#hwaightme

[f] fluff || [s] smut || [a] angst || [sugg] suggestive || [tw] trigger warnings ||

[misc] miscellaneous || [hc] headcanons

ot8 series and headcanons

your fan, _____ [f] [sugg] - series with separate ml bf!ateez when you are working from home [f] [s] ateez as signs of love (relationship hcs) [f]

kim hongjoong

the chemistry of christmas [f] [sugg] (ao3) motivate me [s] (ao3) rewind and remix [a] a little bit of [f] avaritia [s] feverish [f] [misc] in the rain [f] hand hug [f] in your eyes [s] [f]

park seonghwa

after hours on christmas eve [f] (ao3) feels like home (part 1) (part 2) [f] [sugg] [a]  (ao3) family for hire (series - separate ml) [f] [sugg] [misc] long exposure [s] [a] [misc] ft. wooyoung in memoriam [a] [s] bang bang [s] [misc] -> mafia!au love was spring [f] [slight a] making wishes [s] [f] ft. wooyoung this world [f] [s] [misc] -> biker!au take me back [s] [f] [slight a] -> biker!au cat named mars [f] [hc] -> catboy!hwa bonnie on the side [s] [a] essence [f] timezone [f] [slight a] page me [f] [festive fic!] impressionism [f] [misc] with you [f] [misc] [a] both [s] [f] feel alive [f] [a] [misc] panacea [f] [misc] dawn [s] [misc] my star [f] i will wait [f] lone soul [f] [misc] 03:10 AM [f] [timestamp]

jeong yunho

come fly with me [f] [slight a] [misc] all of me [f] the meaning of 'jeong' [f] [a] [misc] like the cherry blossom falls [f] guy.exe [f] 23:13 PM [f]

kang yeosang:

curiosity [tw] [misc] sangshine [f] [misc] bung-yeo-ppang [f]

song mingi:

use me [s] [a] (ao3) use me part 2 [s] [a] [f] one new message [a] burning [f] [misc]

choi san:

wilting to bloom [a] safe and san [s] [f] golden hour [s] [f]

jung wooyoung:

grilled cheese philosophy [a] [tw] [misc] long exposure [s] [a] [misc] ft. seonghwa making wishes [s] [f] ft. seonghwa

choi jongho:

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dating Seonghwa was as easy as breathing, he fell into you like a missing puzzle piece and wamed your heart like a ray of sunshine on a cloudy day. He was there in the time you were studying for your degree and you were there as he and his group traveled across your home, attending his performances was something you had always promised to do whenever you could. He made sure to be there when you had graduated and you made sure that you were at the show for his birthday.

You had moved in together some time ago as you could never be away from each other long enough to keep your own place. Your home was cozy and minimal, it had lego displays and Star Wars memorabilia, a sofa big enough fo every member and yourself in the living space with a tv made for watching movies. The coffee table adorned with “The Star Wars Archives” “Star Wars Art.” and “Cabinet of Natural Curriosities.” A turntable adorned a corner of the room with speakers. Art hung on the wall, some you created, some you both had purchased from art fairs. The color palette was cooler, soft blacks and whites, a few accents of emerald and a pop of gold. Seonghwa had liked it for the rich vibes it gave him. You both had worked hard to make it into a home, this was your home. You remind each other it could be a cardboard box and it’d feel like home if you were together.

After what felt like Seonghwa being gone forever you both had settled on a date night, and while all your outdoor plans had been rained out or cancelled due to the weather you could still make the most of it. Grabbing umbrellas and ponchos you head to the local department store to pick up a few things, a lego set, snacks, a book or two, a puzzle, and a movie to potentially watch later.

“Okay I’ll start organizing the pieces into categories.” you said sitting at the now cleared off coffee table lego box open.

“Okay I’ll see where we should start.” Seonghwa smiled at you.

Lego building always starts peaceful but about halfway through you both are arguing if that’s the correct piece or if it’s actually the piece you’re holding because it looks more like the picture that way, you decide to make hot chocolate to get away from him and cool off because after all it is a silly argument, Lego building is very serious in this household, just ask your cat…also named Lego. The sweetest little black kitten with the brightest roud boba eyes. Seonghwa as a cat as you describe to your friends.

After your adventures in lego building you decide to do something a little active to wake up so maybe a few rounds of Just Dance, or as Hwa suggested a Youtube tutorial on aerobics. Then of course neither of you could decide on reading or the puzzle so you decide to snuggle up on the sofa and he reads to you while you lean against him, adjusting his glasses when they start sliding off his face since his arms are too full of you to keep them on his nose. You journey back to the lego building but of course you become distracted when Lego begins chasing the light reflected off your phone onto the floor. Your giggles becoming his favorite sound on the planet.

As the date night came to a close you made his favorites for dinner, a proper feast even. He held you close as you cleaned the kitchen and began waltzing with you as if in one of those old time movies with the big poofy dresses and gloves, him in a three piece suit. In reality you’re both in glasses and pajamas laughing as you stumble around the kitchen and listen to him humming. Finally settling in for the night back on the couch watching Kiki’s Delivery Service.

“Maybe we should get Lego, a Jiji.” Seonghwa smiled down at you.

“You sure you can handle two cats and a girlfriend Hwa?” you smiled back slightly.

“Well I’d have you to help out now wouldn’t I.” he pinched you slightly. You yelpped out in surprise.

“Yah! Park Seonghwa!” you hit him with a pillow.

“What’s like without a little spontaneity” he smiled and held your arms above your head before crashing his lip down on yours.

Lego jumped up on the table and let out a mighty roar. A tiny baby meow that stopped you both in your tracks.

“Yes sir Lego?” Seonghwa looked at the kitten who has yelled at his father.

“I think he said ‘Stop attacking mom.’” you chuckled from under the love of your life.

“She did start it Lego.” Hwa chuckled and scooped the kitten into his arms.

“Okay maybe we do need another cat since I now have no cat and no cuddles Hwa.” you pout gently.

“Well then, my little witch needs her Jiji doesn’t she?” he smiled and passed Lego into your arms and held you both close. “See this works much better doesn’t it.”

“It does……..PARK SEONGHWA!” you practically launched the kitten across the sofa and turned to hit the man who once again has found it in his enjoyment to torture his poor significant other while the cuddle on the couch.

“Have I ever told you how much I loved you.” he smiled as he stared into your eyes like they held the stars in the sky. 

“You could stand to mention it more now that you’re here.” you stuc your tongue out at him.

“I love you very much darling. Very. Very. Much.” he emphasized each very with a kiss to your lips. 

“You’ve now distracted me through the whole movie.” you chuckle and push him up gently.

“Alright alright, I give.” he sat back up and let you get comfortable.

It wasn’t long before the warmth of the blanket mixed with you partner in crime, a soft movie, and full stomach from too many snacks and tea began to drift you off to sleep.

“I do love you very very much my darling.” Seonghwa kissed the top of your head as you breathed peacefully without a care in the world.  Yes dating Seonghwa was as easy as breathing.

Bonus:

You awoke the next morning, it still dark and damp from the non-stop rain of the night, the soft patter on the window, Seonghwa arrived with a coffee just how you like it and his laptop under his arm.

“Good Morning Darling.” he smiled softly as you sat up and took the coffee.

“Mmm Mornin’ ” you mumbled.

“I was browsing for our very own Jiji this morning while I was waiting for your coffee to finish, I think I found the perfect one. Sure she’s not a black cat like the movie but-”

⚫ nsfw tags: daddy/baby girl dynamic, sugar daddy, reader is a 'doll', soft dom!hj (literally cannot stay mad at mc), overstimulation (seriously what is hj doing to mc...), fingering, mile high club, blowjob, deepthroating, dacryphilia, possessiveness, dirty talk, sex on a desk, unprotected sex (wrap that before you tap that) ⚫ playlist recs: Five Star Hotels by RAYE | Sugar Daddy by Qveen Herby | SAD GIRLZ LUV MONEY Remix by Amaarae | Greed by Shreea Kaul | Mile High by Salina Killa | Do I Move You? by Nina Simone | Money Power Glory by Lana Del Rey

Why was it that when real business was being discussed, the location of choice was always the most extravagant, exotic, luxurious oasis? Everything about the resort screamed unaffordable. 'Exclusive' written in blood on the pristine white sands, only to be washed away by azure blue waves to colour sea foam you could swear was whipped up in a divine patisserie. A perverse flavour inaccessible to the majority but driving the decisions that ruled the world. It was challenging to not become partial to the taboo indulgence when it was handed to you on a silver platter together with a tailor-made career. Anyone would need to acclimatise to what most considered a distant fantasy, but a few flights on a private jet later did wonders in curing the delirium of the average and introducing an insatiable materialism.

Thus, you were not particularly bothered when your boss requested you book another retreat to a private resort in the middle of the ocean - considering the business's cash flow and offshore 'pocket money', this was not too different from your routine trip to the cafe down the street to get his 'coffee' - more sugar than caffeine but this was a secret that you were to keep to the grave; it was written in small print on your contract. It was easy to book when you just needed to send out a few messages to staff and drop a name to any external service people at the right time. Their reaction, stuttering and need for clarification never failed to be amusing; even the most outrageous demands gained appeal once the won, euro, dollars, whatever they wanted from the global wallet, began to stack up. Green bills, green trees - in a twisted way, these boys who liked to play the role of the all-seeing and all mighty were farmers too. And fruits of their labour were always the sweetest.

Sure, you worked hard and had your own path that you could have followed. Even had a degree to prove that you had at least an ounce of dedication. But what would it give you, in fact, what did it give you before your renaissance? Crumbs. Sheer crumbs, student debt and a chronic migraine. But as it turned out, a couple hundred k did wonders when it came to personal health and wellbeing. And on top of that, the myriad of other benefits that your current lifestyle had, had the ability to crush any argument and accusation hurled in your direction, of which you had many. You had figured out soon enough that diamonds were your real best friend, while those who you had considered your ride or die evaporated as soon as they saw you wearing designer. And that had been when the best you could ask for was old collections, and widely available products. You were not lonely. You had too many hats to wear, and a very demanding man, by the name of Kim Hongjoong, to entertain. And one who currently had his eyebrows furrowed, a couple of unruly strands of hair perking up out of his otherwise slick business ‘do, glasses barely holding onto the tip of his beautifully sculpted nose, and was leafing through the papers he had asked you to prepare for the duration of the flight.

For the CEO of a global company, and the heir to an even larger network, he sure as hell was incredibly young. You did not envy his turmoil and exposure to stress one bit, almost feeling sorry and in part guilty, since percentages of his spendings were technically lost on you. There had even been instances when you found yourself sat in a dark room, laptop screen aglow and on a blank page, with you wondering how one crafted a resignation paper. But once you and Hongjoong could have even a couple of moments alone, when he would ravish you, make and call you his and reveal to you all the things he had planned that could not be reflected on his calendar, that document would be promptly deleted and recycle bin emptied. Your ‘relationship’ had been this way since the one meeting, in his main office, on a bright and early morning.

He had called you up into his office and simply told you that he had another ‘job opportunity’ for you. At that point you had been desperate, with financial problems endlessly piling up, from debt to your family’s hospital fees to bailing your estranged brother out of prison. And to make things unethical – Hongjoong had known this. He had done his research – more specifically, he had asked some colleagues in his company, ones who you would never suspect, to snoop around and find out more about you. And as it turned out, you were the perfect candidate for ‘being treated right’ by him, while bearing the title and carrying out the formal façade of secretary and personal assistant duties. In his practice, as well as his father’s and partners’, this was probably the most stable relationship they would ever get in life, so might as well be picky.

Initially, you had simply become a receiver of gifts. Pretending like this was Hongjoong’s love language, you were touched and did not think much of it. Maybe through these purchases he was moving money in ways it should not be moved, but you could not care less – not your problem, not your area of expertise, you had the outcome, and the outcome was something like a crocodile leather bag or a dress fresh off the runway. Hongjoong had insisted on picking every single item out for you, letting his controlling executive side win over. He had explained that you had to look like ‘the prettiest doll in the world’ for him, and for that he needed to check for quality. After a couple of months, however, such sugary sweet presents had been reserved for special occasions, and for the rest, money was wired directly to a new, account, a platinum card he had opened for you and given you. To just step into the consultation room with his portfolio manager and private banking consultant had felt like you were cheating existence. You had been a lowly assistant to an assistant before. And now, decked out in Dior, were sat beside one of the most influential men in the modern era of this industry, letting him hand you eye-watering sums as if it was a couple of coins for a pack of gum.

Now, well, now you were conflicted. As months had turned into a year and were now approaching the two-year mark if you could remember correctly, your ‘relationship’ had started to feel more and more like a real one. Hongjoong had caught himself divulging details of experiences that he had never spoken about with anyone before. And nowadays, when you had sex, it felt less like a mindless fuck and more like making love, with the man expressing more than he ever could with every hot touch, press of his lips to yours, even his lustful intensity had gained a new colour. You could feel that he was confused, but would not dare let go of you – you knew that he put your name down on some very important documents, after all. As such, it was a rare but unbelievable pleasure to push Hongjoong’s buttons and get him all riled up for you, just so he could expel that pressure and that tension from a busy work day out on you. You were that caring of a personal assistant. And wanted him to keep on talking. Keep on telling you his deepest darkest secrets. You wanted to be a part of him, the hedonistic side, the one that seized the day and knew how to enjoy the earthly realm without counting and fighting.

For the flight to the resort and extended series of meetings with key business partners, you had chosen to wear an outfit that you knew Hongjoong was unravelled by. It was a black and white Prada poplin mini dress that did wonders to accentuate your curves and edges, and was paired with some classic, black leather, So Kate Louboutin heels and gold accessories to match the dainty little buttons on the dress. Really, this was dress number two since the last one had been quite literally torn off you by none other than your boss, but he did not want to ruin the night and as such, had promised to contact the house of fashion itself to get an exact replica of the limited edition garment. And this man kept his promises. But right now, even though you were sat in the private office in his jet, with the bodyguards safely outside, lounging and doing whatever bodyguards did to occupy themselves, he was not paying attention to you at all. Only winding himself up more with those compiled quarterly reports that you were now regretting having finalised them and bringing them at all. What was the worst that you would have gotten had you not done the task? A spanking? Oh, how scary… you have had it rougher on a casual and uneventful day. Now you needed to get creative to get his attention, and being needy would not do. So very slowly, gazing out of the window at the clouds your were drifting past, you crossed your legs, revealing the legendary red bottoms of the heels you were wearing, and reached for the notebook and pen that were just peeking out of your handbag. Unbeknownst to you, you already had his attention with your abrupt change of pattern. Normally you would be on your phone, or typing away on your laptop, even remaining idle would be more characteristic, so Hongjoong’s interest was piqued by the little planner that contained all your thoughts and actions. He slouched back in his seat, and raised he papers a little higher, so that he could steal glances at you more discreetly.

You were paying no mind to what your boss was up to, preoccupied by the cream pages and the visualisation of the figure in front of you, but in your mind. Sometimes, when work was slow, you had taken to doodling random people around the office, as well as sketching out a variety of landscapes that took your fancy. Though the main subject was always Hongjoong. You had gotten quite good at picturing his facial features and depicting them even in a few lines, catching his micro expressions and shift in body language. There were also a couple of drawings you had done with him as a live model, though he was asleep and in the nude, so no one was ever going to know about that – you had stashed them away in a safe hidden behind the drawers of your desk. It only made sense that he was in most of your drawings: after all, he was the man who had bestowed upon you such unimaginable riches and a quality of life so drastically improved, that you had no choice but to worship him. He had made you who you were now. A shining diamond.

And this shining diamond was a little too bright for him to keep on focusing on the profit and loss analysis. After about ten minutes of frustrating silence, he dropped the papers onto the table in front of him and leaned to put his elbows on its edge. You had still not raised your eyes at him – something that you normally did nearly on instinct since you were so in tune with his gestures, which made Hongjoong inhale aggressively. His previously neutral expression had turned into a scowl as he raised an eyebrow and gave you a onceover. His precious doll was up to something.

“What are you doing?” though the question was simple, his voice was dangerously low. But you could not be threatened by a good time. You kept your eyes trained on the page as your hand moved methodically to hatching the shadows of his, as of not too long ago, brilliant blond locks, ones you adored to run your hands through whenever you had the chance. Which was a rare occurrence outside of the ‘bedroom’, but still.

