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#ateez oneshot
bvidzsoo · 2 days
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drunk texting bff!Ateez and accidentally confessing you're into them
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author: bvidzsoo
tw: nsfw
a/n: another random one lol kill me atp, these were so not supposed to be nsfw idk what happened, help. perhaps a few of these are...strong, if you know what i mean, lol. don't mind me, enjoy!
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⚞ Masterlist ⚟
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Can you please do a wooyoung smut where y/n and him having a fight at a family event than he make it up for her at home
Love you and your wonderful work 💗💗💗
Ik this took like forever to post but here I am lovely! 😭 I hope you like it tho :33
ᴋɪꜱꜱ ���ɴᴅ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴜᴘ
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PAIRING: Husband! Wooyoung x f! Reader
SYNOPSIS: An argument with your husband always led to kissing and making up.
GENRE: Angst in the start, fluff and smut
WORD COUNT: 1.8k
WARNINGS/CONTENT: Couple arguments (it's not mentioned what the fight is about-), y/n and Wooyoung are rude to each other in the start, a little bit of crying, making up, praising, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, body worshiping (slightly)
   The atmosphere was tense, it was suffocating you, but obviously you couldn't get out of there. You could sense the rage coming off of Wooyoung as he started daggers to the back of your head which was quite perfectly visible through the mirror. 
   The both of you had visited your parents house out of the blue, and you currently stayed in your old bedroom. None of you wanted to cause the tension that was created at the moment, but the guilt of having to fight in front of your parents was eating you up. 
   “Will you fucking talk to me, Y/n? We can end this fight for the sake of us and your parents.” Although his tone was masked with anger, you could hear the desperation in him to want to be in your arms again, to hold you close just like he had two nights before. 
   Your shaky hands manage to fix the earrings onto your ears. Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked back at the man you swore in front of your family to love forever. “What is there for us to talk about? What do you want me to do, Jung Wooyoung?” Your voice cracked unbearably, and soon, unbeknownst to you, a lone tear escaped the corner of your eyes. 
   “There really isn't anything we can talk about? How is this gonna end up? Giving silent treatment to each other till the other person decides to give in and we never solve the damn argument? We're not fucking teenagers Y/n!” His voice raised with every single word he spat out, his eyes mirroring yours as desperate tears escape both of your eyes. 
   Before you could get a word out, there was a knock on your door that interrupted the both of you. The door opened to reveal your parents standing in the doorway, “Mom?” 
   She took a few steps into the room, I- um- was just wondering if the both of you were ready-” Before your mother could finish her sentence, Wooyoung unintentionally cuts in between. “Mom, We'll be leaving.” Hearing his words, your hand snaps towards him. “WHAT?”
   Your mother was caught off guard by your screech but decided it was best to not interrupt the two of you. “We- kinda have something to take care of back home, We apologize for the inconvenience.” You didn't have the opportunity to retort back to him once your eyes noticed the way he looked at you, desperately trying to get you to say ‘yes’, trying to make it up to you. 
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   There was thick silence settled around the both of you, your hands twisting the fabric of your dress in your hands while you leaned back in the seat. There was not one exchange of words between you, while your glassy eyes stared out of the window. 
   Wooyoung sent quick glances your way, in hopes you did not notice, or at least that's what he thought. 
   You knew the guilt would be crawling up your neck for slamming the car door shut in front of his face before he could come up to you or for walking away without a word nor a glance towards him.
   Wooyoung clenched his fist due to that, he was hurt by all the cold actions you directed towards him for the past three days. But he had had enough of the cold shoulder, he needed to show you how much he loved you, how much he cared. 
   Thus, he follows you into the room, to be welcomed with the sight of you washing the last remnants of makeup on your face. He does not refrain from sprinting towards you to wrap his arms around you.”I’m so fucking sorry baby, I’ve been nothing but an asshole to you. But it hurts to have you like this, to have us like this- fucking hell- it feels like I suffered decades without having you in my arms although it has barely been a week.” 
   Tears soon well up in your own voice when you hear his voice break next to you, and you swiftly turn around in his hold, wrapping your arms around his torso. “I missed us too.” 
   There were no loud cries or sobs, just the tiny sniffles here and there, all while the both of you leaned against each other in the warmth of your own house. 
   Pulling away, you raise your head to meet your lips to his, your arms tightening around his neck. His hands around your waist pull you closer as he deepens the kiss. Your soft lips fit so snuggly against his plumpy lips like usual – you smile contently into the kiss. 
   The both of you slowly part away but his lips do not leave your skin as he trails down to your jaw. You huff out a long breath – which you had kept in for who knows how long – “Woo” Your hands caress his shoulder softly. Wooyoung hums against your skin, and he allows his tempted lips to leave a few wet kisses before he pulls away to be inches away from your face. 
   “Will you let me make it up to you, princess?”  His voice and tone was so gentle, so keen on just giving you anything you wanted. A relieved exhale leaves your lips again and your lips part in a smile. “Be gentle” The phrase was almost like a question rather than a request but Wooyoung nevertheless hoisted you up in his arms, with the softest smile painting his face. “Gonna show you how much I love you princess” He utters as he moves you to your own comfortable bedroom. 
   His arms slowly place you down on the mattress, so gentle that he probably mistook you for glass. The tip of his nose wiggles against your nose drawing a small giggle from you before he trails down to your cleavage. His hands had already sneaked under the straps of your minidress. 
   His fingers slowly push your dress down to your waist, hunching the cloth around your torso. “So fucking pretty” His lips pucker as the kissed down to your breasts, leaving behind a wet trails on your body. The soft contact had you whimpering in pleasure, the touch was neither long nor rough but rather they felt like a feather being drawn over your body – ever so softly and gently. 
   A loud whimper is all you could get out when his fingers finally make contact with your wet cunt over your soaked panties, it was barely a graze but your long ignored cunt was luring him for a taste – which he'd rather die than pass upon. 
   With that said, Wooyoung's face was in between your thighs within the span of a mere seconds, his fingers quite impatiently pulling off the slick covered fabric. His equally impatient tongue licks up a strip of your slick and a groan sweetly falls off your lips. Wooyoung beamed at the reaction, taking it as a cue to press his tongue against your lips, lapping against them like a starved man – which he quite literally was for you.
   It hadn't taken Wooyoung much long to have your back arching against the bed, your fingers intertwining with his hair strands as your lips left loud babbles. “W-Woo- fucking hell- gonna cum!” You barely got those words out of your mouth before his hands wrapped around your thighs, his nose pushing further into your clit making finish around his tongue in a second. 
   And Wooyoung took it all, his tongue slurping at your climax while you laid there for a few seconds. Make-up sex with Wooyoung might be different most of the time but one thing was sure – he gave you orgasms that had you brain-dead for a few seconds. 
   A small smile dances on his lips – content with his mind blowing eating out skills – before his hand reaches down to your hair, brushing it softly. “You okay, princess?” 
   You nod swiftly, coming down from your high while your panting still resonated throughout the room. “Want you- right now, Woo, please-” Your sentence was interrupted by his index finger pressing down on your lips – shutting you up. “Ah Ah princess, you need to lie back and enjoy alright? I'm gonna take my sweet time with you tonight.” 
   If you had the brain cells to think, you would be pissed at him for teasing you in your “vulnerable” state but all you could do right now was give him a nod.
   Wooyoung's fingers slid over your folds, “So worn out yet so wet already. I think you're ready for my cock already princess.” You barely think of speaking up in agreement when the clinking noise of his belt unbuckling sends excitement rushing down your spine. 
   You had to admit, Make-up sex with your husband equalized the adrenaline rush the jealous sex with him gave you. His soft words and touches always contradicted his rough and hard thrusting during this – and you savored it all up. 
   Wooyoung didn't need to scan your face to know your eager eyes looking down at your bodies as he slid his cock in between your pussy. Your lips threatened to give up and beg him to just stuff his cock in – until he did it. He pushed in between your inner walls ever so smoothly, all while your nails found comfort in digging into the flesh of his back. 
   There were loud groans from him while his – accordingly impatient – hips rammed into yours. His lips only curl up in a satisfied smirk watching the way your face twisted in pleasure. “if your slutty cunt wasn't enough, your fucked out expressions make me want to fuck the daylights out of you, princess.” 
   His words surely had your cunt tightening around his dick, his hips turning strained for a moment before they picked up a faster pace. “Got all weak for a few words, that you’re clenching around me baby?” 
   Wooyoung’s dick always had an impact on you – and that was to turn you into a mindless babbling mess. You could barely pick your brain back up to respond to his words when your hips shook from the sudden orgasm that hit you faster than a train. 
   You yelped and buried your face into his shoulders, while Wooyoung chased his own orgasm which was soon followed by yours thanks to your clenching cunt. 
   “I love you” The sudden confession escaping your lips felt surreal to the both of you, but Wooyoung was not phased a bit. “I love you too, princess.” Your eyes sparkled up at him, a silly smile painted all over your face. The same one that never changed ever since you met him. But they never failed to turn his cheeks flushed red. There may have been or will be a lot of arguments between the two of you – but it won't take long to Kiss and Make up. 
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beenbaanbuun · 2 days
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mothers w/ mingi
words - kind of short
genres - fluff
warnings - shaving, bad relationships with family, bad relationships with food, body issues, inherited insecurity, mingi is a precarious baby
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“do you think your ball trimmer will shave legs?” you turn and look at mingi who’s lay innocently on his bed, scrolling mindlessly through his phone. that is until your words sink in and his gaze shoots up to where you stand with the small contraption in hand.
“i guess so,” he shrugs as he turns his phone off and puts it straight down. you ignore the way his eyes furrow as you turn it on and inspect the blades close up. you don’t know how close the shave would be, but you guess in desperate times, that doesn’t really matter. at this point, any shave will do.
you switch it off again and nod to yourself, placing it on the dresser before going through your drawers to grab your other things ready for a shower. you pick up a plain blue pair of cotton panties that despite not being sexy at all, you’re sure mingi will find an excuse to rip off of you post shower. then you grab your comfiest sports bra that again has one too many holes to be considered sexy. finally you grab one of mingi’s shirts - an oversized one that seems to have taken permanent residence in your pyjama drawer - and begin to head to the bathroom with your boyfriend’s ball trimmer in hand too.
“hang on a second, baby,” he calls out after you, scrambling off the bed and rushing towards you until you’re close enough for him to swaddle in his grasp. arms wrap around your shoulders, pinning you to his chest, “what do you think you’re doing?”
you lean back against him, enjoying the impromptu hug more than you’d care to admit.
“shaving my legs,” you close your eyes as you inhale the familiar peppery smell of his cologne; it’s warm and invades your senses, just like him, “i lost my razor so i need to use this.”
“why are you shaving your legs?” he asks, not quite satisfied with your reply. probably because you’d stopped bothering with that sort of thing pretty soon into the relationship. it’s a lot of effort, and your hair seems to be the last thing on mingi’s mind when he saw your legs. mostly he just thinks about what’s between them and how he’s going to get to it. he hardly even pays notice to the prickly hairs that run up and down your skin.
“we’re going on holiday with my mother,” you grumble in reply, “i have to be prepared.”
ah yes; the monster-in-law…
she’s a lovely lady for the most part, inviting mingi into the family with open arms despite the fact that she obviously wasn’t expecting him when you said you were bringing a boyfriend home. its clear she doesn’t approve of the way he dresses, or the nail varnish that coats his fingertips, but that doesn’t stop her from treating him like her own son. he gets the biggest portions of her home cooked meals and the first pick of desert. she calls him handsome when she sees him wearing something she likes, and compliments his uniqueness whenever he’s wearing something that’s a little more outlandish for her old-fashioned taste. she thinks he’s brave when he colours his hair in an outlandish fashion, and gorgeous when he wears it black. all in all, she’s a pretty lovely woman once you get past the hard shell of her traditional values.
and, of course, if you ignore the way she treats you.
to be honest, mingi is impressed at how resilient you turned out after living with that woman for 18 years. constantly having your self esteem torn down can’t be good for someone’s mental health, and yet you made it out the other side with a relatively normal relationship with your body. you have a healthy relationship with food, if you don’t count the days when mingi has to coax you to eat just a little more, and the days where he’d find you scrutinising yourself in front of a mirror are, for the most part, long gone! sometimes you tell him it’s because of him you feel so comfortable in your body; he refuses to take any of the credit for your own inability to be broken.
in fact, it’s only moments like this that he begins to see cracks in those walls you’ve built up. moments when you know you’ll have to see your mum soon. it’s like alarm bells go off in your mind reminding you that you haven’t quite met her standards yet. eat less because ‘you’ve gained a bit weight recently; you ought to keep an eye on that’. shave your legs because ‘as a woman you shouldn’t have hair on your legs; it’s just not natural’. buy expensive skincare products because ‘acne? at your age? you really should take better care of yourself’. it’s these moments that mingi can see the damage done. that he really has to take care of you.
“you shouldn’t listen to your mum,” he presses a kiss to the top of your head and gives you an extra tight squeeze with his gangly arms, “they’re your legs, not hers; you only ever have to do what you want to with your body.”
“i know,” you say, leaning your back into his sturdy chest. he’s so warm and cosy, so reliable and strong. the small smile that rises to your face as he holds you close is involuntary. you guess you’re just so in love that you can help it, “she’s just so hard to be around when i’m not absolutely perfect.”
“well then i don’t see the issue here,” he lets you go for just a few seconds, spinning you around until you’re facing him. once more he encloses you in his grasp, a loose grip around your waist just to keep you close, “you’re already perfect, baby.”
“you’re so cheesy,” you giggle. he laughs too. in that moment nothing matters to you but him.
“it’s not cheesy if it’s the truth,” he bends down and presses a firm kiss to your lips, “perfect, perfect, perfect baby.”
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bethelighthalazia · 11 hours
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Butterfly kisses
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Summary:  While comforting Yeosang about his insecurity about his birthmark, you tell him something that your grandmother once taught you.
Pairing: bf!Yeosang x fem!idol!reader
Word Count:  909 words
Warnings: Cuteness overload, talking about insecurities
[AN: I hope you guys like it! it had been a thought while watching some videos of ATEEZ and I just had to write it out <3 RE-UPLOAD from my old blog @/justsomedreaming]
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© by bethelighthalazia. Do not repost, copy or translate. Unless stated otherwise, those works are mine and born from my own ideas. I don't have any claim on the mentioned real existing Idols whatsoever.
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The day had been tiring for both, you and your boyfriend Yeosang. You knew that his busy schedule would have him exhausted in the evening, since the boys had a fan meeting and a performance today. However, what you did not expect was to come home to an empty dorm room of your boyfriend after your dance practice at the company. “Yeo?” You called out for him after putting away your purse, only to stop next to the bathroom from where you heard quiet sniffles. “I- I am in here, hang on,” his voice answered, inside you were able to hear a rustle and the splashing of water, bringing a frown to your face. Your hand rested against the wooden door for a moment before you decided to give him a bit of space, walking over to the bed to get changed into more comfortable clothes for now, not removing your makeup yet. That's something you never did in front of your boyfriend or the others, but it didn't seem to bother any of them at all.
You didn't have to wait long for Yeosang to unlock and step out of the bathroom, walking straight to the bed to sit down on it. When you saw his bare face and the redness of his nose and eyes, you slowly walked over to sit next to him, taking his hand in yours to squeeze it gently. The two of you often just sit on the bed silently, just enjoying each other's company without needing to talk or anything. This evening, it felt different though, he seemed absent, on the brink of tears at any second. 
“Yeo…you know that you can talk to me, right?” You asked quietly, drawing a nod from him and when you moved to sit fully on the bed, legs crossed, he did the same, head hanging low and not looking up at you though. “I- the fanmeeting was horrible…��� He whispered, your expression softening at those words. It's rare that Yeosang would say something like this, usually he enjoys talking to ATINY, but today, it seems that something had happened. “While performing, my makeup got messed up and revealed my birthmark…usually it's not bad, but the fans were all asking about it. Every question they had was about it and I just- it was too much today.” Taking both of his hands in his, you squeezed them gently, head tilted ever so slightly. You knew that this birthmark was something he was still a bit insecure about, even though he never said something. “Were they mean?” It was a simple question, one he could answer with yes or no, or if he wanted, explain and tell you. Yeosang opted for shaking his head no, which made you sigh in relief. At least his fans weren't mean or disrespectful to him.
"Good,” You said. “I will get you something to drink, okay? And then, we do whatever you want.” Squeezing his hands gently, you slowly got up to head to the kitchen real quick, letting the boys know that you and Yeosang want alone time and then you got a bottle of his favorite drink for each of you. Before heading back to him though, you stepped into the bathroom, using some of his make-up remover wipes to clean your own face from all the makeup, revealing your own birthmark, one that starts right below your lip and wanders down your neck, ending at your collarbone.
When stepping back into the room, you took in your former position, placing the bottle for him in his hands and when he lifted his head to thank you, his eyes widened. It's the first time he saw you bare faced, so he had no idea about your own birthmark. “You-” He started, but you cut him off with a gentle peck on his lips, smiling lovingly at your boyfriend. “When I was younger, the other kids would always make fun of me, laughing about my birthmark. But my halmeoni always dried my tears when it got to me too much and told me a story.” While you talk, he lifts his hand to let a finger brush over the darker mark on your chin, eyes sparkling with tears, but also curiosity in them. “She told me that the marking on my skin is something special, something unique, which only those people have who were kissed by a butterfly.” A smile appearing on your lips at the memory, your own hand now lifting to brush your fingers over his birthmark. “You are a wonderfully unique person too, Yeo. And I think, your butterfly kiss is beautiful.”
At your words, you saw some new tears appear in his eyes, but his face also lit up with a loving smile. Then, without a warning, he leaned forward to place a kiss on your birthmark before pecking your lips as well. This draws a giggle from you, you doing the same to him, first a kiss on his birthmark, then on his lips. 
“Thank you, jagiya. You always know how to make me feel special,” he whispered, taking your hands in his to pull you into a hug now which made both of you fall over and land on the pillows of his bed. He turned you, so you would face him, and kissed you again, tears still in his eyes. “And thank you for showing me your butterfly kiss, you are truly beautiful.”
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taglist: @mingis-mizu, @tinyelfperson
(if you want to be added to a taglist, follow the taglist-link in my pinned post)
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lilacmingi · 13 hours
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QUIDDITCH CHAMPIONSHIP
My works are 14+ ONLY. If you’re under 14 DO NOT interact with me or any of my works
Pairing: Slytherin!San x Slytherin!fem reader
Word count: 6,000
Note: Brief cameo from Jooyeon (Xdinary Heroes) <3 Reminder that this is an imagine from my Wattpad from 2023 so there will not be extra parts or continuations
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You and your friends started heading off the quidditch field, walking back towards the school when a voice called out to you.
"Hey, Y/n!"
Knowing who the voice belonged to, you turned expectantly to the dimpled Slytherin standing a few feet away wearing his quidditch uniform proudly.
"What is it, San?"
"Did you see me play today?" He questioned breathlessly.
"I did."
"I was pretty good, wasn't I?"
"You were sub-par."
"Sub-par?" He echoed with a scoff. "I'm the seeker, that's like one of the most important roles on the team. I control the whole game."
"For a seeker, you sure aren't finding much."
San's jaw dropped. "I played very well today."
"But you didn't catch the snitch." You pointed out.
"I-" He paused. "I was having a rough day."
"Right." You nodded and turned to leave.
"Hey!" He called to you, making you stop once more. "You know, the championship game is coming up next week. If we win it, will you go on a date with me then?"
The air between the both of you was quiet for a moment until an idea popped into your head and you smirked, deciding to humor him and play along.
"Tell you what, if you catch the golden snitch, I'll go on a date with you."
You could see a look of determination on his face as his shoulders straightened, his eyes sparkling. "Alright."
"Alright." You respond with finality before turning around and leaving the quidditch field.
You weren't concerned in the slightest about your little bargain with San, you knew he wouldn't catch the snitch so you had nothing to worry about.
San on the other hand, took your bet very seriously and planned to work as hard as he could to make sure the quidditch cup trophy belonged to Slytherin.
7 days until quidditch championship
Your textbook landed with a heavy thud on your desk as you set it down, dropping into your seat with a heavy sigh. The empty chair beside you was soon filled by a bright-eyed San who seemed far too upbeat for someone who was up at 9 AM.
"Morning, Y/n."
"Morning, San." You greeted with less enthusiasm than him.
"I'm gonna go to the quidditch field after school to practice. You wanna come watch?"
"No thank you."
San's nonstop efforts to win you over were incredibly annoying, not to mention futile. No matter how much disinterest you showed, it was never enough to push him away.
"Your loss." He sighed, leaning back in his seat and propping his feet on the desk. "I'm going to practice as much as I can. I plan to catch that golden snitch. Just you wait."
"Mr. Choi, feet off the desk." The professor scolded as she strode into the classroom.
"Sorry." He murmured.
You didn't actually think he was going to succeed, not that you thought he was incapable but because catching the golden snitch is a hard task no matter how good of a player you are, so the chances were fairly low.
"You know, there are plenty of empty seats in this classroom." You pointed out.
"Yeah, but I wanted to sit next to you."
"Of course you did." You mumbled under your breath.
To your relief, class began shortly so you wouldn't have to worry about San bothering you for at least three hours. Normally, you'd be upset about having double hours, which is for students in higher grades, but considering this three hour class will keep you from being pestered by San, you're thankful for it, at least for today.
5 days until quidditch championship
Your quill moved smoothly across your parchment as you scribbled down notes for potions class, listing the ingredients for the Blemish Blitzer and Calming Draught potions as your professor spoke. He was talking about all sorts of different potions, telling everyone what they were used for and what was needed to make each potion. You were listening intently, finding some of them to be very useful. There was a potion for calming anxiety, alleviating coughs, and even one to make the drinker drowsy; that last one might come in handy on nights when you can't sleep.
As you jotted down notes, a paper crane flew over and landed in front of you, pulling your attention away from your messily-written list of ingredients. Your gaze lifted to find the teacher's back turned to the class before you unfolded the paper, a note written inside.
Favorite flower?
Your eyes moved over to the only person who could be responsible for sending such a note. Choi San.
The culprit sat a few desks over with a small smile on his face, his cheek resting on his palm as he waited for your answer. Instead of writing a response, you wadded it up and tossed it into your cauldron without breaking eye contact, seeing a small plume of smoke in your peripherals as the bubbling potion incinerated the paper in the blink of an eye. You only did this when the teacher wasn't looking and once he turned around the smoke had dissipated.
San pressed his lips together, visibly sighing before going back to his work.
The day went on as normal and you found yourself sitting in charms class. Your professor was showing you the wand movement for a particularly difficult spell, your wrist flicking and twisting as you tried to get the movement down. Your brows pulled together, your tongue poking the inside of your cheek in mild frustration.
"One more time." Your teacher instructed, his eyes scanning the classroom to get a look at everyone's movements.
"Now, practice saying the incantation." He directed before saying it aloud, the class repeating it.
"Again."
You echoed the incantation once again with the rest of the group. It was a mouthful, but you felt like you got it.
"Alright. Does everyone understand?"
Your eyes shifted around the room, noticing everyone nodding their heads. To be honest, you didn't quite feel like you got the wand movements down, but no one else seemed to have any problems so you decided to keep it to yourself.
San, who was sitting diagonally from you in the next row over, noticed you struggling. Even though he couldn't see your face too well, he could tell you were unsure when you tried to copy the professor's movements.
Later that day, you were headed down the stone-paved halls towards the Slytherin dorms when you heard a crackling sound of sorts that grabbed your attention. You turned your head towards the strange noise which seemed to be coming from a wall decorated with intricate concrete swirls. You took a step back, watching as the sculpted piece slowly began turning black, a doorway appearing seconds later.
Before you could do anything, a hand shot out, pulling you inside the darkness as the door closed. You began thrashing around until a voice spoke up.
"It's just me."
"San?" You spoke his name harshly due to his unorthodox way of announcing himself. "What's going on?"
Just as you asked the question, the room slowly lit as the lanterns sitting about grew brighter.
"It's a training room." He said with a smile.
"Why?"
"You seemed to be having trouble in charms class today. I thought I could help you."
You tried to hide the surprise on your face as you responded. "I don't need help."
"Alright. Show me the spell, then." He countered, crossing his arms.
"I will." You then proceeded to repeat the incantation after taking a few seconds to recall it.
"Now show me the wand movements." He instructed.
You were hesitant and San picked up on that.
"Go on." He prompted.
Heaving a sigh, you withdrew your wand and did the motions in a swift manner in hopes that he wouldn't notice any errors you made.
"Slower." He instructed.
Biting your bottom lip you slowed the movements down, San's eyes lingering on your hand.
"That's wrong."
Your arm dropped in defeat. "Okay, I don't quite understand the wand movement, so what?"
"You need help and you didn't ask for it today."
"I..." You trailed off, the rest of your sentence getting stuck in your throat. "I was embarrassed."
San's perfect brows raised. "Embarrassed? For needing help?"
"It's stupid, I know."
"It's not." He shook his head. "I get it."
You looked over at him, noticing the sincerity in his eyes.
"If you need help, I'm offering it. I know you'd rather it not be me, but if you're desperate enough for assistance then you'll take what you can get."
He was right. You silently cursed him for being so perceptive.
"Fine."
A pleased smile settled onto San's features at your answer.
"Alright, then. Try it one more time, but do it like this." He demonstrated the movements with his own wand, watching you repeat it.
For the next fifteen minutes or so, you practiced the spell until you had it perfect.
Despite how you felt about San, you thanked him for helping you. You weren't above being grateful when it mattered, even if the person that helped was someone that got on your nerves.
"We can meet up at our place whenever you need help." San offered while you both went on your way to your dormitory.
Your brows raised. "Our place?"
"Yeah." He grinned. "The training room."
"It's not our place."
He seemed to deflate a bit at that but was quick to brush it off, changing the subject.
"The sun doesn't go down for another hour and a half, I was thinking of practicing at the quidditch field again. You wanna come watch?"
"I'll pass."
He had been asking you every day if you wanted to watch him practice and you had no interest in doing so.
"I assumed as much." He gave a dry, half smile. "There's no harm in trying though."
3 days until quidditch championship
Your shoes brushed against the grass as you walked through it, the blades making a soft shiff sound in response to your feet moving past. Classes were done for the day and you decided to take a walk around the school grounds, enjoying the refreshing weather. Your brief journey led you to the quidditch field, your eyes unconsciously taking a glance towards it, catching sight of San flying around as one of his teammates, Jooyeon, watched from he ground. Based on the lack of players, it appeared San was doing a solo practice. Without realizing, you came to a stop watching the way San dodged the bludgers coming at him, whizzing through the air with ease. Moving closer to the arena's entrance you stood and observed, making sure you were hidden as your eyes followed San's figure zooming around the field on his broom.
As annoying as he sometimes was, he was a good quidditch player, that much you would admit. Not just that, but his determination to improve was somewhat admirable—you'd never say it out loud though.
All of a sudden, one of the bludgers rammed into him and nearly knocked him off his broom, his once solid form wavering. You recoiled, hissing slightly at the sight as you imagined how bad it must have hurt. He tried to recover, but appeared to be losing control of his broom, unable to get himself back on track, this causing him to tumble to the ground, rolling a few times before stopping, his body a lump on the grass.
"San!" You gasped, rushing out onto the field without giving it a second thought.
He winced as he rolled onto his back.
A feeling of guilt washed over you as you took in San's pained expression, part of you felt like you were to blame for this. You made that stupid deal with him and now he had pushed himself too far and gotten injured.
"Y/n?" San peeled one of his eyes open to look up at you before a cheeky smirk pulled at his lips. "So you did decide to come and watch."
"Don't be delusional. I was only passing by."
"Sure you were." He rolled his eyes with a sideways grin.
"Do you want help or not?" You asked, losing your patience.
"I'm fine." He assured you, pushing himself into a sitting position. "It's nothing a quick trip to the nurse won't fix."
"You need to be careful."
"I need to catch the snitch." He said, meeting your gaze, his sharp eyes full of determination.
It was in that moment you worried he would actually win.
"San! You alright?" Jooyeon ran over with a worried expression, his distressed gaze scanning over his older teammate, searching him for injuries.
"Yeah, I just hit the ground really hard." He responded, rubbing his shoulder.
"We need to get you to the hospital wing."
"Y/n can take me." San insisted.
"No. I have somewhere to be." You lied.
"Not anymore you don't."
Without a choice or a say in the matter, you pulled San's right arm over your shoulder and helped him up, noticing the way his face twisted as he got to his feet. Escorting San to the hospital wing was not how you planned to spend your afternoon.
He was quick to asses the fact that he hit his left shoulder pretty hard on the ground when he fell off his broom, hard enough for it to cause him pain when he moved it. The injury, though minor and easy to fix, was preventing him from getting the rest of his afternoon practice in which agitated him.
The only sound heard was two pairs of feet moving through the grass and the light breeze that blew past the trees on the school grounds, rustling their leaves.
"That was a nasty fall." You commented, needing to break the deafening silence that loomed in the air.
"Yeah. That bludger hit me pretty good. Usually I'm able to recover without any issues, but for some reason I couldn't this time. I guess you're a bad luck charm."
"Bad luck charm? Really?" You sarcastically responded.
