtle glimpses toward her as he drove. She couldn’t get herself to look away, gaze stuck on him. Not even embarrassed when he caught her the first, second, and even third time. 

“D’you need to take a picture, love?” he asked, voice low with amusement. 

Her phone was in her hand before she could verbalize an answer, and he crumpled forward with the force of his laugh. She caught the moment, caught the moment after when he glanced over at her, then when he straightened up and rearranged his face into an exaggerated impression of his usual focused face. Caught as he relaxed into the moment, and his face softened into actual focus–one arm propped in the window, the backs of his knuckles brushing his lips, eyes intent on taking in everything happening in front of him. 

She kept at it until his focus broke again, looking over at her with a breathless giggle that scrunched his eyes adorably, hand flattening over his mouth to hide it. But the sound still reached her ears, still sent her heart fluttering. She was glad to notice the tips of his ears were pink. Her heart nearly stopped beating when she noticed the way his teeth dug into his knuckle, as if to muffle any following laughter. Breath hitching when his eyes found her again, an eyebrow raising and the corner of his lips curling up. Amused. Knowing. 

Parking was a quick, easy affair. The lot mostly empty, Hongjoong’s every move practiced as he backed into the space of his choice. Before she could blink, the car was off, engine ticking as it cooled, silence heavy with the absence of music. 

“Ready?” he asked, eyes curved and smile brighter than the sun glaring through the windshield. 

In favor of speaking, she unbuckled her seatbelt and pushed open her door. Her excitement must have been obvious, sending Hongjoong into a round of soft chuckles as she rounded the vehicle to his side, meeting him as he slid out. His eyes sparkled in the daylight as he looked down at her, the gold of his skin a direct contrast against the cream of his sweater, the sun haloing his hair. She had to blink when he ducked down, nose nudging at her cheekbone. The touch fleeting but enough for the warmth of his breath to sear into her skin, dizzy when he pulled away and laced his fingers with her own to pull her inside.

The apartment was silent when they entered, the only sound the rustle of their clothing as they toed off their shoes at the door. “Everyone is out,” Hongjoong said, voice low–soft, like he didn’t want to break the peace that blanketed the place. “Hwa might be back in a few hours if he doesn’t decide to stay with his friends longer, but Sangie and Mingi are working.”

“Do they know I’m over?”

“I told the group chat despite wanting to keep you all to myself,” he said. Then, his mouth twisted into something sly. Something sharp and satisfied that intensified his eyes. “They’re all quite jealous, actually.”

She snickered. “Are they?” 

He hummed. “They blew up my phone, whining about how unfair it was until I muted the chat to sleep.”

“Not sharing me today, hmm?” Her voice was lilting–teasing, amused. 

He shook his head. “No matter how much they beg,” he said, sharp grin still in place, brows rising. “You’re mine today.”

That possessiveness made her mouth dry, tummy warm, fingers twitching in his hold. 

He caught it all, tilted his head. “Is this reaction fear? Or something else?” he asked, expression softening as his eyes moved over her face. 

“I’m not scared,” she said easily, smiling at him placidly, pointedly ignoring the fluttering in her chest at his attention. “Not really. And not of you.”

Relief seemed to replace any satisfaction her statement gave him. Brows going lax and lips tipping up into another devastatingly handsome smile. His fingers tightened around hers briefly before he started pulling her further into the apartment. “I’ve got something for you,” he said, free hand coming to rub at the back of his neck, ears pink again. 

“Something for me?” she asked, disbelief flaring in her chest. 

He hummed as they reached his room, pushing the door open and pulling her in behind him. The space was chaotic. Posters and pages from books and magazines were plastered all over the walls: music and fashion and television shows. A rug–well-worn, perhaps even thrifted, but still soft underfoot–was in the very center of the room. Warm, muted in the loud space.

Every corner housed a piece of furniture that was stacked with various items. A desk that held the music equipment from the picture he sent earlier. Another with crafting materials and a small sewing machine, shelves loaded with scraps and bundles of fabric beside it. A bed covered in a tangle of blankets and wrinkled clothes she assumed were the ones he had slept in. A vanity with a mirror was next to the opened closet, the tabletop lined with skincare and cosmetics. A record stand filled to the brim with vinyls, cds stacked on the floor beside it, beneath a wall-mounted cd-player. 

Fairy lights lined the ceiling, not on since it was daytime and the heavy curtains were pulled open. But she imagined the way they would light up the space. Warm. Cozy, even. So very Hongjoong. 

“Sorry, it’s a mess,” he murmured, looking through the pile of materials on his bed. “Hwa hates it in here, but I don’t think it’s too bad.”

“It feels…you,” she said.

He made a little noise in the back of his throat and straightened up, turning to her with something held tight to his chest. “Thought of you as soon as I saw this. Knew exactly what changes I wanted to make to it. How good you would look in it,” he said, stepping closer with quick, excited steps. 

He stopped a few feet away before letting the fabric unfurl. 

It was a hoodie. Streetwear heavy in design, made even more so with the changes he’d made to it. A raw hem to the collar, a v at the front that would showcase more than a flash of collarbone. Some distressing, bleach splatters, roughly sewn patches littered across the material. The drawstring of the hood changed to something else, something satin-y and dark red. A peak of red and black plaid pleats attached to the bottom on one side. 

“Oh,” she said, blinking at the sweater then blinking up at him. “I love it, Joongie.”

“Yeah?” he asked, head tilting, smirk curling his lips. “Wanna put it on for me?”

Her fingers were tugging off her own sweater before her head was even nodding. “Please,” she said, voice breathless in her excitement. 

His laugh warmed the room as he stepped closer. Hands steady, gentle as he first helped her get her (Wooyoung’s) sweater off, then helped her wear the new one. 

“You ever wear skirts, love?” he asked, pulling the oversized fabric lower, over her hips until it covered the tops of her thighs, nearly kneeling on the floor to do so. “That dress you wore looked so pretty on you, I’ve been wanting to get you in a skirt ever since.”

“Not really,” she said. “Not for a lack of wanting to. I’ve just never really been able to figure out how to style them on myself.”

“Can I put one on you?” His eyes were sparkling up at her, sincere, gentle even in his excitement. 

“M’yeah,” she nodded. Not even needing a moment to think about it. She would probably say yes to anything he said at that moment. Heart fluttering in her chest and mind threatening to go fuzzy at the edges.  

His answering grin was blinding, pretty teeth on full display. He disappeared into his closet with nothing more than a soft kiss to her lips and a skip to his step. “How do you feel about fishnets?” he asked, voice muffled by the sheer amount of clothing in the space. 

“Fucking love them,” she answered, hands fisting in the fabric covering them. “I never have the chance to wear them, though.”

He came back with both hands holding something, and he helped her into each of them. The fishnets offered a fight that she couldn’t find herself even the slightest bit frustrated about. Not when it meant his touches lingered more, when it kept him on her knees in front of her longer, when it had his gaze lingering on her thighs and hips in a way that made her skin tingle. Then he was slipping the skirt up her legs–short and ruffled, black, all lace and faux leather with a bunch of pretty little details she was almost sad would be covered up by the hoodie. The fabric was cool and soft through the openings of the tights, his fingers a striking contrast of warmth. 

Still on his knees, still gazing up at her, he adjusted the clothes to sit how he wanted them to. Safety pins holding the side of the skirt where the zipper wouldn’t zip up properly–a sharp thrill of trust as he wove them through the fabric at her hip, careful to not prick her with them, the press of the metal cold against her skin sent shivers down her spine. 

“Sit for me, lovely,” he murmured, guiding her over to a chair next to the vanity. She did as he said, startled when he crawled right into her lap, feet planted firmly on the floor and strong thighs bracketing her hips. “Pinch my leg if I get too heavy and you need me to move, okay?” 

Rora could only nod, swallowing in hopes of bringing moisture back to her suddenly dry mouth. He was so close like this. All but looming over her as he leaned down to see her face better. The warmth of his body was all-encompassing, the spice of his cologne filling her nose, the solid weight of him pressed against her. 

She couldn’t help it when her hands fell to his thighs, holding him lightly, eyes fluttering closed as he pressed thin layers of skincare and cosmetics into her skin with gentle touches and soft brushes. Breath hitching when his fingers found her mouth, swiping a mouse-y lipstick then a slick gloss. 

He was pulling back from her just enough to look her over, eyes surveying his work with a sort of detachment that really shouldn’t have made her stomach roll pleasantly or bring a flush to her cheeks. His head tilted, teeth finding his bottom lip hard enough that the center whited out. Then his eyes were back on hers, wide and excited and shining. “You look so good, love,” he said, hands coming to her shoulders, shifting to frame the sides of her neck. “Absolutely ravishing.”

Her heart fluttered, pounded in her chest. Unable to do anything but giggle, words failing her entirely. 

Hongjoong leaned closer, nose brushing against her own before he pressed a kiss there. Barely any pressure, but enough that her heart gave a silly little jump and her cheeks warmed. “D’you wanna pick something for me to wear?” he asked. 

Her heart leapt with excitement. “Can I? Really?”

“Yeah,” he murmured, giggling into her ear. “Really.”

Her fingers flexed where they still rested on his thighs, further betraying her excitement at the idea. He giggled more as he stood from her lap and helped her stand.  

Just over his shoulder, she caught movement. The mirror on the back of his door reflected their image back to her, and she finally got a glimpse of herself. The makeup–soft brown and peachy and subtle, but just enough that she could see the difference, the way it enhanced her features. Just enough sparkle in places to make her feel a little whimsical–the corners of her eyes, the tops of her cheekbones, over her cupid’s bow where he had blurred the lipstick. 

“Oh,” she breathed, stepping around him to catch a better glimpse of the outfit, the way it sat on her, the way it made her feel. She watched as his arms came around her middle, chin hooking over her shoulder to show the smug expression on his face. 

“You look so pretty for me. Don’t you, love?” he murmured, nose dragging lightly along the line of her neck. 

She nodded, swallowed. “I don’t know how I’m gonna be able to make your outfit even remotely as good,” she joked around the tightness threatening to settle in her throat. 

His teeth flashed in the mirror, smile hiding in her shoulder before he pulled back from her. His hands settled on her hips to shuffle her closer to the closet. “You’re gonna do just fine. I have plenty of good pieces to pick from.”

A deep breath and she was reaching into the absolute chaos that was Hongjoong’s closet. There was some attempt at organization, but the sheer amount of stuff seemed to make that all but impossible. The space was absolutely bursting at the seams with clothes, shoes lining the floor, accessories hung on a cluttered organizer beside the mirror on the door. 

She didn’t give the space the chance to overwhelm her and reached for the first pieces of clothing that caught her attention. A leather jacket. A graphic shirt with a fun red and white script on the front and sleeves. Black jeans ripped at the knees and up one thigh. Another pair of fishnets were on the floor, and she crouched down to grab them. Turning to look at him over her shoulder, finding him sitting down and taking a brush to his eye, smoking out some liner on his lower lash line. She arched a questioning brow at him, swinging the tights on a hooked finger. “Thoughts?” she asked. 

“You want me to wear them?” he asked, gaze flicking up from the mirror to lock on her face. The liner made his eyes look fierce even as they sparkled in the warm lights of his room.  

“I think they’d be cute under the jeans. Think they’d look good on you,” she said, eyes trailing down him to land on his legs again, the way his thighs looked even in his baggy sweatpants, straining the fabric as he spread them further under her gaze. Imagining the way the fishnets would look through the holes in the pants, tight against his thighs, strong and smooth. She swallowed, tongue poking out to wet the corners of her mouth as she blinked the image away. “Oh, yeah. Definitely.”

His laugh was low, right from his chest. A little breathless, a little teasing, absolutely smug. “I’ll wear them if you want me to, love,” he said. 

“Please.” The word came out breathless, almost a whine. 

He smirked, leaning forward, elbows on his knees to look up at her. “How can I say no when you ask so pretty?” A giggle came from him when she visibly shuddered at his words. “Come show me what you’ve picked out for me?”

She froze where she was, clutching the clothing to her chest as if that could stop the way her heart started thundering in her chest. 

“Come on, sweet girl. Come show me, hmm?” he coaxed gently, leaning back in the chair. His hand tapping his thigh, the other stretching out to her–an invitation. His warm palm met her thigh as she stepped closer, slid up to rest on her hip under the layers of skirt and hoodie. Guiding her to settle on his lap until those strong thighs supported her and his fingers pressed into her skin through the openings of the fishnets, blunt nails scratching just enough that goosebumps rose in their wake. “There you are. Good girl.”

Her brain threatened to go fuzzy at the edges, breath hitching on a sigh. “Hongjoong,” she murmured, hands fisting in the softness of his hoodie. 

Soft lips found hers, a tease of tongue over her bottom lip, the sharp nip of teeth. Before she could catch up, he was pulling away. He chuckled when she tried to follow him, brushing his nose against hers lightly. 

“You seem to be in a…mood.” she murmured.

“D’you wanna float for me later, baby?” he asked in favor of an answer, breath fanning over her face. “Can I try to get you there again? Hmm?”

Her tummy gave a slow roll, heart fluttering, a needy little sound stuck in her throat. “Yeah,” she whined, grip shifting to his shoulders as she leaned into him. 

The smile he gave in response was absolutely wicked, tongue gliding across his teeth in satisfaction. “We’ll finish up here, get some food, have that talk about those lists, and then we’ll see if we can turn that brain off, hmm?” 

Her mouth was dry, and she had to swallow to find some moisture again. “I don’t think it’ll be hard to do that,” she admitted breathlessly. 

“Are you fuzzy already, love? Just thinking about it?”

“A little,” she murmured, tongue poking out to wet her lips. “I’m comfortable and having fun and you’re…doing whatever it is you’re doing. And it’s–yeah.”

His teeth found his bottom lip, lids drooping down just the slightest. “Yeah?” he rasped, voice dipping an octave lower. “You like it, love? Like the way I talk to you?”

Her head was nodding before she could think about it (again), and his wicked grin was back in place. 

He simply hummed and gently pried the clothes from her grip. “Stand up for me?” he asked. “I wanna put it on. Can’t wait to wear what you picked for me, baby.”

Her legs were almost jelly when she stood, taking his seat when he stepped away. Her eyes were stuck on him as he undressed and dressed in parts–offering nothing more than a teasing flash of skin at a time. First the hoodie was slipped off, tattooed arms on display for only a moment. His torso was hidden by a tight undershirt that did nothing to hide the swell of his chest and the flat of his stomach before it was covered in the long-sleeve she had chosen for him–oversized enough that it nearly swallowed his figure, sleeves covering nearly half of his hands when they dropped down to work his pants off. 

Her eyes locked on his bare legs as he worked the fishnets over them, stumbling and giggling alongside her, ears and cheeks pink as he fell forward, hand bracing on her shoulder to stop himself from falling over entirely. Looming over again–chest and shoulders and bare neck right in front of her, looking more broad than ever, like he could encompass her entire being, that lovely spicy citrusy smell all around her. 

She worked hard to avoid looking up into his face, knowing the sight would be her undoing. But the other sight may as well have been too, gaze stuck on his legs as he took a step back to gather the jeans he had dropped when he stumbled. 

She was right that they would look good on him, the tights straining against the firm muscles of his thighs and calves, the diamond pattern pressing tight into the plush skin there. The image was interrupted when he bent again, the collar of the shirt dipping to show a tempting swell of his chest again, a flash of his white tank, and then he was tugging the jeans up his legs, hopping in place once, twice, until they sat the way he wanted them to. 

“Tucked or loose?” he asked, fingers tapping a light patter against the button of the jeans. 

“Maybe tucked, since there’s a jacket too. And you can add a belt?” 

He nodded, grinning encouragingly. “Good idea,” he said, fingers working to quickly tuck the shirt cleanly in the front of the pants and sliding the button home. A few belts hung with the accessories on his closet door, and he grabbed a black one to slide smoothly through his belt loops. 

“Any other accessories?” 

“You pick?”

He reached for a line of chain necklaces almost immediately, layering a few different sizes and designs together, another one that was pearls spaced with links and barbs. A chain hooked to his belt. A few rings on his fingers. He stepped over to her, something in his hand–a necklace, chain and pearl with a longer chain layered underneath. 

“Can I put this on you?”

She nodded. 

He tsked at her, brow raising when her eyes snapped right to his face, wide and scolded. “Give me your words, love,” he said. 

“Yes,” she said, breathless. 

He leaned into her space again, looming and close and warm and… Her thoughts were cut off as soon as the necklace was pressing against her throat, Hongjoong’s shirt almost brushing her face as he leaned even closer to see behind her. Him fumbling with the clasp was ticklish, sending a shiver down her spine. The necklace tightened, pressing into her skin in a way that had her breath hitching audibly enough that Hongjoong heard, his low chuckle rumbling in her ear. 

Then, he was leaning back, expression dripping with smug satisfaction. Eyes dark as they roamed over her again. “You do look lovely with something around your throat,” he said, head tilting as he ran warm fingers above where the necklace sat. 

Her next breath stuttered, the pink of her face making its way down her neck and chest. 

His expression turned soft and smug, gaze following the path of her flush. “Ready for food?” he finally asked, eyes twinkling as he stepped back. At her mindless nod, he grinned and continued, “Should we order in or go somewhere?”

“If we order in, we can have that talk.” The words tumbled out, rushed, tinged with just enough desperation that her face threatened to burst right into flames. 

“Eager?” He smirked, fingers trailing down her jaw light enough that her skin tingled. 

“Maybe,” she murmured, sheepish enough that he had to know it was a yes. 

He giggled but didn’t press any further. “We can order in,” he assured, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “But we’re not talking until after we eat.”

She couldn’t even find it in her to whine about it, not with his lips against her skin and that citrus-y, spice-y scent invading her nose and the warmth of him surrounding her. “M’kay,” she murmured. 

His resulting hum, low and throaty and soso pleased, felt as wonderful as any “good girl” ever had. 

author's note: this really took forever to finish, huh? I've been busy and distracted with another story idea, but I finally found the will and the time to sit down and finish this part. sorry if it's weird or rushed anywhere, though. I didn't edit before posting cause I just wanted to get it out and uploaded 😭

Jongho shifted next to her and the sound of a cap being opened filled the silence of the room. She turned to see him gliding a tinted balm across his lower lip. The sheen of it left her mesmerized, the smooth glide of it, the way he pressed his lips together after, and she had to blink back into focus when he capped the lip balm once again. 

"Hmm?" he asked, hand hovering, fingers clasping the cylinder loosely. 

She cleared her throat. "Mind if I have some?" she asked. 

"Oh. Yeah, sure," he said, holding it out to her. 

She knocked his hand to the side, kneeling up to grasp both his cheeks in her hands. She wasted no time in slotting her lips against his. 

He giggled in confusion, his breath puffing out against her face. 

She refused to be embarrassed as she leaned away, smugness tugging at the corners of her mouth at his wide-eyed expression. It didn't last long, expression schooled in mere moments. 

"If that's what does it for you, just wait until Seonghwa pulls out his lip gloss," Jongho joked, tucking it back into his pocket. 

"Hush," she murmured, leaning close, hands on his chest to kiss him again. 

Yunho’s head was pounding, sharp waves of pain that felt like knives being stabbed right into the grey mush that should have been his brain. He tried to blink his eyes open, but found himself flinching back, curling into a ball and pushing the heels of his palms into his eye sockets. It was too bright and too dark all at once and sent electric currents right through him all over again. Like having shards of glass embedded beneath his lids. Hell, maybe there were, digging in deeper and deeper with each pass of his fingers over the burning pits that should have been eyes.

He breathed through it. Forced himself to inhale one shaky, hitched breath at a time. In - one, two, three. Out - one, two, three. Each inhale like ingesting flames, each exhale on a sob that came from the very bottom of his stomach. He lost count, started hyperventilating, unable to breathe. He was going to vomit - he was vomiting, the bile rising in his throat before he even registered it, splashing wetly against the ground beside him. He would have grimaced, recoiled, if he didn’t feel so weighted down. 

He ached. His whole body felt like just one massive muscle spasm - every bone, muscle, ligament contracted too tight and on fire. Hot and cold; everything and nothing; heavy and weightless all at once. It was maddening. Insane. He had to have gone insane. Fucking crazy, cause why the hell does he remember dying? Why does he remember a frenzy of fists, sharp steel, and bullets? The shattering of glass? The sickening crunch of his own body landing on the rain-slicked pavement below? 

Why does he remember seeing her die? Seeing the glint of a blade before it plunged right into her chest? Red soaking her shirt, the floor beneath her? Why could he still hear the joy-filled cackles of the man in their apartment, their home, their safe place away from everything? 

The memory distorted, splintered and shattered like a broken mirror, tinged red like the blood spilling from his beloved’s wounds. Roaring filled his ears, filled his chest, his throat, spilled from his dry lips, the skin splitting to fill his mouth with the taste of metal. Of rage. 

His screams echoed around him. Bounced off the walls of his skull, bounced off the walls of wherever the fuck he was. 

Drip. Something fell on his face. Cool and wet, right in the center of his forehead. Again. A third time. His lashes fluttered, lids trying to lift but they were far too heavy. Sticky. He frowned, trembling hands swiping at his face. He stilled when fluttering filled his ears, and his eyes were finally able to open. 

There was a bird right in front of his face. Big and oil-slick black and its beak dangerously close. Its head cocked to the side to keep one beady eye on him. He startled, twisting to the side and scrambling away until his back hit a wall. His breath rushed out of him in a harsh wheeze as his skin scraped against exposed brick, the rough material cutting deep into naked, exposed flesh. Slicing until heat dripped down to pool on the floor beneath his ass. 

“What the fuck is going on?” he blurted out, voice loud and echoing in the empty alleyway even as it was a mere croak of breath. He was cold - so fucking cold, like he would never be warm again, like he had never known warmth in his entire life - and his whole body was trembling as flashes of memories continued to fill his mind. Being held down by his legs, by his shoulders, face pressed into the glass-laden floor, forced to watch as she was stabbed. Over and over again, the precious body violated by the sharpness of steel. Over and over. Forced to watch as she sought him out in her pain, in her final moments. Her hand stretched out across the space between them and her eyes big and bright with tears and fear and love. Still full of so much love. For him. For them. And then the light was gone. Her eyes staring at him blankly. Dark in the wretched stillness of her face, gleaming in the harsh yellow fluorescent lighting of their home, still filled with yet unshed tears. 

A sob tore its way from his throat so violently, he had to push his head between his knees to try to catch his breath again. He was going to cry; he already was crying, chest heaving and shoulders hitching with hiccups. He was going to vomit again, stomach lurching even though it was empty. Hollow. His fingers clawed at the tangled mass of his hair as he fought against falling back into hyperventilation, fought against the acid burning its way up his throat.

 She was dead. She died, had been killed right in front. of. him. 

And he had been too! Stabbed in the stomach and pushed out the fucking living room window. So why the fuck was he here? Alive and feeling and too fucking conscious.

The crow squawked, the sound shrill, echoing loudly. Its wings flapped as it hopped closer to him, sharp claws clicking and scraping against dirty, wet pavement. He flinched away from the sudden movement. Flinched again when the black bird spread its wings and took to the air, flying away from him. 

All he could do was stare after the bird’s retreating figure, and as soon as it was but a mere speck of blacker black in the dark of the night, he screamed. He screamed and screamed. Sobbed anew, until his throat was raw and his tongue tasted of copper and he felt as dead as he should have been. The physical pain drowned out the emotions, drowned out the memories. Fueled his rage. 

It began to rain as it simmered away in his system. The blood-boiling anger. The anguish. The deep seated need for revenge. He stood, bones aching, tears and blood mixing with the drops of water flowing down his face. He was going to find them. Find everyone who killed him. Who killed her. And he was going to kill each and every one of them.

⛆ ⛆ ⛆

He stumbled into the apartment -  the one that had been their home, their sanctuary, for years. Rain dripped from his hair, slid down his arms and off his fingertips, to the ground. The place was trashed. Pictures and books ripped and strewn about, glass shattered. Blood still stained the floor, right where he remembered laying, right where he remembered seeing them plunge a dagger right into her heart. Her last breath still rattled off the walls of the apartment, of his skull, and he pushed further into the space, disregarding the pain of glass crunching underfoot, slicing right through sensitive tissue to leave behind prints and smudges on the hardwood.

He stopped to stare at them in awe. Somehow he was alive. He was bleeding, the evidence of it now all over the floor. Red against the grime of the old wood, fresh against the stains of where she had once lain. Stains being all that remained of her. 

Another glance around the space had his heart clenching, stomach rolling like he might be sick again. Then, his eyes caught on something. Hanging on the back of the bathroom door, right where she had left it, the outfit he wore on stage however long ago. A whole lifetime ago. One she had taken great enjoyment in picking out, had taken pleasure in seeing him dressed in for his performance. All black, leather pants and torn cotton long-sleeve, adorned with chains and pins that she had spent hours sewing into the cloth. 

To the side of the door, a vanity. His reflection stared back at him, her favorite cosmetics mocking him where they lie, toppled and dusty with neglect. The days they spent together, him watching her get ready for dates, her urging him to do a facemask with her, helping him with different stage makeup looks. The makeup look she loved on him so much he almost didn’t make it to the venue for his performance, black smudged down his chin and kissed down his neck, mirrored on her own skin. 

