#madeinmyeon

“Go away, you’re sweaty!”

Chanyeol was laughing. He didn’t even pause as he headed straight for your bathroom, choosing it simply because it was a few feet closer than his own apartment down the hall.

“I don’t even get why you exercise so much,” you huffed, watching him disappear around the corner. “You haven’t changed at all since you started.”

That hit a nerve. “Say that again!” he shot back, his voice echoing against the bathroom tiles. “I’m gonna show you exactly how buff I’ve gotten.”

Within seconds, your phone began to vibrate uncontrollably in your hand. He was spamming you with every progress photo he could find, from his very first day at the gym to the most recent shot in his camera roll. You looked down at the screen as notification after notification popped up—it was a total digital ambush.

Of course, Park Chanyeol couldn’t just accept a defeat.

You were still wheezing, half-laughing at the sheer absurdity of his desperation, until your thumb swiped onto the most recent photo. The laughter died in your throat. You nearly choked on your own saliva, your eyes widening as the screen displayed something you didn’t expect. Among the mirror shots, he had accidentally included a nude—and yes, he was huge.

“See? Look at my forearm!” Chanyeol crowed, leaning over your shoulder to point at the screen. “You can’t tell me that’s not progress—”

His voice cut off with a sharp, strangled gasp.

“Wait—no, no, no!” he yelped. He lunged forward, his large hands scrambling to snatch the phone out of your grip. “Give me that!”

You managed to get out, though your brain felt like it had short-circuited. You pulled the phone back instinctively, your heart hammering against your ribs. “I-I didn’t mean to—you literally sent it to me!”

“I didn’t mean to send that one!” He looked like he wanted the floor to open up and swallow him whole, his face turning red. “I was just selecting everything in the 'progress' folder! I didn’t—I forgot—oh my god, just give it to me!”

Chanyeol lunged, his large frame blurring as he moved to snatch the device from your grip. You instinctively backed away, but your heel caught the edge of the rug, and you tumbled backward onto the sofa. Before you could scramble away, he was there—heavy and solid.

He didn’t mean to pin you, but in his desperation to reach your hand, he ended up hovering directly over you, his arms braced on either side of your torso.

Up close, the buff transformation he had been bragging about was a physical reality. He was radiating heat, his skin still glistening with a thin sheen of sweat from his workout that made the hard lines of his shoulders catch the light. He was all red—half from the exertion of his training, half from the sheer mortification of the photo—but he was also all him.

The scent of his cologne mixed with the salt of his skin filled your senses, dizzying and sharp. You looked up, and for the first time, you didn’t see your goofy best friend. You saw the expansion of his chest as he panted, the way his biceps flexed against the cushions, and the intense, dark look in his eyes as he stared down at you and your lips.

The atmosphere in the room shifted from frantic to suffocating in a heartbeat. Neither of you noticed the dull thud as your phone slipped from your numb fingers and hit the carpet.

Chanyeol tried to shift, but his thigh pressed firmly between yours, and you felt it—the rigid heat of his cock through his sweetpants, making a light moan escape your throat.

He lost it. He dived down, his mouth crashing against yours with a hunger that felt like he was starving. It was a claim, a desperate attempt to swallow the sound of your voice. Your fingers acted on their own, flying upward to tangle deep in his thick hair, pulling him closer until there was no air left between you.

Chanyeol let out a low, vibrating growl into your mouth, his tongue sweeping past your lips to find yours in a messy rhythm. Instinct took over as he began to rock his hips, settling himself firmly into the cradle of your thighs, groaning directly into your mouth at the friction, the sound rumbling through your entire body.

The heat radiating off him was driving you mad. Your hands slid down from his hair, your palms stinging as they grazed his damp skin, until your fingers hooked under the hem of his black shirt. You yanked it upward, peeling the fabric off in a flash and tossing it blindly into the shadows of the room.

Finally, your hands were free to explore. You traced the broad, hard lines of his shoulders and the deep ridges of his back, marveling at how solid he felt under your touch. He was warm, slick with the remnants of his workout, and every muscle you had joked about earlier was now twitching and tensing under your fingertips.

There was no need for words. In one fluid, powerful motion, Chanyeol gathered you up. You felt like jelly in his arms, your bones melting against the strength of his chest as he carried you the short distance to the bed.

The moment your back hit the mattress, he moved with a frantic hunger, his large hands hooking into the waistband of your sports pants and stripping them away in one sharp tug as you were taking your shirt and bra off. His dark eyes scanned the damp silk of your panties, seeing exactly what he had done to you. Then, he dropped.

Chanyeol buried his face against your cunt, the heat of his breath seeping through the fabric before his tongue followed, delivering a slow, firm lick right over your center. A jagged moan tore from your throat, vibrating through the quiet room.

“Chanyeol... please,” you gasped, your fingers clutching at the bedsheets as your hips arched instinctively toward him.

He looked up at you, his face flushed and his hair a wild mess, a dark, predatory smirk tugging at his lips. “Cute.” He reached up, his large hand splaying over your stomach, his thumb stroking your skin. “You’re soaking wet for me just from a few pictures?”

Chanyeol didn’t wait for an answer. He hooked his fingers into the lace of your panties and peeled them off, tossing them aside without a second thought. He shifted, settling between your knees, his gaze dropping to your exposed slit.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he muttered, his voice a low register that made your toes curl. “So pretty… and perfect for me. I’m gonna taste every bit of you. You want that, huh?”

“Chanyeol, oh my god—stop talking and just—” you choked out, your head tossing back against the pillow.

He leaned back in, his tongue swirling against your pussy with expert precision, finding your clit and flicking against it until you were shaking.

“Make me.” His hot breath made you shiver. He looked up again, his eyes locking onto yours as he used his fingers to spread you wider. “Tell me you’ve been thinking about this as much as I have.”

“I-I have,” you confessed, a broken sob of a laugh escaping you as he went back to work, his tongue heavy and insistent. “I want you so bad, Yeol. Please... don’t stop.”

“I’m gonna make sure your little pussy remembers all of me, doll,” he promised, his voice muffled against you.

You jammed your hand over your mouth, biting down on your own palm to stifle the shriek that wanted to tear out of you. Every stroke of his tongue was agonizingly perfect, filled with the wet, rhythmic sounds of his mouth and the frantic hitching of your breath.

Chanyeol looked up for a split second, his chin glistening, his eyes dark with a mix of pride and pure, unadulterated hunger. “Don’t hide it,” he growled against your inner thigh. “Lemme hear you, doll.”

“Yeol... please,” you whimpered as you finally pulled your hand away from your mouth. “You’re—you’re gonna break me—”

Before you could even process it, he slid two long fingers inside you. The sudden fullness made your eyes roll back, and your hand flew from your mouth to his hair, your fingers locking into the dark strands as you instinctively arched your hips, grinding yourself against his face.

“Fuck—yes,” he gasped, his hot breath blooming over your folds. “You’re so… so fucking perfect.”

“Ah—god.” Your fingers tightened in his hair, tugging him closer as if you could pull him right through you. “God—Yeol, you’re so much…”

Chanyeol pulled his fingers out just to spit directly onto his palm, slicking the moisture back over your clit and spreading you wide. He delved back in, his tongue mimicking the steady, driving thrust of his fingers.

“Goddamn!” he moaned. “You taste so fucking good.”

Your thighs were trembling so violently you could barely keep your legs open, the tension coiling in your gut until it was a physical pain. “Yeol, wait—stop! I-I’m too close!” you choked out as the first waves of the climax began to crest.

“I know, babe.” He didn’t slow down; if anything, he pressed harder, his fingers curling deep inside you to find the exact spot that made your toes curl. “Just give it to me.”

His mouth and the steady, relentless pressure of his hand made you lose the battle with your voice. A loud, broken moan echoed off the walls as your climax hit you like a tidal wave.

“Fuck—Chanyeol!” Your muscles clenched desperately around his fingers as you came, spilling over his hand and his mouth in a hot, frantic rush.

Chanyeol didn’t pull away. He drank it in, groaning low in his throat as he kept up the pace, trailing his tongue through the mess he’d made, making sure you felt every single second of the aftershock. You lay there, chest heaving, eyes blown wide as you stared at the ceiling, your body still buzzing.

“Good girl,” he panted, finally pulling back just enough to look at you. He was smeared with you and his own sweat, looking every bit the victor. “But I’m not done with you, love.”

Even though your muscles felt like water, the hunger hadn’t faded. You were still trembling, your skin hypersensitive, but as you looked up at him, your gaze immediately dropped to his erection against the fabric of his grey sweatpants.

Chanyeol didn’t keep you waiting. With a low, rough exhale, he stripped them off, leaving him in only his black boxers. The fabric was already darkened with a visible patch of precum, a testament to how much he had been wanting you while he was down between your legs.

He took a slow step closer to the edge of the bed. You reached out, your fingers trembling as you hooked them into the waistband of his underwear and pulled. As you freed him, his big cock bounced against his stomach, thick, pulsing, veiny, and mouthwatering, the tip already weeping with a fresh bead of moisture.

“Babe, you’re so dazed. You can barely keep your eyes open, huh?”

“No—I... I can.” The words felt clumsy on your tongue. You reached out, your hand looking small against his thigh as you guided him toward your face. “Lemme—”

Chanyeol let out a sharp, jagged breath as you leaned forward. When your tongue first swiped over the swollen tip, catching the heat of his precum, he hissed through his teeth.

“Oh—fuck,” he growled, his hand gripping your hair—firm enough to let you know who was in control. “I was watching you come, thinking about how much I wanna bury my cock so deep in your throat you can’t make a sound.”

You let out a soft, dizzy whimper, your eyes fluttering as you gave him those small, agonizing kitten licks, swirling around the ridge until he was shaking as badly as you were.

“Greedy.” His thumb dragged across your bottom lip, pulling it down to reveal more of your mouth. “I bet you wanna feel me hitting the back of your throat, huh?”

“Please,” you breathed, your heart hammering so hard it was the only thing you could hear. “All of you. Just... please, Chanyeol.”

“I’d love that, angel.”

You took him into your mouth, your tongue swirling around the head as you tried to take as much of him as possible, gagging, but Chanyeol had other plans. He let out a sharp, strangled sound and pulled back, leaving your lips tingling and empty.

“No—Yeol…” you whined, your voice small and thick with a dizzying need. You reached out blindly, your fingers brushing against his thighs.

“Trust me,” he rasped, his chest heaving as he stared down at your flushed face. “I’m not stopping. I just have better plans for that tight little body of yours. Turn over. On your belly, doll.”

You obeyed with a clumsy, heavy-limbed desperation, rolling over until your face was buried in the pillow. You felt the bed dip as he climbed over you, his large, calloused hands finding your hips and hauling them up. He held you there, your ass arched toward him, leaving you completely exposed to his gaze.

“God,” he hissed. “You look so fucking delicious from behind.”

You felt his tip—hot, blunt, and weeping—begin to rub slowly against your folds, teasing. You lost it, a broken, high-pitched moan muffled by the sheets as you tried to push back against him.

“Yeol, please,” you gasped, your fingers digging into the mattress. “I can’t—just... fill me up.”

“As you wish, angel.” He gripped your waist so hard his fingers left white marks against your skin, and then, with a slow, agonizingly steady push, he slid his cock into you.

You felt every inch of him stretching you out, claiming the space he had worked for. You felt your eyes roll back into your head as he bottomed out, burying himself deep inside you until your bodies were flush.

Chanyeol let out a deep, guttural groan against the back of your neck, his breath scalding your skin. He leaned down, pressing a series of heavy, open-mouthed kisses along your spine before giving the soft skin of your waist a sharp, possessive nip, cupping one of your boobs, squeezing you.

“Fuck—you’re so tight,” he whispered harshly into your ear, his voice trembling with the effort of not losing control immediately. “You feel like you were made exactly for me.”

“You’re... you’re so big,” your voice trembling as he began to move with a slow, deep rhythm. “Shit—please, don’t stop!”

“I won’t,” he promised, his pace beginning to pick up, his hips snapping against yours with a loud, wet rhythm. “You’re mine tonight.”

The last shred of Chanyeol’s restraint snapped. He began to drive into you with everything he had, his hips snapping against yours with a raw, relentless force. The bed cracked under the weight of his movements, a frantic soundtrack to the chaos he was wreaking on your body.

You heard his moans mixing with your own high-pitched cries. Your body was a complete slave to the arousal, your mind having long since checked out to leave only sensation behind.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” His voice was a ragged edge in your ear. “You’re taking me so fucking deep.”

You tried to answer, to tell him how much you loved it, but you could barely form a coherent thought, let alone a sentence. All you could do was sob his name over and over again, your fingers clawing at the sheets as you clenched around his cock with every thrust.

“Y-Yeol... oh god,” you gasped, your head thrashing against the pillow.

You could feel the tension in Chanyeol’s muscles reaching a breaking point, his breath coming in hot, ragged pants against your ear. “You’re doing so good.” His voice was thick with a looming climax. “So perfect. Shit—babe, come for me one more time.”

Your second climax hit, your muscles squeezing him with a desperate, crushing intensity. Chanyeol let out a loud, triumphant groan that vibrated through your entire frame. He moved with a sudden, frantic speed, flipping you over onto your back. He pulled out, and you watched through blown-out eyes as he rained over you. His cum landed in hot, heavy bursts across your thighs, your belly, and your aching cunt.

You tried to speak, to say something, but there was only panting. Your lungs burned, your heart hammered, and your voice was gone. Chanyeol was no better; he collapsed between your breasts, his heavy head resting there as he took deep, shuddering breaths. He didn’t care that you two were sticky with sweat and fluids; he just wanted to be close to you.

“Oh god,” he wheezed, his voice barely a whisper as he tilted his head up to give you a series of messy, uncoordinated kisses on your skin. “Remind me... to send you photos... more often.”

You managed a weak, breathless laugh, your fingers feebly stroking the damp hair at the nape of his neck. “I might not complain next time. I’d sleep better.”

Chanyeol’s head snapped up from your chest, a slow, predatory grin spreading across his face as he immediately caught your drift.

“I could definitely help with that. And plenty of other things, too.”

You let out a tired, mid-breath laugh, but the sound died into a startled whine as he suddenly shifted. Without a word of warning, he hooked his strong arms under your knees and back, hoisting your jelly-like body off the mattress.

“C’mon, babe.”

“Yeol, no,” you groaned, your head lolling against his shoulder. “I’m tired.” You felt completely drained, your muscles trembling with a bone-deep exhaustion. “I can’t... I literally won’t survive another round. My legs don’t even work.”

Chanyeol let out a boisterous, mocking laugh. He started walking toward the bathroom, his steady stride making your head spin.

“Another round?” he repeated with mischief as he looked down at you. “Imma think about it. But… I was thinking about an actual shower, you little deviant. Y’know, with soap? And water?”

Your face flushed a fresh shade of heat, and you let out an indignant huff, weakly smacking his bare, muscular chest. “I hate you!”

“You don’t!” His mockery was back in full swing. “And don’t hit me like that... it hurts! Jesus… I’m gonna skip the gym tomorrow. You drained me.”

You tried to sulk, turning your face away, but he wasn’t having it. As he kicked the bathroom door open, he kept ducking his head, trying to catch your lips with his own. He teased the corners of your mouth with tiny, nipping kisses, laughing against your skin every time you tried to dodge him. Even as you grumbled and complained, you found yourself leaning into his warmth, knowing that neither of you wanted to be anywhere else.

˗ˏˋ junmyeon

he likes being in control, but he lives for the moments when you take the lead. position doesn't matter to him as long as you're comfortable, but he secretly craves the sight of you riding him, feeling you bounce closer, tighter, as you try to hold on. his hands roam everywhere, a desperate need to touch and taste your skin before he feels like he lost his mind. he showers you with praise, but lately, his obsession has a new name: cum inside you, filling you completely at the exact moment you climax. "hold on, baby. together," he groans against your neck, pushing one last time, making sure you feel every inch of his throbbing cock before he finally gives in.

junmyeon might seem tired, but his stamina is not a joke. another round? the answer is always yes. if you're exhausted, he'll eat you out, slowly, taking his time, licking and sucking your clit as he was completely thirsty, his mouth and fingers working in a perfect sync. "cum for me, princess. you taste so fucking good," junmyeon is definitely pussy drunk. if you're not tired, he'll flip you over, thrusting harder to bury himself deeper, begging you to wrap your arms and legs around him until you both collapse, a tangled mess of limbs and sweat. "god, i needed that," he murmurs before kissing you raw with relief before he stars kissing you messy. a third round? only if you want it. if he's finally worn out, he'll switch to his fingers, starting slow and deliberate, a man of his word, tending to your most sensitive core until you reach the edge and fall again, squirting between cries and moans.

afterward, he'll clean you. junmyeon pulls you into him on the tangled sheets, letting you rest on his chest. he kisses your temple, traces the line of your back, and runs his fingers through your hair, his voice low and sleepy as he whispers how incredible you are. he'll hold you until you both fall asleep, his grip around you still as tight as if he never wants to let you go.

˗ˏˋ minseok

he's the kind of man who wakes you with kisses, pulling you into him from behind, his body a hot wight against your back as he slams into you. he'll kiss your shoulders and the back of your neck, his arms wrapped around your waist as he thrusts slowly but with a firm, deliberate rhythm. minseok loves to leave little bites, loving the way you shiver in his arms, and how your ass bounces with every move. but don't misunderstand—he'll only let you cum once you've switched positions and he can see your face, a beautiful, moaning mess. "look at me, baby. you're so pretty when you're ruined by me," he'll murmur, his voice a low possessive rumble.

another round? it depends on the mood, but the answer is almost always yes. this time, it's even slower. minseok will take his time, kissing you deeply and even talking to you, like it's his own personal ted talk, telling you how much he's fallen for you. this is where you see his most vulnerable, authentic side—the quiet, introspective man who loves you more than words can say.

afterward, minseok is the king of aftercare. he'll hold you close, wrapping you in his arms while playfully kissing your face and neck. he'll tell you how much he loves you and how amazing you are, his touch tender and reassuring. he's completely, undeniably whipped for you.

˗ˏˋ yixing

in bed, as with everything he does, he is completely committed. his only mission is to give you every kind of pleasure there is. he'll eat you out first, preparing your body to take him as deep as possible. a second round is a given; you won't even need to ask. after yixing leaves you a trembling wreck, he'll turn you over for doggy style. but as he gets more into it, be ready for him to press your face into the mattress as he pulls your hips up. every thrust is deep and forceful, his hips colliding with you ass, his grip on your waist so strong it will leave bruises.