“Just noting some things down, Mister Kim.” Though he had insisted that you call him Hongjoong when you two were alone, it had been a challenging transition to get used to. But at least it gave you ample opportunity for… discouraging him further. He liked for everything to run like a well-oiled machine, with his eyes reading a business strategy in anything and anyone. You had no doubt that that was how he was scrutinising you now. Equal parts assessing the attitude and doting on you.

He was a sweetheart treating his favourite toy. Talking competitive analysis and takeovers in the morning, and clinking glasses with you at an exclusive Michelin star restaurant in the evening. And to think that you were the only one, aside from his family, who got to see more than one side of him was an intriguing notion. Actually, scratch that. Certain things you were sure to be the only one taking care of. Take his nasty habit of overworking, which you had called out even if it was just you feeling bored: all work and no play made Hongjoong a dull boy, and thus, less likely to compensate for your presently aimless sitting around.

“By colouring the entire page? Not good to lie to me, you know that.” Of course. When it came to matters of business, for example, this man had ears everywhere, had infiltrated every other competitor and had become a spider in the corporate world. He would probably find out someone was cheating on their spouse sooner than the spouse themselves. When it came to you, however, he did not have your intricate neural network mapped out just yet. He could only fluff up his feathers and put on airs.

“It is only ink, Mister Kim. And surely the ink to paper ratio is not more than the balance sheet on page twenty seven.” You purposefully moved away from his interrogation, subliminally reprimanding him from stopping his concentration. The ghost of a smirk was gracing your lips, hidden by hair that had fallen to perfectly frame your delicate facial features. Hongjoong still had not corrected you on using his ‘work title’.

“I should ask you to start drawing the spreadsheets out by hand then.”

“Maybe next time, as a special treat. In the meantime, we have what we have and must settle for it.” A lot more standoffish than usual, you were brushing your boss off as you continued the sketch. He could not exactly reprimand you, however. You were right in the fact that his suggestion was nothing more than white noise.

“Settle for less, Y/N?” the question rang loudly in your ears and translated itself to a reminder to know your place fairly quickly. You could imagine Hongjoong’s raised eyebrow and playful grin. In addition to him hinting at your arrangements, he switched to calling out your first name. Promising.

There was a customary mention of money and class even when it was not the main topic of conversation. Really, it was what had brought you two together, or rather the stark difference between what you and him had, respectively. Hongjoong enjoyed having financial control over you and ended up dangling it above your head in the form of his not so subtle first-world conduct. You preferred to imagine that it was him wrapping you up in the softest, silkiest Chanel ribbon, like the one you had seen in adverts and on the packaging that, alone, could have probably provided you with enough food to last a week in your life before.

It was not that Hongjoong did not try to ‘stay humble’. Based on your observations, out of all his financial peers, company clients and members of the executive board, he was probably the least likely to boast about the figures that his numerous bank accounts contained. It was possible that when the strings of digits began to look more like a phone number, one grew more tranquil. Money spoke louder than words. But you knew how to make Hongjoong get vocal. Or so you thought.

“More is never enough.”

“Having more takes a lot of work and being on your best behaviour, Y/N.” he may not know all of your thoughts and reasoning but knew that you got extra charming when you became needy. Trying so hard to get his attention that you would invest all your efforts into it. It was only fair after how much he had invested in you.

The Tiffany & Co necklace on your neck that he traced with his gaze was nothing more than a collar, a leash tethering you to him. An Elsa Peretti piece, a golden snake which had cost Hongjoong just under thirty million Korean won, was perhaps the best way to symbolise the chokehold you were beginning to have on him. You were there in business, there in pleasure, and he was contemplating preventing you from taking holidays unless they somehow involved him. It would be easy – just block all of your cards and you would come crawling. He was greedy for your reactions. The way your lip would curl when he would put somebody back in their place during a conference or a meeting. How you enjoyed it when he praised you for completing the challenging, soul-draining tasks that never ceased to pile up – he had never failed to continue scrutinising you through the glass walls of his office as you excitedly returned to your desk, a soft smile always on your face. How you were completely at his mercy when he wanted to give you an extra special present. He loved how the jewellery he had gifted you or sponsored for you to buy rocked back and forth as he took his time to take you apart. Piece by piece. His priceless game.

Hongjoong smoothed his lapels and adjusted his cotton jacket that he had bought in the colour warm khaki, tightening the knot of the wrap belt. Smugly, he took note of how your pretty, made up lips parted. What were you imagining he was doing now? He was not going to care, at least not right away. He demonstratively picked up the reports again, flipping through the bounded pages on autopilot as, what he could only decipher to be a disappointed gasp, reached his ears. It was a relief that the paper hid his growing smirk. Mister Kim was work-mode Hongjoong, after all. What did you expect?

Ignored and rejected, so be it. You knew this interaction well enough to be able to count, down to the minute, when Hongjoong would crack, or you would crack and still come sauntering over. He liked to be needed – the main reason why he had agreed to become the heir to the corporation in the first place, more than you liked to be needy. But sometimes, you were a little too impatient for your own liking – probably a side effect of having been transferred to a silver spoon lifestyle after experiencing hardship after hardship. As such, the dynamic between you and Hongjoong was a constant battle. You could almost taste his pride as he inspected the figures you had compiled for him, a lazy hand moving to adjust the collar of his white turtleneck. Through fluttering eyelashes, you feasted on the dangerously handsome man, determining that he really did look astonishingly captivating in Balmain.

It was frustrating, this ongoing game that you two played and would not quit despite the effect that it very obviously had on all parties involved, but much like with the drugs that made the occasional special appearance in the closed VIP-only events, it was too addictive. Even now, you knew that you should not pay attention to Hongjoong, but your eyes were not obeying you in the slightest. Over the time you had come to intimately know this man, if there was one thing you knew for certain, it was that he had an aura. An enigmatic charm, a magnetism that was so subtle to anyone who you now had the ability and first world clarity of deeming 'average' was unlikely to detect. However, before you knew it, upon locking eyes with Hongjoong, listening to his dulcet tone that would turn to orchestrate the music in your mind, you began to fall hard and fast into the abyss that was his power and control, trapped and even if you wanted out, forgetting the words. Once you fell in, the only words that mattered were the ones that he deemed to be so, and they were so heavily contextual and dependent on his mood that, usually, you did not dare oppose it.

It was fascinating to you how time seemed to pass differently when there was a price associated with it. Be it Hongjoong's net worth or what he was wiring into your accounts, it did not matter. What mattered was the bills that bound you together like the lace of your lingerie, one which was growing tighter around your body by the second as you kept on openly devouring Hongjoong with each shameless gaze, the thoughts cropping up because of the ghost of a smirk that he was wearing only fanning the flame. He was illegal. In all senses. No man should have the right to have such an influence over you as he did, and yet here you were. Working the role of his personal toy, so dedicated that you were on the verge of begging for him to play with you. You needed him. As much as you hated to admit it, since you still did want to retain at least a tiny portion of independence, this man had given you more than what you could ever wish for. Riches, connections, diamonds, sex. And you could not get enough, happily driven to madness by the immense pleasure of being a capricious diva with infantile demands for all the world's sweetness. Or, as your brother had put it, perhaps out of a sick gratitude to you for helping him getting at least a part of his life back on track, before you blocked him for good, you were getting off on being a pampered, prissy sugar baby. Though you saw no issue with simply doing what you were good at, and you still completed your regular duties as a personal assistant. It was just that your 'personal' was a little different from the commonly accepted corporate average. And the business that you carried out in the after hours was not just classified – when you had been faced with the decision of whether to agree to enter such a relationship with Hongjoong or not, you had naively placed your life at stake. That was the level at which you had to operate. But the thrill that it gave you, more than justified it.

Your internal clock was ticking away like a time bomb as you grew more and more frustrated, while Hongjoong, in a manner not too far from that of a cat’s, gave a soft yawn and made himself more comfortable in his chair, spreading his legs further apart under his desk and leaning back to continue his reading. Deciding that he had enough of having to repeatedly push his glasses up, he decisively took them off, and slowly folded them together, holding one of the temple tips very lightly with his lips. In a graceful motion, Hongjoong set them down to his right, beside a couple of pens. You recalled speaking with the designer over the phone, ordering for them to be customised and getting shipped over from the US in record time, and while you were not exactly sure as to why they were so important, the key stakeholders in the company had raved about them on multiple occasions, much to your boss’s delight.

You could feel that he was well aware of your present sensations, and purposefully was not acting on them, just to see you squirm. This was only making you more fixated on getting his attention, which you tried to do by letting out another soft sigh, quickly realising that if you were to get anything out of him, you had to be more rash, and act on instinct. In other words, act out of line. Taking the moment he dived back into the report as an opportunity, you rose from the couch, and slipped out of your high heels while keeping your eyes trained on your boss. A barely noticeable twitch of the eyebrow and you were struggling to fight off a smirk, feeling every bit seductive even though it was most probably a vision of your own design. But a little confidence did not hurt.

This time, you did not make a sound as you slowly moved towards Hongjoong’s desk in a straight line, using your strength to keep your adrenaline-ruined breathing as level as physically possible, and your steps measured out as the plane rumbled beneath you. Head and body in the clouds. All because of the heavenly ruin who was paying no mind to how you rested the tips of your fingers on the edge of the desk, before lowering yourself onto your knees and dropping into a languid crawl. As you inched past his lacquered black boots, and soon found yourself right between his legs, you could see Hongjoong stiffen, but resist the urge of responding to your bold movements. This only played to your advantage, as you let your hands rest on his denim-clad thighs before snaking up to tug on his coat’s belt, loosening it until the material gave way and exposed the waistline of his jeans.

Even as you, with practiced, methodical motions, undid his jeans, he did not spare you as much as a pat on the top of your head, like he usually did when you were being his ‘good girl’. The only sign he gave of his awareness of you was the obviously hardening member that your hands purposefully grazed as you attempted to pull the denim a little further down to give you better access. When the jeans, or rather, their wearer, did not budge to allow you to take them off, you growled in annoyance and gave up trying to be gentle, instead wanting nothing more but attention, not from Mister Kim, not from your boss, but from Hongjoong. From Joongie. From your one and only daddy.

Said man was resisting every urge to yank you from under the desk and to punish you for being such a vixen, but it was clear to him that his disregard of your efforts might just be more painful – a realisation that did little to subdue his arousal. It made him acutely aware of your nimble hand finding the cut in his Armani briefs, and pulling out his erection, giving it a few pumps at the base with your fingers. The sudden caress had made him buck his hips forward, encouraging you to continue admiring his length and running your fingers up and down, not a single bit escaping your touch. He gripped the papers in his hands until they began to get crumpled at the edges, and eventually dropped them to lean back and get a view of the scene unfolding at his feet. All just to catch you as you licked your lips, revealing a thick coating of spit, moved towards his dick, and while keeping it steady with one hand, ran your wet tongue from the base to the very tip, parting with a lewd twirl over the head. Hongjoong bit back a hiss as he locked eyes with yours, half-lidded – you knew all his sensitivities, his pressure points and guilty pleasures, and that was infinitely dangerous for a man like him to share, it only made you more attractive. You had memorised him as if he was your assignment. Your most important test and duty. Never leaving your mind and driving you to insanity as you drifted from wave to wave of uncontrollable desire for him, and him alone. You were his. And you looked so pretty, a queen all made up and dressed in gorgeous rare pieces, kneeling before him and taking in his member between your soft lips. Deeper. Deeper, until he could feel your hot inner cheeks, the back of your tongue and how a rumble emanated from you as you hummed in satisfaction, the vibration forcing Hongjoong to tilt his head back and sigh.

You were greedy for Hongjoong, moving yourself at a slow pace to take in as much of him as you could, hands finding themselves clinging onto the legs of his jeans for support, and to allow you to try your best and continue devour him without his guidance. As you moved away for a couple of seconds to catch your breath, a salacious pop announcing the temporary loss of contact, you noticed a string of what you could only guess to be your saliva, mixed with his pre-cum hanging between his member and your progressively more swollen lips. Once again, you took the throbbing member in your hand and were about to resume its worship, when a strong grip of your hair, nails momentarily sinking into your scalp, alerted you and made your gaze shoot upwards. The sight made you cower, though the thrilling trepidation fuelled your yearning for the glowering man.

There was a demonic quality in how he stared down at you, every bit of the expression demeaning you and demanding your ruin. You knew you had overstepped by disobeying him and taking intimate matters into your own hands, but who could blame you when he was so breath-taking when wearing his favourite brand? When you lowered your eyes he tugged on your locks, sneering.

“Baby girl could not even wait until we landed, huh?” his dulcet tone dropped into a rough drawl as he could feel your breaths washing over the tip of his sensitive dick that was begging for you to finish what you had started.

“I couldn’t.” you purred, batting your eyelashes.

“And so, you resort to being naughty? Do you think that is the right thing to do, especially when I say that I am working, hm?” he was hooking the answers out of you, one of his eyebrows twitching in surprise as you did not respond immediately. He tightened his hold and made your head fall further back so that you were completely face to face, his member pressing against your cheek.

“It isn’t, daddy, but I couldn’t help myself. You just looked so pretty that I could not resist.”

“And I think you are being incredibly selfish, Y/N. Spinning these tales just so you can satisfy yourself.”

“No daddy, I want to make you feel good!” you insisted, a whine escaping you as you could feel your core beginning to grow warmer with the progressing conversation. Pressing your thighs tightly together, you relished at the friction, and bit your lower lip.

“Is that so?” he mused out loud, waiting for your to attempt to utter even a single word more.

“Yes Da-mmfph!” taking the chance, he pushed you right in, his member hitting the back of your throat, the impact making tears spring up. As you struggled against him, he held you in place and watched as you tried to adjust to him. Just as unexpectedly, he yanked you back, leaving your lips to kiss his tip, only to drag you down once more and thrust his hips once, twice against you until he could see the wetness in your eyes building until it was about to spill over.

“You said you wanted to make daddy feel good, yes?” he asked, lust clouding his brain as you mumbled utter nonsense, mouth pacified by the hard erection, “then do exactly as I say, baby girl.”

This was exactly what you missed. Hongjoong coaxing every unholy state out of you, sin setting you ablaze as you began to fail in registering the nuances of this demeanour, tears that were on the verge of rolling down your cheeks blurring your vision. This was how you pinched yourself for grounding, to assure that the lifestyle you had, the gifts which you had been bestowed with were all real and all yours. You did not search for forgiveness when the forbidden fruit was so damn sweet. So, you let yourself be used like an expensive escort by him, comforted by the thought that even though he could definitely afford having anyone else, he had selected you. And let you stick by him for almost two years. A true sweetheart who knew how to treat his girl right. You moaned into the pressure as the low grunts you elicited from Hongjoong let to the climbing of heat in your core. With the abuse of your throat becoming a rhythmic orchestration, you grew brave enough to improvise, and hollowed out your cheeks.

"Ah... fuck, baby girl..." the airy proclamation escaped him as your teeth just barely grazed his member, and he could feel his high building at an accelerated pace. He resisted your bobbing to catch a few seconds' break by pressing you to his hips, barely giving you a chance to breathe. But he knew you would take it. You always did.

Hongjoong's ragged breathing was sending you into overdrive, and you shut your eyes to allow yourself to focus on the lewd music. Barely audible over the jet engines, the loss of control was his primary expression of gratitude. The illusion that he was not, in certain senses, under your heel rapidly evaporated when the adrenaline shot him through the heart, and his frontal lobe shut down to give up the reins to carnal pleasure. Once the barriers disappeared, his one desire and need were clear. You. The one thing in his life that he would never be able to truly own, and as you unwounded him, he comprehended with an unprecedented lucidity. That was why, as you sensed his hold on you loosen and his orgasm inching closer than ever, and were about to give him the sweet release, Hongjoong snapped back to consciousness and nearly ripped you away from himself, your head barely missing the drawers under the desk.

With flushed cheeks and an adorable, innocent pout, you looked up at him, dribble accumulated at the corners of your mouth. He fell for this face every time. Your glistening eyes studying him as you appeared disappointed that you could not get daddy to cum, afraid that you made him mad. That you did something wrong. Oh, how far from the truth this was. Even though you had acted selfishly, and approached him on your own accord, nothing about you could be anything less than right. Right just for him. It was as if the heavens themselves had moulded you to fit him like a glove. Body and soul. And he will be a fool if he did not indulge in that every opportunity he had.