⛆ ⛆ ⛆

Dove was cornered. Well, not really. Not entirely. But she couldn’t move if she wanted to get home undiscovered by the group around the corner. She breathed in silent gasps, heart fluttering away like a caged bird, trying not to jump with every shattered bottle and yelled curse from the group. All men, all bigger than her. All obviously under the influence of one thing or another and just looking to cause some kind of trouble. 

It was unlucky that she stumbled upon them–this very specific group of men. They were notorious in the city, even to those outside of the crime circles. Perhaps even especially to those outside the circles. That’s who they loved to prey upon the most, after all. They ran the city, played through it like it was their own personal playground, making it everyone’s own personal nightmare. 

The loudest of the men cursed, and she pressed herself harder into the grimy brick wall that kept her hidden, pressing her lips together to muffle the whimper threatening to spill out. It was dark, nearing midnight. The air wet and cold from the rainfall earlier in the day. Thank goodness it had stopped–even if only for a moment. That didn’t stop the chill that left her trembling, goosebumps lining her exposed skin. 

She had been running late for her shift at the diner and forgot her bag at home, leaving her with the only option of walking home in her uniform. An ugly, too-short thing that left her far more exposed than covered. But the flashes of leg got her more tips and kept the boss off her back. At least she was shorter than most of the other girls, the nasty thing falling a little lower on her thigh. Some of the girls can barely bend to wipe the tables down without showing a flash of whatever they have on underneath. 

Steps, shouts, the distinct sounds of a scuffle. She trembled, eyes squeezing tight, hoping against all hope that none of them came any closer. That she went unnoticed and would be able to make it home unharrassed. The alley way went quiet, but still, she stayed. Her hands gripped her skirt so tightly she could feel her nails digging into her palms even through the rough fabric. 

Something passed in front of her, and she choked back a sob, refusing to open her eyes. If she couldn’t see it coming, it would be more painless. But…nothing happened. One deep breath, and she let her eyes flutter open, spooking when something moved. A bird, blacker than the night. A crow. Staring right at her. 

It squawked, ruffled its wings, then took flight. She blinked. 

A scream stuck in her throat, knees nearly giving out beneath her. There was a man in front of her. Shrouded in shadows and barely visible, but a man nonetheless. Dressed in all black and leather, slouched and arms crossed over his chest in a way that did absolutely nothing to hide how tall he was. 

Long arms unraveled, fell to his sides, heavy combat boots scuffing against the cracked pavement of the alleyway, long leather jacket rustling with his movements. She squeaked, pushed further back into the wall behind her, lifting onto her toes as if that would help any. He stopped a mere step in front of her, face smeared with makeup enough to hide his expression but not the deep furrow of his brows or the intense darkness of his eyes. White base, black lines through his eyes and lips painted into a pointed smile–gothic and clown-like. 

“Go home,” he said, voice gruff like he hadn’t spoken in a long time. “You shouldn’t be out so late.”

Fear transformed into irritation before she could get a handle on it. “Right,” she scoffed. “I shouldn’t be out so late.”

His brows twitched up, seemingly amused by her anger. But he didn’t say anything, simply tilted his head, over-grown black hair falling into his eyes, and started walking away.

Dove scoffed, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. The anger dissipated before she was ready, forcing her breath to release from her lungs in a weary sigh. And when she turned the corner to go home, she couldn’t help but look over her shoulder. 

The man was gone.

She didn’t give herself the time to dwell on it. Who the man was. What he was doing out, in that specific area at that specific time–just in time for the group of degenerates to get in a shuffle that ended in deafening silence. How a man of his stature disappeared so quickly. She didn’t have the time to dwell on it. She shook the interaction off, took a deep breath, and continued on her path home, steadfastly refusing to look around the corner where the group of men should have been, waiting to harass any unsuspecting, innocent person unlucky enough to cross their path. It didn’t take long, not with how fast she was walking, wanting nothing more than to be out of the streets and out of the nasty uniform scratching at her sensitive skin. 

Before she knew it, her apartment building was looming over her. She rushed the squeaky stairs, avoiding the peeling walls of the hallway, coaxing her key into the door to push the creaky door open. Wet boots were toed off, keys thrown on the rickety kitchen table. Usually, she would throw her bag onto the floor by the sofa, but it was already there, the threadbare black fabric mocking her from where it was slouched. 

Her gaze moved from the current bane of her existence to the small body curled in on itself beneath the ratty blanket usually thrown over the back of the piece of furniture. His little head poked out over the top of the material, dark hair a mess and crumbs still on his mouth from whatever after-dinner snack he must have had. The television was playing, casting white-blue light that made him look ghostly, that brought the shadows beneath his eyes, the deep furrow of his brows, and downturn of his lips into stark attention. 

His face was pinched, but he wasn’t restless yet. Whatever nightmare was inevitably going to terrorize him wasn’t there quite yet. She didn’t have to wake him yet. She didn’t want to wake him yet. She would have to, eventually. He needed to sleep in the bed. But he already got so little sleep, plagued by bad dreams and night terrors since that fateful night. 

She turned on her heel, socked feet quiet on the floor as she went to the kitchen. She would give him a few more minutes of semi-peaceful sleep before moving him. A note was stuck to the fridge, words messy and sprawling like the person who wrote them was in a hurry. I gave Gabe the food you left for him. He ate it all and did his homework. I’m so sorry I had to bail before you got here, work called and I can’t miss any more days without being fired. - Sarah

A sigh was all she could give in response. It was a frustrating situation. Scary, even. Any number of things could have happened to her little brother in the time it took for Dove to make it home. But she couldn’t find it in herself feel angry at her neighbor for not being able to stay any later than she already had. Dove had been running late as it was, and she knew the teenager’s boss was short-tempered and fire-happy, that she was trying her hardest to support herself and her drug-addict mother. Sarah needed to work just as badly as Dove herself did. 

She stifled a yawn as she pulled the note from the single magnet she had on the refrigerator door. The paper crumbled in her grip, shook until she crumpled it up and tossed it into the trash. It bounced off the edge, falling to the linoleum floor with a soft sound that sounded all too loud in the dead quiet of the night. 

She should eat. She needed to, even. Having forgotten her bag meant she also forgot her allotted lunch money. Which also meant she was running purely on the one free drink allowed to her at work. Her stomach felt hollow, but she didn’t think she could keep any food down. Not while the adrenaline from her walk home still pulsed through her, not with how much her stomach all but gnawed at itself. 

A sound came from the living room. It was soft, barely there, but it was enough to make her freeze. Silence for a moment, then another noise came. A whimper–one she had become quite familiar with in the last year or so. Gabriel. 

Her steps were hurried as she walked back over to the sofa. The boy had curled into himself, his little form shaking beneath the blanket. She shook the boy by his shoulder, fingers carding through his messy hair, careful to not startle him too much. Forcing calm where she always felt fear and guilt and shame. He had always been scared of sudden noises and loud emotions, and it had become worse after their mother died.

She was not a nice woman by any means, but she had always done her best to provide for Dove as a child and then for him after he was born, even though he was entirely unexpected. Perhaps more distant than she should have been, but she had never lost her temper on them, never cursing or yelling at them. 

Her boyfriends were another story. Each one horrible, each one seemingly worse than the one before him. Always unkind and unforgiving. Thankfully, they treated the kids like they didn’t exist, but they were always angry at their mother. And those situations were always likely to create lasting impressions on anyone, child or adult, who had to witness them. 

“Sissy?” he asked, voice thick with sleep, lower lip trembling and eyes wet, jerking her right back into the present

“It’s just me, baby bird,” she murmured, pulling him up and into her body, suppressing her own tears as he snuffled against her neck. “Let’s get you into bed, hmm?”

⛆ ⛆ ⛆

Yunho cursed himself as he watched the woman leave from his hiding spot in the shadows of the alleyway. What was she thinking walking through this part of the city so late at night? What was he thinking talking to her? Regardless, he shadowed her as she made her way through the city, scowling when she stopped at a derelict apartment building.

He couldn't dwell here any longer. He had shit to get done. People to find. Revenge to exact. He stalked through the night, feeling all the more like a predator as his vision blurred and shifted, aided by his crow companion circling in the air just ahead. 

________

The knife sang through the air when he threw it, the weapon landing with deadly precision, sinking into its own owner’s flesh. Wide, angry eyes losing all light the very next moment. Bodies littered the room, blood running in rivulets, air thick with the smell of gun powder and smoke. The heavy silence of finality–of death–was pierced by the shrieking of police sirens. The crackling of fire. The heavy rainfall against the roof of the building. 

He jumped as the flashing blue and red lights approached, landing heavily on the ground. Heavier than he should have, feet and ankles jarring painfully before he rolled to the ground. The breath was knocked out of him–something that hadn’t happened since he had reawakened in the dingy alleyway however long ago. Pain blurred his vision more than the heavy rain did, and he could feel the pulse of the wounds in his abdomen trying and failing to heal the way it should have. But those bastards had set a trap, injured his crow–luckily, it had gotten away with its life (and his own by extension). 

Yunho blindly made his way through the city, shivering and soaked to the bone before he realized where he was. The dilapidated building sagged over him, looking half-alive in the dirty yellow cast by the streetlights, lowhanging clouds obscuring the top like unruly grey hair, broken windows winking in and out of focus like ghostly eyes in the night. 

He isn’t sure how he found the apartment or when he raised his fist to knock at the door, moving through the building with his mind only half present. He wasn’t in his own body, feeling numb and floaty. It was a choke noise of distress that snapped him back. 

The woman from the alleyway stood before him, clutching the door like she might fall to the floor without its support. She looked frightened, eyes darting over him and then around the hallway. He had to look horrible. Pale and dripping water and blood in puddles. “Help me,” he choked out, barely able to push the words from his throat. 

He was floating again, but present enough to see the shift in her expression. The hardening of her eyes and the firm press of her lips before she turned to look inside. “Gabriel, baby,” she called into the apartment. “I need you to go sit in the bedroom and wait for me to come and get you. Can you do that for me?”

A little voice answered back, trembling but strong. “Yes, sissy.” Soft footsteps pattered through, a door opened then clicked shut. 

Silence settled heavy over the apartment before she grabbed his wrist and pulled him inside. Her grip was tight–grounding–but he could feel the tremors in her fingers as she dragged him further inside. The apartment is dark, lit only by the streetlights shining in from outside, but she navigated the both of them through the space with ease, pulling him quickly down a hall, keeping herself pointedly between him and the closed door just on the other side of the hallway.  

“Shirt,” she said, voice clipped as she riffled through a cabinet beneath the sink. She straightened, first-aid kit in hand, brow arched when she saw that he hadn’t moved.  “Do you need help?” she asked, something softer leaking into her voice as she set the plastic box on the sink, leaving it to balance precariously on the lip of the chipped porcelain bowl. 

“Please,” he whispered around the lump sitting in his throat. His mind was back in his body again, and he felt heavy. So heavy. Like his skin and muscles were pressing in on his bones and weights were attached to his eyelids. He wasn’t sure he could lift his arms on his own even if he tried. 

The woman was quick but gentle as she worked the tight black material from his torso. A startled gasp stuck in her throat, fingers worrying the soaked material and eyes stuck to him. She was trembling again, he noticed. And he looked around her to catch sight of himself in the mirror. Scars littering his skin. Some old, shiny and white against his already pale skin–the ones that had caused his initial death. But it was the new ones, bright red and obviously irritated, still leaking blood down his chest that must have shocked her.  

“Where'd the blood come from?” she asked, stepping back from him, pink-stained fingers raising. “What happened?”

“It was mine,” he said. “Mostly.”

“Mostly,” she repeated, exhaling a sharp breath. “What the fuck does that mean? How the fuck are you alive? These wounds would have most people in the hospital right now. Most people would be dead already.” 

“I’m not…most people,” he said. “I’m not even sure I'm a person.”

His knees were buckling before he could find the strength to stop it. Whatever questions had been blazing in her eyes left, and she scrambled to catch him before he could fall. Grip firm as she helped him a step back to settle his dead weight on the toilet. 

“How are you not dead?” she murmured, eyes locked on the gaping wounds in his chest, the one on his side, the one above his belly button. “You need to be in a hospital with all these.”

“I can’t go to a hospital,” he panted out.

“Why not?”

“I’m already dead,” he said. “I’m supposed to be dead.”

Her eyes were sharp, cutting, as they looked into his own again. “What the fuck does that mean?” Fear and impatience pushed her voice an octave higher. 

His arm lifted on its own, trembling fingers brushing the warm curve of her cheek before she could stumble back. He saw the moment she fell into his memories, the moment the pain hit and she realized what she was seeing. Just enough to explain but not enough to harm her. His arm was falling heavily into his lap before she was gasping, tears clumping her eyelashes. 

She didn’t say anything, blinking through tears and disbelief. She surprised him by reaching for the first-aid kit in favor of wiping the wetness from her face or asking questions. He let her. He let the silence hang in the air, unwilling to break it save for the sharp hisses that escape his throat as she cleaned his skin, disinfected the wounds, and covered them with sterile cotton pads. 

“You’re good at that,” he said, watching her grab his shirt from the floor to throw it into the tub, wipe the puddle of bloody water from the cracked linoleum, then turn to the sink.

“I was a nurse.” Her voice was soft as she started to scrub at her hands, pink foam rinsing away before she went in for another round of soap. Then a third. Then she was hunched over the sink, water still running as her shoulders shook. 

She was straightening before he could say anything else, eyes vacant and so far away concern settled in his chest. “You’re welcome to stay if you have nowhere to go. Don’t go near my bedroom. Goodnight.” With that, she turned and stumbled across the hall. 

The water was still going. 

⛆ ⛆ ⛆

There’s a tiny human curled into her side when she wakes up, the world still gray outside her bedroom window. Whether because it was still raining or because it was just that early, she wasn’t entirely sure. But she wiggled out of bed, anyway, carefully retucking the blanket around Gabriel to keep the chill of the apartment as far away from his skin as possible. 

Flashes of the night before came to her as she walked to the bathroom. The man with his waterlogged clothes and smudged face paint. The blood running down his torso in rivers. The blurry flashes of his life now embedded in her brain. I’m supposed to be dead. How was he not dead? 

Dove felt like she was sleepwalking as she went about her morning. Her coffee was warm but flavorless, her work uniform scratching at her skin feeling like nothing. The walk to work was a blur. Feeling and awareness didn’t come fully back to her until halfway through her shift, and the bombardment to her senses left her shaky and needing to step outside for a moment. 

The alleyway behind the restaurant was empty, lined with trash, the asphalt wet. But blessedly lacking in people. The breeze was light and the mist cool as it fell on her skin. Everything she needed to calm down. 

Something rustled, something else scraped against the ground. Reminding her of a few nights ago. Of last night. Of that man. She glanced around the alleyway, noticed a flicker in the shadows, a crow propped on the ledge of a building just above. Instead of fear, something else settled in her chest. Something almost warm. Something unexpected. 

She didn’t dwell on it. Instead, turning on her heel to walk back inside. 

________

The night was heavy, the clouds hanging low and fog blurring the edges of the world. The heaviness pressed down on her the closer she got to home. The night darker. The fog thicker. A smell swirling its way into her nose. Stifling. Smoke. 

Her heart kicked in her chest, and her steps fell quicker. Harder. Water kicked up from the pavement to wet the backs of her legs as she sped home. Hoping against hope it wasn’t coming from where she was most afraid of it coming from. 

She froze. Stopped breathing. Fire and smoke billowed from the broken windows, people scrambling from the one entrance of the building. She scanned them all, searching, heart in her throat, for a single head of dark ringlets. Where is he? “Gabriel?” she called over the bustle of the people and the crackling of the flames. 

He wasn’t there. 

She rushed to the entrance, ignoring the hands and cries of people trying to keep her outside. She pushed them away, running inside and up the rickety stairs. Sweat beaded on her skin, smoke choked her lungs. She didn’t stop, kept running down the hall, fighting her apartment door open when she finally reached it. 

The fire wasn’t in her apartment. Not yet. “Gabriel,” she called again, coughing as smoke continued to assault her airways. “Where are you, baby?” 

A muffled voice came from down the hall. The bedroom. She ran harder than she had just a moment before, down the hall and into the room. He wasn’t where she could see him. “Gabriel, where are you?” she called again. 

The closet door was pushed open, dark curls and sparkling eyes peering up at her in fear. 

She rushed to him, too scared to worry about frightening him. “Pull your shirt over your nose, baby. Can you do that for me?” She didn’t wait for him to answer, pulling the material up before he had the chance and pulling his hand up to hold it there. “Keep that there, okay?” 

The roar of the fire was getting louder, the temperature rising, the building creaking. They needed to leave. She hurried him out of the room. Out of the apartment. There was a sharp crack, and something fell behind them as they turned into the hallway. Gabriel screamed, gripped her arm tighter, and she ushered him to the stairs. 

They were halfway down when there was another creak. Loud. Ominous. The step beneath her feet gave way, and she fell through. Gabriel screamed again, his grip tight on her, like he was trying to pull her up. 

She was dizzy–from the heat, the smoke, the adrenaline. Unable to focus her blurring vision, but there was no mistaking the sound of footsteps, even with the sounds of the fire and her fear-muffled ears. No mistaking the shadow creeping up the stairs, the long black jacket and large frame. 

He stopped before her, looking every inch an avenging angle in the flickering orange of flame and the haze of smoke. He didn’t say anything, simply hauled her up, set her on her feet, and rushed her and Gabriel the rest of the way down the stairs and outside. He didn’t stop when they got out, pulling them across the street and onto the cracked sidewalk. 

Sirens rang through the air, cutting through the sounds of the fire and the cries and curious murmurs of everyone standing outside, and Gabriel jumped. She startled back into awareness to crouch down to his level. He was crying, struggling to breathe through his sobs. Her heart squeezed as she pulled him into her body. She hushed him, murmuring into his hair, “It’s okay, baby. Just let it out, hmm? There you go. You did so good. Listened to me soso well.”

⛆ ⛆ ⛆

As if Yunho couldn't stop himself, he was reaching out, trembling fingers brushing the wetness from her cheek. And then memories were flooding into him.

“You knew her?” he asked, unable to stop just how broken he sounded. 

“Who?” 

“I saw her,” he said, swallowing hard enough she could hear his throat click. “The woman I was going to marry. My Daisy. You knew her. I saw it, saw her through your eyes.” 

“Daisy,” she whispered. Her voice was soft, wet with a sadness she thought she had long-since gotten a handle on. The memories came back to her  Of a hospital and blue scrubs, the smell of disinfectant, a woman lying unconscious on a bed.  “Daisy Draven?”

His expression said more than words ever could.

“I was her nurse when she was trying to get clean. Before…before I quit.”

“You stayed with her,” he said. “You sat with her all night.”

“I didn’t want her to be alone,” she whispered, voice thick with tears. “But I ended up leaving her, anyway.”

The words hung heavy in the quiet between them, and she hugged her brother tighter to her body, stifling a sob as he shuddered in her hold. It was raining again. The chill pressing in, wet and oppressive, as she willed herself not to break right there. 

He gave a humorless bark of a laugh, pushing a hand through long, wet strands of hair. “Guess we have that in common, then.”

⛆ ⛆ ⛆

Wooyoung hogged her attention until one of the others heard him trying to sneak her down the hall and into his bedroom. He wasn’t very sneaky about it, giggling and pressing wet kisses into her skin loud enough they echoed off the walls. Mingi, apparently now ready to be awake and presumably hearing Wooyoung’s commotion, opened Yunho’s bedroom door, catching Wooyoung in the act. 

He stared for a moment, blinking bleary eyes at the two of them before stealing her right out of a protesting Wooyoung’s arms. His movements were slow, sloppy, but Wooyoung didn’t make a move to stop his friend, complaining aloud even as he helped steady her when Mingi’s large frame stumbled, hand warm on her bare shoulder before retreating a step back. 

“Morning, Mingi.” She laughed, ignoring Wooyoung’s petulant huffing and puffing behind her in favor of throwing her arms around Mingi’s broad shoulders. “I thought you would sleep longer.”

Mingi hummed, holding her tighter against his warm chest. “Couldn’t go back to sleep,” he said, fumbling his grip around her waist to ensure her towel stayed in place. “Missed you. Yuyu wouldn’t let me cuddle him.”

“Poor baby,” she cooed, pressing a kiss to his chin. “Just need attention all the time, hmm?”

A sound bubbled up in his throat that sounded suspiciously like a whine, his head swinging in a sleepy left and right that had her laughing. 

“Don’t deny it, you needy thing,” she teased, letting her fingers sift through his messy hair, working through the tangles in an attempt to get the strands to lay properly on his head. “It’s cute.”

“M’not cute,” Mingi murmured, brows pulling down low over his eyes and full lips pushing out in a pout that entirely defeated his disagreement. 

Her brows rose, and she hummed. “Funny, Yeosang said the exact same thing earlier,” she said. “You can be cute and also be handsome or cool or sexy or whatever else you wanna be, you know.”

“You’ve got a point,” he admitted, but his brows were still furrowed and his lips still pouted.

“D’you wanna cuddle until Jongho comes back with my clothes?” Rora asked, unable to stop herself as she dotingly smoothed down his sleep mussed hair again. 

That brightened him up, brows rising high on his forehead and eyes practically disappearing behind the big gummy smile he shot at her. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, baby,” she said, melting against him when his arms tightened around her middle. Wooyoung let out a noise, and she looked back at him, giggling at his disgruntled expression. “Of course you can join too, Youngie. We were going to your room anyway, right?”

“Fuck yeah,” he quickly agreed, grabbing both of them by the arms, forcing them to stumble the rest of the way down the hall to his opened bedroom door and pushing them into a giggling heap atop his still very unmade bed. 

“You can just use your words, you know.” Rora laughed as he pushed and pulled her and Mingi around on the bed. 

He huffed and continued what he was doing, shuffling the blankets around to cover them once everyone was where he wanted them. “That’s not nearly as fun,” he murmured, settling down to one side of Mingi, throwing an arm and a leg around his larger friend. His fingers wrapped lightly around hers, pulling until her arm was snuggly around Mingi’s chest, fingers linked with Wooyoung’s. 

They stayed like that, her and Wooyoung wrapped around a very happy Mingi, for at least an hour. Long enough that the other friends seemingly took turns stopping by the room to check on them. Long enough for Jongho and San to finish up at her apartment, come back, and start looking for her. 

She squealed when a broad shouldered man ran into the room to jump across the three of them, the two men laying on the bed groaning when his weight landed on them. San crawled over his friends to cage her head between two muscular arms. “Hi, darling,” he said, dimples on full display and damp hair hanging over his eyes.

“Hi, Sannie,” she said. “Did you have a good workout?”

He nodded, leaning down to nuzzle her cheek, pressing kisses to her jaw. 

“You smell like my shampoo,” she murmured, sniffing at his hair again just to confirm, unable to stop the little flutter of happiness when the familiar jasmine scent filled her senses, undercurrents of almond and shea coming through, mixing pretty well with San’s usual cologne. “And my soap. Did you shower at my place?”

“Mhm. Jongho came before I could shower at the gym and didn’t wanna make him wait too long.” He shifted, settling more into his position atop his friends, easily ignoring their protests and groans of pain. “S’that okay?”

“More than.” She kissed his cheek. “How’s Teddy? He doing okay?”

“He’s fine,” Jongho finally said. Her gaze fell from San’s to watch Jongho walk further into the room. He smiled as he crouched beside her, elbows propped on the mattress to lean closer to her, fingers playing with the strands of her hair that were splayed out on the pillow only to give a playful tug. The sharp gasp that elicited made him laugh, but he soothed the sting in her scalp with a tender touch that had her eyes threatening to flutter closed. “He ate his food and played with Sannie for a little while. He was curled up for a nap in your bed by the time we left.”

“Thank you,” she said. “What clothes did you bring me?”

A smirk crawled onto his face. “None, sorry. Guess you’ll have to stay in that towel.”

Scoffing, she rolled her eyes only to pout up at him. “When did you become such a pervert?” she whined. 

All he did was laugh, grabbing a bag from the floor. “I found a dress that I remember you wearing to work once a long time ago. Remembered how pretty you looked in it and knew it would drive Yeosangie a little crazy.”

A brow rose in surprise. “Yeosang?”

San huffed out a laugh. “Her thighs look a little extra good in that one, baby bear?”

“Scrumptious, even,” he said, eyes gleaming with mischief. 

“You’re gonna torture the poor guy.” Despite his words, San’s tone was filled with amusement and his chest continued to rumble with laughter. 

“Good.” Jongho smirked, eyes still sparkling as they looked down at her. “Now, up you get. Time to get dressed.”

“You’re sadistic,” she grumbled lightheartedly, barely containing the giggle beginning to bubble in her throat. “And bossy.”

“You like bossy,” Mingi and Wooyoung said in unison, sending the two of them into fits of laughter that echoed off the walls and shook the bed. 

“Been nothing but sweet to you two all morning and you decide to gang up on me. I see how it is,” she snipped, wiggling her way out from the tangle of limbs and grabby hands. 

Jongho handed her the bag he brought, and her brows arched as she shuffled through the contents. A finger hooked through a pair of delicate white lace panties she rarely wore, dangling it in the air as she looked between Jongho and San. “Who decided on this?”

“It was a unanimous decision,” San answered, cheeks flushing and eyes turning into crescents with the shy smile curling at the corners of his lips. “But I suggested also including the matching bra. Wanted to see you in it. Knew you’d look pretty in the full set. And Jongho agreed.”