"I mean, it happened when you were watching me. You never showed up to my other practices and I never had any accidents then."
"Then I'll be sure to watch you real good during the championship game."
Your jab meant nothing to him, in fact it made him laugh.
Once you dropped San off at the hospital wing, you allowed the nurse to take things from there and turned to leave.
"Where are you going?" San asked.
Truthfully, you weren't sure.
"To the dormitory." You answered.
"Could you stay?"
Something in your gut told you to listen to him and for some odd reason the idea wasn't completely appalling.
"Alright." You caved, moving to sit on an empty bed beside the one San was occupying.
"What seems to be the problem?" The nurse asked him.
"I fell off my broom during quidditch practice. I hit the ground pretty hard and I think I may have injured my shoulder."
"Let's see." She began removing his gear, leaving him in his uniform pants and a black shirt.
She gingerly touched his shoulder, seeing if he reacted. When he didn't, she started moving it which is when San's face twisted in discomfort. After a moment, she nodded her head as if she figured out what the problem was.
"It seems you may have just bruised your shoulder, maybe even pulled a muscle during your fall. That's no problem, though. I'll heal it up right away."
You watched as she cast a spell, immediately healing his injured shoulder.
"Move your arm around for me, please." She requested.
San did as he was told, his eyes lighting up.
"All better." He smiled.
The whole visit took no time at all, you wondered why San even asked you to stay in the first place. Though, some part of you was glad he did. The thought of leaving him alone didn't quite feel right.
Once the nurse walked away, San jumped to his feet, rolling his shoulder to test it.
"Thank goodness it was just rough fall and a pulled muscle. If it were something more serious she might not have been able to heal it and then I couldn't play in the championship game." He went to grab his gear, sliding it back on.
"What do you think you're doing?" You asked.
"Going back out to practice."
"You just injured yourself."
"I'm all better. Everything is fine now." He paused, a smirk tugging at his lips. "You don't want me to practice because you don't want me to win the game. Is that it?"
"No. I just don't see why you're going back out there after getting healed. You should take it easy."
"Ah. So you're worried about me?"
"I never said that."
"You didn't have to." He grinned, sauntering out of the hospital ward.
As much as you wanted to try and stop him, you knew you couldn't. He was determined to get back out on that quidditch field and finish practice no matter what.
Later that night you lied in your canopy bed, staring at the green fabric draped over the wooden frame above. One thing you loved about the dormitories was how everyone got a canopy bed with curtains that could be drawn for privacy. During your spare time you'd sometimes come up to the bedrooms and lie down for a quick nap or just sit with the curtains pulled together while you wrote letters or did homework. The partial privacy the canopy beds gave you made you feel protected.
Tonight, however, your curtain-covered safe haven wasn't proving to give much solace as  thoughts of San swirled in your head, he was plaguing you and you hated it. You couldn't stop thinking about the way your heart clenched when you saw him fall off his broom earlier that day, the scene replaying in your head. You didn't say this aloud, but you were relieved he only pulled a muscle. If he'd gotten seriously injured you don't know what you would have done.
You paused, eyes going wide at your own thoughts. Why did you run out on that field? It's strange. You went out there without even thinking. As soon as San hit the ground you bolted towards him.
"No." You whispered out under your breath.
There's no way you were entertaining the idea of actually liking San. He got hurt, you were worried. That's all. This was just concern masquerading as attraction, you were sure of it.
1 day until quidditch championship
The light gray clouds hung low in the sky, moving languidly across your vision as you lounged in the courtyard. It was an overcast day which was fairly common here at Hogwarts. You didn't mind it.
Your eyelids slid closed as a long relaxing breath was let out through your nostrils, the comfortably cool breeze caressing your cheeks.
A few blissful moments passed before you heard someone walking through the grass, the sound seeming to be close by. However, you decided not to open your eyes, until you heard someone clear their throat, that is.
You peeled one of your eyes open, finding San standing over you, very clearly holding something behind his back.
"What is it?" You asked with a sigh, mildly annoyed that he disrupted your leisure time.
"Sorry to bother you." He apologized, seeming to be aware of your irritation. "I got these for you."
He held out a bouquet of red roses, his eyes staying glued to the blades of grass below as he avoided eye contact, waiting for you to take them.
The sudden gift made you scramble to your feet to get a closer look at the blooms.
"I hope roses are alright. You never told me what your favorite flower was and these are the default."
"Where'd you get these?" You asked.
"It doesn't matter." He responded, still avoiding eye contact.
You'd never seen San act this way before. Usually he was boisterous, overly-confident, and obnoxious. Now, he was shy, almost nervous and much quieter than usual.
Carefully, you took the flowers from him, turning the cluster of blooms in your hands, seeing the way they were tied together by twine, the stems appearing to be thorn-free.
San nervously fiddled with his hands, that's when you could see scratches across his knuckles and the tops of his hands, a couple bandages wrapped around his fingers.
Your expression softened as did your heart.
You cleared your throat, murmuring a quiet thank you under your breath.
"Yeah. You're welcome." He rubbed the back of his neck in a nervous manner. "Well, I'm gonna stop intruding on your alone time now."
With that, he turned around and started walking away. You almost called out for him, asking for him to stop and maybe even join you, but your words were stuck and died on your tongue before you could utter them.
You stood amongst your fellow housemates, watching the field below. Some students around you had signs with players' numbers on it while others had little pompoms with the Slytherin house colors on it, shaking them excitedly. It was a big day and the entire school was buzzing with energy. You on the other hand were nervous. Not only was this the championship game in which you and San's little deal depended on, but one that was between the houses with the longest running rivalry; Slytherin vs Gryffindor. Of course, you wanted your house to win, but if they did that meant you had to go on a date with San and you still weren't keen on the idea.
The players stepped out onto the field sporting their respective house colors, gathering around the referee and taking their places. The quaffle was tossed into the air and the game began. One of the players on the Slytherin team was quick to grab it, zooming towards Gryffindor's goal, but it wasn't that easy. A bludger was hit towards the Slytherin player by someone on the opposing team, but he was quick to dodge it as Slytherin's beater, Jooyeon, came in and hit it back towards Gryffindor at the last second.
It was when you saw a small golden sphere whiz by that your breath hitched. Your eyes followed it as San flew after it.
No, no, no. You thought to yourself.
He reached his hand out for it, but was hit in the side by Gryffindor's seeker.
You breathed a silent sigh of relief.
The game went on and both teams were doing incredibly well, the score staying close the entire time. Your upper body leaned over the wooden railing of the stands, watching anxiously as Gryffindor's seeker and San were side-by-side chasing after the snitch. The latter appeared to be ahead by a hair, his fingers almost touching the golden sphere.
"Go San!" You shouted impulsively.
You were quick to silence yourself. Why were you cheering? If San caught the snitch you would have to go on a date with him.
It was at that moment the snitch darted to the side, disappearing from San and the Gryffindor player's sight, which brought you a little relief.
He won't catch it. You thought. It's too difficult.
But he's been practicing a lot. You noted just a second later.
That little revelation was enough to have you worried all over again. That feeling multipled tenfold when San found the golden snitch and was hot on its trail once again. Even from your vantage point you could see the spark of determination in his eyes and that terrified you.
When he was close enough, he extended his hand, reaching towards the golden snitch while he tried to keep his broom steady with the other hand. You caught sight of Gryffindor's seeker coming up behind San, your nails unconsciously digging into the wooden railing. Moving your gaze back to San, you saw how focused he was, a feeling of dread washing over you. He whizzed all over the field, dodging bludgers and other players, sharp eyes fixed on the snitch. In the blink of an eye, San snatched the flying sphere from the air and the game was over.
"Choi San has just caught the golden snitch! Slytherin wins!" The announcer exclaimed causing the entire section to erupt in cheers.
Your heart dropped to your feet. He caught it.
San caught the golden snitch. Slytherin won the quidditch cup. The students around you screamed and cheered in celebration while you stood frozen and unmoving, your mind processing what had just happened.
You were only humoring him when you made that stupid deal, you didn't think he'd actually win. But now that it had happened, you realized you had to keep your end of the bargain.
You left the stands, keeping your eyes down hoping that you could slip out of the stadium without being noticed.
"Well, well, well." San smirked, walking towards you triumphantly.
"Don't rub it in."
"As bad as I want to, I won't."
"You know, I didn't even want to do this."
"I know, which is why I've decided something. You keep your end of the deal and go on a date with me, then afterwards if you really don't feel anything for me I'll leave you alone."
Your brows raised slightly.
"You're serious?"
"Very."
"Okay." You nodded. "That's fair."
"Great. Meet me outside the school's entrance tomorrow at noon."
A vague feeling of dread creeped up on you as you stepped outside the school, hoping you wouldn't regret your decision to keep your word.
"You're right on time."
San was standing not too far from where you were, giving a friendly wave as you approached him.
"Alright. What's the plan?" You asked, noticing the broom in his hand.
"I'm glad you asked." He grinned while he straddled the handle. "Get on."
You hesitantly slung your leg over, standing behind San.
"You'll have to get closer than that."
You stepped forward, chest pressing against his back.
"Have you ever ridden a broom before, pretty?" He asked.
You ignored the way the nickname made your stomach flip and answered his question.
"Only once during first year when we were learning how to use them."
"Hold on tight."
You barely had time to wrap your arms around his waist before the broom lifted off the ground. San angled the stick upwards, lifting the both of you higher into the air making your anxiety skyrocket.
Your hold on his slim midriff tightened as he flew around the school, your face pressing closer to his back as you fought the urge to squeeze your eyes shut and shield yourself from the heart-stopping view below.
"There's no need to be scared, Y/n." He told you. "You're safe with me."
You hoped that was true.
Lifting your head, you peered over San's shoulder, looking out at the view of the lake sitting below Hogwarts. The outlook from above was incredible and helped distract you from being so nervous.
"It's pretty, isn't it?"
"Yeah." You breathed. "It is."
"See? This isn't so bad."
"I guess not."
After making his way around the castle, San landed on a flat area on the roof of the school, which you were partially relived about, thankful to be on solid ground again.
"The roof?" You questioned, glancing around at the empty area while San set his broom aside.
"Just wait." He grinned excitedly, moving over and grabbing something that you clearly couldn't see.
He pulled back on the unseen object, revealing a picnic setup.
"Ta-da." He beamed, gesturing to the arrangement.
"You had an invisibility cloak? How did you manage to get your hands on that?"
"I have connections." He shrugged. "C'mon. Have a seat."
Obliging, you made yourself comfortable on the blanket he had laid out, getting a look at all the snacks he prepared.
A small array of fresh fruit, sandwiches, and small desserts were spread out before you, even a couple bottles of fizzy sodas. You didn't want to say it aloud, but you were impressed. He really went all out for this.
"Would you like one?" San offered you a plate of small sandwiches.
You obliged, plucking one from the saucer and having a taste. Your brows raised in astonishment.
"Where did you get these?"
"I got permission from the kitchen staff to prepare all of this."
"You made these?"
He nodded, mentally fist pumping in celebration, thanking Wooyoung for teaching him how to prepare the sandwiches.
His dedication was, in a way, endearing and made you feel warm and fuzzy inside, your heart fluttering slightly.
"Is there anything you'd like? I can fix you a plate." He offered.
You accepted his offer and told him what you'd like, watching as he piled the plate with food. He handed you your platter with a smile, grabbing a bottle of soda.
"A drink for the lady."
Either he was really turning up the charm for this date, or he was actually a nice person and you severely misjudged him—you feared it was the latter.
"Thank you for agreeing to this." San gave you a dimpled grin, his cheeks painted a light shade of pink.
"Yeah, you're welcome." You spoke quietly, popping the top on your drink using a simple spell. "It's nicer than I expected."
"I'll take that as a compliment."
The both of you sat in silence for a few moments as you quietly snacked on fruit and took a sip of your drink.
"Thanks for the flowers." You spoke up suddenly. "And also for removing the thorns."
San appeared stunned at your words.
"You picked them yourself, didn't you?"
"How'd you know?" He asked.
"I saw your scraped knuckles and bandaged fingers."
He pressed his lips together, unconsciously fiddling with his fingers that were still healing.
"You're welcome. I hope roses were alright."
"They were. I really liked them, actually."
"You did?"
You nodded. "They're in a vase beside my bed."
Hearing that made San's heart soar. You'd always shown so much disinterest in him, but knowing you kept the roses he picked for you, in a vase no less, made him giddy. Maybe you didn't dislike him as much as he originally assumed.
"Would you like dessert?"
"Did you make this stuff too?" You questioned, reaching for one of the confectionery treats.
"Unfortunately no, just the sandwiches. I'm sure that makes all of this less impressive."
"It doesn't." You responded, taking one of the tiny sweets from the plate San had offered you.
San packed up the empty plates and other leftovers placing them into a basket, casting a spell to make it compact and easy to carry.
"We have to get back down and there's only one way." He stated, picking up his broom.
You peered over the edge of the roof, looking down at the ground below.
"You're not scared, are you?" San asked almost teasingly.
"No." You denied. "I can handle it."
"Get on, then."
You took your place behind him on the broomstick once again, this time feeling more comfortable wrapping your arms around him, the closeness making butterflies erupt in your stomach.
The descent from the roof to the ground wasn't as terrifying as you expected it to be. As soon as you landed, both you and San headed back towards the school, though a part of you didn't want the date to end.
"I have a confession." You spoke up.
San's gaze landed on you upon hearing the word confession, giving you his undivided attention.
"The date was..." You hesitated.
San's eyebrows raised.
"I enjoyed it." You finally admitted. "I was impressed with everything."
His eyes softened as a gentle smile spread across his lips, thought his heart was doing flips. "I was hoping you'd say that. So, what's the verdict?"
"Verdict?" You echoed.
"Yeah. How do you feel about me?"
The question alone put you on edge. How did you feel about San? He was so charming during the date and you couldn't deny that you had some sort of attraction towards him.
"Well, I don't dislike you." Was what you decided to say.
That made San chuckle. "So that means you like me?"
"I suppose it does."
"The real question is, do you like me enough to want to go on another date?"
It only took a couple seconds for you to answer.
"Yes."
"Can I escort you back to the dorms?"
"I'd like that."
The walk back inside the school was a quiet one, assumably because you were both feeling a bit shy after your confession. Truthfully, you were kicking yourself for constantly brushing him off, wondering why you hadn't given San the time of day sooner. He wasn't nearly as obnoxious as you originally thought he was.
You were so lost in thought, you didn't realize you'd already arrived at the Slytherin dorms until you heard San speak the password to get inside. He escorted you through the common room to where the girls' dorms were located, standing awkwardly outside the door, his face red. You turned to him, waiting to see what it was he had to say.
"Is it okay if I give you a kiss on the cheek?" He finally asked.
"Yes."
He leaned in and pressed his lips to your cheek in a gentle manner, the moment not lasting long enough. When he pulled away he was unable to hold eye contact, bidding you a shy farewell before scurrying away.
Your eyes scanned the hallway warily as the secret entrance to the training room slid open. Giving one last glance to your surroundings, you stepped inside, the already dim room shrouding in darkness as the entrance closed.
Your back immediately hit the wall as a pair of lips landed on yours, a set of hands squeezing your waist, keeping you pinned to the brick wall. Knowing exactly who it was, you welcomed the display of affection and kissed back. Your fingers tangled themselves in San's black hair, tugging at the strands any time his teeth latched onto your bottom lip, eliciting a string of blissful sighs from you. His actions made your mind foggy and your face hot, his kisses feverish and desperate.
You tugged his robe off, hands groping his arms, feeling his strong biceps under the fabric of his school uniform.
San parted ways, giving you only a few seconds to catch your breath before taking it away again by reattaching his lips to your neck. He pressed open-mouthed kisses to your sensitive skin, sending a wave of chills down your spine. Your fingers unconsciously curled at the base of his neck. The feeling of your nails dragging against San's scalp elicited a low groan from him, the sound vibrating against your skin and making your eyelids flutter slightly.
When he finally pulled away, you noticed the lanterns inside the secret training room had lit up, wondering when that happened. San rested his forehead with yours, gazing at you with half-lidded eyes.
"I wasn't sure you'd show." He said breathlessly, his chest moving up and down with each huff.
"Why? You asked me to meet you here. Plus, this is our spot, isn't it?"
His eyes widened as a bright grin broke out across his face.
"You called it our place."
"Yeah, I know." You lightly rolled your eyes, huffing out a chuckle.
San had a game in an hour, so you were glad you got to spend some time with him prior, but part of you was selfish and wanted to spend the rest of the day with him.
"Good luck at your quidditch game today." You told San, cupping his cheek. "You're gonna need it."
"I don't need luck."
"I don't know." You trailed off. "Ever since we started dating you haven't been practicing as hard since there's nothing to win."
He smirked, pulling you flush against him. "That's because I've already got my prize."
Hongjoong ⟡ Seonghwa ⟡ Yunho ⟡ Yeosang ⟡ Mingi ⟡ Wooyoung ⟡ Jongho
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Masterlist ᝰ — enjoyed this imagine? reblogs & comments are very much appreciated!
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🏷 @h3arteyes4mingi @weird-bookworm @poppy2007 @parkjennykim @evidive @mxlly143 @lizzymizzy-blogg @minhanbyeol @dinossaurz @laylasbunbunny [tag list closed. check availability on my pinned post]
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kitten4sannie · 8 months
Text
𝔡𝔬𝔲𝔟𝔩𝔢 𝔰𝔱𝔲𝔣𝔣𝔢𝔡
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pairing: san x fem! reader x mingi
genre: smut 
summary: minsan fuck you within an inch of your life <3
w.c: 2.4k
warnings: dom! minsan, sub! reader, san’s a meanie, mingi’s kinda a meanie but mainly a baby boy, himbo energy, threesome, somewhat heavy focus on mxm, spit roasting, spanking, face fucking, degradation, praise, name calling, kissing, facial, cum eating, snowballing, sloppy seconds, overstim, squirting, fingering, anal fingering (m receiving), masturbation, bulge kink, breeding kink, cum inflation (for a split second), creampies 
a/n: this was a request i got by a lovely anon <3 the concept of getting absolutely ruined by minsan is so goddamn hot,, i got really lost in the sauce this time around and i’m proud to say that this is actually just unapologetic filth and nothing else so i hope you enjoy~~
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“Hey, be a little more gentle with her, San. She’s gonna break before I get a turn,” Mingi whined with a pout, releasing the grip he had on your hair to reach across your body and run his fingers along the section of your ass that still sported San’s sizable handprint, forcing his cock further into your throat, beads of saliva and pre-cum dribbling down your bulging neck and onto the already stained sheets below.
Positioned on the opposite side of Mingi with his cock drilling into your needy hole, San rolled his eyes, slamming both hands against your ass, his fingers sinking into your stinging skin and spreading it open slightly to watch his slick cock continuously get swallowed up by your hole. “You love it, don’t you, pretty slut?”
A muffled, though enthusiastic ‘mm-hmm’ left your occupied mouth.
“See, look. She wants me to break her, Min.” San hunched forward over your body, reaching for your jaw and holding it steady as Mingi continued to thrust more than half of his over-sized length into the small opening of your throat, feeling his fingers begin to grow wet with your spit. You felt his warm breath on your back and could practically hear his shit-eating smirk, not knowing his eyes were still on Mingi, simply because he couldn’t bring himself to stop watching him wreck your throat.  “Just look at her drooling all over herself like a brainless whore. She loves to get stuffed with cock, Min, that’s why we’re here,” San chimed, hoping he was educating his glossy-eyes, panting friend, giving him a crooked smile. 
“You’re–shit–right, San,” Mingi huffed out, sweat dripping past his choppy dyed hair and off of his sharp jaw, as he hunched over your body as well and reached out, gripping both sides of your ass. He spread you open further so that San could slide in and out even easier, forcing your back to arch painfully from the way you were sandwiched between them. 
San and Mingi found themselves in a similar position before, face to face, both balls-deep in a toy they preferred to share together, cocks throbbing away as they gazed at each other’s flushed, pleasure-struck faces, unable to ignore the presence of one another’s plush lips.
“Min, lemme taste you,” San mumbled, his hand moving from your jaw to your neck to clutch it, simply to feel the heaviness of his friend’s cock against his fingers as it slipped in and out of your throat. Your gurgled noises of approval and shiny, slicked-up cunt went unnoticed once San and Mingi’s lips collided, each getting a fair share of one another’s spit, their tongues eagerly licking into each other’s groaning mouths.
When Mingi was done exploring San’s open mouth, San took the lead and sucked his friend’s larger tongue into his own mouth, his flushed cheeks hallowing slightly. When he heard a whimper, San opened his eyes to witness Mingi’s big brown eyes looking right back at him. Swallowing their combined saliva down with a gulp, San let go of your throat to grab Mingi’s chin, one hand still cemented on your hip, making sure he didn’t miss a single beat when it came to drilling himself into your sopping wet hole. “You’re gonna cum, aren’t you, MinMin? Huh? Are you gonna spill your load inside her tiny throat and make a big mess?” he asked in a patronizing tone, his ego growing in size when Mingi whimpered more and nodded his head quickly, a bit a drool falling from his lips. San’s dark eyes sharpened, the sides of his lips curling into a salacious smile. “Then fucking do it.”
“Okay, m’ gonna fill her fuckhole with my cum, Sannie,” Mingi exhaled delightedly, reaching down and gripping the sides of your head, suddenly pistoning his oversized length into your throat, making you gurgle and choke on it, tears spilling down your heated cheeks.
San nodded his head in agreement, wrapping his fingers around your waist so firmly, his nails left indents. “Yeah, you are. Fill her slutty little throat.” Feeling you clench tightly around him, San groaned gutturally, his eyes just about rolling into his skull, responding by jackhammering himself into your dripping cunt as quickly as he could, the sounds of your muffled cries almost louder than the lewd sound of his balls smacking against your slick skin. “Fuck, baby, you’re about to cum all over my cock just from being our own personal fuckdoll, huh?” 
A strained, muffled sound of approval exited your throat, only able to take being pounded into from both sides once more, before the dam inside you broke. Your body shuddered and your limbs almost gave out underneath you, completely zoning out from the bliss until Mingi’s cockhead slapped down onto your cheek, hot spurts of white splattering out onto your face. This was followed by something hot and sticky painting your inner walls, some of it leaking out past San’s softening length. “Fuck,” was all you could choke out, your voice a bit scratchy and deep after the abuse your throat took. 
San smiled to himself, gently rubbing your hips in soothing circles, his lower half still flush to yours. “I would pull out, but I couldn’t possibly pass up the opportunity to knock you up, baby.” 
Turning your head back to look up at San, you licked at your lips, tasting the saltiness of Mingi’s load on your tongue. “Good.” 
San beamed at your reaction, his cock starting to harden inside you, wanting to degrade you but choosing to focus on the cum that Mingi left dripping down your flushed face. “What a messy girl. You should clean yourself up.” He slid in and out of you a bit, just to feel and listen to the filthy squelching sounds, before slowly pulling out and sitting on the mattress. 
Shuddering from the sensation of cum leaking out of you, you got up and sat back down on your knees, looking back and forth between the men, gathering up some of the lukewarm liquid on your face with two fingers. You began to suck and lick at them, moaning softly, beckoning the both of them closer once your other hand slipped in between your thighs to play with yourself. 
Slipping his hand around your waist, Mingi leaned in, running his hot tongue up the side of your cheek, collecting some of the milkiness for himself. “You’re so naughty, baby,” he whispered against your ear, his other hand clasping around one of your tits to squeeze and knead it, licking along your jawline. 
San was not far behind him, his mouth already attached to your neck to suck and lick at it, two of his thick fingers pushing into you and curling up to rub at your sensitive spot. The squeaking sound that escaped your lips made him smile against your skin, slowly kissing upwards until he got to your cheek, swiping his tiny tongue across your jaw to taste Mingi for himself. He grunted, looking over to his friend, still shoving his digits in and out of you, your juices accompanying the cum dripping down his wrist. “You need to drink more water, idiot.” 
“Huh?” Mingi mumbled absentmindedly, staring dumbly at San, remembering to grab your other tit to knead it as well, pinching your nipple between two fingers. “Something wrong with my cum?” 
“It tastes bad, you big dummy,” San hissed, removing his fingers from your cunt just as your pleasure began to crescendo, holding up his shiny, cum-coated fingers near all three of your faces. “Lick. This is what it’s supposed to taste like.” 
You pouted along with Mingi, for different reasons, licking between San’s pointer and middle finger, Mingi’s tongue joining yours to lap up the dripping cum. Before you knew it, you were passing the remaining liquid into Mingi’s open mouth using your tongue, spreading your legs open wider when his hand left your chest to cup your pussy, his palm rubbing eagerly against your swollen clit. 
San pushed his fingers in between the both of your moving mouths, his cock twitching painfully into his chiseled abdomen, barely able to take watching the both of your swap spit in such a fervent manner. Groaning, he grabbed Mingi’s shoulder and squeezed it, encouraging him to pull away and look at him with barely open eyes. 
“What is it, San?” he asked softly, licking at any remnants of cum and saliva that was left on his lips. 
“I need you to stuff her with your cock, Min.” He ran a hand through Mingi’s sweaty hair, smiling. “For me.” 
Mingi smiled back at San, his cock pulsing against your thigh. “Anything for you, bro.” 
-
Mingi had you in his lap on the edge of the bed, your back sticking against his heated bare chest, his large hands squeezing into your open thighs, his cock hitting your sweet spot relentlessly, so much so that your cum sprayed out of your pulsing cunt. It felt so goddamn good you were convinced that the stimulation was going to break your mind. It didn’t help that San was on his knees in between Mingi’s thighs, his fingers cupping his friend’s swollen balls and his mouth open to catch your squirt on his small pink tongue, his face soaked with your release. 
“That’s a good girl, do it again,” San praised, bringing his fingers up to rub them rapidly across your clit, pressing them harder into your bud when your hips tried to move away from his touch, not stopping until more clear liquid shot out of you and coated his already dripping tongue. “Fuck, that’s a good slut.” 
“No more,” you croaked out, your lower half so numb, you’d probably fold like a rag doll if Mingi wasn’t holding you in place. “I-i can’t!” 
“You can take it, sweetheart,” Mingi encouraged breathily, his deep voice penetrating your ears along with his heavy pants, sending a jolt of arousal into your core. He suddenly shuddered, emitting a surprisingly whiny moan upon feeling San’s tongue drag up his perineum to his sensitive balls, encouraging him to buck up into you to chase his high. 
San ran his palms up Mingi’s large thighs, squeezing into them the way Mingi was gripping yours, his thumbs teasing his friend’s puckering hole. Smirking at the sound of Mingi’s soft whimpering, San slipped a finger inside, feeling Mingi slowly begin to grind against it on his own.
Mingi’s jaw hung open, too consumed with lust to notice another finger sliding into him until he felt a sudden, powerful crackle of pleasure erupt from within his core. “Oh, fuck, that’s it, right there, right there,”  Mingi groaned, almost growling his words out, digging his fingers into your bruising skin and slamming himself into you even rapidly than before, sending you into a state of euphoria. 
San stroked himself vigorously, the muscles in his upper and lower arms straining so hard the veins bulged out, a bit of sweat sliding along his smirking face. “Oh, yeah? Does it feel that good, Min? Are you gonna cum in our plaything’s tight little cunt again?” 
“Yeah, yeah, yeah–” Mingi could hardly speak, his body and mind completely overloaded with pleasure, to the point that tears began to form inside his hazy eyes, so close that he couldn’t possibly control the whines and whimpers that were joining your own, the both of your bodies unconsciously moving in tandem so that you could reach your highs together. 
San took delight in the visual of his friend and fucktoy completely falling apart in front of him, his fist squeezing around his cockhead, pre-cum spilling out, the slick allowing him to pleasure himself as fast as possible.“Fuck–Pump…her full…nnngh…of your cum, Min. Please, just make her nice and full for me,” San practically begged, so close to his own high that he didn’t care how desperate he sounded. 
“Cumming, I’m cumminggg,” Mingi moaned whinily, slack jawed, his tongue hanging out of his mouth, letting go of one of your thighs to press his hand down against your lower abdomen, feeling the outline of his cock, swearing he felt your tummy bulge out ever so slightly the longer he drained his seemingly endless cumshot into your cunt. 
You couldn’t even begin to form words, your orgasm doing the talking for you, letting out a few small, stunted moans, your entire body seizing up, spilling your release all over Mingi’s lap. You were so gone, you hardly noticed San suddenly standing up in front of the both of you, whispering something dirty and slapping his cock down onto your used pussy, his load spurting out and coating your mound, mixing with Mingi’s load, as it was already seeping out of you and down your ass. 
“Pull out now, Min,” San commanded softly, watching Mingi slowly slide his cock out with a small squelch, lowering himself back down to the floor to get a close up view of the absolute mess that was pouring out of your used hole, his thumbs spreading you apart. You were stretched wide and filled up with so much cum, San was ready to shed a tear from such a beautiful sight. A moment of silence, mixed with quiet pants and sighs went by, before San came up with a brilliant plan. “Should we stuff her hole together?” 
Wiping some sweat away from his forehead, Mingi tilted his head to the side, perking up, as though he were intrigued. “Like cock to cock?” 
San licked at his lips, tasting you on them. “Yup.” 