Taking both your hands in his, Hongjoong helped you up from under his desk, careful to not damage your dress - not that he cared for the price, but it was not particularly enjoyable contemplating the conversation you might have to have with dry cleaning. Or with the designers. Again. It was troublesome striking deals with strangers to keep their mouths shut. He rolled back on his chair, taking in your trembling form. Holding your legs together you were fighting your ache for stimulation, knowing full well that your panties were already ruined with your slick and were only serving as a fabric made for rubbing your sensitive clit. Every breath, every sigh from Hongjoong as he took off his jacket and carefully hanged it on the back of his chair, then fully undid his jeans and pushed down his underwear, was a reason for you to start begging. Couldn't he see how anxious for touch his little toy was? Evidently not, for Hongjoong took his sweet time with removing your dress, every button like a special prize that he wanted to cherish, while you were growing hazy as he peppered kiss after kiss with every new inch of exposed skin, crouching down to let the sensation build lower, feeding the knot in your stomach. His pecks stopped just about when he reached your navel and with a lazy smile on his face, he stood up to gaze into your soul with an unbelievable intensity. Hands running up your body, Hongjoong slid the magnificent article off you, hastily draping it over one of the chair's arm rests and not once glancing away from his favourite sight, a sultry oasis, within reach, and so beautifully hungry for him. He stopped your arms from resting on his sweater, muttering that you would mar it with your lusty filth, and rushed to take it off and throw it behind him. Then, there was no barrier for him anymore, and in one motion, his pelvis was against yours, member resting against your black lace-clad heat, and hands kneading your ass, moving closer and closer until they began to toy with the g-string the action turning to torture as he purposefully made the material dig into your pussy, enjoying how you threw your head back and bit back a groan.

"Please daddy, I need you..." you whispered as he increased the friction and proceeded to move his dick in and out between your full, closed thighs, teasing your erect nub until you writhed to seek even more proximity. This, however, earned you a sharp smack on your ass, the lack of anticipation making it sting. Hongjoong did not give you time to recover as he let the pins and needles work their magic and elevate your reception of his steady thrusts. You tried to grab onto him, the table, anything, but as soon as your fingers touched Hongjoong's chest, another hit echoed in your ears, eliciting a frustrated moan.

"You want to... make... daddy really happy and cum... right?" He panted, his nails digging into your flesh so violently that you could not help but wonder if Hongjoong was going to draw blood, but that brief musing only elevated your pleasure. “Then, you are going to be my pretty little fuck doll… understood?” there was only one right answer to the question, and you were not about to get on Hongjoong’s bad side by being a brat. You were too fazed to put up a fight, and merely mumbled a soundless:

“Yes… daddy…”

Hongjoong leaned closer to you, until his forehead was almost touching yours, and moved to wipe some of the lipstick and remnants of his precum from your lips with his thumb, while his other hand hooked the waistband of your panties, slowly pulling them down to reveal your wet core. You wriggled to let them fall and kicked them away with an impatient foot, earning a chuckle.

“So eager, baby girl… I almost want to forgive you for not listening to me. I just said you are to be a doll,” he peered into your eyes, his breath hot on your mouth as he ran his fingers between your folds, covering them in your slick. It was adorable how you tried your best to keep up appearances even now, even when you had signed yourself away to be what effectively was his servant. You trembled as the cool metal of the ring on his index finger hit your clit, and exhaled shallowly as he played with you, “and dolls don’t move, do they? Can you do that?”

As he asked, his fingers curled into your pussy, while a thumb traced rhythmic circles over the nub, the sensation electric, building your high. The lasciviousness flashing in your pupils as your eyes rolled back was a cry to Hongjoong’s darkness. Hands suspended in mid-air, you did not dare act out nor attempt to navigate the intimate act, submitting to your boss, your daddy. Letting him take care of you. As he sped up, watching your face contort as you battled the approaching climax, Hongjoong found you endearing, the corners of his mouth twitching as a soft, radiant smile surfaced. He could never stay cruel with you for too long. He was giving you more than you could ask for, and yet, he still wanted to give you more. Everything would not be enough.

“Oh, my baby girl, are you close?” he inquired, cooing as your breathing quickened in response to his accelerated pumps into your wetness, wild from the addictive sound it produced. “Fine, you can hold onto me, Y/N, daddy will take care of you,” you did not need to be told twice, falling into him as your orgasm was imminent, “doing so well for me, baby girl…” he whispered into your ear, kissing the lobe and pulling you into an embrace as he felt your high wash over you, your sex pulsing around him and muscles contracting uncontrollably. Brushing your hair back, petting it a couple of times before settling on having a hand rest between your shoulder blades, he praised you. But did not stop. Greed went both ways.

Your prior filters completely broken, you moaned and whined as you kept on unravelling, Hongjoong’s fingers abusing your overstimulated cunt. With his toned body, and your ass pressed against the edge of the desk serving as your only support, you draped your arms over his shoulders and wrapped yourself around his neck, rationality leaving with every tremor. As you could feel another scalding fire building in your abdomen, just before the release Hongjoong removed his hand and instead took to gliding his dick against your pussy lips. With the sensation being too much, you yelped and sank into an orgasm, sweet nectar dripping onto, and coating his cock.

“Such a good girl for me, well done… Come on my dick baby girl.”

You were not sure when, due to the fog that enveloped your fucked out mind, but Hongjoong had made you lie on your back on his wooden desk, surrounded by the financial reports he could not be bothered to clear. He wanted you now, and that meant no pauses. Without as much as a warning, the blonde gave you one final teasing flick with his tip before bottoming out, the fullness making you gasp. Your walls were still clenching around him from your climax, which made Hongjoong growl as he grabbed your hips and pulled you closer to him, spreading your legs further apart.

“So perfect for me, Y/N… only mine…”

He mercilessly pounded into you, chasing his own high while you were seeing stars. When you were like this, under him, hair cascading onto and off the mahogany, knuckles turning white as your grasped onto the desk as he thrusted, you were the closest thing to heaven that he could believe in. In a world that was drenched in materialistic attraction, sabotage in the name of another stack, and human lives turning into corporate statistics to improve key performance indicators, this was an ethereal madness that unlocked a primal bliss, untainted by present crises. The sweetest distraction, you took him so well that he liked to pretend that you had been made just for this. Just to become his possession. His gorgeous doll.

With you, Hongjoong had begun to see purpose in his riches, being able to play dress up with you, making the office a private cat walk as you strutted in the latest collections and custom made pieces. Gucci, Versace, Prada… it did not matter to him so long as you were wearing it with the intentions of impressing him, seducing him, and only him. He was fully aware that, technically, you could be dating someone else alongside your so-called partnership with Hongjoong. As a sugar baby you could even have another ‘sponsor’ out there somewhere. Another person to make you cum, to provide you with a sensual paradise. But the notion sent him into an inexplicable rage as soon as he entertained it, and as such, he preferred to isolate visions of you from the rest of the world. In turn, this manifested itself into his real life attempts to do the same. Longer hours spent after work, an unspoken rule that the assistant should not leave until the boss does. Michelin star restaurants and exclusive rooftop bars to lure you into being in his company. And of course, sex. Or making love. However, one wished to call it when the lines began to get blurry. But Hongjoong could not care less. You made him comfortable. You were his, you had to be, otherwise what did the two years mean?

Skin against skin, breath joining breath, sight clouding, going dark. Hongjoong rolled his hips, and lowered himself to a stance where he was hovering directly above you, his piercing gaze not once leaving you. Getting drunk off every moan and gasp that he was the cause of, he relished in the feeling of your pussy taking him so well, the orgasm that he had not allowed you to ride out still making your walls clench repeatedly around his dick, pleading for his intimate, salacious demise. His thrusts got deeper as he slowed the pace, progressively losing his senses to the speeding high.

“Mm… baby girl you are… fucking priceless…” he uttered, words broken apart by each time he bottomed out in you, his balls pressing against your wetness as you could only let out a series of mewls in response, thoughts unintelligible as the repeated hits to your g-spot brought you closer and closer to total destruction.

“Daddy… please, I’m-”

“Going to cum?” he finished your sentence as your try at speaking was interrupted by a wave of pleasure, mixing with the tension from before and making the tears spring up once again. You were a wreck, impaled by Hongjoong’s member as he returned to standing up in front of the desk, thrusts rapid, sharp and finally making a droplet roll down from the corner of your eye. You yelped:

“Hongjoong… ah this is…”

“Is it too much baby girl?” he asked, without any intention to stop as he could sense himself faltering at keeping up the act for any longer. His own climax was within reach, and he was not one to deny himself any pleasures.

“No, daddy, feels…. So ah… yes…” you mumbled, at least you thought you did, but could not confirm for certain.

“Pretty girl crying for me…  so cute.” Praises spilled out of him as he groaned into the tightness, and, unsteady, removed himself from your cunt, letting out a low moan as rivulets of cum shoot out from his cock and onto your stomach.

The viscous white fluid decorating you was more than what he could ever hope for. The final marking that you were his to use, you were there to serve him, and he would never get enough. A light shake in his thighs forced him to seek balance in having a hand on either side of you, while his pulsing dick rubbed against your inner thigh.

“So pretty, Y/N. Just for me.” He stated, more to himself, and lowered himself further to give you a soft peck on the lips, which quickly deepened as you responded with an elated sigh. In these moments, you wondered if it was money that you were doing this for.

As he moved away, and with practiced motions began to clean you up with some tissues which you had in your bag, you regained full ability of inhale… count… exhale, and in the clarity, drifted to a post-coital contemplation. Hongjoong knew how to make you do what he wanted you to do. But did he know you? Could he confidently paint the portrait of your desires beyond financial and sexual gain? A man made of sugar, with an alluring physique and a kindness which he showed only to you, but should he be your only one? This thought had been plaguing you ever since last month. An unexpected, shattering appearance of a business card, that was now hidden behind a card you rarely used in your wallet, with gold embossed lettering and an otherwise minimalist design. Tasteful, exclusive, expensive. When you checked the names of those attending the meet on the island, the object had grown considerably heavier, weighing onto your consciousness. Discreetly given to you amidst a kiss of the hand and the reception of a smouldering gaze, it served a similar purpose to a number at an auction. The person whose name the card bore had announced himself as a bidder for your attention and services, a bidder astronomically higher than Kim Hongjoong, at that. It was tempting. Very tempting. And you knew that the conversation would occur at some point during your stay, seeing as even in the business setting, the man would undoubtedly be sat across from you, and would stare you down, right to the avarice festering in your heart wrapped up in designer. But you were caught in a dilemma.

Your eyes travelled back to the graceful form tending to you, forgetting about himself, at least until his baby girl was well cared for. A sweet angel, his face finally rid of tenseness and agitation as his entire focus was on your body, on you. The one who, unknowingly to himself, had shown you unprecedented vulnerability and, endearingly, trusted you much more than he ever should have. A man who walked on people and money, yet wanted a woman who could play with his heart.

It was not that simple anymore, was it? After so many doses, could you give this up? Give up and betray Hongjoong in search for a stronger hit?

📝 nsfw tags: fingering, overstimulation (a bit), edging, sub!reader, dom!hj, a tid-bit of pain play - smacking/slapping/stepping on someone, exhibitionism(???), public sex, protected sex, a lot of petnames (sweetheart, pet, baby girl), sir, slave, degradation, humiliation, pet/master and slave/master dynamic

The ticking of a clock from a bygone era, clinging onto the wall by a rusty nail, a sword of Damocles over head of any professor to use the blackboards above which it was hanging. The distant shouts and laughter of students outside the lecture hall, enthusiastically recounting their weekend plans even though it was still the middle of the week– every attempt to erase the gruelling hours of study. The soft golden sunrays, not caring for the half-closed venetian blinds over the windows occupying nearly the entire side of the room, sneaking into the room and dancing over your skin as you cupped your head in your hand and leaned onto the desk.

You were here again, waiting to get your fix; a habit you could not quit. There was no real purpose for you to be meeting with Kim Hongjoong, revising the same material over and over until you could recount it in your sleep. You were doing well enough in your studies now, had other plans, other interests, and yet all the roads still led you right back to the psychology department building. Its carved mahogany pillars, antique tomes overfilling the grand shelves in the main library, the intricate plaster design in the myriad of maze-like, marble tile corridors. Your feet moved on their own accord, leading you to the same hall, again and again, hoping for some miracle.

The way you and Hongjoong had met could not be any more standard and uninspiring. It was the middle of the fall semester. You were an undergraduate student having trouble with a particular module, he was a postgraduate student conducting research with your professor as his supervisor, you asked for help, were appointed to Hongjoong as a tutee… and the rest was history. Truth be told, you had been terrified of having him help you study initially – from the few students who he had agreed to work with in the past, you had heard that he was strict, demanding, impatient and near despotic. He had a reputation of a judgemental man who counted down the seconds until he could free himself of the vermin that were his juniors.

How you wanted to laugh at this severe prejudice now! After the initial session where you two had established ground rules and expectations, and you had the bright idea of preparing a concise collection of syllabus requirements together with known assessment timings, it was as though someone had flipped a switch inside the young man. Hongjoong had perked up at your interest and had gotten rid of his cold demeanour once you had managed to remain proactive and engaged all throughout his ramblings – no easy feat when discussing human development and cognition.

And now, with two terms having passed by and the end of your academic journey approaching, you were still meeting. Hongjoong seemed to have an innate talent for thinking of something new to discuss with you – just so another session could take place. You strongly doubted that what was happening between you could still be considered a mere tutorship, however; While the core of your conversations remained locked in the realm of psychology and human behaviour analysis, the subtle nuances and implied deviations of meaning had taken on an entirely different palette.

The distance between you was continuously being tested, with a fleeting caress here, a playful touch there, but never anything beyond that. Even though you, supposedly, were training to be masters of understanding the human psyche, you were struggling, or perhaps more accurately, afraid to decipher each other’s intentions, instead leaving it to wishful thinking and irretrievable opportunities lost. Your heart remained in the paradise of the hours spent with Hongjoong but hoped that time could freeze. The clock on the wall was showing five minutes past five – quite unlike him to be late.

Part of you wondered if it was because, finally, Hongjoong began to grow tired of these sessions, of you. Perhaps those students were right after all, and you had merely been seeing what you wanted to see, falling into the trap of confirmation bias. But that hypothesis had no anecdotal evidence to support it – he was an ‘exact’ man, arriving and leaving on the dot regardless of any circumstances. Aside from staying over time once last term, resulting in him physically stiffening around you and being jittery for the next few meetings. You took it as anxiety or need for order, projecting what you had covered in class onto him.

The man in question was gazing at you through the window in the door, having spent the last few minutes trying to collect his thoughts. After having spent the last two terms in torturous denial, he could not find strength in himself to hold back anymore. And that started with this damn hour. It was like a shackle, constraining the two of you to a particular routine and forcing you to remain going round and round in circles. Hongjoong figured that you probably even struggled to ideate meeting him outside of these bounds, remembering the barely audible gasp and widened eyes when you accidentally bumped into him a couple of weeks ago. It probably had meant nothing to you, but to him it turned into a time bomb mechanism. He needed to do something, and fast, before the chances to act ran out entirely.

But look who was talking - at first opportunity he would jolt out of his seat and guide you to the door. He did not dare entertain the thought of going any further, for he knew, if he did so, there would be no going back. Such a move – out of line, and out of the allocated time, had served as the beginning of his highly unprofessional interest in you. That additional half an hour, last term in mid-December, poring over a textbook, one that he was not even able to read in the blur of his emotion and acute sensitivity towards your warmth, nearly right against his cheek, those thirty minutes had spelled his personal disaster.

Hongjoong had never expected to be anything but indifferent towards you. In the grand scheme of things, you could have been just a passing figure. But life had other plans and led him right into the trap that you had not realised you set. First, you came to be who he thought of when he worked - he grew accustomed to filtering papers and studies through a lens of what you could find interesting and relevant, inadvertently leading him to making double the efforts - for the both of you. Next, you transformed into his daydream, consuming his rest and innocuous musings - on multiple occasions he had caught himself contemplating what your preferences were between this or that, or whether you went to see the play you had told him about last week... He thought it would stop at that, alas, the control you had over his mind could not be contained. From day to night, you haunted him, your tasteful attire mentally exterminated by the unbridled desire that consumed him, from early echoes in-situ to hurricanes that left him shuddering in the privacy of his sin. Hongjoong was driving himself insane with you, and he was exhausted of not knowing whether you felt the same way about him.

There were signs, of course, hell, even the pretty little skirt and thigh high boots you chose to wear today were screaming at him and leaving him breathless. But this was all elements of uncertainty, at least until he was to make it the one goal to carry out his series of experiments and prove to both of you that you had long passed the stage of wanting. To one another, you had transformed into an unavoidable need.