“Guess I could get dressed here and show you, hmm?” she mused, laughing when all four men agreed with great enthusiasm. Her head tilted, and she looked at Sannie with a tiny smile. “Or would you like to help me wear it? You seem to like the idea of dressing me up.”

Cheeks still pink, he just stared at her from his place on the bed, like he needed a moment to process her suggestion. Then, he was scrambling up from the pile of bodies and pushing a laughing Jongho aside to get to her.

He took great joy in unknotting her towel, strong hands soft on her skin, gaze all but reverent as every inch of her was exposed to everyone in the room. He was gentle in caressing her belly, sneaking around her hips to give her ass a cheeky squeeze that had everyone laughing at her little squeak of surprise. 

Quiet murmurs of praise filled her cheeks with pink and had her skin thrumming with the heat of all of their eyes on her. She loved it, even if the initial courage gave way to embarrassment. There was nothing but warmth from each of them, maybe a bit of lust as they skimmed over her nakedness. As they took note of the way her nipples pebbled in the air of the room, how her thighs squeezed together and her arms came around her middle before falling away to allow Sannie to soothe her back into full comfort. 

The broad-shouldered man kneeled before her, helping her step into her panties. A mere scrap of lace that disappeared between her cheeks and hugged her hips in a way that she often found herself just that slightest bit too conscious of. But the fabric was soft. Pretty. And she loved the way Sannie’s eyes lit up, warm and soft and all but reverent, when he pulled them up her thighs. As he settled the material over her hips. Loved the way his fingers traced the top of the panties, calloused fingertips smoothing over where they dug into her skin, before trailing up her belly with such tenderness that goosebumps rose in their wake. 

The bra came next, nimble fingers sliding the straps up her arms and over her shoulders. “Turn for me?” San murmured, pressing a kiss to her sternum, guiding her hands up to hold the bra in place.  

She did as he asked, eyes falling on Jongho. His eyes skimmed over her before coming to rest on her face again. Her breath caught at the look on his face. At the combination of affection and heat there. At the smirk that slowly formed as he took notice of how he affected her. 

Hands kneaded at her ass, up her back. Fingers tickled over her ribs before coming to catch the bra hooks to hook them together. Then kisses were trailing down her spine, hands kneading her ass again. 

“Fucking love your ass, darling,” San all but whined, teeth sinking into the flesh of one cheek hard enough that she yelped. 

“What’s with you and biting me?” she scolded, biting back a giggle as his fingers tickled up her sides again, wiggling away from him until he gripped her hips to pull her back to him. 

“Stop being so biteable,” he murmured, pressing kissed over where, no doubt, an imprint of his teeth was embedded in her skin, making her shudder in his hold. “Sorry, darling. That one might bruise.”

A knock came at the door, and she turned to see Hongjoong there, arms crossed over his chest but a smile on his face as he leaned against the door frame. Yeosang peeked in over his friend’s shoulder, freezing when he spotted her. She shivered at the way his lips parted. How his eyes raked over her, teeth trapping his bottom lip. His eyes caught hers for a moment, cheeks reddening, before he disappeared from the doorway altogether. 

“Hwa’s appointment is in half an hour,” Hongjoong said when her attention came back to him, already turning to leave, glancing over his shoulder with a little grin. “We gotta leave in 10 minutes if we want to make it in time.”

Rora giggled when three of the four men in the room grumbled and whined at their older friend’s words. “Are you done, Sannie? Or are you gonna help me with my dress too?”

San hummed, reaching to pull the dress from the bag and carefully pulling it over her head. It was a soft fabric, sage green and dotted with little daisies, with thin straps and a square neckline that outlined her breasts well. She had to agree with Jongho, too. It did frame her legs nicely, flaring out in an a-line at the top of her hips and falling just far enough on her thigh, where she wished every shorter piece of clothing she owned would stop but almost never would wear out in public. 

She felt pretty in it, felt pretty under their gazes and unfiltered praises, giggling as she was pulled back down into the cuddle pile. Mingi and Wooyoung littered her with kisses until Mingi got too excited and caught her mouth with his own, stealing her breath and gripping her close to him until she had to thread her fingers in his hair and tug to pull him away.

He looked entirely unrepentant. Particularly smug as his eyes roamed over her face to take in the flush of her cheeks and the wet shine of her lips. Even as San and Wooyoung tackled him away from her and into a bout of playful wrestling and tickling that had the larger man shrieking with laughter. Jongho helped her from the bed just in time, as the three of them rolled right into the spot that she had been laying in. 

She giggled in his hold, letting him sweep her from the room and down the hall, where her dates were likely waiting for her. Jongho cleared his throat, hands disappearing from her skin and into the pockets of his sweats. “I have a cardigan you can borrow to wear over your dress,” Jongho suggested, chin hooking over her shoulder as they shuffled awkwardly closer to the living area. “So you don’t get cold.”

“I love how I don’t even have to steal clothes from any of you. You all just offer them up without anyone even asking,” 

“So you don't get cold,” Jongho reiterated, but when she glanced back at him, his eyes were looking forward, refusing to look in her direction, and the red in his ears was traveling to his cheeks.

“Just admit you like when I wear your clothes, bear.” Her lips pressed against a pink-dusted cheek. “I’m not gonna say no.”

He pushed her to sit on the sofa, hands gentle and face sulky, and left her in the living room. There was clattering in the kitchen, shuffling, the rustling of clothing. Curiosity got the best of her, and she turned to see Seonghwa looking through the fridge while Yeosang adjusted and fussed over his clothes. He was dressed in a simple white shirt tucked into belted light-wash jeans, but he looked incredible. Flashes of skin caught her eyes, the bulging and flexing of arms, as he pulled at his t-shirt to look it over. Seonghwa murmured something that she couldn’t quite catch, but whatever he said made Yeosang relax and let his shirt go. Until he turned to the living room and tensed up again, seeming to startle upon seeing her seated on the sofa. How he didn’t hear her and Jongho coming in, she wasn’t sure. But it was endearing, nonetheless. 

“Didn’t mean to scare you, Yeosangie,” she said, pulling a leg up onto the sofa to tuck it beneath her, watching in awe as his eyes tracked her movements, locking in on the way her thigh expanded upon settling against the cushion. Pretty lips parting again, a flash of pearly white teeth and pink tongue. Eyes so surprisingly intense for a long moment, she couldn’t breath. Not until he startled, looking away when Jongho came back into the room, a soft looking sweater folded over his arm. 

Jongho laughed at Yeosang upon his arrival, taking in his friend’s flustered face, how his eyes darted away from everyone in the room. Jongho’s knowing, satisfied look sent her giggling as she took the cream cardigan from his outstretched hand.

Seonghwa sighed, letting the refrigerator door fall closed, arms stretching over his head as he turned, the loose sleeves of his open-knit sweater pooling at his elbows and the bottom lifting to show a sliver of taut tummy. The cream color of it made him look soft, cozy, and had him nearly glowing in the late morning light. Looking like an angel, him and Yeosang both. 

A smile crossed Seonghwa’s lips when he saw her sitting on the couch. His face was soft, eyes shining under the kitchen lights, hair falling into his eyes as his head tilted. “There’s nothing to really eat here. How about we order some food and have it delivered to the salon?” Her stomach answered for her, grumbling at the thought of food, and he laughed, head tipping back just enough to emphasize the pretty line of his neck, the golden glint of a delicate chain gleaming over the ridges of his collarbones. “I’ll order it on the drive there,” he said, voice soft, trembling with lingering laughter. 

“Hmm?” She turned to see Hongjoong walking into the room, face shining with what she assumed to be a layer of not-yet-set skincare. He looked both put together and casual in a button-up and ripped black jeans, hair messy on his head, pushed back by a pair of sunglasses. 

“You’re driving so I can order us food,” Seonghwa said. 

Hongjoong nodded, picking at his shirt and adjusting the way it fit on his frame. “You still have my card info on your delivery app, right? You’re already paying for the salon - charge the food to my card. And make sure to get some coffee.”

Seonghwa flustered for a moment, mouth opening and closing before he finally sighed, lips tipping up into a little smile. Affectionately defeated, like he knew it wouldn’t be worth it to fight his friend on the matter but he appreciated the offer nonetheless. “Yeah, okay. Thanks, Joong.”

Hongjoong hummed, looking around at everyone as he re-tucked the front of his button up into his jeans. The move should have been awkward, but as his gaze locked with her own, deft fingers adjusting his belt, she couldn’t help but swallow. The corner of his mouth went up, but he didn’t say anything about it. 

“Are we all ready to go?” he asked. 

The three men started making their way to the front door, taking turns to slip into their shoes at the entrance, and she turned to Jongho, who had been silently standing near the couch the whole time. Rora tucked his cardigan closer to her chest as she stood, leaning into him to plant a lingering kiss on his cheek. “See you later, bear,” she said. 

“Have fun, precious,” he murmured, smoothing his thumb over her jaw lightly. 

She hummed. “Don’t miss me too much,” she teased, giggling when he rolled his eyes.

“Go before he drags you to his cave and keeps you for himself,” Wooyoung interrupted, cackling and running back down the hallway when Jongho turned to him.

♡♡♡

The drive was quiet, interrupted only by Seonghwa asking soft questions about what everyone would like from a bagel place he promised was good (Sannie tested and everything). The order was placed and they were just waiting for the driver to pick up and deliver. As soon as they got to the shop, Seonghwa was greeted with a hug and a warm call of his name by a ball of energy with short, colorful hair and sick graphic liner. “How’ve you been, Hwa?” The person asked, pulling back to look at his face, gloss-slicked lips pulling up into a grin. “Are you ready to finally go pink?”

With previous partners, she might have felt uncomfortable. Not jealous, really. And maybe she was a bit uncomfortable at that moment. But it felt more like usual first-date jitters. The usual meeting-a-new-person, twist in her stomach. The typical about to make a change to her appearance that she gets every time she goes for a haircut, tries on a new piece of clothing, or experiments with makeup. 

“So ready,” he confirmed, lips stretching into a wide, pretty smile. He took a step away from the person, looking behind his shoulder to catch her gaze. His eyes roamed over her face, gauging her reaction, making sure she was okay, seeming to catch the nerves in her posture. His expression softened before he beckoned the three of them further inside. “Naomi, you’ve met Joong, right? He came along on my last appointment. And this is Yeosang and Rora. If it wouldn’t be too much, would you want to have some fun with their hair, too? I’m sorry to just spring this on you. I should have called ahead to ask, but it was a last minute idea and I got too excited.” 

“You brought friends!” Naomi’s face practically glowed as she moved a few steps away from him to glance over them. A bubbly little sound came from her lips and her hands clapped together. “Of course I don’t mind! I have nothing else going on today, anyway. You’ve practically booked up my whole day, remember? Come in, come in!”

She was quick in seating them, each of them in a chair, turned to watch her start working on Seonghwa. Hongjoong flip-flopped between dozing off and speaking with her and Yeosang until the food Seonghwa ordered was finally delivered, the coffee taking effect quickly and sending him into a buzz of laughter and conversation that had him twitching in his seat and practically glowing, even under the fluorescent lighting of the salon. 

And Yeosang kept glancing at her with flushed cheeks and dark eyes, tongue poking out occasionally, a teasing glimpse of pink that made her heart flutter every time it happened. It took a while for him to loosen up, but before she knew it, he was laughing aloud at jokes and sending shockingly sharp jabs at his friends that sent her laughing aloud. 

To her own surprise, she was quick in relaxing into the situation. The three men and Naomi kept the conversations flowing with an ease that she admired, and when they all fell into silence, none of them seemed anxious to fill it. It was comfortable. Like every other interaction she’d had with any eight of these men since meeting them. They were all just so…kind and 

Soon, Noami was done slapping thick globs of bleach and foils onto Hwa’s hair with quick, practiced movements until his head was fully covered in aluminum pieces. The hairdresser had barely peeled the gloves from her hands before Seonghwa was moving. 

Rora watched in the mirror as Seonghwa pulled his bag into his lap, searching around for something she couldn't quite see. With a triumphant noise, he pulled out a gaming system. His eyes were gleaming under the store lights, enhanced by the glinting of the foils decorating his head. He froze when he saw her looking, face almost guilty "Do you mind if I play?" he asked.

"Not at all," Rora said, containing a giggle when his face immediately brightened up and he wiggled in his seat. 

Naomi moved to stand behind her, stealing her attention from the adorably excited man as she moved her fingers through her hair. "What were you thinking of getting done?" Naomi asked, meeting her eyes in the large mirror. 

“I’ve been wanting to try a split dye for a while,” she said, eyes sliding from the hairdresser’s face in the mirror to settle on Hongjoong’s. Her cheeks were already warm from the interaction with a new (very pretty) person, but they flamed even brighter when his eyes widened, a smug smile finding home on his lips. She cleared her throat. “Blonde and my natural color.”

“I love it when redheads add some blond,” Naomi said, working a comb through her hair to part it properly down the middle. “You’re wanting a proper half and half split dye, right? One full side of blonde?”

“Yes,” Rora confirmed.

“Are you gonna want a cut too?”

“Please,” she said, laughing lightly. “I need some of this length gone.”

“This is gonna be fun,” she said, clapping her hands together once. “I’m just going to go get everything ready and I’ll be right back, okay?”

  “Yeah, thank you.” Rora murmured, head nodding as she forced herself to relax into the chair again.

As Naomi walked away from her, the hairdresser turned to Hongjoong, who was shifting in his seat and adjusting his hair on his head. “Hongjoong, are you wanting to touch up your own hair again or do you want help this time?” Naomi asked. 

He glanced at her over his shoulder with a charming little grin. “I can do it, Naomi. Thank you.” 

“I’ll mix you some up too, then,” she said. “Yeosang.” Said man perked up at his name being called. “I’ll get to you in a little bit, okay? Sit tight.” When he nodded his acknowledgment, she disappeared around a corner at the far end of the studio space. 

She came back and got started quickly, parting her hair and painting it with bleach with steady, practiced moves. Naomi was halfway through bleaching her hair when their eyes met briefly in the mirror. “Rora,” she said softly, a question already curling up at the end of her words. “How did you come to meet my favorite clients?” 

Rora had to pause for a moment, shutting off her phone screen and settling it face down on her lap. “Do you want the full version or a summary?” she asked, swallowing when the eyes of the three men also settled on her, their curious gazes like weights on her face. 

“You can tell me whatever you want to tell me. Or you can tell me nothing,” she said sweetly. “I won’t judge or pressure you.”

Rora breathed out through her mouth, slow and steady. “Some of my coworkers talked me into going out after work one Friday evening. Coerced me, more like, but I agreed to go so they would finally just…stop asking and making comments about how I never go out,” she started. “They left me as soon as we got through the door, saying they were going to get drinks or something. But when I made it to the bar, they weren’t there. I couldn’t see them anywhere, so I just sat at the bar, trying to enjoy a drink cause I had worked so hard to dress up and everything. And yeah, I felt like I looked good, yunno? It would have been such a waste to just go home.”

Naomi made a little noise in the back of her throat. “Did you take any pictures?” she asked, leaning closer. “I’m so invested in this now, and I need to properly visualize it.” 

Fumbling to flip her phone back around, Rora flipped through the pictures in her phone, flustering further as Seonghwa, Hongjoong, and Yeosang came over, crowding as close as they dared to see the picture themselves. She found it quickly enough, the full body mirror picture she took just a little too long perfecting before stepping out her door. Her heels, the shiny red of the dress, the dark red pop of her lipstick barely visible behind her phone. It was one of the best pictures she had ever taken of herself.

“Damn, girl, yeah. You looked hot. Definitely would have been a shame to just go home!” Naomi exclaimed. “What happened next?”

Her cheeks flushed at the memories, and she cleared her throat, watching the three men go back to their respective chairs as she thought about the best way to word the rest of the story. “Two of their friends, Wooyoung and San, sat next to me at the bar, asked if I wanted to dance. We had fun, and they made the night so much better than I imagined it would be. One thing led to another, and turns out I’ve been working with one of their other friends, Jongho, for the last year or so. Had met another one that same afternoon, even. Eventually, I met the whole group and apparently, they want me to stick around.”

Naomi hummed, continuing to gently swipe bleach into Rora’s hair. “I don’t know all of them, obviously,” she said. “Or you all that well, for that matter. I’m sorry your coworkers did that to you. That was really shitty of them, and you didn’t deserve that. But I’m glad something good came out of it. If the rest of them are anything like Seonghwa or Hongjoong, they’ve gotta be some really great people.”

Hongjoong, Seonghwa, and Yeosang shifted sheepishly in their chairs, cheeks and ears pink at the praise, and Rora couldn’t help the grin forming on her face. “They are,” she agreed, watching as the three men grew even more flustered under her gaze. 

They were at the salon for hours, but the time passed by in a blur of tingling scalp, giggle-filled conversations, and observations she was able to make about the three men. Like how Hongjoong tried to lead conversations, even when he might have been feeling a little awkward, offering to be the bridge to keep things moving smoothly. How Yeosang may have often needed to ask people to repeat things they said but was surprisingly sharp and observant. How Seonghwa got completely lost in his game at one point, gleaming with happiness as he clicked buttons and copied the noises of the little characters on the screen. How the two oldest friends practically coddled Yeosang, casually wiping his face of food crumbs after they all ate or cooing at him adoringly when he did something they deemed particularly cute. How easy it was for them to do such acts, like they had been doing it without thought for years and years. And maybe they have. She didn’t know how long they had known each other, but the closeness of all eight of them spoke of years of friendship and comfort and understanding. 

By the end of their salon date, her hair was shorter and half blonde, Hongjoong’s split dye was retouched, Seonghwa’s hair was a gorgeous bubblegum pink that made him glow, and Yeosang’s hair was green with lines of black striked through. He had told Naomi he wanted to try it, but he didn’t want the whole thing to be as permanent. So, they settled on bleaching his hair, dying it green, and having some fun with some hair chalk Naomi had been curious about and was excited to finally be using on someone. 

The sun was nearly setting by the time they were all done and Jongho was pulling up outside the salon. Rora grinned at him as he stepped out of the car, adjusting his shirt as he walked closer. “Hi, bear,” she greeted brightly, letting him pull her into a hug, her arms going around his middle.

“Hi,” he greeted, planting a kiss on her forehead. “I like the hair,” he said, pulling back to look her over better, a hand coming up to brush over the freshly bleached half of her head. “It looks good on you.”

“Thank you,” she said. 

Abruptly, he pulled away from her and stalked over to his friends, throwing an arm around Yeosang’s shoulders. “You’re coming with us,” he said, manhandling the confused man over to his car. “Say bye, precious.”

Rora tsked, but she couldn’t fight the smile threatening to take over her face as she stepped closer to Hongjoong and Seonghwa. “You leaving us?” Hongjoong asked, arms crossed over his chest. 

She looked between them, mirroring Seonghwa’s pout as she nodded. “Mhm,” she hummed, taking a step closer to them. Her head tilted, teeth nibbling her bottom lip before she pressed up to press a kiss to Seonghwa’s and then Hongjoong’s cheek. When she rocked back onto her heels, Hongjoong reached for her, hand around the back of her neck to pull her close. Noses brushing, breath mingling for only a moment, and then his lips were on hers. Soft and firm, pulling a gasp right from her. 

Soft fingers were gripping her chin, turning her head until Hongjoong’s lips disconnected from hers, another pair taking his place. Plush, slightly sticky from some gloss or balm. A tongue teased her bottom lip, cherry exploding in her mouth as she opened up for him. Then nothing, eyes still closed and breaths coming from her in soft pants. The warmth of them retreated, and she whined, much to their amusement. Their laughter had warm breath fanning her face as they pressed twin kisses to each of her cheeks. 

“Have fun with Jongho and Yeosangie, bunny,” Seonghwa murmured. 

Her eyes fluttered open, and she let herself just…look at him for a moment. “The pink looks really good on you, Hwa,” she said, brushing her fingers through his hair, tucking some loose strands behind his ear. “Like, really good.”

His face went soft with his smile. “Thank you, bunny,” he said. “We’ll see you later, okay?”

She nodded, turned, and scurried over to where Jongho was waiting. 

“Wanna sit in the back with Sangie, baby?” He phrased it like a question, like he was merely suggesting it. But it seemed more like a demand. One that she found herself excitedly nodding to, allowing him to open the back door and help her inside. 

Yeosang watched as she settled in beside him, eyes wide and lips parted as he watched her hook her seatbelt and smooth her dress out over her thighs. 

The ride was tense, thick with something that had anticipation bubbling away in her belly. She caught Jongho’s gaze as he glanced back, tongue darting out to wet her bottom lip, breath hitching at the heat there. His eyes darted over to Yeosang for a moment, the corners of his lips ticking up in a mischievous little smirk. 

“Did I make a good pick, Yeosangie?” Jongho asked, eyes glancing back through the rearview mirror when the car came to a stop at a red light. “The dress looks so good on her, doesn’t it?” His voice was low, teasing. Knowing. Bordering on sadistic amusement. 

Her thighs squeezed shut, fingers curling in the fabric of her dress. 

She could feel Yeosang looking at her, could feel it as he took her in, and she looked over to see his eyes on the bare skin of her legs, bottom lip tucked between his teeth. Satisfaction bubbled in her chest, head going hazy with need. Her grip tightened on her dress, inching the material up just the slightest bit more. 

A noise fell from his parted lips, strong hands flexing where they rested in his lap. 

“You can touch me, Yeosangie,” she murmured, letting her thighs fall open just the slightest bit, shifting in his direction, debating just moving into the middle seat.

It was quiet enough in the car that she heard his breath catch in his throat. Heard the shift in his body as he stilled, as he tensed in his spot on the other side of the car. Her breathy giggle filled the silence, and she took the initiative. Unbuckling her belt, she slid quickly into the middle seat, pulling the new buckle over her lap before anyone was even able to reprimand her. 

Yeosang started at that, hands coming up as if to stop her, lips parting on a protest. Whatever he was going to say died in his throat when his palm landed on the exposed skin of her thigh. As if of their own accord, his fingers flexed, gripping the supple flesh enough that it indented and dimpled beneath his touch. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, lips parting again, eyes glued to the way the plush of her thighs spilled between the gaps of his fingers. To the way her skin raised with goosebumps at the gentle scrape of the calluses on his hands and her thighs squeezed together once again, emphasizing the plush of them. 

“Fuck,” he finally rumbled out.

Rora giggled, letting her fingers trail up his arm as she leaned closer into his space. “D’you like them, Sangie baby?” she asked. “Like my thighs?”

“So soft,” he breathed out, kneading the skin lightly, fingers teasing between the seam of her legs. He groaned when her thighs parted again, and he gripped the inside of her thigh to pull it closer to him. 

Before the tease on the tip of her tongue could be fully realized, Jongho was parking the car and glancing back at them, brows raised knowingly and eyes shining with amusement as he caught her gaze in the rearview mirror. He held her stare as he turned the car off and unbuckled his seatbelt, only looking away when the click of the buckle seemed to jolt Yeosang into motion. 

With quick, shaky movements, he unbuckled their belts, opened the door, and pulled her from the car. He stuck behind her, practically glued to her back as she led the way up to her apartment. Apparently, he couldn’t wait. Hands gripped her hips and turned her around, pushing her back against the door. Hand holding the back of her head, he dipped down to crush his lips against hers. 

Her surprised noise was muffled by his mouth, one hand coming up to grip her chin, tugging until her mouth opened up enough for his tongue. She melted right there, forgetting that they were in the hallway of her apartment building, that he had her pressed against her door, fingers bunching the fabric of her dress enough that it inched up her ass. 

Yeosang shifted, pressed her harder against the door, one of his strong legs pressing in between her own and the hand holding her head trailing down her back to grip her ass. He groaned into her mouth, tongue sliding against hers as he pulled her closer to his body, sending her grinding down against his thigh. 

The sharp gasp that elicited echoed in the hallway, and her cheeks flushed. “We gotta go inside, Sangie,” she murmured.

He grunted, lips trailing down her jaw to nip at her ear. “Code?” he asked, breath fanning down her neck.

A shiver worked down her spine, a moan building in her chest when she shifted against his thigh. She whispered the numbers out, hooking a finger in the belt loops of his pants, letting the fingers of her other hand untuck the bottom of his shirt to find the warm skin of his belly. 

The hitch of his breathing was covered by the successful beep of her keypad, and he was crowding her, pushing her through the door. They barely paused to take their shoes off at the entrance, stumbling through her apartment, hands frantically gripping at each other's clothes, skin, hair. It was unlike anything she thought would happen with him. The shy man who flirted but could barely meet her eyes as he did. The man whose hands sometimes shook just as bad as hers and whose ears went red when he caught her staring. This same man, in a hurry to get her inside her apartment, to fuck her as quickly as possible. 

It was exhilarating. 

Yeosang detached himself from her and pushed her over the edge of her bed. She lifted her knees to perch them on the little bit of metal overhang of her bed frame. Wicked bruises would decorate her skin for weeks to come, but they would definitely be well worth it. Her dress was flipped up and her panties were pulled down just far enough to expose her to the air, a hand pressing into her back to arch her hips higher in the air. 

“Fuck - yeah, stay like that for me.” His words were frantic, voice low and tense, and she could feel the shaking of his hands intensifying even as they left her skin. She could barely hear his words over the sound of his zipper and the sound of her own heartbeat. There was a clank as his pants fell to the floor and suddenly his cockhead was slipping through her folds, pressing against her clit then sliding back to lodge at her entrance. "Deep breath, angel. Relax." 

