Makail

Eunchae raises a brow, only slightly amused. She tries her best to not say she warned you, but it slips out anyway. “It’s Sunghoon, babe. What’d you expect from such a…hot-blooded Alpha?”

“He was different! Not that bad! Or Evil!!” You muffle your scream with your sleeve, then lift your head to stare at your best friends with puffy eyes.

The bar doesn’t lose its vibrancy: the bartender doesn’t acknowledge your half hearted attempts at convincing your friends and nosy patrons (by proximity), and the music still plays on. You cry a little harder when a song Sunghoon had on his ‘my life’s a movie fr’ playlist coincidentally blares through the speakers.

Eunchae stifles a groan. “Get a grip, bitch. He’s evil. And dumb. Or evil, because he’s dumb—I don’t fucking know.” Her eyes bulge a little as she leans across Jisoo toward you. Naturally, you cower at the sudden wave of energetic dominance she emanates, and although you’ve been friends for years—Eunchae’s still an Alpha and you’re still an Omega.

She softens, but Jisoo lays a hand over hers before speaking.

“I know it’s frustrating… but maybe it’s a blessing in disguise?” She hesitantly starts. You look up and squeeze the shot glass between your palms, warming its surface.

“What do you mean?”

“I just think a guy who could mentally stimulate you might be a better match.”

Eunchae cackles, quickly butting in after taking a swig from her glass. “—what Jisoo’s trying to say is Sunghoon’s an actual dumbass. Like, the lights aren’t on at home. Ever.”

You pout at that. While a huge part of you wanted to defend him, you couldn’t lie. Sunghoon’s the kind of guy who looked like he walked straight of a Sports Illustrated magazine—a dream in dark blue jersey crop tops and denim low-rise jeans—but he’s an absolute himbo, and most conversations about your hobbies required…further explanation.

“Yeah, but he’s the only Alpha that’s never treated me like I’m dumb.” You say, downcast gaze watching the condensation mark your glass.

“That’s because he’s dumber than you—“

Eunchae groans once Jisoo’s sharp elbow hits her stomach, and stifles a scream.

“I know, sweetie. But if he was an actually good guy, he wouldn’t talk about planning ways to get back with his ex.” She utters gently, doe eyes glistening as she clasped a hand around yours comfortingly.

“What an asshole.” Eunchae grits out, before absentmindedly muttering “If I were you—I’d fuck his ex. Get my lick back, you know?”

You still, the gears immediately churning and straightening your back. You zone out on the array of bottled liquor, squinting as you rolled her words in your mouth.

“That’s a great idea, actually.”

Your best friends whip toward you with wide eyes. “Ayo, it was a joke—“ Eunchae squeaks, folding under the weight of Jisoo’s thinly veiled anger.

You push to your feet abruptly, palms slamming against the bar. Quickly, you smooth a hand over your perfectly glossed curled hair, steadying yourself, then swing around and toss your bag over your shoulder.

“Gotta get my beauty sleep. Big day tomorrow.” You say and vanish—leaving a trail of vanilla and brown sugar in your wake.

Eunchae and Jisoo stare at each other before Jisoo rolls her eyes with a groan. “Oh god—this is so bad.”

Heads turn at the sharp, charming click of your kitten heels against the marbled floors of the art department. After cornering Heeseung—who had originally refused to tell you anything more about Sunghoon, even after guiltily sending those screenshots from the boys’ group chat—you finally wore him down. A few well-placed crocodile tears later, he cracked.

And that’s how you end up in the fine arts building, scanning hallways for the sculpture studio. More people are staring than usual. Not because of your doe eyes and perfectly painted lipstick. But because your heat is only a few weeks away, and you deliberately didn’t take your suppressants so that Sunghoon would catch your scent all over campus—your scent is stronger than it should be.

Another scent dances into the hall the closer you get to the studio: something like yuzu tea and sunshine bottled up into a singular room. It was strong. Effortlessly enticing—Beautiful before you’d even laid your eyes on her. You knew it was her the moment you caught a whiff.

The studio is empty, save for a single silhouette standing at its center. A fitted black sweater clings to a narrow waist, dark hair cut short enough to curl softly at the nape. She’s taller than you imagined—almost as tall as Sunghoon—and the realization stings. You’d always assumed he preferred shorter partners. Most alphas, after all, gravitate toward omegas smaller than them.

Her pale hands dragged along a clay statue, molding the shape with a delicate, deliberate touch. She turns her head at the sound of your steps—

And what you see steals your breath from your throat.

Sharp, fox-like eyes run along your form—his pierced, pale pink tongue licks over the other cold metal piercing on his lips. A natural, dewy flush decorates the bridge of his nose, and his voice shocks you from your trance. Holy fuck.

That’s…not a girl. You think.

“…do you need something?” It’s soft. A little hesitant. Shy. The sound tickles your ears as you duck your head.

You stutter, clasping your small hands together, before bubbling the words out.

“I—oh god, you’re beautiful.”

His lips part slightly at that, a flush creeping down the line of his throat. The two of you lapse into a flustered silence, and he just stands there—wide-eyed, like a deer caught in headlights.

After a second, he ducks his head, peering at you shyly through his bangs. “That’s sweet of you to say—” he begins, voice even softer now, before glancing off to the side as if the wall has suddenly become fascinating. “Do you… need help with anything in the studio?”

You stare back at his face with your heart caught in your throat. It’d be easier to lie—to form a ruse just to get close enough to touch—but it didn’t feel right. Staring at him now, you’re struck with the realization of how shady this sort of ordeal would be.

“Honestly? I came here without thinking,” you admit, lifting your chin as you step closer.

You have to tilt your head back to meet his eyes—and he reddens instantly at the shortened distance. God, you’re pretty. There’s something almost doll-like about you, unsettling in its perfection. He has to bite down on the dangerous thought that you might be the prettiest girl he’s ever seen before it distracts him completely.

He waits, silent, patient.

“I—I’m Sunghoon’s girlfriend.” Your fingers tighten around your own wrist. “Or… I was.”

Something in his expression shifts. The light in his eyes dims, brows pulling together in a complicated crease. He fucking hated that guy.

“Oh.”

Oh? That’s it?

You shake your head, and anxiously turn away. “I’m sorry, this was a stupid idea—“

“W-wait.” He pipes up, grasping your wrist hesitantly. “You don’t have to leave.”

To your absolute horror, a tiny sob squeaks out of you. It’s embarrassingly small—but in the quiet studio, it might as well echo. You blink up at him with comically watery eyes, lashes clumping together as you try (and fail) to look dignified. Without thinking, you throw yourself into his arms.

“I’m sorry—I came in here with really awful intentions,” you blurt, words tumbling over each other. “I wanted to screw him over by sleeping with you. I thought you were a woman at first, and doesn’t even matter that you’re not—and he’s just so mean. He didn’t even have the decency to break up with me before planning to get you back.”

Sunoo goes completely rigid, eyes wide as he tries to process the avalanche you’ve just dumped on him. Then something sharp—almost offended—flickers in his gaze.