"you feel so good, doll," he'll whisper, his praise so close you can feel it even when your moans drown out his voice. "fuck, you're so fucking tight and... mine, just mine." yixing collapses forward, his weight pinning you down as he catches his breath, his warmth filling you, and your juices mixing with his. but he won't let you rest for long. he'll let you get on top, but he's not stopping—he'll take your sensible pussy again, slowly, loving the way your walls clench around him, loving how him make you a beautiful mess.

his aftercare is an entirely new mission. he'll take you to the bath, cleaning you gently, touching and kissing you with a tenderness so warm it's almost too much to resist. you can't help but melt, and there you are again, a moaning mess with his fingers inside your cunt.

˗ˏˋ baekhyun

he's a huge fan of taking you in every spot of the house; there's nowhere he hasn't had you. be careful not to tease him—baekhyun is an absolute freak, and you're doomed if you do. "so, you want to play like that, huh?" he'll say with a dangerous smirk, his eyes full of playful mischief. he doesn't have a favorite position; he loves them all, but he's truly addicted to eating you out first, sometimes more than once, just to bring you to the very brink. "come on, princess. just one more time," he'll murmur against your sensitive pussy, his breath hot against your skin.

if you're in the kitchen, he'll fuck you right there; no need to move to the bedroom. he'll fall to his knees, his lips on your cunt, licking and sucking your clit like a man possessed, a religious experience for baekhyun. when you break into a climax, he won't let you rest. he'll take you right away, slamming into you while you're sitting or lifting your legs to wrap them around his hips. in bed, he'll get on top and kiss you messily, never breaking eye contact as he thrusts deep and hard enough to leave you a complete moaning mess. he's completely in love with your whimpers and the sound of your voice screaming his name.

another round? yes, a thousand times yes. baekhyun won't rest until you are both more than exhausted, a tangled mess unable to get out of bed. aftercare is a must. he'll kiss your whole face, slowly, sloppily, and hold you close, his arms wrapped around you, never leaving your body. he'll fall asleep in your arms, whispering how much he loves you, making sure you hear every word.

˗ˏˋ jongdae

he's a gentleman, without a doubt. while he loves how you ride him, he is driven by a deep need to take care of you. jongdae is a ride or die for every request you make. you want it slow? he'll go slow, stretching out every moment. you want it deeper? he'll push in until he's buried completely inside you. rough? absolutely. he'll meet your every need. "how could you be so pretty?" he praises you constantly, his voice a low, rumbling hum against your skin—a true king of compliments.

a second round is not an option; it's a need. this time, jongdae will slow down and go deeper, taking his time. he'll kiss your neck, then your shoulders, your jaw, and finally your lips, his touch tender and possessive all at once. his hands work their magic on your most sensitive spots, his fingers tracing your clit until you're a mess of moans and gasps. he loves the way your body responds to his touch.

"let me do it one more time, princess." a third round is an extension of his aftercare—it's just jongdae being needy. he'll pull you against him, whispering praise into your hair and kissing your skin, leaving soft, sleepy bites all over until he finally gives in and cum inside you again. then, he'll let you rest on top of him, in his arms, his body still joined with yours, both of you a tangled mess of limbs and tired pleasure. he'll fall asleep with you right there, the most content man in the world.

˗ˏˋ chanyeol

the way he fucks you depends on his mood, but more often than not, he's just the needy boyfriend. chanyeol will begin by whining for your attention, his hands reaching for you as he starts unbuttoning your blouse. he kisses you, his lips leaving a trail everywhere as he gets down on his knees and ends up at your core. he gives you everything, tasting, licking, and sucking as if he's praying, lost in the worship of you. then, he'll take you to bed. the position is irrelevant; he'll climb on top of you and slam into you. the pace is slow at first, then faster until you feel every incredible inch of him. "you're just mine," he'll whisper, his voice raw. he's possessive, but a true lover and a romantic who praises you endlessly.

a second round is a guarantee. after chanyeol even cum, he'll start thrusting you again; he finds no need for rest. he loves to take you while you're raw, a sensitive and moaning mess in his arms. you'll hear him groan a lot, especially when he cum inside you. it's a truly divine experience for him, feeling your body arch and your walls clench. "god, you feel so fucking good," he'll gasp.

a third round will happen in the shower, or on the bed with sleepy kisses and sloppy moves, just the sound of your bodies colliding and agitated breaths. he'll murmur nonsense, his lips at your neck, your shoulders, and everywhere else. chanyeol won't stop until he collapses, completely exhausted and drunk on you, there's no need to pull out. yet even then, he's incapable of not giving you aftercare, wrapping his arms around you, his face buried in your neck or hair, a tangled mess of bodies.

˗ˏˋ kyungsoo

he might seem quiet, but he’s the one who always starts the fire. he'll tease you, flirting with a casual ease that makes it feel like a normal conversation. when you finally break and give in, kyungsoo feels like a winner. he truly loves it when you're the needy one, feeling your desperation to beg for him. he'll take you to bed immediately, unable to wait a second longer. his lips capture yours in a messy, desperate kiss. his hands rip off your clothes—and his—and his lips are everywhere, especially on your boobs, where he bites, touches, licks, and marks. then kyungsoo will move to your pussy, taking extra care to make you lose your mind and become a complete moaning mess. he's too quiet to praise you with words, but you'll hear his hard sighs, humming, and groaning against your skin.

he likes to have you on top, but he is anything but passive. kyungsoo will thrust deeper and with focused energy. his hands will be secured on your waist, his lips on your breast or neck, and now he feels like he's the one begging for you. another round? the answer is always yes. side-fucking is his second favorite position. with your back to his torso, he'll place one of his hands on your belly, the other on a boob, and feel your ass bouncing on his hips, his lips on the back of your neck. he'll finish inside you, groaning into your back, his grip tight.

aftercare is a must for kyungsoo. he doesn't mind if you want to stay in the same position or move to face him. he'll ask about your day, listening intently before telling you about his. you'll both talk nonsense until you fall asleep, tangled in the sheets.

˗ˏˋ jongin

there's no chance he'll ever say no to sex. even if he's exhausted, jongin will let you sit on his face, giving you the princess treatment with his mouth and fingers until you've had all the orgasms you need. you won't be able to resist taking his length into your mouth. "shit, baby, don't stop" jongin will groan against your pussy, sucking and slurping your clit like a man out of his mind, taking you to the very brink until your release touches his mouth. he'll clean you with his tongue, then let you stroke him until he comes in a messy, gasping rush. "you're gonna kill me."

but be ready if he's not tired. jongin will fuck you until you're both a tangled mess of exhausted limbs, with no care for position or how many rounds. he'll take you on the bed, against the wall, on the couch—it doesn't matter where, as long as it's you. the sheets will be completely soaked with your squirts and both of your cums. "fuck, we made a mess." you'll be a huge, happy mess, laughing at the chaos you both created, but still wrapped up in the sheets, with each other.

aftercare is a must. jongin will give you sloppy kisses and so much care, sharing sleepy conversations and laughs with you. he'll talk about his day, and you'll talk about yours, meaningless things too, and you'll both drift off to sleep. jongin will fall asleep first, pouting in the middle of your playful argument over who loves the other more.

˗ˏˋ sehun

he's the ultimate flirt and tease. sehun's the one who starts every kind of touch, from a casual slap on your ass in the kitchen that sends shivers down your spine to the unexpected way he'll rub his hard cock against your butt when you're in bed. he might even surprise you with a quick, hard bite on your neck or steal your lips in the middle of a mundane conversation. everything he does is designed to remind you that you are his. his favorite position? sehun's a wild man, always wanting to try new things and take you in new places. but he eventually returns to his favorite: having you bounce on him. his hands cup your ass, gripping and lifting, and his hips thrust you into the right spot, deep enough to make you a trembling, moaning mess. "you're mine, remember that," he'll say, his voice a low growl, reminding you of his claim over you. sehun loves biting your breasts and neck, and he'll slap your ass and grip your waist so tight it leaves bruises—his marks of love.

a second round? yes. a third? only if you aren't both completely exhausted. but if sehun is tired and still wants more, he'll take you back to bed and eat you out or in a slow, sloppy way, using his long fingers for more pleasure. the wet sounds will make you shiver, and sehun knows your body well enough to take you to the very edge, breaking you until you reach a climax so powerful you squirt and cry his name.

aftercare is a must. sehun's a possessive freak in bed, but the moment it's over, he's a needy man who craves your touch. he's incapable of sleeping without you, so he'll pull you into his arms, burying his face in your neck as you stroke his hair. your legs will be tangled together, a messy aftermath of pleasure, but he's content and peaceful in your arms.

The watch on his wrist read almost 2 a.m. Normally, Chanyeol wouldn’t mind standing guard through the night while the others slept, patrolling the quiet perimeter of the barracks in a stiff uniform and carrying a weapon he’d only ever handled in training drills.

But tonight, the routine felt like a cage. Not even the biting, bitter cold of the night air could lower Chanyeol’s body temperature; a frantic, restless heat burned beneath his skin, fueled entirely by a growing sense of yearning.

It had been almost two weeks since he last heard your voice, and the silence was finally driving him crazy. Every second without you felt like a physical weight crushing his chest, a slow-burning madness that made it impossible to breathe. 

Chanyeol glanced down at the cell phone in his pocket. The urge to leave his post was becoming a physical ache. He knew the risks, but the desperation outweighed the consequences. He needed to hear your voice. He needed it like air. The only way to get even a sliver of a connection was to sacrifice a few dangerous minutes to climb to the highest, most exposed point on the grounds—a steep, frozen ridge where he could finally trap a few fleeting bars of signal against the sky.

Spurred by a sudden wave of impatience, Chanyeol started to move again, his boots making no sound against the floor. The rest of his teammates were fast asleep, their heavy, even breathing filling the quiet barracks. As he crept past the mess hall, he caught a glimpse of his superior through the kitchen doorway. Chanyeol froze, shrinking back into the shadows to stay silent, but a quick glance inside revealed the older officer slumped over, fast asleep in his seat.

Then, like a divine signal cutting through the dark, his phone began to buzz against his thigh. His heart leaped into his throat. He finally had connection.

Without wasting a single second, Chanyeol slipped rapidly back to his post in the shadows, praying to the universe that the fragile bars of service wouldn’t vanish. His eyes catched your unread messages at full speed. One of them had arrived only moments ago. Desperate, he hit the call button and pressed the phone to his ear, his mind repeating a frantic prayer that you were still awake.

One ring. Two. Three.

The line connected, and the soft, sleepy sound of your voice from the other side made his skin crawl with an intense, electric shiver.

“Baby…” The word came out raspy and thick with a sudden rush of raw emotion. Trembling, his fingers slid through his hair, knocking his military cap completely off his head. It hit the ground, but he couldn’t care less.

“Yeol?” There was a brief silence on the line, instantly filled by a shaky, frustrated sigh that escaped from deep within his chest. “Oh my god... Chanyeol?”

“I’m here, love,” he choked out, his voice cracking under the weight of it all. “Just... let me hear your voice. Fuck... I miss you so much. I-I’m going crazy.”

The air suddenly thick and suffocating with everything they had been forced to suppress for two weeks. Hearing your voice, so soft and still heavy with sleep, completely stripped away whatever discipline Chanyeol had left. The distance wasn’t just frustrating anymore; it was a physical agony, a starvation that clawed at his chest.

He pressed the phone so hard against his ear it hurt, his eyes closed tight as he leaned his forehead against his cold hand. Every breath he took was ragged, a desperate attempt to ground himself when all he wanted to do was unravel.

“I can’t do this anymore,” he whispered, the words ragged, practically bleeding with a raw, demanding craving. “Hearing you like this, knowing how far away you are... it’s fucking killing me. I wanna touch you so bad it hurts, baby. I… I need to make love to you… to be inside of you right now.”

On the other end of the line, a sharp, caught breath gasped through the speaker, followed by a low shift of sheets that made Chanyeol’s stomach completely bottom out. The sweet, sleepy tone of your voice vanished, replaced by a sudden, heated urgency that matched his own.

“Yeol…” you murmured, your voice dropping an octave, instantly responding to the sudden shift in his tone. “You have no idea what it’s like here. My bed feels so empty without you. I was just dreaming about your hands on me… your lips, your tongue.”

A dark, desperate sound escaped the back of his throat—halfway between a groan and a sob. The sheer vulnerability of his longing twisted into something much more primal, something intoxicatingly filthy born from pure deprivation. Chanyeol didn’t care about the risk anymore. He just needed to consume you through the static.

“My beautiful girl,” he growled softly, his voice dropping into a dangerous, gravelly register that vibrated through the receiver. His free hand gripped his hip, his knuckles turning white. “God… just tell me what you dreamt. Was it good? Did I treat you right?”

“So good—I was feeling your mouth all over my body,” you gasped out, the sound of your quickening breath hitting the microphone, sending a jolt of pure fire straight down his spine. “You were ruining me, Yeol. And—shit… I’m already wet just thinking about it…”

Hearing the sudden, slick shift of sheets on your end—and the unmistakable, heavy hitch in your breathing—sent a violent jolt straight to Chanyeol’s groin. His cock hardened instantly, straining painfully against the thick, unforgiving fabric of his military uniform.

“Fuck, you’re doing it already, hmm?” Chanyeol growled, his voice dropping into a filthy, gravelly rasp that vibrated with pure hunger. “I can hear it in your voice, baby. Where are your fingers?”

“Inside,” you gasped out, a soft, breathless whimper escaping your lips that nearly made his knees buckle. “But it’s not enough. I need your tongue. I need your fucking fingers stretching me open. I-I need your cock, Yeolie.”

A dark, predatory groan cut through his throat. Panic and desire collided in his chest; Chanyeol was completely exposed out here. Eyes dark and wild, he looked around quickly, his heart hammering against his ribs as he slunk deeper into a pitch-black corner outside the cabin, shielded by the shadows.

Chanyeol didn’t even have the time or the freedom to take his uniform off; the sheer desperation was too fast, too consuming. With trembling, impatient fingers, he just unbuttoned his pants and slid his hand inside his boxers. The cold of his own skin made him let out a sharp, ragged sigh. His knuckles dragged against the rigid, leaking length of his dick, and the sheer relief of it made his head roll back against the wall.

“God, you’re a bad girl, opening up for me while I’m stuck here,” he whispered into the receiver, his tone dripping with the wicked, dominant filth he usually reserved for the privacy of your bedroom. Chanyeol started to jerk himself off under his clothes, his grip tight and unyielding, his fist moving in a frantic, packed rhythm that threatened to break his composure entirely. “If I was there, I’d make you choke on my cock. I’d stretch you out until you were crying and begging me to stop, and then… I’d just push deeper.”

You let out a loud, undone whine on the other end, the sound of skin friction hitting the microphone. “Yes—please. Keep going. I’m rubbing my clit so hard thinking about it... I’m so close, Yeolie, please…”

“That’s it, baby. Ride your fingers for me,” he commanded, his breath hitching as his own pace quickened, his thumb smearing the pre-cum over his head. The fear of getting caught only made the friction hotter, the adrenaline driving him insane. “Fuck—baby, I’m so hard right now. Hear how fucking ruined I am? I’m imagining your tight little mouth wrapped around my dick—shit—taking it all.”

“God—Chanyeol!”

The sound of your wet, undone moans coming through the speaker completely wrecked him. Chanyeol’s legs felt weak, his knees threatening to give out beneath the sheer weight of a pleasure that felt more like torture. He was struggling to breathe, his chest heaving against the tight fabric of his military jacket as he leaned heavily against the freezing exterior wall of the barracks. 

He was trembling violently from the freezing night air, but his hand didn’t stop, rubbing himself hard and fast through his pants in a brutal, friction-heavy rhythm that was rapidly bringing him to the point of no return.

“Fuck, baby... those sounds,” he whimpered into the phone, his voice a broken, filthy whisper that shook with pure desperation as he kept a frantic eye on the dark grounds around him. “You’re killing me. You’re fucking ruining me out here. I can’t handle it... I’m so close.”

“Give it to me,” you cried out softly, a breathless, wet sob of completion building in your throat. “I need to hear you come. Do it for me, Yeol. Cum for me.”

“God—I’m coming right in my pants for you, baby,” he choked out, his hips giving a helpless, involuntary twitch against his own hand as he rubbed himself at a punishing speed through the fabric. He was completely blind to the danger now, entirely consumed by the filthy heat of your voice. “Listen to me, baby. Will your sweet mouth take every single drop—fuck… I’m gonna cover your pretty face with my cum.”

“Yes—I want it all,” you gasped, the sound of your frantic breathing hitching as your own climax finally hit, a soft, broken wail escaping your lips.

Hearing you unravel was the final blow. Chanyeol let out a muffled, strangled groan, his teeth biting down hard on his own lip to keep from making a sound into the open night air. His entire body went rigid, his knuckles turning stark white as his hand delivered a few final, crushing strokes against his pants. A heavy, violent wave of release took over, his cum spilling thick and hot, ruining the inside of his uniform as he collapsed back against the cold wall, utterly spent and shivering in the dark.

“Shit…”

The static on the line was filled only with the sound of their synchronized, trembling breaths. Chanyeol’s legs finally gave out completely, and he slid down the freezing exterior wall until he was sitting flat on the cold ground, his head resting back against the concrete.

“You did it too, didn’t you?” he breathed into the phone, a soft, breathless chuckle escaping his throat.

On the other end, your faint, matching laugh was just as exhausted, just as undone.

“As you wanted, Yeolie.”

Chanyeol looked down at himself in the dim moonlight, a sudden wave of reality crashing over him. He was covered in a cold sweat despite the freezing night air, his chest still heaving as he tried to compose his erratic breathing. Looking down at his lap, he stared at the giant, unmistakable wet circle darkening the thick fabric of his uniform trousers. With trembling, clumsy fingers, he awkwardly pulled at the heavy material, trying to zip and button his pants properly, the reality of his situation setting back in with every clumsy movement.

The heat of the moment was fading fast, replaced by the sudden, aching weight of the distance between them. Sitting alone in the dark, ruined and shivering in his uniform, the contrast of the empty military grounds hit him like a physical blow.

“God, you were the one who ruined me,” he whispered, his voice dropping into a quiet, incredibly vulnerable register. The dirty talk was entirely gone, replaced by a raw, aching honesty. He pulled his knees up to his chest, pressing the phone tighter against his ear as if he could force you closer. “I miss you so much, baby. It’s... frustrating. I don’t know how I’m supposed to get up and finish this shift without you here.”

“Hey… it’s okay,” you whispered softly, your voice a gentle contrast to the biting wind on his end of the line. “We only have a few more days to get through, Yeol. Just a few more days, and then you’re coming home. I’m counting down every single hour.”

Chanyeol let out a shaky, fragile breath, the promise of seeing you acting like a lifeline. But as the heavy silence stretched between you, he caught the faint, heavy drag in your breathing. The fog of lust was completely gone now, leaving behind a sharp stab of protectiveness.