Rora inhaled at his words. One, two, and her breath was leaving her lungs entirely. He pressed right in, the stretch nearly too much with no prep. But she could already feel herself dripping, could hear the slick sounds with each flex of his hips forward until they finally rested flat against the roundness of her ass. 

"Fuck," he gritted out. "Sorry, angel. I wish I could take my time with you. But I just...." he trailed off, hips flexing in a way that had her whining. He whined in response, right into her ear as he collapsed over her. A hand slid up to push her hair up, fingers tangling in the roots, hot breath panted out against the back of her neck as he took a moment, just fully seated inside her. Teeth nipped, lips sucked, and she hoped he left marks behind. “Your thighs in this fucking dress,” he groaned, pressed his hips forward, ground his cock deep inside her until she keened

The door opened, slammed closed. She and Yeosang flinched at the sound, both moaning as the movement sent pleasure through them, and a chuckle filled the space. "Really just couldn't wait, huh, Sangie?" Jongho mused. “Never seen you so impatient. Not even stopping to greet poor Teddy.” 

Yeosang huffed, pushed himself up, the hand on her lower back moving to dig into the plush of her hips and ass, strong enough, tight enough, surely, to leave bruises. The hand in her hair tugging her up into a deeper arch, scalp stinging pleasantly and muscles aching with the effort of holding the position, of having his thick fucking cock bullying its way right into her slick cunt. 

His hips retreated, then punched forward strong enough that her knees threatened to slip, but his hold on her was strong, pushing her deeper into the mattress. "O-oh, god," she cried out, hands scrambling for something to grab onto, gripping at her blanket until it wrinkled in her fists. 

"There you go," Jongho said from behind them, his voice almost a condescending coo that sent a shiver down her spine. "Fuck her like she deserves, Sangie." 

Yeosang’s grip in her hair tightened, and he shifted to properly grip her hip, pulling her back to meet each precise thrust. He was slow with it, taking his time now, making her feel each retreat, letting himself enjoy the way she clenched around him, trying to suck him right back in. Her knees were screaming, already bruising, but her blood was singing, skin vibrating with pleasure. “So good,” she panted out, voice breaking on a moan with a particularly sharp thrust.  

She heard shuffling, her bedside drawer opening, a triumphant noise. Then, buzzing filled the air. She felt herself clenching around Yeosang's cock at the mere thought of her vibrator. 

"Turn her over, Yeo," Jongho murmured, climbing onto the bed beside her. Before she could turn her head to look at him, she was being pushed further up then flipped onto her back, legs caught in Yeosang's hands, hips just barely on the bed. Her panties were pulled the rest of the way off her legs, and in one smooth push, he filled her once more. He pulled her closer by her thighs, fingers kneading at the plush flesh like he just couldn’t get enough of it. 

She cried out, back arching, and Jongho caught her wrists to pull them over her head. Her eyes blinked open, and she watched him as he steadied himself before reaching over her, her small black bullet vibrator in his hand. 

Her breath caught. "Fuck!” The word came out as a mere squeak when he pressed the toy over her clit, unable to pull in a full breath. Her head flew back, body twisting like it didn't know whether to arch into the sudden pleasure or away from it. The sensation tore through her so fast, she didn’t even have the time to care about a possible noise complaint from any of her neighbors. It felt too good, was too much. She was almost certain that it was an orgasm, but one was already building up, too quickly for it to have been. 

She writhed beneath the two of them, hot under their ministrations. “Need,” she whined. “Need my dress off. Get it off, please.”

Jongho was quick to release her wrists and leave her vibrator sitting precariously against her, shoving the fabric up and off. His hands were gentle on her skin, trailing over her ribcage and breast, pressing just firmly enough that she arched up into his touch. Lips were on hers before the dress was even fully over her head, stealing what little breath she had. Strong fingers cupped beneath her chin, teeth nibbled her lip, a tongue swept into her mouth. 

The vibrator was pressed more firmly against her once again, and her hands flew down, gripping Yeosang’s wrists as his pace picked up. She moaned into Jongho’s mouth, thighs shaking around Yeosang’s hips so bad that he had to grip them, push them up until she was nearly folded in half. The angle had him sliding deeper, the vibrator stuck between the slick folds of her cunt and the plush of her thighs, shifting with every harsh thrust. 

She would have screamed if it weren’t for Jongho pulling back to slap a hand over her mouth. “Feel good, precious?” he murmured right into her ear. A whine was muffled by his hand, and she nodded, eyes wide, unable to focus on him properly with the pleasure continuing to build. “Gonna cum? Gonna make a mess all over Sangie’s cock, baby?”

Her moans, though muffled, continued to raise in pitch beneath his palm, her own hands sliding up her torso. Squeezing her breasts. Coming to settle on her throat, pressing just enough that her eyes threatened to roll back. 

“So fucking dirty, baby,” Jongho groaned. “Make her cum, Yeosang. I’ve got a little treat in mind for both of you, but I need you to make her cum first.”

She whined when Yeosang stopped moving and removed the vibrator from her, settling her flat against the bed. “What’s your favorite setting, angel?” he asked, voice low and breathless. 

Her hand reached out for the little device, flipping through the settings until she found the one that always left her entirely overwhelmed and seeing stars in mere moments. Yeosang shifted her further up the bed, climbing onto the mattress, thick cock hanging heavy between his strong thighs, still shining with her arousal. 

She moaned at the sight, at the next display of strength as he folded her in half again, lifting her hips right off the bed. His cock slid along the backs of her thighs, smearing the skin with her own juices and his sticky precum. Then, he was sliding home in a single, slow thrust that had him brushing over that glorious spot. 

The cry of his name was muffled by Jongho’s hand, but Yeosang seemed to hear it all the same, an eyebrow lifting and his lips ticking up smugly as each thrust had him hitting that same spot again and again. “Yeah,” he sighed. “Right there.” 

She worked the vibrator down her torso, a slow line down her belly until she could slip her hand between her thighs. Her eyes widened, rolling back, breath catching on a squeal as she pressed it to her clit, whining as she moved it around to find that perfect angle.

“Fuck,” Yeosang gritted out, head tossing back, his neck and chest flushed a glorious pink as her muscles fluttered around his cock. 

Rora gripped Jongho’s hand, sliding it from her mouth to rest heavy on her throat. “Sangie,” she whined. “Sangie, please.”

“Tell me what you need, angel,” he breathed, heavy lidded eyes sliding over her face. 

“Harder,” she murmured. “Fuck me harder. Please.” 

Yeosang cursed, pausing to brace himself better, gripping her thighs tighter. His next thrust into her was harsh but so. fucking. good. The loud gasp it elicited from her was muffled by the grip Jongho took on her throat. It sent her buzzing, floating, soaring. Almost immediately on the brink of cumming. 

“Yesyes, Sangie, please,” she panted out, free hand reaching down to grip at his wrist, reveling in the way the muscles of his forearm flexed beneath her touch, how his hold on her tightened when her nails dug into his skin. She was shaking. From the pleasure. From the sheer strength behind his thrusts. Finding a good grip on the vibrator and holding it where she needed it was proving difficult with just how wet she was, and she whined high in her throat as her climax sat just on the edge and retreated just out of grasp. “Jongie,” she cried, eyes fluttering open to look up at him. “Jongie, please. Can’t.” 

“What’s wrong, precious?” he asked, eyes sharp, dark as they slid over her face, taking in the flush of her cheeks and the tears threatening to wet her lashes. “Need some help? Pathetic little thing, aren’t you?” The words were degrading, but there was an affection in his tone that softened the edge.

Rora pouted up at him, nodding even as her eyes rolled back at Yeosang’s next thrust, at the sound he made when she tightened around him, once more on the edge. The vibrator slipped again, and she wanted to sob. Practically did, breath catching and voice cracking as she begged again. “P-please, Jongie. Need help.”

Jongho groaned, grip tightening on her throat briefly before letting her go. “Open her up, Sang. Make a little room,” he ordered, moving so his knees were on either side of her head, hand already sliding down her belly. “Hold on to me, baby. Keep your hands there.”

She did as he said, hands finding purchase behind each sadly still-clothed thigh, squeezing the softness to find the strong muscles nestled underneath. His hips shifted, the barest hint of a twitch forward, but just enough for her to wish his pants were gone. Imagining him above her, cock heavy between those thick thighs, dangling just above her face had her mouth watering. The wish was interrupted, however, when Jongho swiped the vibrator through her wetness, from where she was still stuffed full of Yeosang to the top of her cunt before circling lightly over her clit. 

“Good girl,” he murmured. Then, he pressed the toy down. Just the slightest bit more pressure, but enough to have her head throwing back and a cry ripping from her throat. “There you go. Just cum for Sangie and you can have that treat, hmm?” 

Muscles flexed beneath her grip, and her hold on him tightened. His hips twitched again. He pressed the vibrator with a little more pressure. 

Her body trembled as her orgasm began to build up again, as it threatened to topple her right off the edge of the earth. “Oh, god, please,” she sobbed. “So fucking close.”

“Yeah?” She couldn’t tell who said it, not when all she could hear was her own moans and the wet slap of Yeosang’s hips against her ass, and deep fucking voices groaning out words she couldn’t quite decipher. 

“Heard you squirted last night. Think you could do that for me?” She was just barely able to register Yeosang’s distinct timbre, and the sound of it had her shuddering.

“Faster. Harder, please,” she begged, hips twitching only to have both men lock her right back into place, at the perfect angle as Yeosang increased his pace, hitting that perfect spot over and over again with deadly aim. Harder, faster, like she asked, and it had her keening. 

“Gonna soak this fucking cock, angel? Can feel you squeezing me, you gonna cum?” He let go of one leg to land a sharp slap to the outside of her thigh, a hot sting that did nothing but push her even closer. 

“Fuckfuckfuck,” her voice raised in pitch as she felt it build up, that exquisite feeling from pulling the knot in her belly tight, had her cunt fluttering. “Please, please.” Her words were met with an increase in vibrations against her clit, and she was screaming, a hand slapping over her mouth as she came. 

Fingers took the place of Yeosang’s cock when she started to gush. “There you fuckin’ go,” Yeosang rasped out, voice breathy and so fucking low, it had her all but spiraling into another orgasm. Jongho kept the vibrator firmly against her poor clit, Yeosang’s strong fingers continually pressing against her sensitive walls to milk her of every drop they could get from her, until she was sobbing and writhing in their holds and there was a puddle under her ass. 

“Good girl,” Jongho murmured, fingers carding through her hair to help her come back down enough to register gentle hands massaging her hips and soft kisses and nips littering her thighs. Her eyes blinked open to find him looking down at her, gaze soft, bordering on concern. “You good?” 

The giggle that fell from her lips couldn’t be helped. Not when her heart gave a little flutter and her tummy swarmed with butterflies “So good,” she confirmed. 

She watched in real time as his expression shifted, going from soft to sharp, from warm to cold. A shiver worked down her body as a smirk came to his face. 

“Wanna know what that treat is?” he asked, still smoothing her hair back from her face as she nodded. His tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip, head tilting down to tease his lips over her own. “How about you smother our Sangie with your pretty cunt and thighs while I fuck you full? How does that sound?”

Rora moaned at the thought. “Please,” she murmured, tipping up to press her lips to his only to be left whining and wanting when he moved away. 

A huff of laughter warmed her face before he turned to his friend. “What about you, Sangie? You okay with it?”

Cheeks still flushed with exertion turned a darker red, and Yeosang swallowed. Lips parted, releasing a breath before he nodded. 

“Words.” Jongho’s tone was firm, eyes even moreso, and it sent her heart racing.

“Y-yeah,” Yeosang stuttered out. “I’m okay with that.”

“Lay down,” Jongho instructed, watching his friend pull his shirt over his head and lay down in the center of the mattress, watching as Yeosang’s fingers fidgeted with the wrinkles of her blankets, clenching and unclenching, cheeks brightening further when his still very hard cock gave a little twitch under both their gazes. 

Jongho, seeming to finally take pity on his friend, turned to her. “Straddle him, baby.”

She did as he said, slinging a leg over Yeosang’s hips to hover above him. He looked up at her, brows furrowed and eyes shining and lips parted. So eager and expectant and soso fucking beautiful, she couldn’t help but lean down to kiss him. 

The kisses were slow, deep, and his breath caught when she sucked on his bottom lip. A whine rumbled in his chest when her fingers tangled in his hair, tugging lightly to angle him so she could trail kisses down his chin and nibble along his jaw. His soft moans filled the air when she sucked a little mark beneath his ear, his whole body stirring, muscles tensing. But his hands stayed rooted in the sheets and his hips against the mattress. Being so patient. So fucking good. 

She kissed him until she was breathless. Until his mouth was shiny with her spit and his eyes were dazed and every sound that fell from him was raspy and whiny and he was shaking with a need that mirrored her own.

Until Jongho sighed and tangled a hand in her hair to yank her upright. “That’s enough, baby.” He tugged her hair again, his other hand coming around to cup her throat, aiding in tipping her head back so she could look at him. Those gorgeous eyes locked with hers, shining as they looked over her wrecked face, lips ticking up with a smirk that threatened to steal what was left of her breath as he leaned closer. 

“It’s time to sit on Sangie’s pretty face.” He paused long enough to look over her face, letting his eyes stray to his friend when he whined at his words, brow quirking up before turning his attention back to her. “Are you going to listen?”

“Yes,” she breathed, all but trembling as he looked over her face again.

“Yes?” His eyes raked over her face, brows arched expectantly.

“M’gonna listen, bear.” The words came out on a whine, struggling under his intense gaze and the feeling of Yeosang tensing, all but shivering beneath her. 

He nodded, letting her go with a satisfied, approving hum. A shiver worked through her at the sound of him pulling his belt through the loops of his jeans, and she gasped when he jerked her arms behind her, looping the still-warm leather around her wrists, tight enough to feel but loose enough that she could escape if she wanted to. “Keep your hands there,” he murmured, helping her shuffle up Yeosang’s body until her thighs caged his head. His hand snuck around her, fingers brushing Yeosang’s hair back with the backs of his fingers, brushing right over his birthmark, making his eyes flutter at the touch. 

“Go on, Yeosangie,” Jongho all but purred. “Make our girl feel good again, hmm?”

Yeosang looked so fucking gorgeous beneath her, cheeks red and hair a mess, eyes looking up at her with so much hunger she couldn’t help the little whimper slipping from her throat. She hovered above him, marveling as his eyes all but crossed to take her in, head lifting off the bed to press a kiss right over her clit. It was a whisper of a touch, but it was enough to have her hips jerking in surprise. 

His eyes came to her face again, shining with amusement and heat, staying locked with her own as he licked up her cunt. She yelped when strong hands gripped her thighs, pulling her flush against Yeosang’s face. He wasted no time, diving right in, brows furrowed and eyes closed like he was savoring her. LIke hse was the tastiest damn thing he had ever had on his tongue. 

Jongho shifted around behind her, the rustling of clothing piquing her interest, the strong grip he took on her restrained wrists even more so. He plastered his bare torso to her back, hard cock nestled against her ass as he nosed along the line of her neck. “You’re gonna take it all like a good girl, right, baby?” he murmured, voice barely more than a rasp in her ear. 

It had her shivering in his hold, body arching with the combination of his voice and a pointed suck to her clit from Yeosang. “Yes, yes, please,” she begged.

He groaned hotly against her neck, teeth digging into the skin there until she gasped. Then, he was pushing her forward, until she could no longer see Yeosang looking up at her and her face and chest met the cool wall. “Stay like that for me,” he said, gripping her wrist harder. 

His cock swiped through her folds, spreading the wetness from her hole down to where Yeosang’s tongue continued to work at her clit and back again. The broad head lodged there for one breathless moment. “Yeosangie, if you need to breathe or get uncomfortable, tap one of us, okay? Two times.”

Yeosang hummed the affirmative against her, and she had to swallow back a whine at the sensation. 

“Can you do it? Just so I know you understand?” Yeosang let go of one of her thighs and must have tapped Jongho, because Jongho hummed. “Good boy, Yeosangie.”

That got a reaction out of him, a full body shiver working through him, hard enough that she felt it. “Such a good boy,” she agreed, just to get another reaction out of him, wishing she had her hands so she could work her fingers through his hair, to caress his gorgeous face. 

He whined right into her cunt, suctioning against her clit until she cried out. 

Finally, Jongho was pressing harder, working the head of his cock into her. So fucking slow. So fucking thick. She groaned as he paused. “You ready, precious?” he asked, hand pressing against the back of her neck, gripping around to the sides to press down against the exact spot that made her brain grow hazy. 

“Yesyesyes,” she chanted breathlessly, eyes nearly rolling back as Yeosang’s tongue laved around her folds, as Jongho’s thick fucking cock stretched her open. 

Then, he was sliding home in one slow, smooth glide. The stretch was a lot, cock so fucking thick. So fucking delicious. She keened when his hips finally met her ass. “So fucking-” her words left her as he ground his hips against her, pressing deeper before starting a slow withdrawl that had her walls clamping down with every inch. 

The hand on her neck slid down her back, nails dragging and calluses catching until it landed on her ass. Jongho gripped one cheek roughly, pulling away to leave a slap that echoed through her apartment. “Fuck,” she choked out. 

His next thrust was harsher, quicker. The withdrawl even moreso. Eventually, he picked up a brutal pace, his hips meeting her ass with sharp slaps that rivaled in volume against the sounds of her wetness and the sounds leaving her throat. Yeosang’s grip on her thighs tightened as Jongho’s thrusts had her sliding further up his face, his nose nudging her clit until he gripped her tighter to pull her back into place. Still, he kept at. Circling her clit, sucking it into his mouth, introducing the faintest edge of teeth just to drive her insane. Entirely unbothered by the lack of air, gasping for breath right against her sopping cunt, pressing her down harder. Like he wanted her to suffocate him. Who was she to deny him? 

Her thighs were tight around his head, trembling with the strain of remaining upright at the face of so much pleasure. 

She yelped as Jongho yanked her off the wall, tugging her back by her wrists, right into his chest. Hand coming to her throat, squeezing until her eyes rolled back, his other hand trailing down her belly to spread her further open for his cock and Yeosang’s greedy tongue. His fingers pressed briefly against her clit, rubbing teasing little circles there even as Yeosang kept at it. The next second, those fingers were shoved into her mouth. 

Moaning, she licked her arousal and Yeosang’s saliva off them, loving the way he pushed the digits further into her mouth, pressing down on her tongue. Her hips were starting to move, grinding in slow circles, unable to figure out whether she should push back into Jongho’s thrusts or grind down into Yeosang’s eager mouth. 

The fingers in her mouth were yanked away, a wet slap meeting her cheek, not hard but enough to sting with shame. “Be fucking still,” Jongho growled. “You take what we give you or you get nothing.”

She whined but stilled, letting them work her as they pleased. 

“Good fucking girl,” Jongho grunted, pushing his fingers back into her mouth, hips picking up their pace once more. 

Yeosang’s hand left her leg for a moment, and Jongho was hauling her further up on her knees, pushing her into the wall again. A hand held the back of her neck, and she clamped down on his cock at the move, at the feeling of Yeosang’s hot panting against her wetness. 

He was babbling beneath her, and she wished she could see his face. Wished she could see how absolutely fucked out he looked. “Need you to come on my face,” he whined, thumb finding home on her clit, rubbing in maddening circles and figure eights. “Please, please, please, angel. Need you to come so bad. Soak my fucking face. Soak Jongie’s cock, baby. Please.”

The hand on her neck slid up to tangle in her hair, pulling until her back arched. The angle had Jongho’s cock sliding impossibly deeper, hitting a spot that had her practically screaming. A hand covered her mouth, forcing her to breath through her nose, muffling her sounds.

“So fucking loud, baby. Like you want all your neighbors to hear.”

Her eyes nearly rolled back in her skull when he picked up his pace, when Yeosang’s mouth found her clit again, despite her being held above him. Whines and whimpers, pleas for her to cum muffled into her cunt, fingers still going at her clit. 

Jongho’s lips were at her neck, teeth nibbling up until his hot breath brushed her ear. “Sangie’s begging so pretty for you to come, baby. Don’t you think you should reward him? Gonna come for us, precious?” 

Her response was muffled by his hand, but he seemed to understand the enthusiastic sound. He chuckled low in his throat, the sound of it sending a shiver down her spine. “Yeah, you are. C’mon, baby. Come like a good little slut,” he said, voice so silky she moaned into his hand.

That was all it took, apparently. A suggestion, a degradation wrapped in praise, the low rumble of a voice, and she was on the edge. Whining into the sweat-slicked palm over her mouth, teeth digging into the flesh as the pressure in her belly built up and up. Jongho grunted, fingers gripping her hair tighter, hips pushing harder, faster in retaliation. 

Yeosang’s efforts doubled, sucking and rubbing her clit in tandem to Jongho’s cock bullying into her cunt. The pleasure, the sheer stretch, the wet sounds bouncing off the walls had her feeling hot. Too hot. Too close. So fucking close. It was the brush of Yeosang’s teeth, a particularly sharp, stuttered thrust from Jongho that had her falling apart. Shaking and screaming as Jongho chased his own orgasm, sobbing out with each stuttered thrust, trembling when he finally spilled into her, each pulse inside her, each continued suckle from Yeosang’s lips, making her sensitive walls clench down around him. 

She was still recovering, ears ringing and breathing erratic, when Jongho pulled out, laughing affectionately at her little whimper, and shuffled her lax body around to lay her down on the bed. Hands smoothed over her skin, steady fingers working the belt from her wrists, rubbing gentle circles into the no doubt red skin. 

There was shuffling, a murmured exchange, and a body was over her. A whimpered “Angel?” had her fluttering her eyes open. Yeosang hovered above her, face flushed and eyes blown. He was trembling, hips twitching, neglected cock hanging heavy and dark red between his strong thighs. 

“Poor Yeosangie. Do you still need to come, baby?” she cooed, running a hand down his sweat-slicked torso. 

His voice broke on a whine when her hand encircled his cock, back arching when she gave a slow stroke from base to tip. “Fuck, please,” he begged, voice a mere thread of sound, cracking like he might start crying if she made him wait any longer. “Please. Need to come. Hurts.”

“Poor thing,” she murmured, pulling him down for a kiss, working her hand along him in slow strokes that had him shaking. “Been so good and patient this whole time. D’you wanna use my thighs, baby?” 

He all but sobbed at the suggestion, lips trembling against her own.

A kiss was pressed to his mouth, trailing along his cheek, down his jaw. “There’s lube in the drawer. You wanna get it for me, baby? Get your pretty cock nice and ready to fuck my thighs?”

Yeosang was leaning over and fumbling for her bedside drawer before she had even finished her words. She giggled as he came back into position above her, nearly dropping the bottle as he tried to pop it open. “Calm down, Sangie,” she said, reaching to rub her thumb up the line of his jaw. “Just take a breath for me.”

His eyes fluttered closed at her touch, his chest swelling with an inhale at her words. He exhaled slowly, grip loosening on the bottle of lube and trembling just a little less.

“There you go, good boy,” she murmured, taking the bottle from his hand and opening it up herself. She let it dribble right over his cock, catching the extra with her hand before slicking him up. 

The whine that ripped from his chest was delicious, the shiver that raked his body even more so. “Fuck,” he breathed, gasping and gripping her skin so tightly she was sure there would be bruises.

“C’mon, baby,” she said, tugging him closer by his cock, lifting her legs to incase him in the warmth of her legs. “Use my thighs to get off.”

Yeosang was gone before her hand even had the time to abandon his cock, gripping her thighs tight as he fucked between them. Muffled groans and soft pants blessed her ears, and she watched Yeosang push in. The wet, red head peeking from between her thighs, with each rut of his hips, hands kneading and squeezing her flesh until spurts of warmth covered them. He was a vision between her legs, gorgeous muscles shifting beneath sweat-slicked skin with each thrust of his hips. When he came, his head fell back, hair fluffing out about his head, strands sticking to his flushed face as he moaned, voice cracking as his release covered the skin of her thighs. 

Rora pulled him over her as he came down, running her fingers through his hair and murmuring little affirmations in his ear as he came down. His body had just stopped shaking, relaxing over her own like a living, breathing weighted blanket when Jongho walked out of the bathroom, looking warm and freshly showered, dressed in a pair of sweats and without a shirt. He smiled when he noticed her looking - so open and relaxed and so fucking beautiful in her space - running a hand through his still-damp hair as he walked closer. 

“Drew a bath for you and Sangie,” he announced softly, pushing her hair back from her face then smoothing Yeosang’s in a slow stroke. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Running her hand down Yeosang’s back, Rora hummed. “Ready whenever you are, Sangie,” she murmured. “Though, I’m not sure I’ll be able to walk all the way there on my own.”

Jongho laughed, pretty gummy smile on full display. “Need me to carry you again, precious?”

She pouted, but nodded nonetheless, wrapping her arms around Yeosang’s shoulders as he shifted against her. 

“It’s good Jongho is here,” he said, voice a mere croak. “I don’t think I can walk, either.”

There was silence, and then a yelp as Yeosang was dragged off her and into the air. “I’m still naked, fucker,” he exclaimed. 

Jongho huffed a laugh, settling his friend over his shoulders. “Your tongue literally touched my cock less than five minutes ago. I think we’re past a little naked manhandling.”