“I would rather get run over by my own kiln,” he says flatly, “than get back with that dumbass.”

“He always wants what he can’t have. Pretty sure his processing rate is below average.” He finalizes blandly. “Take a seat.” He slides a stool forward and gently pushes you to sit.

Sunoo leans back against a table, perching his weight on his palms as they grasped the sides.

“Listen, I don’t want him back. To be honest, I had no clue that he was even trying to reach out because he’s blocked.”

You sniffle, folding your hands on your lap anxiously. This is so embarrassing. What were you even thinking? The next time you see Eunchae, you’re going to wring her neck.

“It’s not even that. Good Alphas are hard to come by nowadays, and I thought I’d found one who actually cared about me,” you admit.

Sunoo watches you thoughtfully before replying, “I get it. Being an Omega’s no easy feat. That’s why I hate Alphas most of the time…guess I got too distracted by his washboard abs when I agreed to go out with him.” He laughs softly.

Being near him is strangely calming. The day drifts on, and you find yourself sitting on that stool for hours, talking about Sunghoon—and then about life as an Omega. You bond over your shared love for beauty and aesthetics, and he even lets you touch his eyebrow piercing while continuing to sculpt. The goodbye is silent, but warm when he drops you off at your dorms before striding off—taking the only sound of his earrings softly clinking with him.

The next day, Sunoo leans against the wall of your Socioeconomics class, quietly watching as you approach in an excited flurry.

His dark hair is styled straight, three silver piercings dangling from each ear. A fitted turtleneck hugs his lithe figure, paired with baggy, low-waisted dark jeans. When you instinctively reach for his hands, the vision of you together is a clash of black and pastel pink.

“Sunoo!” you squeal, the scent of vanilla stronger in the presence of your joy—even after taking suppressants. Gazing up at him, you hold onto his hand. “What are you doing here?”

He smiles softly, voice low, naturally tinged with melancholia. “Yesterday was fun. Stopped by to tell you you’re welcome to come to the studio whenever. Helped me pass the time.”

A genuine smile curls your lips, the sunlight catching flecks on your gloss.

“No takesie backsies.”

Hangouts at the studio steadily turned into hangouts everywhere else. Over time, you became a regular face at the fine arts department—and people took notice of how close the two of you’d gotten in a short span of time.

Friendship with Sunoo’s as easy as breathing: cute friend dates to dessert cafes, shopping for matching collars, cozy nights in with shared self-care routines, and trips to the photo booth—it fit snugly. Comfortably. He never unsettled you the way an Alpha did. Your shared love of physical touch always resulted in the two of you curling your bodies together—or walking around campus palm in palm, and pressing your temples against each other when greeting.

✿

You sit near a large banana tree plant, at the corner of the campus cafe—catching up between classes.

Heeseung sips on his iced coffee loudly, eying you suspiciously. “You’ve gotten…real close to Sunoo, lately. That’s a surprise.”

You giggle, a happy churning in your stomach at the mention of someone who was growing more special to you by the day. “Yeah—I’m surprised too, given the situation. Guess we bonded over having a shared ex rather than fighting.”

He pops open the cap of his cup and tips it back, pouring a few cubes of ice into his mouth before crunching down on them.

“Well, yeah,” he says around the cold, “but Sunoo’s so fucking grouchy all the time. He can be a real asshole. I’m honestly surprised he didn’t bite your head off the second you mentioned Sunghoon.”

Sunoo? Grouchy?

You stare at Heeseung, bewildered. “He’s so sweet and soft spoken most of the time. Not a single mean bone in his body, Hee.”

Heeseung almost spits out his ice.

“The fuck? Are we talking about the same person?”

“Pretty sure?”

“I fucking thought something was up.” He pips, face painted with delight. “He’s into you.”

“Stop it—“ You utter shyly, gaze dropping to your lap. “We’re good friends. He’d never see me like that.”

“You don’t know Kim Sunoo the way I do,” Heeseung says, voice low and a little mischievous. “He might be an omega, but he’s a total menace. The first time Riki met him, he made the guy cry with just one sentence…because he stood too close. Oh, and he also hated Riki’s designs. Brutal, right?”

“You’re not lying?” you ask, voice sweet and innocent, eyes wide. Your fingers reach to fiddle with the thin collar on your neck.

Heeseung almost coos at the sight, completely undone by how earnestly adorable you look: all pastel pink, draped in lace. “Scouts honor.” He replies, his index finger signing an invisible x over his heart.

“Wanna know a secret, though?” He whispers and leans forward, eyes glinting dangerously. Your eyes widen at the sudden dizzying scent of his pheromones—cedar, cinnamon, and black pepper.

You crane your neck towards him, nodding vigorously

“Sunoo’s a huge masochist—that’s why he has so many piercings.” He grins at you, clearly enjoying how red you’ve gone. He could practically see steam rising off you.

You bury your face in your hands and let out a muffled squeak. “Hee, what the—what the fuck?”

Heeseung reaches over to tug your pinky into his grip, holding it playfully for a moment before pausing. He glances over your shoulder, casual yet deliberate. “Incoming.”

You follow his gaze and brighten immediately.

Sunoo’s dark hair is spiked, styled just messy enough to look effortless. Silver rings gleam along his knuckles when he moves, catching the light. Your gaze drifts—slow and shameless—over the rest of him, taking in the long sleeve layered beneath a baggy graphic tee, the matching collar to yours snug around his throat. You stop yourself short of inhaling his scent deeply.

His eyes, however, are trained onto your hand in Heeseung’s.

“Shouldn’t you be in class?” He utters at the man dryly, running the ball of his tongue piercing across his teeth. He pops his gum disinterestedly.

Heeseung smiles hard enough to crease his eyes into little moons. “I’d much rather be here.”

“Of course—mommy and daddy are gonna pay your way into graduation, right?” He shoves his hands into his pockets, staring at Heeseung with an empty expression.

Your eyes flicker between them, bewildered. “Why are you guys acting so… strange?” you ask, reaching out to tug gently at Sunoo’s fingers. He softens instantly at the way you look up at him from your seat.

“I got you a slice of matcha cake,” he says, leaning down slightly to meet your eyes, ignoring Heeseung completely. “There’s a cafe I think you’d like.”

He chuckles softly when he notices the white lace parasol perched beside the table and takes in the pale pink baby doll dress you had on. “And what a cute little dress.”

You jump up to spin for him excitedly. “This is the one you picked out, remember?”

Sunoo takes your hands gently, smiling brightly. “I knew you’d look pretty in it.”

Heeseung gags silently in the corner. All he wanted was a chance to tease Sunoo, but now he’s stuck third-wheeling—and on the verge of throwing himself into mid-day traffic. Neither you nor Sunoo notice, still chatting excitedly with each other. Heeseung watches a little longer, smiling softly when he realizes the two of you look like little bunnies side by side.

Seriously—the two of you were the prettiest Omegas he’s ever known, and seeing you side by side was no joke. He stills the moment a…particular scent wafts in his direction. A fragrant haze of pink and hot, gooey vanilla drape across the cafe—turning heads in alarm at its heaviness.