Mingi mirrored him, licking at his plush lips as well, eventually sighing to himself. “Double stuffed…”
San nodded, chuckling. “That’s right.” 
Once he exchanged a sleazy look with his friend, Mingi slowly looked down at you, his gaze darkening.
“Yummy.” 
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sungbeam · 15 days
Text
𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐰 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧
nonidol!choi san x gn!reader (no prns mentioned)
turns out your upstairs neighbor has a cat who adores climbing through your window — oh, and said neighbor is also fine as hell.
3.7k words, neighbors au (2 lovers), fluff, maybe like two swear words, drinking, lots of mentions of food
a/n: low-key just read this like ur watching the highlight reel of a romcom lol but @jaehunnyy for u 💖 i hope u like it :'))
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It all started about seven months ago when a gorgeous Thai cat waltzed into your apartment via the open window. It was a late July afternoon, stifling hot and sticky, meaning you had your window opened and the mobile fan set up to blow cool air into the apartment.
You were, for once, not at work. Because the art museum you worked at downtown was currently undergoing reconstruction, you were stuck in your apartment trying (failing) to sell prints off your low-traffic Etsy shop while also trying (failing) to make popsicles.
“Why is this so complicated?” You grumbled aloud as you sat on top of your kitchen counter with your knees pulled beneath your chin. You scrolled down the recipe again on your laptop screen, nose wrinkled at the amount of convoluted steps listed. “Too fancy,” you decided, slamming your laptop lid closed.
Immediately, you hissed, lifting the lid to make sure you hadn't cracked the screen from closing it too hard. Thankfully, there were no cracks visible and you breathed out a sigh of relief. You could not afford a broken—
“Holy shit!” You nearly fell off the back of the island counter at the sight of a light gray cat with black tipped ears, paws, and tail seated on the floor before you.
The cat meowed an innocent greeting.
You pressed your hand to your hammering heart and shifted to get a grip on your position atop the counter. “How—? Where…?” Your eyes drifted to the open window.
Oh. Well, that would explain it.
You glanced back at the cat, who peered up at you once more. “Meow.”
Carefully, you climbed down from the counter as to not scare the creature with any sudden movements. “Hey, baby. Where did you come from, hm?” You cooed, extending your hand out as an offer to be sniffed.
The cat unfurled its tail out from around its body and crept toward your hand. With an experimental sniff, you were deemed safe, and the cat rubbed the side of its face affectionately against the back of your knuckles.
Your chest nearly exploded from the cute interaction. You lowered yourself to your knees, gently taking a peek at the silver charm attached around the collar. There you found the engraving of a star in the metal circle.
“I'm guessing this has something to do with your name?” You hummed, reaching up to scratch the feline behind the ears and head. At least you had an inkling that this little one belonged to someone. You just didn't know how to find out who they were.
“I guess you can hang out with me,” you sighed and stood up with your hands on your hips. You didn't mind the company, after all, and maybe this could be a point of inspiration.
About three hours later, the summer sun still hung relatively high in the sky and you were trying to figure out what to feed the cat when there came a sudden knock at your front door. Really, the “sudden knock” was a series of rushed, panicked DUDUDUDU sounds. You nearly jumped out of your skin for the second time in one afternoon, and even the cat seemed to leap.
Well, the cat only looked mildly annoyed that her nap was interrupted, but she seemed content to give a languid stretch and join you in seeing who was so alarmed at your door.
When you peered out the peephole, your eyes shot open.
There was a pretty man at your door.
You glanced down at the cat who looked back up at you. You mouthed to her, pointing at the door, ‘Do you know this guy?’
As expected, she did not answer. Lovely.
You weren't exactly in appropriate garb to see people. You had thrown on something cool enough to not make you melt like one of the popsicles you weren't able to make earlier, and enough to cover any necessary areas. You were sure your hair looked about as luxurious as a barn, and there wasn't a lick of cosmetics on your face.
It was fine, you told yourself. You probably weren't even going to see this guy ever again.
You opened the door. “Hello? Can I help you?” You asked through the chain linking the door shut.
The man flashed you a flustered, dimpled smile at you. His dark hair was damp, like he just came out of a shower, and he had on a muscle tee that was definitely doing its job, and a pair of basketball shorts. “Hi! So sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if you've seen a Thai cat wandering around here about yea high—?”
“Meow.” The cat at your feet shoved her way between the gap you made with the door and out into the hallway.
Your eyes widened another smidge, until the man outside released a gasp of relief and bent down to scoop the feline up into his arms. You unlatched your door and opened it fully now, the man holding the cat to his face as if he was communicating with her telepathically.
“That's the cat, I'm guessing?” You mused.
He tucked her back into his arm and his smile became sheepish. “Yes, I am so sorry about her. I came back home from work and she wasn't in the apartment, but thank you for dealing with her for however long she was here.”
You waved off his concern with your hand, sending him a kind smile. “Don’t worry about it, really. She's adorable. What's her name, by the way?”
“Oh, this is Byeol,” he cooed, lifting Byeol's paw up to wave at you.
Swoon. Your smile widened as you waved back at them both. “Well, it was nice to meet you, both Byeol and…?”
“San,” he answered. God, he was gorgeous. That smile… “And you are?”
“Yn.” You shook each other's hands in the dim hallway light.
“Nice to meet you, too, Yn.” He lit up, pointing up to the ceiling. “Hey, I'm pretty sure I'm your upstairs neighbor!”
You opened the door to your apartment wider so you could show him your open window. “Well, that would definitely explain how she got down onto my fire escape,” you chuckled.
He whistled lowly. “Man, cats are scary sometimes. I'll definitely try to keep an eye on whenever she's near my window now.” He ran the back of his knuckles down Byeol's spine. “I don't wanna take up any more of your time, but thanks again.”
“No worries! Have a nice night.”
“You too!”
San began walking back toward the stairs at the end of the hallway, and you were about to close the door when you thought you heard him chastising his cat in hushed tones. You laughed to yourself as you locked up your front door. You wouldn't mind if Byeol came traipsing down your fire escape again.
And she would. About three times a week when San had a later shift at the boxing gym he worked at (yes, a boxing gym… good lord). Byeol oftentimes expected you to have your window open, and if you didn't already have it open, she would sit out on the fire escape until you did.
Two months into the fire escape escapades, you gave up and left the window open just enough for her to squeeze through while you returned to work.
San would always come down to your apartment to retrieve her, and at some point, decided to swing by your apartment on his way up instead just to make sure she wasn't already here.
By month four when the days were shorter and the nights dragged longer and colder, you couldn't exactly keep the window open, lest you wanted to freeze your ass off in the safety of your apartment. Byeol would hop down the fire escape in the evenings when you were back so you could let her in, only for her owner to come barreling down the stairs, dimpled cheeks flushed and exasperated.
“I swear she likes you more than me,” he guffawed from where he stood out in the hallway as he always did. He shook his head as he watched the Thai feline waltz around his legs once, then circle back into your apartment. He arched a brow at her. “Look at her strutting. She knows exactly what she's doing.”
You swore there was a dash of red gracing his cheekbones now.
You bit your lip through a smile. “Well, you're welcome to come in. I was just about to eat dinner and I don't really think I can finish this roast chicken alone.”
“Ah, I don't really wanna impose,” he drawled, scratching the back of his neck and peering at you from beneath those lengthy lashes of his. He knew what he was doing—he had to know what he was doing. If Byeol could strut, then so could Choi San.
He promised to take you up on your offer as long as you let him run upstairs to grab a bottle of wine to contribute.
The last thing you expected to happen was to hear a knock on your window less than ten minutes later. You nearly jumped out of your skin at the sound, folding over in laughter when you saw him waving to you on the other side with cold-bitten cheeks and a red-tipped nose. He clutched a bottle of red in one hand and gestured furiously to the window latch. “It's fucking freezing!”
“Okay, okay,” you grinned, walking over to let him inside. “Just so you know,” you said as Byeol welcomed her owner into your apartment, “usually it's just cats who come in this way.”
“Well, you might have to get used to a cat and a human coming in now,” he teased. San presented you the wine bottle with a flourish. “Milady, your beverage.”
“Why, thank you, good sir,” you jested and accepted the offering. “Make yourself at home!”
What you didn't expect was for such a statement to be taken so literally, and yet, you had no complaints.
Three months further along—making it seven in total since that first hot July day Byeol came in through the open window—you and San (and Byeol) were cooped up in your apartment as usual. It was a Friday night with dinner on the table, a TV show playing in the background, and a pair of wine glasses for the pair of you. Over the past few months, sharing a dinner together had become a weekly event wherein San would come in via window, and the two of you would have the evening together.
Sometimes it was just dinner, sometimes it was dinner and a movie, and sometimes it was even dinner, a movie, and drunk Pictionary. But every Friday night was yours and San's night.
Plus, he turned out to be a much better cook, so you definitely couldn't argue when he somehow wrestled his entire Le Creuset pot down the fire escape to feed you the most divine lobster mac 'n’ cheese you had ever tasted. (As if you'd ever had lobster mac 'n’ cheese before…)
“I feel like it would just be more convenient if I came up to your apartment instead,” you said with enthusiasm, your free arm flailing around as you melted dark chocolate on a double boiler upon the stove top. While San had the right side of the stove for his chicken and gnocchi soup, you had the left to prepare tonight's mousse for dessert. If San made dinner, you figured you could at least learn a thing or two about a dessert course.
He chuckled, “I mean, I'm not opposed if you ever get tired of hosting. I'm kind of a creature of habit though, which is why I don't mind coming down every week, but it's up to you, sweets.”
Oh, right. And the nickname. You couldn't even pinpoint when that started, but again, you weren't complaining.
“I don't mind hosting either,” you told him, “it's just that it's either you leave your super expensive cookware here or I go upstairs. I don't think Le Creuset has fire escape insurance.”
“You're not wrong about that.” You felt his hand gently brush against your waist as he slipped past you to get to the spice cabinet on your left. “Behind you,” he murmured by your ear before grabbing the jar of Himalayan salt (also his) and returning to his station behind his pot.
You couldn't deny the pitter-patter of your heart around him either. Things were coming to a point that you didn't know how to label. But perhaps that was the beauty of everything slipping into place. You carried on, “I think I've seen your apartment once, and that was when Byeol wouldn't stop meowing until I followed you guys.” You laughed to yourself at the memory. That had been an interesting night.
“If it's any consolation, your apartment has much more life in it than mine.”
“That's a lie,” you said pointedly. “Yours is just more meticulous.”
He snorted. “Meticulous. Might as well be as barren as a clinic.”
You passed him a glance. “I offered to paint your walls…”
San beamed back at you, dimples creating divots in the apples of his cheeks. “And I never said no! But—I do think that it should be something the both of us do together.”
Your brows creased as you took the chocolate off the stove to fold into the other mixture you'd set aside. “You wanna paint with me?”
“Yeah,” he said, almost bashfully. “I think it'd be a fun bonding and learning experience. And it would be cool to see you in your element, besides when you're drunk.”
The latter comment had you turning away to laugh. “Fair enough.”
When dinner was ready to be dined, and the mousse was freezing in the fridge, you and San sat at the kitchen island with your matching bowls of hot soup and glasses of lemon water for the night. Neither of you had remembered to buy wine for the week (surprisingly), but one week without alcohol wouldn't hurt.
The two of you clinked your glasses together, toasting to another week survived.
You took a sip, then spooned the soup into your mouth, wiggling around on your stool in a little happy dance as the flavors did their own dance on your tongue.
San smiled around his own bite. He swallowed, then said, “You know, I always know I did well when you do that.”
“Do what?”
“That cute little dance,” he chuckled. “I’m glad it tastes good, is what I'm saying, sweets.”
Your skin warmed, and you managed to convince yourself it was the soup or the heater or something and not the beautiful man beside you. “Then get used to the happy jig, because everything you cook tastes divine. You should be a chef, San.”
“I could've,” he shrugged, “but I kind of like this little life.” He gestured to you with his spoon, a twinkle in his eyes. “Don't you?”
For a moment, you let the smile slowly unfurl onto your lips. You lifted your own spoon in agreement. “You're right. It's a lovely, little life.”
Now that you were in agreement, you fell into a comfortable silence as you both enjoyed your dinner in one another's presence. Byeol was hunched over her own bowl of food just by the foot of your stool, against the adjacent side of the island. You'd gone out and bought her a pair of food and water bowls, as well as her preferred food. San had been touched by the gesture, and Byeol most definitely appreciated it.
San wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Oh, by the way, next week.”
You hummed. “What about it?”
“Are you doing anything?”
You perked up, eyebrows lifting to your hairline. “Why do you ask?” It was usually unsaid by now that Friday nights were set aside for the two of you to share an evening, which was why you were confused by his question.
And then he explained, “It's Valentine's Day, so I just wanted to make sure I didn't interrupt or assume anything.” He'd said it so casually and easily that you nearly missed the slight nervousness in his voice, or the minor intonation of hope. “I mean,” he fumbled, “if you do have something planned, then it's no worries, really. There are plenty of other weeks—”
You shook your head, finishing off your water after having scraped your bowl clean. “I'm not doing anything,” you said. “Well, besides what we usually do.” You chuckled to yourself, “To be honest, Valentine's Day completely slipped my mind this year.”
And if you were truly being honest with yourself, every Friday felt like Valent—no. You shouldn't think like that. It would only make things worse about how you felt for him now. Plus, these past few months with San felt far too casual, too domestic, to be like Valentine's Day. Was Valentine's Day not for grand gestures and romance? This wasn't grand… though, you could probably argue about the romantic part…
“No, I feel the same way,” he nodded. “My friend Wooyoung just asked today if I was up to go to a single's party, which was why I suddenly remembered.”
Ah. “Oh, are you planning on going?” Wine sounded pretty good right about now.
He grimaced. “Probably not. I—I was kind of hoping you wanted to still do dinner next week—but, like, it doesn't have to mean anything besides how it usually is. If that's what you're comfortable with.”
It doesn't have to mean anything besides how it usually is. What if you wanted it to mean more than how it usually was? There was nothing inherently wrong with how it usually was, but you couldn't deny that a part of you yearned for more. That part of you imagined what it was like if San didn't have to come see you via fire escape, and he was always in the same space as you.
There was a pause as you wrestled with your own conscience about how or if you were going to admit it to him.
He pressed his lips together. “I've made you uncomfortable.”
“No, you haven't made me uncomfortable,” you assured him swiftly. “I just…” You sighed, pressing a hand to your forehead then returning it to your lap. “Of course, I would love to have dinner with you next week, but I’d like it to mean something else—if you are comfortable with that.”
You watched as that beautiful smile you'd come to grow more fond of blossom onto his face. “I'd be more than comfortable with that—I’d be really happy with that, actually.”
“Good,” you said softly, unable to bite your own smile away. “Then dinner next week, it is.”
There was something fundamentally different about this next Friday night compared to the others. Specifically, the context by which you and San went into the Friday evening of Valentine's Day was completely different. The apartment was aglow with the same warmth as it usually boasted, but there was a bouquet of blood red roses in a glass vase on the kitchen counter beside a bottle of red wine.
San was at the stove, finishing off the last bit for dinner before it needed to simmer for a good thirty minutes. You were in the living room portion of your apartment, flipping through the vinyl records to play before you pulled one out and set it up. As you moved the needle onto the record, you placed the empty cover back into its slot and turned toward the kitchen.
You froze in your spot, skin warming at the sight of San leaning over the island counter with an adoring look in his eyes as he watched you. “What?” You laughed, subconsciously adjusting the sleeve of your blouse.
“Nothing,” he smiled. “You're just—you’re gorgeous.”
You were sure if your face didn't give it away, there must have at least been hearts floating around your head. “You cannot just say that,” you chided weakly as you walked over to where he was, your expression growing shy.
His smile widened and he rounded the counter to stand in front of you, your back pressed against the edge of the counter. “I can, too,” he teased. He stepped back once and held his arms out, fingers flicking toward him to beckon you forward. “C'mere. Can you dance?”
“Some.” Your eyebrows arched upward as you stepped forward and took his hands in yours. “Dancing and romancing, Choi San? What magic do you hope to enchant me with tonight?” You joked, moving your left hand to his shoulder.
“Perhaps magic that will leave your window open for me on nights other than Fridays,” he said sheepishly as the two of you began to sway to the music waltzing out from the record player. “Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your fire escape—”
You let out a laugh, ducking your head toward your chests. He did the same, an embarrassed grin coming onto his face as his nose nudged against yours.
“That was god awful,” he winced in apology.
“It was,” you agreed teasingly, “but I'll let it slide because you're cute.”
He shot you a bright smile. “Oh? So I'm cute? I guess that makes two of us.”
You weren't really sure at what point you realized you had fallen for this man. It was sometime between the Himalayan salt lectures and the dancing like an old married couple in your kitchen, maybe. You thought about the day he showed up at your door panicking about a missing cat, and to a future where you might have found yourself in his living room painting murals on his walls. Or perhaps… not his living room, but both of yours.
As you danced with your chests pressed together, hearts beating rapidly in sync, you gazed into those beautiful, dark brown irises of his and sank further and further into those feelings. They were gradually making themselves a home in your chest.
“What're you thinking about, sweets?” He murmured as you tucked your head against his shoulder and the arm he had around your waist rubbed the small of your back.
The smell of his cologne made you inhale deeply. You could get used to this—his smell, the feel of his body under your fingertips, his presence intertwined with yours taking up space in the best possible way. “I'm thinking that Byeol is a good matchmaker.”
His chuckle rumbled through him and softly into your ear. “You're definitely right about that.”
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a/n: pls remember to reblog and comment if u enjoyed!
atz m.list
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essenteez · 10 months
Text
𝐖𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐑 || yunho
"falling in love with your best friend feels like eighth deadly sin."
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"And if you really think that it's an obsession, don't worry." He spoke again, this time his voice was hoarse as he struggled to speak, his thumb and eyes now wandering around your half opened lips. "I'll take all of it."
𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐬 : You made a tough decision that left you absolutely devastated. Falling in love with your best friend was unacceptable. You got to leave. The method was slowly vanishing from Yunho's life until he would get used to your abstance. Deep down, a voice kept telling you it was the right choice. However, Yunho never meant to let you go as he stood in your door on one rainy spring evening, demanding an explanation.
𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : Yunho × (f)reader
𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 : Angst, smut
𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : explicit language, unprotected sex, fingering, oral (f!receiving), tongue fuck, anal fingering, ass smacking, missionary, deep penetration, pet names
𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 : 6k
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Is it possible to feel like your decision, at the same time, is the best and the worst? As if you’re attempting to go both ways, feeling like your body is ripping apart.
You asked some of your friends about it, desperate for a helpful answer.
"Depends.'' they always shrugged, which only meant they had the same idea about it as you did. Read as none.
In the beginning, you thought your approach to the problem would be the best solution for both him and yourself. However, the more time had passed, the more it all felt like the most fanciful of tortures.
Nothing had happened between you two, nothing deep enough that you could hold on to. So why, why did you keep failing to convince yourself that everything you went through was for the best. Was it because of guilt that was eating you alive whenever he looked hurt by the distance you had been widening for the past four months? Or because that was a normal reaction after sacrificing something important for a better cause? You were doing that for both of you, especially for him. Your intentions were good. Why wasn't it working?
And now there you were, completely frozen, face to face with him in the late spring evening as he suddenly banged on your door, ten minutes after you ignored his text once more.
You were now staring at the upset man in front of you. Due to shock, you couldn't look away. You allowed his eyes to burn into you.
He was drenched from the pouring rain outside, standing at your door that you should've never opened. His expression and posture reminded you of a wild animal that was about to attack you.
Your hand trembled on the knob as you contemplated slamming the door in his stoic but serious face. All you wanted to do was crawl under your bedsheets to hide for the rest of your miserable life.
You were wrong from the very beginning. You didn't put on any sacrifice. You've been running away like a coward, and at that very moment, you were about to receive your punishment.
"We need to talk, don't you think?" The jaw muscles tensing up under his skin as he almost hissed the words out.
You had to get away from him, as far as possible. Far away, so it was easier for you to breathe again. It was time to dig through the long list of excuses that, to be honest, you were running out of.
"I was actually getting ready to leave for a night out with girls, so can we…"
His index finger pointed in your face, which stopped you from continuing the poor act.
"This is the only chance I'm giving you to explain what's happening, (y/n). If you close this fucking door on me…" he hesitated but the power in his voice didn't weakened, "you'll never see me again."
The breath abruptly left your lungs. You swore your heart stopped for a second just to restart its beating with double the speed. You heard your blood pumping in your veins as the inner panic unleashed from his words that were like a magic spell.
There was no bluff in his words. He didn't mean to scare you, despite him knowing you were vulnerable for empty threats like that. The warning was absolutely backed up. You could see it by the way he stood there before you, how he clenched his fists, the way he looked at you with devouring anger in his brown eyes.
No doubt, you crossed all possible lines. And you had no idea how to handle the consequences. You knew one thing, you'd rather die than never see him again.
"What do you mean?" You still tried, wishfully thinking he spoke about something else.
No answer came your way. He simply passed you by and stormed inside your apartment. You were too scared to protest, not after the eyes he gave you before walking in.
You slowly closed the door, in need of every second to gather all the shreds of courage you had in you. There wasn't much.
Somewhat ready to get eaten alive by the unbearable remorse, you finally turned around. However, he disappeared from your eyes' reach.
"Yunho…"
"You still have some of those spare clothes I left once after a party?" He yelled from what you realized was your bedroom. "I'm totally soaked."
The last thing you cared about now was wet stains on your wooden floor, spreading from the door through the living room up to your bedroom and glistening in the weak lamp light.
You couldn't form a word, every sound was caged in your throat. The anxiety began its biggest harvest inside you. You felt all the strength leaving your body. All you could muster up was standing on your two feet in the middle of your living room, and that alone was impressive in your current state.
You were registering his steps in the other room. Yunho walked into the bathroom to get rid of the wet clothes. He spoke to himself about how nice that the dryer was there. Then he reentered the bedroom and next you heard nothing but his loud sighs.
"Come here." His voice had little volume to it, but the depth of its tone resonated in your ears and echoed in your whole being. The command was crystal clear and sent a set of sharp shivers down your spine.
You let your feet lead you to the doorframe of your room. However, you stopped them there.
He was sitting on your bed, aggressively rubbing the towel on his wet hair. He wore his plain black T–shirt and pair of gray sweatpants you stored in your drawer after he forgot it months ago. He looked like he had just walked out of the shower.
"Do you hate me?" He asked suddenly, still not looking at you. "Maybe I scared you with something I said or did?"
You wanted to refuse, feeling your heart cracking even more, but no sound left your dry mouth.
He, on the other hand, had a lot to say.
"Did I do something wrong, hmm? Cause I've spent three months going back and forth to all our meetings, and I genuinely don't know what that would be." He laughed bitterly, still drying his thick black hair.
You felt like shrinking while the guilt that kept growing towered over you unforgivably. You had seen Yunho angry before but never at you. Why were you so stupid to think it would never reach you after all you had done?
A tint of sadness invaded his chords, "You suddenly started to avoid me, mumble something under your nose instead of answering me, or you have been straight up ignoring me. You don't pick up my calls or respond to my texts and if you do it's always the same shit 'I'm busy, will call you later' which is bullshit cause you never do, (y/n)."
The tears showed up in your eyes, and you bit your lip to stop them from pouring out like a tidal wave.
He noticed it. The hand with a towel dropped on his legs.
"I don't know, did someone tell you we can't be friends or make you feel bad about it?"
Yes. Me. You cried inside your jumbled mind.
"No." You uttered, swallowing your tears.
"Then what?" He urged, aggressively tossing the towel aside after he turned it into a damp ball. Now, all his attention was paid to you, and you felt bare under his eyes.
"I don't know what to tell you." You whispered, the lump in your throat only grew.
"The truth, (y/n)." He begged. "If you don't want to be friends anymore, then fine, I can't force you. But after all this time and memories we've made, I think I deserve to hear a reason behind your decision. Not to mention everything was fine 'till Hongjoong's birthday."
Him, now linking the dots, made you feel as icy needles ruched in your blood, tearing your veins.
Something did happen at your friend's birthday party. One innocent game, alcohol untying people's mouths, and you ended up begging God to help you erase that night from your head.
You thought you kept your composure after drunk Bona spilled her crush on your best friend. This one sentence that she sang toward him smashed the glass of denial and released all the spirits of truth. The realization hit you like thunder, and the effects never left with time.
After that, you slowly, nor drastically, began walking away. Your behavior should not have been seen as related to that party's events.
If it was so clear to Yunho, was it obvious to everybody else?
Although he was right.
What were you thinking? It is Yunho, we're talking about. He would never leave a problem untouched when he saw one. There was nowhere to run and hide now, and it never had been.
You reached your hand to the light switch and let the room get embraced by darkness. There was no option for him to see the shame on your face when you would be telling him the issue that tormented both of you.
He didn't say anything, handing you the mic.
You walked inside the room and slid to the wall, calling on it for support. You were placed in front of him but at a safe but far distance.
"I love you." You confessed, shaking like a leaf. "I don't know what is happening, but I know I want you so much. Every inch of me craves for you, and I lost all control over my own self when it comes to you to the point I can't sleep at night, eat, or think straight. I've never felt like this before, about anyone. And we're best friends. I have no right…" The guilt caged your voice.
The silence on his side was crushing. That was the end. You had nothing to lose.
You took a deep breath, "That's why I've avoided you and purposely ignored you. I have to stay away, Yunho. For both of our sakes."
You heard him taking a few deep breaths.
"Why didn't you just tell me?" Somehow, his voice bore the accusation.
"I was scared of rejection." You chuckled at your miserable position. "The girls laughed that I sounded absolutely obsessed when I told them about this. They said they were only joking, but I started wondering and got scared. What if I am? You asked if you scared me with something. You didn't. I'm scared of myself. Because…no one sane acts like that. No one sane falls in love with their friend."
As you finished the confession, you dared to look his way. Your eyes got used to the dark, and you managed to see his darkened features.
The left side of his face was slightly illuminated by the dim light coming from the living room. You were watched intensively as he was eyeing you up.
His upper body was leaned forward, his arms resting on his spread knees. He looked…disappointed? Angry? You couldn't really tell. However, his deep breathing betrayed that the chaos you let out in indeed affected him.
The question was how would he accept what you brought upon him.
"I'm sorry." You breathed out on the edge of crying. You felt awful by ruining your amazing friendship. "Truly."
He submerged his finger in his damp fuzzy hair and then proceeded to wipe his face. He seemed deep in thought. You watched how he stroked his thighs a few times before standing up.
"Yunho…" you gulped, seeing him closing the distance between you.
He was getting dangerously close.
"Please, stop."
The man listened to your command. Still, he halted only half a meter from you. Yunho gave you a second to calm down, let your guard down, therefore you had no time for reaction as his arm suddenly reached out for your hand, grabbing your wrist firmly, and began pulling you close to him.
You quietly whimpered, trying to twist your hand out of his grasp, but there was no use. He mercilessly dragged you until your bodies met.
You couldn't look up, not with all the panic thriving inside you. However, he did not mean to stop. You felt his finger underneath your chin, and suddenly, you found yourself looking in his eyes that shone with a new light in the dark room.
"I would never reject you." He let out a firm but gentle whisper. "What do you think that I came here for? To fight for you."
The bangs of his wet hair tickled your forehead. He stood so close to you like he only ever did in your intrusive thoughts and uncontrolled fantasies. You had no choice but to let his scent of cologne and rain embrace you from all sides.
"And if you really think that it's an obsession, don't worry." He spoke again, this time his voice was hoarse as he struggled to speak, his thumb and eyes now wandering around your half opened lips. "I'll take all of it."
The touch of his lips was more than you imagined. You whimpered into his mouth, at which he responded with a smile. You fought not to push him away from the intensity of your surprise. Everything was happening too fast and not how you had seen it in your head for uncountable times when thinking about the face-off.
Yunho kissed you slowly as if he was giving you time to get used to his touch and his taste. He let go of your wrist, and after gently putting your arm around his neck, he carefully wrapped your waist. His other hand moved from your chin on the side of your head. The embrace tightened.
You couldn't say you just allowed him to pull you close to him. You were like a ragdoll. The rollercoaster of severe emotions took away your will to move. He could’ve done anything he wanted to do to you, placed you anywhere he needed you to be. You were completely frozen.
Yunho was considerate of your state and didn’t want to push you. He broke the kiss and pulled his head back to look at you with a slight smile that showed understanding.
"Do you want me to leave you alone? If you need time and talk about it once you’re ready, I’ll wait." He assured you, the gentleness in his tone making your heart flutter. "I’ll wait as long as you need me to."
"I– I don’t know." You stuttered, no volume to your weak voice. "W– what would you want?:
"Can I be indecently honest?"
You nodded, the hope sparking in your heart.
"I want to stay. I missed you so much. For the past months, whenever we met, I felt like you were light years away despite you standing right beside me. So I want to kiss all your doubts and fears away so we both never feel that way again. I want to hold you close, taste you. I want to relearn my name as you moan it all night long. I want you. I've wanted you for so long." He flooded you with the confession that held much more fire and confidence than yours from a minute ago.