Yeosang’s face went red. “Shut up,” he whined, smacking Jongho on the back of the head lightly. 

Jongho simply laughed and walked his friend to the bathroom, and she couldn’t help but giggle as they bickered even for the short walk. Despite the warmth in her chest, she started to shiver, the air of the room finally settling on her sweaty skin. Luckily, Jongho was back quickly, scooping her up from the bed and cradling her close to him. 

The bathroom was dim when he stepped through the door, the overhead light off in favor of a flickering candle and the warm glow of the plug-in diffuser. Vanilla and jasmine and amber filled the air, and she wanted to melt. She did melt, even, right into Yeosang’s arms when Jongho lowered her into the slightly-too-warm water of the bath. Their touches on her skin rivaling the softness of the bubbles filling the tub. 

She watched Jongho knelt on the floor beside the tub, his fingers dipping into the water, gliding over her skin until she shivered and relaxed further into Yeosang’s hold. 

“How are you?” he asked lightly. 

“Hmm?” Rora tilted her head back against Yeosang’s shoulder, letting her cheek brush against his own before turning her head to look at Jongho directly, her brows furrowing. “How am I?”

“I’m just checking in, baby,” he said, the corner of his lips tilting up teasingly. “It’s part of that aftercare you were so curious about last night.”

Her cheek went hot and she pouted. “I was not curious about it,” she whined. “I just said it was unexpected.”

He hummed, eyes still twinkling at her. “Whatever you say, precious,” he said, grabbing a washcloth and lathering it up with her body wash. “I do need you to answer me, though. How are you? Was everything okay?”

The grin that came to her face was brimming with the affection building rapidly in her chest. “Yes, bear,” she murmured, relaxing into the way he ran the cloth over her body. “Everything was okay. Better than, even.”

“Yeah?” 

“Promise, bear.” she reached out to him, wet fingers trailing lightly over the curve of his jaw. “Wouldn’t have changed a single thing.”

He turned his head, catching the tips of her fingers with a little nip of teeth, following it up with a gentle kiss that had her giggling.

“What about you, Yeosnagie?”

Yeosang stirred beneath her, a startled noise coming from his throat, like he hadn’t expected Jongho to check on him too. “Me?” he asked, arms tightening around her. 

Jongho’s laugh in response was soft, so full of affection and years of love for his friend. “Yes, you,” he said, running the cloth up Yeosang’s arm and over his shoulder, making him shiver at the touch. “That was a new experience for us, and I want to make sure there weren’t any boundaries crossed in the heat of the moment. Just need to know you aren’t uncomfortable.”

“I’m fine,” Yeosang answered. A little too quickly, if Jongho’s lifted brow was any indication. “I am. I’m okay, Jong.”

“Sure you’re not uncomfortable about something and just being nice about it?”

“When was the last time I did that for you?” Yeosang shot back, making her and Jongho laugh.

“Good point.”

“It was okay. I…” he trailed off for a moment, shifting behind her. She glanced back to see him looking down, eyes refusing to look at either of them, teeth worrying his lower lip. “I liked everything that happened.”

xiii: sweet as honey

Rora was just finishing up an email when the bell over the cafe door rang out, the sound reaching her even through the light chatter of the group a few tables away and the sound of the espresso machine. She looked up, hands settling lightly on her keyboard, in time to watch Jongho step inside, face passive and hair fluttering about his features. Those pretty, round eyes bounced around until they finally found her. 

She watched in amazement as his features softened, eyes going warm and lips ticking up into a smile that made her heart flutter. She stood to meet him as he came closer, unable to stop the giddy grin from making its way onto her face. Not when her tummy felt so warm and her brain was buzzing pleasantly at the mere sight of him. Before he could say anything, her arms were thrown around his neck. A choked off sound came from his throat, but he reciprocated her embrace and ducked down so she wouldn’t have to tiptoe as much. 

“Miss me or something?” The joke couldn’t mask the breathless surprise in his tone.

“Happy to see you.” She whispered it, like the earnestness of her statement would be void if she spoke any louder. She nuzzled into the warmth of his skin, pressing a kiss right over his pulse point, surprised to feel it pounding beneath her lips. 

“I’m happy to see you, too, precious,” he said, voice a low murmur in her ear, sending a pleasant flutter through her belly. His lips brushed over her hair, pressed into the skin of her forehead, then he was pulling away to smile down at her. “Ready to go?”

Rora nodded happily, and they took the few steps to the table she had been occupying the whole day. Jongho helped her pack up her things, stealing a drink from whatever delicious concoction Yunho had slid over to her not too long ago. His brows raised almost comically, and he turned to glance at the counter over his shoulder. “Yunho, what drink is this?” he called out. 

Yunho was just finishing up an order, saying a soft farewell to the customer as he handed the bag over. His smile changed when he looked at them, the bright customer service grin softening, eyes warming. “Just something we’ve been working on,” he said, wiping down the counter with a coffee stained cloth. “Like it?”

“It’s good,” he said. 

Yunho’s smile brightened more, face practically glowing with pride when he looked at her for confirmation and she nodded her agreement. “Maybe it’ll go on the menu soon,” he said. 

Jongho hummed, took another drink before turning back to her, eyes smiling at her as he watched her gather her stuff. She felt almost shy under his gaze, tummy twisting and face pink, and it didn’t make sense, really. Not after everything that had happened in the past months. They had kissed, cuddled. Hell, the man had even been inside of her. Had seen her cry more than once, had visited her when she was on her period. What the hell could she have to feel shy about now? But logic didn’t beat the feeling, and she found herself huddling into his arms to hide in his chest. 

His laughter vibrated through her, making her blush harder even as she relaxed against him. “You going shy on me again, baby?” he asked, hand smoothing over the back of her head. 

“Shut up,” she whined. “Can’t help it.”

He let her huddle against him as long as she needed, arms around her waist and head ducked to hook his chin over her shoulder. He tensed, she startled. Two other pairs of arms wrapped around them, and she giggled over Jongho’s grumbling. A pair of lips press lightly against her hair, a low voice mumbling, “See you later, doll.” 

Pulling herself out of hiding, she looked up at the three of them. Pressed a kiss to Mingi’s cheek, then to Yunho’s chin. 

“See you later, too, honey,” Yunho said, lips brushing over her cheekbone. 

“Hmm?” Her brows furrowed so deeply she could feel the wrinkle forming between them.

He laughed at her confusion–a soft, warm sound–eyes twinkling with obvious affection. “Mingi mentioned that you might go home with him later and everyone wanted to turn it into a sleepover,” he said, thumb rubbing the furrow from her brows. “They all miss you, honey.”

If that didn’t spread warmth through her whole body, then nothing could. 

♡♡♡

It didn’t take long for them to gather her things from her apartment and set everything up for Teddy. His automatic feeder and water fountain were good to go, his litter box clean, and his little self was curled up in the middle of her bed–exhausted from chasing after his toys and playing with Jongho while she was gathering her things and cleaning up–looking so cute she almost didn’t want to leave again. But the warmth of Jongho’s hand around her own and the insistent tilt of his brows lured her right back out of that line of thought and out the door.

Everyone except for Yunho and Mingi was already there when she and Jongho walked through the apartment door. Wooyoung greeted her when she slipped off her shoes, ushering her inside like it was his place and gathering her into his arms like he needed to hold her more than anything else in that moment. 

“Hi, Youngie,” she said, giggling when he shook his head where it was buried in her chest, hair tickling her chin. 

He was being pulled away, whole face crumpled up with the force of his smile despite the hands on his shoulders shoving him to the side. Sannie was there, lips pouted but eyes sparkling. And those devastating dimples, a flash of pretty teeth when she cupped his cheeks. “Hi, Sannie,” she murmured, pressing up to kiss his chin. 

A glance over his broad shoulders found Seonghwa and Hongjoong lounging together on the sofa, slouched down next to each other, shoulders and thighs brushing, gazing fondly at the interaction. They waved at her when they caught her gaze, and she couldn’t help but blush, still feeling that inexplicable shyness from earlier. She wanted to squeeze between them and snuggle right in. But she also wanted to hide away. Which must have been evident, by the amusement she found on both their faces. 

Jongho ushered her further into the space, hand on her lower back as he guided her over to the sofa. She settled right in, right between Hongjoong and Jongho, and let herself enjoy their bantering. It was a new space, a different apartment. But it felt the same as the other one, and she was convinced that these men could and would take any space and make it their own when together. 

“Hey,” Hongjoong murmured, hand settling lightly on her thigh. His nails were freshly painted a shiny black, fingers decorated with a few rings that brought attention to just how pretty and slender they were. 

“Hey,” she said back, relaxing back into the sofa cushions, shoulder brushing against his arm. His bare arm. Before she could stop herself, her eyes caught on the exposed skin, on the black ink curling around the soft bulge of his bicep and around his shoulder to disappear beneath the frayed black fabric of his sleeveless shirt. 

His hand flexed on her leg, and she looked away, cheeks red. Breath catching when he leaned closer, nosing at her ear. 

“You can stare, love. I don’t mind.”

A strangled noise came from her, and the chuckle that pulled from him was low, stirring heat both in her cheeks and low in her belly. 

Shuffling from the hallway alerted her to a new presence, and she glanced up to find Yeosang stepping into the living room, looking cozy in a pair of sweats and a large plaid button-up. A hand was under his shirt, flashing the sharp line of his hip, the smooth plane of his belly. Her fingers itched to feel the soft skin, tingling with the memory of it. 

“Hi, Sangie,” she said, unable to keep the smile from growing on her face when he flushed pink and yanked his hand down, the shirt falling back into place. 

“Hey, angel,” he said. Despite the smooth way the words came from his mouth, he stood there, just blinking at her. Face blank save for the flush of his cheeks and wide eyes. It was a moment of flustered silence before he finally continued walking into the room. Coming to settle on the floor in front of her, wedging himself between her legs and letting his head rest on her leg. 

Her fingers found his hair, still soft to the touch even after being bleached and dyed, and her heart leapt at the happy sound that came from his chest. 

“How are you, Sangie baby?” she asked, letting her nails drag lightly against his scalp. 

“Mmm,” he hummed, visibly relaxing against her. “Better now.”

Her responding giggle was breathy. “Were you bad before?”

His shoulders tensed for a moment before they shook with low laughter. “No,” he said. “But it’s always better when you’re here.”

Teasingly, she tugged a lock of his hair, a shiver working through her when he stifled a groan. “Smooth talker,” she said, unable to keep the fondness from sneaking into her voice as she leaned back, fingers unfortunately slipping from his hair. She relaxed back into the sofa, into the warmth of the men on either side of her, as the others laughed around them.

♡♡♡

Rora sighed as she stepped into the kitchen. The apartment was as open planned as the other one, but it was just enough space away from the chaos of the living room and the six men that she felt like she could finally have a moment to breathe. 

Not that she necessarily felt like she needed any significant time away or anything. But they were a lot to handle. Seven fully grown adults in an apartment, even if that apartment is meant to house four or more people, was way too much. Certainly, it was more people than she was usually used to. She had only been around them all as a group the one time. Otherwise, so far, she was with them in smaller groups or one-on-one. The energy levels were much easier to manage in those situations. 

Now, it was overwhelming, to say the least. Especially with everything that had just happened, and a few of them were still absent.

Footsteps, the rustling of fabric–barely heard over the chatter and laughter still flowing steadily from the living room–brought her out of her thoughts. A glance over her shoulder saw Seonghwa coming in. His hands were deep in his pockets, shoulders hunched the slightest, large shirt threatening to slip to show more skin. 

“Heard you had a rough couple of days, bun.” Seonghwa said, leaning against the counter beside her. She could feel his gaze on her. Could feel it as he watched her grab a glass from above the sink. As she turned on the faucet. Watched her start to fill the glass. Her heart was fluttering the whole while, and it all but jumped into her throat when he reached around her to turn the water off before the liquid could spill over the lip of the glass. It happened, anyway, her hand trembling before she could attempt to get a handle on it, brain too busy focusing on the way he pressed close to her, the smell of his perfume wafting up–subtle but enough to leave her feeling like a puddle of goo. Warm and sweet with an undercurrent of spice.

He let her be silent, eyes still on her as she took a sip of her water, pointedly ignoring the way his gaze followed the drops of water trailing over her wrist. Burning as she shifted under his attention. A shiver threatened to work down her spine, muscles locking to fend it off. But he seemed to catch it, the corners of his lips tipping up into the ghost of a smirk. 

“Something like that,” she finally murmured. 

He hummed. “You don’t have to tell me about it. But let me know if there’s anything I can do to help you feel better.”

She smiled, ignoring the jump in her heartrate. “Letting me crash boys night helped a lot, already.”

“Boys night,” Seonghwa scoffed, pretty eyes rolling before coming back to her face. Intense, searching, turning incredibly fond when his hand found the one she left on the counter to steady herself. “Call it whatever you want, but we’re all glad to have you here. You aren’t crashing anything, bunny. We only came over because we hope you would be staying the night.”

She startled when someone slipped in behind her, their chest to her back as they bent down to nuzzle her ear. “Hwa’s right, love.”

A shiver worked down her spine as Hongjoong’s breath warmed her neck, his hands hovered over her hips for a moment before finally latching on. He pulled her closer into his body, and she relaxed into his warmth, into his hidden strength. And then the words were tumbling forth before she could stop them. “It feels a lot like life has decided to start crashing in again. Between Jongho being upset about finding out what happened before I came home with Youngie and Sannie–” she paused to place a hand over Hongjoong’s when he huffed out something about teaching him a lesson again, reaching out to tug on Seonghwa’s sleeve before he could take it upon himself to go find their youngest friend. “It’s okay. We’ve talked it out. Didn’t you all talk about this last night? You already know it’s been figured out.”

She giggled when they both grumbled. Squealed when they worked together to lift her up onto the counter and crowded her space, standing on either side of her, a hand on each of her thighs. 

“Sorry, pretty,” Seonghwa murmured, leaning in to press a kiss to her cheek. “Keep going.”

She flushed under both their gazes and swallowed, ignoring the heat prickling beneath her eyelids with each blink. “The next day, I heard those women joking about that night, about how they left me there and what they thought might have happened after they left. Saying it would be good for me, that I needed to get laid so I’d be less bitchy and stuck up. Which are all things I’ve heard before and aren’t even what hurt the most. It’s mostly that they just… They literally left the premises. They didn’t just leave me at the door to go have their own fun. They left entirely. And that just made me so angry and–” 

She took a breath, cursing the fact that her eyes were prickling with tears, making her lashes stick together. The breath stuck in her throat when warm hands slid up her thighs. “I confronted them about it. Panicked a bit after and spilled coffee all over myself. That’s why Mingi couldn’t make it over for Jongho’s talk. He wanted to take me home and make sure I was okay and – and I didn’t wanna be alone after that.” She shook her head lightly, brushed her fingers through her hair. “Everything’s better now, but I think I’m still trying to process it. Especially with how well everything’s been going lately. Just felt like waking up from a dream only to step right into a nightmare.” 

“Thank you for telling us,” Hongjoong murmured, brushing her cheek with the backs of his fingers. 

Silence settled over them for a moment, and she let herself lean into them. Her nose pressed into Hongjoong’s neck, enjoying the warmth coming from his skin as she breathed him in. He smelled different. Not bad by any means. In fact, the smell alone had her tummy swooping and heat rising to her face. Citrus-y. Woody. Just the perfect amount of musk and spice. 

“Did you get a new cologne?” she asked, hoping neither of them heard the way her voice dipped halfway through the question. 

His affirmative hum came right from his chest. “Like it?” he asked, letting his fingers slide up the length of her arm. “I made it.”

She was melting against him, soaking in the smell and the warmth and the vibrations of his low chuckle. “Smells so fucking good,” she murmured, groaning lightly when strong arms came around her waist to give her a light squeeze. 

The moment was interrupted by the sound of the front door opening, Hongjoong’s shoulders tensing and her heart jumping in her chest so hard she gasped audibly. Seonghwa’s wide-eyed, frozen stare is what tipped her over into laughter, doubling over with her giggles until she had to hold onto their shoulders to not fall off the counter. 

“There was a party and you didn’t invite me?” Mingi’s low voice joked, pushing his way between his two oldest friends to wrap her into a hug. 

“This is literally your own home,” she said, voice still hitching with leftover laughter even as she burrowed into his warmth.

“Double betrayal,” he whined, burying his face in her hair. 

She hummed, cupping the back of his head, letting her nails drag lightly over his scalp. 

“Something other than food was cooking in here, and I interrupted,” Mingi stated, pulling back from her and looking at his two friends. Matter-of-fact and not expecting any kind of affirmation or denial, but he laughed when he took in the poorly disguised disgruntled expression on Hongjoong’s face and Seonghwa’s affectionate exasperation. “I’ll leave you to it, but Rora is sleeping with me tonight. No arguments.”

“No fair!” Wooyoung cried, pouting as he walked by to fill his glass with water. “You had her all to yourself last night.”

Resounding agreement came from the others, and she could feel her face burning even as she giggled at their antics. 

“Mingi’s the one that invited me, Youngie,” she said. “It’s only fair that I sleep with him, no?”

Wooyoung only grumbled into his glass, gulping down his water before pouting again, shiny lips making it all the more devastating. “Can I sleep with you too, Mangi?” His voice was all syrupy sugar as he asked, all but batting his lashes at his taller friend.

Mingi laughed, something low and rumbling and incredibly fond. “You were gonna end up with me or Sangie, anyway,” he said. “You’re more than welcome to join us. Assuming Rora is okay with it, too?”

Both of them looked at her. One amused, the other pleading. Wooyoung looked every inch of a sad kitty, eyes big and lips pouted (still), and she couldn’t help the way she melted for it. The way she reached out for him, her fingers curling around his jaw to pull him closer to press a kiss to those pretty, plush lips. 

“Sure, Youngie,” she said, bumping her nose against his own. 

Her gaze slid from Wooyoung to the man still standing beside him, cheeks flushing at what she saw there, the way the corner of his mouth ticked up before turning to leave the kitchen. With a happy little noise, Wooyoung joined his tall friend, bumping against him just to get an annoyed grumble to come from his chest. 

Once again, she was left alone with Seonghwa and Hongjoong. Her eyes darted between the two of them, taking in the shared glance, the twin head nods. She froze when they turned back to her as one, pinning her in place. 

“What do you say, bunny? Any way we could help you feel better?” Seonghwa asked, head tilting, hand coming up to cup the side of her face, thumb drifting down the slope of her jaw. 

“Don’t wanna think anymore.” The words were quiet, barely a breath in the stillness of the kitchen. Like the words were scared of being spoken into existence. Not out of shame. Never out of shame. But out of the fear of the sheer intensity the words held beneath them. The way they left her breathless and made her heart lunge in her chest and her fingers grip the bottom of her shirt to keep them from trembling more than they already were. 

“How could we help you do that, love?” Hongjoong’s voice was as low as hers, whispered into the air not like a secret but like a promise. Sincere and warm even as his eyes darkened. 

She inhaled sharply, hands rubbing down her thighs. Then, she straightened. “If you’re comfortable with it,” she started. “Make my decisions for me tonight?”

It was quiet for a moment, interrupted only by the murmur of voices drifting in from the living room. “That’s a lot of control you’re handing over, bunny,” Seonghwa said, expression soft. Voice even softer. “That’s essentially a power exchange. Do you trust us with that?” 

“I trust that you won't do anything to hurt me in this setting,” she replied. 

“Have you done anything like this before?” he asked. 

“Never with a romantic partner, but I had a friend that would do it sometimes. Just little things like what I would eat or do that day. But never, like, fully.” She tried not to fidget as she explained. 

“Are you sure you want to do this with us, bunny? It might sound like something that’ll help but it could end up adding to your emotional load.”

“I trust you,” she said. “And I trust the others.”

Hongjoong’s hand fell to her thigh, and she turned to him. His brows were furrowed and his teeth were digging into his lower lip. But he didn’t look opposed to the idea. Concerned, perhaps. But not like he was about to shut the idea down. 

“I know we discussed safe words before, but this is different,” Hongjoong said. “This is… this is an exchange. A scene, even. Do you want a new word for this?”

“Or a gesture?” Seonghwa piped in to add. “Joongie called this a scene, and that’s exactly what this is. And you could fall into an altered headspace where you could possibly not be able to verbalize what you need. A gesture might be helpful in that case.”

“A tug?” she suggested. “One for attention, two for a slow down, three for a full stop?”

“Can you show us, love? So that there’s less chance of shying away from doing it when needed later?”

She was reaching for the cuff of Hwa’s sleeve before Hongjoong had even finished talking, gripping it between her fingers, eyes on Hongjoong’s face. 

“Attention? Slow? Stop?” 

She tugged with each prompt, one, then two, then three times, heart fluttering in her throat as his lips tipped up and his eyes curved. 

“Good job, bunny,” Seonghwa praised, hand coming to rest atop her head, finger threading through her hair. 

The happy noise that came from her throat was unable to be stopped, and left her face hot. But she couldn't feel too embarrassed when they immediately started cooing at her. 

“We’ll have to talk to the others about this,” Seonghwa said. “Do you want them to be a part of it too? Either as voyeurs, for a lack of a better word, or as active participants?”

“I want them there, of course. But only if they’re comfortable with it too.” She couldn’t help the frown taking over her face. “I don’t want anyone to feel uncomfortable over something I’m doing.”

Seonghwa crowded closer, pulling her face into his chest with a low coo. “I doubt anyone is going to be uncomfortable, bun,” he murmured, pressing little kisses to her temple. “I’ll go talk to them now, okay?”

Before she could reply, his warmth was gone and she was pouting.

“Do you mind going over a few more things with me?” Hongjoong asked, stepping closer.

“Is there anything you don’t want us doing for you?” he asked. 

Her teeth found her bottom lip as she took a moment. “I’m not…sure,” she said. “Aside from, like, bathroom stuff, I can’t think of anything.”

Hongjoong huffed out a laugh, thumb pressing circles into her thigh. “You can go to the bathroom yourself, noted.”

She giggled, letting her head fall to his shoulder. 

“How about we prompt things?” he suggested. “Like, if you look sleepy we can ask if you’re ready for bed? Or giving some choices if we’re ordering food?”

“I like that,” she said, turning her head to bury her nose into the crook of his neck. That cologne washed over her again. 

“Do you want to call us anything while this happens? Anything you want us to call you?” 

“Just the usual nicknames, I think. Do you have any?” 

He hummed, chin rubbing against her hair. “Maybe,” he murmured. “But only for specific sexual situations and only sometimes.”

“Oh?” Intrigue colored her voice, and there was no way he couldn’t hear it. 

He laughed, low and rumbling. “And they would require another conversation when you aren’t overwhelmed, pretty. We probably shouldn’t even be having this conversation right now.”

“I’m actually quite clear-headed right now,” she murmured, unable to resist the urge to nip the warm skin of his neck in retaliation. “Yesterday would have certainly been a bad time for it, though.”

Another hum vibrated his chest, his grip tightening on her leg when she nipped again. 

“We’re almost done talking, then we can go find something for this apparent fixation you have with biting me.” 

She giggled, melting into him when his hand moved to massage at her hip, fingers pressing firmly into her lower back. 

“When your friend would help you in the past, did you ever go into subspace or anything similar? Any dissociation or floaty feelings or something along those lines?”

Rora paused. “I felt warm and safe when she would help, but I was always aware. I do tend to get lost in thought or dissociate sometimes, though.” 

“Have you ever gone into subspace?”

“I don’t think so?” she said. “I can get a little out of it after sex sometimes, but nothing like what people describe subspace as. Though–” She stopped herself.

“C’mon, baby,” Hongjoong murmured, fingers kneading the back of her neck. “We need to talk about this to keep everyone safe, hmm?”

“The closest I can think of getting to anything like that is when Sannie, Wooyoungie, and Yunho were going over limits with me. I was having trouble staying focused and had to have something to ground me. But I could have also just been super horny that day, so I don’t really know.” 

Hongjoong laughed, fingers pushing up into her hair. “Is that something you would like to happen? Or would you want us to stop if you seem to be dissociating too much?” 

“I would like it to happen, if it does. And if I seem to be panicking or something and don’t stop it, you or Hwa can make that decision for me.”

“What about a drop? Has that happened?”

“Yes,” she admitted around the tightness in her throat. 

“Do you want to tell me the circumstances around it?” he prompted gently. 

“My ex was always a little…mean with his words when we would have sex. And I’m fine with a little degradation once in a while. But he was always–” she swallowed, fingers curling into the fabric of Hongjoong’s shirt. “One time he was more mean than usual, and he didn’t give me any aftercare after. Also not unusual, but he said a lot of things that just hurt that night and not a single bit of praise for cushioning before, during, or after. And then I had to clean myself up after he just left. I was out of it for days after, and it was awful, Joongie. I didn’t like it one bit.”

He hushed her gently, pulling her closer to wrap himself around her–a cocoon of warmth and protection. “I’m so sorry that happened, love,” he murmured, pressing kisses into her hair. “Thank you for sharing and for trusting me with this.”

She sniffled. “My friend helped me through it,” she said. 

“I’m glad she was there for you,” he said. 

“Me too,” she said through a watery laugh. 

An affronted noise had her pulling back from Hongjoong. There Seonghwa stood, brows furrowed and jaw set, arms across his chest. “Now why is my bunny crying?”