His eyes flash before standing to take a step away from you.

“Sweetie, did you forget to take your suppressants?”

You pause in horror. How could you be so stupid? Your heat’s right around the corner—

With fumbling hands, you tug your phone out of your handbag and check the date.

Fuck.

It’s today.

Your heat cycle’s today and you’re seated in a crowded cafe without your pheromone suppressants.

Shakily, you glance around the room, your heart hammering as several Alphas cast uneasy glances, struggling to control their reactions to your trigger-happy scent.

You’re scared.

Really scared.

And you can’t will yourself to move. Even Heeseung’s struggling to stay neutral, a slow fever bleeding into his eyes. When his chest starts heaving, he hastily turns.

“I’m so sorry, I have to go.” His gaze is heavy with apology—but you knew it was for the best. Heeseung’s an Alpha, and a chaotic one at that. You knew he’d never endanger you willingly, no matter how most Alpha’s scared you.

Sunoo wakes you from your frightened trance.

“Come on—let’s get you out of here.” He slides a slim arm around your neck protectively, sharp eyes pointing defensively at any lingering looks.

You can’t believe you forgot one of the worst parts of breaking up with Sunghoon: having to face your heat cycle alone.

The day has arrived, and you don’t have the slightest idea how you’re going to get through it.

The hot pink corner light casts soft, intimate shadows across your room. Sunoo helps you peel off your dress, leaving you in your undergarments, and gently wipes the sweat from your skin. The heat cycle feels more like a fever the longer you’re not touched.

“Sunoo, it hurts.” You arch your back softly, hair spilling on the pillow messily, as strands stick to the sweat on your skin.

His unreadable eyes stay locked on your face as he watches you writhe for five long minutes. Then he rises, the bed creaking softly under him as he climbs on and begins to peel off his layers slowly.

Your breath catches, pink blooming across your flushed cheeks as you stare at him with glossy eyes. The soft, curved tips of your acrylic nails brush against your lips, trembling as you gaze at him in shock.

He kneels on the bed, abdomen twitching and tensing without meaning to. His pale hand reaches to nervously tug at his collar. “You can…use me. As much as you want.”

After a couple of moments of stunned silence, he squirms. Even under the pink light, the red in his cheeks seemed to glow. “I know i’m not an Alpha, but I can keep up. I can handle most things.”

The slick tacking your thighs together thickens. His flush only deepens when he hears it.

“Sun, you really don’t have to—“

“I want to.” He interrupts.

You rise to crawl towards him on all fours, peering up shyly. He sucks in a breath, slightly flinching.

The soft chime of your collars marks each small movement. His lips part as you slip your fingers inside, pressing gently against the sharp edge of an incisor.

“When I’m in heat… I like biting. And being bitten,” you admit, your voice a soft murmur. “Is that okay?”

“Do whatever you want,” he breathes. “I’ll let you know if I don’t like something.”

“You can do anything to me too,” you reply, your palms resting on the soft flesh of your thighs. The glint of his nipple piercings catches the light, almost winking in the dimness.

Everything about the moment feels strangely innocent, despite the context. The sight of his bare body, his willingness to touch you without any need to dominate, offers a comfort you never knew you needed—or were even allowed to have. Its saccharine. Warm. A clouded devotion that perfumes the air around you with something soft and tender—something Omegas like you both rarely have the privilege of knowing.

You both lean in, necks craning toward each other, breaths mingling in the narrow space between you, just a hair strand away from falling into each other.

Slick pools between your legs almost gelatinously, a soft pour trickling down your inner thigh. He sees it, and his hand rises slowly, fingers curling to cup you, stroking two fingers down the lining of your cunt. You throb at the contact, clenching as he petted the surface.

When the cold metal of his piercings press against your lips, as he slides his thin fingers in you, it settles in softly. The kiss isn’t a dramatic homecoming—it’s gentle. Quietly sacred. Reassuring in all the ways Sunoo knew how to calm the anxiety Omega’s always felt even during the high of being in heat.

Your hands find his shoulders, steadying yourself against their surprising breadth. The slow building pace he settles into physically shakes your body as he switches between driving upwards and rubbing your clit. You push deeper, licking shyly into his mouth, and gasp as he boldly pushes into yours. Your brow lifts at the feel of his tongue piercing, the smooth metal rolling against your own muscle. His left hand reaches to grip onto the meat of your hip with a strength you didn’t know he could summon.

Wet sounds fill the room—saliva strands hanging between your lips every time you pulled away just to dive back in. Your fingers lift to roll over his nipples experimentally, and sigh happily into his mouth when you hear the small moan leave him

Sunoo pulls his hand away, and you whine softly at the sudden loss of contact. When you finally break the kiss, you barely have time to steady yourself before you meet his gaze—and flinch. His eyes are intense, almost dizzying, dark irises blown wide and glossed over with something feverish. There’s a glazed heat in them, a look that makes your pulse stutter.

He pushes you onto your back, and crawls face first between your legs.

Without pause, he drags his nose up the fabric of your underwear—sucking the slick from the fabric, then pushes it aside.

A low whine escapes him as his hips roll instinctively, seeking friction against nothing. His boxers are already soaked, a dark patch spreading where his own cock strains against the fabric. You can see the throbbing length twitch as he laps at you, his tongue tracing a slow, deliberate stripe up your slit before circling your clit. The metal ball of his piercing glints in the dim light as he flicks it against the sensitive bud, alternating between rapid flicks and deep, suctioning pulls that leave his chin dripping.

Your body twitches in little spasms once it registers the feeling of his tongue piercing rolling around the sensitive bud. His tongue pumps shallowly at first, then deeper, the knob of his piercing stroking your inner walls. Your knees threaten to knock together, but his arms lock around your thighs, holding you open as he buries his face deeper, devouring you

You comb your fingers through his hair.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging gently. "Sunoo—breathe," you gasp, but he only whines against you, his eyes rolling back as he presses closer. The sound of his collar rattles softly as he shakes his head, refusing to pull away. When your legs lock around his neck, trapping him, he twitches violently, his fingers curling as he finds that spongy spot inside you that makes your vision blur.

He shakes his head side to side, collar rattling. He’s right where he wants to be.

The metal on his mouth grows warm. Your body feels like something molten—hot to the touch. D

Sunoo doesn’t notice—already lost in the fog of things, as your legs shook and hands fumbled to softly push at his head. He can’t will himself to pull his mouth away, drunk on the taste and heat of you. All he can smell is your particular scent of vanilla, and to his smug delight, traces of his own clean yuzu—erasing Heeseung’s earlier scent of cedar and cinnamon. The entangling scents calm his own anxieties: the ones that’ve been rearing their head every time he saw you with someone else. With someone bigger. Taller. More dominant.

He fucking hated Alphas.

You hide your hot face in your palms as you watch him continue to practically eat you, taking in the slender of his pale back and the small freckles peppering the surface of his shoulder blades and spine. His eyes flick up to meet yours, dark and hungry, as he widens his jaw, taking all of you in his mouth. Seeing his lips stretched around your pussy, his chin glistening with your release, sends another jolt through you.