“You sound so exhausted, baby,” he murmured, his brow furrowing with sudden guilt. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t even ask about your day before I... I completely dragged you into this.”

A soft, tired laugh rumbled on your end of the line, a sound that instantly warmed his chest. “Don’t be silly. I’m just tired because of work, that’s all. It was a long day, but hearing you was exactly what I needed.”

“Are you sure?” he asked gently, though the words tasted like ash in his mouth. “Go to rest, baby.”

But neither of you hung up. The line stayed wide open, filled only with the soft static of the connection and the rhythm of your breathing. It was like you were both just waiting for the fragile signal to cut out on its own, a silent agreement to let the universe take blame for ending the call. Deep down, you were both desperately praying for those signal bars to hold on for just a little bit longer.

“I love you so much,” you whispered suddenly, the words laced with an aching tenderness. “I’ll wait for you.”

“I know, baby. I love you more. I promise I’ll count every second—”

“Sargent Park!”

The sharp, echoing shout tore through the quiet night air, causing Chanyeol’s heart to violently leap into his throat. He was completely startled. On the other end, you heard the sudden intrusion and instantly understood the danger.

“Shit. I have to go. I love you,” he hissed into the receiver at lightning speed. 

“I love you too,” you whispered back just as fast.

The line clicked dead. Chanyeol shoved his phone into his pocket with trembling hands and scrambled to his feet. He had to use the wall for leverage, his legs still weak, his movements clumsy as he tried to adjust his uniform jacket to hide the prominent wet circle staining his pants.

He had barely managed to stand up straight when his superior appeared around the corner, stepping directly into the dim light in front of him. The older officer was holding Chanyeol’s discarded military hat in one hand, looking at him with a deep frown. His gaze swept over Chanyeol, taking in his red cheeks, the heavy sweat glistening on his forehead, and the way his chest was still heaving for air.

“Sargent Park… you look terrible,” his superior said, his voice carrying a mix of authority and genuine worry. “Go to bed. You should rest.”

Chanyeol swallowed hard, forcing his posture into a stiff, trembling salute, praying the darkness hid the front of his pants.

“Yes, sir!”

You were still drained from last night and whatever reckless truce that happened.

The mattress shifted as Junmyeon moved, his heavy arm finally lifting from your waist. He didn’t bother being gentle as he untucked the covers, leaving your naked body exposed to the morning chill. You let out a frustrated whine at his sheer lack of manners.

“You’re remarkably annoying this morning,” you muttered into your pillow, your voice muffled, as you tried to tuck yourself into the sheets. “It’s dark outside, c’mon!”

Junmyeon let out a low, mocking laugh. Of course, he did it on purpose. “You’re welcome,” he replied, his voice grating on your nerves. You heard the metallic slide of a zipper as he stepped into his jeans. “Sunrises are inspiring, y’know?”

“Get out!” Tired of him and his effortless energy, you bolted upright, grabbed the decorative pillow beside you, and hurled it with every bit of strength you had left. Junmyeon leaned to the left, letting it thud harmlessly against the doorframe.

“Better luck next time,” he threw back, his laugh raspy and entirely too triumphant. “See you later, loser!” He was already halfway out the door.

Frustrated, you tried to make yourself sleep again, but when you were about to fall asleep, the distinct shut of the main door echoed through your quiet apartment. He was finally gone, heading back to his own place, which happened to be right next door.

The rivalry between you and Junmyeon was built in your first week; the air in the office seemed to sharpen whenever you both occupied the same room. You didn’t just disagree on everything; you two were capable of sabotaging each other if that meant the end of the other’s ego.

If you hit your sales goals, he tripled his. If he delivered a flawless presentation, you spent the next three hours perfecting a rebuttal that made his data look like a rough draft. You were both relentless, stubborn, fueled by a mutual, unspoken agreement that there was only room for one of you at the top. The “Seller of the Month” wasn’t just a prize anymore; it was the ultimate proof of superiority, and you’d rather work yourself to the bone than let him win.

The office had grown used to that tension between you. They joked about your rivalry, and saw the way you rolled your eyes when he spoke, and the way his jaw tightened whenever you took the lead in a meeting. They called it a personality clash, seeing it as an actual show.

Then came that team dinner.

The atmosphere was loud and celebratory, but you and Junmyeon were locked in your own private war. Both drunk, at the end of the table, arguing over a lead he’d clearly stolen from you.

The tension followed you on the shared taxi all the way home, finally boiling over as the elevator doors slid shut. You were barking at him, your face inches from him, fueled by months of suppressed adrenaline, ready to tear him apart—your finger poking into the fabric of his chest.

Junmyeon was tense. He didn’t argue back, at least, not with words. He moved closer, one hand slamming into the metal wall, the other one sliding down to grip your waist with bruising force. His mouth crashed onto yours to silence you. It was a collision. Stunned, you tasted his rage, but didn’t stop him. You pulled him into your space with a violence that surprised you both, your nails clawing through his shirt, searching for skin to punish.

By the time the doors opened to his—and your—floor, the war transitioned into something deeper. You two stumbled into his apartment, mouths still locked in a battle for dominance, trying to rip each other's clothes off.

The drinks had blinded you, blurring the hatred into a raw heat. Junmyeon backed you onto the bed, his movements jagged and demanding. He didn’t have to ask; your eyes said everything. You watched him drop between your legs, his eyes dark with hunger as he stripped away the last of your defenses.

When his mouth finally made contact with your soft skin, it was electric. He clearly knew what he was doing, tracing the sensitive lines of your inner thighs before focusing entirely on your pussy with a relentless hunger. Junmyeon was eating you out like he had been starving for months, his fingers hooked into your hips to hold you still while he drank you in.

“Shit—Junmyeon!”

Your fingers pulled his hair enough to make him moan against your folds. The sounds of wetness and his ragged, hot breath were so erotic that your legs were already shaking. He pushed harder, swirling his tongue in rhythmic circles until you were sobbing his name again, and again.

“Fuck…” he groaned. “You taste so fucking good.”

Junmyeon was winning. He knew it. You knew it, too. And yes, he wanted to be the only thing you could feel, the only thing you remembered as long as your inner thighs clamped his face, and your inner walls clenched at anything, already trembling against his mouth, knowing he was making you have the best orgasm in a long time.

But you weren’t finished. As soon as he tasted the last drop and hovered over you, your mouth crashed against his with possessive strength. When he finally sank into you, the sensation was overwhelming. You wrapped your legs around his waist, trying to force him to stop being gentle. Of course, he got your silent beg and fucked you like your body had been made specifically for him. Each trust was a claim, each movement a silent way to call you his.

You traded bites on the shoulders and neck. You scratched down his back, your fingers tangled in his hair as you arched up to meet him, like you were competing to see who would break first. Every time he hit that perfect, sweet spot, he’d let out a growl against the crook of your neck, and you’d respond by pulling him deeper, refusing to let him have the final word.

When the end finally came, it was a mutual destruction. Junmyeon collapsed over you, his skin slick with sweat and his breathing ragged, his weight pinning you to the mattress. You weren’t any better, your fingers trembling, debating whether to hold him or not. But... both of you refused to really move.

“T-this was a mistake, Kim,” you breathed, breaking the ice, your voice a shaky whisper.

Junmyeon shifted, his jaw tightening as he looked down at you, his eyes still dark and unhinged. “The worst one of my life.”

However, his hand was already sliding back down to your hip, his thumb tracing the jagged mark he’d left there. Of course, you did fuck again that night, and the next days after... and the next weeks, like hooking up and hating each other were part of a balance.

You walked into the office with your jaw set and your stomach growling, the lack of breakfast making your temper a live wire. The moment you rounded the corner, you saw him.

Junmyeon was leaning against the edge of your desk, looking infuriatingly composed in a charcoal three-piece suit that hugged his shoulders perfectly. The silver-rimmed glasses perched on his nose were a direct insult to your exhaustion—he looked stupidly, effortlessly attractive for 9 AM, especially for a man who had spent the night losing his mind in your sheets.

“You’re a minute late,” he noted, checking his watch with a slow, deliberate movement. A small, mocking smirk played on his lips. “Having trouble getting out of bed this morning?”

“Move,” you snapped, dropping your purse onto your chair with a heavy thug, “if you don’t wanna die today.”

Junmyeon let out a soft, raspy laugh. “Rude.”

“Get off my desk,” you shot back, finally meeting his eyes. “Go hover over somewhere else and let me work.”

“Easy, easy. I was just making sure you hadn’t fainted from exhaustion,” he whispered, leaning in just enough for you to catch his scent. “You seemed quite drained.”

“In your dreams,” you hissed, your eyes flashing. “Now get out before I report you for being a pain in the ass.”

Junmyeon straightened up, adjusting his cuffs with a smug, triumphant look. “See you at the briefing. Try to keep up.”

He could be incredibly annoying for no reason, and the urge to punch his perfect features was clear now, but he escaped before you could do anything.

And just like that, the rest of the morning was a blur of spreadsheets and mounting irritation.

“Hey, Junmyeon,” Chanyeol said, pointing toward his own neck. “You okay? You’ve got a couple of marks right there.”

You froze. Your hand was hovering over the print button, almost crumpling the documents in your other hand, your heart hammering against your ribs.

Junmyeon didn’t even flinch. He reached up, casually adjusting his tie, his expression the picture of bored indifference. “Oh, those? Just a mosquito. A very aggressive one. I think it got into my apartment last night and wouldn’t let me sleep.”

“A mosquito?” Chanyeol asked, skeptical. “That looks more like—”

“Yeah,” Junmyeon interrupted, his voice flat and professional, though you caught the way his eyes darted toward you for a fraction of a second. “Anyway, about those quarterly projections…”

You had to bite the inside of your cheek. The mental image of Junmyeon growling into your ear while you sank your teeth into his neck was a vivid memory from last night. You kept your back to them, staring intently at the printer tray, trying to erase it from your mind.

Later that day, the only thing more hollow than your stomach was your patience. You marched into the break room, desperate for a caffeine fix to dampen the hunger pangs, only to find the source of your misery already there.

Junmyeon was standing by the counter, leaning over his mug with an air of smug tranquility. Just as he reached out to lift the steaming cup to his lips, you swiped it from under his hand with a fluid, practiced motion.

“Hey!” he protested, his hand clutching at empty air as he turned a sharp glare toward you. “That’s mine. Get your own.”

“Consider it a tax,” you snapped, taking a long, defiant sip while looking him dead in the eye. “It’s entirely your fault I haven’t eaten a single thing today.”

Junmyeon let out a low, raspy chuckle, leaning back against the counter and crossing his arms. The movement made the charcoal fabric of his suit jacket pull tight across his chest. “Are you really this worked up over a yogurt? It was a strawberry. You don’t even like strawberries that much.”

“It was my strawberry yogurt, you thief,” you hissed. “And you knew exactly what you were doing when you cleared it out of my fridge.”

“I was hungry,” he said simply, a playful glint in his eyes that made you want to kick him. “Besides, you’re much more interesting when you’re hangry.”

You reached past him, your hand diving into his open lunch bag on the counter. Before he could react, you snatched the last thick slice of crusty bread he’d tucked away. “Then I’m taking this.”

“Hey! That’s mine!”

You stood your ground, the stolen bread in one hand and his coffee in the other, feeling the familiar adrenaline that only he could provoke.

“That’s mine now,” you muttered, already backing toward the door.

“C’mere!” he retorted, his voice dropping into that dangerous, low register. “I don’t wanna repeat it again.”

You stopped at the threshold, a slow, predatory smile spreading across your face. You let your gaze drift pointedly to his neck, where the collar of his expensive shirt was still struggling to do its job.

“Junmyeon,” your voice dripping with sweet, faux-concern. “Maybe you should spend your lunch break hiding those ‘mosquito bites’. That’s a lack of professionalism, y’know?”

His smug expression didn’t just fade—it fractured to the point you thought his glasses had broken. For a split second, the composed version of him vanished.

Junmyeon opened his mouth to fire back—likely to remind you exactly who had left those marks—but the words died in his throat. He watched you stand there, defiantly chewing on his sourdough and holding his coffee like a trophy, and for once, he had no arguments.

You saw his jaw work, his eyes dark with a mixture of sheer annoyance and a kind of heat. Junmyeon looked genuinely surprised that you’d had the nerve to weaponize his own lie against him.

“Just… get out,” he finally muttered. He only had the heavy, frustrated weight of a man who knew he’d just been played at his own game.

“My pleasure,” you hummed, a purr of pure satisfaction.

You sauntered out of the break room without looking back, but you could practically feel his gaze burning holes into the back of your neck. He wouldn’t follow you, and he certainly wouldn’t admit to anyone that you were the reason for his sudden silence. Junmyeon was too proud to let the office know that his rival had just walked off with his breakfast, his caffeine, and his dignity all in one go.

As you rounded the corner back to your desk, the coffee tasted better than anything you’d ever bought yourself. You knew this victory was temporary—he’d likely spend the rest of the afternoon plotting a way to make you pay for the sourdough—but for now, the silence coming from the break room was the sweetest sound in the building.

“It was a record-breaking month,” the manager’s voice boomed in the sudden silence. “But as always, one person pushed just a little bit harder.”

Friday afternoon arrived. The stress was a living thing, fueled by the fact that the “Seller of the Month” announcement was a minute aside. Neither of you mentioned what happened again, but the way he watched you from across the meeting room told you he hadn’t forgotten the humiliation in the break room.

At the center of the room, your manager held the cream-colored envelope—the voucher for the weekend getaway.

You stood on the left, your arms crossed tightly over your chest, your expression a mask of cold, professional indifference. Across the carpet, Junmyeon stood like a statue. He looked impeccable in a navy suit, his glasses catching the overhead light, but you noticed the way his fingers twitched against his thigh.

You felt Junmyeon’s gaze cut toward you. It was a silent prepare to lose. You tilted your chin up, your eyes promising him a slow, public demise.

“By a margin of only two sales.” The silence was deafening. “Kim Junmyeon is the new winner."

The room erupted into applause. Junmyeon didn’t jump for joy; he smiled with confidence, stepping forward, and took the envelope. He shook the manager’s hand, thanked the team, and then turned his head just enough to catch your eye.

The look he gave you was the look of a man who had not only won the war but was now deciding exactly how to punish his prisoner.

“Congratulations, Junmyeon,” you said, your voice dripping with a fake, honeyed warmth that you knew he absolutely loathed. You stepped forward, extending a hand. “Nobody deserves a break from all that strenuous effort quite like you do.”

Junmyeon took your hand, squeezing. He leaned in as if to give you a professional, friendly pat on the shoulder, but his hand landed on the back of your neck, his thumb pressing firmly into the sensitive skin just below your ear.

“Better luck next time, sweetheart,” he murmured, loud enough for only you to hear. “Maybe it’ll inspire you to actually hit your targets for once.”

“Aw, so arrogant.” Your smile never wavered as you leaned into his space, your lips almost brushing his cheek in what looked like a congratulatory gesture. “Don’t worry. I’ll be too busy taking over the accounts you’re neglecting.”

You moved first. Your coworkers swarmed in, effectively diffusing the lethal air between you and Junmyeon with their oblivious enthusiasm.

“Nice work, Junmyeon! That coast trip is gonna be worth it!” Chanyeol shouted, slapping him on the back with enough force to make him stumble a half-step forward.

Junmyeon’s hand dropped from the back of your neck instantly. “Thanks, man. It was a tight race,” he said, his voice smoothing out into that polished, professional baritone that always made you want to roll your eyes.

“And hey,” Minho said, turning to you with a sympathetic wince. “You’ll get him next month. You were so close. Seriously, just one more lead and he’d be the one sitting here looking miserable.”

“I’m not miserable,” you lied, forcing a sharp, practiced smile that didn’t reach your eyes. “I’m just already planning his downfall. Someone has to keep his ego from floating away.”

“Well said!” Hana got close to you, holding your arm with a cheerful vibe. “Crash him!”

“Yup, you will need luck for next month, Kim.” Minji appeared with Sora, who was laughing.

Junmyeon let out a short, dry chuckle, tucking the voucher into his breast pocket with a flourish that was meant only for you. “Careful. Overconfidence is usually what leads to second place. But I appreciate the congratulations, guys.”

The group laughed, the tension you had been building in the dark corners of the conversation dissipating into mundane office chatter. Slowly, the crowd began to thin, people drifting back to their cubicles to finish their final Friday tasks.

Junmyeon didn’t give you a second glance. He simply turned his back on you, curving his lips in a smug smile, leaning over his desk to check an email. He knew he had pissed you off successfully.

You sat back down at your desk, not just feeling defeated, but with the urge to kill him slowly. You could see the back of his head, the way his dark hair was perfectly styled, and the way his shoulders looked broad and immovable in that suit, acting as if the win was purely professional. You hated that.

You spent the next hour typing with a ferocity that threatened your keyboard, your jaw clenched so tight it ached. Every time you heard the crinkle of the envelope from his side of the desk, your blood spiked.

By 5:00 PM, the office was a ghost town. You were still there, staring at a spreadsheet you had already finished, waiting for something. You heard the rustle of fabric, the click of a briefcase, and then his footsteps.

Junmyeon walked past your desk without stopping.

“Bye, runner-up,” he said, his voice cool and detached as he headed for the elevators.

The anger was a hot, jagged stone in your chest as you watched the elevator numbers count down. You knew how he worked; Junmyeon didn’t just play the game, he manipulated the board. He hadn’t won because he was better; he’d won because he was devious.

You waited exactly five minutes—long enough to look like you were heading home, but short enough to catch him.

The basement parking lot was a concrete tomb, smelling of damp air. You spotted his car immediately. As you approached, the driver’s side window slid down.

“Coming?” His voice was a low, gravelly vibration that skipped down your spine. He looked infuriatingly smug behind the wheel.

Your purse hung lazily off your shoulder as you walked toward the passenger door. You didn’t smile. You gave him the look he knew best—the one that promised you weren’t there to congratulate him, but to ruin his victory. You yanked the door open and dropped into the leather seat, the scent of his cologne immediately filling your lungs.

“You’re late.” His voice dropped into that dark, flirtatious register that only came out when the office cameras were off.

“Shut up,” you snapped. You reached across the center console, your fingers hooking into the silk of his tie and yanking him toward you with enough force to make his neck snap forward.

You brought your face inches from his, your lips ghosting over his jaw. “You cheated. We both know it.”

Junmyeon let out a sharp, ragged breath, his hands flying to your waist to haul you closer. A slow, dark smirk spread across his face as he looked at your mouth. “Prove it,” he challenged, his eyes flashing with that familiar, unhinged hunger. “Planning on punishing me for it?”