It was another three minutes until he finally deemed it appropriate to press down on the door handle, and make his presence known. He expected the same reaction from you as always - a flutter of the eyelashes as you raised your head, how you studied him as though you were committing him to memory, and those soft, plump lips forming a coy smile in greeting. These traditionally insignificant gestures made Hongjoong go into overdrive and fantasise a totally different agenda for the tutorial. Maybe you knew what you were doing, maybe you didn't. But either way, he desperately wanted to become the only one to control those expressions, that inner world you only revealed to him in teasing snippets. Hongjoong simply wanted to own it.

“Did you read the papers I recommended?” It was something of a ritual at this point: he asked a question, you answered, then silence overtaking and lasting from the first exchange to the moment he sat right beside you in the same row, and then you began sharing musings on whatever topic of the week was.

Your head snapped up as soon as you heard the familiar dulcet tone. Finally, Hongjoong had decided to make an appearance, you had feigned ignorance of his lingering form, allowing him to loiter in the corridors while you took in the blissful ambiance of the quiet lecture hall, and considered possible reasons behind his silly actions. So, in a split second, you decided, if he was to be starting the session in an odd manner, it was only your duty to continue.

“Why were you late, Doctor Kim?” you asked, coquettish, emphasising the title that Hongjoong was in the process of trying to attain. He attempted to convince you on a number of occasions that you had no grounds to call him that, but the suppressed look of pride that graced his features, even if just due to the sense of superiority, made your little joke worth it.

The question made Hongjoong freeze in place, right at the entrance to your row. His grip on the leather briefcase he carried almost everywhere tightened, and he readjusted his glasses as a way to distract and calm himself. Evidently, you were onto him, seeing as you decided to veer off-script too. Had you been watching without him realising? With all his might he fought his darkening expression and stalked towards you without saying a single word in return. As he flipped the cushioned seat down and set the case on the elongated table attached to the next line of chairs, you unabashedly continued to follow his every move with your eyes.

Hongjoong’s look was what could be described as a simple elegance. Dressed from head to toe in black, each article of clothing fit immaculately, and highlighted his toned form in just the right places. The thin cashmere turtleneck, together with what you could only assume to be a tailormade blazer, perfectly accentuated his torso, and guided the vision from his delicate hands to his neck, and finally, to his bespectacled face. Effortlessly styled onyx locks made him appear every bit a gentleman, while the studded earrings hinted at a subliminal rebelliousness. His remarkable sense of taste, along with the way in which he could steal all your attention, were timeless truths.

Only once he was settled, his tablet set aside and stylus in one hand, knee almost brushing against yours as he turned a little ways towards you, did he recall what you had said, wondering whether he should let you keep calling him that, as a pleasant formality. In spite of the appeal that the notion had, Hongjoong chose to not entertain the thought any further, and instead let his discreet glances trail down your body, landing on the edge of the mini skirt where it had ridden up, only a little, but enough to give space for creative thought.

“I had some… business to attend to.” He could not think of anything better, but did not want the quiet to last any longer than it had already been. You were polite enough to not keep this particular conversation going, humming in return as you brushed a strand of hair behind your ear.

As you did so, Hongjoong caught the scent of your perfume, his favourite, which left him intoxicated. The floral notes with deliciously sweet undertones dealt permanent damage and taught him to search for you whenever there would be as much as a hint of anything similar. He bit the inside of his cheek as he watched you uncross and slide one leg over the other again. He was at his limit with you, this weekly hour having become a test in its own right.

Now that he was so close, the hall shrunk to a tiny suffocating chamber, where it was only you and him, and the setting sun lazily dragging across the sky outside. You had a tendency to forget just how quickly time could pass when with Hongjoong and were cursing the almost fifteen minutes that had already disappeared.  It was easy to form an image in your mind of him showing up later and later, until he would appear one minute before the end, and then not at all. Perhaps, you needed to start getting over your private teacher, but that was definitely difficult to start when you could sense his scrutiny – his special focus on your thighs did not go unnoticed, a win in your outfit selection books. His overwhelmingly tantalising presence. His hand suddenly tapping your shoulder, not remaining there for as long as you would like.

“So, about that reading?” Hongjoong tilted his head, and smiled softly, though his eyes held something unreadable.

“Of course.” Your voice had inadvertently dropped to a whisper, making the young man’s wandering observations cease immediately, snapping right back to you. After a short pause, he cleared his throat, and forced himself to steer back to the standard collection of lines you had abided by for long enough.

“Then let’s get started?” he wished the phrase would come out less as a question, but for today, or well, tonight in particular, he felt the need to ask for affirmation; subconsciously, he was testing the waters. “Explain to me, what is self-determination theory, and who are some prominent figures that helped develop it?”

You smoothed the pages of the notebook laid open right before you.

"The macro theory of self-determination, which has first been actively developed and brought to our modern understanding by Ryan and Deci, explores and evaluates the outcomes of actions related to human agency. This theory proposes three basic psychological needs, namely autonomy, competence, and relatedness, and introduces a relationship between the satisfaction of said needs, intrinsic motivation, and the regulation of extrinsic motivation.”

You kept your voice as steady as you could, reciting the passages you had highlighted while reviewing the material. Hongjoong was listening intently, nodding along to every phrase, humming in approval as you halted. His stylus remained hovering above the tablet, not touching it a single time. Before, he would litter page after page with critiques, ranging from semantics and your choice of phrasing to the way in which you would reference relevant works. The list of adjustments had been endless, but instead of deterring you, like it had done for your peers, it ignited a foreign motivation. You wanted to prove that you were better. That, give you one piece of advice, you would move ten steps forward and soar. This drive had been your saving grace as it helped you forget prior failure. Prevented unnecessary worry. Along with the fervent wish to impress your tutor came the consistency and dedication to the subject necessary for you to pass with flying colours. In a way, Hongjoong had made you. Crafted who you needed to be in the span of a few weeks. And permanently etched himself into your psyche.

The blank state of the page was a testament to just how intertwined you were, tied together so tight you could barely breathe. You would not be surprised if you moved in synchronicity, and your hearts beat at the same rhythm. All the usual words had already been spoken, leaving behind an electrifying atmosphere that needed a new, symbiotic approach. A fresh start. An unspoken agreement seemed to pass between you and Hongjoong, as with one final spin of the pen-like accessory, he returned it to the built in holder in the casing, and clicked the tablet locked. You paid unnecessarily close attention to the darkening of the screen, until you realised that the man beside you was doing the exact same, and you accidentally locked eyes in the reflection. The fraying edge of your notebook’s cover was suddenly beyond interesting, and you darted to fixate on the miniature tears. You demonstratively picked at the faux leather binding to expose a tiny portion of the cardboard underneath, and waited for Hongjoong to continue. He was yet to comment, but took it upon himself to stop the nervous motion by placing his hand over yours, and lightly shaking his head.

The innocent gesture, gone as fast as it had happened, did the opposite of soothing you – instead of the ticking of the clock, you were listening to the adrenaline-fuelled heartbeat, a staccato resonating in the eardrums. All you were hoping for was that you were not prudish enough to let blush coat your cheeks from a mere few seconds of contact. But your yearning was slowly becoming more and more of a problem, now that his leg was pressed against yours. Tick-tock. Tick-tock.

Hongjoong remained outwardly unperturbed, though the same could not be said for his inner world – that slight reaction from you, one that he was able to detect only because he was searching for it, was enough to set him ablaze and reeling. He needed to slow down if he wanted this to go according to plan. The now continuous touch was enough for the time being - discreet enough to not be outwardly suspicious, but if his investigation and desires were to align, a respectable next step.

“Good. Very good, now let’s take that apart, shall we?” he praised, and leaned on the table with his elbow, facing you. You were curious about what exactly did he actually want to take apart. “You mentioned human agency. Care to elaborate on what that means?”

An instinctive reach for your notes – a desperate cry for support from your brain that was currently going haywire, was cut short by a soft reprimand from your not quite tutor, not quite something more. He encouraged you to be a bit more patient, stating as a matter of factly that this was something you should be able to recollect without assistance. Maybe if you were being assessed by anyone else, just not him. Hongjoong was visually ravaging you, more and more of you, with each passing minute, and you were afraid that soon enough, you would lose control. You wanted to allow yourself to melt under his gaze, to sink into his momentary touches and feel more than just the enticing heat emanating from his body.

Back and forth, the two of you exchanged one fact after another, not once veering off into any other territory except self-development theory. However, within it, your communication had transformed into something a lot less bland for your excited tastes. In a brazen manner, Hongjoong navigated you through a myriad of themes, maintaining a level of seductive ambiguity that was sufficient to keep you guessing and riled up.

It was an odd stroke of luck, how you had been assigned to the one teaching assistant and postgraduate student who was your favourite eye candy during the lectures. He had agreed to attend only a few in the very beginning of the series, since he much preferred to follow his own rhythm, but had stolen your focus at once. Following a disastrous mock test, it was only common practice for your department to assign you to a senior buddy – even if they initially protested and explicitly, in your presence, rejected the deal. Had that been hurtful? Only a little, dissipating in a blink, especially since it led you to where you were now. With forty-five minutes having past, breathing shallowing out into haphazard gulps, and conversation deeply dedicated to extrinsic and intrinsic motivation.

Hongjoong currently had one arm resting on the back of your chair, almost embracing you, and the other gliding with a pen over your notebook, sketching out the diagram of the self-determination continuum from memory. While he was concentrating, you were indulging in the closeness, no longer as engaged in what he was explaining – you had shutdown some time ago, choosing to admit your fervid attraction towards him, at least to yourself. It was comical how you still could hum in agreement at all the right times, nod, or tilt your head. A couple of times you had even mustered a pout, which had made Hongjoong noticeably still.

“…Y/N.” he roughly called you out of your daydream, eyebrow raised. He was obviously unamused, but you could see something contradictory between his actions and the picture painted in his dark orbs. You could almost believe that he had been waiting for a slip up like this, an opportunity to scold you, to really teach you a lesson. “You know I don’t like it when you misbehave and do not listen.”

He could have used passive terms, different pronouns, phrased the comment differently, but no. This was Hongjoong we were talking about. The Hongjoong with his eyes glazed over, resisting the impulse to pounce on you then and there, hanging on by a thread of professional theory. There was not much other proof that he required from you, as you were obvious enough. It did give him a level of satisfaction to know just how severely he could affect you, however, his charms turned out to be a double-edged sword. The more responsive you became, the more intensely his desire resonated.

“But I was…” you trailed off, arguing just for the sake of it.

“Then repeat what I just said.”

“Uhm, that the motivation is regulated by means of punishment on one side,” you slowed your speech, raising one hand to point at the left side of the unfinished diagram with a perfectly manicured nail, “and inherent satisfaction on the other.” Your tone exposed your goal of making the explanation into a euphemism and made Hongjoong bite his lower lip. You were catching up to him in your guesswork, weren’t you?

You yearned for Hongjoong to act before you did something indecent. So, you eagerly played along. If he wanted you to be a little more needy, you were more than happy to oblige and act clueless. Anything for this hour to become an eternity.

You felt a hand being placed on your exposed thigh, between your skirt and boot, then slowly, tentatively, it moved up, closer and closer to the checkered fabric. Fingers flittered across your skin and made it under the material, stopping only right at the sensation of having found the concealed lace. As his other hand let go of the pen to cup your chin and direct you to meet his darkened, sultry gaze, you let out a soft gasp, and shifted your hips just a little, to highlight to yourself that he could have you right where he wanted, and you were ready to beg for it.

“Not quite. But of course, this is something you want to focus on, you…” he hesitated to continue the sentence, choosing to prolong the silence, and keep you frozen in place.

“You… what?” you tried to coax the inevitable change out of him. This limbo could not be left to remain between you.

“…need…” he forced out, fighting himself. Holding back. You felt the pressure on your jaw weaken, so you took to nudging his thumb out of position, making it graze your lips.

“Need?” you repeated after him and waited for a continuation. After a second, ten, thirty, you realised that Hongjoong was peeking at the omnipresent timekeeper above the blackboards.

It was the hour. It had not even crossed your mind, since normally it would be the duty of an obnoxiously loud alarm on Hongjoong’s phone to alert you. But today, it was dead silent. He was so unlike the tutor you had interacted with before, but so like the man who you wanted to belong to. You tuned into the ticking and the heat building up inside you. Leaning in closer, with the tension between your bodies having reached unprecedented heights, you fluttered your eyelashes a few times, formed a cute smile and made a simple request that you knew would be the trigger:

“Please, Joongie, can you help me revise?” the nickname made his cognition fuzzy, so he remained conflicted and held back.

“Shit, Y/N. You are making things really hard for me, you know that?” he breathed out, turning to peer at you through half-lidded eyes. In flash of confidence after being humoured by the phrase you reached out to put a hand on Hongjoong’s chest, tracing a line with a finger, all the way down until you reached the waistband of his trousers, and toyed with the golden buckle of what had to be a rather pricey belt.

“Oh yes, I do. Much like you know that I am in dire need of motivation.” enveloped in an uncontainable lust, Hongjoong let go of your chin, positioning his hand right on the back of your head, fingers snaking themselves through your hair, and pulled you in until you were a mere couple of centimetres away.

“Are you sure, pet?” his exhale was hot on your skin, and you tilted yourself into him, impatient with this back and forth.

“You sure ask a lot of questions, Joongie-”

Any further retorts were cut off by Hongjoong taking off his glasses and closing the space between you and crashing his lips with yours. You barely had time to react as he gave your hair a slight tug to angle you for a deeper kiss. There was no longer any pressure against your thigh, as instead, his arm had slinked around your waist, and was urging you to slide even closer. Without much resistance you let yourself be guided, twisting yourself and letting the seat which you had occupied return to its folded state before lifting a leg and moving to straddle the handsome brunette.

Though you now had a certain advantage, with Hongjoong having to tilt his head up a little, it did nothing to change just how quickly you unravelled at his touch. It felt like a hallucination, finally getting a taste of what you had been craving for too long. But, despite the fact that you were here, revelling in this united intimacy, it was not enough. A greed had awoken within you alongside the building unrefined high, provoking you to give into the animalistic hunger and quit pretending. Remnants of your usual elegance evaporated as the temperature rose, leaving the real, primal you. The tantalising possibility of having the numerous scenarios occupying the inner conscious erased your ability to form any coherent thoughts. You wanted to be capable of only one thing now, and that was devoting yourself to the man whose saliva was sending you into a frenzy. The man who was physically under you, but you constantly struggled to reach. The man who had you wrapped around his finger.

"Hongjoong..." you sighed into the kiss, earning a hum from your seducer.

Masterfully, without breaking away from the electrifying contact, he began to unbutton your silk blouse, only stopping once to admire you, whispering a string of praises. Each one cemented itself within you, as though it was novel, unheard of. It was reminiscent of a scientific discovery, like those words had no significance to you before he carefully selected them in your address. It wasn't long before your top was shrugged off, and found a home under Hongjoong's seat, having you remain only in your bra. You had ensured that every Wednesday, you were to dress your best at every layer, if not for exposure, then at least for confidence. And now it paid off, as your target audience slid his hands with the attentiveness of an examiner across from your abdomen to your chest, halting at the solar plexus.

Hongjoong leaned back to appreciate how worked up you already were, on the verge of mewling like a kitten for him to give you more. Before you could say anything, he manoeuvred to unclasp the article. The suddenness of the motion made your teeth click together, but instead of deterring you only added fuel to the fire in your core. Now having full access to your breasts, he did not hesitate to cup them in his hands, unrestrained, and proceeded to knead them, paying special attention to your aroused nipples with a few methodical flicks and teasing pinches. You were putty in his hands, fading into moans muted by Hongjoong’s tongue grazing your canines, exploring you.

His hands traced the contours of your body, gliding down to your hips and pulling the skirt further up until it was a flimsy accessory that left nothing to the imagination. Roughly grabbing your ass, he moved up towards you as you grinded once, twice, until you were on the growing bulge underneath his trousers. As soon as you were flush against him, you own movement growing sloppier by the second, he tilted his head back just a little and hissed by your cheek:

“So fucking selfish, baby girl. Demanding all this attention from me.” He moved to plant a kiss on your earlobe, nipping at the cartilage. You let out a shaky breath, returning the sensation by peppering a series of kisses across the side of his face, stopping right at the corner of his plump lips.