Fisting the pillow, you bite your lip so hard it draws blood. Reaching out with a trembling hand, you caress his cheek. “Sunoo, it's sensitive”

He finally comes to his senses with a deep inhale, then slowly unlatches his lips from you. The surface is rubbed raw—pink, plump, and glistening. You clench around nothing at the sound of his voice.

“Tastes so good,” he mumbles, rubbing his cheek over your inner thigh in the moment of quiet, before he peers up at you.

You stare at each other, the reality of what just happened dawning in a flushed silence. Shame heats your face as you remember how much slick your body produces in heat, a detail alphas never failed to tease you about.

Sensing your embarrassment, Sunoo watches you from between your thighs. From there, he sees the muscles in your neck tense, your gaze drift away to something suddenly interesting on your left, and feels the faint tremble running through your legs. Slowly, he rises: sliding his cock out of his boxers with ease.

A gasp tumbles out of you at the sight of his own slick. Calmly, he tugs on your thighs until his cock settles between your folds, rubbing against them with ease. The sound of your combined slick is sinful—jarringly loud. He bites and toys with his lip piercing as his gaze fixes on where your bodies teeter on the edge of entry. “See how perfect this is? Look at you.” He marvels.

Clasping his neck, you press your chest to his, rubbing your nipples against his piercings. He hisses, a pretty moan stuttering from his lips as his head falls, overwhelmed by the sensitivity.

Gliding down, you wrap your lips prettily over his chest, your tits dragging against his abdomen before you flick your tongue across the surface—your pale pink gloss staining his porcelain skin.

Heeseung’s words rise to the surface: Sunoo’s a huge masochist.

And then, you bite.

His eyes widen when your teeth clack! against the metal, and you feel his cock twitch directly above your clit. “A-ah!”

One arm wraps around his waist while your small hand lifts to trace delicate fingers over his right nipple. You widen your jaw and bite again; leaving indentations circling around the glinting piercing. Sunoo’s eyes gleam in the pink light, lashes lining with pearl-like tears from the raw sensitivity.

His hips snap forward, drawing a whine from both of you. “God, you feel s-so good,” he stutters, his hand finding the back of your head to hold you sweetly against his chest. His eyes nearly roll back when you bat your lashes and look up at him innocently. “F-feel so pretty against me like this.”

He stares at how the soft fat of your pussy practically tugs his cock down, hugging it—a sloppy, messy sound resonating from between you. His eyes widen when you pull back, your thin hand moving down to part your pussy with two fingers, revealing the silky pink insides.

Flinching, his abdomen catches the stray droplets from between your damp, rocking bodies.

“Sun'—I want it inside.” You lie back fully, releasing his waist to hold your legs open, your arms hooked under your knees. Sunoo sucks in a sharp breath: never in his life has he seen something so fucking pretty. Your cheekbones catch the light, a blooming flush dusting the bridge of your nose and warming your skin. Your hair falls around you like a soft halo, framing your silhouette in a quiet glow.

“My sweet girl wants it inside?” He cups your face in his palm and presses a firm kisses to your temple, lingering there for a moment before nuzzling his nose into your hair and inhaling softly. One of your eyes squeeze shut at his affection, as you lean into it warmly. Your arms loosen where they’re wrapped around your legs, posture softening as you tip your face up to look at him. Your hands reach to run along his slim silhouette.

You quietly nod, biting back a smile. When he slides inside of you, your hands drag up to delicately wrap around his throat—his cock throbs are the pressure. Your back arches at the stretch.

It’s a cacophony of sweet depravity—each time he pulls his hips away, you draw him back with an open mouthed kiss. Everything’s damp. Heated— in a room full of pleasured sighs and slick skin. You feel his hand slide up your abdomen and hold your under-breast in his palm, tits bouncing erratically at the weight of his surprising force.

Small mumbles leave his mouth like a chant against your throat when the flesh is held between his teeth.

“So pretty.”

“Feels so fucking good.”

“Mine.”

The last one had you practically purring in his arms, pointing your breasts upward so he can latch on and mark them. A guiding hand grasps on the meat of your thighs to roll your hips on him manually.

Everything’s doused pink. Sunoo doesn’t even flinch when you squirt hard around him, only opting to fuck into you even harder.

Eventually, you’re on top of him with your hands pressing down on his throat—shaking on his cock after he fills you up for the third time. And another time, he’s saddled in your throat while his mouth works you into another orgasm.

Instinct takes over and memory gives way to an occasional blackness. If you pass out—you don’t pass out for long.

You don’t know how long it’s been. All you know is that your back is impossibly arched, tits pressed flat against the mattress, and that Sunoo’s fucking you hard enough that your head’s deliciously empty. Even the sides of your mouth are sore and raw from the amount of times Sunoo’s crammed himself down your throat until you cried. The sheets are soaked beyond repair and if you were in the right mind, you’d shriek at the almost… jammy texture.

Both your and Sunoo’s bodies are marred with bite marks, the skin flushed, red, and damp. His hips rolled against the soft flesh of your ass, rhythmically stretching your pussy—devastatingly entranced by the way you’re crying into your pillow, how your body seems to glow under the pink light of your room, and how the meat of your body shakes intensely every time he drove back down into you.

His own slick only aids how seamlessly he glides into you, nipple piercings rattling at his force. You drool a little when he shoves himself deep into your stomach, and you attempt to crawl away instinctively. Sunoo only grips onto your elbow and pulls your back flush against his chest, before sliding back in and fucking into you.

Your collars rattle in unison, soft moans painting the air. His skin is soft. Satin, despite the rough nature of his movements. And you couldn’t help the repetitive thought chanting in your head that you’ve never been with someone so beautiful before.

You piss around his cock the moment he prods at a particular spot, eyes rolling to the back of your head. On cue, he brushes your hair away from your neck, his fingers lingering for a breath before his teeth graze the soft skin at the back. He bites into the flesh mid-orgasm, abdomen caving and tensing as he whimpers against your skin.

Sunoo collapses, chest heaving, eyes squinting from the light peaking over the horizon.

It’s morning already. How long have you been going at it?

You tug on his arm until he settles beside you, then slink into his embrace as the two of you catch your breath. You brush your fingers through his hair—occasionally nipping at the skin of his neck.

His finger traces along your spine, thoughtful and slow, before he speaks.

“Can I be yours?”

You lift your head from his neck, your chin pressing against his chest as you stare up at him with tender eyes. Nervously, you toy with his collar, finding comfort in the soft, bell-like chime of the silver star–shaped charm.

Would he really be okay with you?

He stares at you, wide-eyed.

Shit—you hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

Something steadies in him then. He fixes his gaze on yours and speaks softly. “I’m no Alpha. I won’t be the strongest guy in the room, and I probably enjoy getting beat up more than I enjoy throwing a punch—but I’ll keep you safe in the ways I know how. I’ll love you right, in all the ways Sunghoon or any other douchey Alpha didn’t.”