Junmyeon was enjoying it—the aggression, the way you treated him like a criminal. You slid your hand down his chest, feeling the muscle jump and tighten beneath the expensive fabric of his suit. His breath hitched, turning rough and shallow as he leaned into your touch, his own hands traveling up your back to pull you flush against him.

When your lips finally crashed into his, it was a collision of teeth and tongue, fueled by the bitter adrenaline of the afternoon. It was angry and desperate. He groaned into your mouth, his grip tightening as he prepared to take exactly what he wanted.

But the moment he tried to deepen the kiss, to claim the satisfaction of a second win for the day, you pulled back.

You broke the contact abruptly, leaving him breathless and leaning into empty air. You smoothed your hair back with a clinical, cold precision and leaned back into your seat, a sharp, triumphant glint in your eyes.

“Not tonight,” you whispered, your voice a lethal purr as you reached for the door handle.

Junmyeon was speechless, leaning toward you, his pupils blown wide, his hands still hovering near your waist as if he could physically pull the “yes” out of you. “What—where you going?” His fingers were grazing the fabric of your skirt.

You didn’t flinch. Instead, you tilted your head, letting a slow, faux-sympathetic pout pull at your lips. You reached out, patting his cheek with a condescending softness that felt like a slap.

“Oh, Junmyeon,” you sighed, your voice dripping with mock pity as you watched the frustration boil behind his eyes. “You look so... desperate. It’s almost sad. But I’m afraid I’m not on the menu tonight.”

“What do you mean?” he hissed, his jaw tightening so hard you could hear the bone click.

“It means I have much better plans,” you said, checking your reflection in the front mirror, fixing your lipstick and hair. “The girls and I are heading out. Drinks, dancing, and absolutely zero mention of you.”

The mention of your friends—the same ones who had just been strengthening your resolve to kick his ass—made his expression shift from heat to pure, unadulterated annoyance.

“You’re really going to choose a night of cheap cocktails over me?” he challenged, his voice straining, trying to sound indifferent.

“In a heartbeat,” you whispered, leaning in one last time just to leave a kiss on his jaw, leaving a perfect red mark of lipstick there before yanking the door handle. “Better luck next time, sweetheart.”

You stepped out, the sound of your heels clicking sharply against the concrete like a victory march. As you shut the door, you looked back through the window one last time. He was sitting there, eyes closed, his tie crooked, his pulse visible in his neck, gripping the wheel harder enough to notice his frustration bubbling up.

You just kept walking, laughing all the way to the elevator, leaving him exactly where you wanted him: wanting more and having nothing.

Three rounds in, the alcohol had softened the sharp edges of the week, and you, Sora, Minji, and Hana were hunched over a sticky table, howling with laughter and absurdity.

“You know,” Minji said, her eyes twinkling with that specific brand of drunken mischief, “I was looking at the two of you during the announcement today. Despite all the ‘I hope you trip into a volcano’ glares... you and Junmyeon would actually make a terrifyingly hot couple.”

You nearly choked on your drink, a spray of gin and tonic barely missing the table. “Minji, please. I’d rather date a cactus!”

“I don’t know…” Sora chimed in, leaning forward with a conspiratorial whisper. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you when you aren’t looking at him. It’s not just rivalry. It’s like he wants to... eat you. Or ruin you. Or both.”

“Yeah, my career,” you corrected, though your heart did a traitorous little flip.

Hana, never one to let a fire die out, poured more gasoline. “Oh, he’s definitely got that energy. Y’know, the one who looks like a perfect gentleman in that suit but probably has a whole different personality in bed.”

“Stop! This is ridiculous!” you laughed, trying to wave them off, but your face felt suspiciously warm. “He’s a robot.”

“A very attractive robot,” Minji countered, wagging her eyebrows. “C’mon. You’ve been in close quarters with him for months. Can’t you tell me you haven’t noticed the aura? He’s got that ‘good in bed’ energy. Like, really good.”

You had to bite your tongue so hard it actually hurt.

“I wouldn’t know,” you said, your voice remarkably steady despite the internal chaos. “I’m too busy trying not to get a headache from his cologne.”

“Bet he’s a biter,” Sora added thoughtfully, tapping her chin.

“Nah, he likes being bitten,” Hana corrected. “You haven’t seen his neck?”

“I saw it too!” Minji laughed. “It’s always the ones who look the most composed who are the most unhinged behind closed doors, huh?” She patted your arms, noticing you were deadly silent, swallowing your words.

The irony was so thick you could taste it. You were sitting there, while your friends spent twenty minutes dissecting the exact sexual prowess of the man who had been hooking up with you for months.

“You guys are obsessed,” you said, letting out a genuine, breathless laugh at the absurdity of it all. “I don’t wanna talk about my nemesis here! C’mon, it’s girl night!”

“Fine, fine.” Hana laughed, raising her glass. “But mark my words. One of these days, that tension is going to snap, and I’ll be nearby when it happens.”

It already snapped, Hana, you thought, taking a long, triumphant sip of your drink.

“Wait, wait, wait!” Minji said, her eyes widening as she slammed her glass onto the table. “I just remembered. You two live in the same building!”

The table went silent for a heartbeat before erupting.

“Oh, you’ve been holding out on us!” Sora squealed, leaning so far across the table she was practically in your lap. “That means you see him in the wild. Does he wear those suits to get the mail?”

“It’s just a building!” You tried desperately to keep your voice from trembling. “I barely see him.”

“Liar!” Hana pointed a finger at you, her face flushed with gin-induced excitement. “Look at her—she’s got that look. You’ve seen something, haven’t you? What is it? His gym routine? He looks good in gray sweatpants and sweaty?”

“Hana, stop,” you laughed, though the mental image of Junmyeon in anything casual—or nothing at all—was currently playing on a loop in your brain.

“Bet his apartment is just as cold and clinical as his office,” Minji mused, her mind clearly heading into dirtier territory. “All glass and chrome. Very American Psycho. I bet he’s the type who watches himself in the mirror while he—”

“Minji!” you gasped, actually laughing. “You’re officially banned from talking for the rest of the night.”

“No, tell us!” Sora insisted, grabbing your arm. “Have you ever been in his place? Or has he been in yours? Oh my god… imagine the tension in that elevator. Just the two of you, floor after floor, staring at the numbers, knowing you hate each other but also knowing he’s... well, he’s him."

You thought about that very elevator—the way the doors had hissed shut, the way he’d slammed his hands against the wall, the way you’d yanked his tie until he stumbled.

Shit.

“No… definitely not,” you managed to say, your face burning.

“She’s blushing!” Hana screamed, attracting looks from the neighboring tables. “She’s totally thinking about him! C’mon! If you don’t tell us right now, I’m gonna call him myself and ask.”

“You wouldn’t dare…” Though a part of you knew Hana was drunk enough to try.

“Then give us something!” Sora pleaded. “Just one detail.”

You took a long, slow sip of your drink, the cool liquid doing nothing to soothe the heat in your cheeks. You thought about the bite mark on his neck, the way he’d growled your name into the mattress, and the look of pure, unhinged frustration on his face when he cu—

You shook your head, forcing a look of mild boredom. “I saw him running once.” You offered a small, shrug-like gesture as if the memory was barely worth the effort to recall. “Late at night. He had headphones on and looked just as miserable as he does when I’m beating his sales numbers. We didn’t even speak. That’s the extent of our ‘neighborly’ relationship.”

“Just once?” Sora asked, her voice dripping with disappointment. “No late-night elevator runs for snacks? No bumping into him while you’re both taking out the trash in your pajamas?”

“I’m pretty sure he purposely takes the service stairs just to avoid the risk of seeing my face and ruining his night,” you lied, the words tasting like gin.

“That sounds like him,” Hana muttered, swirling the ice in her glass. “The man is so dedicated to being your enemy that he’d probably move out if he thought you were getting too comfortable.”

“Exactly!” you said, taking a long, casual sip of your drink. “He’s just a guy who lives in the same building and makes my life a living hell from nine to five.”

You leaned back, letting their chatter wash over you as they finally shifted the topic to Minji’s dating app disasters. Inside, your heart was still thudding a mile a minute.

Admitting the truth—that you knew exactly what he looked like when he was out of breath, or that he’d been in your bed at 3:00 AM more times than you could count—would change everything. You weren’t ready to share the satisfaction of having Junmyeon exactly where you wanted him.

But as you laughed at Minji’s stories, your hand ghosted over your phone in your purse. You wondered if he was still sitting in that car, fuming, or if he was already back at the building, waiting for the sound of your heels in the hallway.

The walk from the taxi to the elevator ride felt lonely, boring with the lack of his presence. When the doors hissed open on your floor, instead of turning left toward your own door, you found yourself standing in front of his.

You were so close to knocking, close enough to imagine him on the other side—maybe sitting on that leather sofa with a glass of bourbon, still wearing that navy suit, and fuck.

With a sharp, internal snap, you pulled your hand back. Not tonight.

You turned on your heel and marched the few steps to your own door. When you tried to shove the key into the lock, your coordination betrayed you; the metal slipped, clattering clumsily to the floor.

“Shit.”

As you reached down to retrieve it, the floor seemed to tilt. You caught yourself against the wall, fingers splayed against the cold surface as the evening’s drinks finally caught up with you.

The elevator doors opened again. Junmyeon stepped out, winded from his run and radiating a heat that seemed to close the distance between you instantly. He was dressed in a black shirt and shorts, a light running jacket clinging to his frame in all the right places. His hair was damp, his chest heaved with every labored breath, and a single bead of sweat traced a path down his temple before disappearing into his collar. He didn’t even look up at you first; he was adjusting his glasses.

“Enjoying the view?”

His voice sent a treacherous shiver down your spine, snapping you out of a trance you hadn’t realized you’d fallen into. Junmyeon moved with an effortless grace that your own buzzed senses couldn’t match, unlocking his door in one fluid motion and leaving it ajar—a silent invitation.

The alcohol in your system felt like it had suddenly evaporated. You tightened your grip on your keys, the metal biting into your palm, before you crossed the threshold and shut the door behind you.

“I wasn’t looking at you.” But your eyes were fixed on the way his clothes matched his body proportions perfectly.

Junmyeon chuckled, tossing his watch and keys onto the table. He turned back to face you. “Is that so?” He took a step closer to you, a dark, triumphant smirk finally spreading across his face. “Then why are you here?”

“I—just to clarify that. Yeah,” you stammered, the excuse sounding pathetic even to your own ears. “I should go.”

“Sure.” Junmyeon’s voice dropped to a low register. He didn’t move an inch back, but his scent was clouding your senses. “The door is right behind you.”

Your feet were stuck, and your gaze was locked on his lips, taking a step closer.

“That’s what I thought.”

As Junmyeon closed the final inch, your defenses evaporated. Your purse slid forgotten from your shoulder, and the keys you had been gripping so tightly clattered to the floor. You didn’t care. You reached for him, your composure snapping as you crashed your lips against his.

Junmyeon reacted instantly. He trapped you against the door, sliding down one of his hands, searingly hot, to find the hem of your skirt, his fingers tracing the sensitive skin of your thigh with a proprietary force that made your knees buckle.

“Fuck—I hate you,” you gasped against his mouth.

“Not as much as I do,” Junmyeon murmured, tearing his mouth from yours to trail a path of heat down your jaw. His lips found the frantic pulse in your neck, devouring your skin, leaving hot marks. Your fingers tangled desperately into his hair, pulling him closer.

You shrugged out of your blazer, the fabric hitting the floor to join your keys and purse. Junmyeon slid his hand further up your skirt, then rubbed his fingers against your panties. The sudden, hot realization of your own wetness made every sensation feel amplified, a deep ache settling in your cunt that only he could soothe.

Junmyeon’s mouth remained anchored to your neck, his breath hot against your skin, while his free hand began to work the buttons of your blouse with a practiced, agonizing slowness. He exposed more skin, centimeter by centimeter, following the trail of the fabric with hungry, wet, searing kisses.

Your hips began to buck instinctively against his hand, a silent, desperate plea for him to touch you properly, to rub harder against your folds. You were losing the battle, your breath hitching in broken gasps. You could feel the wetness of his tongue against your bra, his hot breath cooling against the fabric, claiming you.

Junmyeon pulled away barely an inch, looking at you with hungry eyes, his hot fingers leaving you shivering and bereft. You watched, breathless and whimpering against the door, as he brought his hand up between your faces. His two fingers were slick. Without breaking eye contact, he slid his fingers into his mouth, watching you gasp again.

Junmyeon licked them clean with his tongue, swallowing as he tasted you. The sight of his lips wrapped around his own fingers while he stared you down felt like it was certainly an erotic vow.

“Fucking delicious.”

His voice sent a fresh wave of heat straight to your core. You couldn’t even find a retort. All you could do was stare at his mouth, your heart hammering a frantic rhythm against your ribs, waiting for him to finish what he’d started.

“Jun—”

The friction of the lace was gone, replaced by the searing heat of his bare skin against yours. Junmyeon slid two fingers downward, finding your aching folds and directly rubbing them again with a heavy, rhythmic pressure that made your breath catch in a sharp, broken gasp.

“What is it?” His voice was thick with a dark sort of pride, ghosting your lips. “So desperate, doll.”

Before you could snap back, he collided his lips against your mouth and drove his fingers inside your cunt. The sudden fullness made you whimper, your teeth sinking into his lower lip in a sharp, instinctive bite. Junmyeon’s mouth curved into a smirk against yours, savoring the sting, groaning. He knew he had you.

His pace quickened, his fingers curling inside you with a ruthless precision that forced you to cling to his shoulders. You arched your back, your spine hitting the door as you bucked your hips against his hand, chasing the friction. He hummed in approval, a low vibration you felt deep in your chest, before his lips began a slow, torturous descent.

“Fuck! Don’t stop—ah.”

Junmyeon trailed wet, lingering kisses down your throat and over the swell of your chest, his breath hot through the thin fabric of your bra. When he finally caught your nipple between his teeth, biting down through the lace, the double hit of pleasure made your head toss back.

The wet, rhythmic sound of his fingers with vengeance, the friction even more intense. Junmyeon began scissoring his fingers deep inside you, catching your rhythm and then shattering it by going faster, harder, until your senses were completely blinded. You were a live wire in his hands, your gasps turning into frantic, wordless pleas as the coiling heat tightened once again, turning into a searing, unbearable pressure.

“Shit—yes.”

You were right there, your body trembling, your vision blurring as you prepared to shatter. And then, with the surgical precision of a man who knew exactly how to break you, Junmyeon stopped.

“Son of a bitch!” You let out a desperate, strangled sound—a mix of a sob and a moan—as your orgasm retreated just as it reached its peak.

Your legs were shaking so violently you had to lean your entire weight against the door just to stay upright, your inner muscles twitching and aching for more. You looked at him through a haze of frustration, your eyes stinging with the sheer need of it.

Junmyeon was looking at you, his chest rising and falling in a steady, maddeningly calm rhythm, lips curved, and that triumphant chuckle.

“C’mon, honey. You can resist a little tease.” His voice was smooth and terrifyingly steady. He was so close to your face, you could feel his warm breath. “Right?”

“You... bastard!” you managed to choke out, your voice a fractured wreck of its former self. You tried to reach for him, but your coordination was gone, your body heavy and oversensitive. “Just—finish it.”

“But that won’t be fun,” he murmured, his gaze dropping to your mouth.

Junmyeon just watched you—watched the way your breath hitched and the way your hands clawed at his shoulders—completely unfazed by the storm he had unleashed inside you. He was the one in total control, and he was savoring every second of your undoing.

“Please—Junmyeon, please.”

“Can make an exception.”

The agonizingly slow drag of his fingers returned, a deliberate, torturous rhythm that felt like he was mocking your desperation. Junmyeon was playing with you, teasing your sensitized flesh with a casual cruelty that left you utterly powerless. You couldn’t even form a coherent thought; your world had shrunk to the point where his hand met your body. You bucked your hips instinctively, trying to force a faster pace, your fingers digging into the hard muscle of his forearm in a silent, white-knuckled plea for him to just keep going.

“So impatient,” he murmured, his voice a low vibration against your jaw. He trailed his tongue along the sensitive line of your neck, his breath hitching.

Just as the frustration peaked, his fingers snapped back into a blurring, ruthless speed, sending a violent jolt of electricity straight up your spine, your head snapping back against the door. You whimpered, the sound broken and raw, but the fear of him stopping again was more intense than the pleasure itself.

“P-please,” you finally gasped out, the word shattering the last of your pride. Your eyes were shut tight, your body arching into his as the coiling tension in your core became an unbearable, white-hot knot. “Junmyeon, please... don’t stop. Not again. I can’t—I’ll do whatever you want, just—shit. Don’t stop.”

Junmyeon let out a low, triumphant growl, his teeth grazing your earlobe as his pace turned even more punishing. “Oh?”

He pushed you past the breaking point, his fingers relentless and cruel as he kept you balanced on that jagged, unbearable edge. He adjusted his rhythm just enough to keep the tension coiling tighter, turning the pleasure into a beautiful, agonizing form of torture.

“What is it?” His voice dropped. He stopped his fingers for a heartbeat, hovering just at the entrance of your cunt. “Wanna cum?”

The frustration finally broke you. Tears of pure, overstimulated desperation welled in your eyes, blurring the sight of his smug, hot face. You nodded frantically, your pride evaporated.

“Yes,” you choked out. “Yes, damn it. Yes!”

“Good girl.”

Junmyeon drove his fingers back inside with a brutal, blurring speed, his thumb finding that aching spot with a proprietary force. You whimpered into his shoulder as your orgasm finally crashed over you, a violent, bone-deep release that felt like an explosion.

Your inner walls clenched around his fingers in frantic, rhythmic waves, milking the friction as you bucked helplessly against him. Your legs gave out completely, leaving you hanging on his frame as your body was racked by tremor after tremor.

Junmyeon watched you with a look of dark, satisfied possession, savoring the way you were reduced to a trembling, sobbing mess in his arms.

Junmyeon carried you effortlessly, your arms locked around his neck, before he dropped you onto the middle of his bed. The moment your back hit the mattress, you reached for him, pulling him down into a raw kiss. Your hands roamed over him, desperate to find skin, and the friction was so intense he finally bucked under your touch.

He couldn’t resist you any longer as you finished the job with your blouse, tossing it aside. Junmyeon surged forward, his mouth hungry and desperate as he attacked your neck, his breath coming in jagged lunges. He made quick work of your bra, and when your skin was finally exposed to the cool air, he didn’t give you a second to breathe. He buried his face against your tits, his kisses desperate and wide-mouthed as he devoured you.

“Junmyeon... please,” you moaned, your voice a fractured wreck as you arched your body off the sheets. Your hips were already moving in a frantic, instinctive search for pressure. “I need you.”