“You’re making me feel so good, Joong-” your hunger was not subsiding as you tried to capture his mouth with yours, only to be rejected by a harsh comment:

“That’s Sir to you, pet.”

“I knew you liked it when I-”

“One more word out of that pretty mouth of yours and I am not going to be so nice.” Hongjoong warned you, sternly, a hint of aggression behind his words. This made you wonder how he would be if completely enraged. Perhaps you would find out someday, but this time around, you wanted to try your best to be a good girl for him.

“Anything to help me learn my lesson…” you paused to glance into Hongjoong’s eyes, as wild as yours, “…Sir.”

“Little troublemaker trying to be the teacher’s pet?”

“Yes Sir.”

“Then tell me, what’s intrinsic motivation again?” he smirked as he kissed your jawline and breathed right against the side of your neck, making you whine. He took great pleasure in seeing how your head rolled back as he found a particularly sensitive region, and after giving it a quick introductory peck, began to hungrily devour, sucking and nipping at the skin until it grew a new shade of pink.

“Mpfh- this-” you gasped as he moved to treat another area with the same affection, peppering kisses across your collar bone and jugular.

“Well, isn’t that just lovely. So desperate to be satisfied that you are willing to do anything. Well tell me, what do you need to do to get what you need?”

“Anything?” a sharp slap resounded when his palm made contact with your ass, accompanied by a yelp from you. You had to steady yourself by grabbing onto Hongjoong’s shoulders, and refrain from shaking.

“Try harder, baby girl. As if I’d give you the answer just like that.”

“Make you… feel so good…”

“Lacking in originality, but I’ll give it to you. Well done, you’re catching on. Never disregard the extrinsic, Y/N. We all want motivation.” He dropped his voice low, mocking your earlier words, and planted one more kiss right on your collarbone, taking a couple of seconds to commit his artwork on your skin to memory.

You felt him adjust his positioning, and wrap his arms around your thighs, somehow managing to move you even closer to him. It was impossible to ignore your own arousal, as well as his that you could feel through your own panties, while in one effort, he carefully rose from his seat and planted you in front of him, right on the table. The desks were probably the newest addition to the lecture hall, having been completed out of a sturdy fibreboard. But that also meant that they barely registered any changes in temperature and shocked you with their coolness against your exposed flesh. When Hongjoong set you down on, he reached for the soaked material of your panties, tugging on the waistband a couple of times.

“But I like to lead by example, pet. I want to show you how I want you, and how you should want me.”

You were about to give a feeble response, but it got caught inside your throat along with a gasp for air, as you were overwhelmed by the feeling of Hongjoong’s fingers going under the fabric, along your sensitive folds and deep into your pussy. Taking it slow, he let his fingers glide right back out, now coated with your nectar, and he took to massaging your blooming clit, rubbing the region unhurriedly, only to move right down between the lips once more, and up again.

You desperately needed him inside you, and attempted to encourage this by bucking your hips just a bit towards him, but to no avail, as with his free hand he grasped your hip roughly, and tugged you back to the table. Once he decided that you were ready, Hongjoong easily slid his nimble digits inside, up to his knuckles, and commenced their ecstasy-inducing pumping at a steady pace, albeit slow for your preferences. But you knew better than to complain when your desires were still progressively being fulfilled.

“Look at you, pretty girl, so fucking wet for me already,” he picked up his speed, enjoying how rapidly that forced a lewd moan out of you and caused you to lean forward, seeking stability in Hongjoong’s body. With your foreheads pressed together, and your breaths becoming shakier, he continued to taunt you, “See how willing you are to bow to me?”

“Yes, shit, please, just don’t stop-”

“Enthusiastic, are we? Well, remember this for how I will quiz you later by seeing how you treat me. I want you to imprint this in your mind. Every damn second. How well your tight cunt takes to me, how you crumble beneath me.”

“Yes Sir-ah!”

He curled his fingers and stepped closer towards you, his body turned a little off to the side. The pulsing of his still-clothed erection against your leg, as well as the stimulation he was giving to your sex was making you see stars. You had dreamt of this for so long and were not holding back in letting Hongjoong know of your pleasure by the pants and hushed yelps that escaped your open mouth. Music to his ears.

“You’re such a slut for this, so fucked out from just my fingers. I bet you have thought about this before, haven’t you, Y/N?”

“Oh fuck yes, Sir, yes I have, I…” you could not finish your sentence as he began to pump at an even faster rate than before. The knot that had formed in your stomach since the beginning of the ‘tutorial’ you had together, which turned out to be prolonged intellectual foreplay, was now growing unbelievably stronger, and stronger, coiling light a metal spring.

“I’ll let you in on a secret – I have wanted to see you like this, squirming underneath me, for just as long.”

Though his words were an unabashed expression of salaciousness, you could read a genuine affection in his eyes. You could almost guarantee that there was a life, perhaps even a love beyond this common indulgence in carnality. At least you wanted to believe that that was the case, even though your focus was also fully lust-riddled, and your high was fast-approaching.

“Every time you would follow me with your eyes as I excited the room, or how you would shamelessly flirt with me though I did not give anything back… you really are so needy. Practically begging to worship me, huh?”

“Y-yes…” your speech was faltering, and you locked your hands behind Hongjoong’s neck, unable to stabilise yourself alone any longer. Your climax was imminent.

“Dreaming of when you could have all of me to yourself… so fucking dedicated. Do you think you deserve a reward?”

“You… decide… Sir…” you choked out, resting your head against the crook of his neck, inhaling his inebriating scent.

“Such a good girl, that’s right. I do decide. And because you are being so obedient, I am treating you this well. How does that make you feel?” He teased, purposefully employing the overused phrase. It made you recall where you were exactly, and just what you were doing, the shame spurring you on.

“Thank you, sir- ah!”

“Grateful, is that right?” voice husky, he confirmed.

“Yes… mmh, fuck yes please-”

You were drawing a blank – if before you were at least able to state a few words in an order that made sense, now you were approaching the edge of complete ruin and could no longer contain yourself. An intense warmth was spreading all through your lower half, shooting outwards to every neuron in your body, down to your toes, contracted in pleasure, and all the way to your dishevelled locks. Only a couple of seconds ago did shame flash before you, accusing you for whoring yourself out so impatiently and desperately inside a university classroom, but Hongjoong had a talent for making you forget. If he kept at it, you would even forget your own name. He was pumping faster and faster, his arm muscles tightening along with your grip on his blazer, crumpling the material. It was only a matter of seconds, your breathing shallowed, moans grew breathier – if you were a gun, then Hongjoong was about to pull the trigger. You shut your eyes on instinct, expecting the rolling waves of a climax to hit you, but-

Your ‘small death’ never arrived. With a whine you sent a confused glare in Hongjoong’s direction, searching for an answer, any sign from him. This was not fair. You needed his attention back this instant, how dare he cut this euphoria? Why was he so intent on driving you to the verge of insanity? You did not have a single chance to complain, nor to initiate payback, as Hongjoong groaned and picked you up, manhandling you to the ground. Astonished, you stayed compliant.

The carpeted floor did not bring much comfort, the artificial fibre digging into your bare back, and the whiff of an amalgamation of industrial cleaner and something similar to puddle water made you scowl. A look to the side revealed a pencil, evidently forgotten by a student from one of the classes earlier that day, but was still better than facing Hongjoong's unreadable expression as he hovered above you. He appeared to be listening out for something, a suspicion confirmed when you were about to speak, and he pressed a hot finger against your lips, making you state yourself while simultaneously silencing you.

“Not. A. Single. Sound. You hear me?”

You merely nodded, unsure of how else to respond. Not when Hongjoong appeared so frustrated. Only once he rose up, pushing himself up using the table did you manage to pick apart the sound of conversation from outside of the hall. There appeared to be a group of students passing by, taking their sweet time. In an efficient manner, he took out a handkerchief from his pocket, wiping his fingers. From your angle, though you could not exactly tell, but it appeared that the ghost of a smirk was dancing on his features. It did not take much deduction to figure out that he was enjoying the humiliating state you were in, your own horniness trapping you in a need to follow his orders.

As if to emphasize this, he picked the seat right above you to plant himself in, effectively masking you from view and leaving you quite literally at his feet. You noticed that Hongjoong had returned to his regular demeanour, calm and collected, unlocking his tablet for full effect, and behaving as though you were not there at all. As one final alteration to the scene, he tossed your belongings into your bag which was now right by your head and began to take some abstract notes. It was at that moment that you heard the foreign conversation get louder, and in a couple of seconds, the door being clicked open to reveal some unfamiliar faces.

After spotting Hongjoong seated in the very centre of the second row, looking very authoritative, aura occupying the entire room, they cowered back into the corridor, with just one of them remaining to prop the door open and call out to him.

“Sorry, is there something happening in this room?”

“Oh, sure is.” he uttered, pretending as though his focus on some incredibly important task was broken, and he was doing the group a favour by entertaining their pesky inquiries.

The attitude carried across effectively, as the student lowered his head sheepishly, but not enough to prevent them from raising their arm to motion towards the back of the hall and ask one final time:

“So, it’s fully booked? We can’t sit… like… up there?”

“Booked. And I am afraid you cannot.”

Waiting through this exchange was becoming unbearable, and each second was equivalent to an eternity amidst your arousal. Careful to not disturb the man above you, nor the items strewn across the floor, you gingerly moved your legs closer together, and inched your hand to your sensitive bud, seeking for more stimulation and what you deemed to be a well-deserved release. You did not realise just how sensitive you were, for as soon as you grazed the area, you practically let out a whimper, the only thing stopping you was you slamming a palm over your mouth on instinct. Trying to emulate Hongjoong’s motions, mind replaying the scenes from only a few minutes ago, you were easing yourself into self-gratification, abdominal muscles tightening. But this build-up did not last long either, as through your blurred vision, you noticed Hongjoong glowering at you, eyes turned daggers. Not long after, a new pressure found itself on the back of your hand and on your pelvis in the form of his lacquered moccasin. It was a raw, hateful move that degraded you to nothing but an object to be stepped on, but something about the forcefulness and intent made you desire for the charming, devious man to do it again.

“If you check out the department library there is normally some space. You aren’t in psychology, right?” he turned his attention back to the student across the room, ignoring your existence aside from a nudge for you to remove your hand from your still-dripping pussy, which you, albeit with hesitation, did.

“You are right, we do history, but our building’s packed so we ventured out.”

“Ah, then let me point you in the right direction.” He began to rise, making a show out of the inconvenience their intrusion was causing, exaggerating his body language; before he could fully stand up straight, however, the student stopped him and apologised profusely, settling for a couple of verbal pointers. You were astounded by Hongjoong’s ability to swiftly manipulate the environment and the people around him – equal parts dangerous and impeccably professional. He could make a home in anyone’s psyche, especially yours.

Once the disturbance had disappeared from the vicinity of the hall, Hongjoong rose from his seat and made his way swiftly to the door, slamming it shut; you remained still, mind hazy from the brush with almost being caught in your lecherous performance. You recognised the clicks that followed as him locking it, and a rustling as him rolling down the blind for the miniature built in window. There was no way you were going to be disturbed now. The world narrowed in, no longer escaping the boundaries of antiquity harboured in the theatre. Even the clock, still carrying out its duties, no longer held the same overbearing meaning.

“At any point in time, did I say that you could touch yourself without my permission? Or are you so filthy that you want to gather a crowd?” his question hung in the air, as he, seething, returned to the row. Raising your head slightly, you could now see just how turned on he was, with his erection almost threatening to burst out of his trousers, and a hint of discomfort on his face as he continued to storm down to you, stopping when his feet hit your boots. It was incredible how much restraint he had shown up until this point, but the temporary loss of control, and your light naughtiness was the final straw.

“Get the fuck over here.”

He roughly grabbed you by your wrist and dragged you to the front of the hall. He looked positively livid, but simultaneously, there was a burning desire within him to just have his way with you. The longer he kept at prolonging your lack of stimulation, the more agonising his arousal became until he could not take it anymore and needed you to take care of his problem. As he shoved you to centre stage, giving your ass a couple of well-placed smacks strong enough to leave redness, he began to unbuckle his belt.

When you stood in front of him, he caressed your cheek with one of his hands, only to switch it to a tight hold around your throat, so unexpected that you could not restrain a yelp. Pressing in his thumb until he could feel the contours of your larynx, he watched as you shuddered in pleasure at the change in treatment. You really were phenomenal.

“On your knees.” He pushed you down, letting go and dragging a finger up to your chin, and soon enough you were looking up at him, eyes glazed over with a fiery lust, spelling total submission.

“You have just been taking, and taking, and taking. That’s not quite fair, is it? And on top of that you are being so unbelievably naughty, that I am not sure what to do with you.”

“Forgive me, Sir, I didn’t mean to.”

“Oh yes, you did. You can’t control yourself. Need it all at once. I do not think I can let go of that too easily. You need to make it up to me.”

Dragging the belt out, he took a step closer to you, taking a deep breath in. In contrast to his spitting accusations, he very carefully moved your hair out of the way as he wrapped the belt around your throat, hooked it through and tightened it until it took on the appearance of a leash. He gave it a few tugs to check for your response, giving you a lewd grin once you nodded and mumbled the ever so sweet:

“Please.”

Dragging you until you were only centimetres away from his barely concealed member, he gestured for you to finish undressing his lower half. With a quick nod you rushed to unbutton and unzip the clothing.

“Convince me that I shouldn’t just leave you here like the desperate whore you are, since you are so self-determined.” You bit back a response, as you slid Hongjoong’s underwear down, and were more than pleased with the sight before you. Yes, you indeed were a whore for this man.

Taking the throbbing cock into one of your hands, you rubbed the ample amount of precum across its entire length, giving special attention to its base, which elicited a satisfied hiss from Hongjoong, and a lazy tug on the accessory around your neck. Understanding it as a silent command to hurry up, you leaned in and licked the tip, glancing up and batting your eyelashes as though you were the picture of innocence.

It drove Hongjoong wild, watching you as your mouth took over, with your tongue caressing the member up and down while you adjusted to his size. You had not even taken him in fully yet, and he was already concerned with just how desperate he was for more. Unable to sustain the leisurely pace which you had selected, he took a fistful of your hair with his free hand and tightened the belt with the other, yanking you back until just his tip was between your lips, to peer into your eyes. There you were, all pretty, jaw slackened to take him in, terrified that you had done something to wrong him any further. Hongjoong chuckled, high off the control he had, and in one swift motion shoved his length into your mouth until it hit the back of your throat, making you choke momentarily and have tears spring to your eyes.

“Do you think your sorry attempts are eloquent enough? I need to see better than that.” He challenged between laboured breaths, holding you in place.

The contraction of your throat, every shudder from your body, and finally, the vibration you emitted when you hummed in understanding before beginning to bob your head back and forth were unbelievable, overriding any fantasy he had developed before experiencing the real you. The stark difference between the you – a diligent student, an attentive tutee, a young, classic lady, and the you – a sex-driven fiend, an adorably acquiescent star of his consciousness, a vixen hidden behind a supposedly pure image, was making the sight even more addictive.

“Aahh… fuuuck, baby girl…” he muttered as you aided yourself with your hands, one running over and massaging his balls, while the other remained at the base, providing a rhythmic, slow pump.

Instinctively, Hongjoong rolled his hips to further speed up the movement; this time you were ready to take it, mouth widening and tongue lapping at his delicious cock, now lubricated by your hot spit. Your eyelids were growing heavier as your own desire began to build once more. The moans that the man was trying to muffle so as to not lose his sanity to you while he throat fucked you were a haunting melody to your ears that you undoubtedly would be hearing for weeks on end. You needed to be good to him and coax out a crescendo, you did have forgiveness to beg for, didn’t you?

The heat inside your core was growing steadily, making you squeeze your kneeling legs together to provide at least some support. The action did not go unnoticed by Hongjoong who let out an airy chuckle and brushed some stray hairs out of your face.

“You really are such a slave to my dick, aren’t you? Eating it up… such a good cocksleeve…” the words inspired you to go faster, seeking for more praise to fall from your master’s lips. He gripped the belt for dear life, making the friction around your neck rise, along with sinful sounds coming with each pump as you started deepthroating him almost entirely on your own, his hand that was on the back of your head merely following along with your motions.

He could sense that he was getting close, the aching in his abdomen, tingling in his extremities turning his vision into a blurry mess that would unlikely be fixed even if he were to perch his lenses back onto his nose. But he was far from done with you, as much as he wanted to shoot strings of his cum into your oesophagus and watch you swallow it all like a good girl. Unwillingly he grabbed your locks again, and guided you away from him, nearly regretting it when he heard you whine. Like you were the one who was being pleasured. Truly, one of a kind. Breathless and pouting.