A bright giggle bubbles from your chest.

“I’ll be yours if you’ll have me.”

Sunoo swoops down to steal your breath with a kiss—only pulling away when you’re on the brink of passing out again.

The two of you curl together like Siamese cats at the edge of the bleachers, either oblivious to—or deliberately ignoring—the stares from every direction. People gawk openly; the sight of two Omegas tangled up like this is a rarity.

You’re only here because Heeseung insisted. He’d dragged you both to his home game with a dramatic sigh and a vague gesture between you. “If I hadn’t been around,” he’d said, waving a hand at the two of you, “it wouldn’t have happened.”

At some point, Sunoo’s hands are on you—fingers digging into your waist, tongue warm against yours. The world dissolves into background noise. The roar of the crowd, the sharp whistle of plays, even the game itself fades away.

You don’t notice a thing—until a collective gasp ripples through the stands.

Out on the field, Park Sunghoon goes rigid, the ball still in his hands as he stares at the two of you kissing with reckless abandon. A split second later, he’s flattened beneath a brutal pile of incoming bodies.

Sunoo laughs against your mouth. “Serves him right,” he murmurs, stealing another indulgent kiss. “Maybe I should join the team too. Gives me an excuse to pull something like that.”

You giggle, nudging your nose against his. “Only if you play nicely.”

In the distance, Sunghoon lets out one long, pained groan—and you can’t help but think life has never felt more right.

fin.

he has you in the nasiest mating press, eyes rolling to the back of your head until your damn near screaming out from his cock is kissing your cervix. "kuna, m'so close! please don't stop pleasepleaseplease" useless rambles escape your mouth, his free hand finds your clit, rubbing tight circles on it. "cum f'me flower. cum. i know you can do it, give it to me baby." clear liquid gushes out of you, coating his cock and stomach before drenching the sheets below you.

he continues pounding you, your pussy giving one tight squeeze and he's burrying himself to the hilt as he cums in you. "fuuuck, so good baby. you did so good." he pulls out slowly, giving your clit a smack and grinning when you whine. surprisingly, he was good at aftercare and though you didn't know it—you're the only one he's ever cared enough for to do it. he cleans you up with a damp warm rag before cuddling up to you, tucking you in his neck as you both drift to sleep.

his eyes flutter open, the warm sun pooling in through his curtains and shining his room. though the sun warms him, he feels cold realizing you're not snuggling up next to him anymore. a yellow post-it note catches his eye. he groans, getting up and ripping it off the bedside table.

'thank you for the night kuna :)'

"tch. childish." he crumples the note and throws it randomly on the floor, ignoring the pang in his chest. he puts on sweats, yawning as he exits his room and walks down to the living room of the frat where everyone already is.

"theres our sleeping beauty!" gojo blurts out with a mouthful of food. "shut up." sukuna grumbles back, going to the kitchen to mix up a protein shake, scowl evident on his face. sure, that was sukunas usual face–especially after waking up–but today it was more.. upset. and toji noticed that. toji leans in the entrance of the kitchen.

"what's got you worked up, princess?" he teases to which sukuna just rolls his eyes. "nah, seriously, kuna. whats up your ass." the kitchen is silent for a beat, just heavy feelings weighing the air. "s'nothin." he bumps shoulders with toji as he exits the kitchen, heading back up to his room. he knows toji isn't gonna believe it. how could he?

"bull." toji shouts before sukunas door slams behind him. he sighs. and oh how sukuna wishes it wasn't. a scoff escapes his lips as his eyes wander his floor until they land on that stupid little post-it again. "so dumb."

You have dated Lee Minho for nearly three months, and he still hasn’t kissed you. Okay, well, he has kissed you before, but not in the way you wanted him to. His kisses were either on your cheek or just briefly on the lips. None of his kisses was raw, passionate, and even…possessive. He hasn’t kissed you like he wanted to fuck you.

At the start, you figured that it was just his personality. Even when you met him at some pudding shop, you knew he was a bit closed off. His expression has often been neutral, his humor was dry, and the most physical touches he’s ever done were hand-holding, small kisses, and hugging you if you hugged first. Even his clothes were heavily contrasting with your hyperfeminine aesthetic. If he wasn’t on stage, he wore mostly black hoodies, sweatpants, T-shirts, strong cologne, and sometimes, a plain, regular suit every man ever would wear. Meanwhile, you wore lace, dresses, skirts, bows, flashy jewelry, sugary perfume, showy shoes, and everything pink, fluffy, and ruffled you could get your hands on.

If anyone got only one glance of the two of you, they’d only see a princess and her brooding bodyguard.  

That wasn’t to say that Minho had been an awful boyfriend. He took you out on dates to fancy restaurants, the beach, cat cafes, and even his dorm, where he cooked dinner himself. Those dates have been wonderful, and you enjoyed every second of them. He was handsome, he was polite, and he always made sure that you got home safely. You just wondered if he was ever going to give in and be more physically affectionate with you or even tell you that you looked pretty.

You haven’t seen Minho in about a whole week. He said he was busy working on the upcoming Stray Kids comeback, so there was no time to schedule a proper date. You understood, but God, you just wanted that man to fucking touch you. Three months and no proper kiss? Of course, you didn’t want to rush or pressure him, but you still couldn’t help but wonder what was holding him back. Was he a virgin? Was he just shy? Or was he waiting on you? You needed an answer!

Even though he was busy, you wanted to see him at least. Calling him and texting him wasn’t enough. You were now in your bedroom, fishing out the perfect outfit from your incredibly pink closet. A pile of lace and bows was on the floor, and it only got bigger and bigger as you stared at yourself in the mirror to see if it was the right outfit. You were now wearing a baby pink fuzzy tube top with its matching miniskirt. It was cute. You loved this outfit. It was super soft, simple, and even sexy. Your tits and ass looked amazing in it, but Minho has seen you wear it before.

“Ugh! I can’t wear this,” you scolded yourself, “He’s seen it before and barely reacted to it.”

You immediately stripped off the set of clothes, leaving you in only your lacy white underwear. You went back into the closet to see that it was damn near empty. Your eye twitched, you pulled on your hair, and you heaved a groan of frustration as your knees landed on your fuzzy Hello Kitty carpet.

“Fuck! Why is this so damn hard?” you whined, “Does he even think I’m sexy?”

A pout formed on your glossy lips, and you laid on your side on the carpet, basking in the dreamy scent of flowers that you often sprayed on it. You sighed in defeat, thinking that maybe Minho just wasn’t into you as you were into him, and he’s probably just stringing you along like any man ever. But he couldn’t be just like any man ever. Any man ever would try to grab you, spank you, ask to fuck you within seconds of seeing you, and generally act super gross because of the way you dressed. Minho was polite. Minho was modest. He was respectful, and you liked respectful men. And he was actually handsome, unlike most men you saw daily. You just wished that he’d do more than just be polite and modest. You wanted that man to ruin you.

“What outfit could even get him to ruin me?” you sighed, before looking right at yourself in the mirror: you lying on your side, your hair a little messy and slightly covering one side of your face, and you wearing nothing but white lace panties that had little bows on the sides. 