Junmyeon pulled back for a single heartbeat, looking down at you, swollen lips and his eyes dark, hungry, letting you take his glasses off. Without a word, he yanked his shirt over his head, muscles tensing under the dim light, before he dropped between your legs.

“Yes—”

He stripped your panties and your skirt away with a ruthless efficiency, his mouth immediately finding the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. Junmyeon trailed wet, searing kisses upward, marking every inch of you, his hands gripping your knees to keep you open for him.

“I know you need me, doll,” he rasped, his voice vibrating against your skin. “C’mere.”

Junmyeon adjusted his position until he could settle himself firmly beneath you. He made you sit right on his face, the heat of his skin meeting the slick, aching center of your pussy. Your legs were already trembling violently, your senses so overstimulated that the mere proximity of him made your head spin.

You felt his hands slide up to your waist, anchoring you in place, before he delivered a giant, wet lick that traced you from bottom to top. The raw sensation of his tongue against your slit made you gasp into the empty room, your fingers dropping his glasses aside, clawing at the sheets as you buckled over him, completely at the mercy of his mouth.

You lost it immediately, your body jerking on top of him as your damp, swollen folds met the relentless heat of his mouth. He wasn’t being polite; he was loud and messy, the wet sounds of his tongue lapping at you and his moans filling the quiet of the bedroom and making your skin flush a deep, frantic red.

Junmyeon was devouring you with a desperation that told you he’d been starving as much as you did. Every slow, heavy stroke of his tongue against your slit sent a fresh jolt of electricity straight to your brain. You were squirming, rocking your hips as you tried to find a rhythm, but he was too fast, too thorough.

“Ah—Junmyeon, fuck!” you choked out, your fingers finding his hair, practically pulling at the roots.

In a fit of pure, unadulterated lust, you tried to squeeze your inner thighs against his head, wanting to trap him there, to force him even deeper into your mess. Junmyeon let out a muffled, dark growl against your skin, his hands sliding up to your ass to grip you with a bruising force, holding you steady as he focused entirely on your clit.

Junmyeon began to suck at that tiny, overstimulated point of nerves, his tongue swirling around it with a rhythmic, drowning pressure. You were a complete wreck, your voice high and jagged as you cried out, your hips bucking uncontrollably against his mouth. He was making a total mess of you, the slick evidence of your desire coating his lips and chin, but he didn’t care. He just drank you in, his breathing ragged and loud between every hungry lap.

“Shit, shit, shit. Yes!”

You were completely undone, the friction of his tongue driving you into a fever state where the only thing that existed was the wet, rhythmic sound of him eating you out. You turned your head a second, your vision swimming, and saw that he had kicked his shorts and boxers down just enough to free himself.

His hand was clamped around his cock, his fist moving in a fast, punishing blur as he jerked himself off. You could see the veins standing out on his forearm, the sheer force of his grip as he squeezed himself hard, his knuckles white.

“Fucking hell—you’re so addictive,” he groaned, making your core throb with a renewed, agonizing intensity.

You couldn’t help yourself, your voice a broken, breathless wreck as his mouth continued to claim you.

“Don’t... don’t you dare stop,” you hissed, your hands grabbing the headboard as you bucked your hips against his face. “Fucking eat me. Ah—just like that.”

You turned your head again. The sight of him working himself to the rhythm of his own tongue lapping at your slit was too much. You tried to squeeze your thighs against his face again, wanting to feel the vibration of his growls deep in your bones.

Junmyeon let out a jagged, guttural sound, his fist moving even faster as he buried his face deeper into your pussy—his tongue swirling around your clit with ruthless pressure.

“Fuck!”

The second climax hit you far more violently than before. Your swollen folds were almost too sensitive to bear, but the relentless pressure of his mouth wouldn’t let you escape. You felt your inner walls contract in frantic, agonizing spasms, the orgasm finally snapping through you. A raw, jagged cry teared from your throat as you shattered completely, your entire body vibrating against him, digging your nails into the headboard.

At that exact same moment, Junmyeon’s own control finally disintegrated. His fist worked in one last, punishing blur against his cock, and he let out a loud, choked-off shout—a sound of pure, unbridled release.

His body jolted violently against your thighs, his muscles locking tight. The sheer force of the climax left him physically drained, his grip on your waist finally loosening as he slumped forward.

Junmyeon let out a long, shaky exhale against your skin, holding you as the aftershocks continued to roll through you. He lingered, his tongue moving in slow, languid strokes to clean you. The sensation was almost too much for your overstimulated nerves.

“Fuck,” you gasped, though your hands were still buried in his hair, pulling him closer.

When Junmyeon finally shifted, he pulled you up, his muscles slick and straining as he guided you to sit firmly on his lap. You were face-to-face now, your skin flushed and damp, meeting the beautiful, honest mess that was left of his control. He leaned back against the headboard, his chest heaving in heavy, jagged lunges. The tension that usually tightened his shoulders was gone, replaced by a raw, satisfied relief.

“You look far too proud of yourself,” you whispered, your voice a breathless wreck as you pushed a stray, damp lock of hair from his forehead.

“I think I’ve earned it,” he rasped, his eyes hooded and dark with a proprietary heat, smirking. “I didn’t know my name could sound that filthy in your mouth.”

“You arrogant bastard,” you breathed, a small, shaky smile tugging at your lips.

“And yet, here you are,” he countered, his hands sliding down to grip your waist, his thumbs digging into your skin.

“Just because your tongue does better things than fight me back.” Testing the waters, you reached down, your finger tracing the hypersensitive tip of his length.

The contact made him hiss a jagged curse, his entire body jerking involuntarily. “Fuck—you vixen!” He winced, the pleasure-pain of the post-orgasm sensitivity hitting him hard, but he did tilt his hips into your touch.

“What? I’m just admiring the mess you made,” you teased, your finger circling his tip again, watching his knuckles turn white as he gripped the sheets. “You were louder tonight, Junmyeon. I didn’t know you had that in you.”

“Don’t start,” he warned, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. “I wasn’t the one begging tonight.”

“You’re the one who pushed me there,” you countered, leaning in until your lips brushed his ear. “You wanted me desperate. Needy.”

Junmyeon let out a long, shaky exhale, his head falling back against the wood. “Y-yeah. I wanted to ruin you.” He looked at your hand again, watching with a dark, mesmerized intensity as you continued to stroke him. Even though he was spent, even though he was raw, he let you touch, his breath hitching every time your skin grazed his.

“You’re addicted to this,” you whispered, looking up at him, curving your lips. “To me.”

“Completely,” he admitted, his voice dropping to a vulnerable, honest low.

You shifted your weight and wrapped your hand firmly around the base of his length. Junmyeon let out a sharp, fractured breath that sounded almost like a sob.

“Oh, Kim,” you whispered, leaning in until your lips grazed his ear, curving your lips. “Reduced to a shaking mess because I’m barely touching you?”

You started to jerk him off, your rhythm slow, designed to draw out every ounce of his sensitivity. Junmyeon hissed a string of jagged curses, his head snapping back against the headboard, his eyes squeezed shut as his body jolted.

“You like this, don’t you?” you purred. You leaned forward and sank your teeth into his lower lip, biting just hard enough to make him groan.

“Fuck…” he gasped, his hands coming up to grip your waist with a white-knuckled intensity. He tried to pull you closer, his hips bucking upward in a desperate search for more, but you held him back, keeping the pace agonizingly steady.

“Uh-uh.” Your hand tightened slightly as you moved up to his tip, watching his throat move as he swallowed hard. “You enjoyed watching me struggle, hmm? You liked making me wait and beg.”

You leaned back just enough to look at him—his hair disheveled, his cheeks flushed, his lips swollen, his eyes desperate. Junmyeon looked completely undone.

“Now it’s your turn,” you purred, your thumb circling the sensitive tip of him until his breath hitched and stayed there. “I think I’m going to keep you right here for a while. I want to hear you beg.”

“You—you cruel woman,” he rasped, his eyes fluttering open, dark and hazed with a mix of pain and pure, unadulterated lust.

“Uh-uh. I’m just playing your game,” you countered. “Don’t complain when I use it all on you.”

You pulled your hand away with a sharp, clinical suddenness, mirroring the exact cruelty he’d shown you. Junmyeon’s hips bucked reflexively, chasing the heat that had just vanished, and he let out a strangled, desperate sound that was half-growl, half-sob.

“Don’t—” he rasped, his eyes snapping open, wide and hazed with a frantic kind of need. He reached for you, his fingers brushing your waist, but you pulled just out of reach, moving back on the bed.

“What?” Your voice was airy and teasing as you watched him tremble. “I thought maybe you liked the wait.”

“Shit—please,” he groaned, looking utterly wrecked, his chest heaving, his pride lying in tatters on the floor. “Don’t do this. Please… fuck, I’m begging you.”

“Are you?” You knelt between his legs, your shadow falling over his flushed skin. You reached out, your finger grazing the slick, pearly cum at his tip, and then you brought them to your lips, tasting him right in front of his eyes.

Junmyeon let out a hissed, jagged breath, his knuckles whitening as he gripped the sheets.

“Who’s in charge, Junmyeon?” you whispered, your eyes locked on his.

“Fuck,” he choked out, his voice cracking. “Y-you are. Just... please, do it.”

Satisfied with the brokenness in his tone, you leaned down. You started by swirling your tongue around the sensitive crown, catching every drop of his sensitivity. Junmyeon groaned, his hands flying to your hair, guiding you, his fingers trembling against your scalp.

Then, you took him into your mouth, swallowing him whole.

The low, guttural sound he made was pure animal instinct. His hips began to move lazily, a rhythmic, desperate thrust against your mouth as he fought to stay conscious. The feeling of his cock hitting the back of your throat sent a violent jolt of heat straight to your own cunt; you were so wet you could feel your inner walls clenching around nothing, aching for a fullness that only he could provide.

“Fuck... yes! Right there.” His voice was a fractured wreck as his grip on your hair tightened, anchoring you to him. “Don’t… don’t you fucking stop. I’m gonna—shit.”

Junmyeon was completely at your mercy, his breathing turning into sharp, frantic hitches as your tongue worked over him, driving him toward a peak that he couldn’t escape. He was loud, messy, and entirely yours, his swearing turning into wordless pleas as he teetered on the very edge of his sanity, his chest heaving, his hip colliding uncoordinated with your face.

You reached down with your free hand, your fingers curling around him to squeeze his balls with a firm, proprietary grip, while your other hand jerked him with a fast, ruthless rhythm.

“Ah—yes, baby,” he choked out, his hands tangling desperately in your hair. “You’re fucking killing me. Shit—”

“Shh,” you murmured, pulling back just enough to give him a messy kiss. “You’re doing so good for me, Junmyeon. Such a good, obedient boy.”

“Don’t—” he groaned, a jagged, broken sound. “Please.” He shut his eyes, his hands trembling.

“What?” You smirked, grazing your lips on his, jerking him off. “You like it when I call you good boy?”

He barely nodded, probably ashamed that the lust was deeper. “Fuck, please... just finish me. Please?”

“I didn’t hear you.” Your fist squeezed harder. “You like it?”

“Yes! Fuck—I do!”

Satisfied, you gave him a quick kiss before taking him deep, swallowing his whole cock. Junmyeon groaned so loud that it made your own core pulse with a frantic, wet ache. You were a winner, and you both knew it—you could feel it in the way his muscles were locked tight, the way his swearing turned into a high, frantic whine.

“Yes, ah—yes!”

Junmyeon finally broke. With a loud, guttural groan, his body jolted violently. He came with a force that was staggering, hot sperm hitting the back of your throat as he pumped into your mouth. You coughed, trying to take every bit of him, even as it became too much to swallow, the excess dripping down your chin and onto your chest.

Junmyeon was completely overwhelmed, his body racking with aftershocks so intense his legs were still twitching against the sheets. He slumped back, his hands finally falling limp from your hair, his breathing coming in shallow, sobbing gasps.

You pulled back, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, a triumphant, predatory smile on your face. You were covered in him—your lips, your chin, your skin—and the sight of him so utterly destroyed and overstimulated made you feel more powerful than any boardroom victory ever could.

You leaned down and mashed your mouth against his, a slow, sloppy kiss that was pure mockery. You deliberately smeared the slick evidence of his orgasm across his lips, tasting yourself and him all at once. Neither of you gave a shit about being clean; you were both too far gone, completely feral and obsessed.

“Tastes good, hmm?” you whispered against his mouth, your lips wet and glistening. “But you look like a fucking mess, Kim.”

Junmyeon let out a dark, ragged chuckle that sounded more like a growl, his eyes snapping open with a dangerous, predatory spark. “You think you fucking broke me? You think you’re in control because you can make me beg?”

Before the words could even fully leave his mouth, he gripped your waist and flipped you onto your back with a sudden, bruising force. The weight of his sticky, warm body pinned you flat against the mattress. You immediately felt the scorching heat of him—thick, heavy, and hard again, pressed right against your slick cunt.

“I’m gonna make you eat every single one of those words,” he rasped, his voice dropping to a filthy, gravelly whisper.

Junmyeon didn’t ease into you. He slammed his hips forward, burying his entire length inside you in one deep, ruthless thrust that bottomed out completely. You let out a sharp, high-pitched whimper, your toes curling as your overstimulated walls, raw from the previous orgasms, clenched around him like a vice. It was so intense that you reacted purely on instinct, arching your spine and biting his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood.

“Fuck—” Junmyeon groaned, tasting the copper on his tongue and immediately driving into you harder, his pace turning fast and punishing. “Fucking bite me again, you little psycho. Shit—you’re so goddamn tight.”

“Shut up and just fuck me, Junmyeon!” Your hands flew to his back, your nails digging into his skin and dragging down until you left long, angry red tracks. “Don’t you dare slow down—I wanna feel every fucking inch of you.”

“You like it rough, huh? You like it when I don’t give you a choice,” he half-growled, half-chuckled, his breathing coming in heavy, jagged lunges as the headboard began to slam violently against the wall.

He reached down, grabbing one of your thighs and pulling it high over his shoulder to open you up even more, angling his hips to hit that exact, agonizing spot inside you over and over again. He had you whimpering, incapable of saying a word but raw moans from your lips.

“Yes, doll. Look at how open you are for me. Shit—who owns this pathetic, aching pussy right now.”

With a low growl, Junmyeon slid his hand up from your waist, his palm wrapping around the front of your neck. He pressed down firmly, pinning you to the pillows. The sudden, heavy pressure on your throat sent a jolt of pure adrenaline straight to your core. Your internal muscles reacted instantly, contracting violently and clenching around his thick cock.

“Fucking tight,” Junmyeon choked out, his jaw tight as your raw, hyper-sensitive walls squeezed him with an agonizingly perfect grip. “Say it. Who owns you.”

“You—you do,” you whimpered, your voice breaking, tears of pure, unadulterated pleasure blurring your vision as he absolutely devoured you from the inside out. “You do, fuck... Junmyeon—you feel so good. I’m gonna—”

“No, baby. You don’t cum until I tell you to,” Junmyeon swore, his chest heaving as he stared down at you, his face flushed and his jaw locked in pure, obsessive lust. He slowed his pace for two agonizing strokes, grinding his pelvis hard against yours, making the friction so thick and wet it was deafening. “Swear to me, love. Swear you’re never gonna let anyone else touch you like this.”

“N-never,” you sobbed out, your hips instinctively bucking up to meet his heavy, brutal thrusts, completely addicted to the pain and the pleasure of him stretching you open. “Fucking ruin me, Junmyeon, please…”

You didn’t push his hand away. Instead, your fingers scrambled up to grip his forearm, your nails digging into his skin—not to pull him off, but to anchor him there, silently demanding that he keep the pressure exactly where it was and push even deeper inside you.

“More,” you gasped out of breath, the word getting caught in your throat as tears of intense, overstimulated pleasure welled in your eyes and spilled down your temples. “I’m yours—I’m fucking yours!”

“That’s it. All mine,” he rasped, his own control disintegrating as his movements turned into a blurring, frantic frenzy of pure friction and sweat.

Neither of you could handle the raw, hyper-sensitive heat for more than a few minutes; it was a race to the absolute edge of your sanity, both of you completely lost in a blind, chaotic rhythm that was burning you both to the ground.

His heavy, sweat-slicked body was betraying him; every time he slammed deep inside you, a violent tremor would wrack his spine, his muscles locking up before he dragged himself back to plunge into you again. His lips were parted, his jaw strained so tight it looked like it would crack, and he was being incredibly loud, letting out deep, animalistic grunts and breathless curses with every heavy, wet thrust that echoed through the room.

“Jun—ah, please,” you choked out breathless, the sound barely escaping your throat as tears streamed down into your hair. Your hips bucked up on instinct, chasing the brutal friction, completely addicted to the agonizingly perfect pressure of his hand and his body. “I’m—I’m close—fuck, I can’t—”

“I know,” he growled, his gaze dark and hazed with an overwhelming, dangerous level of lust as he stared down at your wrecked face. Junmyeon finally freed your leg, but not your neck. He leaned down, his chest crushing your breasts, his mouth finding your ear as his hips accelerated into a blinding, frantic frenzy. “Just one… one more second. Shit—together. I wanna feel you crushing me.”

You nodded weakly. The raw sensation between your slick, swollen folds was deafening, a sloppy, desperate mess of skin against skin that threatened to burn you both down. Your fingers were clawing uselessly at his forearms as the pleasure became too intense to bear.

The press of his hand on your neck vanished the exact moment he lost it. A sharp, ragged gasp of air rushed back into your lungs just as your shared climax hit with a devastating, paralyzing force. Junmyeon’s control completely disintegrated; his hands slammed into the mattress on either side of your head, curling into white-knuckled fists as his entire body locked tight.

“Fuck…” he growled breathless.

You scrambled to hold him closer, wrapping your arms and trembling legs around his sweat-slicked frame, desperate to bridge any remaining distance, wanting to feel every single inch of your skin fused together. Inside you, his cock was throbbing violently, filling you up so completely that it felt like an electric current was surging through your veins. Your entire body was trembling, caught in a wave of violent, uncontrollable spasms.

Junmyeon couldn’t help himself—he gave a few final, sloppy, uncoordinated thrusts, rubbing your clit with his own thumbs, sending you entirely over the edge. Overstimulated to the point of delirium, you squirted against him, a high, fractured cry tearing from your throat and burying itself in the crook of his neck. You bit down on his shoulder, your nails anchoring deep into his back, riding the wave until he finally stopped moving altogether.

“Jesus Christ—Junmyeon!”

With a final, low groan, Junmyeon collapsed, his exquisite, heavy weight crushing you into the mattress. Neither of you moved an inch. You just lay there, a tangled tangle of limbs, sweaty, wet, and completely spent. Your internal walls and his muscles were still twitching with aftershocks as you both gasped for air.