You trembled in his arms, grabbing more onto his shirt at his back as he wiped away a single tear that managed to escape and roll on your redden cheek. It felt like a dream, and you felt the familiar anxiety of the moment you would have to wake up as it happened all the time before.
After all these months of pain from keeping yourself away from the man you've been falling in love with, feeling like he was slipping through your hands with your own help, you were a shadow of a woman. You were a ruin.
"What’s your decision?"
But the will to fix everything that was broken smoldered inside you, and you felt that with the right blow of wind, it would turn into impressive flames.
"Stay."
He quickly groaned at your allowance, and your faces got close again. Both his arms now embraced your waist and back.
"Of all the things I just said, which one do you want me to do the most?" He asked, his lips brushing yours.
"Everything." You breathed out without hesitation. Experiencing the long yearning, you needed to feel everything, from innocence to obscene.
Your lips interlocked again, but this time, nothing tamed you for kissing him back as you had always desired.
With every breath between, the kiss was getting hotter, wetter. Your tongues twirled in a wild dance, teeth hooking on each other's lips. With quiet whimpers and moans, you drove each other crazy.
His damp hair was tangled in your inpatient fingers that massaged the back of his head and neck. He moaned in your lips from the affection. The sweet adlip instantly woke up the aching between your legs.
You felt the wall behind your back again. One of his arms left your waist and was placed above your head.
He broke the kiss, "You really thought that Bona's confession meant anything to me?" He panted, his half closed eyes never leaving your lips.
So he found the answer. He did mention he studied all three months of your random change.
"I didn't know what it meant to you. I was too scared to think about it. It just made me realize my feelings for you, and I feared for our friendship."
"And your solution to save our friendship was to stay away?"
"I'm sorry."
He clenched his jaw, and that alone was enough to double your already crazy heart rate. His eyes were pitch black, his brows frowned.
"It makes me really angry." He groaned. "To think your first thought was that I would reject you. That you asked yourself that tough question and saw no hope. That you went for the wrong answer. As if I ever gave you a reason to doubt."
"I'm sorry."
"It's me who's sorry, (y/n)."
You moaned at the speed he attacked your lips again. He didn't graced them for long with his unsatisfied affection as he moved onto your jaw, then sensitive neck.
You felt how his body pinned you to the wall. With the power he pushed into you, he picked you up. You were gasping for air from the waves of pleasure shaking your body as his hungry mouth kissed, licked, and bit on your skin.
"You always smell so fucking good." He cooed sultry, placing his hands under your ass, forcing you to put your legs onto his hips.
He pushed himself with you in his arm off the wall and began walking you two to your bed.
You were released from his tight embrace and let him push you on the sheets. With aw, you watched him remove his shirt, putting his beautifully shaped torso and abs on display.
"Now's your turn." He snarled.
His hands went down to your cotton, loose shirt, and ripped it apart with one pull. Your bare breasts bounced free. You only now remembered you had no bra on.
"Yunho–"
But he didn't care about your surprise. He just gently laid on your side, supporting his weight on his elbow. His chest rubbed on your right breast in a slow massage that had you wave underneath him.
"Goddamn it, (y/n)."
His hand embraced your neck, giving it a little squeeze. You watched it going down to your chest, between your naked breasts, and then lower on your stomach where his wrist twisted to go south. Now, you had his long fingers getting dangerously close to your throbbing folds.
You grabbed the sheets at the touch of his fingertip.
"Ahh.."
"I'm not the one who's getting soaked tonight." He smirked watching how your wetness spread underneath your leggings as his middle finger circled on your clit.
He wanted more, your loud moans too accompanying your flooding nectar. Two fingers decisively entered your pussy as the thumb worked on your pearl.
"Oh my…" you whined, arching your back.
To make your torture more difficult, he leaned his lips to your ear and began feeding your mind with the obscene.
"You're always so wet when I'm on your mind, kitten? Do your fingers fuck this dripping cunt like mine are now when your all alone?" He whispered, his breaths tickling your neck, "I can assure you, I walk hard all day because of you."
The image of him stroking himself fast, rough while moaning your name was a perfect way to bring you closer to the edge as his fingers now fucked you with a full speed.
"Yes." He grunted, satisfied with your whimpers and trembling pelvis. "Cum for me."
Yunho drank the sweetest sounds of euphoria from your lips. Your cute moans were like ambrosis for his ears. He craved for more, his soul, heart, and ego demanded more.
He sucked on the skin of your neck as his hand massaged the last ounces of orgasm from you.
"I dreamed of this so many times (y/n) – my fingers, all sticky and wet from your juices."
"Yunho…" you begged. "Please."
The yearning for him or his words along with skillful touch; you couldn't tell, but something was making you lose your sanity way too fast.
Yunho smug eyes began reading your needs. He just licked his lips before walking away to let the room bask in light again.
With the cover of the dark, you felt more secure. Now you laid there, feeling like there were hundreds of eyes watching you, even though the only person in the room with you was Yunho, who just nonchalantly stood there; one hand on the light switch, and the other, that just were inside you, on his sticked out tongue.
Unconsciously, you began closing your legs, putting hands over your chest, but he was quick to stop you.
He agility climbed on to you. Now you had his weight pinning you down, his slim pelvis between your thighs and his hands holding your hands about your head.
"Don't you even hide from me again." He warned you, looking you deep in the eyes.
His arm found its way under you, and with one pull, he moved you further up the bed before he raised himself and sat on his hills.
"I forgot to ask before ripping off your shirt," he smiled adorably, "but do you cherish your leggings?"
Knowing what was coming and feeling more than just excited about it, you shook your head.
Your soaked leggings and underwear shared the same fate as your shirt. With no hesitation, Yunho grabbed them in his fingers and ripped them apart.
You felt the cold licking your dripping slit, wishing it was that man's tongue.
"I had to turn the light back on." He grinned while studying your quivering folds. "I had to see it in detail."
His brow raised, and his eyes became absent as if they recalled something, a thought he cherished.
"I'm genuinely unable to count how many nights I imagined your taste." He voiced it. "How would you feel on my tongue. So soft and warm."
You shivered at those words. The way he said it, the way he watched you with almost worship… Yunho finally found himself on the spot he longed to be for many months.
"It's all yours." You whimpered.
He looked in your eyes again, searching for a bluff, but he was visibly relieved to see your genuine, needy expression.
"Put your pretty ass up for me, please."
You did what you were told, getting rid of the shirt, well now its shreds. Arching your back as your upper body stretched on the bed, you stuck your slightly circling butt towards him.
A gasp left your mouth as the smack landed on your plump cheek. It was sudden but more than welcomed.
"Somehow, I've always known you're filthy." He snickered, clearly glad of your reaction.
"There are a lot of things you have not found out about me yet." You uttered, biting your lip with a smile.
You flinched from another hit that left a stingy feeling and added another flood of your juices between your thighs. There was no option to not let the moan escape your chords.
"I can say the same about you." He growled as if you were about to learn something forbidden.
You felt how he grabbed your ripped leggings and slid it off your hips, down to your knees.
The warmth of his tongue almost made you cry. You grabbed the sheet between your teeth. Slow, but firm licks were meant to have you beg in a second. However, your taste was too much for Yunho to play the game of teasing any further.
He spread your cheeks and dived in deeper.
The man put his whole spirit to savor you with the way his tongue lapped on your folds, latched on your quivering core. He fed on your uninhibited wails that Yunho could swear were a balm to his heart that almost got broken today if you had not opened the door.
He now knew you were his, the same way he belonged to you. Completely. Equal in this healthy obsession.
The essence on his lips worked like the best aphrodisiac for his nature. He wanted to have you loud in pleasure, trembling in ecstasy. For a moment, he craved to control all over your being. Just so you could feel loved, desired, and perfect. So you could see yourself through his eyes.
His tongue found its way inside you. It was sudden, unexpected but more than appreciated.
"Ahh, yes." You hissed, the sheet ripping in your fists.
Yunho shifted his position to have better access to you. Your eyes rolled back at the depth he was penetrating you with. Long, skillfully muscle waved and curled within your walls.
His thumb began drawing circles around your upper hole. Gently, hesitant at first, but your appreciation for his tease made him brave enough to go inside.
With his tongue and thumb sunk inside, Yunho was at the finish of shaping a devastating orgasm for you.
Your face twisted with unbearable pleasure. Moans sent his way were full of gratitude and admiration for his mastery. For a few moments this man managed to make you feel like flying, see the stars above.
He abandoned your holes when he felt the last shreds of bliss left you. You fell flat on your bed, trying to bring yourself down on earth.
Yunho took his time to climb up your spine with juicy kisses, at the same time getting rid of his pants and underwear.
"Yunho." You called him between deep breaths to calm yourself down.
"Yes, beautiful?' He planted a kiss on your shoulder.
You touched his arm.
"Claim me."
He froze above you. You only felt his hot breath on the back of your neck. Somehow, it had you alerted.
You slowly turned on your back, still caged between his arms. His eyes were dark, full of unknown, to you, thoughts. Maybe what you needed from him sounded too much of a commitment. You confessed your feelings. You made him aware of your love. Yet…he didn't say anything back. Only that he wanted you.
"Will you?" You asked quietly, too scared to put any volume to not scare him away or worse, make him realize it was a mistake.
Still with this mysterious expression, he laid onto you, skin to skin. Your faces so close, you could see your reflection in his eyes.
"Like my life depends on it." He said into your lips, tone heavy with sweet threat. "In fact, it does."
You interlocked in a kiss that felt like a seal to what just occurred rather than simple affection. He kissed you deeply, desperately, but most of all you sensed a gratitude.
His velvet hardness began grinding on your sensitive spot with subtle yet decisive moves, lubricating his length with your wetness in the process.
You broke the kiss from all the air leaving your lungs. He was hard, hot against your skin, begging to enter you. And your pussy cramped at the pleas, more violently each second.
"Please."
He put his forehead to yours. Took a few deep breaths before he finally said:
"I love you."
Only then he allowed himself to push inside.
The words you had wanted to hear for so long and the soul easing fullness have tears falling from your eyes. He groaned at your tightness that engulfed him and spasmed around him. The warmth and your nectars embraced him whole.
You gasped loudly as he moved further, concurring more inches of your inferior. Yunho was exactly how you imagined him to be. Long and thick, with popping veins that rubbed on your walls. You moaned, whined, and squirmed with every push and pull.
"Can I go faster?" He wiped your tears of joy away.
"Yes." You panted. "You can now."
After a slow pull, he pinned into you with power, having you gasp in sudden pleasure.
He leaned on the side, now nuzzling your ear.
"You're taking me so well. I knew you would." He whispered, and if all your nerves weren't already awakened, now they were.
The pace fastened. He was taking you, fully almost possessive. He went deep, attacking your sweet spot with even but strong hits. The sound you made bordered with sobbing.
He raised up on his knees, now straddling your leg. The other one ended up over his shoulder. Only when he re‐entered you, you realized why he chose such a position. He reached depths you didn't know anyone could.
"Fuck." You cried out.
Yunho fucked you however he felt fit, placing kissing on your inner thighs as he hugged your leg while doing it. He winded and whirled his hips as he thrusted inside your defenseless cunt.
The release was approaching with no mercy.
"I'm so close." You grabbed his muscular thigh with both hands.
"I know, baby. I know." He moaned as your walls' texture rubbed onto him even more now that you were almost orgasming. You cramped around him, sucking his width unforgivably.
"Fill me in, please. I need your cum inside me." You couldn’t help but beg when the speed and force he was obliterating you with was too overwhelming. You had to have him burst inside. It was what you mean by claiming you, owning you.
He cursed loudly and leaned over, shifting his weight on his arms.
"You have no idea what you've just started."
The new position allowed the man to put on even more speed and power, pushing you off the cliff, straight to the void of the most heavenly bliss.
The euphoria embraced you from all sides. A flow of your juices flooded his cock, making it harder, too hard to not to explode.
"Oh fuck, yes." He whined and soon joined you in ecstasy. He pumped inside with low grunts leaving his throat, and you melted over the feeling of hot load, every last drop nourishing every corner of you.
He slid out after a few soothing pushes, followed by his semen. Yunho didn't have to watch this physical proof he claimed you. He knew you all his. He just lowered down and caught your weak frame in a tight, warm embrace.
Both calmed yourselves down by inhaling your scents, so familiar yet so new.
His eyes when he finally landed at you were smiling, all dreamy. You knew what Yunho's happy face looked like, and it was all plastered on his features right now.
You felt like your heart was about to burst out of your chest at the sight. He was happy because of you. You made him this joyful.
"You love me." You slipped. The excitement and emotion didn't allow you to keep quiet.
He kissed you and kept smiling.
"You have no idea."
You didn't hide this time when Yunho watched you as if he learned your details by heart. You wanted him to see the woman and all her love she got for him.
"Come." He said and got off the bed. "We both need a long and hot shower."
"Soaking again?" You giggled lazily, admiring this Adonis of a man that now stood in front of you in all his glory. You bit your lips at the view of his glistening pride, knowing it all was for you to love and pleasure.
Seeing your eyes wandering all over him, Yunho couldn't help but smirk at your bluntness. He then leaned over to kiss your forehead.
"Better get used to it."
You realized how stupid you were to think you could live without his melodic laugh.
3K notes · View notes
teeskz · 7 months
Text
Deja Vu: “I want you so bad.”
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» pairing: asshole! wooyoung x fem! reader
» summary: Getting paired with Wooyoung, notorious half-asser and asshole, on your midterm assignment must’ve been karma for something you’ve done in the past, cause god did you luck out bad. He’s constantly late to your meetings, hardly does any work, and on top of that, he teases you like no other. You can’t stand him. Until one day, a storm comes, brewing unfamiliar feelings amongst you two, and what you thought you knew had honestly just turned out to be deja vu.
» word count: ~ 9k (i actually have no idea, i just know it’s long)
» genre & warnings: non-idol au, asshole (most of the time) wooyoung, sub (sometimes) reader, dry humping, grinding, praises, unprotected sex (BAD, DON’T DO IT), rough sex, cream pie, ass & tit slapping, major teasing (both sexually and socially), orgasm denial x3, edging, fingering, dirty talk, overstimulation, reader has a younger face but is of age, mentions of bff!seonghwa, reader is unintentionally cute, minor peer pressure (helps reader get out of her shell/pushy roommate), heavy make out session, whiny wooyoung, sensitive reader
» a/n: when i tell you i am in love with this kind of wooyoung
─ ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ─── ・。゚☆: *.☽ .*.・。゚
Everyone warned you about him.
He’s a handful for sure.
You got him as your partner? Good fucking luck with that.
Be ready to do your half of the load, plus his.
You knew this would happen.
So how come you’re still surprised when at 6:45, Wooyoung strolls into the library, a drink in one hand and his laptop in the other, looking as if he’s ready to work. He should’ve been here 45 minutes ago.
You peer up from your own screen and can’t help but scowl at the boy. Wooyoung also notices you, and instead of feigning remorse a cheesy grin spreads across.
“Look at you being all studious.” He reaches the table you occupied and plops down next to you, parts of his drink splashing onto your bare arm, “How much have you gotten done?”
Adjusting your laptop screen, you hardly spare him a glance as you go back to typing, “Honestly, not that much. It’s hard coming up with research on my own.”
You hope the bitterness came through in your tone and judging by the way Wooyoung guffaws, you could tell it did. He just didn’t care.
“Y/N-ah, why’re you being so cold to me?” His voice is playful, lighthearted even, speaking as if the two of you were friends. Which you’re most certainly not.
Instead of replying, you let your fingers do the talking as they slap the keyboard with clicks, a reminder that you guys need to work and not converse. Does he think you actually want to spend your Friday working on some stupid project? One that’s worth a large chunk of your grade at that.
“I brought you something to drink.” He shoves the cup in your face and you can see the liquid start to turn more opaque as the ice melts. It’s also like 70% gone. Having enough, you harshly face him, the sudden movement causing him to buck backwards.
“Wooyoung, you need to get to work and stop playing around. We don’t have time for this, especially when you decided to show up almost an hour late.” You try to sound authoritative, but that in itself is a bit of a problem for you. Your voice has always been softer than most, so when you do try to take charge, you often get ‘awwws’ of how cute you sound. And you hated that.
It also doesn’t help that you have a rounder and softer looking face for someone your age. If you could count on your fingers the amount of times someone’s asked if you’re touring your college instead of attending it - with them thinking you’re a high schooler, well, you’d probably put around 3 fingers down. But the analogy still stands.
Wooyoung’s no different, him holding back a smile from the way your eyebrows would furrow and how your nose would scrunch whenever you exhibit anger. He found it endearing, actually.
“Okay...you’re clearly mad at me-”
“How can I not be?” You exclaim, “It’s been a week of us working on this project together, and somehow you manage to show up late every time, but it’s never been past 30 minutes. You’re even the one who told me to be here at 6!”
“I have a good reason for being late though.”
With that, you push your computer forwards and lean back in your chair arms crossed, entertaining whatever nonsense was about to spew out of his mouth, “Oh please, I’d love to hear this.”
He mocks your stance, “I was getting chased by a girl.”
You’ve got to be kidding me. You give him a deadpanned expression which causes him to whine.
“No seriously! I was.” In a flash, he pulls out his phone and puts it out for you to see a string of messages.
5:48 PM
WOOYOUNG:
- HYUNG!!!
- i need your help asap
5:49 PM
SEONGHWA:
- huh?
- what’d you do?
5:51 PM:
WOOYOUNG:
- the girl from last weekend’s pissed at me and is looking for me all over campus
- can i pls hide in your dorm?
5:51 PM:
SEONGHWA:
- tf did you do to piss her off?
5:52 PM:
WOOYOUNG:
- i’ll explain later just please let me hideout at your place
- i heard she has a knife
5:52 PM:
SEONGHWA:
- okay fine
5:53 PM:
WOOYOUNG:
- thank you!!
- i’m already outside your door
Admittedly, you were left dumbfounded. So maybe he did have a reason today, but that doesn’t excuse all of the other times. Wooyoung slips his phone back into his hoodie pocket while you go to ask the obvious question.
“What did you do to make this girl mad?”
He blows out a hard breath, as if even thinking about her is such a hassle, “We hooked up last week and I told her I didn’t wanna see her again. So, this is how she reacted.”
You purse your lips out, “Well, maybe she was hoping to gain something out of it. You know, there are nicer ways to phrase ‘I’m not ready for a relationship’ that don’t involve the girl getting hurt.”
“Why should I care about her feelings?” His words are icy, though it seems to be directed towards you, “I told her upfront I didn’t want anything more, it was only supposed to be sex. I asked her if she could handle that and she said yes. If she went ahead and caught something for me, that’s not my fucking problem.”
Once he was done, Wooyoung reels himself in. The realization that you weren’t, in fact, the psycho chick that had been chasing after him earlier dawns on him as you silently nod in agreement. If he had been clear on his intentions since the start, then there wasn’t really much you could say against him.
“I didn’t know that, sorry for jumping to conclusions.” You sound more sad then you meant to and reach out for your computer.
After a beat his sour look turns sweet again, another playful smile returning, “Oh Y/N-ah, don’t apologize for that. I’m sorry for getting worked up.”
“Your frustrations understandable, especially if you’d been real with her from the beginning. Frankly, she should’ve expected that.” Shrugging your shoulders, you go to work again, now noticing the time hit 7:18 PM. You had about 12 minutes to get Wooyoung to do something, but that probably won’t happen.
He cheers your name loudly, happy that you and him agree on a topic for once and the librarian on standby hisses at him to quiet down while throwing a nasty glare.
The two of you exchange glances before both quietly laughing, you going back to finishing one of your paragraphs for your thesis while he simply sat and watched.
«—————————»
The next time you were supposed to meet with Wooyoung, you receive a text from him hours before your designated time.
12:07 PM
WOOYOUNG:
- pls no library today
12:09 PM
YOU:
- what was wrong with it last time?
12:10 PM
WOOYOUNG:
- the old hag yelled at me
- i’m not dealing with that again
12:11 PM
YOU:
- well tbh you aren’t the quietest person to have around
12:11 PM
WOOYOUNG:
- sorry we all cant be mouses like you
12:13 PM
YOU:
- ignoring that
- how about the cafe nearby?
12:14 PM
WOOYOUNG:
- ugh the coffees gross
- and psycho chick works there
- hell. no.
12:15 PM
YOU:
- oh then def not there, where do you wanna meet then?
12:17 PM
WOOYOUNG:
- just come over to my apartment
- i would suggest your place but i don’t feel like going out
12:18 PM
YOU:
- what if i don’t feel like going out
12:18 PM
WOOYOUNG:
- who wears the pants in this friendship?
12:20 PM
YOU:
- there is no friendship
12:21 PM
WOOYOUNG:
- still don’t wanna admit we’re friends…..
- it’s bad enough you pretend to not know who i am around others
- makes me sad
12:24 PM
YOU:
- does it actually?
12:26 PM
WOOYOUNG:
- no 😛
- come over at 7
12:27 PM
YOU:
- alright fine
Even though you agreed to 7, you actually intended on getting there around 7:10. Hopefully the taste of his own karma would help him learn to respect others times and not waste a second of it.
Throughout the day, while doing your mundane tasks, the text messages between you and Wooyoung keep circling your thoughts. Mainly towards the end.
You and him haven’t established a clear relationship, so that’s why you denied his friendship claim. In all honesty, he just didn’t seem like one to you. But after what happened at the library, a part of you can possibly start to think differently.
Yet your mind races at the possibility you had actually hurt his feelings. It’s not a secret that you two are partners, so whenever you do deny his existence, many people laugh off your comment as a joke. Which for the most part it is. Had you been going too far with that?
Then again, this is Wooyoung you’re talking about. He hardly takes anything serious. Not even a project that’s worth more than half of his final grade. You’re probably just overthinking it, no need to stress out over this.
Telling yourself that, you continue to busy yourself with random tasks till around 6:30, which also happens to be the time your roommate arrives back from wherever she had left early this morning.
“Hey, where are you about to go?”
She asks as she notices you picking out a sweatshirt to wear, already having on light flared jeans. She comes up behind you and lands a loud smack on your ass and you fake cry. This is not a first time offense.
“Wooyoung wants to meet at his place for our project.” You look between two sweatshirts in your hands, a light grey and black.
Your roommate throws herself onto your bed since hers is barely visible due to the abundance of clothes occupying it. But then she pauses for a moment, rethinking over what you just said, “Wait, you’re going to his apartment?”
You nod absentmindedly, still deciding on which clothing option to wear.
“Is he trying to fuck you?”
Now that snaps you out and you dart your eyes to her, “What?! Absolutely not.”
She sits up now, legs crisscrossed as she becomes engross in the conversation, “Y/N, he 100% is! You’ve guys been studying at the same two places for the past week, now suddenly he wants to change locations? To a more secluded place? Sounds sketchy as hell.”
You’re quick to discard that, “It’s because he doesn’t wanna go out today. Plus, Wooyoung has his reasonings for not liking our usual spots.”
Her eyes do a dramatic roll, “Right, just as I’m sure he had his reasonings for being an hour late last Friday.”
You had been texting your roommate up until Wooyoung’s arrival, frustration running into the ground. But you also told her he had a legit excuse later on. So, she’s clearly not the biggest fan of him.
“Don’t say such things. And besides the seclusion will probably help us work better.” You finally choose to go with the black sweatshirt and put back the grey.
“Or it’ll help when your screaming his name and no one will be around to hear it.”
“Hey!”
She throws her hands up innocently, though nothing’s innocent about what’s coming out of her mouth, “I’m just saying! The possibility isn’t a no.”
“To me it is! Plus, he doesn’t even see me like that. Just as a friend…..sorta. Well, that’s not really the case for me. But it’s- you know what, never mind.” You finish putting on the sweatshirt and do your go-to style for your hair, something quick.
“Okay, well can you at least prepare better just in case you guys are gonna bone?”
You just shake your head in disbelief that this conversation is even happening, while she gets up and begins rummaging through the pile on her bed. When her hands come out again, they’re gripping a lacy tank top and matching underwear.
If you thought this couldn’t get any worse, it just has significantly.
“You’re not serious….” You shake your head once more, disbelief clouding your mind again.
“Y/N go put this on right now!” Before you had a chance to protest, she’s pushing you into your closet, throwing the clothes at you before locking the door and turning the lights on from outside.
“You’re crazy! I thought you don’t even like Wooyoung, why’re you so on board with this non-existent idea?!” You yell.
“Cause, even if he is an asshole, he’s still hot! And the perfect gateway into the hookup culture you’ve always wanted to be apart of since freshman year!”
You mentally curse yourself for wanting to have a ‘hoe phase’ and for sharing that with your roommate. That was forever ago anyways, surely she would’ve realized you grew up since then. Once you realize your roommate is dead set on not letting you out, you sigh annoyingly. She is insane.
But as you begin to caress the fabric, your mind begins to race. You had absolutely no intention of getting with Wooyoung, not now or ever. You don’t even consider him a friend! Yeah, he’s extremely attractive, and maybe even your type.
However, that doesn’t make up for how much he irks your soul, and you could swear up and down that you dislike him.
Maybe that’s why it would be perfect, the voice inside of you starts, no extra feelings attached, and no one has to get hurt like psycho crazy girl.
You bit your lip at the thought. Would he even hook up with someone like you? You don’t think you’re exactly his type.
………oh who’re you kidding, he’d probably mess with anything that has a hole.
“Don’t overthink it, if you feel the moment happening, jump on it. If not, then let it ago.” Your roommate adds more encouragement.
Suddenly switching your brain off, you strip off you clothes, removing the current underwear for the newer kind. You toss back on your other clothes before begging your roommate to let you out.
She opens the door but stops you in your tracks, “Now hold on, before you go let me see that you have it-”
You lift up your shift to reveal the tight material straining against your skin. You felt your breasts were gonna pop out at any second.
Your roommate gapes at you then goes to quickly put your shirt down, “Oh wow, I almost just said something I might’ve…...anyways you look fucking amazing.”
“Aww, thank you.” A tiny smile spreads across your face and your roommate resists the urge to pinch your cheeks.
“Okay, what time are you’re suppose to meet him?”
You glance over at your clock which reads 7:01 PM, “Hmmm, about right now.”
She tells you to hurry out of here but before you get the chance to, she walks over to the window and takes a peak, “Hey, have you checked the weather?”
“No, why?” It had been sunny all today there was really no point.
Your roommate holds back saying something, her gaze going over to your closet, “I think you should wear the grey sweatshirt.”
«———————————»
You were going to kill you roommate. The funeral’s been planned out, you already knew the casket color - burnt siena - and all you needed was the body. She is so dead.
You knock ferociously at Wooyoung’s door, at such a rate that someone could mistake you for one of his many, many girls. The door swings open, a freshly showered Wooyoung standing on the other side.
“Y/N-ah, why’re you so angry all the ti-” His eyes go wide at the sight of you. Your once neat hair all messy and soaked from the rain. The sweatshirt your roommate suggested had turned a much darker grey while your light pants were splattered in raindrops.
The worst part about it all, the rain started just as you were approaching his street, and it came down in waterfalls. You were already too far to turn around and grab an umbrella.
“I don’t. Wanna. Talk about it.” You roughly push past him and into his apartment, which you would normally stop to admire the niceness of it if you weren’t so upset. His living room and kitchen’s clean and modern, a TV playing some movie in the background.
“I feel like I could make a joke, but this is just too easy,” You toss a harsh glare over your shoulder at him as he closes and bolts his door, him shuddering at your expression, “Is this why you were late? I was counting every second.”
You highly doubt that’s true, “No, my roommate and I got to talking about…something.”
He tsks, running the white towel over his damp hair, “You know for every minute you were late, I say you deserve a spanking.”
If not for you roommate, that statement wouldn’t have illicit more than a scowl from you, maybe even an eye roll. But your mind trails off to you bent over his lap while he counts the number of times his palm hits your flesh.
And you feel your face immediately burn so you turn away, “If that’s the case, you’d probably wouldn’t be able to walk for like a week.”
With your back facing him, Wooyoung’s eyes linger down to your ass, and how full it looks in those pants. Dammit, he told himself he wouldn’t think of you in that way. And that spanking comment completely slipped out, but now he’s wishing he hadn’t said anything. His thoughts are truly something else.
“Where should we work?” You ask, desperately needing a change in subject.
He seems to be cleared from his own thoughts and he leads you to his living room where his laptop’s already set up with your guys’s work document. Hey, talk about efficient.
Wooyoung drops to the couch and you sling off your backpack, going to follow his lead when a foot comes in contact with your ass.
“Sorry, but I can’t have you sitting on the couch.” He slowly lowers his leg and you scoff lightly, your face doing the thing it does when you get angry. It kills him inside each time.
“Well, what am I supposed to do? I don’t have a spare change of clothes.”
Just as quickly as he sat down, Wooyoung’s back up again and tells you to follow him to his bedroom. Outside, you can hear the wind start to pick up, mixing with the treacherous rain.
“You can borrow a shirt from me, but I’m kinda low on bottoms.” He says as he yanks open a clearly broken drawer and begins looking for a suitable replacement.
He pulls out a ratty, white tee and tosses it on your face, you hearing him laugh at you as he makes his way out the door. You rip the shirt off with a huff, “Thank you for this.”
His eyes do a quick motion back to you before smiling his usual, playful grin, “That’s what friends are for.”