Pink dusted your cheeks, and you couldn’t help but stare. What if Minho walked in and saw you like this? A lightbulb turned on in your head. Maybe you didn’t need the perfect outfit. You just needed to test the waters first. Your eyes darted around the floor, looking for your phone. Once you landed on the pink and pearl-studded phone case, you instantly grabbed it and took a quick picture, the flash creating a little star on the mirror. You looked at the picture and smirked. Surely, this would be enough to fluster him. You sat up and got an even better idea.

You tried different poses in front of the mirror. You played with the lighting in your room. You even applied a lot more lip gloss to make your lips look more succulent. You tried adding more or less jewelry. You tried different facial expressions, such as the doe eyes and pouty lip combo or the wink and lip bite combo. You even pointed your camera at different areas of your body, like your bare cleavage or your nearly bare hips, as you pull on your white panties. You even tried no panties. You tried putting on the sexiest lingerie you had, your favorite being the sheer ruffled pink set that had some floral details. They weren’t covering anything, more so decorating your body. You even grabbed the longest pink satin ribbon you had, which you typically tied your hair with, and took a picture of your bare legs tied together with it.

Once you were finally done with taking enough pictures to fill a magazine, you looked back at all the photos. Excitement bubbled up in your stomach, and you couldn’t help but giggle and kick your feet. Surely, they had to work. Surely, they would stir something in Minho at least. They must have. You put your whole heart, soul, and pussy into these pictures. Especially one of them. The picture was of you completely wearing nothing but your lacy white stockings that reached up to your upper thighs and had little bows on the hems, paired with your Leebit headband. In the picture, you were on your knees hugging a giant Leebit teddy bear from behind, making a suggestive pose but giving such an innocent face to the camera: your eyes wide and doe-like, your lips glossy and wet, and your mouth was open as if you were giving a shocked expression.

You opened your messaging app, selected all the pictures, and were ready to click the send button. Your heart pounded, your face was completely red, and sweat was dripping down your body. Come on, Y/N. Just send them. You didn’t do all of this for nothing.

And within the next two seconds of inhaling and exhaling a large breath, you clicked send.

x•x•x•x

Minho typically kept his phone off during practice. He was again putting his all into the new choreography for the comeback. New arm movements. New group synchronization. New leg movements. New footwork. It was tiring. Not that he hated it, but his lungs were begging for air every second, sweat was dripping down his whole body, and by God, was his body ready to collapse. Luckily, it was time for a break. Chan left the practice room to grab the lunch he ordered; meanwhile, Minho and his fellow members were left to their own devices. He only went to the spot in the room where his stuff was lying on the floor. He sat down, and of course, Han sat next to him.

“Finally, a break,” Han sighed, “Like the choreo is good, but damn, my legs are killing me!”

“What food did Chan-hyung order again?” Minho asked, his voice a little gruff and breathless.

“I think tteokbokkie? Are you okay, Minho? You look tired?”

“I’m fine. This dance was just a lot…”

“Well, at least you can rest for now.”

“Yeah…”

Minho inhaled and exhaled once more, and he finally decided to kill whatever time he had by opening his phone. If he were being honest with himself, he wondered how you’ve been doing all week. It was so unusual not seeing you every single day, and it bothered him especially whenever his members would ask about you because he didn’t know. He didn’t want them to know either, because why should they? You’re his girlfriend, not theirs. You were probably doing fine. You always were. You with your cute pink outfits, sugary perfumes, candy lip gloss, and that bubbly aura you always carried everywhere, bringing smiles—oftentimes perverted—to others’ faces. He was so sure that you were incapable of being bored. A girl like you was always excited about something.

He remembered the last time he took you out on a date, you were so entertained by the bees pollinating the pink roses at the park. To him, it was just some bee doing its service in nature, but to you, your eyes widened in awe of that bee. It was the cutest thing ever in the world to you, and you rambled about this one TikTok you saw of someone having a pet bee. And of course, the color pink never fails to catch your attention. You wanted to pick out one of the roses, but Minho warned you about the sharp thorns and spiderwebs that covered a good portion of the flowers. You pouted and whined, but luckily, you were happy again when he gave you a bouquet of similar-looking pink roses. Your smile, giggling, and jump always replayed in his head, and he would do anything to see you that happy once more.

“You’re going to text her?” Han asked, interrupting Minho’s chain of thought.

“Oh…yeah…I am,” Minho said, pursing his lips together. “I’m not sure of what to say…it’s been a whole week without seeing her.”

“Just say ‘I miss you.’”

The tips of Minho’s ears gained a red tint all of a sudden.

“That sounds desperate. I can’t let myself look like that.”

“Hyung, be for real. You like her, and it’s been three months, right?”

“Yes—”

“So, it’s not out of bounds to say that you miss her.”

“I guess so, but…”

“But what?”

Minho stared at the black screen of his phone. His heart was skipping a few beats, his stomach churned a little, and his mind was a little jumbled. Why the Hell am I nervous?

“Okay, I’ll do it…”

He turned on his phone, his lock screen being a picture of you with his three cats. A soft smile formed on Minho’s face. You looked awfully cute playing with the most precious babies in the world. He even remembered you meowing at them, pretending to be a cat to get them to like you. In some ways, you were like a kitten. A kitten in pink.

Right before he was about to swipe up on the screen and enter his passcode, he got a text from you.

kitten =^-^=: [22 attachments]

kitten =^-^=: <333

It’s been a couple of days since you last texted him, so his stomach did a flip. Minho clicked on the notification and immediately dropped his phone, creating a loud thud in the dance practice room.

“What’s wrong, Minho?” Han asked.

Minho immediately picked up his phone to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. A whole week without seeing you, and the one time he decided to send an “I miss you” message, he sees you humping Leebit. Red covered his face, his throat went dry, his heart pounded, and he felt the rush go straight to his pants.

“Minho-hyung?” Han asked again.

“I’m sorry, I’ll be right back,” Minho quickly stood up and rushed outside of the practice room to go to the nearest bathroom. Once he was alone in a stall, he took a deep breath and looked through all the photos you sent him. “Fuck….”

He leaned his back against the stall door, already feeling lightheaded. All the poses, the facial expressions, some of the lingerie you’ve worn, the pink ribbons wrapped around your legs like you were some gift, and the fucking Leebit teddy bear. You looked so damn innocent, as if you didn’t know what you were doing: pulling that giant plushie close to your pretty much naked body, your back arched, and your pussy rubbing up against the plushie’s back. Minho felt like he was on the verge of exploding in his sweatpants.

If only he could just skip practice, but now, Minho’s got to deal with a fucking hard-on for the rest of the day. He ran his hand through his sweaty black hair and stared at your pictures again. His tongue was poking in his cheek, and he reached down to his crotch to ease some of the tension. A deep groan came out of Minho’s mouth the more he palmed himself, and frustration stirred in his stomach when none of the tension would go away. He only got harder.

“Fuck—”

Knock! Knock!