Junmyeon let out a tired, breathless chuckle against your collarbone, the tension completely melted from his frame. “Fuck,” he rasped, his voice a deep, gravelly ruin as he tightened one heavy arm around your waist, pulling you securely against his side. “We... we need a shower.”

A breathless, exhausted laugh bubbled up from your chest, your lips brushing against his damp shoulder. “But you’re carrying me.”

“Deal.”

After the warm water of the shower had finally washed away the sticky, frantic evidence of the night, Junmyeon carried you back to the fresh side of the bed. The cool, clean sheets felt like heaven against your scrubbed skin, but you didn’t stay apart for long. Almost immediately, he pulled you against his chest, molding his body to your back and draping a heavy, possessive arm over your waist. He buried his face deep into the damp curve of your neck, his nose hidden in the strands of your hair as his breathing slowed into a deep, rhythmic hum.

“Junmyeon?” you murmured. “That was my shampoo?”

He let out a lazy and completely unbothered song, shifting just a fraction, tightening his grip on your waist as if trying to physically anchor you into silence. “Dunno what you’re talking about.”

You could hear the sheer exhaustion filling his lungs, his voice gravelly and weighed down by the sleep he was desperately chasing, but your curiosity got the better of you. “Don’t play dumb. You bought it, but you clearly haven’t used it. Why is it in there?”

“I like the smell,” he mumbled defensively into your neck, his breath warm against your collarbone.

A tiny, knowing smile tugged at your lips. Junmyeon had bought your exact shampoo just to have it ready for the moments you stayed over, a quiet gesture that felt incredibly loud.

Intrigued, you carefully rolled over within the tight circle of his arms to face him. The movement made him let out a soft, disgruntled groan, but he didn’t let you go. You blinked through the dark, finding his sleepy face just inches from yours. His eyes were tightly shut, his hair soft over his forehead, and his swollen lower lip was pulled into a faint, exhausted pout.

You reached up as you gently cupped his face. Your thumb brushed just below his eye, tracing the soft, relaxed skin. “Buying my shampoo just so when I’m here. Who knew my biggest rival was actually such a softie?”

Junmyeon let out a low, gravelly chuckle that vibrated right against your fingertips. “I’m not soft,” he mumbled, his voice thick and entirely ruined by sleep. “I’m practical. Now shut up and go to sleep.”

“It was also a practical move that you faked ending your run just when I came home?”

His eyes stayed shut, his arm tightening around your waist. “What the hell are you talking about? Please… go to sleep.”

“Liar,” you persisted, a sleepy, goofy smile spreading across your face as you remembered the struggle at your apartment door. "You were running with glasses, Junmyeon. You don’t do that. You just came because you saw me coming, fumbling with my keys, and then, you had the nerve to mock me.

“You were fumbling,” he murmured, a soft, amused laugh escaping his lips as he buried his face further into your hair, incapable of denying your accusation.

“I was perfectly sober,” you corrected, letting out a soft, absurd chuckle. “Those three cocktails didn’t even exist in my body. My system completely neutralized them.”

“Sure, sure.” He curved his lips, his voice thick with sleep. “We’ll see how that ‘neutralized’ system feels when the morning comes, and you’re begging me for aspirin.”

“Ugh, I hate you know me so well. But… you will give it to me just because I’m your favorite rival. Admit it.”

“Not quite sure,” he whispered back, finally wrapping his other arm around you to pull you completely into his space. He let out a long, heavy sigh. “Maybe just for tonight.”

“Still wrong,” you mumbled. “I’m your only rival. Everyone else just lets you win. You’d be bored to death without me.”

Junmyeon let out one last, quiet chuckle; the sound felt warm and private. He shifted slightly, his lips pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your temple, his breath warm against your skin.

“Maybe you’re right.” His voice dropped to a low, sleepy confession. Before you could say another word, he guided your head down, nudging you until your face was completely hidden in the warm crook of his neck. “Sleep,” he whispered against your hair, his hand pressing firmly between your shoulder blades to keep you tucked safely against him. “No more talking for tonight.”

You didn’t protest this time. Letting out a soft sigh, you wrapped one arm securely around his torso, anchoring him close. Your leg slid instinctively between his, lacing your limbs together under the heavy duvet until there wasn’t a single inch of space left between you.

As the heavy, comfortable silence of the room settled over you both once again, a quiet smile spread across your face, your eyes fluttering shut as you melted into his hold. And, against your hair, completely hidden in the dark (and the soft scent of your shampoo), Junmyeon was smiling too—neither of you truly knowing just how deeply the other was already losing the risky game.

part II: enemies with more benefits

☆ — junmyeon

is he nervous? of course. his heart is thundering, but he has all prepared after dinner. he takes the lead with a steady grace. there’s no rush; he’s the one who initiates the first tentative brush of lips, the one who deepens it into something breathless, and the one who pulls back just enough to look you and ask: “are you sure, love?”

when junmyeon hears your confirmation, the restraint snaps. he doesn’t need a second invitation. he begins to touch you like you’re his most valuable possession, his hands steady as he peels away your clothes, his mouth marking every newly exposed inch of skin with a lingering, possessive kiss.

“i can’t believe you’re finally mine,” he rasps. he sets an agonizingly deliberate pace, making you ache for his next move. he’s normally patient, but here... it feels like his body and mind are shutting down at once. 

junmyeon prioritizes you completely, but don’t get me wrong, he loves it—start kissing your breast, your lower belly, and then bury his face between your legs. he doesn’t miss out a moment to make out with your cunt, starving, uneven, his tongue and fingers working in a desperate, skillful rhythm. he’s crazy about the way you arch and curve under his touch, his fingers stretching you open as he laps you up until you reach the first orgasm, of course, not missing the chance to drink you up.

when he finally moves to fill you, he makes you his pillow princess—making love to you slowly, deeply, and with a rhythmic intensity that forces you to cling to him, pulling him closer and closer until you both shatter.

afterward, he craves you even more in the quiet skin-to-skin contact. he won’t let you rest until you both are breathless, incapable of moving aside. he cleans you up, kissing your skin softly, murmuring praises he wants to tattoo on your skin, his body tangled with yours as if he’s trying to stay under your skin.

☆ — minseok

his eagerness is written in his eyes, darkening until they’re nearly all pupils. there’s a shimmering, predatory heat in his gaze that makes you feel more beautiful—more seen—than you even have before. it’s a look that demands a response, and you find yourself matching his hunger, your hands pulling him closer, your mouth searching for his lips with a desperate, shared heat.

minseok’s fighting a war with himself. you can feel the tension in his muscles, the way his fingers dig into your waist as he tries to filter his primal instincts into something slow and sensual. he doesn’t want to rush; he wants to savor the friction.

“you have no idea what you doing to me,” he murmurs, his voice a low, gravelly vibration against your ear. his praises are like holy secrets, whispered confessions that only you’re allowed to hear. “so beautiful, so perfect for me.”

when the clothes are finally gone, minseok pulls you onto his lap, his large hands guiding your hips as you straddle him. he loves that you’re the one to lead, his eyes never leaving yours as you slowly lower yourself, burying him deep inside of you.

the sound he makes is a broken, airy groan—the sound of a man finally finding what he craves. he anchors you there, his palms molding to your hips and the small of your back, grounding you as you begin to move. he encourages you with those soft, threatless murmurs near your ear, his thumbs tracing the line of your spine while you ride him.

he lives for the way your eyes flutter shut and the way you find the exact rhythm he’s been dreaming of. to minseok, there’s nothing more sensual than watching you take exactly what you want from him.

later, he doesn’t let you go. he’ll keep you tucked against his chest, his legs still tangled with yours, his hands resting possessively on your hip after cleaning you. he’s quiet again, but the way he kisses your temple tells you that he’ll never let you go.

☆ — yixing

he has secretly been paying attention to all the things you really desire, secretly cataloging every hitch in your breath and every flush of your skin. he wants you to remember your first time as much as he will. of course he will act extra clingy, his lips constantly finding the sensitive curve of your neck, his voice a low hum of praise that leaves your cheeks burning. yes, he loves it. 

“i wanna show you exactly what’s been living in my head, babe,” he mumbles between possessive kisses. “every thought, every dream i’ve had of you… shit—” 

but the moment your hands turn bold, and your touch turns demanding, yixing loses it. fuck his soft side; he’s suddenly a storm of lust and unraveled fantasies. you lose track of where his mouth begins and ends as he claims every inch of you with a desperate heat.

his mouth finds your breast, his teeth grazing your skin just enough to make you gasp, before he moves downward. he eats you out like he’s trying to prove a point—or perhaps just to confirm that you’re his. he won’t stop, his tongue working in a relentless siege until you’re arching off the sheets, craving him inside you.

yixing becomes obsessed with the way you want him—the little whimpers, the way you beg for more while your skin is flushed. he finally gives you exactly what you’re screaming for. he enters you slowly, a deep slide that makes your eyes roll back. he immediately captures your lips with his, swallowing your moans to keep the sound of your pleasure trapped between you.

as he settles on top of you, his pace shifting from a slow grind to a heavy, rhythmic drive that feels like it’s reaching your soul. “don’t hide from me, gorgeous.” he’s reclaiming every part of you he’s ever dreamed of, his movements becoming more frantic as he nears his own limit. when you two reach it, he collapses against you for a few seconds before his lips bury in the crook of your neck, wanting even more, just like you.

☆ — baekhyun

he’s a man unraveled—someone eager, hungry, and entirely focused on making you feel a great time. he’s been a student of your reactions for weeks, and now that he finally has you where he wants, but keep it in mind... baekhyun isn’t in a rush. 

making out session is a must. his tongue tangles with yours until you’re breathless and whiny. he loves to notice that you want him just as much as he wants you. and oh... he surely will tease you just to make you feel frustrated, just to make you want him even more, secretly trying to hide he’s nervous too. 

“love, are you impatient?” he chuckles against your lips, his eyes sparkling with a mix of mischief and heat. “or are you just desperate for me?” his mouth migrates, leaving a trail of deep, wet kisses from the sensitive cord of your neck down to the swell of your breasts, leaving your clothes behind, slowly, tortuously. 

baekhyun cups your tits firmly, his hands massaging the soft skin with a possessive rhythm. he’s not really gentle; he bites your nipples—he sucks them too—his teeth grazing just enough to pull a sharp moan from your throat, before he soothes the sting with his tongue. but he doesn’t stop just there—his fingers slide down to find your cunt, stretching you out slowly, yet his mouth is working on your boobs. 

“i know you like that, gorgeous,” he murmurs with a cocky smirk, pulling his fingers out to suck them dry right in front of you. “sweet.” before he dives between your thighs like a starving man. he eats you out… and again, and again, and again, until his own lips ache.

he wants to give you everything at once, but your pleasure is his only priority. even when your first orgasm ripples through you, he doesn’t let you rest.

baekhyun keeps pushing your limits, fucking you with his fingers to keep the friction high until he finally replaces them with his cock. he slides into you with a deep, heave thrust that makes you gasp his name. he holds you so close you can feel the thud of his heart against your bear chest, every muscle in his body corded and tense as he claims you. and after he reaches his own peak, he keeps moving, his pace frantic and wet, driving you toward another climax before he finally follows you with his second one.

aftermath? baekhyun hauls you into a warm, steaming bath, but it’s full of sloppy, water-slicked kisses and lazy, uncoordinated strokes all over your body. he’s all silly smiles and whispered jokes, his hands never leaving your skin. there’s no shame left between you—just the comfortable heat.

“i told you,” he whispers, pulling you back against his chest in the tub. “i won’t let you forget tonight. not a single second… or i have to make you remember, mmh? you want that, gorgeous?”

☆ — jongdae

he’s the most attentive of them all. of course jongdae’s been extra romantic all evening, leaning into that cheesy, endearing charm that always makes your heart melt. he’s been dropping his lame jokes just to hear you laugh, using it as an excuse to steal quick, soft kisses against your cheek or the corner of your mouth.

you’ve noticed him trying to get closer all night—the way his thigh brushes yours under the table, or how his hands accidentally linger on the small of your back. you let him, leaning into his space and responding with boldness, as soon as he realizes you’re just as eager as he is, he becomes flirtier.

jongdae captures your lips in a kiss—deep, demanding, leaving you completely breathless. he pulls you onto his lap, warm hands immediately finding their way under the hem of your blouse. he explores your skin with a reverent touch, his thumbs tracing the line of your ribs while his lips capture yours.

he peels away your clothes as if he’s unwrapping a gift he’s waited so long for. and when you both are completely naked, he doesn’t hide anything. he lets you feel exactly how much power you have over him.

“see what you do to me?” his hands slide down to cup your ass and pull you even closer, grounding you against him. “just you.”

he lets you move over him, riding him at your own rhythm, loving the way your body bounces on him. he cups your breasts, his thumbs circling your nipples until they’re tight and aching, before he leans down to draw one into his mouth. watch out... he takes his time.

jongdae loves your messy sounds—the whines, the gasps, the way you call his name. he catches your moan with his mouth, kissing you deeply, groaning in between, anchoring your hips, and driving into you with a heavy pace. oh, and surely he will praise you a lot while he pushes you toward your limits.

when your orgasm reaches you, he follows you instantly, burying his face in the crook of your neck, holding you so tightly your own body couldn’t be closer to his.

some minutes later, he’ll clean you, pulling the duvet over both of you, cocooning you in his arms. promising he will take you breakfast in bed the next morning. yes, he won’t hide his happiness from finally having you all by himself.

☆ — chanyeol

from the moment the door shuts, chanyeol is a bundle of nervous energy. he’s been waiting for this—for you—for so long that he’s actually a little bit intimidated by the reality of it. when he leans in for that first kiss, he’s almost a bit too eager, clumsy. but the second you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him back in, the tension breaks. he melts against you, leaving a massive, shaky sigh of relief through his broad chest.

“sorry,” he chuckles breathlessly, embarrassed. “i’ve just... i’ve played this out in my head a thousand times, and i don’t wanna mess it up.”

chanyeol scoops you up into his arms as if you weigh nothing at all, carrying you to the bed with a sudden, determined stride. he kisses you so deeply, so thoroughly, that you barely have a second to catch your breath between the heat of his mouth and the weight of his body pinning you into the mattress.

clothes disappear in a frantic, tangled haze. soon, his large fingers are finding their way between your thighs, trapping you beneath him. he stretches you out with a focused, rhythmic patience. your hips buck against his hand, instinctively seeking more of him, and he smirks—that deep, rumbling dimpled grin—knowing he’s preparing you perfectly.

when he finally replaces his fingers with his cock, it’s a slow slide, but you have to wrap your legs around his waist to pull him even closer, needing to feel the full scale of him. chanyeol freezes for a second, his arms corded with tension as he peppers your face with tiny, frantic kisses. “you okay? you’re alright, baby?” he rasps, his voice a low, gravelly frequency that makes your toes curl. “i’ve got you.”

chanyeol starts at a slow, agonizingly sweet pace, but as he feels you relax and start to chase his rhythm, the fire grows. the weight of his body is a comfort—you feel every inch of him because his hands are everywhere. one second, they’re anchored on your waist, his thumbs digging in to claim you; the next, they’re sliding under your thighs to hike them higher, or cupping your breasts to feel the frantic thud of your heart.

“god, you feel so good.” he drives into you with a relentless pace, his large hands molding your skin as if he’s trying to memorize your shape. he urges to cum with you—a total, thundering surrender, his entire body going heavy and lax against yours.

afterward, he’ll wrap his entire body around you like a human shield, his chin resting on top of your head as he breathes you in. chanyeol whispers soft promises, while his hands stay possessively cupped around your waist, making sure you know you aren’t going anywhere.

☆ — kyungsoo

he doesn’t ask with direct words; he simply begins, his movements possessed by a calm, unwavering certainty. kyungsoo initiates the make-out session with a slow pull, one hand cupping your cheek with a possessive thumb stroking your jaw, while the other anchors firmly at your waist. when he hears that first, soft moan break from your throat, he won’t pull back—deepening the kiss into something wet and demanding.

kyungsoo undresses you with a torturous, methodical slowness. each button, each layer is treated with a reverent focus, his eyes never leaving yours as he exposes your skin. he watches your chest heave, enjoying the way your hands fumble with his own shirt in your eagerness, letting out a short chuckle at your impatience.

“patience.” he catches your frustrated huff with another deep, open-mouthed kiss. “we have all night, my love.”

kyungsoo settles onto his back and pulls you on top of him, letting you straddle his lap. for a moment, he lets you think you’re the one in control. but the second his hands find your hips, you realize that he’s the one grounding you, his fingers digging in just enough to guide your movements to his own steady, relentless pace.

and then… kyungsoo makes love to you with a terrifyingly calm rhythm, his eyes dark and dilated as they track every flicker of pleasure on your face. suddenly, he will stop. he just stops, holding you still while you’re flushed and panting, just to watch you unravel.

he just smirks at your frustration, his hands sliding up to cup your breasts, his thumbs grazing your nipples. “i like the way you look when you want more,” he rasps, his voice thick with a hunger he’s finally letting you see. “ask me again. tell me exactly what you want me to do, angel.”

kyungsoo only moves again when he can no longer resist the pleading look in your eyes and the sound in your voice. and yes, he won’t stop in just one round; there might be a second one—messy, heavier, and more desperate.

he kisses you hardly, his mouth searching for yours as if he’s trying to memorize the taste of you. of course, he’s exhausted, his muscles trembling with the effort of holding his own weight, but he doesn’t want to stop. he keeps driving into you with a slow, friction-filled grind that makes your head swim.

“don’t close your eyes,” he commands softly, his breath hot against your neck. “hold it a little longer. i’m not letting you go yet.”

later, he doesn’t say much, but he acts more... clingy. kyungsoo pulls you flush against his side, his arm a heavy, warm weight that holds you impossible closer. the way his lips brush your skin, and his nose keeps buried in the crook of your neck, tells you that even now, he’s still completely consumed by you. “thank you for this, love.”

☆ — jongin

he thinks he has everything planned. the movie playing as background noise, and a script in his head that he’s rehearsed a dozen times. but as you sit together, his nerves turn his movements into something hesitant and sweet. jongin tries to catch your attention with soft strokes along your forearm, his fingers lingering just a second too long against yours, stealing small, tentative kisses, but the smooth moves he practiced seem to fail him, so… he gives up.

he leans in, his nose brushing against your ear, murmuring softly: “can we… can we turn it off? i can’t focus on anything but you.” his honesty makes you melt. you’re flushed when you turn your head to him, him kissing you when you nod, and he gently guides your back against the plush cushions of the sofa. 

jongin moves with a cautious, breathtaking tenderness, treating you as if you were made of glass. between deep kisses, he behinds to peel away your clothes, his hands trembling just enough for you to notice. he lets out a soft, nervous chuckle when his fingers fumble with a button. “sorry. you’re just… so beautiful. i want this to be perfect for you.”

jongin puts you first in every sense of the word. his praises are hushed and reverent, whispered against your skin as he maps out your body with his palms. when he finally makes love to you, his hips move are slow and incredibly tender, filled with a reverence you’ve never seen before. he’s memorizing you—the curve of your waist, the heat of your breath, the way your fingers lock behind his neck when you’re close to your orgasm.