And he goes to exit again, leaving you alone to change. Trying your best to ignore the way your stomach buzzes at the remembrance of his smile, you pull off you own wet shirt and replace Wooyoung’s dry one, his scent engulfing you the minute it’s on you. You thought you could get drunk of this.
And as for pants, well, your jeans didn’t get as much damage as your top, so it should be fine. You work your way back to the living room, Wooyoung actually working diligently for the first time in ages.
“Whatcha doing?” You take the only open seat next to him on the cushion, but whatever change of heart you had towards him dissipates in a matter of seconds as he flips his screen to show you some clothing store he’d been browsing.
“Do you think this would look nice on me?”
You stare at him blankly before giving him a half-hearted answer. That seems to do the trick as he twists his computer and goes back to typing, most likely still not working. You open your own laptop and begin immediate research, the sounds of clicks filling the air as if you’re both competing for which one is the most significant.
An hour goes by, then two, then three, till next thing you know it’s 11 o’clock at night and the only thing left of your paper is the conclusion, which you tasked Wooyoung with since no one knows all that he’s really done.
“Holy shit! I can’t believe we’re almost finish with this.” He sighs happily into the couch while you shoot him a face. He instantly backtracks and rephrases his sentence into something more accurate, where he’d actually given you more credit.
“This feels like the longest paper I’ve ever written,” You huff as you layback alongside Wooyoung.
“Yeah, well,” He regards you and you meet his gaze, a tiny smile breaking out, “I know you did a great job. You’re an awesome researcher.”
The words could make you melt on sight, “Wooyoung, you’re too sweet.”
At the sight of your genuine smile, he felt as if his heart was going to leap out his chest. Damn you and you’re cuteness.
“Here I thought you couldn’t wait to rid me of your time.” You say as you snicker at your own joke. Definitely was the other way around.
“Well, don’t count on that. Trust me when I say, you’ll never get rid of me.” A devilish grin overtakes him and you roll your eyes, playfully this time. Maybe there is a part of you that’s starting to warm up to him.
“It’s probably time for me to go, it’s past 11.” When you go to stand, you hear Wooyoung whine behind you, begging you to stay longer. It’s just him being bored, don’t overthink it.
Right as you go to pick up your bag, a flash of lightning followed by loud thunder stop you in your step. With the time you spent with Wooyoung, you’d completely forgotten that a literal thunderstorm had been conjuring outside.
“Where’d you park?” He asks as he goes to stand next to you, trying to see out of the window of the blinds but even that had been barricaded by water.
“Oh, uhh, I actually didn’t drive. I walked here from my dorm.” You begin to think about how you’d get home. The bus normally comes around 12, so you could just wait under the bus stop to get out of his hair-
“You better not be considering leaving,” He chastises and when you make a guilty face he’s shocked, “Are you kidding me? I’m not letting you go out there.”
“I don’t wanna be in your way anymore, I’m sure you’re tired of me enough.” You rebut with wide eyes that make it hard for him to look away.
“Don’t make up lies, Y/N-ah, that’s what bad people do.”
Why does he do this to you? Treat you like you don’t know that there’s wrong in the world, like your sheltered. You stick your hip out and cross your arms, “Who’s to say I’m not bad.”
That sentence alone was enough to get him to laugh as if he’d been holding one in for a while, “Yeah, okay. I’ll go get my room ready for you.”
You trail him like a puppy as he goes down the hall and into his bedroom, “Hey, I didn’t agree.”
“And I don’t remember caring if you did.” He picks up the little trinkets off the floor before switching his pillows out with new ones.
You trot behind him, “Then if that’s the case, you take your bed. I can’t kick you of here.”
“You’re not kicking me out, I already gave the room to you.” He moves onto collecting a blanket from his closet then proceeds out into the living room again with, surprise surprise, you close by.
“Wooyoung this isn’t fair, I feel bad.”
He drops the cover then whips around to face you, his eyes burning deep into yours, “Where do you want me to sleep if you’re taking the bed then, huh?”
“Don’t overthink it, if you feel the moment happening, jump on it.”
Your roommate said this to you and boy if this doesn’t feel like a moment. Your eyes drop down slightly, then off to the side before landing back on Wooyoung, “You could….oh I don’t know, just stay in the room with me.”
He halts in place, trying to register if he just heard you correctly, “Stay with you……?”
You rapidly shake your head yes because you aren’t too confident your mouth could say much more. He pushes his tongue against his mouth, obviously lost in thought, and you briefly look at the movement. You must’ve turned into a huge pervert in the span of 4 hours because just the sight of that is enough to make your heart race.
“I normally don’t sleep with classmates, but I think I can make an acceptation for you.”
You flick him in the chest at his comment, him immediately laughing. And while part of you felt that was the proper response on your behalf, another hated how you knew he was joking. Like he could never even imagine you in that kind of way.
“Alright, let’s go back to the room then.”
This time you lead the way, with Wooyoung immediately stripping once he steps foot into the room. At the removal of his shirt, you spot a gold chain dangling from his neck, which you felt was a good fit for him. He goes all the way down to his boxers, a classic plaid mix with colors, and your eyes widen at how casual he’d just done it. Though, you don’t completely mind.
“Oh yeah, I get hot easily so sometimes I like to prepare. .” Without another second to waste, he hops into his side of the bed, “Don’t let me stop you though, okay Y/N-ah?”
You don’t even respond as hastily you turn around and fiddle with the button of your jeans. It’s now or never. You pull your pants down, around your ass and past your thighs till they pool around your ankle. You step out of them then bend down to retrieve, folding and placing them on a nearby chair.
“Did you wear that underwear just for me?” He’s teasing you, just like always, though this time you don’t have a comeback. You really had worn these just for him.
He picks up on your no-reply and could tell there’s a sense of something in the air that wasn’t there before.
When you turn back around, Wooyoung’s eyes are glued to you, more specifically towards your legs. You don’t get into bed immediately, instead watching him to see his reaction. Is this where everything goes downhill?
He rakes his eyes upwards till they land on your gaze and it appears he’s confirmed something in them, not playing around or joking. That you’re dead serious. Your heart rate accelerates and his lingering stare is starting to make you curdle.
After a beat his body weakens, “Come here.” His finally says. His voice is strained quietly, speaking as if you’d break if he were any louder. And so you do, leisurely, stalling.
You reach the side of the bed and he motions you to continue. You dip a knee into the mattress before placing your other, then again slowly make your way over to him.
Stopping right in front of his face, his arms reactively go up to grab at you but he stops himself midway. You can tell he’s asking for full permission, and attempting to calm your breathing you give a nod of approval.
His hands grip the back of your thigh, sinking into the skin, before making you straddle him. You sit perched up and toying with your fingers, then decidedly to rest them across his bare shoulders.
“You know I was just messing with you?” He starts, forcing you to give him your attention.
“You always do.” You’re tone sounds neutral thank goodness, but your goddamn pouty lips make you look like your frowning. Or to Wooyoung, kissable as fuck.
Chuckling gently, he bites his lip to stop him from smiling too much, “Yeah, that’s true. But this time it didn’t seem like just teasing to you.”
You feel his hands rub against your thighs, not working their way up, just caressing them while he keeps his eyes locked on you.
“I….” You already knew saying it aloud would sound weird, “I wasn’t sure where tonight was gonna take us.”
He continues to knead into your skin while you go to play with his chain, awaiting his response. You never would’ve imagined this is how the two of you would end up, but damnit if there’s not a part that just excites you a little about it all.
“Did you think we were….” He allows the words to hang in the air but you knew too well what he meant. So you shyly respond, affirming his suspicion.
Wooyoung sighs downward, looking like he just a lost a battle. “I told myself I wouldn’t do anything with you, scolded myself even.”
His words definitely are a shock to you, you stopping your fiddling on his chain to give him your full attention again, “What do you mean?”
“You’re just too cute, Y/N-ah, how could I not think about you in those kinds of ways,” his eyes are back on you, large and dark with plead, “But even when we got paired up together, I told myself to not do anything stupid. Because you don’t deserve that.”
The confession makes your head spin while watching him even more intensely.
“Are you sure this is something you want? If we do this, I promise you I’m not gentle and I don’t have any intention on being so.” He waits for your response but your mind is still murky from his previous statements. What does all of this mean? What was he trying to tell you?
You study him further. The softening of his eyes deepening the longer you two sit in silence. How his now dried hair hangs flowy on his forehead. His skin is clear with full lips. An absolutely gorgeous sight to take in. He’s absolutely gorgeous.
So much so in fact, that you don’t spare another second before leaning in to touch his lips with your own. And he’s quick to react, reciprocating the action in an instant.
It feels as if any previous doubts in your mind just fade out, leaving you with the blissful feeling of Wooyoung. He kisses you like he’s starved. Not sloppy, but uniformed. Almost like he’s been waiting for this and doesn’t want to mess up.
Your mouth moves perfectly with his, and you start tilting your head to either side. He copies your action and the two of you begin to get completely absorbed in the make out.
The hands on your legs work their way up, snaking behind you to cup your ass. He’s had literal dreams of this, and how your ass would feel in his hands. But those don’t compare, can’t compare, to how euphoric he feels in the moment.
When Wooyoung slips his tongue in your mouth, ever so slightly, the minor action causes you to whine a bit, his own groan buzzing into you. You feel some growth in his lap, soon a hardness pressing in your inner thigh.
Your breathing becomes irregular as random sounds emit from you, loving the way your core reacts accordingly to the pleasure. You don’t think you’ve ever been this turned on so quickly. Without even realizing you start to feel friction build from underneath you, now catching onto your hips rolling against his lap.
He starts to take charge though, grabbing and moving your ass to further grind into him. You break away first at the new sensation, huffing and hipping lightly while you struggle to keep your eyes open. Wooyoung takes notice in the way your expression looks so overwhelmed and just so damn cute.
“You like grinding on my cock?” The words tumble out as he flops his head against the headboard, “We haven’t even done anything and you look like you’re already gonna cum.”
His words are ammo to you, fueling you to gyrate faster while your hands go up above his head. He bites his lip, hard, to stop a loud groan from escaping
“You can’t cum just yet, Y/N-ah.” The sentence is more airy, like he’s struggling himself with the pleasure. You still continue though, too caught up in your satisfaction to notice him hoist an arm around your back and flip you face up onto the bed.
He lands between you, throwing in more clothed thrusts while holding in a smile at your reaction, a mix between lust and anger.
“What-” He bucks particularly hard into it your core that you thought you were going to orgasm right there, “Nrgh! What was that for?”
Wooyoung dips his head down to your cheeks, kissing them tenderly before scooting towards your ear. He eases up on the thrusts too until the two of you work at an equal, tiny pace, “I couldn’t have you cumming, not when I finally get to enjoy this.”
He wiggles down a bit till he reaches your stomach, taking the fabric of your shirt between his fingers and lifting it up towards your mouth. You gladly accept it, him shoving the tee until your mouth was full.
When he glances back down, your top now fully in view, his eyes almost bulge out of his head.
"Holy..." He drags his fingers up the curve of your waist to your outer breasts, which are practically spilling out of the tight shirt, "You wore this for me?"
He smirks up at you and your eyebrows furrow at the bad joke. He's lucky your mouth's being occupied at the moment.
Wooyoung goes back to admiring you, craning his neck up to place open kisses on the soft flesh that pokes out before working his way to in between your cleavage.
Your heavy breathing, though muffled, is still audible enough for him to hear, lifting his head up quickly to speak to you, "I think those are gonna be my favorite noises."
You dismiss him, grabbing the back of his head to push him back into you. Wooyoung laughs at your neediness and eagerly goes into your tits again.
The feeling starts to build again in your heat, with you gradually increasing your movements against him. He responds to you by rolling himself further between your legs in a rhythm, the sloppy sounds of him kissing and sucking at you still filling your ears.
You've always been a quick pleaser, not typically lasting more than 15 minutes when pleasuring yourself.
If Wooyoung hadn't changed positions earlier, you most likely would've finished like that, which for the record you were perfectly contempt with.
But now everything feels like so much. So much happening at once that the desperation to spill over comes clawing out.
Wooyoung doesn't let that happen though, letting up once he felt you grinding even harder into him. A single string of spit still connecting to your breasts hangs past his mouth, another all-knowing grin plastered on.
"Someone's a little quick on the trigger." Throwing caution to the wind, he sticks a hand against the middle of your underwear, making you squirm on the spot, "Oh, I can see why. You're fucking soaked."
You mumble out a reply but he pretends he doesn't understand, which to be fair he probably doesn't.
"Sorry, I didn't catch that. Say it again for me." This time he pulls your shirt out, your own little spit string dropping down to your chin.
You gasp harshly, "You're so mean, Wooyoung."
He peers back to your face, staring intently at you when his fingers below push rather deep into your underwear, the action causing you to hike up and grimace, “Hmmm….yeah, I guess I can be.”
In no time his mouth is back between your cleavage as his fingers work your clothed core. You think your hearts gonna explode from overstimulation. You wiggle yourself against his hand, twitching when he starts to move your fabric to the side.
The bare touch he has brings such a feeling you’ve never experienced, making you shiver. The way he would cup your pussy momentarily before releasing, rubbing at your clit again then repeating it all once more. Honestly you thought you were game over.
Till Wooyoung takes his hand away from you fully and sits up. Your face drops at the absence of his touch.
“Hey, what’d I say?” He fakes an angry expression before cracking out into a playful one, “You can’t cum just yet, I haven’t even fucked you.”
He notices the greediness in your eyes, the way you’ve only been concerned on getting yourself off and not him. And he’s not even mad at you for it, finding it rather enticing the desperation you have. Actually, it’s turning him on so fucking much.
“Look at this.”
His voice is authoritative, and when you don’t look exactly where he wants you to, he roughly grabs your hand to palm him through his boxers, “I’m leaking right now and I haven’t even taken my cock out.”
The wetness permeates to your fingertips and you quiver, a sudden sensation taking over. Like you want him inside of you right now.
“I’m gonna pound you until you’re shaking from me,” He wraps his arms underneath you to hoist you up, twisting you around till you’re on all 4’s, “So no orgasming. At least until I say so.”
You go to speak when a hand pushes your head down into a pillow, automatically arching your back with your ass poking out. Your underwear spreads across your cheeks which causes Wooyoung to sigh happily, “I could look at your sexy ass forever.”
“Wooyoung-ah,” You heave, already waiting too long for him, “Hurry up.”
Your voice again was never rude, but it did come off as whiny. He goes to make your wish come true but before that, he lands a harsh smack against your plush skin.
“Fuck, it even jiggles. Y/N-ah, you’re gonna make me cum on myself.” His words make your eyes flutter, swearing that if he kept talking you’d be done for, again.
“Need you in me…..please.” Your last attempt at pleading does the trick for you, with him bringing your underwear down to your knees. He positions himself behind you as he goes to pull down his boxer shorts.
“No more stalling starting right now.” A stroke of dick sends tingles down his spin, then, of course, he toys with your entrance.
Sliding just barely his damp head into you before swiftly pulling it out, rubbing his full length on your pussy lips. He taunts you in a manner that you couldn’t even verbally protest cause it still felt so good.
“I….” Your voice trails off from his continued teasing but that does stop him from being curious.
“Mmm, what’s that?” There’s no edge to his tone this time. If anything, he presents himself softer and more genuine.
You choke on your breath, “I’ve never wanted someone so bad before.” Wooyoung hears the possessiveness in your voice and just like that, his facade comes crumbling down, reaching his breaking point.
If only you’d understand how true those words are for himself.
“Okay,” he pause himself to readjust, “I’m actually gonna fuck you into the sheets now.”
Before he does, his reaches a hand to grab your hair, twisting it to pull you back, “Just let me know when to stop.”
You nod as your consent, which then Wooyoung throws your head back down and brings your waist further up.
He gives no warning when he thrusts himself fully deep into your core, the motion causing your head to almost drive into the headboard.
“Oh my….you’re so damn tight.” His own eyes practically roll back at the feeling of your walls around him, and he almost doesn’t wanna move.
But then you wiggle your hips in need of some friction, and soon he begins to pound into you, just like he said he would.
It starts off slow, him letting the action run through you as your slickness spreads across his cock. You even have the strength to rock with him though you weren’t sure how much longer that would last.
He’s holding onto your waist for support, but then switches one of them to the headboard above, sort of mimicking your earlier position.
His head becomes dizzy with your soft, tiny groans and the slapping sound of his skin against yours as a background.
“S-Shit, think you’re gonna make me…..” Wooyoung becomes too enveloped in the sensation, the intensity from you both, to even finish the sentence.
He gets faster while you grow more limp. Your own pleasure starts to consume you and soon you don’t have the willpower to move. He looks down briefly to your ass, taking the hand from your waist to slap your cheeks.
“Ah!” You gulp in for air, “shit….”
“Oh you like that?” Another one lands on you, though this had some sting behind it. But you love it, “Told you, you needa spankin.”
He doesn’t stop there. Grasping at your tits in front, he forcefully tugs your tank top downwards till they fall out, “Need both.”
Then, he unleashes a smack onto your breasts, this round making you cry aloud, “Wooyoung!”
“You’re so cute, Y/N-ah.” He roughly grabs your mounds of flesh and shakes them, “I love your body so damn much, could fuck you all the time.”
He goes back to fucking you, but your mind wanders. You want to ask if he truly means that, but when a particularly hard thrusts sends you soaring out of your stars, you’re quick to forget.
There’s a build up approaching and your cunt feels extra sensitive from the previous activities. You’ve surprised yourself by lasting this long, but you know your end is near.
“Woo, can I-” The words get caught in your throat and instead you croak them out.
He knows exactly what you want though, and how to give it to you. He folds himself over to completely engulf you, him wrapping both arms around your stomach. He’s still pumping in and out yet his pace has increased significantly, “Yeah, yeah you can cum now. You’ve been such a good girl.”
With his permission you let go, allowing yourself to succumb to the intoxicating heat spreading all around. Wooyoung’s breathing is present behind you as he struggles to find his own regular pattern.
He’s whining, though quietly, into your shoulder, muttering small praises, “Fuck, you’re so good. So damn good. You’ll never let anyone else have you, right?”
He drives his hips continuously as you utter incoherent nonsense, “Promise me no one else will ever see you like this. Can you do that for me?”
You can hardly muster a reply but after a few more gasps it come out, “I promise.”
Your eyes begin to flutter while Wooyoung peppers small kisses down your spine, “You’re mine now.”
And just like that, your orgasm hits like a tidal wave, just a massive explosion causing you to shake. The feeling of your walls contracting around his cock causes Wooyoung to finish too, the two of you cumming in sync. He continues to fuck you through your orgasm, and you whimper loudly.
You’ve never had one hit you so intense before, and even Wooyoung’s load is more than usual as he fills you up, your cunt milking his dick in pulses.
You try to draw out your pleasure for as long as possible, taking a mental note of the whole night until slowly you come down from your high.
Wooyoung finishes as well, his hips growing slow until he finally stops. Instead of removing himself immediately however, he takes in the feeling of him still buried in you, loving how warm you feel. You both breathe heavy and you feel him clench his arms around you.
After regaining your composure, you flop down onto his bed, Wooyoung following close behind you. He lands on top of you and sighs, “You’re probably the best fuck I’ve ever had.”
You giggle lightly, “Is that so?”
“Oh yeah,” He plants another kiss this time on your inner neck, “And I’m definitely your last.”
At that, you crane your neck to him, leisurely turning over as he scoots back slightly, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
His hair is now slightly wet from sweat, showing just how much effort he put in, “Cause, you’re never getting cock from anyone else again. If you want it, you have me.”
The smile that spreads afterwards is shit-eating and mischievous. You’re amused by this but don’t oppose it, and Wooyoung senses your acceptance at his declaration.
He drops down to your lips, kissing you in such a passion that felt had a little more to it than he’s willing to show and maybe you don’t want him to. At least, not right now.
Just as you start to get into it, he breaks away, “Wait, I remembered something.”
“What is it?” Your cock your head to the side a bit in confusion, an act that briefly makes him put his guard down. But he quickly regains it, and scoots down towards the end of the bed.
He takes ahold of your back thighs and pushes them towards you, your legs reactively parting slightly. He then moves your knees apart and creates an open view for himself to your pussy.
There's an audible groan, "Oh fuck, I need to burn this image in my head.”
His cum leaking out of you combined with your puffy cunt practically makes him hard again. He continues praising you and gloats about how fuckable your cunt is.
Your face burns as you can’t help but cower from the attention, but apart of you knows you’ll be getting more of this in the future.
Better start getting used to it now.
- Bonus -
When you wake up again, it’s to your phone violently ringing off in the distance. You feel a heavy arm slung over you and it takes you a minute to realize Wooyoung is nestling between your neck with a leg on top of yours, out like a light.
Still groggy, you sit up, some surprise coursing through you as you notice your lack of clothing. But that didn’t matter as of right now. All you want is to find this phone and shut it the hell up.
You aimlessly search through the comforter, then bending over to reach the ground when you see a light being covered by your jeans pocket.
Now you have to get up and actually go retrieve the device, something you do then your back onto the bed.
The photo ID is of you and your roommate 2 years ago when you guys first met in high school. A memory you’d rather forget from when she took you fishing for the first time with her family. Your eyes also dart up to the time which reads 2:43 AM.
Oh gosh.
You press the answer button, “Hello-”
“What the hell is wrong with you?! I’ve been texting and calling you for the past 2 hours and I was getting worried!”
You wince at her shouting, holding the phone a way from your ear slightly, “Sorry, sorry. The storm got really bad so Wooyoung offered to let me sleep here. I should’ve told you that-”
“Damn straight you should’ve! Had me thinking the fucker kidnapped you or something, you’re so reckless.”
Your eyebrows furrow, minor irritation pricking at you for her earlier stunt, “Okay, I get where you’re coming from, but you’re the one who knew it was gonna rain. Why would you let me wear grey-!”
“Oh come on, you are not bringing that up right no-”
Your phone gets plucked out of your grasp and soon you hear the end-call noise. You look over at Wooyoung who’s resting up on his forearms, your phone in a hand with your call gone from the screen.
“She’s really loud, woke me up from our nap time.” He mutters then goes searching through your phone before he appears to type out something.
“Wooyoung!” Your shock subsides as the realization of what he’d just done dawns on you, “You can’t hang up on her, she’s my roommate.”
He just shrugs his shoulders, your scolding rolling off of him, “I just did though, plus shouldn’t she be asleep right now? It’s too late for you girls to be up.”
You scowl at him when he glances up at you, shooting you a tiny smile. Then he hands out your phone and you take it skeptically, “What’d you do?”
“Relax, I just told your roommate you’d talk to her in the morning. She needs to take a chill pill, texting you 47 times, holy shit.”
You graze through the messages and see all of the texts she’d sent asking about your whereabouts and then you see the one Wooyoung sent merely seconds ago.
“Hey, come back to bed, you need sleep.” He attempts to pull you back to him and you allow him to, falling down into his chest.
And that’s how you spend the rest of the night, safe in Wooyoung’s arms.
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atozfic · 7 months
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splish splash.
pairing. san x seonghwa x wooyoung x yunho x fem!reader synopsis. they’re out to prove who’s the best at the breast-stroke- gets dragged off stage as the people boo over such a terrible pun. warnings. no use of y/n, swim team au, lifeguard!reader, pro-swimmers!sanhwawooho, they’re all wearing speedos :), smut ( porn with unnecesary plot, degradation, m+f oral sex, piv sex, anal sex, double penetration, triple penetration bc u got 3 holes for a reason sweetcheeks, mxm interactions, dom/sub dynamics, spanking, hair pulling, way more warnings that there’s honestly no point listing, just know this is pure filth that covers most bases of stereotypical fanfiction smut, mother in christ what have i written? ) no verbal consent is given throughout this but all parties are willing participants !! word count. 20k+ ( of literal porn. i need to leave this physical terrain bc i am not worthy of existing after writing this i fear. ) hyde’s input. hey girlie pops, long time no see.
it’s crazy, what some people will do for money.
take, for example, your roommate. she’s a smart girl. a beautiful one, too. with a promising future in criminal law, once she gets herself that pesky little degree. and, yet, she’s funding her tuition with money she earns distributing high-end drugs on campus. rather counter-productive, most would agree. or, in a far less extreme version, there’s that overly-hyper frat boy, who can always be found doing the dumbest dares at a party, all for a few bucks and a keg of beer.
and then there is you.
you would have arrived home twenty minutes ago at this point, had things gone to plan, a backlog of neglected assignments and a baby bonsai tree in need of watering desperately awaiting your return. yet here you are, stuck in your ugly flip-flops and uncomfortably stale shorts, whistle around your neck and a look of exhaustion on your face.
the swimming pool had closed, technically, an hour and a half ago. the sports centre seems to believe, however, that certain members of the college swim team reserve the right to use the pool for however long they require and desire, even if it is at your expense. if you were being paid overtime, perhaps you’d have a more positive outlook on things and less of a frown creasing on your forehead.
if the swimmers weren’t so irritating, maybe you’d enjoy the view.
“all that height, and for what?” the sophomore boy’s voice- jung wooyoung? you aren’t overly familiar with him, seeing him only in sporadic flashes when you pass each other on campus or at some uncivilised frat party- echos through the large room, his hair a wet mess. if you were gaining anything from being here, you’d perhaps muster up the energy to remind the boy of how a swim cap is necessary at all times in the water. “can’t even out-swim me with those long legs!”
“wanna know what my long legs are for?” jeong yunho, a junior with the face of an angel and the body proportions of a sinner, pipes up from across the olympic length pool. unlike the other boy, a crimson cap keeps his own locks out of sight. “climbing up the stairs to go fuck your mom!”
it’s impossible to stifle your laughter, no matter how hard you try to just play it off as a tickle at the back of your throat, a cough forcing its way out. when your eyes meet those of the glaring senior, however, you’re wishing you hadn’t made a sound.
“even the lifeguard can’t take you seriously, yunho,” park seonghwa speaks, eyes not leaving yours as his muscled arms work to pull himself out of the water, before letting his well-rounded behind sit down on the edge. a breath hitches in your throat as his gloriously muscled thighs come into view, drops of water cascading down them in a pattern set to hypnotise you, keep you staring a little longer than is good for your health. “bet she’s heard all about you and the boner incident of 2019.”
truthfully, you have no clue what the dark haired male is on about. that doesn’t stop you from laughing again though, this time a little out of malice and a lot because it’s quite endearing to see a loudmouth like jeong yunho be silenced so easily, head bowed and ears a little rosier with embarrassment.
this small moment of peace is soon shattered by the reality that these boys can’t spend more than ten minutes in a room- particularly one that includes a pool- without arguing. while one boasts about his speed, the other begins to jab at his lack of endurance, and the remaining of the three reminds them all of the fact he holds the most medals amongst them.
“are they always like this?” you jump, surprised by the cold drop of water that lands on your exposed thigh, all courtesy of the boy who’s invited himself to sit down next to you on the bench.
“not always,” you bite at the inside of your cheek, willing yourself to not look at san in all his wet glory. you’re afraid that, once you start looking at him, you won’t be able to stop. it wouldn’t be the first time you’ve fallen victim to the crime that is his enchanting smile. “guess they’re feeling a little feistier than usual, with the district championship just around the corner. rumour has it one of you guys is risking his scholarship if he’s not in the top three.”
are you and san close?
that’s a good question. see, by social standards, you’re not strangers. you share several classes, you attend the same parties, you’ve even texted a few times- mostly on the days one of you miss class (read as: san misses class thanks to his swim-meets) and you need a copy of any notes taken that lesson.
but, you aren’t exactly friends either. you don’t go out of your ways to spend time together, you don’t know more than the surface level about one another, you don’t check-in with each other.
so, is acquaintances the best word to describe you two?
that depends on how common it is for an acquaintance to suck another acquaintance’s cock. granted, there had been a lot of alcohol in the mix, on both ends, with you drinking to forget a botched assignment and san drinking to forget how badly his voice had apparently cracked in front of his crush.
a few weeks have passed since the incident and things haven’t exactly been the same. you’ve missed class twice and ended up contacting heather- a sweet girl who sits down by the front and seems to live with her hand raised in the air- for any notes. likewise, san has found himself declining party invitations, the knowledge that you would be there all too prevalent in the front of his mind.
the irony is that neither of you quite know the reason why you’re avoiding each other, you just are.
or, were, until san had walked in with his swim team buddies- if they could even be considered that- and spotted you in your lifeguard attire. he hadn’t been as slick as he thought he was, sneaking glances at you between laps and even gaining an undeniable smile each time he watched you blow that stupid whistle at some misbehaving kids.
he was slicker with the fact he didn’t need to be here, at this hour. but, he figured staying gave him the chance to stare at you a little longer and, maybe, think up an excuse to talk to you.
“i should-”
“i missed-”
you both speak at the same time, minutes after watching the three musketeers disappear into the locker rooms, with the smallest of them continuing to dig at them for not being able to out-swim him despite their ample amount of height. san’s quick to signal you to go first, a dimple making itself known on his face and reminding you of the deadliest part of him: the false innocence that drips off him like warm candy.
sweet, sticky, making a mess all over the place.
“i should probably start cleaning up.” it turns out san also isn’t discreet when it comes to hiding the disappointment in his face, because no sooner than those words leave your mouth, the dimple is gone and he’s sat a little straighter, a little more ridged, like when the professor points him out in the middle of the class and the golden boy can’t stomach all the attention being on him. “but, what were you gonna say?”