Minho jumped and dropped his phone on the bathroom floor.

“Minho? You okay?” Chan asked from the other side of the stall.

“Yeah!” Minho said it too quickly. He cleared his throat, and sweat was still dripping down his neck. “The practice is just tough.”

“Tough? Since when did dancing get tough for dance master Lee Know?”

The fact that Minho could easily picture Chan’s smirk made him feel more embarrassed.

“I mean the dance is so different from what we’ve done before,” Minho lied. It was a stupid lie, but anything to calm down his chaotic chest. “I’m sorry, I’ll get back to the practice room, just give me a minute.”

“Oh, alright,” Chan said, “Just don’t push yourself too hard. You’re doing amazing so far anyway. We’ll wait for you.”

Chan left the bathroom, leaving Minho alone again. Minho let out a heavy breath of relief. He then looked down to see his phone, which thankfully, landed screen-down. Minho crouched down and grabbed his phone, trying to avoid looking at the picture of you looking so fucking sexy with your plump pink lip gloss, lacy knee socks, and that flimsy nightgown that didn’t bother to cover anything up. Fuck, how am I supposed to finish practice like this?!

x•x•x•x

You haven’t gotten a response from Minho after you sent the nudes. You were lying on your stomach in your pink, floral sheets, wearing your pink lacy nightgown. You were going back and forth between scrolling on TikTok and checking to see if Minho texted back. It’s been a couple of hours since he left you on read, and your heart was pounding from the painful anticipation. You figured that either he was too busy to respond or the pictures gave him the worst hard-on in his life. You were hoping that it was the second option because who just leaves a collection of nudes on read? Especially when you’ve spent so many hours, thought, and horniness into it. Hell, you even used your Leebit teddy bear and headband!

You checked your messages again. Still no response. A pout formed on your lips, and you huffed. Your shoulders slumped, and your body was completely flat against the mattress.

“I’m never gonna do it, am I?” you asked yourself. You then looked at the soft Leebit teddy bear sitting in front of you. Your hands reached for the plushie, and you looked into its eyes while lying on your back in the pink floral blankets. “Is he even attracted to me at all?”

Your hands fiddled with Leebit’s ears, disappointment coming over you the more you stared into the plushie’s eyes. Why was Minho even with you if he wasn’t attracted to you? How could he possibly not be attracted to you? You’re the embodiment of a dream girl. Everyone should be attracted to you. Your head lolled back and groaned into Leebit’s chest, as you pressed the plushie up against your face.

“What is wrong with me?” you lamented.

Knock! Knock!

You bolted up in your bed at the sudden knock on the door. Your heart pounded a little, and you shivered a little. You weren’t expecting anyone tonight, so who could it possibly be? You got off the bed, walked up to the front door of your apartment, and opened the door. Once the door was opened, your heart skipped a beat, your eyes widened, and you felt all the air leave your lungs.

“Minho—”

Suddenly, Minho’s lips were crashing into yours. Your back instantly arched, and Minho pressed you up against the wall. You whined against his lips, and his hands were already grabbing your ass, squeezing some of the flesh tightly. 

“You think you’re so fuckin funny, Kitten?” Minho asked, his voice so deep and low and raspy that it sent shivers from your spine to your clit. “Sending those pictures while I was at practice?”

“Minho…” You were already too dizzy, trying to catch your breath. “I—”

“My members could’ve seen them, Kitten, and as if the practice wasn’t exhausting enough, I was doing it with a fucking hard on.”

A high-pitched moan escaped your lips when you felt the large tent through his sweatpants. It sounded so pathetic, but dear God, you were on cloud nine. Your panties were already soaking, and you were sure Minho could see the slick reaching down your thighs.

“I thought it would be cute,” you said, your chest heaving, your face completely red, and your legs feeling weak. “Plus….I wanted to push you….”

You gulped, feeling so pathetic for admitting it to him. Minho’s grip on you tightened, and he leaned into your ear, his hot breath hitting your skin.

“Push me?” Minho asked, “Oh, Kitten…push me to do what exactly?”

He pressed your body further up against the wall, the tent in his sweatpants rubbing up against your clothed clit so good that you wanted to cry. Tears were forming in your eyes, and you’re sure that your baby pink lace panties were now transparent.

“I—” you started before whining again from the slight movements he made.

“Answer me, Kitten.” Minho gripped your chin to make sure that your eyes met his. His eyes were full of hunger that your heart pounded and your pussy was clenching over nothing. “Why did you send those pictures?”

“I wanted you to fuck me….” You said it rather quietly, but Minho was not having it. He gripped your chin harder, and his intense stare gave you goosebumps.

“Say it louder, Kitten…loud and proud.”

“I wanted you to fuck me!”

Silence was between you both. Minho’s eyes widened a little, and they scanned your body from head to toe. He noticed the pink sheer nightgown you were wearing, how it barely covered anything, how your panties were practically glued to your pussy, your lower lips completely visible through the fabric, and even your slick coating some of your thighs, giving your skin a clear shine. He even noticed the way your hips tried to rub against his hardness, the tip of the tent perfectly fitting between the slit.

Minho then looked at your face once more. God, you looked like you walked out of a porn magazine. A fucking sex doll, begging to be played with. Your pink lip gloss all smeared, the bows in your hair almost undone, and the way your breasts were ready to pop out of the cups of the nightgown. A smirk crept up on his face, and he leaned in close.

“That’s it, Kitten?” he asked, “You wanted me to fuck you? Didn’t think you’d be such a slut about it.”

Your eyes widened, and you felt yourself throbbing at the sudden degradation. You didn’t even think Minho was capable of this. It was like all his politeness and respectful behavior were thrown out of the window the moment he stepped into your door. And you were living for it.

“Is that right?” Minho asked again.

“Please…” you whimpered. You sounded so pathetic and whiny, but you didn’t care. If you were going to be a slut for Lee Minho, then you’re going to be just that. “Fuck me, Minho, please…”

You looked up at him, your pupils already blown out wide and glassy. 

“Well…since my girl asked so nicely.”

Minho kissed you roughly again, and you immediately closed your eyes and moaned. He kissed you the way you’ve wanted all along: he kissed you like he wanted to fuck you. He squeezed your ass once more, and you fiercely kissed him back, biting on his bottom lip. Minho groaned and immediately picked you up. You wrapped your legs around him, and he carried you to your bedroom.

He tossed you on the bed and started attacking your neck. You whined and melted into his touch immediately. Minho nibbled and sucked on your sensitive skin, leaving a large purple splotch as a mark of ownership. He then reached down to touch your soaked panties, playing with your clothed clit.

“Minho!” you whined.

“God, you sound so cute, Kitten,” Minho said, his finger swirling around and then pinching your sensitive bud, making you moan loudly. His breath hitched, and he could feel his cock swell even more. “Fuck, you’re such a doll….always dressed up so cutely and willing to open your legs for me without question…”

You whimpered, getting wetter from just his words. Minho quickly took off your flimsy nightgown, revealing your tits to him. Then he hooked his fingers on your panties and easily slid them down your legs, revealing your soaking wet pussy to him. He sucked in a breath at the sight.