“stay with me,” he pleads, his voice breaking as he nears his limits. “right now, baby.”

but once that first peak passes, something shifts. he scoops you up into his arms, carrying you to the bedroom to claim you again. this time, the energy is different. jongin’s more secure, more confident—more him. he moves with a free, fluid intensity, his hands are possessive as they slide under your thighs to pull you closer, his lips claiming your neck. there’s no more hesitation when jongin drives into you with a purposeful heat, his mouth never leaving yours, making sure you feel him completely.

after your second orgasm, and by the time you finally collapse into the pillows, you two are a tangled mess of limbs and damp sheets. what he planned doesn’t matter anymore because what he has with you now is better. jongin peppers your face with sloppy, exhausted kisses, his fingers tracing lazy patterns over your heart.

“i love you so much,” he murmurs with a tired smile, pulling the duvet over both of you. “i’d never let you go, angel. never, never, never,” he repeats while his nose buries in your hair, squeezing your body with so much love that every part of you melts.

☆ — sehun

he starts the night with a restless, cocky energy. sehun’s a bit clumsy at first, knocking over a glass or fumbling with his phone, but he covers it with a smirk that says he’s doing it on purpose just to keep you off balance. he simply slides in, his long limbs tangling with yours until there’s no air left between you.

“you’re staring,” he murmurs, his voice a low, melodic tease. “do you like me?” oh, he loves to see you flush, so before you could say anything, he’s kissing you—deep, possessive. his hands are restless, playing with the hem of your blouse, his fingers grazing the skin of your stomach just enough to make you shiver. he waits until he sees that specific look in your gaze that gives him the green light to keep going.

sehun loves the power shift. he pulls back just long enough to shrug off his shirt, his broad shoulders and lean muscle catching the dim light, before he starts on yours. in a few seconds, the make-out session turns messy and frantic, a collision of lips and teeth that neither of you can—or want to—control. 

when you reach the bed, and his cock is incredibly hard, he holds you closer, spreading your legs to finally slide into you. the last of his composure shatters; sehun loses it completely, a ragged, heavy breath escaping him as he anchors himself inside you. he holds you so close it feels like he’s trying to pull you under his skin, his mouth finding yours again in a feverish exchange of tongues and breathless whimpers.

“god, you’re so… so fucking tight,” he wheezes, his forehead dropping against yours. he moves slowly at first, making sure you’re adjusted to him, but the second he feels your hips bucking to accelerate the pace, he matches your energy with a sharp, cocky grin.

sehun immediately takes the lead, his rhythm becoming rapid and relentless as your bodies find a pace made only for the two of you. you’re reaching for him, your fingers digging into his back, and just as the tension reaches a breaking point, he catches you off guard. with a sudden, powerful surge of strength, he rolls you over in the middle of the bed so you’re on top now.

he groans as you settle over him, his large hands immediately coming up to cup your ass and mold to your curves, pulling you down for another deep, soul-searing kiss. he wants to see the look on your face when you break, his thumbs tracing your lips while he watches you reach your orgasm. but he isn’t any better—his whole body tense, burying his fingers on your skin, trembling in desperation.

after you both shatter, neither of you wants to move; the exhaustion is a warm, weighted blanket. he stays there for a long moment, inside, simply breathing you in, before he finally finds the energy to move.

of course, he loves to tease you a bit. and he loves even more that you feel too comfortable by his side, he doesn’t have to act like anyone else to finally claim you.

sehun cleans you up with a surprising, quiet tenderness as he pulls you back into his arms to warm you. he can’t help but whisper one last flirtatious comment into your ear. “don’t get too comfortable,” he murmurs with a cocky smile. “i have a feeling i’m gonna want a rematch in about a minute.”

“You like that, hmm?” Baekhyun groaned, the sound a slow, husky purr near your ear.

His hand pressed the back of your head firmly into the mattress. You lay belly-down, hips lifted and exposed, as he drove into you from behind, his cock fully stretched and pumping deep inside your cunt.

You were upstairs, in his old room, escaping from the family dinner.

You tried to form a simple word, but you knew any sound would immediately dissolve into a desperate moan. Baekhyun felt utterly magnificent inside you; each thrust filled you so completely that your eyes almost rolled back with the sheer pleasure. And then, you hummed a soft, needy reply, and a tiny, involuntary cry slipped from your lips, causing him to instantly grin.

“Want them to hear you, love?” Baekhyun murmured, his teeth gently nuzzling your earlobe. “Let’s make sure they hear exactly how good I’m fucking you.”

He immediately slammed into you with a power that stole your breath. Your moan was muffled instantly by the cushion, and you fiercely bit the inside of your cheek, forcing yourself to stay silent.

“Baek—no…” you pleaded, the word thin and strained. Your cheek squashed against the bedding, your eyes squeezed shut as you felt him pumping his cock deeper, harder, and faster.

“You know,” Baekhyun whispered against your naked spine, his breath hot, “it was a damn good idea to fake that headache, babe.”

Even though Baekhyun had teased you about letting them hear, the sudden, sharp knock at the door immediately silenced him. His playful demeanor changed, and his gaze darkened. He instantly clamped his hand over your mouth, his palm warm and firm against your lips, demanding your absolute silence.

Your back arched involuntarily from the sudden, intense panic, burying your hand in the mattress to keep your balance. Baekhyun never broke his rhythm, continuing to thrust deep inside you, slowly, intoxicating.

Then you heard the voice—his aunt’s, muffled but unmistakable—on the other side of the door. “Honey, everything alright in there? Did your girl feel any better?” she asked, sounding genuinely concerned.

Without missing a beat, Baekhyun answered with shocking, easy normalcy, his voice totally smooth and steady. “Yes, auntie. She just finally fell asleep.” Baekhyun lied effortlessly, like he wasn’t pinning you to his old bed, making you feel his dick hitting your g-spot.

“Okay, Baek. Good night.” 

The sheer terror of being caught, combined with the sudden, intimate danger of the moment, caused a powerful reaction you couldn’t control. You clenched around his cock with a desperate, crushing strength, and the sudden, overwhelming sensation catapulted you into climax. Even as waves of ecstasy washed over you, he kept thrusting, burying himself inside your contracting body until her footsteps finally faded down the hall.

“Baek—” you moaned, your words muffled against his fingers. You spasmed violently over his body, your whole frame trembling and twisting, utterly focused on remaining silent behind his hand. 

“Fuck, baby—” he groaned. “So perfect... so tight.”

Baekhyun finally freed your mouth. Now, he pulled your hair with both hands, forcing your back to arch so dramatically that your spine reached his chest. With every powerful thrust, your vision blurred, your legs trembled, overwhelmed by the mix of arousal and sheer exhaustion. You pressed your lips tight, fighting desperately not to make a sound, but your head was spinning wildly.

Baekhyun’s cock was throbbing inside, sending an exquisite, demanding torment directly to your core. His hips collided with your ass until he finally milked you, a heavy, complete orgasm that you felt flood deep inside your contracting body. 

“Good girl,” Baekhyun purred closer to your ear, the triumph evident in his voice. “You fucking drain me, love.”

Kyungsoo loved the way your eyes twinkled when you smiled, and the way you reflexively looked away whenever a laugh took over. He watched you from a distance, a soft smile tugging at his lips, entirely unaware that you had already caught his gaze.

“Soo!” you shouted over the thrumming bass. “C’mere.”

The trance snapped. Kyungsoo began to weave through the dense crowd, but the sight ahead brought him to a dead halt. A tall man stood by your side, his arm coiled possessively around your waist as he leaned in to murmur something against your ear. Even though the music was loud, he noticed it—that stranger was clearly flirting with you.

Kyungsoo cursed himself. He only stepped away to grab drinks, never expecting someone to move in so quickly—certainly not someone who could make you laugh that specific way, or make you scrunch your nose in the expression he adored. A surge of protectiveness flared in his chest, a fleeting urge to swing at the stranger, maybe from jealousy, but he suppressed it. After all… he was just your best friend—and the one who fucked with you when you feel needy.

The next thing he saw was the two of you making out right in front of him. Sehun—as you called him—made Kyungsoo feel nauseously jealous.

He didn’t bother saying goodbye. He simply set the glasses down on the nearest table and vanished, unable to endure the torture for another second.

Kyungsoo groaned. The persistent knocks at the front door made him wake up in the middle of the night, disoriented from the drinks he had drunk before going to bed. He stumbled out of his room to answer it, just wearing his pair of boxers. You were there on the threshold—giggling, tipsy, and clinging to him the moment the door swung open.

He hated his own weakness, but god… he really loved the way you sought out his lips. He was obsessed with the way your long nails scraped across his torso.

“Soo,” you whimpered. “Please, hmm?”

“Fuck.” More at his own lack of resolve.

Your clothes ended up on the floor, in a trail from the living room to his bedroom. Leading the way, his mouth was everywhere—along your jaw, your neck, and your collarbone—claiming every inch with a desperate precision that drove you crazy.

When you were in bed, there was no slow path. Kyungsoo was starving for you, and you certainly loved the way he sucked the sensitivity of your skin. He wanted to leave marks, to brand you so deeply that no one else would dare look at you the way he had.

He knew what was coming—the way you rode with a relentless rhythm that made his head hit the headboard. You moved with a desperate urgency, squeezing him so tightly that he had both hands buried in your hips. Kyungsoo’s pulse thundered in his ears as he pulled you beneath him, his fingers tangling in your hair with a possessive grip he usually tried to hide, kissing you messily.

When he finally filled you with his hot seed, the sensation made your back arch and

dug your nails into his shoulders. Moaning, your nails scratched sharp lines down his torso, but he only pushed deeper, losing himself, groaning.

You shattered, your body trembling under the weight of an orgasm that left you breathless, you didn’t let him go. Your eyes found him, hungrily, panting against his lips, asking for more.

Kyungsoo was weak for you, always had been. He couldn’t resist those eyes that begged for him; he couldn’t say no to you.

“He was such an asshole,” you murmured, pulling his forearm over your waist, tucking yourself against the curve of his body. “Can’t you believe he didn’t even wanna pay for the drinks?”

Kyungsoo feigned exhaustion, letting out a long yawn to mask the way his heart felt every time you talked about someone else. He buried his nose in your hair, breathing you in. “Is that so?”

“He didn’t even pay for his own,” you huffed.

He had to bite his tongue to prevent a laugh from escaping. At least, that tall man won’t be a threat anymore. “Wow, that’s… pathetic.”

“Right?” You shifted slowly, turning in the circle of his arms until you were facing him. You pressed a lingering kiss to his jaw, your lips curving into a soft, secret smile when he finally opened his eyes. “At least I’m exactly where I wanted to be.”

Kyungsoo felt his heart skip a beat. “H-here?”

You nodded. “I like you, Soo.”

The world seemed to stop for him. Kyungsoo hovered on the question, wondering if he was dreaming or… if the drinks were playing tricks on him. But before he could find his voice, you giggled softly and rolled away, falling into a heavy sleep seconds later—the sheer exhaustion of two rounds finally claiming you.

Sleep was almost impossible for Kyungsoo. He lay there in the dark, staring at the ceiling as your steady breathing filled his room. You had never said that before. Had he misinterpreted the weight behind them? Did you like him as a friend or as… something more? He sighed, pulling you back into his arms as if your dreams might hold the answers he was too afraid to ask. Eventually, he drifted off, clinging to the desperate hope that you might repeat those words in the morning.

When he finally woke, the bed felt so cold it was hard to believe anyone else had been there at all. Frustration surged through him as he shifted. It wasn’t the first time you had slipped away before sunrise, and it certainly wasn't the first time you had left a gift on his nightstand.

He picked up the small scrap of paper. “Forgot to tell you: you were amazing last night. I’ll call you later, Soo! ILY <3.” A vibrant mark of your lipstick adorned the corner.

Kyungsoo traced the red tint with his thumb, eventually pressing the paper against his own lips. He closed his eyes, let out a shaky breath, and felt it—that familiar, painful stir of desire as the memory of your touch rushed back to haunt him. He was hard on just the thought of you.

Chanyeol’s living room was thick with the scent of beer and cheap snacks. Kyungsoo sat slumped on the sofa, half-listening to the overlapping stories of his friends, his mind drifting back.

“I’m telling you, Kyungsoo, you’re too tense,” Baekhyun laughed, waving a half-empty bottle in the air. “Drink up.”

Kyungsoo took a sip of his own beer and leaned his head back, closing his eyes. “I’m fine. Just tired.”

Suddenly, a rhythmic vibration rattled the wooden kitchen table behind them. A screen lit up, cutting through the dim light of the apartment.

“Hey, your phone is—,” Jongin noted, leaning over from the counter to squint at the display. A slow, knowing grin spread across his face. “Oh. It’s her.”

The change in Kyungsoo was instantaneous. He practically lunged from the sofa, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs.

“C’mon, man!” Chanyeol intercepted him, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. “Don’t do it. We talked about this, remember? You said you were gonna give it a rest. Let her wonder where you are for once.”

“Shut up,” Kyungsoo muttered, his eyes locked on the glowing device.

“Hey, he’s right,” Baekhyun added. “She only calls when she’s lonely. Stay here, man. Finish the drink. Call her later.”

The phone stopped ringing. For a heartbeat, silence reclaimed the room. Then, it started again. Kyungsoo didn’t hesitate this time. He shoved past Chanyeol’s arm and snatched the phone off the table, his thumb sliding across the glass before his friends could utter another warning.

He stepped into the quiet of the hallway, pressing the phone to his ear.

“Hello?” he breathed, his voice betraying every ounce of the resolve he had tried to build.

“Soo…” Your voice came through the line, low and honey-thick with need. He could practically hear the pout in your lips. “I’m in bed. It’s so empty. Please… I need you here, mh? Shit—I miss you.”

The second he heard you moan, the beer, the warnings, the frustration, the lecture from his friends—it all evaporated, replaced by a singular, driving heat.

“Where are you?” he asked, already reaching for his jacket hanging by the door.

“My place,” you whimpered. The sound sent a jolt of electricity straight to his gut. “Soo...”

“I’m coming,” he confirmed. “Don’t… move. I’ll be there in ten.”

Kyungsoo didn’t even look back at the living room. He heard Jongin sigh and Chanyeol call out his name in protest, but Kyungsoo was already out the door, the cool night air hitting his face as he hailed the first taxi. He knew they were right—he knew he was being weak—but the thought of you waiting, calling for him, wanting him, was the only thing that mattered.

He was going to treat you exactly the way you asked, even if it broke him.

“I’m busy, Soo.” The background noise suggested a loud street.

“I just wanted to see if… if you were free for dinner. Just... food?”

“Dinner? Like a date?” A small, sharp laugh came through the speaker. “Soo, I’ve got plans tonight. Maybe I’ll call you later… y’know, if I’m bored, okay? Bye."

The line went dead before he could even breathe out a response.

Kyungsoo groaned, dropping his head into his hands. He was thinking too much—he knew he was. He was losing his mind, trapped in the orbit of someone who only wanted him when the sun was down and the pride was tucked away.

“Hey, let’s grab another round in the kitchen!” Chanyeol urged, his voice a little too loud, a little too forced.

“Another round?” Kyungsoo frowned, sensing the deflection. “I told you I don’t wanna drink tonight.” He turned his head, his gaze cutting through the crowded room until it landed on the one person he had been trying to erase from his mind.

You weren’t alone. You were tucked into a corner with a man he didn’t recognize, your bodies nearly fused together. You were laughing, that melodic sound he loved. He watched, paralyzed, as the man’s hand slid to the small of your back, pulling you even closer.

Kyungsoo felt sick. “I need some air,” he simply said before leading to the terrace.

The night was cold, but it did nothing to cool the fire in his blood. He fumbled a cigarette from his pocket, and the flame of his lighter was unsteadily in the breeze. Kyungsoo took one drag, hoping the nicotine would act as a bandage for the raw ache in his chest, but he couldn’t even bring himself to smoke. He just leaned against the railing, staring at the rest of the city.

Kyungsoo was so lost in his own head that he didn’t hear the door slide down. He didn’t even notice a presence until a pair of slender fingers reached out and snatched the cigarette right from his hand.

Kyungsoo blinked, his heart skipping a beat as he looked up. It wasn’t a hallucination. You were standing there, looking ethereal in the moonlight, leaning your back against the rail as you took a slow drag of his cigarette. You exhaled a plume of smoke, your lips curving into that smile, those irresistible eyes locking onto his.

“What’s weighing on that head tonight, Soo?”

Kyungsoo let out a long, shaky breath, staring out at the city lights. “I’m just tired,” he lied. “I’ve had a long week. That’s all.”

You stepped closer, the scent of your perfume mingling with the fading smoke of the cigarette. Your warm fingers grazed his jaw before settling against his cold cheek. “You’re a bad liar.” Your thumb traced the line of his lower lip. “You haven’t drunk at all. And looking at this cigarette won’t answer anything. Talk to me, Soo.”

How do you know he didn’t drink tonight? Again, you were messing with his head again.

Kyungsoo flinched by your touch, stepping back until his spine hit the cold stone of the terrace wall. He needed distance; he needed to breathe without your scent filling his lungs. “Don’t.” His voice cracked. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Don’t act like you care what’s in my head when you spent the last hour glued to someone else.”

You tilted your head, a smile ghosted on your lips with an unreadable expression, but you didn’t back away. “Is that so? You’re jealous?”

“Jealous?” Kyungsoo let out a bitter laugh that felt more like a sob. “Maybe I am. But I’m also exhausted from the way you run to me when you’re lonely and then treat me like a stranger. I’m exhausted from waiting for a call that only comes when you’re bored or needy. I’m—” He looked at you then, his eyes raw with pain he couldn’t hide anymore. “I’m tired.”

“Soo…”

Kyungsoo held his breath, terrified of what you would say next, but even more terrified that you wouldn’t say anything at all.

You let the half-finished cigarette slip from your fingers before you lunged forward, kissing him. You wrapped your arms around his neck, hugging him so tightly that the air left his lungs. Kyungsoo stood frozen, his hands hovering mid-air, and then… he crumbled.

Your fingers buried deep into the soft hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer. Kyungsoo’s hands settled firmly on your waist, his grip possessive yet trembling slightly, as if he were afraid that if he squeezed too hard, he’d wake up from a dream.