“oh,” and it’s like he’s just remembered that yes, there is something he wants to say. “i missed you in class yesterday.”
it catches you off guard, leaving you to almost drop the whistle you’ve been fiddling between your fingers for the past few minutes. something about sitting so close to him while both of you are dressed so scantily has you feeling unnerved, like you need to run away as fast as possible, yet also wanting to plant yourself right in his lap.
“i didn’t think,” you’re cut off by your own throat, dry and desperate for a drink under his intense gaze. san is a walking contradiction, you think, with his sharp cheekbones and soft heart, his intense eyes and his easy-going smile. his presence gives you never-ending whiplash, never sure if he’s more angel than devil. “i didn’t think you noticed.”
“how could i not? there was no one to laugh with me at professor nam and his weird toe-shoes!” his laugh is infectious, willing your own to make an appearance. 
the sound of distant muffled yelling fills the air of the swimming pool and it isn’t hard to recognise wooyoung’s high-pitched laughter amongst it. clearly, their childish arguing has carried on into the changing rooms. it surprises you in no way, already more than used to their antics.
their rivalry is one for the ages, all of them constantly bumping heads for the spot of the top swimmer on campus, their sports scholarships becoming their pride and joy.
you suppose it doesn’t help that all four boys run in different circles, only really crossing paths when faced with swim-meets and days of practice. the senior, park seonghwa, runs with the richer kids of the college, all sharing their trust-funds and god complexes as a common interest. you’re not overly familiar with them, though you’re certain he and a particular blue-haired boy are rarely seen apart. jeong yunho, the tallest, is in with the jocks, which is mostly just because his taller friend is the captain of the basketball team. and jung wooyoung tends to surround himself with the stoners from the school, something you’d learned from kang yeosang, a dealer you shared a couple classes with back in your first semester.
san, ever the golden boy, drifts between a couple different groups but he can usually be found alone and enjoying his own company, if not being followed by a flock of his own little fan-club, men and women alike begging for just an ounce of his time.
your name echos around the room. your head snaps to the side and you find that san is now closer, staring at you in a way that’s making your insides knot up. you’ve seen that look only once before, and it done nothing but leave your knees and your ego bruised. “were you listening to me?”
“what? uh, yeah, i was,” you’re quick to lie, knowing it’s about to backfire when he breaks out in a challenging grin.
“really? what did i say?” he only allows you to stumble over words for a minute before cutting off your incomprehensible speaking when he grabs at your chin and tilts your head up, staring straight into your eyes. “that’s what i thought. you were too busy getting lost in that pretty little head of yours to pay attention to me.”
you stutter over a noise and settle for that as your response, though entirely incomprehensible and nonsensical. the way he continues to stare at you feels cruel, demons dancing around in those pretty eyes of his. demons that are telling him to tease, torture, torment the fragile eyes staring back at him, the same ones he’d delighted in watching fill up with tears a few weeks back, the pressure of his crown slamming against the back of your tight throat entirely overwhelming you to the point of crying, tears dripping down your cheeks and mixing with your own drool pooling over the swell of his balls.
“need me to repeat myself?” you’re slow to catch up to the fact he’s speaking again, and even slower to notice the hand resting on your knee. at first, you think you’re imagining things, the feather light tracing of nails over your soft skin a mere figment of your imagination. but, no, your eyes flash down to glimpse and his hand is there, fingers dancing over your naked skin like it’s their own personal stage and he’s intending to put on the show of a lifetime. he speaks your name. “questions are meant to be answered.”
“i-” san picks the perfect time to apply pressure on you, hand gripping the flesh on the lower end of your thigh. goosebumps spring to life at the feeling of his cold ring on your damp skin. it takes a shaky breath to try compose yourself but you do eventually manage to get a reply out. “sorry... please say it again.”
“huh,” he pauses to contemplate, slowly leaning his face closer to your own, giving you all the time to pull back if you want to. you stay still and his minty breath infects your senses while the hand on your leg replaces your thigh with your face, the grip he has on it forcing blunt nails to nip at your skin. normally, you’d worry about the marks it’s going to leave behind. right now, you want him to grip tighter, dig deeper into your flesh till he’s drawing blood and licking it off your cheeks. “how the fuck do you still sound so cute begging?”
“is that,” his other hand curls around the back of you, finding a resting place on your hip. the window of opportunity you once had to pull back or run away is slammed shut the moment he tugs you a little closer, the side of your body crashing into his naked chest. “what you said earlier?”
“oh, no.” san almost sounds like he’s cooing, a mocking tone in his voice that has your thighs clenching in a way you’re sure he notices. his eye flickering down to glance at them confirms your suspicions, the smirk taking over his features the metaphorical cherry on top. “i was just talking about how i’ve still not returned the favour.”
mind blanking out on you, you stare back at him in what you can only imagine to be a dumb-founded look, mouth slightly agape and teasing your answer.
what follows, however, is a resounding silence on your end.
“c’mon, princess, don’t tell me you’ve forgotten what happened the last time i got you alone.”
forget? it’s all you’ve been able to think of every time you’ve seen him since, whether he was a figure in the corner of your eye during class or making his way down the campus car-park in search of his beaten up mustang.
each time, like an old record player, your mind plays on loop the way he looked staring down at you, long legs spread enough to fit you between them, closing in on you to trap you in place each time you swallowed him a little deeper; replaying the symphony of whiny moans and airy breaths you’d pulled from him, lips swollen and red from trying too hard to hold back his cries of pleasure; reviving the memory of his vice grip on your hair, tugging at the roots to tilt you back into the perfect angle for his hips to piston into your warm mouth, meeting his own crescendo in one final pathetic whimper of your name.
a whimper that’s pushed you over the edge several times since, fingers soaked in your own sins and mouth biting down on your pillow to keep your poor sleeping roommate oblivious to your actions.
“no,” an answer escapes you alongside a shaky breath, something about the way he’s slowly trailing his fingers down your neck and the intensity he’s staring at you with hypnotising you into forgetting all about the boisterous boys and their changing-rooms chanting. “haven’t forgot.”
it’s his turn to stay quiet and you begin to wonder if he’s recalling it too, if he’s reminding himself of how easily your bodies melted together, like candle-wax meeting a flame. the question of if he’s thought about the exact scene, hands stuffed down his pants while a dull ache builds in his wrist, burns the tip of your tongue.
but his eyes burn you more.
they’re usually wide, bright, full of that bubbly nature san is known all over for. but, if what people say is true and the eyes are the mirror to one’s soul, then san’s soul must be a dark pit made up of lustful glares and hooded eyelids, resting so low his eyes almost appear shut.
“then, don’t you agree that it’s my turn to have a taste?”
it’s the question to end all questions, no time to even think of forming an answer when his fingertips are dancing over your skin so rhythmically, like a practiced choreography when they curl and wrap themselves around your neck. they rest there for a heartbeat, and then another, before you feel it begin.
the pressure is dull, at first, and you think you’re imagining it. but it grows, like a seed under the sun, blossoms into thorns squeezing around your airways, a deformed rose made from the red marks his fingers will be sure to leave behind.
you try to breath in, only for it to get caught somewhere between your lips and his tightening hold.
“you’re too fucking pretty, you know?” the hand on your hip has found a new home on your cheek, palm warm and thumb rough as he swipes it over your bottom lip. “all i can ever think about around you, even when you were drooling all over my balls.”
you want to answer, you really do. but between the hand around your throat and the heat shooting straight for your core, burning up in a puddle of arousal, you can’t. all you can do is watch the man before you, raven hair a beautiful mess just begging for some fingers to be ran through it and stare promising to ruin you in the best way possible.
the silence pleases him.
“y’know, it’s so hard to get you alone. always got someone wanting to talk to you, stealing your attention. do you even know how many stupid parties i had to attend to finally get the chance to talk to you?” san pauses, like he’s waiting for you to relay an answer, guess a number. he loosens up the grip on your neck, teasing your skin with a few soothing strokes of his slender fingers, lulling you into a state bordering insanity. “no answer, angel? or are you lost in that pretty little head again?”
“i’m,” your voice is but a whisper, raspy with your new found thirst. “trying to figure out what you want from me.”
if it’s the wrong or right thing to say, you’re soon to find out, the sharp faced boy releasing a dangerously low chuckle as he takes a hold of your chin. like a pretty doll, you move any time and any way his fingers command you to, finding yourself staring right up into his eyes, a swirl of melting caramel that reminds you of how sweet yet sultry every inch of him is. lips near touching, he refuses to break eye contact as he speaks up once more, sealing both your fates when his breath hits your face.
“then let me show you what i want.”
his mouth comes down on yours like it’s the answers to all your prayers and, yet, all your nightmares.
it excites you how easily he works his lips over your own, captivating every inch of you when he tilts his head to the right and deepens the kiss. the rhythm to his kiss is a mismatch of beats, where one moment your lips are moving in a sensual waltz, grazing tongues and dipping heads to get rid of that inch of a space remaining between your bodies, and the next moment your tongues are tangled in a tango, the kind where his teeth send blood rushing to your lips with every bite he drags over them and his hand drags shivers down your spine as it makes its way down your body.
yet it terrifies you how willingly you succumb to san’s touch, intoxicated by whatever witchcraft he currently holds over you. there’s a deadliness to the way his lips part from your own only to begin a seamless descent down your jaw and the expanse of your neck, a poisonous element to the way his hand once again finds itself clutching the meat of your thigh.
the moment his fingertips meet the bottom of your shorts, you’re wishing you’d never slipped them on in the first place, every fibre of your being growing angsty under the weight of his suddenly halted hand. it stays still for an immeasurable amount of time, grazing over the bottom of your shorts occasionally while he continues to mouth at your neck.
like mosses and the great sea, san parts your legs with little to no effort, creating a pathway for his fingers to travel further up your thigh. blunt fingernails drag up your skin, a trail of goosebumps being left behind, a visible marking of where he’s touching you.
his movements halt too soon for your liking, too much distance between his lithe fingers and your body’s very core.
“have you figured out what i want yet, pretty?” his voice is a stark difference to the usual light-hearted, almost squeak-like tone you’ve grown used to hearing from the smiley boy. right now, there’s no trace of humour in the thick rasp and there’s no time for smiling while he’s glaring down at you through hooded eyes.
something compels you to nod your head, even though you’re a little too lost in the thoughts concerning what you want, rather than what the devil incarnate by your side wants.
“you have?” the words come out in a layer of amazement, and you have to wonder if it’s because of the lie you’ve just told or the way your legs have closed in around his hand, trapping it between them. “i want to know what you want, though.”
you want his thumb to stop stroking over the flesh of your inner thigh.
you want his eyes to stop gazing down at you like you’re the perfect prey.
you want him to stop teetering your impending pleasure on a string.
you want-
“you.” is all you manage to breath out.
it seems to do the trick, however, your point getting very much across to him. a softness flickers over his features, brows unfurling and smirk curling up into a full smile for what feels like an eternity, but is actually no more than a couple of seconds before his devilish aura is back.
lips meet lips again, the desperation and force behind each stroke of his tongue against yours the same as before. san, much to your delight, seems to grow just as impatient as you’ve been since the moment he welcomed himself into the empty space next to you on the bench.
one hand still resting between your thighs, his other seizes the opportunity to drag your body closer, so close that you have no choice but to swing one leg over him and slot yourself in his lap.
there was one time, in the middle of what you’ve deemed to be the most boring lecture ever, that you had thought about what it would feel like to sit in choi san’s lap. unintentionally, of course, for how could anyone look over at him in those grey sweatpants, legs manspreading like it was nobody’s business and pen tapping away at the table in front of him, and not daydream about being perched in his lap, head resting somewhere between his shoulder and his soft hair?
you’d imagined him to be the embodiment of soft and comfortable, warm and reassuring the way he’d lazily lay an arm over your hip to make sure there’s no risk of you slipping out of your new seat. you never, for the life of you, imagined you’d feel the outline of his dick resting against your ass the first time you finally claimed your throne.
choosing to not dwell on the heavy feeling of him pressed against you, you choose instead to focus on the way his lips trail away from yours and make their descent towards the top of your chest.
his hand abandons post between your thighs and rises to the surface, where long fingers begin to pull at the straps of your red swimsuit, successfully manoeuvring the nylon material till it’s bunched around your midriff and your breasts are exposed to the damp air of the swimming hall. 
with no want left to play around, he dives right in to dragging his lips down the upper swell of your left breast. you imagine he can feel the beating of your racing heart beneath the goosebump littered skin. it doesn’t take long for his tongue to enter the scene, skilfully flicking over your hardened nipple a couple times before enveloping his mouth around the bud.
one, two, three sucks and he’s moving on to your right breast. there’s no lead up, this time, simply his mouth finding delight in toying with your body while he busies his hand with your left side, thumb and pointer finger rolling and tugging and spreading the remnants of his saliva over your heated skin.
the straw that breaks the camel’s back, and has you arching your own, is the faintest pressure of his teeth biting down on you. it dances on a thin line between pleasurable and painful, exhilarating enough to make you throw your head back as a moan slips past your lips. it echoes in the empty room, replaying your own sound for both of you to hear again and again before the chain is broken by a giggle.
his giggle.
“why are,” he picks the right time to trail his fingers down your body, dragging your swimsuit with them till it sits uncomfortably tight around the top of your hipbones, skintight fabric digging into the damp skin. “you laughing?”
“has anyone ever told you how pretty your tits are?” it’s crude and heartwarming all at once, quite like the man who says it and the little smile he shoots up in your direction as he rolls his tongue over your nipple once again.
“no, i can’t say they have.” the hands that have been resting on his shoulder, grasping them in a vice grip in fear of slipping off of him and and directly onto the concrete floor, gain enough confidence for you let one slide around to the back of his neck and thread your fingertips in the back of his locks, hair as soft as you’ve always imagined it to be. “you’re the first.”
“i’ll wear that title with honour,” he seems to delight in the way you’re carding through his hair, eyes closing while he tilts his head back further into your touch. a delighted sigh follows. “has anyone ever asked you to sit on their face?”
“again, no.”
“another honourable title for me, i guess.” san’s giving you whiplash, with all this switching between being his usual goofy self and the man that minutes before was speaking profanities on how you’d looked choking on his dick. he peaks his eyes open again, slowly, adjusting to the bright lights he stares up at each time he’s doing the backstroke. when he has the nerves to smile at you, all dreamy eyed and relaxed sitting beneath your body on the bench. “now, can you please stand up and get naked so you can fuck yourself on my tongue?”
this time, it’s your laugh that echoes in the air.
“stop, i’m being serious!” he seems to whine his way through his words, bottom lip jutting out ever so slightly in a way you’re certain is going to drive you insane. “i can’t go another second like this, you literally sitting on my dick, without blowing my load. and i really don’t feel like having to explain to coach kwon why my team speedos are stained in cum.”
“you’re so-” you give up on trying to find a single word to describe him, knowing there’s no word that can quite capture choi san’s essence. “okay, okay, fine, but you kind of need to let go of me for me to, y’know, stand up.”
“oh, sorry bout that.” san’s sheepish smile shouldn’t be this cute, not when it’s followed by him removing his hands from your half-naked body.
reluctant, your feet meet the ground and you stand up from his lap. he seems to move quicker than you, no hesitation to be seen as he twists his body around and lays along the bench on his back, eyes all the while watching you expectantly.
your fingers are far from as nimble as his, and there’s a shake to them, meaning you’re a lot less slick with how you pull the swimsuit off yourself. you opt for killing two birds with one stone, dragging your shorts down alongside the red suit, till both are pooled around your feet and you’re begging with every cell in your body that you look more graceful than you feel, stepping out of the leg holes.
in all honesty, you’re more embarrassed with the fact he’d watched you remove your clothes than with how you’re now stood naked, legs a little shaky and the wetness gathering between your folds you’re suddenly so much more aware of, the cool air fighting against your pulsating heat.
“well?” san speaks with expectation, legs bent at the knee while the balls of his feet rest on the edge of the bench. “are you gonna just stand there or you gonna sit on my face?”
“are you... sure you want me to?” even you feel the idiocy behind asking such a thing, when he’s laying right there with eyes full of glee and a raging boner pressed against his hip, nothing but the familiar colours of your college to stop you from seeing him all his naked glory. still, you can’t help elaborating. “i mean, the bench isn’t exactly sturdy and, i mean, what if i slip off of you?”
“y/n, are you joking? you have to be joking!” his offence is playful enough to ease a little of the hesitation inside of you. “do you see these puppies, baby? these are my mad gains from flailing my silly little arms around in a pool six days a week!”
you think this can’t be real as you watch the golden boy of the school put on a show, flexing his arms in an effort to display his muscles and voicing the most ridiculous words that not even he seems to be taking seriously, a bubble of laughter popping in every sentence.
“i’m not gonna let you slip, now hurry up!” again with the whining.
“god, you’re so desperate!”
“for you? always.”
the following minute is made up of wobbled steps and a poor attempt at amping yourself up, repeating mantra after mantra in your head that you are the sex goddess and no man is going to make you feel nervous. not even if that man has a jaw one could slice diamonds with.
he’s got a firm grasp of your thighs before you’ve even got the chance to get comfortable, legs a little shaky as you hover over his naked chest and will your knees to find grip on the bench beneath them.
“come closer, my tongue’s not that long!” san’s pulling you up, closer, all the way to where his wanton mouth awaits you. as if to give you a preview of what awaits you, the kisses from before reduced to nothing, his tongue pops out to run over the smooth of his bottom lip. you repeat the process of trying to find balance, a position in which you don’t need to worry about toppling overboard. though, with the way his finger squeeze into your thigh, you doubt you’ll have to worry about that truly happening. “comfortable?”
“as i’ll ever be.”
“all the people that would die to be in your position, and you say that?” he tsks, tongue hitting off the roof of his mouth before a blow of air hits against your folds and, though it’s faint from the distance still between his mouth and where he wants it to be, it sends a jolt of excitement up your spine. “i’ll just have to make sure i over-perform, make you more eager for next time.”
neither of you choose to dwell on the words next time.
him, too occupied with getting his first taste, tongue licking a strip up your core and coming to a stop as the tip of it bumps against your clit.
you, too busy having the air knocked out of your lungs, hand unconsciously finding safety in gripping his hair as you lurch forward momentarily, mouth falling open in a quiet gasp that echoes around and around.
“hmm, make sure you hold on tight.” you know he’s teasing you, with his words, and with his eyes, and with his mouth that seems to find enjoyment in trailing itself over your clitoral hood and up your pubic bone. “you smell mouthwatering, you know? enough to make a man go feral.”
the chance to reply never comes, not when san makes his way back down to your clit and greets it with the stroke of his flattened tongue. every tiny nerve sparks to life under his touch and you feel yourself grow wetter, a wave of warm arousal leaking out of your hole. his tongue dives down to welcome it, not allowing more than a single drop- landing on his chin- to go to waste.
you don’t even notice the lack of his grip around your left leg until you feel it: the first few seconds of his fingertips probing around your soaked cunt, coating themselves in your liquid pleasure until it’s dripping down the back of his hand.
the first finger to enter your hole is gentle, tentative to the way your body receives him, his pointer and ring finger keeping your folds spread and allowing him the full view of the middle one slowly disappearing from sight, burying itself in the warmth of your pussy. distracted, his mouth pulls back and his head meets the bench again while his eyes soak in the sight above him, flickering up to catch your reaction when another finger enters you, this time with a lot less care as it forces you open around it.
“so pretty,” he mutters the words, more to himself than to you, delighting as he witnesses you struggling to bite back a pathetic moan when his digits curl within you. he repeats the action a couple times, flicking his wrist back and forth, fingers brushing over your tight walls each time and culminating in a curl that has him pressing against the spongy-like flesh inside. “so, so pretty.”
your hips begin to rut against his hand, meeting every one of his thrusts with perfect timing that has him reaching deeper, further, better places inside of you. all the while he’s just watching and admiring the furrow in your brow and the way the swells of your breast bounce in sync with you.
your pussy clenches tighter and his fingers fight to reach deeper before spreading themselves wider in an attempt to scissor you open. he’s giving it his all, a third finger slipping in despite the dull ache setting in his wrist while he coaxes you closer and closer to the tipping point.
san takes just as easy as he gives, and it’s that fact alone that drives him to pull his hand back, fingers withdrawing from you and the pleasure you’re pursuing.
“why’d you-” you heave through heavy breaths, brain fuzzy from the unvoiced orgasm you were so close to having, every nerve ready to tingle, every muscle ready to tremble, every toe ready to curl. “stop?”
“because,” the wet smack of his fingers hitting against your clit is louder than the whimper that drops from your mouth. san hears both, however, and grins, quickly landing another smack against your engorged clit. “the goal is to make you cum on my face, not my fingers. consider them the appetiser, something to awaken your senses.”
his tongue licks in an upward motion, starting from the tip of your taint and ending at your clit, and you get deja-vu to just minutes before, when you’d first felt his tongue on your melting skin, the saliva it leaves in a trail behind it serving to cool you down. a shiver runs up your spine as he blows air onto your cunt, the pressure of it doing wonders to stimulate your clit.
“would you stop?”
“look who’s whining now.” san, despite what he says, does as you ask and puts an end what feels like unending teasing- really, it’s hardly been a minute but the pulsing of your heat and the loss of a climax leave you no room to think about something as abstract as time.
his lips make a victorious return, wrapping themselves around your clit and sucking against the pulsing nub. every so often, he delivers a couple kitten licks- ups and downs, sides to sides, figure eights- before swiftly returning to kissing your most intimate parts.
in an attempt to make your toes curl, he dips lower and teases the tips of his tongue over your entrance, wet muscle moving over wet skin and tastebuds covering themselves in your essence, till the moans echoing off the walls are indistinguishable between san’s and your own.
“you can move,” he grunts into you after a few minutes of repeated alternating between kissing your clit and tonguing at your hole. it’s muffled with the way he’s holding you down against his face and you feel his lips brush against your lower ones as he speaks. “need you to move. wanna see you use me, pretty.”
and, who are you to deny the man?
you’re hesitant at first, just like you were all those weeks ago as you sank to your knees for him. you test the waters and give a single roll of your hips. it feels good, great, especially when paired with his own efforts at dragging his tongue over you.
it takes a few more attempts, and san’s patience wearing thin to the point he resorts to grabbing a firm hold of your arse cheeks and planting you flat on his mouth, tongue flat and eyes staring up at you in a demand to move, goddamn it. 
move you most certainly do, grinding down on his tongue like you’ve done many a time with different men’s cocks. it’s messy, sloppy in the way that his spit mingles with your wetness, a cocktail of fluids sliding down his throat, and painting his lips, and dribbling down his chin as he eats you like a man starved that’s alas getting a taste of the sweetest fruit.
the rhythm of your hips is thrown off when the man beneath you switches from having you grinding down onto his flattened tongue to slipping the muscle inside of your hole, thrusting it as far as up as the length of it allows him to. with every time your body comes crashing down on his mouth, the tip of his nose bumps against your clit, forcing you to angle yourself upwards to gain more of the friction.
hands find hair, lips part in unabashed moans, thighs shake with the oncoming of an orgasmic state of mind.
the moment builds too quickly, too unexpectedly, like the ghost of your stolen climax is back with a vengeance and set on ensuring there will be no denying it this time.
“s-shit,” your eyes squeeze shut, too scared to look down at his ecstasy filled eyes in fear of it being what finally tips you over the edge. “i’m gonna- ah- gonna cum.”
san pays no mind to your warning. if anything, he takes it as a challenge, an invisible timer beginning in his head and forcing him to see how quickly he can get you to unravel all over his face. he’s getting everything he asked for, your naked body a mess above him as you fuck yourself on his tongue and your hands, with minds of their own, sliding up to grab and squeeze at your tits.
he watches how the pastel blue nail polish clashes with the darkened colour of your abused nipples, fingers working to pinch, and twist, and pull at them as you lose yourself in the moment.
when you cum, it’s with rolled-back eyes and shaky thighs, his hands gripping at you tighter to steady you as you sway above him, his tongue working at coaxing you through your high.
he licks up every drop of cum he can manage, until you’re cringing in overstimulation and reaching down to push him away. he let’s you move him, mouth moving to trail a couple kisses over your inner thigh, something akin to lipstick stains- yet so much dirtier in nature- being left behind on your soft flesh.
“told you i wouldn’t let you fall,” he’s the first to speak, partly because he correctly thinks you’re incapable of forming anything coherent in the afterglow of your orgasm, but mostly because he wants- no, needs to hear you praise him.
needs to hear you praise him like he’d done for you that night, eyes still hooded and chest visibly heaving as he finished processing watching you swallow every spurt of hot cum he’d shot down your throat. the praise never comes.
well, at least not from you.
at first he thinks he’s imagining the sound of clapping. it’s slow, and booming, and tinted with the slightest hint of sarcasm. it grows louder though, far too loud for it to just be in his imagination. the stilling of your body, going rigid as you fall back onto his chest, the sticky remnants of your orgasm cold against his heated skin, confirms that you hear the clapping too.
“bravo, choi. always thought your reputation with the ladies was a little overhyped, but i stand corrected.”
never has he hated the sight of park seonghwa so much, not even in the times they’ve been head-to-head in the final lap and the older male’s offensively bright swim-cap is all san can see every time he twists his head to catch a breath of air.
the three swimmers stand on the opposite end of the swimming pool, all in various stages of undress.
there’s wooyoung, who looks like he’s not so much as dried himself with a towel, still dressed in his team swimwear. and yunho, who’s got a towel wrapped around his waist messily, hair damp against his forehead and likely smelling of the cheap shampoo provided in the locker-room showers. lastly, seonghwa, who’s seemingly fully dressed spar for one of those irritating long coats san always sees him trailing around campus in.
one look into your panicked eyes is enough for san to spring into action, fumbling to sit himself up and pull your body flush against his, facing your naked back in the direction of his rivals.
he bites back a groan as you shift in his lap, unknowingly- or maybe you do know- pressing your soaked centre against his erection, which already strains inside the confines of the nylon material, leaving very little to the imagination.
“do you mind?” he’s glad the words come out clearly, booming across the pool at them and their unwavering staring.
“not at all.”
san holds you tighter against him, eyeing at your discarded swimsuit on the floor as he listens to a shuffle of footsteps. assuming the three men have made their way back into the locker-room, he’s speechless when he looks up to find them approaching the bench, seonghwa leading the trio with a secure grip on the back of wooyoung’s neck, whose eyes can’t seem to leave the floor, while yunho trails a little behind them, one hand grasping onto the towel around him.
“get your hands off her!” he leans back, pulling you with him, in an attempt to stray out of seonghwa’s reach as he extends his hand out. he fails, however, and the tips of seonghwa’s elongated fingers brush over your shoulder.
a shiver runs down you, one that san feels, the unexpected touch tickling your nerves.
“she’s a grown up,” the eldest of the men muses as he builds a rhythm out of how his fingers soother over your sweat slicked skin. “who i’m sure can speak for herself if she wants my hands off her.”
out of all the men, seonghwa has always been the one san despised most. between the constant boasting of wealth- money he acquired through labor, though not the working kind- and the disrespect he’s never had a problem showing towards others, he never fails to strike a nerve, awakening a dark part of san’s brain that activates his fight or flight response. by far, however, his arrogance is the worst, that sense of entitlement that drives him to think everything and everyone is a piece of clay for him to mold and manipulate till they fit his ideal shape.
the rich boy’s hand smoothes over your naked shoulder and san can’t resist glaring up at him.
“c’mon san, now’s hardly the time to be modest,” behind the oldest swimmer, yunho and wooyoung seem to be battling an inner conflict, yunho fighting to keep his towel in place and wooyoung fighting to keep the shame off his face while his dick visibly strains against the confines of his chlorine-covered swimwear. “not after the show you two just put on.”
“we didn’t,” it’s the first time you manage to speak since covering san’s tongue in your cum, breathing at last steady and face hidden from everyone’s view, much to san’s despair. “know you were watching.”
“and, if you had known, would you have stopped?” yunho is the one asking the question and, suddenly, san’s so much more aware of what exactly he’s hiding underneath his towel.
you give no answer.
“of course she wouldn’t,” seonghwa answers for you, hand moving to grasp the back of your neck. with no warning, he grips a little too tight for comfort and and yanks you backwards, till you’re staring right into san’s eyes and the only thing keeping you perched in his lap is seonghwa’s body pressed flat against yours. “there’s nothing a whore loves more than an audience, right?”
if put on trial in a court of law and sworn to tell the truth, and nothing but the truth, over whether or not you’d just clenched around nothing at park seonghwa’s degrading name, you’d plead that you never did such a thing.
you’d be found guilty.
“poor woo nearly came untouched just watching you two. isn’t that right?” the eldest turns to stare back at where you imagine wooyoung to be. “pretty boy nearly whined just at the thought of being in san’s position, a mouth full of cunt and someone using him like the fuck-toy he is.”
the air grows thick, between you, and san, and every other living being in the room. it feels like the walls are closing in on themselves with every second that passes, the sweat dripping down your back and coming to a rest between your arse cheeks evidence that the space is heating up. or maybe it’s just your body, hardly processing the high it’s just come down from and there’s already another source for a new-found arousal, a source in the shape of three muscular men stood behind you and one beneath you, eyes wary as he gazes into your own, like he wants to ask if you’re okay but all the blood is too busy circulating in his crotch for his brain to be productive.