Warmth flooded her immediately. “Your bunny?” she asked. 

“Yes, my bunny. And no one should be making you cry. Not even Hongjoongie.”

“Tears aren’t always a bad thing,” she joked, staring up at Hwa with big eyes. “Sometimes they’re actually quite fun.”

Hongjoong groaned, but laughed nonetheless. “Now that definitely is a conversation for another time,” he said, taking a step back. 

The whine that bubbled up from her throat at the move sounded more than pathetic, and her cheeks burned with the blush suddenly taking residence there. 

“C’mon, bunny,” Seonghwa said, hands coming to grip either side of her waist. “The others know what’s going on and they’re okay with it. We gotta go figure out what we’re gonna eat now.”

She lets him help her down from the counter, holding both him and Hongjoong by the arm when her legs give up, sending her staggering forward. 

“Should have moved you for that talk,” Seonghwa said with a little frown. “Lets go sit on the couch and we can rub your legs a little.”

So, they did. She sat between the two oldest friends, her focus on the way Seonghwa’s hands kneaded up and down her legs, biting back sighs and groans as the knots in her muscles were worked out. Chatter continued, mild arguments and bickering breaking out over the best place to get food until finally they settled on a Chinese takeout place with a decently large menu. As agreed upon, Seonghwa and Hongjoong asked her to choose between a few different things but ultimately ordered for her. 

It was freeing, to say the least. One less thing she had to worry about. Letting them take that from her hands. When Hwa was satisfied with how jelly her legs were, she pulled his sleeve once, and asked very quietly if she could sit on the floor. Feeling very much like the height change might heighten the way the current dynamic changes were making her feel. 

She was right. As soon as she was on the floor, head propped on the cushion between Hongjoong and Seonghwa’s thighs, she felt more than content. Someone brought her a soft blanket, tucking it around her legs. Wooyoung and Yeosang even sat with her, huddled in their own blankets and whispering (sometimes not quite whispering, in Wooyoung’s case) snarky little jokes in response to the others’ conversations to keep her engaged and giggling, the three of them leaned against the eldest two’s legs

Fingers were in her hair, nails a gentle scratch against her scalp and the steady drone of laughter and conversation was a haze around her. She fell into it. Into the warmth they so generously give. Into the freedom and safety Hongjoong and Seonghwa so kindly offered, the control they took when she offered it. Into the happy little bubble she found herself in ever since meeting these men. 

Floaty. She was floating in the clouds, and she let herself stay there. Not too high, though, letting the soft touches keep her grounded. The passing pats on the head or kisses to her hair as they moved around. The wet press of lips to any exposed skin on her right side and the occasional bite of teeth (exclusively Wooyoung). The warm hand wrapped around her leg, fingers tapping and drawing invisible messages on her skin through the layers of blanket and clothing (Yeosang). She didn’t even have to feed herself, the two taking it upon themselves to take turns feeding her the food that was ordered for her. Watching quietly–enjoying the light tug of Hongjoong’s fingers pulling through her hair–as Wooyoung blew on a bite of food for her, testing the temperature on his lip before offering the spoon, hand beneath her chin. Yeosang following it up with a bite of rice, face absolutely radiant as she chewed, his teeth on display and crescented eyes glistening in the dim lighting of the living room. 

When everyone had finished eating, Seonghwa was leaning down to get her attention. “Do you wanna shower, bunny?”

She was slow in focusing on him, blinking slowly at him. His face was close, eyes bright and smile soft and doing absolutely nothing to clear the fluff in her brain. “Shower?” she asked.

“Mhm,” he said, hands coming to her face, long fingers caressing her cheeks and tickling beneath her chin until she giggled. “Do you want to?”

“With Hwa?”

“Sure, sweets,” he agreed easily. Happily, even. “Or we can take a bath? There’s a tub in my bathroom.”

She was clambering to her feet before he even finished talking, swaying, almost crumbling back down when her knees gave up. A disgruntled whine sounded from her throat, interrupted by a giggle when strong arms came around her middle to lift her right off the floor. The room spun, her vision blurring at the move until a big grin and deep dimples were all she could see. “Careful there, darling,” San said.

A soft “Sannie” was murmured into the warm skin of his neck, her arms coming up to wrap tightly around him. He laughed, a low chuckle that warmed her inside out. 

“Can I carry you there?” he asked, voice low and sweet.

The nod she offered him in response buried her face further into his neck, lips brushing his collarbone, cheek nuzzling against his shoulder. She murmured his name again, relaxing into the way his arms tightened around her. Hands firm but gentle as they held her, fingers dipping teasingly beneath her shirt as it bunched up at her waist, tickling lightly at her skin until she giggled and her fingers tightened in the fabric of his top.

“C’mon, sweets,” Seonghwa murmured, hand curling briefly around her ankle. “Lets get you clean and cozy, hmm?”

An affirmative hum came from her throat, and then San was carrying her down the hallway behind Seonghwa’s slim figure.  Walking slow, being sure not to jostle her too much, whispering little things in her ear that kept her feeling warm and fuzzy inside. Her arms curled around him, lips brushing any inch of him she could get ahold of, unable to keep herself from nibbling. Teeth found warm skin, not hard but enough pressure to leave patches of red on his tan skin. Satisfaction tightened her chest at the sight, and she couldn’t help but suck a little mark into the hollow at the base of his throat, giggling happily against the wet skin when San’s groan echoed off the bathroom walls. 

“We got a possessive little bun it seems,” Seonghwa mused, long fingers threading into her hair to grip lightly at the roots. 

“My Sannie,” she slurred out, nipping over the mark slowly purpling beneath her lips. 

Soft laughter filled the room as she was set down on the bathroom counter. A whine started to bubble up, but was smothered before it could be fully realized. Soft and wet, tasting of cherry. Distracting enough that she couldn’t miss San’s warmth too much, not even hearing when he slipped out and closed the door with a soft click. 

She sighed into the kiss, yielding to it fully as he licked teasingly into her mouth. The slide of his tongue against hers, the flavor of his lip balm as she sucked at his bottom lip had her belly swooping pleasantly. Her hands stayed on her lap, but she couldn’t help but lean forward, closer to him, chest to chest. 

The held back whine from moments ago bubbled up again, and Seonghwa laughed. The sound low and affectionate and just…everything. “Calm down, bunny,” he said, fingers brushing down the side of her face. “I need to fill the tub so we can take that bath, remember?”

“We?”

“Mhm,” he hummed. “Unless you want to take it alone?”

She shook her head. Pouted. She absolutely did not want that.

“Then be good for me.” 

Her stomach gave a startling swoop at those words, skin flushing hot and head fuzzier than it had been since the whole thing started. “Wanna be good.” she said, voice a dreamy echo in the bathroom. 

“You wanna be good for me, bunny?” He turned to her from where he was perched on the edge of the tub, fingers under the rushing water, testing the temperature. 

All she could do was nod, mouth dry and words stuck in her throat. 

“Does that make you feel floaty?”

“Yes,” she admitted, hands kneading at her thighs. 

He hummed, reaching into a basket resting on a small table beside the tub to pull out a container of bath salts and a bottle of what she could only assume to be bubbles. Lavender and vanilla filled the room, and she wanted to melt into a puddle of warmth right there. The tub filled slowly, and he walked back over to her as it took its sweet time. “Still doing good, sweets?” he asked, hands braced on the counter on either side of her. 

“Mhm,” she hummed, reaching out to curl her fingers around the bottom of his shirt, pulling him closer to stand between her legs. “Kiss?” she asked. 

“I can give you kisses,” he said, hands sweeping up her arms to rest on either side of her neck, thumbs nudging her jaw to tip her head back. “You can give me kisses too. Wherever you want, bunny.”

Her eyes fell to his neck, perusing the elegant line of it. Her mouth all but watered at the sight, tongue dancing behind her teeth at the need to feel the smooth expanse of golden skin beneath it. To sink her teeth in. To leave little bites, to leave traces of red and purple to bloom in their wake. His throat bobbed with a swallow, and her eyes flicked up to lock with his. Usually wide and sparkly but now hooded and dark. 

“What is it, sweet girl? Hmm? Wanna mark me up like you did Sannie?”

“Please?”

“Asking so pretty,” he murmured, thumb stroking down her jaw in a slow slide that sent a shiver down her spine. “Of course you can, bunny. But lets get in the tub first.”

His hands were gentle as he helped her to stand. Steady and slow as he helped her out of her clothes and folded each piece to set on the counter. He did the same with his own clothing. Stripping each piece slowly, folding them methodically to put them beside the pile of her own. Then, he was leading her over to the tub. Helping her inside before climbing in to settle behind her. 

No matter how much she wanted to lean back into his chest and relax into the warmth of the water and his skin, she turned to straddle his lap. Like he knew she was going to, he helped her, hands on her hips, knees hitching up to support her better as she slid closer him. Belly to belly, chest to chest, skin slick with water. Bubbles cradling them and scented steam floating in the air. It was enough to make the haziness of her brain grow. Enough to have her pressing even closer, close enough she could feel the flex of his muscles against her own, could feel him still soft but starting to fill out beneath the curve of her ass. 

Feeling bold, she slid her hands up his arms like he had with her earlier. Over the defined roundness of his shoulders to cup the sides of his neck, using her thumbs to tip his head back. He let her with a throaty groan, head hitting the wall behind him with a soft thud. He swallowed, throat bobbing temptingly again, and she couldn’t help herself. 

Her tongue ran up the temping line of his neck, teeth nipped lightly at the sharp edge of his jaw, kissed the soft skin beneath his chin. 

“Go ahead and mark me up, sweet girl,” he murmured, voice low and rough, fingers dancing up her spine with light touches that made her hips twitch. “Show everyone I’m yours, hmm?”

The words made her moan, the sound high-pitched and sweeter than the vanilla blanketing the air. She littered his skin with kisses, nips, and bites, enjoying the way his sounds echoed in the room. Low and rumbling and breathless, the sounds so fucking pretty they made her head spin. 

His cock was pressing hot and insistent against her ass by the time she reached the beautiful ridge of his collarbones, teeth grazing the thin skin, sucking a mark into the dip between them like she had with Sannie. Her hips rolled in his lap, nestling him right between her cheeks. “Hwa,” she whined needily. 

“Ignore it, bunny,” he said, petting the back of her head as she bit at his neck again, fingers flexing in her hair. 

“Want it,” she breathed. 

“I’m glad you do. But you’re not getting it. Not right now, not when you’re floaty and we didn’t talk about it before. No matter how pretty you ask.”

Her heart fluttered at the low tone of his voice, the gentle command in the words. His name fell from her lips again, hips rocking forward against his firm stomach. 

“Calm down, bunny,” he murmured, grip tight against the back of her neck. “Be good for Hwa, hmm?”

Her thighs shook with the effort it took to be still, but she did as he said. The praise warming her inside out as she forced herself to relax against him, head on his shoulder and face pressed tight to his spit-slicked neck. 

“There you go,” he praised softly, hot breath fanning her ear and making her shiver. “Such a good sweet bunny for me. Just let me take care of you, good girl.” 

And he did. Making her relax against him, smoothing his hands over her skin and playing with her hair and the bubbles until the water started to cool. Then helping her stand for a shower to rinse the bath away. Lathering her skin with a mellow smelling bodywash, scrubbing in gentle circles until she felt smooth and clean. Washing her hair, letting her scrub him with the rich later of his bodywash while waiting for her hair to condition. Gently turning down her offer to wash his hair for him, instead having her lean against him as he did it himself. Drying her off with a fluffy towel. Massaging lotion into her skin while conditioner sat in his own hair. Letting her sit on the closed toilet while he rinsed the product out, washing the residue off his skin with another quick pass of bodywash. 

She dried him off, loving the small act of service, sprinkling his damp skin with more little red marks of her affection that she hoped would stay until the next day. 

Hongjoong came in when her face was once again pressed against Hwa’s neck, sucking a new purple mark into the curve where his neck and shoulder met. Just in time to see his friend shiver at the little possessive display. His low laughter filled the room, slow and rolling like the steam hanging in the air. 

“Was going to ask if Hwa was taking care of you, but it seems you’re the one taking care of him instead,” he mused, laughing louder when they both turned to him with wide, startled eyes. His gaze flicked over them, lingering on the flush of her skin and the evidence of her affection lingering on his friends neck, dipping down to take in the tenting of Hwa’s low-slung towel.

Seonghwa shifted in embarrassment, but snorted at his friend. “What do you need, Joong?” he said. 

Hongjoong rolled his eyes but held up the bundles he was holding against his chest. “I brought clothes.” He handed one over to Seonghwa before stepping closer to her. “Mingi insisted you wear one of his shirts, but the shorts are mine.”

Giddiness bubbled up in her chest, making her giggle and wiggle in her spot, loving the casual claiming that dressing someone in one’s own clothes could signify. 

OTHER WARNINGS: alcohol (everyone is sober), cursing, discussion of consent, they’re strangers and they have sex, san in that tight white button-up shirt, san carries oc, wooyoung’s hands, smutty smutty smut, wooyoung has a dirty mouth, manhandling, nicknames (sweetheart - from wooyoung, darling-from san, definitely a “good girl” or two), praise/degradation-ish, spanking, pussy slapping, begging lots of begging, unprotected sex (please don’t do this irl), start of aftercare (definitely do this irl, it's important), but it continues in the next part

♡ pic does not fully represent how they're described in the fic - well, wooyoung's look is actually pretty close - I just love these pics of them 🥺 but thank you for even glancing at this and I hope you enjoy. biggest thanks to @frenchkisstheabyss for always hyping my writing up and helping me gain the confidence to finally post some of this beast of a fic. literally adore you so much, bestie boo 🥹💖 I edit as I write, but there are bound to be mistakes. if you find any, please let me know so I can fix them. also may cross-post this fic over on ao3. anyway, enjooooy, reader ♡

i. warm between them

Rora was upset. No, she was fucking pissed. Her coworkers, people she had thought could even become her friends - if she could even really think of them in that way, anymore - had talked her into coming to this stupid fucking place, a mere hour after getting home from work, just to abandon her at the door. Rolling her eyes, she swirled the last little bit of her drink around in the glass. Raised it. Swallowed the last of it in one go. Her head was threatening to ache as the music boomed around the enclosed space and the smell of spilled drinks and sweat invaded her nose. But she couldn’t leave just yet. It wouldn’t have been worth the effort of getting all dressed up and getting there just to stay for so little time. 

Fuck, if she saw any of them in the office on Monday, she just might have to give them a piece of her mind. Or just ignore them cause, honestly, they weren’t worth the effort of continuing to befriend them anymore and lord knows she’s the least confrontational human to ever walk the Earth.

“Could I get some water, please?” she asked the bartender as they passed by in front of her. The woman behind the bar nodded, shaggy black hair falling into her face as she grabbed the now empty glass and walked away. It wasn’t long before a new glass was set in front of her and Rora was thanking the woman, taking a long sip of blessedly cool liquid.

The atmosphere was just that little bit too warm. She wasn’t sure if it was from the alcohol or the place or her anger or some other factor, but she felt sticky. Her skin, in the small glimpses she got of her arms, gleamed in the low lighting, and if she wasn’t currently upset, she would feel…sexy? Yeah, definitely. Thinking about it, she already did. Angry and sexy and in need of some way to vent it out.

Her internal musing was cut short when, out of her periphery, she saw someone settle in the seat to her right, and when she set her glass down to glance around herself, she noticed it was a man. Dressed in a leather jacket, a low cut black shirt that showed off beautifully tanned skin and collarbones, and a pair of ripped up jeans that hugged muscular thighs and showed what looked like a tattoo above his knee. His hair was black, on the longer side, styled in a messy way that framed his face. And goodness what a face! She blinked as he stared back at her, dark brown eyes skimming down her figure then slowly coming back up to settle on her own. 

Plump lips ticked up into a smirk before he turned to his right, leaning close to say something to a man standing beside him. This one had longer hair, too, though not quite as long as his friends’ and bleached blond. He wore a white button-up, tucked into black pants and unbuttoned at the throat, a belt hugging his surprisingly small waist, further emphasizing the broadness of his shoulders. The other man glanced over at her, head cocked to the side as his eyes roamed over her. Shit, she knew she looked good, dressed up in her favorite silky red dress, but the way he was looking at her made her feel absolutely scrumptious.

Arching a brow at them, she crossed one leg over the other and shifted to face the two men more directly. “Can I help you?” She finally asked, just loud enough to be heard over the music. An uncharacteristic amount of confrontation for her, sure, but with how upset she already was, the alcohol in her system, and feeling overwhelmed by these two very fine men, it isn’t any wonder that she spoke up. That didn’t stop her cheeks from heating up, though, or the nerves from fluttering around in her belly. 

The man in the leather jacket chuckled, leaning closer to her, arm propped up on the bar as he leaned close. The pleasant smell of his cologne wafted up to her with the move, and she found herself inhaling again, eyes threatening to flutter closed, just to get another hit of the addicting scent. “Maybe,” he said, leaning down so that he could lock his eyes directly with hers. It was dark, but enough light filled the space that she could take note of the asymmetry of his features, how one eyelid was double eyelid and the other wasn’t. That just made his eyes all the more stunning, made his gaze all the more sexy as it drifted over her once again. “Do you like to dance?”

“Maybe,” she replied, ignoring the way her heart picked up pace in her chest and pushing her hair back as it threatened to fall in her face. “Are you asking me to dance with you?” 

“We are.” He tipped his head to the side to indicate the man behind him, and the other man leaned closer as well, smirking lightly, a dimple showing itself in his cheek. Goodness, he’s beautiful. They both are. Her cheeks warmed under their eyes, and she shifted in her seat, eyes flitting down to her lap, where her hands grasped her drink, fingers tapping against the glass. 

Rora took a moment to think it over as she picked her glass back up to take another drink. Placing her water down on the bar, she wiped away the smudge left behind by her lipstick with her thumb. Then, she stood from her seat and adjusted her dress. “Lead the way.”

Leather jacket stepped close and circled her wrist loosely with his fingers, pausing a moment to look her face over, scooting closer so that she could better hear him over the music. “Is this okay?” White shirt crowded in, resting his hand on leather jacket’s shoulder as he waited for her answer. 

Her gaze darted down to his grip on her arm, and her tongue poked out to wet her lower lip. She looked back up at him and nodded, heart picking up pace when he smiled, teeth flashing in the dim lighting, fingers properly shackling her wrist to pull her into the mass of dancing people. White shirt found his place behind her, his hand settling at her lower back as they searched for an opening in the writhing bodies. 

It was mere moments before she was pressed in between them, the dancing people forcing them closer together. The man with the broad shoulders was behind her, his muscular chest against her back. Leather jacket was in front of her, pressed fully against her. He still had a grip on her wrist, and he guided her arm up to loop around his neck. Locking her arms around him, she followed his movements, her eyes closing as she let herself get caught up in the hazy atmosphere, heart thumping along with the bass of the song ringing through the air. 

Hands settled on her hips, the neck her arms were looped around dipping down and toward her. Breath fanned along her exposed neck, lips ghosting the shell of her ear. “What’s your name, sweetheart?” Leather jacket rasped out.

A shiver shot down her spine. “Rora,” she breathed out. “Yours?”

“Wooyoung,” he said, his teeth nipping at her earlobe, making her gasp, her body pressing further into his own. He chuckled before lifting his head, putting more into the dance, his hips swaying perfectly to the beat of the song. 

The man at her back somehow crowded closer, his hands ghosting up her sides to settle just below her breasts, grip firm and hips tight against her bottom. “I’m San,” he said, nose dragging the length of her neck. 

Her breathing hitched at the move, head tilting to the side as she pressed farther into him. She could feel them both, flush against her body, their hips guiding her movements as they danced. The three of them stayed like that for who knows how long, she certainly didn’t know, wholly lost in the moment, in the haze of warmth blooming in her belly from their close proximity. At some point, Wooyoung’s thigh pressed between her own, cock hard against her hip, one of his hands tangling in her hair to push it back from her face. San’s face was buried in her neck, hair tickling her skin. She could feel him, too, still fitted tight against her ass, hardening cock pressing insistently between the plush of her cheeks.

“Let’s get out of here, hmm?” San whispered in her ear, hips rutting forward purposefully, allowing her to feel him better, hard and thick, through his pants. Her breath hitched in her throat at the move. Heat pooled low in her belly, and she couldn’t help the way her hips twitched forward. There was no way Wooyung couldn’t feel how wet she was against his thigh, her panties were practically useless by that point. 

“If we leave, we’re fucking, do you understand that?” Wooyoung said from her other side. “The three of us,” he murmured, his nose pressing into her jaw, teeth following immediately after. Her head tipped back as she stifled a moan, and she nodded. 

San’s strong hands turned her around by her hips, one flying up to grip her jaw just tight enough to have her gaze flying right to his face. “We’re gonna need words, darling,” he murmured, eyes scanning over her face before coming to land on her puckered, lipstick-reddened lips. 

“I understand,” she breathed, her tongue darted out over her lower lip. “And I want it. Want you - both of you.” 

San’s eyelids lowered as he groaned, and he swooped down to capture her lips with his own. It was quick and hot, and she couldn’t even respond. He didn’t seem to mind, his tongue dipping briefly between her lips before he pulled away, hand still gripping her chin. Her lipstick was smudged across his mouth and he looked so damn smug, heavy lidded eyes drifting over her face. 

“Why so shocked, darling?” he asked, amused, head tilting so his hair fell across his forehead. She just blinked up at him, allowing herself to go boneless, to fall back so that she was pressed against Wooyoung. 

The chest she was leaning on for support rumbled with laughter and a hand brushed down the length of her arm. She hummed, head tipping back so that she could look at the man behind her. 

His hand came up to her jaw, pulling her in until his lips were on her own. It was quick, but so damn hot. His lips moved slowly against her own, lingering and sexy despite the quickness of the moment, and when he pulled away, he made sure to bite down on her lower lip hard enough that she gasped. He smirked as he leaned away, tugging on her wrist so that she would follow behind him. San followed, finding his place at Wooyoung’s side as the three of them left the building and walked through the night. 

They didn’t make it very far before one of her heels scuffed awkwardly on the sidewalk, causing her to stumble, her arm tugging against Wooyoung’s grip and a squeak slipping from her lips. The two men stopped their hushed conversation and turned to check on her. They didn’t say anything, glancing over her embarrassed figure before coming to rest on her heeled feet. “Sorry,” she mumbled, straightening up and tugging on the bottom of her dress. 

“Are you okay?” Wooyoung asked, using his grip on her to help her stand straight. 

“Yeah,” she said, cheeks hot as she giggled awkwardly. “Just tripped.”

San took his time looking her over again, hands moving gently over her arms. “Are you drunk?” he asked. 

“No, just clumsy,” she said with a rueful little grin. “I only had two drinks and I was drinking water when you both approached me.”

He nodded, and his hand fell from her completely. He stepped away, turned, crouched down. At her surprised noise, he looked back at her from over his shoulder. “Get on my back,” he said. 

“I - ” she blinked at him. “What?”

He grinned, sending her a little wink, dimples on display. “Come on,” he said. “We aren’t that far away. I can carry you the rest of the way.”

“Oh,” she breathed. “But…my dress.” 

Wooyoung stepped forward, already shrugging out of his jacket, and tied it around her waist. “There,” he said. “Problem solved.” 

Cheeks burning, she took a tentative step toward San. When she was too slow for his liking, he took the initiative. Hands reaching back, gripping her thighs tightly to pull her closer. In mere seconds, he hoisted her onto his back. She squealed, clutching at his broad shoulders for dear life as he stood up.  

San chuckled. “Just hold on and relax, darling. I’ve got you.” An innocent enough sentence, sure, but the way he said it, the low tone and the rasp in his voice, with how close it was to her ear, those strong hands on her, sent heat rushing to her face and thoughts flooding her brain.

Rora huffed, forcing herself to relax against him. His muscles shifted against her as he started walking, and she found herself enthralled with them. How firm they were, how they felt as they moved against her. How he held her like she was nothing. Her mind began to run wild, images of what he could do with all that obvious strength. How he could lift her. How he could bend her. How his hands could grip and pull and slap in the best fucking ways. 

Her breath rushed out of her as an image came to mind. Of her bent over a surface or a lap, San’s strong hand coming down on her ass in a sharp slap. It was so vivid, she almost felt the pain, and she couldn’t help herself from shifting in San’s hold. 

She let her gaze move over to Wooyoung, who was silently walking beside them. She wondered what he was thinking, what he would do when they made it to wherever they were going. She wondered how he would treat her, whether he would be gentle or mean. She wouldn’t complain either way, but as her eyes dropped down to his lips, watching as they stretched, the corners ticking up as he caught her stare, she wanted nothing more than for him to degrade her in the sweetest of ways. Wanted to hear pretty, dirty words in his honey voice. 

A shiver worked down her spine, and she tightened her thighs around San’s waist, letting her head fall to rest on his shoulder to suppress whatever noise was threatening to fall from her throat. Her body shifted against the broad man’s back as he lifted her further up his back, causing her to gasp against the skin of his neck. She felt the shiver run through him and giggled, finally letting her arms fall, hands lacing together against his chest. 

“Something funny?” Wooyoung asked, his hand settling on her lower back. She could feel the heat of his palm even through the layers of her dress and his jacket and had to refrain herself from wiggling, wanting that hand cupping her ass.