“Are you ready to deliver a presentation, baby girl?”

“What-” confused, you asked, but after being reminded by the choking of the belt, added “sir?”

“Tell me what fucking theory you follow,” he retorted, huffing, and made you get off the floor, “now, up, c’m’ere, pet.” Treating you every bit like an animal, he pulled on the makeshift leash and took you to the lectern, moving behind it and making you face the hall. Now that you were standing there did you realise just how vast the space was, how many ghosts of inquisitive eyes there were, one in each seat. How willing you were to put this show on and embed it into the walls, the floor, the ceiling. Turn it into an altar of sin that you wanted to never leave.

“Bend over… that’s right, good girl.” He instructed you to lean forwards onto the wooden structure, and you automatically placed your hands on its edges. Spreading your legs, you enthusiastically gave Hongjoong access to your wet pussy, and sighed as he flipped your skirt up once again. Finally, you were about to get your fill.

You heard the crinkling of what could only be some kind of wrapper behind you, and glanced, curious. Hongjoong was in the process of rolling a condom over his rock hard member, shutting his eyes as he stimulated it. Smirking at you, he explained:

“See, I’ve been bringing these to all of our little meetings lately. There’s not enough time in the world to describe in just how many ways I want to ruin you, Y/N.” he chose to utter your name instead of the substitutes, voice dangerously low. He wanted you to remember this as a promise that he was not going to hold himself back anymore. Both of you wanted to live and fuck with no limits. You bit your lower lip, hiding a lustful grin.

“Show me an example, sir.”

That was enough for him to let go of the belt, leaving it to hit the lectern and dangle under you and take you roughly by the hips. Using one hand he positioned his cock right by your entrance, running it over your folds a couple of times, and without further hesitation pushed deep into you, bottoming out. Awestruck at how good you felt with your cunt clenched around him, he failed to stop a guttural groan from escaping him, which in turn made you respond with a few whimpers and a grinding of your backside, adding to his growing high. Slapping you back into submission, he pulled out fully, only to shove himself back in, revelling in the tightness of your walls.

“Don’t test me, sweetheart,” he warned barely present as he began to thrust with a slightly higher frequency, pressing himself flush against you every time.

You were barely remembering to breathe as Hongjoong’s pulsing cock was being pounded into you, stretching you out repeatedly. More on edge than ever before, you were feeling every touch, every graze, every exhale of his that could reach you. He was in a similar state, air knocked out of him as he rocked harder and harder into you until the temporary break after his prior build up was long gone. To curb the wave that was about to take over him, he bent closer to you. His clothing fell over your back as he teased your soaked pussy with his tip, it twitching from the contact. Missing the perfection that you offered, he could not keep up this game much longer, sliding his pulsating cock back between your soaked folds.

Beads of sweat were beginning to accumulate on Hongjoong’s forehead from the sheer heat of your bodies moving in tandem, your moans forming a harmony. The teasing was fanning the flames, the approach of your climax accelerating. He took the end of the belt again and tightened the collar-like hold it had on you, making your vision darken at the edges. Almost immediately he let go, intuitively knowing the limit of restriction. You adored the feeling of being his fuckdoll, existing as a vessel for the filthy noise your pussy was making as he continued to penetrate you. He moved a hand to your swollen clit to rub languid circles over it, and slammed his dick deeper into you, making you yelp at the heightened stimulation.

"Funny how autonomy is a basic need, and yet you are so willing to give it up for that same satisfaction. Are you that drunk off my cock that you lost rationality?

"Yes... Hong..joong... ah fuck! Sir!" You yelped when he suddenly bucked his hips upwards, delivering a particularly well aimed stroke that hit your g-spot.

As you gripped onto the lectern until your knuckles turned white, Hongjoong began to pick up his pace. He nudged one of your feet, a signal to spread wider, and placed one of his own on an elevated part of the platform, giving him a new angle, and fully unlocking the path to your orgasm. His touch was hot against your skin, with him continuing to abuse your overly sensitive bud, and the other surely leaving marks as he pressed his fingers into your waist.

“No more sirs, Y/N, aahhh shit, I want to- mfph, hear you scream my name. Yell who you belong to.” He commanded, going harder than ever. You tried to answer, but no sound came out of your mouth as you were enveloped in the ecstasy. He was immaculate, taking you apart how you had dreamt of him doing. Your arousal was unbearably close, and all you could think about was how Hongjoong’s cock was stuffing your sex, which was begging for release.

The knot in your stomach was about to burst; you followed the beautiful man’s demands and chanted his name like a mantra, fluctuating between barely audible and soaring to squeals at the top of your lungs, echoing right back at you and blending with Hongjoong’s carnal growls. He was catching up with you, his own desire starting to overflow. As your movements started to falter, he read you instantly, adjusting himself so that one arm was out to support you, while the other continued to help you in reaching that explosion of all senses. You grew completely silent as the awaited orgasm shook you, tightening all muscles, a knee-buckling attack, effectively immobilising you.

“Good girl, Y/N, come for me. Ah- you’re so damn beautiful.”

It was almost possible to count the constellations racing in your eyes from the overstimulation, which not even a forehead pressed onto the cool surface of the lectern could subdue. Your juices started to stream out of your overfilled pussy and treacle down your thighs. Hongjoong was entranced by how you were letting him enjoy you to the fullest, even after you have reached your peak. You were better than anything he could have hypothesised. You were his motivation.

“Fuck, Y/N, I’m about to-” he mustered before it all hit him, and he pulled you into an embrace to prevent himself from shaking too violently, whispering ‘Y/N’.

Your aroma, the fucked out, glazed over haze written all over you was making him want to fall in love because shit, you were perfect. To reel himself back into reality he shifted his focus back to you, even though his member was still throbbing aggressively, hitting your leg as he side stepped away. He became ever so gentle, removing his belt from your throat and peppering kisses over your shoulders, your neck, your face. He retraced the love bruises he had left, now tenderly pecking each one.

“You’re so wonderful, you know that?” He mumbled into your ear, unsure if you could even register that he was speaking to you, but your soft hum proved otherwise. “Thank you, Y/N, my sweet,” planting a kiss on your cheek, and then turning you for another on your lips, he expressed his gratitude, and helped you down into a seated position at the base of the lectern when you stated you needed a moment to recover.

Your eyes followed Hongjoong’s form, as he waddled from the bin to dispose of the condom, to the box of tissues tucked away on a shelf by the door. While he cleaned himself up, and as soon as he was fully dressed, moved to wipe away your release, you pondered how this all unfolded. You had been incredibly silly to think he did not want you, that was certain. Even now, on a post-coital high he was taking care of you diligently, moving away only to rush to take your clothes from where you had thrown them. He was treating you like the most fragile, precious being on this earth, a total contrast to a few minutes ago.

The clock, abandoned by its previously dedicated followers, was still ticking away but you and Hongjoong did the impossible, and remained in your shared hour. That was all either of you wanted, and felt you needed. Your breathing levelled out, and you leaned back, letting both your hands drop to either side of you. Hongjoong joined you, and cautiously took one of them, intertwining your fingers together. In a soothing pattern he ran a thumb over the back.

“Thank you.” You finally managed, to which Hongjoong beamed, and squeezed your digits.

You sat together in silence, sinking into the dimming surroundings, at ease, blissful.

“So… same time next week?” you wiggled your eyebrows and chuckled.

“Let me take you out for dinner first, say tonight?”

“I’d love that… but, so soon?”

🌌 nsfw tags: sub!mingi, dom!reader, mingi is a pretty princess, pet names, degradation(mingi receiving), cunnilingus, protection IS USED, one night stand energy, mistress, a lot of dirty talk, teasing, denial, overstimulation.

You were the centre of the universe. A modern-day Venus, swaying your delicious hips in time to the music, arms in the air spelling seduction. The earth-shattering bass was resetting your intoxicated heart like a defibrillator. The kaleidoscopic haze was surrounding you and embracing you like the sweetest hit of anaesthesia right before you went under. Nothing existed except you and the gazes that were scanning you, devouring every inch of your body as you made the dance floor your bitch once again.

It was all but a blur, just how you liked it.

The neon was your weekly escape, something of a routine that you had established with a couple of your closest friends: Wooyoung and San. You three were the lives of any party, igniting the atmosphere and not letting the scalding hot flame die out until you said so. And even then, in the hearts of all those lucky enough to witness your miraculous, dizzying passion would linger the burning remains of an unforgettable night.

Over time, your trio had established ground rules and fool-proof strategies for how to get the most out of any night out. From the elaborate preparations, dressing to the elegant elevens but ready to offer just the right amount of sleaze if need be. To the selections of drinks that give just the right buzz without letting you lose your head. To your personal favourite – the complex tango of aiding one another to capture the next beauty and wring their everything dry until they knew nothing except you, Wooyoung or San. All to experience the satisfaction of hearing another heart break the next morning.

This was your idea of love – a hit every Friday night, a fuck with no strings attached. If what drove them wild was for you to call them your beloved - you did not care. Things said in the night died a small death and turned to ghosts in the morning. Remaining in the afterglow. At least you did not have to remember their name. Their bodies also faded from your memory quickly enough. So, you came back, again, and again. In search of a wondrous, lust-filled temporary high.

It was the same tonight. Same club, same throngs of bodies glistening in sweat under the strobe lights, just belonging to different people. The DJ had recognised you, so he changed the set to play a couple more of your favourite songs. His wolfish gaze revealing a lot more than he wanted. Oh, how simple all these people were. And how easy they were to wrap around your finger. If only you had the same drive today. But San’s girlfriend, well now ex-girlfriend, decided that today, of all days of the week, was just right to break up with him, and Wooyoung being his roommate could not leave the blubbering dejected mess alone.

No amount of convincing could coax the two out of hiding in their newly renamed ‘bachelor’ pad. Not wanting to let the two buzzkills completely destroy your energy, you still tugged on your best dress, and strutted in, head held high, hair in captivating locks. There was something truly devilish about you, and you were normally not afraid to use it to your advantage. But there was something different about tonight. Probably because you had to settle for the company of another one of your friends. Someone a lot more demure, for the lack of a better word.

Even though it was a six-foot-tall man with a toned physique and the most attractive hands that you were talking about, you could not help but think of him as a pretty little princess. He was just so untainted, so harmless and prey-like. You could feel his nervousness whenever you approached. His fluttering eyelashes, a quick, shy bite of the lip as he attempted to conjure up a response to whatever you asked. This was Song Mingi. A friend who you had no idea how you made, and why he stuck around still.

He had just appeared one day, an acquaintance you had met through one of those closest to you back in university. Funnily enough, it was the mutual friend that you had ceased to speak to. Mingi was doing a different major, had a different lifestyle, behaved differently, even interpreted things differently, but he had been accepted into the group, nonetheless. Probably because one of your friends had an undeniable thirst for him. Not that he had ever noticed though.

Mingi had always been like that. A gentle creature. A ball of cuteness. If your whole friend group had ever sat together, it was always as though there was one soft, fluffy cloud amidst hurricanes, tornados and thunderstorms. Not a single drop of rain on anyone’s parade. He had the desire to please, and would always volunteer to do errands for others, even if it was so far out of his way it was foolish to do so.

He had stopped once you had explained to him that others were using him. Including your own friends. You had pointed out that he had the power to refuse, and that they were not going to admonish him, as a matter of fact, they would not particularly care. Mingi had taken your words as gospel, and since then, had taken to treating you like his saviour of sorts. Or at least that was how you had initially seen it.

First thing he had done for you after you had merely pointed out the obvious was gotten you your go-to order at the café near campus. How he knew or had found out – you never managed to pry out of him. Then there had been the ‘accidental’ (read: intentional, because Mingi looked like he had been loitering in that corridor for a weirdly long time) run ins during your transits from one lecture hall to another, so that he could walk with you to your class.

The attention had been a bit much at first, but you had grown to accept it as usual ‘Mingi behaviour’. After all, he was the princess, the fluffy cloud, the ray of sunshine. That had to be just how he was. And as such, you had never taken him seriously. A couple of your friends had pointed out that maybe he was trying to make advances, but you shut that down rapidly by reminding them that you had no desire to love, nor could you see anyone wanting to love you.

You had never seen that side of your life be so peachy. It was almost as if you had been born into heartbreak and were nurtured by it. The antithesis to love was where you had comfortably resided for so long, and only stepped out to reach for comrades in misery. That was how you had found your people. Your chaos. These amazing idiots with whom you could share everything, and they would accept you for the idiot that you were. And having someone from the other side, from so-called ‘paradise’, trying to trace your steps and meet you halfway – it felt wrong. It was wrong. It was not what you had written out for yourself in your own blood and conviction after you had seen and felt too much. You made a decision and turned it into an aspect of your identity. Like some people were awfully co-dependent, or mentioned their significant other in every sentence, you were proudly solo. Unaffected by that nonsense.

It was not meant for you, that whole ‘written in the stars’, sappy romance, soulmates bullshit. All of that was mere theory. A concept invented by some people who had no idea how reality worked. Your reality was all about giving into carnal pleasures if you needed to relieve some stress or craved some intimacy. The emotional satisfaction came from being with your crew. Your collection of people who were ride or die. As time had shown, even that could not last forever. At least you still had San and Wooyoung. The two who had you had instantly clicked with.

The two who were currently sitting at home, with San probably watching some guilty pleasure drama and sobbing into a plushie while Wooyoung had likely made his killer dakgaejang for the ultimate comfort. Thereby officially abandoning you and leaving you to your own devices. Well, almost. Tonight had to be the night when you had all agreed to invite Mingi along after a few months of his stagnancy in that department. Your trio wanted to show him how to unwind and have a good time. But now that responsibility fell solely to you, and you could not help but feel a little awkward. No matter how hard you tried, you could not get the man to loosen up. And in turn, he was ruining all plans you had in finding yourself a little fun.

With the glares he inadvertently sent every potential midnight suitor who approached you, Mingi was acting every bit a pouting, jealous boyfriend. This had only gotten worse after he had a couple of drinks. His eyes were only ever following you. Tracing your curves as you grinded against yet another ‘possibility’, trying to see where it could go. But that stare. It would not leave neither your body, nor your consciousness. From your position on the dance floor, you could only barely make out his form, leaning, arms crossed, against a black pillar. But it seemed that no matter what you did, Mingi would still find you. Much like he had done in the past and acted like your loyal puppy. A pesky little sunray.

With no success after a total of five songs, you decided to retire to the side lines and take a breather. Sauntering over to Mingi, you pointed at his hand, and received your drink that he had been keeping safe. A refreshing dilution of whatever the beverage was supposed to be. After taking a greedy sip, you spotted a more secluded seating area in one of the corners of the venue, which had not been reserved nor was occupied, and strode on over before anyone had the same idea as you. You did not need to check if Mingi was behind you. The only answer, ever, was yes.

Crash landing onto one of the couches, nearly spilling what you had left of the liquid nonsense, you gave a little yawn. It was a little too early for you to be getting bored, but without Woo and San to be the two devils on your shoulders and wingman collaborators, you were contemplating calling it a night and just leaving. If Mingi wanted to stay for a little longer he could: he was a big boy who could go clubbing on his own. But to you, the past couple of hours have been a continuous mission failed.

“Hey, if you are feeling tired, we could-”

That choice of pronoun, ‘we’, rubbed you the wrong way. You did not need this ‘we’ right now. You needed another someone, anyone to make that ‘we’ happen.

“Nah, don’t worry about me I just needed to sit down for a second. All that dancing and not taking a break? That’s how you know a person is on something.” You gestured at the dance floor again to emphasise your point.

From a distance, it really did look like an unstoppable, pulsating jelly fish that emanated neon fluorescence. Your natural habitat. Your rhythm. Fuck it. You were going back. You did not want to be in the company of this cutesy dullard. At least not right now. In a few quick moves, Mingi was left standing alone by the couches, as you clicked your heels across to the dance floor, joining the chaos once more.

How breath-taking you looked. Mingi was stunned as your lithe form glided past him, in that little black dress that beautifully hugged your figure. You were royalty under the moonlight. A seductress out on the prowl, unknowingly having laid claim on his soul long before you had ever thought you could. Mingi had never understood how he had fallen so hard for you, but this was an abyss that he would never be able to get out of, as every waking day gave him a new reason to love you.