“now, i hardly think it’s very nice of you to get our wooyoung all riled up and not even offer to help him out.” you decide you’re being lulled into a false sense of safety the second you feel the pressure of seonghwa’s hand leave your skin. behind you, there’s a shuffling of footsteps that call you to crane your neck and catch a glimpse of what exactly is going on but san’s eyes beg you to keep staring into his, to count the galaxies that dance within them while he grips at your waist. “so the chance to offer is off the table and you’re simply going to do as told. doesn’t that sound easier, hmm? no having to make pesky decisions, just spread those legs and follow orders.”
at last, you get your first glimpse at jung wooyoung.
he sits down on the bench, no more than a breath of space between where you and san are perched. he’s a vision in himself, shoulders hunched and embarrassed face the same shade of red as the tip of his cock, an angry looking bulbous head poking out the top of far-too-tight speedos.
san’s grip tightens the longer you stare at the other boy, gaze dancing over the shape of his body and mouth-watering as, for the first time, you see the appeal of jung wooyoung. never before have you understood why eyes follow him in the hallways, like he’s more than just another pretty boy on campus- something that’s in abundance. but you see it now, understand the appeal of his stand-out nose; and the veins that run down his arms; and floppy style to his hair, that seems to be calling out to have your fingers running through it. 
with no prior warning, the grip on your hips tightens even more, till san is digging crescents into the soft skin and he’s lifting you, off of his lap and right into wooyoung’s.
the usually boisterous boy’s eyes meet yours, no longer filled with that spark of defiance and, instead, glazed over in tears, a quiet pleading being exchanged between you.
only, you’re unsure what he’s begging of you.
“are you going to just sit there,” seonghwa speaks up, boredom in his tone that has you picturing him rolling his eyes and picking at his manicured nails. “or are you going to help the poor pup cum?”
“what?!” that certainly helps you find your voice, and the guts to turn around and look at the man.
you find him stood closer than you imagined, with tailored trousers hugging his thighs and a perfectly ironed shirt tucked into them, the last few messy buttons the only indication he’d rushed to dress himself. eyes looking past him, you find more of a friendly aura in yunho, who, despite fighting a battle against the towel wrapped around his figure, manages to shoot a smile at you.
and then there’s san, who stands with muscled arms crossed over his chest and a painfully obvious boner resting in the confines of his swimwear, though he’s done a better job at keeping himself concealed than the boy beneath you. his face appears indifferent, yet the twitch in his eye speaks of a tamed anger, a frustration he’s yet to unleash on the men who’d interrupted him amidst his feast.
“are you now deaf along with being dumb or something?” the eldest pulls your attention back to him with little effort, a smirk meeting the glare you shoot his way. “you made that brat hard, now do your job and fix the mess you’ve made.”
words of protest get lost in a surprised gasp as the boy in question takes your hand in his, veiny hand guiding you down to a veiny shaft. wooyoung wraps both of your fingers over his leaking cock, his holding yours in place around him while he ruts his hips up once, twice into your hold, the action sending his swimwear even further down the his length and exposing nearly the full sight of it to the swimming hall.
you don’t mean to compare, yet you’re incapable of ignoring the fact that while wooyoung may be on the slightly shorter side compared to san, he’s certainly leading in the thickness department, with a mushroomed head and the prettiest trail of trimmed hairs leading down his pelvis.
he guides you over his shaft a number of times, a little less shy now as he outwardly whines when your thumb runs over his tip, wiping away the fat bead of precum resting upon it. at some point, he moves his hand away, needing both of his free to lean back on the bench, yet yours keeps moving at it’s own volition, stroking him in a pattern of threes, interrupting every trio with a swipe over his tip or a fondle of his still-concealed balls.
“please,” the whine in his voice is so unlike the jung wooyoung you’ve watched week after week, hurling abuse and echoing boasts of his own talents while keeping himself afloat in the swimming pool.
“he asked nicely.” you’d just about forgotten about everyone else in the room, until seonghwa’s irritatingly unbothered voice serves to remind you of his presence. “rule number one: good behaviour is rewarded.”
“what do i,” you interrupt your own question to glance over wooyoung once more. “do?” you pinch your thigh, skin stinging as nails bite it, and confirm with yourself that this is not a dream but, in fact, very much real.
jung wooyoung is hard and begging you to do something.
“i don’t care how you do it, just put one of your holes to good use for once and make him cum.”
there’s still an echo of seonghwa’s voice by the time you successfully manage to rid wooyoung of his swimwear, the damp fabric clinging to the warm skin and the taut muscles of his thighs. the boy isn’t much help either, seemingly reduced to nothing but a writhing, panting mess instead of someone competent enough to raise himself off the bench just enough for you to undress him.
the sight is mesmerising, one you’re certain will remain ingrained in your memory till the day you die: wooyoung, disheveled and untouched, with his achingly hard cock pressed flat against his lower stomach, his swimmer-thighs spread with a set of balls between them that you find yourself near salivating over as a trickle of his own precum runs down them.
“your cock’s...” you begin to speak, yet trail off as your digits wrap themselves around his shaft, just to delight in the way his breath jumps when you drag your hand upwards and give a soft squeeze as you reach the head. “so pretty, woo.”
“youngie.” seonghwa cuts in from behind you. “he prefers to be called youngie when he’s getting his cock teased.”
“yeah, youngie?” you try it out.
instantly, he nods and something akin to a whimper flies out of him.
fascinated by his shaky breaths and his pretty chest, where warm, tanned skin appears to be near glowing under the swimming halls bright lights as his cheeks flush a palette full of reds and pinks, your eyes are completely fixed on him. there’s something vulnerable and breakable about the way he’s looking at your with the widest of eyes, his eyebrows furrowed and bottom lip receiving countless abuse from his teeth.
never have you been so desperate to push someone past their own limits.
officially running on nothing but pure instincts, you close your mind off to thoughts, like how the boy you’d spent weeks avoiding and missing is stood only metres away, witnessing the way the tip of your finger teases over the slit of his sport rival’s cock. or like how park seonghwa, perhaps the campus’ most infamous trust-fund baby, seems to have complete control of the situation at hand, yourself and jung wooyoung nothing but idolised dolls he’s moving into whatever obscene position he wants you in.
instead, you focus on how wooyoung’s eyes roll back and he lets out a gasp when you gather up fluids from within your salivating mouth and part your own lips, watching how your own spit drips onto his lower stomach, and your hand, and his painfully hard cock.
the saliva serves not only as a visual pleasure, something that’s awakening inside of you at the sight of it leaving you with whole new kind of excitement bubbling along your body, but as a physical pleasure for wooyoung, who seems to have no protest to how much easier it is to slide your hand up his length with the added lubrication of your own spit. 
“fuck...” he curses under his breath and his hands find purchase on your body, one gripping your hip while the other grabs at your forehand, like he’s scared you’ll release the grip you have on him and strip away the sweet release of friction. “don’t just focus on the tip- shit, ah- play with my balls too.”
“wooyoung!” ready to oblige, ready to give the pretty faced boy anything he demanded of you, you’ve no time to think of a reply before the ringmaster of this circus reminds you of his overlooking presence behind your back. “stop speaking like an ungrateful brat and take what you’re given. or else... well, i’m sure you don’t need reminding of what happens to pups that misbehave.”
the way jung wooyoung’s whole body grows rigid beneath you, paired with the countless times park seonghwa has butted in to speak on the boy’s sexual preferences, leaves you with the sense that the two are not only acquainted with how each other’s bodies move underwater..
“s-sorry,” this is not the voice of boastful jung wooyoung, who near bounces down the college halls and airdrops nudes in class because he’s bored. this is a voice that’s soft and meek. like a beady-eyed puppy, so quick to submit to it’s owner. “just feels too good. i’m sorry”
“yeah, you will be sorry.” seonghwa’s hand is cold against your back and it lulls a shiver out of you as fingers trickle down your spine like water off a duck’s wings. part of you hates him for stealing wooyoung’s attention off of you just as you were beginning to revel in it, a larger part of you wants to know why the sternness in his voice is enough to have your clit aching to be touched. “spitfire, be a good cocksleave and sit on his dick.”
“ok, stop!” a sense of shame comes over you when it takes hearing san’s outburst to remember the fact he’s watching the scene unfold. “don’t you think you’re taking this too far now, park seonghwa? i know you and wooyoung have your... agreement on how you treat each other, but don’t drag someone else into it. not when she never even asked for this.”
“you had your tongue tasting the eighth wonder of the world on that bench twenty minutes ago, both of you knowing there was a chance you’d be caught, and you want to tell me no one was asking for this?”
“that was private! you guys are the ones who-”
“there’s no such thing as privacy in a public area. besides, it’s hardly like she’s not enjoying this. if anything, i think spitfire doesn’t like the way you’re getting in the way of her teaching youngie a lesson in obedience.” you’re naive to think no one would notice the way you’ve began to grind down on wooyoung’s cock, stealing whimpers out of him as the soaked lips of your pussy rubbed up against him and holding back your own moans each time his tip meets the bundle of nerves that make up your clit. “choi, if you’re that much of a pissy pants that can’t enjoy himself even just this once in life, then feel free to leave. i’m sure the four of us will be too occupied to notice your absence.”
you’re not paying close enough attention to figure out if san’s newfound silence is due to his departure, or if he’s simply too stunned to speak, your eyes focused on nothing and no one but the boy at your mercy.
the initial burn of wooyoung breaching your entry reminds you of how long it’s been since you’d been stretched open by something other than someone’s cold fingers or wagging tongue. it’s been more or less three long months of juggling test after test, assignments piling up on your desktop and a relationship with your now ex-boyfriend being tossed completely into the gutter.
not once had you thought your return to the world of sexual bliss would be in front of an audience, much less at the very place you work.
doubting that it’s been as long for him as it has for you, wooyoung still spares nothing when it comes to reacting to your touch. with eyes squeezing shut, head rolling back, abdomen muscles flexing along side every shaken intake of breath, the boy puts on a show so pornographic it puts the professionals to shame. a whine exits his lips, lips that carry marks of his own teeth and look like they’re in need of a healthy dose of chapstick, and look so disgustingly kissable that your own tingle at the thought.
all those rumours of jung wooyoung being a camboy rush to the forefront of your mind, feeling truer than ever when your eyes take in the bob of his adam’s apple, and the perfectly timed run of his tongue over his lower lip, and the pretty way in which the prominent veins in his hands looks as he clamps his grip down on your hips.
he’s a sight worth paying for. 
“are you okay?” not the first thing you’d imagined saying after sinking all the way down on his cock, the need to check up on him taking over before you’d even noticed it’s existence.
“yeah...” he sighs his way through the word, eyes still closed and grip still very much tight on your skin, blunt fingertips likely leaving crescent moons you’ll find yourself staring at for days to come, memories of this moment replaying in a rose-tinted haze. “just need a second, you- you feel good, fuck me.”
“i’m kinda already doing that, youngie.” you giggle, like a lovesick adolescent speaking to their crush of the week, but the boy’s instant smile upon hearing it puts out the fire of shame building in the pit of your stomach.
“hmm,” he hums back, acknowledging your words without giving you the satisfaction of hearing him tell you how you’re correct. “are you okay?”
wooyoung flips the question on you and it parallels with the way he pulls the rains in physically, lithe hips thrusting upwards in search of feeling more, reaching deeper inside of you. in the back of your mind you already picture a look of displeasure on park seonghwa’s face, scowling lips loading up to berate you and demand you take repossession of jung wooyoung’s sanity.
“yeah, i’m-” with the eldest man in mind, you stop and compose yourself, as well as you can while wooyoung’s mouthing at your neck, your collarbones, the tops of your breasts. “i’m wondering who told you you were allowed to touch me?”
control is easily regained, all it takes is your hand squeezing around jung wooyoung’s throat and your soaked walls clenching around his aching cock and he’s melting like ice cream on a warm summer’s day, leaving behind a sticky mess.
satisfaction and pleasure come crashing in tandem, wave after wave moving in motion with each lethargic roll of your body against the swimmer’s, who seems to be a quicker learner than you’d believed him to be, hands flying off your body like it was made up of hot stones and, instead, now holding a firm and grounding grip of the bench beneath you both.
“harder.” you feel a hint of emotion within park seonghwa’s voice this time he speaks. it’s fleeting, and hard to make out quite what feeling it is he’s experiencing, but it’s there and it’s certainly a step up from the usual shameless, egotistical, megalomaniac tone he takes on. “squeeze his throat tighter.”
under the possession of his commanding tone, you find yourself caving into his command, fingers pressing a little harder into wooyoung’s warm skin. the boy gulps down whatever pride he has and delivers a pleasured whine. you grind down harder and an evil, twisted part of you you’ve never met before longs to laugh at the way he so desperately is struggling to keep his composure, fighting back the urge to meet your hips with his own upward thrusts.
so, you do. 
“hear that, youngie?” seonghwa’s voice becomes less grating each time you hear it, once an unwelcome and intrusive thought but now a second voice and a valued player in a game of wreck the wooyoung. “you’re being laughed at. isn’t that just pathetic?”
“y-yes, fuck-” he falls victim to your walls clenching around him, gripping his cock in a vice grip. the image of confidence withers away so easily to reveal a teary-eyed, pretty-faced, cum-desperate man. “i’m pathetic.”
“yeah, you are.” seonghwa circles his way around the rocking bench, no longer out of view hidden behind your back but, instead, staring you down with piercing eyes that cut through you like a knife to hot butter. “he’s getting close. never lasts long, really, even seen him cum untouched just from giving me head. but that’s okay, isn’t it youngie? you’re a slut for having your sack drained, huh?”
the swimmer beneath you has never looked redder than he does right now, secrets of his sexual nature getting exposed to the people he likely considers his biggest athletic competition. though you probably should, you don’t push him away when his face finds safety in the crook of your neck, parted lips covering your burning skin in sticky drool.
“don’t let him fool you guys, he’s into the degrading nature of it all. trust me.” you wonder if it should concern you the way seonghwa speaks about jung wooyoung as though he’s nothing but a pet, a possession of which he just so happens to have complete control over. you’re more concerned with the fact it excites you. “call him a good boy, i dare you.”
the words haven’t even formed in your throat and the boy between your thighs is gripping onto your waist a little tighter, lips near pouting and eyes screwed shut in uncontrollable pleasure, burning down his spine and threatening to push him over the edge of sexual bliss.
you consider having mercy, the inexperienced side of you thinking the boy looks like he’s full of shame and embarrassment. the throbbing of his rock hard cock repeatedly stuffing your aching cunt reminds you he’s getting off on the humiliation.
“is he a good boy, though?” you stare up at park seonghwa, not even sparing a whimpering wooyoung any attention as he begins a rambled protest to defend his good behaviour. “i mean, i don’t remember telling him he could touch me. do you, hwa?”
the hands that grip you tightly let go quick, like your skin were an unexpectedly warm stove, scorching his skin right off him.
“i don’t remember either,” the eldest’s agreement has you reeling in a way you never expected, filling you with a new found sense of control.
a control that is ripped away far too quickly, like park seonghwa sensed you growing falsely confident over the situation at hand.
like a shark circling it’s prey, the tall man makes his way back around the bench, each fall of his shoe-covered feet echoing in the quiet swim hall. click, click, click, and he’s right at your back, not a word uttered as the soft of his palm lands on the nape of your neck. achingly slow does it travel down the expanse of your back, not a single noise filling the space other than the rise and fall of your body on top of wooyoung’s and the same boy’s poorly contained moans and mewls of pleasure.
the silence is interrupted by your own shocked gasp, mouth falling agape in shock as your movements come to a complete halt. his hands, no longer soft and delicate, grip you in an iron-tight hold, fingers greedy as they dig into your meaty flesh with no mercy or regard for the pain it may inflict on you.
“no, get up,” like a switch was flipped in as little as a minute, park seonghwa’s voice has lost all sense of the excitement it had whilst he spoke on jung wooyoung’s dirty endeavours and has returned back to the cold, callous, commanding tone it had originally.
he sounds angry, feels angry in the way the fingers of his free hand tangle themselves in the hair at the back of your head and give a harsh tug, forcing your head back till you’re met with his scowling face and perfectly groomed hair, even in it’s dampened state it seems to frame his face perfectly.
“what?” you babble out, dumbstruck, much like the desperate boy beneath you who’s began to mutter apology after apology between pleadings of please no don’t do this and i promise i’ll behave, i’ll keep my hands to myself.
none of it works.
“you heard me. get. up.” the fingers on your waist tug, pull, drag you away from the quivering mess that has become of jung wooyoung, who near sobs as the cool air hits his now painfully hard cock, tip redder than the bottom of your favourite heels and a vein more prominent under his sensitive skin than the ones on his muscular arms. you’re not given much of a chance to process what’s happening before seonghwa speaks again. “wooyoung, up, now. you’re not getting to cum, so get off the bench and make room for someone else.”
the boy makes no further attempt to protest, cheeks painted pink in shame and chest shining with sweat as he shakily rises to his feet, head hung low when you watch him walk out of your line of sight.
then, your knees meet the floor.
park seonghwa chuckles as you go down, hands finding grip in your hair and forcing you to sit up right. heart beating faster, your mind begins to race with questions of what comes next, who comes next.
what dirty desires are about to be unveiled within you, forced into the unforgiving fluorescent lights of the swimming hall?
“jeong, you’re up,” seonghwa’s knee digs into your back and his fingers tug until your scalp begins to sting a little. you don’t want to like it but, in life, you don’t always get what you want.
there’s a series of shuffles behind you, followed by heavy footsteps. there’s no rush, yet no hesitation, just calm and collected footsteps of someone making their way over to do god knows what with you.
when jeong yunho, with his towel that’s looking a lot tighter around his crotch still around his waist, steps into frame, an inexplicable sense of comfort washes over you.
maybe it’s the way he smiles down at you, or the fact his hands brush seonghwa’s off of you, or the way his fingers take a hold of your chin once he’s seated in front of you.
maybe it’s just the fact he’s jeong yunho, campus himbo with a reputation for walking girls home at night just to make sure they’re safe and for singing britney spears with no shame each time the karaoke mic gets passed around.
whatever it is, it’s turning you on.
your knees are burning with fresh pain as park seonghwa shoves you closer to the mammoth of a man and you can’t help but swallow down the ball of anxiety growing in your throat.
everything about jeong yunho’s demeanour has always seemed large, with powerful arms that drag his body through the weight of water and large hands that effortlessly carry countless textbooks through the university halls; a tall frame that helps him stand out in any crowd and a personality loud enough to set off alarms; his thighs a muscular stairway leading up to a well rounded, remarkably defined posterior. it’s safe to say he’s carried a reputation for some time, one that consists of whispers between girls on campus who recount just how well endowed he really is. 7 inches, 9 inches, 12 inches, you’ve heard it all, each girl claiming it to be bigger than the last.
unfortunately, there’s no ruler at your disposal to uncover the truth of the rumours, but you confirm he’s certainly large as you watch him undo the towel. larger than you’ve ever seen before, with a thickness to match, and two heavy looking balls decorating the base.
he wraps a hand around it and you watch how he gives a light squeeze at the head, slowly sliding down the length of it till he reaches the tuft of groomed hairs on his pelvic bone. one of his hands alone holds half of his cock, leaving you almost certain you’d need to use both hands on him.
“d’you want it, sweetheart?” his words are teasing but his voice is soft, a complete one-eighty to the verbal berating you’ve been receiving- and enjoying- from park seonghwa.
you’re sure he notices the way you clench your thighs as he slaps his cock once, then twice against his stomach, the precum leaking out on to his tanned skinned.
there’s an itch inside your throat, one you imagine only he can scratch.
“you wanna taste it?” he’s still speaking to you through the arousal that fogs over your brain, commanding your tongue to swipe over your bottom lip as you burn your gaze at the glistening liquid on his warm skin, tastebuds aching to have him paint them in white.
you nod your head.
his own throws itself back, a chuckle rupturing out of his chest as he continues to tease himself with his hand.
“fuck, yeah, bet you can’t wait to taste my cock, feel it stab the back of your tight throat.” a smile should never look so sweet while it’s part of the same mouth spewing out such filth. somehow, jeong yunho makes it work. “gonna get it nice and wet for me, yeah? make it sloppy, i love it when a pretty thing like you gets all messy over my cock.”
the knee that’s suddenly digging it’s way into your back has no mercy. you wince, pull in a sharp breath and inch just that little bit closer to the bench. like a glove fits a hand, you slip right in between the muscled tree trunks that make up jeong yunho’s thighs. 
you wonder, if only momentarily, what sweet a death it would be to be crushed between them, taut muscles constricting the flow of air to your lungs like a boa with its prey.
but there’s a far more preferable way to be choked by the man before you, body carved out in such definition you fear michael angelo himself stands in admiration of it.
his hand snakes its way around your body, warm and heavy and imposing with the grip it settles for at the base of your neck. in spite of the sharp stab coming from behind- where you have no doubt one park seonghwa stands with disgruntled impatience written all over his irritatingly perfect face- there is no doubt in your mind that the man in front of you holds the reigns. with eyes of honey and lips of velvet, he peers down at you with a tendered expression, saying nothing yet everything with the gentle, repeated sooth of his thumb over your skin.
you need no verbal instructions this time around.
a hand grips the base of him as the other squeezes the flesh of your own thigh, piercing your skin with just enough pressure to assure you this is the reality you find yourself in, rather than some twisted, substance influenced dream.
the first taste is the sweetest, tongue a missionary sent into the foreign land of his body to discover the way he reacts as you drag it over the tip. he gives nothing but a squeeze to the back of your neck; and that crumbles you under his control.
with a few more kitten licks- for good luck, if anything,- the show begins with the parting of your lips, the widening of your mouth, the burning of your skin as you struggle with your ability to swallow him whole. you make it no further than a third of his length before he’s tugging gently on your roots and bringing you back to the surface of existence.
“breathe, okay,” his voice is gentle, calming your nerves yet sending your heart into a fit of patternless beats. “inhale, exhale, got it? through the nose, that’s gonna help you relax.”
doing as he says, you swallow three whole breaths. shaky, ragged, each feeling hollow in your chest in comparison to the weight of his cock on your tongue.
“pretty girl,” he practically coos, hand cupping your chin as his thumb smoothes over the swell of your bottom lip. it’s tender, sweet, and almost enough to make you forget the sight of his engorged cock that sits angrily between his tree-trunk shaped thighs, crying out for the return of your mouth’s affection. “someone’s gotta teach you to not be greedy, hmm? small little mouth of yours is no fit for me, don’t go choking on it.”
heat flashes between your thighs, your heartbeat dropping right down to your clit and leaving you with a burning ache, the kind only a gentleman like this could soothe. your fingers may have to do, however, if the stubborn arsehole behind you would be so kind as to let you enjoy yourself.
the way park seonghwa curls his hand round the front of your neck and flexes his nimble fingers- that goddamn family heirloom ring a punishing cold to your warm skin, near brandishing you as touched by some nepotism child- when you do so little as clench your thighs together to relieve the pressure, or lack-there-of, between your thighs tells you he’ll grant you no such fun.
“you’d need to have something big enough for her to choke on,” san, precious san. still here, still somewhere beneath this god-forsaken tin-can roof swimming pool, watching you bruise your knees and your ego for another man, another one of his team-mates. what must he think of you? has he lost whatever respect he may have had? does he think he’d been just another body to exchange fluids with, that night at the party? if you could just see his face, you’d not need to wonder all these things. his eyes, they always give him away, too earnest and pure for his own good.
“shut it, choi,” yunho’s bark isn’t half as loud as seonghwa’s booming commands have been, and are nowhere near as malignant. if anything, the gentle giant is humoured by his team-mate’s words, as if he knows they’re a preposterous thing to say about him. then again, you can’t imagine any man remaining humble about themselves if they were so well-endowed. “or do you wanna crack out the measuring tape again and remind yourself of just how much of me there is to choke on?”
silence.
it takes a few moments for the spotlight to return to you, a gradual shift from playful to lust driven energy encapsulating the broad frame of the man before. he cups your cheek, feather-light touch smoothing over your skin while his eyes burrow daggers into your soul.
why must his shoulders be so wide? it almost angers you as much as it sends a wave of heat between your legs.
almost, but not quite.
“‘s cute,” he half mumbles, distracted by the sight you paint below him on your knees, bruises already forming and thighs clenching for some relief of pressure. “your little pussy’s all wet just from having my cock in your mouth.”
“i think you’re forgetting she was bouncing on woo’s dick a few minutes ago, yunho,” the devil on your shoulder won’t let you rest, hand snaking through the threads of your hair and tugging on your roots. not enough to hurt, just enough to sting. “have some modesty.”
“sure, let’s act like i’m not the one who had her cumming all over my face a while ago.” san mumbles a string of words you wish you could unhear, face heating up as the shame burns through your bloodstream.
how had you gotten here?
you’re allowed no such freedom to ponder over previous actions as jeong yunho’s all encompassing frame works to remind you of where you find yourself: on your knees dressed in nothing but your own shame- shame which seems to slip off of you, piece by piece, baring you shamelessly to this pack of wolf-eyed boys’ for their eyes to feast upon.
strong, veiny hands reach out and drag you forwards, just an inch yet it’s all you need to feel the weight of park seonghwa’s domineering figure float off of you, rendering you under the control of this much larger, far smilier looking man. “eyes on me, okay? don’t wanna miss the way i’m about to make them roll back.”
there begins a game of push and pull, where jeong yunho pushes you closer and closer to his evident arousal, all the while teasing you as he pulls his hips back, keeping your waiting mouth open and empty, and oh-so frustrated at the feeling of being so close yet so far away from his dripping tip.
the first real taste you get of him does, in fact, nearly have your eyes rolling back. a kitten lick, barely there yet fully felt, running over the underside of his cock, a taste of salted skin, and musky sweat, and stale chlorine mixing in with the warmth of him flooding your senses. his reaction is no more composed than yours, blatantly parting his lips in a gasp and bucking his hips up, forwards, any direction they need follow to chase after your mouth.
happy to comply, you take pride in tasting him a second time, this time right over the growing drop of pre-cum pebbling on his tip. white flashes behind your closing eyes as his grip in your hair tightens, a pulse of heat firing straight down your spine as your mind floods with images of what it must be like to watch this man, this gentleman, this figure that so wholly encompasses what it means to be a himbo in this day and age lose his cool and revolt into his most carnal, basal instincts to take whatever pleasure he needs from you with a reckless abandon, burrow his throbbing cock down your throat till the beat of his heart takes over your own.
instead, you settle for wrapping your lips around him, at last, and letting him guide you just that little bit down his length. the weight of him feels nice, a strange sense of comfort birthing in your bones as you grow used to feel of him taking up your palate. his breaths seem to run in tandem with the inches he sinks deep between your parted lips.
a deep breath, he lowers you further, till your left cheek begins to bulge out.
tongue pinned to the floor of your mouth, you make use of it as best you can, rolling it over the bottom of his shaft and earning yourself a plethora of gratifying sounds, each deep and desperate and crooning straight out of jeong yunho’s broad chest. 
another deep breath, another inch.
for all the false dominance you wield over the situation, with the heat of your mouth and spill of your own saliva slickening his cock, his real and visceral dominance doubles it by tenfold, with a hand on the back of your neck, guiding your every move, and a knowing, gentle look cast downwards at you from where he sits propped on the bench, thighs a heavy mass to case your body between. a silly little voice in your head whispers a seductive tale of how easily this man could get you in a headlock and suffocate your fragile windpipes. a wave of heat, this one going right down to your core and forcing you to pay attention to it, shifting awkwardly and clenching the muscles in your own legs in hopes of getting some pitiful amount of pressure.
all breathing stops as he hits the back of your throat.
hands pulling tight, a biting pain ripping through your hair and a tired gag creeping out of your constricting throat, yunho holds you still and strong, as unmoving as the mountains that fill the horizon from your bedroom window.
he’s not even fully in, an arguably obscene amount of him still awaiting some form of attention beyond the spill of the spit filling up your mouth. but there’s nowhere for it to go, not within your mouth at least, and so you manoeuvre your hand up and grip the neglected inches, the tip of your pinkie teasingly brushing over the swell of his balls.
he lurches forward, gasping in a breath of air at last. “fucking christ- shit,” he grits his teeth. “her mouth’s warm.”
“well, obviously. this your first time getting a blowjob or something, jeong?” god, the reminder of seonghwa being here, somewhere behind you, fox eyes judging your every move and keeping his cool, no matter how hard you’d seen his cock straining in those ridiculous pant-suit trousers he sports. it’s sickening.
“yeah, yunho, watch out before you have a repeat of 2019.”
if the taller jeong wants to snap at the other, you never find out, instead dedicating yourself to the glory of worshipping him between your parted lips and tight throat, jaw ready to lock itself in place so long as it keeps him inside.
you treat him differently than you’d treated san that night. you’d been tipsy then, buzzing off the colourful shots of who-knows-what you’d been conned into downing a half hours before, mind hazy as you kneeled between him and teased your tongue over every crevice of him it could reach, dripping him in drool and working an ache into your overused tongue by the time you got watched him spill over the edge of ecstasy. that wasn’t even about san’s pleasure, no real care put into getting him off, your own selfish need to indulge in the pleasure of feeling, tasting, worshipping him taking precedence.
but, right now, you’re overwhelmingly sober, mind hazed only by a cloud of inexplicable lust that rolled in the moment san shot you his stupid smile, and you care about making jeong yunho cum. in fact, it’s the only thing on your mind as you bob your head up and down, letting his own hand guide your pace.  