She hummed, letting her breath brush over San’s neck again. “Is your neck sensitive, San?” she asked quietly, her nose barely brushing his earlobe. His grip on her thighs tightened, all the muscles in his arms and upper back tensing, releasing. She giggled again, pushing herself up to look over at Wooyoung.

His brows were arched, gaze already on her. “I don’t know if teasing him is the best idea, sweetheart.” 

She pouted at him, her head tilting. “Was I teasing? I didn’t mean to.” She blinked at him, smothering another giggle that was threatening to bubble up from her chest. Her teeth nibbled at her bottom lip, and she watched as his dark eyes flickered down to watch. 

He simply hummed in response, his hand trailing down over the curve of her bottom before slipping from her entirely as he turned to focus on walking. “Are you going to be a little brat?” he asked, tucking his hands into the pockets of his jeans. 

Her head fell to rest on San’s shoulder again, her heart speeding up in her chest at the question, at the lowering of his voice, how casually he said it. She kept her gaze on the man walking beside them and took a breath to steady herself. “I’m far from a brat, actually,” she said, pushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Usually. And never with strangers.” 

His gaze traveled to her once again, flicking over her face for a moment. His eyes gleamed, looking so, so lovely under the streetlights, and she almost whined when he turned to face forward again, wanting his gaze to stay on her. “What are you comfortable with doing with strangers?”

She hesitated, lips compressing as she took a moment to think. “I…haven’t done anything like this before, so I’m not entirely sure,” she admitted, refusing to feel ashamed and hoping against hope that the two of them wouldn’t change their minds. 

San paused, faltering only a step before continuing walking. “What?” he asked, his hand rubbing her thigh gently, almost reassuringly, and she sighed out softly at the move, her hands flattening against his chest in a single smooth glide as he continued. “A threesome or going home with strangers?” 

“I had a threesome one time before, and it was with a long-term partner at the time and another girl rather than two men,” she mused, letting one of her hands move from San’s chest to play with the ends of his hair absentmindedly. He hummed, fingers kneading her skin lightly. “But, yeah, the strangers thing. That’s new to me.”

The two men stopped at a set of concrete steps, and Wooyoung carefully helped her down from San’s back. His shirt tightened around his arms, enhancing the shape of the muscles there. Her mouth nearly watered at the thought of biting into those firm arms. She forced her eyes up to his face when he tapped beneath her chin, his eyes wide, sincere, looking so damn sparkly she was almost jealous. “Are you sure you want to do this?” Wooyoung asked.

She looked up at him, head already nodding. “Yes. Fuck yes!” she rushed out, perhaps a little too excitedly, causing both of them to chuckle. 

♡♡♡

Rora was pushed against the door as soon as they entered the apartment, a hand at the back of her head, blocking it from hitting the wooden surface. Strong fingers tangled in her hair, tugging her forward until she was nose to nose with San, his narrowed eyes running over her face, thumb rubbing circles against her scalp, a strong hand smoothing down her belly. He didn’t kiss her, though. Instead, he untangled the knotted jacket, pulling it from her form as he stepped back, releasing her. She couldn’t stop the furrowing of her brows or the barely audible whimper that fell from her. 

“Patience, darling,” he said, chuckling, dimples flashing in the dim lighting of the room, one finger trailing down the side of her face. “It’s not my turn yet. Woo’s first.”

Her eyes shifted from San’s face, over his shoulder to catch Wooyoung’s hot gaze. He was on the sofa, leaning forward with his elbows propped on his thighs, chin resting on his clasped hands. “Come here, sweetheart,” he said, sitting back on the piece of furniture as he patted his lap. His pants were pulled taut over his thighs, tanned skin peaking through rips in a way that did nothing but entice her. “Come have a seat.” 

She didn’t even allow herself time to think, keeping her eyes locked with Wooyoung’s, getting lost in them, wholly entranced as she stepped out of her heels, walked over, and straddled him. His hand came up to cup the back of her neck, pulling her down to his level. Her heart sped up in her chest, leaving her breathless. Or maybe it was because of the proximity, her body so close to his own now, faces only centimeters apart, his breath brushing over her parted lips. 

The moment lingered on, the room quiet, tense, as they looked at each other, his fingers still against the base of her skull. She took him in, noting the little spot below his eye, her gaze catching on one almost hidden away on his bottom lip. Fuck, she wanted to kiss it, bite it. Her own bottom lip found itself nestled between her teeth as she looked at him, as she waited.

Then suddenly, she was pulled that last little bit forward, her hands flying up to grip his shoulders. A gasp slipped from her, the sound immediately smothered by Wooyoung’s mouth. She shifted in his lap, thighs squeezing around him as she pulled herself closer until their fronts were flush against each other. His kisses were slow, drugging, pulling the breath right from her lungs. His lips firm, deliberate, his teeth nibbling and tongue teasing.

Warm fingers edged up the bottom of her dress, smoothing up her thighs to push the fabric up, up, up, until her ass was uncovered, until it was over her belly, over her breasts, over her shoulders. Her arms lifted to help him with the process, his hands gliding up the length of them until the red fabric was finally over her head. He sat back, dropping the dress on the sofa next to them, and took her in. Her favorite pair of black lace panties–they did wonders for her ass, in her own opinion, and it must be true if the groan that came from San from behind her meant anything–and no bra. 

“Naughty girl,” Wooyoung said, chuckling. His hands rested back on her thighs, and she found herself looking at them. Taking in the thick veins that traveled up his arms, the hard muscles covered in soft tan skin. She watched as his touch shifted, his fingers trailed up her belly again, barely touching, sending shivers through her at the ticklish feeling, trying her hardest not to squirm when his thumbs brushed the undersides of her breasts. “Were you planning on going home with someone tonight?” 

She shook her head, breath catching in her throat as he gently tugged one nipple then the other, her hands gripping his shoulders tighter as the sensations zipped through her, gaze coming back up to his face. “It was my first time going out in a while, and I wanted to feel sexy,” she explained, voice soft, tight with the moans starting to build in her chest. 

Wooyoung simply hummed, hands moving, one settling firmly at her waist and the other spanning her jaw, thumb at her chin, tipping her head back. His lips were there immediately, kissing along her jaw, down her neck, trailing down to her shoulder and across her collarbones. His teeth nipped, tongue laved as he sucked her skin between his lips.

Her grip on him released, fingers trailing up his neck to tangle in his hair, her hips shifting, grinding down on his lap. He was hard, straining against the material of his jeans, pressing just perfectly against her cunt, right against her clit with every movement. Her hips rolled, and a moan got caught in her chest as pleasure spread through her. 

His hand moved from her jaw, pushing her hair back, smoothing it down to cup the back of her head. Their noses brushed, lips only centimeters apart. “Sannie can be a little rough sometimes, so I’m gonna get you all ready for him. That sound good, sweetheart?”

“Yeah,” she breathed out, ignoring the tingle in her belly at Wooyoung’s words. Rough was perfectly fine with her, and so was some foreplay with this sexy ass man. “Sounds good.” 

His fingertips traced the band of her panties, pulling and releasing it with a snap. She gasped at the sting, fingers tightening in his hair when his hand dipped inside, fingers immediately finding her wetness. 

He groaned, nipping the top of her breast lightly. “So fucking wet,” he said, letting his fingers slip up to lightly circle around her clit. She gasped, back arching, pressing herself tighter against his hand. 

“Fuck,” a voice rumbled from behind her in the room, and in a daze, she looked over her shoulder, finding San resting against a wall, shirt already unbuttoned to reveal a beautifully muscled torso, pants hanging open as he palmed himself over his boxers. His gaze was hot on her, burning. “You look so pretty in Woo’s lap, darling. Your back is so fucking sexy, I might have to put you on your knees and fuck you ass up just to see it better.” 

Goosebumps littered her skin at his words, at the gravel in his voice, and she knew she must have been so fucking red at that point. 

“Do you like that, sweetheart?” Wooyoung asked, free hand gripping her thigh tightly, blunt nails digging in enough to leave behind small crescents, as the fingers of his other hand slid down to her entrance, pressing in lightly, chuckling when two slipped in easily. “Well, you certainly like something, hmm? Swallowed my fingers right up.”

She whimpered, lashes fluttering, head lolling back at the sensation of finally being filled, at the way Wooyoung spoke the words right into her ear.

“How does she feel, Woo?” San asked breathlessly, legs spreading to brace himself better against the wall. 

“So fucking wet and soft, fuck,” Wooyoung groaned, fingers retreating only to press back in quickly, causing her to cry out. 

Her breathing came out in short bursts, heart thundering in her chest, skin tingling under their gazes. She loved the thickness of his digits, how well they filled her up, and she couldn’t help but rock her hips, fucking herself on his fingers as they talked about her. 

Hell, that was hot too, how they talked about her like she wasn’t even there. Like she couldn’t answer for herself, which, she wasn’t even sure she would be able to. Not with how he pumped into her, scissoring his fingers, stretching her open.

A third finger teased at her entrance, and she stilled, leaning forward to rest her head on Wooyoung’s shoulder. Her face turned to nuzzle into his neck, lips brushing the soft skin, hands coming up to pull down the neck of his shirt. The smell of his cologne wafted up her nose alongside the smell of her own arousal as he slowly pressed the third finger inside her, her head going fuzzy at the mix. 

The stretch had her nails digging into his shoulders as she moaned out, teeth biting down on his collarbone. He grunted, the heel of his palm pressing up to grind against her clit. “Fuck,” she whispered out, hips shifting, rocking against his hand. “Feels so good.” 

“Yeah? Gonna cum on my fingers?” She nodded. Her hips stuttered, stilled as she felt her orgasm approaching, felt the tightening in her belly. Wooyoung’s hand swept up her body, settling at the back of her neck, his fingers picking up pace inside her. “Be a good girl, then, sweetheart. Cum all over my hand.”

Her pussy clamped down and she couldn’t breath for a moment as her orgasm washed over her. Whole body tingling, sounds around her muffled as her ears rang, eyes shut tight. Her back arched, voice cracking as she shouted out her pleasure, murmuring out curses as Wooyoung pushed her orgasm further, fingers never ceasing, slowing only when she fell against him, body lax and sated, unable to stop the noises from falling from her throat.

A low chuckle rang through the quiet of the room at the whine she released upon the fingers pulling out of her, and Wooyoung smoothed his hand down her back. “Was it good?” he asked softly, teeth nibbling at her ear.

“Mhm,” she hummed, still trying to regain her breathing as the sensations continued to roll through her. “Fuck.” Her face nuzzled into his neck again, that intoxicating scent once again filling her nose as she breathed her way back down to earth.

She squeaked when arms wrapped around her waist and she was suddenly hoisted up out of Wooyoung’s lap and into the air, her back meeting a warm, hard chest. “My turn, darling,” San growled into her ear. 

She couldn’t help but giggle, exhilarated at the show of strength and still floating in the aftermath of her orgasm, as he carried her down a short hallway and through an open doorway. He tossed her onto a bed before she had time to look around herself, shrieking as she bounced on the soft mattress, a soft blanket puffing up around her. Her gaze tracked the two men as they filled the room, as one went one way and the other approached her. 

“If I do something you don’t like,” San murmured, crawling over her, “and if there’s something you want me to do, tell me, okay?”

“Yes,” she said, nodding her head as she gazed up at him. “Of course.”

His half-lidded eyes scanned over her face and he groaned. “Gonna kiss you,” he declared, swooping down before she could say anything in response. 

There was no teasing in this kiss, barely any lead up, just harsh presses and nibbling teeth and hands all over her. His tongue swept into her open, panting mouth, curled around her own briefly, before he sucked her lower lip into his mouth. She moaned, gripped his shoulders, kneaded the muscles there. 

His kisses trailed from her mouth, down her jaw, down her neck. She tingled with every scrape of teeth, each time he sucked her skin into his mouth. She hoped there would be marks as his rough hands smoothed down her sides, gripped her hips tight enough to still her. He moved down her belly, dipping his tongue into her belly button for a moment. Moved down to bite the soft skin of the inside of her thighs, sucking harshly at the edge of her panties. Again right at the crease where her hip and thigh met. 

He kissed her pussy right through her soaked panties, looked up at her through heavy lidded eyes. He stared, fingers just playing with the soft lace, brushing his thumb up to press against her clit. Her back arched just as Wooyoung finally walked into the bedroom. She watched him walk inside, right to a chair in the corner. He sat the way he did out in the living room, leaned back in all that casual sexiness, those thighs spread wide. 

San grunted, bit her thigh a little harder than he had previously. She cried out, thighs closing around his head before he was able to hold them open. “Look at me, darling,” he murmured, shoving her thighs open with a heated glare. 

She simply nodded, breathless and unable to find any words for a response, especially when his fingers finally started pulling her panties down her legs. Hot kisses followed the fabric, all the way down to her ankle. He threw the fabric behind him without a single glance back, seeming to find her nakedness much more interesting. His hands trailed up, calluses dragging against her skin delightfully, raising goosebumps. “So fucking pretty,” he sighed, pushing her legs up, wrapping his arms around her thighs to pull her into him. 

A squeal slipped from her as she slid down the mattress, a moan following when his clothed cock pressed into her wetness. He rutted against her, leaning down to pull one of her nipples into his mouth. His teeth bit, tongue rolled over the erect bud, mouth suctioned. 

Her hands found his hair, tugged as her hips bucked up at a particularly harsh suck. “San,” she whined breathlessly, shaking hands frantically pushing at his opened shirt. “Sannie, please.”

He chuckled, the sound low and right from his chest. “Don’t worry, darling. I’ve got you.” She watched in impatient awe as he stood to undress, first shrugging out of his shirt, then pulling down his pants and underwear. She watched as he crawled back into the bed, muscles shifting beautifully beneath his skin. Watched as he kneeled between her still spread legs, one hand coming down to encircle his cock, the other coming to hold her thigh in place. “Ready?” he asked. 

Rora nodded emphatically, and she knew she must look desperate. She didn’t care. She was desperate. Soso desperate and empty and she needed that cock inside her. “Please,” she said again. 

He cooed at her, hand rubbing soothing circles into her skin as he shifted closer to rub the head of his cock through her folds. “Of course, darling. Just relax for me.” He waited for her to take a breath, and then he was sliding home in one smooth stroke. 

The stretch was mind melting. She couldn't even breathe, couldn’t find a sound, as her head tossed back, stuck between thankful and frustrated when he held himself still to let her adjust to being full.  

“There you go.” San’s voice rumbled, his hands smoothing over her skin, gripping her hips tightly. At her first gasping breath, he started to move, full, long thrusts that left her brainless and boneless and so full of pleasure. “Feel good?” he asked, palm flattening against her lower belly, thumb finding her clit. 

She moaned, twitched as his thumb circled there, not touching directly, but enough to have her clenching around him. “Oh, fuck,” she muttered. “Oh, fuck yes. Sannie, feels so good.”

“Good girl,” he groaned, picking up pace, hips hitting her ass with sharp slapping sounds that filled the silent room. 

“Oh, come on. Is that all you’ve got, Sannie?” Wooyoung’s voice rumbled out suddenly, tone mocking. She threw her head back, choking on a moan when San gave a particularly sharp thrust in response. 

“Fuck you,” San hissed out, lowering himself down over her, elbows propped on either side of her head. His biceps bulged as he shifted, head dipping down to leave little bites over her breasts, up to her neck, teeth digging in hard enough to bruise. She cried out, hands flying up to grab at his arms, nails digging in. He groaned at that, the sound reverberating in her ear and she couldn’t help but moan in response, the sound so fucking sexy. 

Wooyoung laughed, low and dark. “No,” he rasped out. His voice was breathy, and she opened her eyes, head tilting further to look around San’s broad shoulders at him. He was still splayed out in the chair in the corner, legs wide as he palmed himself through his tight, tight pants. Fuck, the sight was so hot, and she wanted to be on his lap again. She imagined his hands in her hair, grip tight, as she slid down to the floor between his knees. She almost gasped when his eyes locked with hers and he sent her a wink, tongue darting out over his bottom lip. Captivating her. She watched as he spoke again, head tilting back to bare his throat as he palmed himself once again. “Fuck her.”

San grunted, stopping suddenly, leaving her to gasp, gaze going back to him, eyes wide, pleading. “San?” she whispered out, but he didn’t answer her, instead withdrawing from her entirely, the only thing keeping them connected being his hands as they trailed up her sides to grasp at her arms. “Oh!” she exclaimed as he pulled her up, manhandling her first onto her knees, then down so that her face was pressed against the covers. 

“How about you shut your fucking mouth, Woo,” San said, hissing as he, in one swift push, filled her once again, pausing only a moment before setting up a fast pace. His hand came down against her ass, the harsh slap echoing around the room. 

“Fuck yes,” she breathed out, moans muffled by the thick blankets covering the mattress. “Again.” She panted, pushing back to meet his thrusts. “Please!” 

San’s hand raised then flew back down in another slap, right on the other cheek, and Wooyoung chuckled as she cried out, her hands reaching out in front of herself to grasp the blanket in tight fists. “Manhandling and spanking, hmm? Want someone to pull your hair too?” 

“Yesyesyes,” she said, gasping loudly when her hair was suddenly caught in a tight fist, yanking her head up off the bed. Her eyes flew open at the sting in her scalp, tears threatening to wet her lashes as she scrambled to brace herself at the sudden move. Wooyoung was standing there, leaning over her so that his face was centimeters away from her own, their noses brushing. The faintest bit of alcohol tinged his breath, but she didn’t mind, far too lost in his eyes to care. The hungry look in them as they looked over her face. Her cheeks burned at his perusal, but she didn’t protest. 

She did go still, however, letting San fully take over in that moment. The strong hands gripping her hips tightened, lifting them higher in the air, and San slowed. The slow drag of his cock was delicious, making her shiver, eyes nearly rolling back, lashes fluttering, as she moaned. 

Wooyoung tugged on her hair again, tipping her head back further. “Look at me.” Her lashes fluttered open almost immediately. “Good girl,” he murmured, trailing a finger down her cheek lightly. He took in the flush in her cheeks, spreading down her neck to her chest, disappearing between her heavy, swaying breasts. “And so, so pretty, hmm? Taking Sannie’s cock so well.”

Her breath puffed out in a moan, head going light between his words and the slow glide of San’s cock. “Yeah,” she mumbled out, unable to say anything else. She was burning, burning from the inside out, unable to take a full breath. 

“Stop, San,” Wooyoung said, voice soft, but the command was evident. “Our pretty girl is floating a little too high right now, and we can’t have that happening just yet.” 

San’s movements stopped entirely, and she huffed, a pout falling onto her face. To her relief, he didn’t pull out, instead gripping her and pulling her hips tightly against his own. “No,” she said, panting for air, trying to calm herself down. “M’okay.”

The coo that came from Wooyoung’s lips was condescending at best, and she closed her eyes as his hand released its grip on her hair, fingers smoothing her hair from her sweat-sticky face. “If you say so.” He chuckled, fingers once again on her face, tracing her pouted lower lip, pulling it down until her teeth showed. “Come back down a little bit, sweetheart. Breathe for us.”

Her eyes fluttered open at the move, doing as he said. One breath, two, her eyes locked with his. They were sparkling, so damn captivating that she almost forgot about San, the only reminder being the flexing of his grip on her. Unable to help herself, she leaned forward. The cock in her shifted, the man behind her groaning. A moan vibrated in her chest, her tongue poking out to brush against the skin pressed against her mouth. Wooyoung’s pupils expanded, dilated, lips parting, ticking up at the corners, as he puffed out a breath. 

“Want something in your mouth, sweetheart? Sannie’s cock filling you up just not enough for you?” 

She nearly trembled at his words, loving the way the words dripped like spiced honey from his lips. “Please.” The word fell from her throat without a single thought, wrapped in a high-pitched moan, and had both men groaning. She could feel the muscles of her pussy gripping at San’s cock, fluttering around him as he remained still. 

San’s grip on her tightened, released, his hands sliding up the length of her back. His nails dragged on her skin when his touch moved back down, pebbling her skin with goosebumps. Her body moved of its own accord, rocking, pushing back to take his cock as deep as possible. 

A slap connected with her thigh, and she cried out at the sting. “Stop moving,” San said, voice low, gruff. 

“Please,” she whimpered out, and hands once again moved over her, tracking up to settle at her waist, gripping tight, tight enough to leave bruises. Her eyes–wide, dazed, desperate–looked up at Wooyoung. She could feel tears threatening to well up. “Fuck me, please.” 

Wooyoung’s fingers traced her parted lips again, head tilting. “You sound so fucking pretty when you beg, sweetheart,” he said, eyes locked on hers. “Doesn’t she, Sannie?” Even when he addressed the other man, he kept looking at her. She felt her skin flush at the attention, felt her pussy clamp down around San’s cock, felt him throb inside of her. 

“So fucking pretty,” San agreed, shifting behind her, pulling her closer as he sat back on his heels so that she was nearly seated in his lap, his cock sliding ridiculously deeper. Her eyes threatened to roll back at the move. 

“What do you think?” Wooyoung asked, eyes leaving her to look at San over her head. “Should we give her what she wants?” 

San hummed. “And what does she want?” 

She whined, head dipping down to rest on the bed, strands of her hair sticking to the fabric of his pants. A thrill rushed through her at the knowledge that he was still fully dressed. That the only parts of his skin that she had seen were what he had already allowed her to see. Fuck, she wanted to see more. Wanted to see him. Wondered what he looked like, what his cock looked like. What it would feel like. Taste like. How nicely it would fill her up. 

Wooyoung’s eyes fell back to her, two fingers tapping at her bottom lip, all her senses settling back on the movement. Her lips parted, and she had to resist the urge to take them into her mouth, wanting the pressure of them against her tongue. “What do you want, sweetheart?” 

“Wanna cum,” she said softly, eyes wide, pleading, as they locked with his own. “Please, wanna cum. Want your fingers in my mouth and want you to watch me make a mess all over Sannie’s cock.” 

“Watch, hmm?” His head tilted, long hair tickling his cheekbones in a way that only made him look sexier in the dim lighting of the bedroom. His fingers tapped her lower lip lightly. “Open up, sweetheart,” he said. 

All too excitedly, she opened her mouth, unable to breath through the moan in her chest as the two digits slid over her tongue. She could taste herself on his skin, and her lashes fluttered when he pressed further into her mouth. She moaned, lips closing around his fingers as she sucked on them. 

“Such a good girl for telling us what you want,” Wooyoung said, his other hand smoothing down her hair. Her eyes fluttered open just in time to see him glancing at San with a smirk. “Let’s give it to her, hmm?” 

“Fuck yes,” San hissed out, gripping her tighter as he leaned over her. His hips pressed tightly against her ass, forcing her back to arch almost painfully, pushing his cock somehow deeper. She whimpered as one of his hands curled around her throat, pulling her head back further. He nosed at her ear with a groan. “Kept my cock warm long enough, hmm? Ready to cum, darling?” 

Her whine echoed around the room as she nodded her head, slightly too enthusiastically, and she gagged lightly on the fingers in her mouth, causing them to retreat just the slightest bit. San’s chest rumbled against her back, his breath puffing out against her neck as he laughed. “Got a little too excited there? Are you okay, darling?”

She hummed, nodding a little more carefully this time, wide eyes locked with Wooyoung’s, practically pleading when he pulled the fingers from her mouth. San hummed and pushed himself up to kneel behind her once again, hips starting up a slow roll. “Words,” San said, soft touch running up her back. “God, so sexy.”

She shivered at his touch, at his words, moaning softly when his nails dragged the length of her skin, hoping there would be some marks left behind for her to admire the next day, hopefully for longer. “M’okay,” she finally breathed out, hips shifting of their own accord. “Please. Fuck me, please.” 

“Sound so pretty begging for Sannie, don’t you?” His fingers, still wet with her spit, trailed her jaw and down her neck. The touch was barely there, almost ticklish, and sent goosebumps along her skin. Her head tilted the best that it could without lifting herself up on her shaky arms, his palm spanning the side of her neck, thumb brushing her throat. “What is it, sweetheart?” 

She huffed as her words died on her tongue, unable to think properly with San’s cock finally gliding through her walls, a whine building up in her throat. Her face burned, throat working as she breathed through the pleasure, face falling into the bed when San gave a sudden sharp thrust. 

“Pull her up, San,” Wooyoung suggested. 

He was quick in following, hands hooking around her arms and hoisting her up into the air. 

“Holy shit,” she moaned out, head tipping back as she clenched around him at the move, at the tightening of his grip on her to keep her in place, at the way the shift in position had her tightening around his cock. The change in angle sent him deeper inside her, and she could barely breathe as he thrust inside her. 

Wooyoung climbed onto the bed to kneel in front of her, and her eyes opened, going right to his face. She watched as his gaze locked on the way her breasts bounced with each thrust before moving up to her bared throat. His hand was there, fingers brushing over the skin lightly as his eyes bore into her own. 

“Is that what you wanted, sweetheart?” he asked, thumb running along her jaw. “A hand around your pretty throat?”

“Plea-” her response was interrupted as she cried out. San let one of her arms go, a sturdy arm going around her waist, just beneath her breasts to hold her up against his front, his thrusts gaining strength, speed. Her body grew hotter as the sounds of his hips snapping against her ass, his deep groans and moans echoed in the room. “Please,” she said again, tears pricking the corners of her eyes as the pleasure grew more and more. 