“Fuck, why did it take me so long to see this?” he said, “My messy Kitten…”

Minho then shoved his two fingers inside, immediately making you gasp and moan loudly.

“Minho!!”

He thrusted his fingers in and out, already at a rough pace. You immediately felt dizzy from the way his fingers were hitting your sweet spot. At that moment, you already knew that the three-month wait was fucking worth it. You moaned loudly and felt all the pleasure build up within your stomach.

“Goddamn it, Kitten. You’re sucking my fingers in,” Minho chuckled. He could cum in his pants just from scissoring you and watching your perky tits bounce with every thrust. “So eager like a damn slut.”

“Minho! I wanna cum!”

“I’m afraid I can’t let you do that.”

Minho then pulled his fingers out of your pussy, ripping a whine out of you.

“Why, Minho?!—”

“Sorry, Kitten…” he said, almost mockingly. Minho brought his soaked fingers to his lips, tasting your sweet nectar. His eyes rolled back as he moaned. “God, you taste like candy.”

Minho was then going to lean in for another kiss, but his eyes met the Leebit teddy bear that was across you and him. His mind immediately went back to the picture you sent him.

“Is that the Leebit plushie you used?” he asked.

“Huh?” Your eyes widened from the sudden question.

“The damn teddy bear. Did you use it in those pictures you sent?”

Your cheeks glowed pink, and you squirmed from the embarrassment.

“Yes….” you admitted.

Minho smirked and gripped your chin.

“Grab that teddy bear and hold it like you did in that picture,” he demanded.

“But why—”

“Do it.”

He sounded so firm. No room to argue. Your eyes widened, and your heart pounded. The butterflies in your stomach fluttered, and you did as he said. You crawled to the Leebit teddy bear and pulled it close to you. Your arms were wrapped around the plushie’s waist, and your legs were on its sides.

“Good girl,” Minho said, “Now hump it like you did in that picture. Make yourself cum.”

Immediately, you rolled your hips up against the Leebit teddy bear. You whined, feeling the fuzzy fabric rub against your clit, prompting you to move faster against it. But you couldn’t help but feel frustrated. It wasn’t enough. The plushie was too soft for your pussy to clench on. You kept humping the plushie, whimpering, and getting your slick everywhere on Leebit’s cotton tail.

“Minho,” you whined, “I can’t cum! It’s not enough.”

“Oh, come on, Kitten,” he encouraged, getting closer to you. “If you can do it in your nudes, then you can do it again.”

“It was just a picture!”

You groaned and whined and hitched a breath from the frustration.

“Minho, please….just fuck me!”

“Awww, is the Kitten desperate?”

“Yes, please, please, please,” you whined, tears beginning to pour down your cheeks. “I’ll be good, Minho, just fuck me, please, I beg!”

“Alright, alright.”

Minho immediately took off his shirt and then his sweatpants. Your eyes widened, and your mouth watered. Not only were his abs so delectable, but his cock was so fucking huge, fully erect and leaking with need. You squirmed, feeling breathless from just picturing it inside of you. Luckily, Minho was quick to push you down in the bed, Leebit being the only barrier between you and the mattress. Minho’s hand was tugging on your hair, gripping onto it tightly and making you wince. He even played with the pretty ribbons that kept some of it up.

“I’m gonna fuck you, Kitten,” he said, “Fuck you so good like the damn sex doll you are.”

You hitched a breath, and without any other warning, Minho shoved his cock inside you from behind. A moan was forced out of you. He was so fucking big, and you clenched around him like your life depended on it. Minho thrusted into you so roughly, hitting your sweet spot already.

“Minho!—”

“So fucking tight, Kitten,” Minho said roughly, pounding himself into you. “God, how you’ve fuckin ruined me with those pictures.”

You couldn’t even speak. Your mind was so clouded with pleasure, already getting dumb on just how big his cock was and the way the fuzz of Leebit’s cottontail was brushing against your throbbing clit. The only things that could come out of your lips were just gasps, moans, and whines.

“Already gone dumb, Kitten?” Minho teased, “Of course, a fucking slut would. My cute slut who likes to dress up for some dick. Bet you wouldn’t mind if I tied you up in those cute ribbons you always wear.”

He hit your sweet spot again and again, and your brain is already in the sky. Your eyes were rolled back, and you could feel the tightening in your stomach. You moaned and moaned, your body was trembling, and you were seconds away from losing it.

“Minho—” you moaned.

“Gonna cum, Kitten?” Minho asked, also already the tight coil in himself.

Minho thrusted two more times until you moaned and squirted everywhere, and just like that, he finally came too, releasing himself into your quivering walls. His hips stuttered a bit until he finally stopped moving. You were dizzy, but fuck, it still felt good. Minho’s chest rose and fell with every heavy breath; his heart was pounding, and he felt his cock soften a little. He looked at you beneath him, and he gently patted your shoulder.

“Y/N?” he asked.

“Hmm?” you turned your head to look at him. “Minho?”

“I wasn’t too rough, was I?”

And just like that, Minho’s politeness returned. You blushed and shook your head.

“You were perfect,” you said, “I mean….I’m still dizzy, but I’m fine, don’t worry.”

“Alright,” Minho leaned in to kiss your glossy lips. “You were perfect, too. My sweet Kitten.”

Minho carefully pulled out of you, leaving a complete mess of you and the poor Leebit teddy bear. Thankfully, Minho was already grabbing a towel from the nearest bathroom and cleaned up all the mess. Even on Leebit. He told you not to do anything afterward, letting him take care of everything. Minho helped you slip on a random pink lace nightgown, and he just put his sweatpants back on before cuddling you on the bed. You both just sat in silence for a good few minutes, coming to terms with the fact that you just had sex for the first time in your three-month relationship.

“Why did you hold back so much, Minho?” you asked, breaking the silence. “You weren’t really physically affectionate or even sexual before, so….why were you shy of it? Was I not attractive to you before?”

“Oh, Baby, I’ve always been attracted to you,” Minho said, “It’s just that….I was worried that I’d be too much for your cute ass. I mean you know just how rough I was. I didn’t think you’d like it. And I wasn’t sure if you were ready to take that next step.”

You giggled.

“Well, I’ve been ready, Baby. And, of course, I liked it. Sure, I didn’t think you’d be so rough, but I loved it.”

“Really?” Minho asked.

You kissed his lips sweetly.

“Yes. Really,” you said.

Minho smiled softly and pulled you in to kiss you back. The butterflies in your stomach fluttered, your heart was singing, and your cheeks glowed pink like your nightgown.

“I love you, Minho,” you said.

“I love you, too, Kitten. My kitten in pink.”

Minho kissed your glossy lips once more, tasting the sweet strawberry vanilla. His hands landed on your waist, feeling the smooth pink satin of your nightgown, and you held him tighter than your Leebit teddy bear. It was moments like this when you’ve never felt so accomplished. Finally getting dicked down by Lee Minho was definitely worth the three-month wait.

———————————・❥・———————————