He had been the only one out of his school to go to the university that he did, and since it was a distance away from the family home, he had to move, live alone, work alone, sit alone. There had been some positive aspects to that lifestyle, like he had all the time in the world to study, but the loneliness began eating away at him, gnawing into his anxieties until it had become almost unbearable. That was when he had reached out to someone he knew had good social networks in the university, and in a matter of weeks had found himself a group to be in. Your group, to be more specific. Everyone had been welcoming, but he had convinced himself that he could not be anything except a burden, and as such he had turned into something reminiscent of a butler. A boy at beck and call, just because he wanted to have friends and thought he had to continuously prove himself worthy. It was exhausting, but once he had started, it was near impossible to stop. People got used to good things far too quickly.

But then, there was you. An angel who had taken him by the hand and led him out of the maze of his own making. The only one who had stepped in. The one who had shown they cared. At first, he just wanted to show you his gratitude and help you out as best as he could in return for your gesture, but the more time he spent with you, the more he found out about you, the more he ended up wanting everything to do with you. Sure, you had presented yourself as being above feelings, he knew that, but he was not bothered by it. It was your comfort that mattered to Mingi. If that meant keeping everyone besides a select few friends at arm’s length, then so be it. At least it was your arm, and you were not refusing his company entirely.

That was how he had ended up being a sort of satellite to your system. A little moon orbiting around you while you and your friends were a galaxy, and order of planets. It was clear that the group was not as impressive as it had been, and that he was still the odd one out, nevertheless, social outings were still being organised, and he could sometimes attend them. His heart had swelled when you, Wooyoung and San had reached out to him with an invite to a night club. And now, even more so that the duo could not make it, albeit for an upsetting reason.

Mingi knew why you went to this club in particular. It had a good crowd, quite a few ‘lookers’, and people did not hesitate to spend their money. You had frequented it enough times for you to be very amiable towards nearly all staff, even recognising that one of the barmen was a new hire and wishing him luck. You were so amazingly attentive, and your ‘focus face’ had not changed at all since Mingi had known you. Forever his first love that never seized to threaten to break out of his chest in a burst of pent-up affection.

Of course, there was another reason why you were here, one that did not sit quite as well with him and was why he was rather sulky and unable to appease you in being more carefree and becoming one with the heavy beat that was roaring over him. And it was that you had your focus trained on others. Studying man after man for their ‘potential’, checking their energy or whatever it was that you could feel through their trousers. You were a dangerous balance of audacious and coquettish, able to physically entice and mentally capture.

But the disgusting, lascivious leers that those you tested the waters with sent you, and them groping your ass, snaking their arms around your waste, or openly palming their groin as they approached you was about to make Mingi go insane. Was this the kind of treatment you suffered through every single Friday night just to satisfy your own needs? Did you have to listen to drunkards call you vile names just for a night of passion? He could not comprehend how anyone could ever deserve it just because they wanted something special.

Fuck it. He could not stand you being attacked in that way anymore. He needed to join you on the dance floor before this could continue. Not for one second could he believe that you were enjoying this. It was dangerous. It was degrading. It was… it was not the you that had been his friend. It was the you that had evoked a different kind of desire within him. An insatiable want for you, and you alone. As he stalked forwards, closer to the centre where you were currently swaying to the more melodic interlude of rhythm and blues as a man clearly double your age was trying to woo you, trying to roam your body with his grimy hands. One look to the left and there was another, a woman who looked to be in her early thirties, unabashedly looking you up and down, likely having undressed you a thousand times in her mind. You were unstoppable, but Mingi desperately wanted to try. So, he silenced his mind’s protests, tuning into a darker hedonism, and swept you away from where you had been dancing and pushing you deeper into the mass, making both of you disappear into its music-enchanted waves.

You were astonished at your friend’s bout of bravery. Raising an eyebrow in suspicion, you studied him as he tried his best to guide you in the dance, however failing to do so without a newbie’s rigidity. A smile crept onto your face as you placed both of your hands on his upper arms, taking note of the well-sculpted muscle concealed by his shirt, and slid them down, nice and slow until you could guide Mingi to rest his own hands right on your waist. Now tonight was getting interesting. Finally. Without as much as a one word exchange you two continued indulging in the trance, and as the song changed, and changed again, time allowed the two of you to completely sink into the addictive feeling.

When my eyes are on you

숨 막힐듯한 전율

Oh, you know you get me loose

Make me go 비틀비틀

It was a push and pull. You wanted to take Mingi to the limit. Since he finally wanted to communicate with your senses, you wanted to show him all that you could do, what this atmosphere could do. The electricity between you and him was undeniable, and as you got more confident in one another’s presence you had fallen into a shared rhythm, taking every breath together, translating every beat into body language.

A dance floor made for two

달이 부르는 선율

Oh, it's only me and you

Make me go 비틀비틀

This ray of sunshine called Song Mingi was glinting in a much more tantalising manner than usual. All that following you around did appear to do some good at least – he could match you well. Almost frighteningly well. His movements were smooth, and he was very light on his feet. And most importantly, he was fully immersed in being your dance partner, to the extent that a club had the space for and considered as paired dancing. At some point during the song, his gentle grasp on your hips had become more needy, and he transferred it to your hips, while still keeping time to the song. As he pushed you closer to him, you could feel heat rolling off his body, and spot a single bead of sweat making its way down the side of his face.

Without thinking about it much you moved to swipe it away, which made Mingi stiffen and falter. He responded to your touch, leaning his head in which you took to be a sign that at least you would have a good night in the club. He was not going to go anywhere and was at your mercy. Very loyal. And all over you. You did have to admit, that once he had dropped the observation game and acted, he was turning out to be a lot more of an exciting person to have around. On top of that, you were getting your fill of more personalised attention, with an enviable man as your companion.

Again, the song changed to a slowed rhythm and blues piece, and both of you took it as a sign to get even closer. Your arms were now draped over his shoulders and loosely crossed behind his neck, and your lower bodies were mere centimetres apart. The previous energetic sequence was all gone, replaced instead with an unmistakeable burning. As your orbs met his in a near-showdown fashion, you could see Mingi’s irrefutable change in demeanour. How did you not consider this man before? This other Mingi? It was like you were meeting somebody for the first time. Somebody who you would not mind making your body.

Your breath was becoming his breath as he inched closer and closer to you, so tentative as though he was asking permission for every tiny movement. He halted right when your noses were touching, and so dangerously close you could almost taste him.

Mingi was going into overdrive. His everything, you, were right within reach, and yet your soul was nowhere to be felt. You were a succubus, tempting him by the way you were toying with his hair, so carelessly, like you did not know what you were doing to him. Tempting him by the kittenish expression you wore, your half-lidded eyes hinting at a future that he had only dreamt of with you. His sinful fantasies about you had all awakened; episodes that he had drafted in solitude wanting to be re-enacted. How he yearned for your touch. For him to be able to melt into you and give himself up. Be only yours. Forever. So, you did not ever have to do what you had been doing all this time before tonight. He let out a shaky breath, affected by the lust that was already clouding his vision. Voice low, and a little hoarse, Mingi momentarily shut his eyes and whispered right against your cheek:

“Use me.”

You tried to step back a little, surprised at Mingi’s sudden proposition. But he would not let go, instead pressing you flush against his frame. You could now feel that he was not kidding, his blooming arousal greeting you through the layers of fabric. Because you had not responded to him, nor showed any signs of being interested, the notes of roughness in his tone disappeared entirely, leaving behind something closer to a whimper:

“Y/N… please. Use me. You… you don’t need anybody else. Can just use me.”

In awe, you were staring at Mingi. Now this was something you had never predicted for this Friday night. In your musings, you had bet that by now, you would have been in your own bed, watching a music show and drifting off to sleep. Not about to make a decision that could change the course of your life while in a not so lucid state of mind.

“Then tell me, darling, how do you want me to use you?” you asked back, hearing a sharp and shallow gasp from Mingi. He was unwinding right in your hands, and you had barely done anything.

“I’d rather show you, Y/N, if you will let me.” He mumbled, beginning to trace your jawline with soft, feathery kisses.

“And I’d rather bend you to my will.” The retort sent a shiver down his spine, and he ceased to pepper you with the manifestation of his desirous state. “After you take me to your place.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“I could get used to this. Lead the way, darling. Your place.”

With one arm wrapped around your waist, tracing abstract patterns on your dress, and the other being used as a wedge to part the tightly knit bodies, Mingi immediately answered to your request. He had not changed his positioning as he flagged down a taxi, and continued holding onto you, although now it was your hand in his, for the duration of the drive to his home. Whilst the tiny droplets of possessiveness masked most of Mingi’s disposition, there was an endearing aspect to it. In some ways, Mingi was like a little kid who had just discovered something extraordinary and was ready to tie himself to it to ensure that it did not disappear. Even with his present actions unveiling nothing but an unprecedented lust and unbreakable certitude, Mingi still had remnants of his day-time self clinging onto him. Which was the first thing you focused on ripping way once he had finished fumbling with the keys to his front door.

You were tightly bound in each other’s arms. The air was thick with anticipation while Mingi closed the door with his foot and haphazardly threw off his shoes. You followed suit, and upon having done so, observed your ‘human offering’. You could see that he was not sure in how to proceed, having stopped midway through the entryway corridor, but the grip he had was on the contrary, more possessive. If he wanted to be used so badly, then he would not mind if you ruined him.

A harsh pull of the shirt collar and a stifled mention of your name later, your red-tinted lips locked in with his in a perfect harmony. In that moment, he was like your oasis, a discovery of a paradise after eons of suffering, a salve to your numerous wounds. The kiss swiftly transformed from the first phase of introductory exploration, luxuriating in the delectable tension, to a faster and more fervent collision of sexual ardour.

He was so malleable in your hands, giving into your control and honouring it with the unholy groans that were building up in his throat. To think that you had such an effect on someone and so quickly! It sparked a stronger desire to make him unravel and proudly share with you just how good, how satiated you made him feel. You wanted to hear him submit to you and follow your laws.

As you toyed with the hem of his trousers, pulling at the belt and letting your noticeably colder fingers glide against his skin, you elicited a growl from Mingi, who broke away from your lips to trail kisses down your neck and stopped right at the base, nuzzling into it and masking his responsive eagerness.

“Bed… room…” his demand came across more as a suggestion due to his feeble tone, but you felt nice, for now, and obliged, and let him take the lead in your tango across the living space and through the half-open door straight across from where you had been.

You were illuminated only by the moon and the streetlights that shone through the window, leaving you standing in an ethereal glow. Shadows that fell across Mingi’s face as he pulled away from you, his breathing ragged, only amplified the near-animalistic want etched onto him, another mark of his submission to you. He did not dare make a single move, again, standing in wait. An obedient boy, letting you turn his back to the bed, pushing him down until he was sat on its edge. You straddled him, your dress riding up to reveal the panties of a lacy lingerie set, and languidly grinded against him a couple of times to drive up his desire. He stifled a moan by biting his swollen bottom lip in an attempt to hide his craving for you, but that bashfulness was not on your agenda.

Motivated by his shallow pants, you slid your hands with fingers spread far apart under his white, now crumpled shirt, sliding them lazily up his torso, feeling for every ripple, every response to you. You stopped at his chest, paying particular attention to his nipples as you stimulated them, repeatedly making circular motions with your index fingers and pinching them until you saw Mingi tilt his head back a little and make haste to adjust his hold on you, moving to your voluptuous ass. Pushing himself against you he tried to chase his own high, giving into the first gifts bestowed upon him in the form of your caresses. But not so fast, you were not going to let him have so much fun so early on. Not when he had pledged to listen to you. To let him be your toy for the night. With a devilish smirk, you abruptly stopped, making Mingi’s eyes shoot wide open, and dart across your features. The nervousness did little to make you merciful, for instead you found you took pleasure in taking away what others enjoyed. He was confused, unable to read your expression. Just as he was opening his mouth, still decorated with your sweet saliva, you used his lowered guard against him and toppled him backwards. You took him by the wrists and pressed them by his head, right into the disturbed sheets. He looked so pretty under you. Pretty little princess. Those doe eyes, searching for an answer from you. A command. Anything.

“Did you not say I could use you, hm, darling? And now what do you think you are doing?” you purred, hovering over him.

Mingi let out a desperate hum and tried to buck up his hips against you. You knew that he could overpower you at any moment. And that made your present power of him that much sweeter. You held your ground and ignored the heat rising in your core. When he denied you a response, you removed your hold from one of his wrists, instead taking his chin and gripping it to make him see only you through his daze.

“I will repeat, what the fuck do you think you are doing, huh?” you were centimetres away, hissing the question right into his ear before softly exhaling, leaving a few kisses and cautiously biting the lobe. Mingi’s chest rose and fell sharply as he took in the sensation.

“I… I want you. I want you so bad, Y/N. Please.” He begged, letting his free hand rise to try hooking the strap of your dress, but before he could slide it down your shoulder, you switched your position again, now no longer holding him down, but tearing his shirt apart to feast your eyes.

“And where did your obedience go, darling? Do you think you deserve what you want?” you applied pressure on his clothed member, mocking how you could so easily ride him.

“I… sorry, Y/N, I cannot think, I-”

“Shut up. You said to use you. Who the fuck do you think you are?”

“Yours, Y/N I am yours-”

“That is mistress to you, you little bitch.” You snapped, back to peering into his clouded orbs. On instinct, you moved to give his throat some ‘affection’, applying light pressure on either side as you continued: “Pretending to be so innocent, whoring yourself out to me. I bet this is what you do on the daily, batting your eyelashes looking all pretty and in a matter of minutes becoming a lascivious little slut.”

“Y/N-” he yelped, but you were not having that kind of disrespect, so you tightened your rip and moved one hand behind you to fish for his belt.

“It’s mistress, darling.” You uttered, an ominous darkness dripping from your words. Mingi shuddered as he felt you masterfully removing the pesky accessory, discarding it with one throw.

“Okay, m-mistress, ah fuck…” he moaned as you let go of his throat and fully exposed his throbbing member, taking it in one hand and rubbing its tip with a thumb. He desperately wanted to see how you unwounded him, but you remained sat right on his pelvis, hiding your act with your body.

“Is this what you want, darling? Me pleasuring you? Me taking you apart with my touch?”

“Ah- yes! Yes, mistress!”

“What a good boy, see it was not so hard to learn. Now tell me how far do you want to go.” You broke your act just a little, to check if Mingi was still on board. You had no idea of his experience, nor of his boundaries, so it was a matter of respect.

“All… all the way… Y/N, sorry, mistress.”

“Good. Then I expect you to follow my every command. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes.”

“Good little fuck toy.” You praised, sliding your hand down his dick, spreading his precum down the length and giving him one pump, only to fully remove yourself from his body and sit on your knees by his side. You traced his abdomen as you pondered out loud, amused at his dedication – he was not moving a single inch, wrapped up in your presence.

“I have been far too generous, don’t you think? Giving you all the pleasure, whilst you are making a mess and not thanking me for all I have done. Filthy.”

“Thank you. Thank you so much, mistress.”

“For what?”

“For treating me so well. For making me feel so good-”

“Oh, you eager little slut, such a pleaser. Sweet talking your way into getting some more. How greedy!” you laughed, crawling closer to his head and running your fingers through his locks. “I will need a lot more than that to forgive you for being so demanding.”

“Anything.” He answered airily.

“Then make me come with that mouth of yours. Show me what your tongue can really do.”

“Yes, please, mistress.”

“Tsk-tsk, how cute. Then on your knees, darling right there. In front of the bed. So I can see just how delightful you look worshipping my cunt.”

In a matter of seconds, he was making his way off the bed, and simultaneously discarding the rest of his clothing that you had unbuttoned. Stark naked, he dropped to the ground, just as you had commanded him to. The moon illuminated him once more. A lustful little angel.

You took your time in removing your dress, feigning a lack of want. As if you were doing Mingi a favour by being here, and by letting him eat you out. You wanted to make it a point that your orgasm was his highest reward, and that he better get used to it quickly if he wanted to be used by you. Mingi gaped at you as you were left in your bra and panties, the article now leaving barely anything to the imagination. On all fours, you crawled towards him, every bit a dangerous wildcat ready to pounce. Before taking a comfortable seat for your pleasure, you cupped his chin once more and pulled him into a sultry kiss, tilting your head to seek entrance with your tongue.