The pressure on her throat was euphoric, and her eyes rolled back, choked moans spilling from her lips when fingers massaged at her sensitive clit. The sounds coming from her were sharp, almost sobs, as she felt her orgasm growing. “Oh my god, please,” she babbled out, hips moving with San’s. “Wanna cum, please.” 

“Fuck,” San panted in her ear. “Yeah? Such a good girl. Come all over my cock.” 

“Make a mess all over Sannie’s cock, sweetheart.” 

Her lashes fluttered, opened to look at Wooyoung once more. He looked glorious. Skin glistening with a thin layer of sweat, lips parted as his breath puffed out in soft moans. His pants were undone, hand fisting his cock as he watched her falling apart against San. The sight alone made her moan, cry out, sob as her orgasm ripped through her, nails digging into San’s skin. 

The room was spinning as the fingers on her clit pushed her further and further up, a hand fisting in her hair as two sets of moans filled her ears, one deep and gravelly the other more husky and breathy. Both so damn sexy. 

She clenched around San’s cock, heart thumping harshly in her chest as he pistoned in and out of her spasming pussy. The pace was fast, rough. She couldn’t keep up, simply allowing him to use her to satiate his needs. 

“Cum again.” The words were spoken roughly in her ear, the hand on her throat tightening as breathy moans came from in front of her. She wanted to see, to watch Wooyoung finish. But she couldn’t open her eyes. Not with how quickly she was tumbling right back over the edge. Fingers circled her clit quickly, retreating only for a slap to be delivered to her sensitive pussy. “Cum again, dirty girl. I can feel you. So close, hmm? Cum.” Another slap was delivered, and she cried out, back arching, letting the feelings consume her. It only took one more stinging slap to her clit and she was screaming through another orgasm, almost doubling over with the strength of it, with how overwhelming it was as San continued thrusting, the only thing holding her up being his grip on her hair and Wooyoung’s hand at her throat. 

She was floating, barely there as both of them finished. Whining as San withdrew from her, leaving her empty and clenching around nothing as his cum covered her back, slipping down the slope of her ass. Her eyes fluttered open just in time to see Wooyoung throw his head back, the sexiest fucking groan slipping through parted lips as he came all over his hand. 

Heavy breathing filled sex-scented air, a head falling to rest on her shoulder from behind and the hand at her throat sweeping up to brush along her face lightly. Her head was still spinning as the two men settled her belly down onto the soft mattress, whimpering when the warmth at her back disappeared. 

“Hush, sweetheart,” Wooyoung murmured, passing a hand through her hair. “We gotta clean up now. We wouldn’t wanna be all sticky, would we?” 

She hummed in response, letting her eyes flutter closed as he gently massaged her scalp. She let herself drift, groggy and sated, not even responding when a warm cloth was passed over her skin, cleaning the cum from her. She barely registered the shuffling on the mattress as the two men switched places. 

“Darling, you gotta get up.” San said softly, brushing the backs of his fingers over her cheek, pushing strands of her hair behind her ear. “We need to get some water and a snack into you and clean you up a bit.”

Rora whined in response, but fluttered her eyes open to look up at him. His face was still red, expression soft, dimples threatening to peek out. “Should I leave after?” She asked despite the way her chest went heavy with just the thought. Her brows were furrowed, fingers messing with the wrinkled blanket under her, grogginess leaving her as her heart sped up in her chest. For whatever reason, she really didn’t want to leave

“Only if you want to,” he replied, hands running along her spent body to help her sit up. She winced as she moved, cheeks warming as her spent muscles stretched, a dull throbbing between her legs. “You okay?” he asked, chuckling softly as her face twisted, a pout settling on her lips. 

“M’fine,” she mumbled, rubbing her red cheeks. Her eyes shifted to the doorway when she saw movement from the corner of her eyes, seeing Wooyoung standing there with a glass of water in hand. 

“Drink up,” Wooyoung said, settling on her other side and passing the glass over to her. “Then we can go look for some food and talk about if we want this to just be a one time thing or not.”

xii: spreading warmth

“Do you want to come over later?” Mingi asked, voice pitched low, like he didn’t want to break the comfortable silence of the morning. 

A shiver worked down her spine as his hand swept up the length of her side, sliding back down to settle in the dip of her waist, fingers tapping above her hip. She relaxed further into the sheets, shifting to lay more on her stomach, leg hitching up to relieve the pressure in her lower back, cheek pressing into the pillow so she could see his face. His eyes were closed, still swollen with sleep, his lips pouted with the way a flushed cheek was flattened against the pillow beneath his head. 

Wanting to be a little closer, she shifted again, turning to face him. The move tangled her even further in the blanket, but the warmth of his skin against her own was enough to drown out the discomfort. One of his eyes peeked open, the corners of his plush lips ticking up in a small smile. “Hi-a, dollie,” he rumbled, arm sliding around her again, hand finding home on her lower back to keep her close, pressed together from hip to chest, legs tangling. “You avoiding my question?” The question could have come across as confrontational, maybe as wanting to start an argument, blunt as it was. But his voice was warm, stilted and gravely with lingering sleep. 

She shook her head, letting her own arm slide around his waist as she settled her cheek against the pillow he was using. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, having decided to sleep in his boxers. His skin warm beneath her touch, goosebumps raising as her fingers spread out to take in as much of his warmth as possible. “Thinking,” she murmured, letting her eyes flutter closed again as his breath fanned over her face. It wasn’t pleasant by any means, and it made her giggle, ducking her head down to burrow into his neck instead. “Got all that stuff from the store yesterday and didn’t think to get you a toothbrush?”

“Couldn’t think about anything but making sure you were alright,” he admitted, voice rich with amusement and a hand smoothing over the back of her head. 

“I’m sorry,” she said. 

“Why are you apologizing?”

“I feel bad for making you worried.” She swallowed around the lump in her throat, willing it away, willing the sudden swelling of emotions to leave her alone. 

“Baby, you don’t have to apologize for how I responded in a situation you couldn’t properly control.” His hand came up to her cheek, thumb brushing along her cheekbone as he coaxed her from her hiding spot in his neck. “Look at me, dollie.”

Her eyes fluttered open. His eyes, though still weighted with sleep, were intense as they looked at her.

“There you are,” he murmured, leaning closer to rub his nose against hers. “Did you hear me, baby? You don’t have to apologize. Never. Not for feeling. Not for needing help. Okay?”

She nodded.

“Give me your words, doll.”

“I understand, Mingi,” she murmured, face blazing under his gaze.

“Good girl,” he drawled, lips parting in an adorably smug smile when a shiver worked through her. “How about you work from home today and come with me to the cafe? Would that be an option? Then we can circle back to whether you wanna come home with me or not later?”

“I always have the option to work from home. I just never take it cause I'm more productive in the office.” She paused, letting her gaze move over him, letting herself sink further into his presence. Her lips curled up into an indulgent little smile as she curled a hand over the back of his neck, letting her fingers play with the hair at his nape. “But I guess I can make an exception for my baby, hmm?”

His cheeks were suddenly dusted with pink. “Your baby?”

Rora hummed. “Do you like that?” she asked, hand sliding more firmly into his hair, lips sliding along his cheek. She felt him shudder against her, heard the catch in his breath, the groan sounding in his chest. “Like being mine?”

Another groan rumbled beneath her fingers as they slid over the swelling muscles of his chest. “Fuck,” he gasped out, head tipping back when her lips pressed soft kisses down the column of his throat. “Yeah.”

A giggle bubbled past her lips before she could stop it, and she tried to smother it by nipping at his collarbone. She had never been one to take control in a sexual setting. Even if the moment wasn’t entirely sexual (yet), it had arousal and new feelings swirling away in her brain. “Can I make you feel good, Mingi baby?” she asked, hands sliding down his side, fingers curling around his hip. 

“Please,” he said, voice low and breathless. 

She pushed him, rolling him to lay on his back. He went with no resistance, a whine catching in his throat when she swung a leg over his waist to straddle him. He was hardening beneath her, tenting his boxers, stomach tensing and flexing beneath her fingers. “Look at you,” she murmured, tracing the lines of his muscles with her nails. “So pretty like this.”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed. Large hands gripped her sheets, so tight his knuckles turned white. “Pretty?” he rasped out. 

“So fucking pretty, baby,” she said, lowering her hips so that the line of his cock nestled snuggly against her cunt through the layers of her sleep shorts and his boxers. Her hips rolled, a slow grind that made him moan, his head digging back into the pillow beneath him, revealing more of the tempting line of his throat. She ignored the urge to litter the skin with kisses and marks in favor of sneaking a hand between them. His cock twitched beneath her touch, so fucking hot and heavy in her hand as she pulled it out through the hole of his boxers. “But you look even prettier when you cum for me. You wanna cum for me, baby?”

“Yes!” The word tumbled from his lips frantically, cheeks going red. “Wanna cum for you, doll, please.”

“How do you want to cum?” she asked. “Should I just grind on you? Should I fuck you, baby?” 

“Fuck me. Fuck me, please,” he whined. “Wanna feel your cunt again. Best fucking cunt I ever felt.”

The words had her clenching around nothing, and she wasted no time pushing her shorts (blessedly oversized) aside to press directly against his cock, grinding down to hear just how wet she had already gotten. “Can you reach the drawer, baby? Get me the lube?”

He sat up, twisted to reach for the bedside table, fingers fumbling clumsily as she continued to work over his cock. He had to pause, eyes closing and moaning when his head caught at her entrance. Cursing, he reached inside the drawer to fish out the bottle of lubricant. Half empty and cherry flavored. “Had you figured more of a peach or strawberry kind of person,” Mingi joked, coming to lay back down as he handed the bottle over. 

“I am,” she said with a shrug. “It was on sale and I was in desperate need of my biggest toy and an orgasm.”

“Biggest toy?”

“Needed a good stretch,” she murmured, turning the bottle upside down to dribble the lube right over his cock, using her cunt in place of her hand to spread it around. “You gonna give me a good stretch, baby? Gonna let me split myself open with your big cock?” 

The head caught at her entrance again, and his hands came up to grip her thighs. Strong fingers kneaded at the skin as she started to work herself down his length. It felt like forever and no time at all by the time she was fully seated on his lap, head dipping back on her shoulders at being so full. She paused a minute, enjoying the way his cock throbbed and twitched inside her walls. The way he whimpered and gripped at her skin, nails digging into her thighs, every muscle in his body pulled taut as he took in the sensations. 

“Fuck,” he choked out as her hands slid up his torso, cupping his pecs in her hands, squeezing just tight enough that her nails dug into his skin, pebbling nipples brushing against her palms until he arched up into her touch with a gasp.

She remained firmly seated against him, hips swirling in tight circles that had him biting back moans of her name. “Sit up for me, baby,” she instructed softly. He did as she said, sitting up and shuffling back to lean against the pillows. “Good boy,” she purred, tangling her fingers in his hair and tugging until his neck was arched beautifully. 

“Oh god,” he rumbled, shivering, cock twitching inside her. 

“Can I mark you up, Mingi? Show everyone your mine, hmm?”

His next whine sounded strangled, but he was nodding against her grip in his hair. A little bounce came to her hips, as if in reward for his compliance, and his grip on her tightened again, large hands coming to hold her hips so tightly she was sure he would try to gain some control of the situation. Instead, he whined again, went pliant beneath her. She couldn’t stop the next “good boy” that fell from her lips even if she wanted to. 

She kissed, licked, bit at the strong line of his neck, sucked marks into his throat and collarbones, leaned down to roll her tongue over his nipples until he was trembling. He just let her do what she wanted, moaning and twitching beneath her. “Come on, baby. Be good and cum for me, hmm?” she said, sitting up, nails digging into his shoulders. 

“Close,” he choked out, head thrown back against the wall. 

That had her riding him in earnest, hand sliding around the back of his neck to push her fingers into his hair again as she bounced in his lap. He was shaking under her, muscles clenching tight, eyes squeezed shut. One last swirl of her hips, and he moaned so loudly, so brokenly, that she smothered it with a kiss. She milked him of every last bit of his cum, hips grinding and her cunt squeezing around him until he was whimpering barely formed pleas into her mouth. 

Mingi’s arms came around her and the world spun as he rolled them over. She huffed as the air was knocked from her lungs, giggled when he buried his face in her neck to press little kisses into her sweaty skin. His full weight was on her, his skin hot and sweaty against her own. It was suffocating, in a way, but she didn’t mind it entirely. Soothing his still shaking body with soft touches and kisses to the top of his head, even though his hair continuously tickled her nose. 

“Mingi baby, we gotta shower and get you to work,” she said, smoothing a hand down the length of his back. 

He huffed, hot breath fanning against her neck. But he shifted up onto his elbows, holding himself above her. “You’re going with me, right?”

“Yes,” she said, leaning up to plant a kiss on his pouty mouth.

HIs eyes went wide and sparkly, a dopey grin in place. But something seemed to finally click. She watched his face absolutely fall, brows furrowing and eyes turning sad. “You didn’t cum,” he blurted. He looked genuinely distraught about it, sounded it too, voice a mere scrap of sound. 

“Oh, baby. It’s okay,” she soothed, trying not to laugh and make him feel worse. “I didn’t want to. This time was all about you.”

“But-” 

She cut him off with a kiss, pulling him down until his whine turned into a sigh against her mouth. “It’s okay, Mingi,” she murmured, rubbing gentle circles into the skin of his shoulders. “Why don’t you message Yunho and have him bring you some clothes to change into for the day while I see if I have an extra toothbrush for you.”  

There wasn’t an extra toothbrush, and she made a mental note (and one in her notes app) to purchase some for the next time one of them wanted to stay the night. Thankfully, Yunho didn’t seem to mind bringing Mingi’s for him alongside some clothes for him to change into. 

The shower was quick. Or, well, as quick as could be with a gentle giant that wants nothing more than to cuddle and sneak kisses 

The tall man was going about the motions to open the cafe when they stepped inside, back to them as he scrubbed at a difficult spot on a table. The button-up he donned stretched tight over his back and shoulders, creasing with each frustrated swipe of his hand, a huff falling from his lips before he moved on to another table. He barely looked up as he started wiping the new surface down, calling out to Mingi that his clothes were in the back. 

Mingi dipped his head to brush a kiss over her forehead, murmuring that he’d be back before scurrying to the back of the store.

She let herself just watch Yunho. The way he went about the motions of something that, no doubt, had long-since become routine to him. The way his tall frame moved about the space. Quick, but not rushed. Elegant in a way, taking long strides between tables, stretching and folding in a way that seemed to mimic a choreographed dance. 

Until it wasn’t. She watched him trip over a chair with a sigh. Saw him fumble with some napkins, huffing when some tumbled to the floor. Watched how the sheer height of him folded nearly in half and he bent down to pick up the floor, muttering quiet (what she guessed were) curses to himself. 

He startled when he straightened, eyes wide and mouth falling open when he spotted her by the entrance, cardigan slung over one arm and bag threatening to fall from her shoulder. Finally. His ears went bright red where they peeked out from his hair, and she couldn’t help but laugh. “I wondered how long it would take for you to look up,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“Mingi didn’t tell me you were coming,” he said, nearly stumbling over his words. 

“Coming? Not yet, anyway,” she joked, letting her fingers drag along the strap of the laptop bag slung across her chest. 

His eyes followed the movement, the red of his ears now dusting his cheeks and nose. “Please don’t be here to torture me all day.” He all but groaned the words, wide eyes pleading but a smile threatening to overtake his face. 

“Torture you? Of course not, Yuyu,” she said, tilting her head. “Might torture Mingi, though.”

The smile finally won out, and his face brightened, cheeks lifting and eyes crinkling at the edges. “You’re certainly in a mood today, huh?” he said, tongue darting out to swipe over his bottom lip. 

“You can blame Mingi for that,” she said, letting herself finally walk over to him. 

“Yeah?” he asked, chest rumbling with laughter as he pulled her into his arms. She snuggled right in, arms going around his middle and head ducking to bury her face in his chest, his chin resting atop her hair. “What’d he do?”

“Look so fucking cute beneath me,” she murmured out, relaxing into his hold. 

“Oh, shit,” Yunho chuckled. “He let you top?”

“Mhm,” she hummed, practically purred, cheek rubbing against his chest. 

“And it’s gone right to your head, hmm?” His hand cupped the back of her head, fingers sliding into her hair to massage her scalp. “Was it a first for you?”

“I’ve had moments where I’d be in control, but never the whole time. And never like…that.” 

He ducked down, lips brushing the shell of her ear. “You should try it with Yeosangie next,” Yunho whispered, like it was a secret. Like he wasn’t supposed to tell her. The mischievous grin curling the ends of his lips when she pulled back to look up at his face gave that away immediately. 

“Sangie?” 

“He would not stop talking about last weekend. On and on about you and Jongho and how fucking hot the whole thing was. Especially about how hot it was when you took over at the end to make him cum.” His voice dropped the longer he talked, becoming a mere rasp in her ears that sent shivers right down her spine. “I think he’d like it a lot if it happened again, honey.”

His hand slid down to grip her hips, pulling her flush against his front. She felt him, cock hardening in his pants. Felt the warmth of him through the layers of their clothes. “You’re hard, Yuyu,” she purred, fingers curling in the fabric of the button-up, wrinkling the pressed fabric beneath her touch. “Would you like it too?”

He groaned, hand fisting her hair tight, lips smothering her gasp before it could escape her. “You could fucking try, honey,” he said against her mouth. “But I’d fuck that attitude right back out of you.”

A moan bubbled up her throat before she could stop it.

“Gone for ten minutes, and you’re both already almost fucking in the lobby,” a raspy voice tsked, words practically dripping with amusement. “Did you forget that you have work soon, Yuyu?”

Rora whined, high-pitched and sticking in her throat, when Yunho pulled away. He laughed, a low rumbling sound that warmed her chest, thumb swiping over her saliva-slicked lower lip. “Hush, honey,” he said. Soft, amused eyes looked over her no doubt flushed face. Then, he kissed the furrow between her eyebrows. “You have all day to get more kisses. But Mingi’s right. We have to open the store.”

“Of course I’m right,” Mingi said. He sounded pouty, grumbly. But when she looked over at him, his lips were curved with smugness and his eyes were glowing in the morning sunlight coming in through the windows. 

They ushered her over to a table. A cute little two-seater in a corner that allowed for a view of the whole place. Right by a window for natural light and sightseeing when she gets bored, but with a wall next to it so she could charge her laptop when she would inevitably need to. They pushed her down into a chair with cooed words and pats to her head, pulling her cardigan from her grasp to drape over the back of her chair. Even pulling her laptop from her back and setting it on the table. She let them dote on her, smiling and relaxing back into the chair with her arms crossed over her chest. Maybe she should be fighting them on it, arguing that she could find a table and get settled in by herself while they finished opening. Knew that these behaviours could probably come off as a bit overbearing to others. 

But she would be lying if she said she didn’t like it. She liked the way these men pampered her in little ways. Made sure she knew she had their attention and she didn’t have to fight for it. That they just gave their time and affection without even so much as a grumble of annoyance. They genuinely seemed to enjoy having her around, having her in their company. All of them did. Though, the whole situation was still very new and that could maybe change in the future, but for now she would enjoy it. Would enjoy the little touches, the kisses, the murmured praises and affirmations. 

They left her to her own devices after at least five minutes of lingering kisses and whispered promises to check in later. There was no need for promises, not when she would be right there the whole time, but she appreciated them nonetheless. Giggling when Mingi played it up, shoulder slouched and head bowed and face especially pouty when he looked back at her over his shoulder before helping Yunho finish where he left off. 

She didn’t get to work right away, though. Instead, choosing to watch them finish their opening tasks. They were doing the most mundane things. Sweeping the floors of any debris that could have accumulated overnight. Wiping down the tables and counters to a gleam. Ensuring napkins and condiments and to-go cups and containers were stocked and ready for use. Simple, everyday things that she herself had done in the past. 

But something about the scene made her heart flutter in her chest. 

The two of them moved about the space with such ease. They moved around each other with such familiarity and comfort. Like they knew each other inside and out. Like they knew what the other was thinking, what their next move would be. And in the context of getting through something as typical and mundane as an opening checklist - yeah, it makes sense. But there was something more to it. Something that had her feeling both comforted and somber. 

They moved together in a way that she had always longed to share with at least one other person. She didn’t know if she believed in the concept of soulmates or fate or destiny, but she had no doubt that these two were soulmates. Closer than friends. Closer than family. Closer even than some romantic partners she had seen. These two, but also all eight of these glorious men she had come to know. 

She had never had that for herself. Had only ever had one best friend. Had only ever had two other romantic partners. Didn’t have any siblings. No one that she could claim as another part of herself, as a missing piece of her heart or her other half or… 

Hopefully, someday, they could be those people for her, even if this arrangement doesn’t continue as it currently was. She hoped that no matter what might happen down the line, they could all remain friends because she wasn’t sure, even so early into the relationship, that she would be able to continue fully herself without them. 

She shook her head and took a deep breath to bring herself back to the present. It was no use thinking about an uncertain future. It would only bring her down. She startled when both Yunho and Mingi braced their hands on the table, ignoring how it wobbled beneath their combined weights as they leaned forward, bumping shoulders when they pressed twin kisses to each of her cheeks. 

She giggled, eyes suspiciously wet when she blinked. 

“Do you want a drink, honey? Coffee, maybe? Water?” Yunho asked.

“Coffee would be wonderful,” she said, sniffling discreetly. “It might help me focus a bit more on my work.”

“What kind?”

“What’s your favorite?” she asked, leaning closer to him, fingers tapping on the lid of her laptop. “Surprise me?”

He nodded and was off behind the counter before she could even blink, Mingi trailing behind him, throwing her a little smile over his shoulder before he disappeared into the kitchen. An amused sigh fell from her lips before she could stop it. But instead of watching them, she decided to get a start on her work too. 

She was responding to an email when Yunho came back, setting an iced coffee drink on the table with a kiss to the top of her head. She was pleasantly surprised when she took a sip to find it to be sweet and milky, and she looked up to shoot Yunho an arched brow. She hadn’t expected him to like sweet drinks, but upon second thought, it fit him. A sweet drink for a sweet man. He responded with a smile and a quick wink that had her cheeks warming pleasantly.

The store filled up in no time, customers filing in and out to mark the passing of time. It was a steady trickle of people, most that she figured must be regulars with how they ordered and casually made their way to the back. No doubt to find a cozy place to sit and read their favorite comics for a few hours. 

It was approaching noon when Jongho sent her a hey, how are you? message. Rather than respond, she decided to call him. 

The line rang twice before he answered, confusion clear in his voice even as it sounded like the embodiment of comfort. “Hey,” he said. 

“Hey,” she said, laughing lightly. “Are you having your lunch?” she asked. 

“Yeah,” he said, slightly breathless. “Are you okay? You didn’t come in today, so I was a little worried.”

“Yes,” she said. “I’m fine, promise. Mingi asked if I could work from home. Or, well, from the cafe.” 

Jongho hummed, the line crackling as he did something, then his voice was right back in her ear, sending delighted little shivers down her spine. “I’m glad you’re alright,” he said. “And that Mingi is taking such good care of you.” 

“He is,” she assured, absentmindedly twirling a strand of her hair around her finger. “He wants me to come home with him later.”

“Really?” 

“Mhm. Should I?” She asked like she didn’t already know her answer. Then, she forced herself to get back to work. Like she hadn’t already known that she could never say no to Mingi, not when he had such a hopeful expression. 

“Why are you asking me?” he asked, chuckling, a low, warm sound that had her brain nearly short-circuiting. “That’s entirely up to you, precious.”

“Just pooling opinions,” she joked lightly. 

“You probably should,” he said. “Otherwise, he’ll just whine about it for the rest of time.”

She giggled. “Oh no, we can’t have that!”

Jongho sighed, dramatic and entirely forlorn. “I gotta get back to work,” he said. “Talk to you later, okay?”

“Please,” she murmured. “Bye, bear.”

“Bye, baby.” 

Then the call was over, his final words still ringing in her ear, her chest soso warm and fluttery she felt like she could start floating. 

Headphones on, laptop plugged in, she let herself get lost in her work until Yunho and Mingi closed for their lunches. That took about an hour, and she hadn’t even realized they had closed the store until a sandwich was placed in front of her computer, a pretty colored drink settling beside it, and Mingi was folding his tall self into the other chair at the table. 

And fuck, if it didn’t look good. Her stomach grumbled, reminding her that she and Mingi had skipped breakfast that morning. 

“Did you think about whether you want to come over or not?” he asked. 

“I think I want to,” she said, blinking at him, fingers wrapping around the carefully wrapped food. “I just need to go home to get some clothes for work tomorrow.”

“Jongho can swing by and take you when he gets off work, if you want,” Mingi suggested, already pulling out his phone and typing away at it. 

“M’yeah,” she murmured, noncommittal as she dove into the food given to her. The sound she made at the first bite was obscene, to say the least, and sent Mingi into a fit of laughter that had him nearly tumbling off his seat. She jumped up at that, food nearly sticking in her throat at the fright of it even as he continued to laugh. “Calm down before you hurt yourself, Mingi baby,” she said, voice so pouty even she could hear it. 

He was still shaking with laughter when he leaned into her space, bumping her with his shoulder and dipping down to press a quick kiss to her cheek. “Don’t get too upset or I just might think you care, doll,” he joked. 

Rora blinked, turned to look up at his face. “I do care,” she said.