“My place, hmm?” he murmured, his voice dropping into that low, velvet register that always made your pulse skip.

A slow, genuine smile spread across your face. “I thought you’d never ask, Soo.”

Kyungsoo’s knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel, his breath hitching every time your lips brushed his jaw. The tension increased to the limit when you were practically crawling toward him. Kyungsoo barely managed to park his car and killed the engine in a dark alley.

You didn’t make it to his place.

He pulled you across the console. You scrambled over to sit straddled atop him in the cramped driver’s seat. The space was tight, but it only made the friction much better. You began moving your hips in a slow, torturous grind back and forth against his thigh, your hands fumbling with the button of his pants.

Kyungsoo let out a low groan as he felt your fingers slip beneath the waistband of his underwear. His own hands were gripping your waist before sliding down to catch your ass cheeks.

You wrapped your fingers around his hard cock, jerking him off. “Soo,” you moaned against his mouth, yet moved your hips over his thigh. “I need you. Shit—I’m yours.”

Kyungsoo felt his own body betray him; he was about to cum right there in the front seat. “Fuck—I’ve wanted this so much.”

The make-out session was messy—teeth clashing and tongues tangling. The windows already began to fog from the heat radiating off your bodies. Kyungsoo’s breath hitched as his warm palms slid up the silk of your dress, his fingers bunching the fabric around your hips. When his skin met yours, and he realized there was no lace in the way, he let out a low, shaky groan.

“You’re not wearing anything,” he rasped, his voice dropping into a rough register. “Did you know—” he had trouble breathing properly, “I-I was gonna… shit—fuck you here tonight?”

You let out a half-giggle, half-chuckle and leaned in to nip at this earlobe. “Maybe,” you breathed near his ear. “I wanted to feel you against me all night, Soo.”

Your mouth pressed an open-mouth kiss against the curve of his neck, sucking directly, giving him a fresh mark as your thumb circled the tip of his cock. “Without anything in the way.”

“Fuck—” he breathed, his eyes fluttering shut as he gripped your ass cheeks even tighter, pulling you down hard against his lap.

Kyungsoo ended up cumming through your finger. The hot sticky sperm made every stroke messier, sloppier. His head fell back against the headrest, his thighs were trembling, his whole body tensed, groaning in an intense pleasure he only felt when he was with you.

A soft chuckle left your mouth. “Keep going, Soo.” Your tongue traced a path from his neck to his jaw, and then to his lower lip, which you sucked into your mouth. “Lemme treat you right. Like you deserve.”

“Baby—”

“Shhh.” You moved your hips in a slow, torturous grind that made him hiss. He could feel the warmth of your cunt against his thigh, almost dripping. “Shit… should I cum too?”

You slowly slid your sticky, cum-coated fingers into your own mouth, cleaning them with an eye-locking gaze, letting them pull out with a pop sound. Kyungsoo’s mouth fell open, a choked sound dying in his throat. He looked stunned, his arousal surging back immediately. He reached down, gathering the slick heat from his length onto his fingers, trembling. He pressed them against your lips, sliding them into your mouth with a desperate urgency.

“Mmh…” you hummed in response, soaking wet between your folds.

“Fuck—you’re so bad for me.”

You swallowed, your eyes never leaving his, curving your lips after pulling his fingers out. “Am I?”

“That’s why I like you so much.”

Kyungsoo finally guided you down. When he thrusted into you, the slick, messy friction of his own spent cock and the wetness of your cunt acting as a lubricant, he let out a sound that was less of a moan and more of a pained, desperate growl, making you moan too.

“Fuck,” Kyungsoo groaned, his hands flying to your waist, his fingers digging into your skin. “You feel so tight—so fucking perfect.”

He was incredibly hard again, his cock pulsing inside you as your tight, wet walls clenched desperately around him.

You threw your head back, your nails clawing into his shoulders as a loud, uninhibited moan ripped from your chest. “Ah—Soo!”

“F-fuck,” he choked out, his hands flying to your bare waist, his thumbs digging ruthlessly into your hips to anchor you.

Kyungsoo didn’t waste a second. He arched his back and thrust upward, hard and unapologetic, his hips slamming into yours with a wet, heavy slap. He picked up a frantic, punishing rhythm, his hips hitting yours so hard the car rocked on its suspension.

“Is that what you wanted? For me to fuck you raw like this?”

“Yes!” you whimpered, your teeth sinking into his lower lip, dragging against the sensitive skin until you tasted a hint of blood. You rolled your hips back, meeting every heavy, upward strike with a desperate grind of your own. “Oh—harder, Soo!”

His hands slid down from your waist, his fingers digging deep into the soft flesh of your bare ass cheeks, squeezing and massaging the skin like stress balls as he drove into you. “No one else gets to hear you make these noises, huh? You’re fucking mine.”

“Yours—fuck!” you cried out, your voice breaking as the heavy, wet friction pushed you right to the jagged edge. You arched your spine, your internal muscles clenching around him so violently it nearly derailed his rhythm. “Soo, please—right there!”

Kyungsoo let out a low, primal roar, his veins popping in his neck as he gave in to the chase. He picked up the pace, his thrusts becoming fast, messy, and relentlessly deep, burying himself to the hilt over and over again.

You screamed his name into his neck, your body locking up as a blinding, toe-curling orgasm ripped through you. Kyungsoo’s hips bucked one final time upward as he came violently inside you, his loud, guttural shout filling the fogged-up car. He pulled you flush against his chest, his arms wrapping around your sweat-slicked back, both of you completely breathless, sticky, and ruined in the dark.

That night, Kyungsoo knew he could never escape from you.

He didn’t want to, though.

☆ — junmyeon

gently and slowly at first—his lips finding your inner thighs before his tongue makes contact with your slit. his breath is already ragged at the first touch, like he really wants everything at once.

“so beautiful, so soft.” junmyeon’s praises are endless… until he’s making out with your cunt. his hands slide down your legs, resting them on his shoulders, sinking deeper between your thighs.

junmyeon definitely doesn’t want to hide how lost he is in you and your taste. moans escape his lips as he laps you up like a hungry animal, burying his nose in your clit just before parting your folds with his own fingers, letting his tongue explore your entire slit.

junmyeon won’t stop you. he loves it when your hips sway over his mouth, or when your hands can’t help but grip—or pull—his hair, yes… especially when your thighs press against his face as he’s assaulting your clit—trapping it between his lips, sucking, and moving his tongue in a madness circled rhythm—all to give you pleasure.

he’s obsessed with those little moans and how your body starts to lose control just before reaching its limit—shaking, gasping for breath. rest assured, junmyeon won’t stop until you cum for him, and when it happens, he’ll make sure to drink every drop as if it were the most delicious elixir he’s ever tasted, licking and sucking every drop.

as if that weren’t enough, he continued kissing your thighs, your sensitive bud, until he reached your abdomen on a gentle, slow trail of wet kisses. he looks up at you, his face is flushed, his lips swollen, and that knowing smile tells you everything: he’s completely obsessed with the way he just made you break.

☆ — minseok

sloooow burn. minseok approaches you with a steady, burning intent that makes your skin prickle before he even touches you. he takes his time, his mouth trailing downward in a path of fire. he leaves a map of darkening marks along your waist and across the soft skin of your belly, his teeth grazing you just enough to leave a reminder.

minseok hooks his fingers into the lace of your panties, pulling them down, slowly, pressing his lips against your inner legs with soft kisses. he observes, loving the way your lips part as you wait for him.

minseok grant it—starting with soft, delicate kitty licks along your folds. the first contact of his tongue is light, teasing, and maddeningly brief, sending a fresh wave of tremors through your entire body.

as minseok hears those broken whimpers escape you, his composure finally starts to fray. he sinks deeper, his hands sliding under your hips to lift you toward him. he buries his face in your cunt, his tongue shifting from those light, teasing touches to a broad, firm lap that claims you entirely. yes, he lets you guide him because his mouth becomes a frantic, hungry thing as he sucks and swirls with a rhythm that pushes you right to the edge.

“my sweet girl.” his voice is a low, gravelly vibration between your thighs, letting you shatter.

after cleaning you, minseok will work his way back up in a slow trail of wet, messy kisses to your lips, murmuring how much he loves you. of course, he doesn’t pull away at any moment; he stays there, holding you close, more romantic, more clingy than before.

☆ — yixing

he knows your body better than you do, his hands mapping out your skin—slow, his lips ghosting over your breast, your abdomen. there’s a raw, unraveled edge to his breathing that tells you his restraint is paper-thin.

“i know how you like to be touched, babe,” he raps against your skin. “don’t hide it.”

yixing takes off the rest of your clothes with a steady hand, his eyes never leaving yours, loving the way you whimper under him. he leaves a trail of deep marks along your body, especially along your inner thighs.

oh, and when yixing finally met your pussy, he’s obsessed. he gives you those firm licks, watching with a predatory satisfaction as you begin to tremble. he knows that specific tremor is the signal that he’s already won.

he buries his face between your thighs, his hands sliding down to grip your legs and hike them over his shoulders. he sinks deep, his tongue lapping you with a hungry madness. yixing’s a man unraveled. he loves a little too much when your body shivers as his mouth plays with your clit.

“lemme see how much you can take, love.” his fingers part you wide, exposing every sensitive inch to his relentless tongue, and then, he slides two of his fingers inside your cunt.

his fingers and mouth will work hard enough to make you a moaning mess, lacking control of your own body. he knows you want more, so he traps your clit between his lips, sucking with a merciless intensity that makes your vision blur. his fingers push you further than you thought you could go, dragging out the pleasure until you’re gasping, your thighs crushing against his face as you finally reach your limit.

when you cum, yixing cleans you with his own mouth, drinking you in like a thirsty man, his tongue making sure to savor every drop. he knows you’re sensitive; your whimpers confirm it when he pulls his fingers out, immediately finding your mouth to make you taste yourself on his lips.

“you were perfect,” he whispers, his lips curving in a smile and his thumb tracing the curve of your hip.

☆ — baekhyun

he’s sharp, playful, but incredibly possessive. baekhyun doesn’t need to guess; he knows exactly where you’re at, and he’s going to use that to make you lose your mind.

his hands are moving over you with a confidence that says he knows you too well. he skips the formalities, his mouth meeting yours in a deep, wet collision before he breaks away to leave a trail of damp, marking kisses all over your throat and chest.

“you’re already so whiny for me, huh?” he chuckles.

baekhyun loves the chase. he strips you with hunger, his eyes dark. he doesn’t dive in immediately; instead, he changes his tactic to maximize the torture. while his mouth marks your inner thighs with bruising kisses and the occasional sharp nip of his teeth, his thumb finds your clit. he rubs it in a relentless, agonizingly perfect circle, watching you unravel under his hand.

“you like that? or… you want my mouth there instead?”

baekhyun buries his face between your thighs, his tongue a total takeover. his hands reach up to guide your own fingers into his hair, forcing you to hold him there while he works. yes, he’s hungry. he laps you up with broad, wet strokes, his nose grinding against you while he talks dirty against your skin, moaning softly.

baekhyun loves it when your hips buck and sway against his face, trying to find more of him. he traps you there, his tongue moving relentlessly. “cum for me, babe,” he murmurs against your wet skin.

baekhyun drinks you in as you shatter, his tongue lapping you up until the very last tremor leaves your body. then, with a cocky smile, he pulls back just enough to lick his sticky thumb, his eyes locked on yours the whole time. he chuckles before trailing wet, sloppy kisses back up your body, claiming your lips in a messy, breathless kiss, smirking in between, his hands already sliding back down to your hips.

☆ — jongdae

jongdae approaches you with a reverence that feels almost holy. he takes his time, his eyes crinkling with that soft smile. he starts by mapping your inner thighs with slow, lingering kisses, his voice a low, melodic hum of praise against your skin.

“you’re so perfect, you know that?” his breath is hot and damp against your body.

jongdae eats you out at his own agonizing pace. his tongue is soft but carries a desperate, underlying hunger—as if he’s trying to memorize the exact shape and texture of your slit with every stroke. he moves with a rhythmic precision, his mouth wide and warm as he claims you.

of course, he never has enough. jongdae groans softly against your wet skin, a deep, vibration-filled sound that tells you exactly how much he’s enjoying your taste. to double the sensation, he finds your clit with his thumb, rubbing it in a slow circle that matches the movement of his tongue.

“that’s it, love.” he watches the way your fingers dig into the sheets, his eyes never leaving the way your body reacts to him.

when you arch your back or let out a broken moan, jongdae responds with a deeper, more urgent lap of his tongue. he’s like a man starving for a very specific elixir, drinking you in until you’re shaking and pleading for the end. he won’t let you reach the peak alone; he stays right there, his thumb and tongue working in perfect sync until the very last tremor fades.

☆ — chanyeol

he’s a storm of affection before the clothes even hit the floor. chanyeol is all touch—hands roaming, lips constantly finding yours, his deep voice vibrating against your skin in a stream of breathless praises.

when his mouth finally meets your pussy, chanyeol doesn’t just stay there, groaning. his hands are everywhere, possessed by a restless need to map out every bit of your skin. one second, he’s gripping your thighs to pull you closer; the next, his large palms are molding to your ribs or cupping your breasts. his ragged breath is so hot that you could feel him moving through your slit, catching your clit in his lips, sucking so hard that your body instinctively curves toward him, your back arching off the sheets.

he’s addicted to your taste. chanyeol finds your mouth again in a sudden, surprise kiss, moaning at your favor as his tongue tangles with yours. you’re lost in the heat of his kiss that the graze of his fingers against your folds sent a jolt through your spine, making you jump.

before you can even catch your breath, he’s sliding two long fingers inside of you. he stretches you out with a smooth, rhythmic confidence, and then, he breaks the kiss just to dive back down, feeling the wet, heavy slide of his tongue against your clit.

“so fucking delicious.” that deep rumble vibrates against your cunt.

his tongue works with no stop, circling, while his fingers continue to drive into you, filling you until you’re a sobbing, shaking mess. of course chanyeol doesn’t pull away when you break. he keeps torturing you with his fingers inside, feeling every internal pulse of your orgasm, his tongue catching every drop of your pleasure. he stays until you’re limp and breathless, his face eventually flushed, lips swollen, and a triumphant grin.  

☆ — kyungsoo

kyungsoo is a quiet storm between your thighs. his breath is ghosting over your sensitive skin, his chest heaving with a secure, practiced confidence. oh… and he claims for sure. he buries his face in your pussy with a sudden, firm intent that leaves you gasping.

he’s instantly obsessed with your taste. kyungsoo sucks you so hard that your hips begin to move against him in an uncoordinated rhythm. you’re practically vibrating under the pressure of his mouth, your body trying to find a way to escape the intensity and sink deeper into it all at once.

his hands move to your hips, his fingers digging in with a possessive strength that holds you perfectly still. he isn’t going to let you go that easily. as your fingers find his hair, fisting in the strands in a desperate attempt to ground yourself, he only pushes harder.

his tongue is hungry, exploring every hidden inch of your cunt. he pushes deep, broad, and firm, mapping out your heat with a methodical pace that feels like it’s reaching into your very soul. he breathes heavily against your cunt, the hot air fanning over your clit and sending fresh jolts of lightning through your nerves.

you feel your body betraying you—losing all sense of pride or restraint—as you begin to bed. kyungsoo loves the sound of your undoing. he responds by trapping your clit between his lips, and then his tongue moves in that maddening rhythm while his nose grinds against you.

kyungsoo doesn’t flinch when your orgasm hits, violent and all consuming. he holds you through the shaking, drinking you, savoring every drop, lazily cleaning you up with a slow, possessive worship.

☆ — jongin

jongin is all hands and heat from the start. he craves to feel the way you react to every inch of him. he starts by rubbing your folds with a slow, heavy pressure, his thumb circling your clit while he leans up to claim your lips in a deep kiss. he explores your cunt with a quiet intensity, his breath hitching as he realizes how wet you are for him.

with a sudden intent, jongin inserts two of his long fingers inside you. he doesn’t just push, he slides them in with a rhythmic, confident grace that makes you back arch off the sheets. as he finds his pace, his lips begin their slow agonizing descent down your body—past your breasts, over your stomach—until he finally meets your pussy.

his hungry, plump lips tell you everything—how much he’s been starving for this, how much he’s been fighting the urge to just lose it. he sucks and laps you up with a frantic, wet energy, his tongue broad and firm as he really claims you. his fingers work in perfect sync with his mouth, driving into you with a steady, deep friction that leaves you whimpering his name.

“god, you’re so beautiful,” he rasps against your wet folds, his voice vibrating.

he loses all his control as he hikes your legs up, holding them steady over his shoulders so he can bury himself against you. jongin is like an animal, his nose grinding against your clit while his tongue and fingers move in a madness-driven rhythm. he’s relentless, his ragged breaths fanning over your sensitive heat, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

he waits for your release like a predator, his hand digging into your thighs to keep you grounded. when you finally shatter, jongin doesn’t pull back. he cleans every single drop of your pleasure as if it were the most precious thing he’s ever tasted. he’s physically incapable of leaving your folds; even as the tremors of your orgasm rack your body—and his hands—his tongue continues its worship, his fingers stay buried deep inside you, feeling your walls clenching around him.

☆ — sehun

sehun doesn’t ask too much. there’s a sudden shift in his mood before he drags you into his space. he surely doesn’t care if you’re dressing up or something; if he wants you, he takes you. he holds you steady with a grip that is firm and unapologetically possessive, his large hands anchoring your hips as if to remind you exactly who you belong to,

“don’t move, babe,” his voice dropping into that slow, dangerous register, like commanding.

sehun starts by leaving a trail of dark, deep marks along your inner thighs—bruises and nips that he knows only he will see later. he loves the idea of your skin carrying his signature. when he finally moves to eat you out, he’s a messy, dirty eater in the best possible way. there’s no restraint; he’s all wet heat and broad, sliding tongue, his mouth wide as he devours you.

sehun is completely addicted to the way you taste. he doesn’t just lap at you; he buries his face against your folds, making out with them, his nose grinding against your clit while he lets out low, guttural moans that vibrate directly into your sensitive skin. he wants you to feel his hunger, to hear how much you’re unraveling him.

“shit… you’re so wet for me.” he pulls back just enough to see the mess he’s making before diving back in.

raw and relentless, he uses his tongue with a frantic energy, pushing deep into your folds and sucking on your clit until your legs are shaking and your voice is a broken string of whimpers. he loves the friction, the way your body bucks back against his mouth for more.

of course sehun will drink every drop of your release. he’s messy, his face flushed and wet when he finally looks up at you. he licks his lips slowly, a cocky smirk playing on his mouth as he leans in to kiss you.