Mingi gripped the sheets and tried to rise to pull you closer into him, but upon seeing the too positive response, you sat right back, and slid your legs down into position. You rested your weight on one arm, while the other absent-mindedly played with Mingi’s hair as he placed his hands on your thighs, and began to take your panties off. For a couple of seconds, you played along, sitting up slightly so that the material could escape from under you, but just as he thought he had it all in his power, you stopped him by yanking him to attention by the hair.

“Now, not so fast, did I say I wanted to see what your hands could do?”

“No, mistress.”

“Exactly. Use your mouth, pretty boy.” He obliged, even going so far as to put his hands behind his back. He took the material between his teeth, and worked at it, little by little, downwards, until it appeared as though he was bowing to you, right at your feet. In one final move, Mingi tugged them off you, and rose up once more, an entertaining look of pride on his features.

You committed each step of this intimate sequence to memory and continued watching the show that he was putting on for you. The throw of the panties away from him with a move of the head, his gaze trailing down your body, his kitten-like nudges to your thighs, pleading you to spread them further apart. Not wanting to wait any longer, you did as much, and wriggled yourself forwards a tiny bit more.

As he kissed your clit and ran his hot tongue between your already soaked folds, you realised just how riled up you were. He would do anything for you, and that turned you on unbelievably. You tightened your jaw and shut your mouth to suppress any sound as you let your head fall back a little, your hair streaming down behind you in a waterfall. He was lapping up your nectar like a parched man, not leaving a single bit behind. With a flick, he switched his attention back to your aroused bud, and began to circle it with his tongue, occasionally pursing his lips to give the sensitive blossom intemperate sucks.

It was challenging to hold back any more of your sinful moans as he returned to your wet hole, penetrating it with his tongue and twisting in an unrepeatable motion. You felt your core begin to tighten, as a high was alerting you of its imminence. You tugged gently at Mingi’s soft hair and praised him for being such a good little boy, such a good darling, for fucking you so good with his tongue.

His delighted hums sent a vibration against your dripping cunt, and you groaned in pleasure, only making Mingi pick up his pace. His tongue was moving in and out, gliding against your folds and playing with your clit. As he buried his face in your pussy, wanting nothing more than to drown in your juices, your climax was fast approaching. As your breaths turned shallower by the second, and you pressed Mingi’s head right against you, he took the signal and gave your clit one final lick and curled his tongue upwards, right inside your hole. He was beckoning you, begging you to cum for him.

“Ah fuck, Mingi I-” his name slipped out of your mouth as you gave into the awaited orgasm, shuddering at the unforgettable feeling. He reacted to your exclamation with unexpected vigour, kissing your sex and hastily drinking in your release. This further stimulated you as you let go of him and leaned back onto your elbows, to not fully collapse.

Taking deep breaths in, you composed yourself and returned from your high. You glanced at Mingi, whose lips were glistening with your wetness. He dared to give you a shy smile after noticing your observation, like he was awaiting more praise for his hard work.

“What a good little slut my pretty boy is. Making mistress really happy.” It was hard to keep your voice steady, but you tried your best, seeing as you had to maintain dominance.

“And I am so happy too mistress. Thank you… can I ask something?” he inquired, as you rose onto your knees again and unclasped your bra, making him lose track of his thoughts for a moment.

“Go on ahead.” You enjoyed when men scrutinised your so hungrily. How your shapely breasts managed to make them forgive and forget anything you wanted them to. As you watched Mingi swallow some spit, eyes trained on your chest, you began to knead them for full effect, “you were saying?”

“Oh… I… I liked when… when you called me by my name… mistress…” he forced out, rising up onto his feet as you motioned for him to do so with your index finger. Now this was problematic. You never liked using your temporary lovers’ names during sex, as you felt it to be a little too personal. Yes, there had been times when it slipped, but Mingi had been the only one to take notice and express his liking of the fact.

“Well, one time’s enough baby boy. You need to work harder for me, you hear me?” you turned the game around, evading the possibility of him asking you to stop with the pet names and degradation. After what looked to be a flash of disappointment, Mingi returned to his obedient state and mumbled a low ‘yes mistress’.

You commanded that he lied down, just as he had before, his member now completely in the air and almost unbearably hard. You moved to sit right before it, your legs spread and straddling his thighs, pussy just within reach. But not just yet. You had a little more you wanted to do; you wanted to return the favour – you were just that nice.

Mingi was in a state of pure bliss as you spat on his cock and rubbed the viscous liquid over it. It was only a matter of moments before you heard him emit a low, husky moan. He cursed at the feeling, eyes rolling back a little as he gave into you, again. It was almost more pleasurable watching him plead for you to go faster than satisfying yourself. How his cheeks flushed a deeper shade of pink when you played with his tip. How he shivered when you decided to give his dick a blow of cold air, making Mingi’s mind go into a frenzy. He wanted you to take him whole, bucking up his hips as he noticed you moving closer, but that only made him receive a slap on his abused member, and a sharp command:

“Princess. I make the rules here. And if for one second you think that I am going to let your whored out dick touch my lips, I will not hesitate to punish you until you can’t walk.” You threatened, and continued pumping rhythmically as you heard a series of melodic whines in response.

He was so easy to read. Spread on the palm of your hand, a simple, innocent Song Mingi. So, you knew exactly when to cut his pleasure short, abruptly recoiling and removing your legs to be positioned to his right. You observed his pulsing cock as Mingi cried out in frustration, moaning for you to continue, just a little bit longer.

“Silence, darling. I am bored again, and I think you will like what I am planning.” You explained, twisting at the waist to reach for your handbag that you had thrown in the direction of the side table in the corner.

Upon fishing out a condom and unrolling it on Mingi’s member, you thanked your lucky stars that it was the right size. The friction made him tense up again, and you chuckled. So sensitive. So malleable. All yours to use for the night.

“Are you ready, darling?” you threw the question out in a manner similar to that of asking about someone’s day. Like this really meant nothing to you. Even though your core was pleading for you to hurry up.

“Yes, mistre- ah!” he could not finish his answer as you directed his cock right outside your entrance, and eased it in.

As you took Mingi’s whole length, you put your hands on his abdomen, and peered over, glazed over from the sensation of him filling you up, against your walls in all the right places. You needed a moment to get used to it, as the impossibly ideal match left you on the verge of sanity. The heat of your pussy, and its clenching as you wiggled a little to get your positioning just right was making Mingi see stars, detuning from any reason or logic that he may have had left. Now, there was only you and him. Bound by the night.

You commenced your ritual. The sensual rise and fall of your body as you engulfed him more and more with every move. His whimper as you rocked forwards to glide over his length made you groan in response, and you leaned in to kiss him, still managing to taste your own climax on those soft lips. Before you could move away, he cupped your face and pulled you in closer, nearly making you lose balance – you had to move up and push into his chest.

He gazed right into your eyes. It felt like a fire, burning through you. You were comfortable with lust, and had seen it many times before, but there was something deeper, something more lethal behind Mingi’s carnality. But in your present disorientation, you dismissed it as a building thrill to accompany the knot that was steadily growing within you. It was impossible to look away as he powered through the numbing gratification and kept you level with him. The way he looked to be committing you to memory, your every freckle and blemish forming constellations in his universe, was almost frightening.

As your pussy began to pulsate with more frequency around his member, Mingi clenched his jaw and let out a low growl. Unable to stay at the same pace any longer, but still having to remain in his place, he began to toy with your breasts, just as you had done while undressing him, flicking the sensitive nubs until you dug your nails into his skin, feeling the stimulation totally collapsing on you.

“Y/N… please… please mistress… can I… can I please fuck you harder. I want to make you feel so good. As best as I can…” he pleaded, his wish being granted almost instantly as you guided him back to your hips.

Just as you had done while moving a little way up before, he rocked you in the same direction, his length almost completely escaping you, only to be sheathed back again. As he got more comfortable with you in his grasp, he picked up his speed, the gentleness being replaced by steady pounds. He rolled his body up against you, joining you in the race to a long-awaited high. Your moans were becoming uncontrollable as you struggled to stay on top of him, which led him to flip you over and take his position on the bed. You were too hazy to protest as he kissed your neck, your cheeks your nose, your lips, and intertwined his fingers with yours as he quickened his pace even more.

The sound of your juices being pumped again and again was making you and him lose your minds, feral from the sexual delight. You could not care less that he was now groaning out your name with every stroke, and that his face was showing nothing but adoration. You were using him, after all, he had to fit to your demands. And how he was now having his way with you was making you go mad with lust. Your cunt could not take this perfection much longer, and you could feel it cramp around Mingi’s dick, signifying your unravelling.

“Ah… shit… darling… I… I am about to...”

It was challenging to find the words, let alone form them into a coherent sentence as you cried out and came undone once more. You wrapped your arms around Mingi’s broad shoulders, bringing him to you as you muted your yelps with his kiss. He continued pumping into you until he, too, began to falter, and soon enough was moaning right into you. Both of you collapsed into one another, your sweaty bodies becoming one in the moonlight as he relished in the feeling of your ecstasy warming his cock.

Using the last of the strength he had left, Mingi pushed himself off you and rolled over onto his back. Breathing heavy, you focused on the settling silence of the room. As your eyes had fully adjusted to the semi-dim illumination, you could finally take your surroundings in, and when your inhalation and exhalation returned to a reasonable pace, you could make out the noises of traffic coming from outside. Barely there, but a reminder that you were not on cloud nine.

It was time to clean up. You were quick to regain your senses, thanks what could be considered as training, while the same could not be said about Mingi. He was practically motionless, only the beating of his heart and breathing giving away that he was a living, but totally spent man. You removed the condom, tying it in a knot and throwing it in a bin you spotted in the corner.

It was fairly easy to find the bathroom, with its entrance being right outside. As you dolled yourself up again, which was pretty much just wiping away some mascara and eyeliner that had decided to stain your cheeks, you wondered whether Mingi was already asleep, or if he was going to meet you in the shower. Not wanting to wait, you took the liberty of stepping in and dousing yourself in the cooling water, careful not to ruin your hair more than it had already been tousled by passion.

No change. You unceremoniously dried yourself using the closest available towel, throwing it into the laundry basket under the sink. Mingi was definitely asleep. Or just so exhausted that he could not function. You chuckled to yourself, your ego swelling – a common occurrence on a Friday night for you. But a little seedling of suspicion had risen within you as you turned of the light and stalked back to the room. The intimate eye contact, the kiss to ride out the climax, the hand holding. This was a little… personal. Much like his reaction to you calling out his name. You were using him, you repeated to yourself. He just offered himself to you. A loyal friend, right? Helping another in need, apologising for cockblocking you for nearly the entire evening. What the fuck were you even saying? There was something off about this. You could not place a finger on it. But Mingi, poor Mingi, answered all your doubts in one go.

As you stood by the bed, about to lie back down to let yourself drift into a peaceful rest before exiting the scene in the morning, he stirred. You chose to not make any further motions to join him. You glanced at his form, now curled up and reaching towards the side where you had been. This pretty little angel. Who had fallen for the night to satisfy your sin. Just as you were about to step towards the window to take in the scenery, Mingi mumbled out the one thing you were terrified of.

“I love you… Y/N…”

Your heart stopped, and you froze in place.

You knew he was irrational. You knew he was fucked out and on the verge of slumber. Hell, you heard others say this to you before in a post-coital bliss. But something about how those three little words fell out of Mingi’s bruised lips tore at you, and how he said your name was a direct shot through the heart. By barely doing anything, just giving into his nature, his mind’s calling, Mingi made it clear that this really was a truth that he had harbouring for so long, and that only at his most vulnerable, while with you, could he reveal it.

In those couple of seconds that it took to utter the sacred confession, he had unlocked his world, one that revolved around you. If the past did not exist, and this was all a movie, the audience could almost believe that this was all domestic. That in a matter of seconds you would be crawling back into bed, to someone with whom you were sharing your life, to fall asleep in his embrace.

And not to be scrambling for your belongings that had been strewn around on the floor, careful not to alert your ‘not so much a friend anymore’. You felt panic rise in your throat as you let out a couple of shaky breaths.

“I love you”

Was it that easy for him to say?

“I.”

“Love.”

“You.”

Why were you so affected by it? Why was this the first time that these words, in that order, did matter?

You sent one apologetic glance over your shoulder as you tip-toed out of the bedroom, sex still heavy in the air. Your high heels were still in your hands as you crept out of Mingi’s apartment, out of fear that he could awaken at any moment, and you would not be able to stay indifferent enough to brush his pleas away.

Would he say your name in the morning?

Would he miss you when he realised you were gone?

Shit. You were in deep trouble.

You pulled down your dress a little, flipped one of the straps that decided it was not the time to look neat, and shoved the tights that you had not had the time nor the courage to stay and put on into your handbag. There was no chance you were going to stay in that same space as him. The adoration was borderline suffocating. It was so pure. So… honest. It made you sick to your stomach, and you were not sure if it was from disgust or from butterflies.

This was supposed to be just like any other Friday. A satiation of basic human instincts. A moment that was meant to be erased and the space filled by somebody else. But you had committed a fatal error. And you were sure of it. You had foolishly chosen Mingi: the one person who could not comprehend, nor have ‘no strings’ with you. In fact, all strings that he had ever been bound by led only to you.

In retrospect, it was obvious. All the years you had known him, he was always on your team. That silly boy. In university, he had brought you medicine when you were sick. Followed you and your ‘gang’ of troublemakers around almost like a groupie would follow a rock band. Stayed up with you in the campus library just to keep you company as you crunched out some report.

And now, even when life had thrown peers around different cities and countries and your friend group had whittled down to a tight-knit squad, he was still there. Loyal to you. Satisfied even if it was just you rejecting him repeatedly, selecting man after man, sometimes right in front of him, to bring home for the damned Friday night. All because at least before that moment, he could spend some time with you.

What were you thinking, falling for the trap of accepting a lover’s self-sacrifice?

A true libertine, you had chosen the primrose path of dalliance to tread. It was only a matter of time before you had to pay for it in full, for there was nothing in the world that could fix Song Mingi’s heart of gold if it were to break.

You stumbled outside of his apartment building, finally remembering to tug on the heels as your bare feet hit the biting cold concrete. It was barely three in the morning. Much earlier than you had ever left a one-night-stand’s place before. But this was different. In every way it was really fucking different. You hobbled away, cursing yourself over and over as you fished out your nearly dead mobile phone out of your bag, searching for the number of the only one you could call when the apocalypse was upon you.

He picked up after the third ring, just as you were passing under a streetlight. The roads were completely deserted, the residential district wrapped up in a cosy blanket until the morning. Somnolent trees lining pathways and sidewalks were barely rocking, and the only sounds that filled the air were the rumbles of distant traffic.

“Yeah? Y/N? What happened? You normally don’t call-”

“Wooyoung. I fucked up. Really badly. I really, really, badly fucked up.” You felt tears beginning to well up and sting you, threatening to spill over at any moment. Your friend was so concerned about you, launching to try and comfort you. It made you think back to those damn words that had imprinted themselves in your mind. Replaying again and again.

“Wait, wait, what happened, hold on? Are you okay? Are you safe? Where are you? San and I are coming to get you right now-”

“I slept with Mingi.” You cut him off. You were no longer walking; your legs were barely supporting you anyways.

“WHAT?” silence on the line as you heard shuffling and hushed, indecipherable whispers. “So, by that do you mean like, uh… heavy petting and foreplay or-”

“Since when does SLEEPING WITH SOMEONE mean THIRD BASE in our vocabulary, Woo?” you yelled, though without much conviction – you sounded too choked up.

“Fair point… well was it worth it at least?” you were not surprised that Wooyoung would inquire after that even when you were on the verge of melting down right on him.

“Oh, for fucks sake, YES, yes it was good. Very good in fact. More than good.”

“Then hey, at least that’s a positive. Then why are you so distressed? I know he has eyes for you but you know, so do like seventy percent of the guys at work.”

“He said he loved me.” You forced out, attempting to regain some nonchalance.

“No way.” Wooyoung muttered under his breath.

“Yes way.

“Fu-u-uck… Okay Y/N where are you this needs some wine and a good game plan.” You heard the rattling of keys and rapid footsteps. You tried to imagine the layout of your friend’s pad. Anything to get you away from what you had just done.

“I am… you know what let me send you my live location.” You could not bring yourself to take a single step back, even though you had seen a street sign. Going back would mean getting closer to him.

“Cool, stay put,” Wooyoung ended your conversation, but before hanging up you could hear him shouting at San to ‘stop sulking over that bitch there is a real catastrophe happening out there’.

No better words to describe it.

You used Mingi.