“shh, shh,” he’s hushing your own struggles for breath and carding his fingers through the tresses of your hair, his legs clamping down on either side of you, pinning you in your rightful place. “taking it so good, baby. so fucking good.”
good’s not good enough.
you want to leave him mind-blown, exhausted, unhinged. you want him clenching his jaw, and baring his teeth, and stuttering over any praise he tries to give you. in fact, you need it, need that thrill-driven lust of collapsing the sanity of a man as broad and strong and capable as him.
so you pick up the pace, fight against the steady up-and-down of his grip and try to take just that little bit more of him in your mouth and down your throat, till you’ve no doubt there’s a visible bulge of where he sits down your windpipe. you think back on what he said- i love it when a pretty thing like you gets all messy over my cock- and work towards doing just that, mouth a fountain of over-flowing spit that paints lines down your chin and over his heavy balls. the hand at his base lightly drags the tips of its nails over his burning skin and you physically feel the way his cock jumps in your mouth, head twitching as his hips involuntarily jolt forwards.
eyes as wide as a deer in headlights, you glance up to stare into his own, only to find they’re rolling back in his head, too caught up in the headiness of having your mouth on him to visually focus. it’s erotic, tracing your eyes over the protruding vein in his neck and the unrhythmic heaving of his chest- like every breath he pulls is a rare gift and a miracle- and the straining of his muscled thighs that hold back his urge to buck freely into your mouth, use you as nothing but a hole to get himself off with.
your free hand stakes claim over your own sexual frustration, nimble fingers rubbing tight, slow circles over your clit in an attempt to just ease that heat burning you from the inside out.
“she’s touching herself, jeong,” not even the irritating, grating voice of park seonghwa’s unwanted commentary can take away the kick you’re getting out of working this man into a frenzy. “are you just going to let her, without your permiss-”
“shut up, park,” yunho is wrecked, voice divulging so far from that loud, boyish charm into a dark, broken sort of gruffed out thing, echoing straight out of his chest. but, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t listen to the other man, doesn’t force his eyes open to glance down in a hazed daze to witness your pathetic attempts to work your fingers over yourself.
only, he doesn’t tell you to stop.
he just... watches. and then smiles, squeezes out what can only be described as a broken whine, and tilts his head back once more, relinquishing all control of his body over to you. the scene divulging into a chorus of mumbled words, fuck and please and yes becoming the only word yunho knows, the only three you hear. 
only as he cums does jeong yunho regain that bit of self-control he’s lost, ripping your mouth off him- a stuttered mumble of i wanna paint that pretty face- and erupting in a mess of grunted moans, cock twitching in his palm as rope after rope of white, hot fluid shoots out of it. it’s messy, and disgusting, and sticky, marking the skin on your cheeks, nestling in your hair, dripping over your shut eyelashes.
the last drops land in your parted mouth as his grasp shakes and you regain the right to wrap your lips around his mushroomed tip.
lips stained in pearly white, cheeks and neck matching too. the throb of your neglected cunt, clenching itself around nothing but the mere thought of having jeong yunho stuff you full, break you in two and leave you spent.
the man in question is in a no better state, head thrown back and chest a heaving mess glistening with the shine of his own sweat. his mouth hangs open, near heaving in breaths of air and his hands, adopting a mind of their own, grip harder in your hair and hold you firmly in place, tongue laving over his sensitive tip, pushing him closer and closer to the ledge of overstimulation.
“fuck- uh, fucking look at you,” sweet voice, foul words. two fingers drag over your cheek, coating themselves in the sticky substance he’s painted you in. “drooling all over me.”
he’s right, you are drooling. down your chin, an uncomfortable damp coat covers your overheating skin as you continue to stretch your lips around his length, ready to rip another thigh-shuddering orgasm out of the man.
yunho grants you no such pleasure.
instead, a grip tugs back on your hair and, before you can feebly attempt to catch your fleeing breath, he’s pulling you up into his lap, straddling you across the well-defined muscles of his thigh. those big, capable hands he pushes himself through pools, and rivers, and all other bodies of water manipulate your limbs however he likes, a rag-doll free for him to toy with for as long as he sees fit.
“yun-” you don’t even manage to say his name properly, not when he grinds you down into his lap, smothering his tanned skin in your juices. the friction runs straight for your pulsing clit and you’re rendered to sinking into his welcoming arms, head collapsing into the crook of his neck, parted lips panting up a storm against his sweated skin.
“that nice for you, angel?” the soft words, the rough hands, the perfect roll of your hips. you feel like you could sob, break apart completely. yunho tracing a hand up the curve of your spine and soothing his long fingers over a knot in you back doesn’t help your case. “bet it is. little bit of release to all that tension you’ve been feeling, yeah?”
you think you nod.
it’s hard to tell.
sparks fly within your loins, heating you from the inside out. yunho, at some point, has wound his fist into the tresses of your hair, nails scrapping along your scalp. it’s pleasurable, all over, soothing you into a state of utter relaxation, a being with no purpose other than to take whatever this mass of warmth and muscles and width offers you.
his hand makes a fist and gently tugs, forcing a whine out of you as you’re faced with the bright lights once more. traces of his own cum stain the very place your face had lay. it’s erotic to see, drying up your tongue with a need to lick it clean.
“no, no, focus, right here,” a single finger taps at your cheek, followed by the tilting of your chin that forces you to stare back at the hungry eyes of jeong yunho. “eyes on me. want a front row seat to watching your eyes roll back.”
god, he’s filthy, and delicate, and that just makes him all that more filthy.
swiping his digits through the remnants of his sticky cum, he makes sure you’re staring right back at him as those same fingers snake their way down between your grinding bodies and burrow themselves deep in your soaked heat. shallow pumps of his hand fuck his cum-coated fingers deeper, long and lithe enough he barely needs to move to have you feeling him all over, everywhere.
by the time he curls them, pressing against that spongy wall, you’re just about ready to cry.
“think she’s gonna cum,” oh god, no, why must he remind you of your audience? why does it no longer frighten you to have eyes watching you be defiled but, rather, have you clenching around him tighter, chasing that fever-like ecstasy the man means to deliver? “she’s gripping my fingers so tight- shit, almost makes me wanna bust my load just thinking how warm her pussy would feel round my cock.”
“don’t let her cum,” you vow, some day, to wring the neck of park seonghwa. “just cause she’s gone all cockdrunk doesn’t mean she’s earnt-”
“shut up, hwa,” the boy’s thumb pokes up and you can’t help the way you grind down into it, smothering your clit in whatever pressure you can get. “pretty baby’s more than earned it. stop being bitter that i’m the one who’s gonna give her it.”
give you it, he does.
three fingers deep, the cocktail of your wetness mixing with his cum-cated digits aiding the ebb and flow of his rhythm, jeong yunho has your toes curling, eyes rolling, thighs shaking. you blackout, for only a moment, lost in the wilderness of pleasure.
the aftershocks are barely kicking in when you’re suddenly ripped away from yunho’s hold. the sounds of your beating heart and heaving chest muffle the disgruntled exchange of words between the swim-team, inhibiting your ability to stay clued-in on the events that surround you. all you know is that when your body meets the bench once more, on all wobbly fours, jeong yunho no longer sits tall and proud.
a sharp sting hits your rear- a smack, that echoes in the empty space of the swimming hall. the only appropriate response is the shriek you let out, twisted in your own conflicting emotions of pain, and pleasure, and painful pleasure. a second smack meets the other cheek. this time, there’s no doubt a wanton whine escapes you.
“since the rest of them can’t take orders,” you’d already known it was seonghwa whose hands were suddenly all over you, pinning you in a position of submission. the sound of his grandiose voice sends a shiver of anticipation down your spine, top to tail. “i’ll have to do it myself.”
with no word of warning, he smooths his hands down the globes of your ass, teases the crease of skin where your inner thigh meets your dripping heat, and fucks two whole fingers into your sensitive core. knuckles deep, they sit still upon initial intrusion, basking in the warmth of you and coating themselves in the essence from an orgasm you’ve yet to even fully recover from and the cum yunho’d scooped off your own face.
then, at last, when your nails dig marks into the wood below, he curls them a come-hither motion.
with shame painted on your skin, you toss your head back and release an inhumane cry, eyes hazily gazing up at the horrendous white lights above. “oh god!”
“not quite. i do appreciate the flattery though,” there’s no need to glance over your shoulder to know that pompous, trust-fund baby is wearing the most earth-shattering smirk, some stupid strand of his perfectly groomed hair dangling over one of his eyes, like some 90s heartthrob boy-band member. you do it anyway.
park seonghwa is an unfairly attractive man, sporting a beauty so ethereal it almost makes you angry.
that anger seems to dampen the wetter he gets you.
his touch is slow, but by no means is it gentle. calculated and malevolent, he plays with your insides like they’re nothing but the strings to your puppet. a curl of his fingers and one of your hands shoots forward. the torturously slow pace that he pumps his digits in and out, and your jaw falls slack. his thumb bumps and grinds against your throbbing clit, and your elbows give out, sending you crashing face-first down onto the bench.
his free hand presses down on your lower back, bending you deeper, hiking your ass up higher in the air. and, at first, you think you’re imagining it, that trickle of warmth against your other entrance, believing it nothing but a trick of your melting brain.
you’re who-knows how many hours deep in a whirlwind of pleasure and penetrative stares, people have been driven to the brink of insanity over far less in the past.
but then seonghwa’s fingers leave your cunt, warm and wet trails following their journey over your skin. there’s no imaginative mind great enough in this universe to conjure up that initial shock to feeling how he prods and pokes at your puckered hole, lubricating it with the dirty mixture of both you and yunho’s cum and his very own spit.
the tip of his pointer finger ventures onward first, breaking through the surface of your tight muscles in a shallow intrusion.
the feeling has you frozen, frightened, intrigued. eyes widening, moans dying, pussy pulsating in an empty need.
“don’t go getting shy on us now, spitfire,” the collective language he uses brings back the weight of all the boys’ eyes on you. hesitantly, you angle your face off the bench, and regret it the instant you meet the brown comfort of his eyes. “fun’s just starting. ain’t that right, san?”
a tense energy takes over the large room, with san’s shoulders tensing, and yunho’s feet fidgeting, and wooyoung’s cheeks blushing. seonghwa seems impervious to the shift, whether voluntarily or not, and instead invites himself to further exploring the limits of your body.
he’s kind enough to spare a bit of care into the way his finger sinks deeper into your unexplored hole. another dribble of his hot saliva lands messily onto you, aiding the slip and slide of his hand. two, or three, or four strokes of his finger and you’re submitting to the intrusion, hips rutting higher and presenting yourself more to the man.
“come here,” the command calls over your body and, at first, you think its aimed at you. so you try scooting further back, only to be halted by seonghwa speaking once again. “yeah you, choi. come get under her.”
for the first time since this all began, you’re on the precipice of saying no.
they’d listen, all of them. wouldn’t push you, pressure you or force you to keep going, not if you truly voiced your negation. even park seonghwa, as big an arsehole as he may be, would have no qualms ending his fun and agreeing to never speak of this again.
and it’s not that you don’t want choi san under you. far from it, as you’ve already made pretty clear earlier, thighs his personal ear-warmers while his tongue delved deep for your honey-suckle glory. you’re hardly uncomfortable at the thought of him under you, chest rising repeatedly in frantic breaths and legs bent at the knee to give him just the right leverage to fuck up into your messy cunt-
it’s not till he’s three feet away from you, hands fidgeting by his side, eyes looking anywhere but you and your compromising position, and the world’s most obnoxiously boner-strained tent in his swimming gear that realisation washes over you. you’re hesitating because of him, because of his possible discomfort.
what if he wants to say no? what if he doesn’t want to get under you? what if his eyes will never look into your own again, too shocked and disgusted by all the things you’ve let be done to you? by his own team-mates/rivals, too?
hell, you’ve shocked yourself even, never in a million years had you pictured a day you’d be at the mercy of some rich prick, overdressed for every occasion and looking like a vogue-cover-model reject. but when he’s edging another finger into the already-tight squeeze of your ass, and pushing your buttons just enough to nudge you towards an edge that never seems to arrive, how could you ever dream of being anywhere else?
a hand touches your cheek.
soft. tender. it takes the extra time to soothe the pads of its fingers against your burning cheek.
“you feeling okay?” san’s quiet tone, meant only for you, is enough to move you to near-tears. you crave his hug. the position you find yourself in only allows you to reach out and grasp at where his knee bends as he crouches down to your level. it’s all the same, san knows. san understands. his own hand lands on top of yours, messily threading digits.
“she’s literally stuffed with another man’s cum and you’re worried about her? well aren’t you just the sweetest.” a cheap remark from seonghwa.
san purposefully ignores it, and everything about the man, instead choosing to keep his focus on what matters.
you.
“think you could make some room for me down there?” your nose wrinkles at his choice of words.
his giggle echoes.
“no, no, not... like that,” he guides you as he talks, grip moving to your shoulders and coaxing you up into a seating position. somewhere along the way, seonghwa’s hands leave you. he doesn’t stray too far, however, and your back soon collides against his chest. “here, pretty. want you to make space for me down here.”
within seconds, choi san’s back in his rightful place: splayed out beneath you, body fit snug between your parted legs and hair an unruly, sweated mess against his forehead.
no clothing sits between you both, blessing you with the mouthwatering drag of his cock through your folds. hard, and red, and leaking at the tip, a slight curve to the right, dribbling precum against his well-toned stomach. you’re biting your lip before you fully register your own thoughts, body a mind of its own as you grind down onto him.
control is limited and fleeting, that of which seonghwa reminds you without uttering so much as a word. instead, he clamps a harsh grip down on either side of your hips, rucks you up to where he needs you and guides you down onto san’s cock.
it’s thick, imposing and something that seonghwa blesses you no time to ease into things. instead, you’re slammed down, san buried to the hilt inside of you.
“hey there,” delicate fingers skim up the tense muscles in your thigh and find pleasure in delivering a teasing tickle to your sides. “come here often?”
the cheeky grin, the double entendre, the way san looks so goddamn proud of himself for saying it. you can’t help it, you wind up giggling uncontrollably.
wrong choice. bad idea. danger zone.
san contorts in pain, and lust, and something else you’ve never seen behind his eyes before, hissing through his teeth like some feral cat. his eyes match that of a feline too. “you trying to squeeze my dick off or something?”
you compose yourself upon the reminder of that san can feel you tensing around him, pull in a deep breath and find your voice again, at last. “or... something.”
maybe you’re a little out of breath. maybe you’re a little hoarse. it doesn’t seem to matter to the boy below, his only response being to cant his hips up and lick at the fire burning in your insides.
“you two are disgusting,” once again, park seonghwa wins gold in the nobody-asked-for-you-bum-ass-opinion olympics. let’s see if he’ll continue his winning streak and go for gold in the hypocrite-athon too!
the hands on your sides begin you guide you, with seonghwa squeezing his perfectly manicured nails into your plush skin and bouncing you down onto san. up, down, up and down, repeated strokes like the ones their hands deliver each time they breach the surface.
it’s easy, this pleasure. it’s a gift, hand-delivered by two god-like men that sandwich you between them- one a mass that fills you, the other a weight that controls you. liberating in every sense, you can’t help the way your head rolls back to find purchase on one of seonghwa’s shoulders, completely melting into the ways he winds you over san.
“shit, yes, you feel,” san’s no better than you, mouth agape and hands unsteady as they trace every inch of skin they can reach: the dimples of your back, the swell of your breasts, the hood of your clit. his hips are the only steady thing about him, not a falter in the way they grind up to kiss your dripping pussy with his cock. “so good. so warm, tight. love it.”
a hand curls round your front, travels up between your breast and over your sternum. it settled for a grip a round your throat, no pressure applied, it simply exists against your windpipe, a silent threat.
“look what you do to him, hmm,” a squeeze around your neck. seonghwa’s warm breath fans against your ear, taunting you. “look what you’re doing to them.”
through your glossed-over gaze, you trail your way past the sight of san and all his captivating beauty, settling instead on the equally erotic, not-at-all surprising image that stands just past where his head rests at the edge of the wooden bench.
a sweaty wooyoung, bent at the waist and whining up a storm, while a far more composed yunho pounds his hips into the boy’s arse.
your walls clench and san whimpers, a string of curses and pleads leaving him.
“think you’re finally ready for me?” the devil on your shoulder- at your back, more truly,- smirks into your skin, careless enough to not even feign it being anything but a rhetoric question. ready or not, park seonghwa is going to finally get his own fill of the thrill, his own satisfaction, beyond mere observation and controlling.
the spill of your own wetness slips down your thighs as san continues to fuck himself deep. it doesn’t travel far as seonghwa coats himself in you, wetting his fingers before they slip back inside your ass. a few generous, tempting pumps into your ring of muscles, fingers spreading a little further apart each time, till he decides that’s enough, he’s ready, you’re ready.
the unbuckling of a belt.
an unzipping of trousers.
trousers bunched down muscled thighs.
the first cut may be the deepest, but you highly doubt it’s as deep as seonghwa feels feeding his cock into your arse, stretching you apart to make way for him. a part of you feels like it can’t breathe, impaled on both these men who sit so deep inside you, you fear you’ll feel the ghost of their touch for weeks to come.
but what does it matter, really, when seonghwa pulls you back against him and whispers filth against your ear? 
this is all you’re good for. cock-drunk whore. gonna let us cum inside?
and san’s coaxing you down to trail his mouth over your chest, the tongue flicking over your nipple a terrible juxtapose to his crooning words?
taking it so well, baby. so tight, and perfect, and god. ‘s that what baby needs, huh, for me to touch her little clit?
the two men find a rhythm, a synchronised routine to how they pull and push you around. their thrusts ebb and flow, no moment existing where you sit empty. they treat your body like they treat the pool, swimming through your waves of pleasure and effortlessly advancing to the finishing line, the winning stroke. then, san’s hand meets your cheek and your thoughts are dragged underwater, muffling the sounds of everyone else- the shlickt sound that echoes with each inch of cock fucked into you, the high-pitched whimpers of a fucked out wooyoung, the slapping of skin against skin- as he pulls you in for a kiss.
it’s a hungry one, all teeth and tongue and swollen lips. you pull away more breathless than before and fighting back a big dopey grin, toes curling as the swell of one of their cocks hits a nice spot inside you, body too on fire to know just exactly where the new wave of heat is coming from.
“h-how d’you do it, hm?” it’s almost a whisper, something meant only for your ears, yet you hear him loud and clear, voice stuttering off in a mess of whines and moans. “still got that pretty-girl smile, even while getting fucked silly.”
it almost makes you shy, till you remember what you’re doing and who you’re doing it with. you settle for a quick, short answer. mostly because you fear you’re losing the ability to think in full-sentences, much less speak one out loud. “can multitask.”
like your own words are the key to pandora’s box, your eyes widen, and your mouth dries, and your heart reels as a new desire burrows itself somewhere between the parts of you owned by san and the parts owned by seonghwa. the desire makes room for more, for someone more, and, without much chance for second-thoughts or hesitation, you find what little stability you can manage with one hand pressing down onto san’s toned chest and reach forward with your free hand.
fingers, light as a feather, curl around wooyoung’s solid shaft. the man’s hips stutter at the unexpected contact, eyes flying open to glance down in time to watch you reach out your tongue, licking up the droplets of precum that threaten to spill from his mushroomed tip.
“please, god, please!” he’s beyond the point of sense, poor baby, struggling to keep up with yunho’s hips’ repeated slamming into his tight ass. so, you can’t really blame him or shame him for the way he hastily rips his hand through your hair, tugging your mouth as far down his cock as the angle allows.
a few hairs rip from your skull in his grip. you reward him with a pleasant hum, moans muffled with the mouth-full he’s providing you. 
“shit- look at that,” seonghwa pipes up from behind you, the motion of his hips never faulting or failing as he continues to take part in the filthiest three-way tango known to man, hands bouncing you down to meet each raise of san’s hips, plundering the other man’s cock deep, deep, deep, till he’s kissing your cervix and you’re seeing stars before your eyes. “should cup youngie’s- fucking christ- his balls, san, cup ‘em.”
you’re vaguely aware of his compliance, hand lifting off whatever part of you it was touching- your nipple, your hip, your jaw, it’s hard to tell when you feel like san’s everywhere, all over you, part of you- to graze the set of well-groomed spheres that threaten to slap your chin each time wooyoung thrusts forward.
barely two seconds, hardly any pressure against them, and the youngest of the four is nearly in tears, wailing and begging over broken whines that it’s too much, can’t take it, don’t stop.
there’s a ringing in your ear. because everything is becoming too much: wooyoung in your mouth, san rutting up into you and seonghwa’s hands clawing and pulling your body back into each of his overpowered thrusts. the boy in front of you is the first to fall apart, twitching in your mouth and, without a warning, choking you on the cum he shoots down your throat. a hand pulls you back, just enough to paint your face in the final drops released from wooyoung.
one of the other men is next, a string of curses and grunts filling the air. there’s a new stickiness between your legs, gooey white staining your skin. it’s all building up, and up, and up, until you topple over and are sent reeling into wave after wave of blinding pressure, toes cramping up and muscles spasming as you shoot off into another astral field, creaming around san and chocking seonghwa’s cock.
you don’t register the release of your hips nor the crash-down of your body. one moment, you’re pressed back against seonghwa, mouth dropped open in a silent scream for merciless pleasure, and the next you’re cradled in san’s warm embrace, a crooning tone to the way he hushes and calms you, unheard i got yous, and did so good for us, babys, and just let me hold yous falling on deaf ears.
for a moment in your own history, time ceases to exist.
there’s no ticking of the large clock on the wall, reminding you of how long ago your shift had ended. there’s no thoughts of your plant friend drying out in the staleness of your room, desperately awaiting you to revive it with some h2o. there’s no consequences awaiting your actions, no shame to be feared and leaving you unable to look any of the four swimmers in the eye ever again.
instead of being crashed against choi san’s body, a mixture of his, yours, and several other people’s bodily fluids serving as the adhesive that keeps you stuck together in your mess, you’re floating in space, not quite alive but not quite dead, just there. 
nerves tingling, body aching, mind switched off.
four, or five, or ten, maybe even fifteen minutes pass by the time you regain focus on your surroundings.
your name, whispered. it’s his voice that pulls you back, sweet and soft and oh so like the san you’re used to, the one that sends teasing winks your way when your eyes happen to meet his in class, and the one who has the prettiest notes you’ve ever seen, a colour-scheme for his every highlight and the cutest of doodles to go along with the topic on the paper.
the one who’s hand is currently brushing through your hair, fingers careful as they catch on the tangles near the split ends.
“hmm,” you swear you want to say his name, say more than that, but there’s an ache in your jaw that hinders you from even attempting, your voice-box likely having taken a beaten in the throws of your pleasured moans.
“you okay there?” he giggles over the end of the sentence, and you feel your slowing heartbeat stutter at the sound.
he feels you nod into the crook of his neck and lets his free hand find perch against your hip, moments before giving it a light squeeze. 
he’s warm, and pleasant, and soft.
and moving you both into an up-right position, hands splaying flat against your back and keeping you secure against him, your legs wrapping around his slender waist. you drift off again, between time and space, and come to at the first drop of water that lands on your back.
one drop, two drops, and then a downpour of heat crashing onto both of you.
you can tell from the colour of the pinkish tiles along the communal shower floor that you’re in the women’s changing room, and mentally note to thank him, even if he’s not aware, for bringing you somewhere you won’t have to shamefully stumble out of in the nude, your change of clothes safely tucked away within one of the lockers.
“i’m gonna put you down now, okay?” he speaks so gently that it overwhelms you, answering him only with an affirmative nod of your head.
neither of you speak while he lathers shampoo into your hair, nor when he’s dragging his soap covered hands over the cum that stains your skin, wiping it away and leaving nothing but suds where the liquid once was. he doesn’t speak while covering your eyes with his hands, blocking the sting of the shampoo. you don’t speak when you inch closer, head falling forward to rest against his chest.
when he does eventually speak again, both of your fingertips are wrinkled and bodies are clean, the water of the shower serving as nothing but a way to keep warm.
“you’re, uh, not” the echo of his voice in the empty lockers feels so much more intimate than how his cries sounded by the pool. “doing anything on wednesday, right?”
too lazy to move, you angle your face to stare up at him from his chest and take a moment to just stare, look at the way his hair is sticking to his forehead, at the way his eyes are back to being wide, at the way the marks you’d littered along his neck are becoming more prominent.
“how’d you know?” your question confirms his own, and a tenseness you’d not noticed melts off of his shoulders.
“wednesday is race day. you never work race days.”
it’s such an odd detail to have noticed, and it’s making you question everything you thought you knew about your relationship with san. do acquaintances remember each other’s schedules? do acquaintances bring each other soothing teas when they notice the other developing flu symptoms? do acquaintances waste time pulling faces at each other in lectures they should probably be paying attention to.
“i’m not taking part in the race this time, by choice. my grades are good enough, don’t need to worry about winning some championship to keep my education.” san is speaking unpromptly at this point, rambling in a way you’ve only seen him do when he’s nervous, or excited, or both. “it’s okay if you don’t want to, or you have better things to do or places to be! but, i was just thinking, maybe you’d wanna spend some time with me? there’s this medieval market down on main-street, it’s meant to be really cool, and i just think it would be even cooler to go with you? but, again, you don’t have to. forget it, actually, i’m being stupid and assuming you’re not doing something with your friends or your-”
the kiss you interrupt him with is far more innocent than the one you shared earlier, no hands rushing to touch and tongues desperate to taste, just two sets of lips moving as one.
you pull back and he chases after you, lips landing another peck before you’re grasping his cheek in your hold and forcing him back.
“i think you could have asked me to come help clean your apartment for you and i’d still say yes, just to spend my day with you,” you say, and he smiles as if on instinct, unable to stop it even if he tried.
“really?”
“really.”
“good, cause i already bought us two tickets and i really didn’t wanna have to go alone.” there’s drops of water dancing on his eyelashes, and laziness in his every movement, and you’re both still very much naked, but none of that seems to matter when he gives you another peck, like he’s awakened an addiction and your lips are now his favourite vice. “but, now that you mention it, my apartment could do with some cleaning. and i bet you’d look amazing in a maid outfit.”
a slap echoes in the showers.
“hey! don’t worry, i’ll be wearing a matching one!”
2K notes · View notes
mingigoo · 2 months
Text
Tattoo || seonghwa (m.)
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✰ pairing ⇢ idol! (fem) reader x idol! seonghwa
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✰ summary ⇢ After a long tour, seonghwa hurries back to you—but gets to the hotel room while you’re showering. When you step back into the room, seonghwa sees that brand new, huge spine tattoo you just got—and he just can’t take it anymore.
✰ genre/au ⇢ smut, fluff, idol au
✰ warnings/tags ⇢ 18+ minors DNI, unprotected sex, cum shot, seonghwa is whipped, also he definitely has a tattoo kink, hotel sex, secret relationship, this really has no plot its just kinda filth
✰ word count ⇢ 2.0k
✰ taglist ⇢ @atinywhore @jjhmk @yukine-smx @roe-sinning @meowmeowminnie @yeritheloml @y00nzin0 @yesv01 @halesandy @shegotboreddsoo @kangyeosangelic @gayliljoong @sanshineeeeee @kodzukein @baguette-atiny @seokwoosmole @nyeatinyjunkie @juliettechokilo @pockyddalgi @justaqueerbufoin @hwaightme @likexaxdaydream @ssaboala @gtr-skyline-lover @miriamxsworld @daegale @knucklesdeepmingi @naiify @yeoyeoland @arya9111 @mdibby @8tinytings @angelicyeo @wooyoungjpg @lonewolfjinji @asjkdk @charreddonuts @mangishii @yeoyeoland @pink-hwaberry @wooyoluvrr @maru-matt @pearltinyy @loveuwoo @m3chigo @northerngalxy @silverpixiedust23 @interweab @skz1-4-3 (if I missed you please lmk!! bold = can’t tag)
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You were desperate.
He curved his hips, arching his back, gripping the chair underneath him. Sweat dripped, his tongue danced, his eyes were shut tight.
He was god-like. You were ready to kneel for him as you watched his eyes darken, his hips snap—the curve of his muscle, his thin, delicate waist. He moved unlike anyone else, as if he were water, fluid—graceful. However, not graceful enough for you not to imagine swallowing him whole.
You couldn't take this anymore.
You shut your phone off, his half-naked body still on the screen before it went black. You tossed it aside on the huge California king bed and stood up straight.
With a sigh, you looked out towards the city. It was sparkling beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, shining like stars in the night. Everything reminded you of him. He’s been gone for ages, months; it was all too much. 
You went into the bathroom of the hotel room you were in, turning on the water, and opting for a cold shower. You desperately needed something to cool your thoughts down—you knew he was coming soon, but you needed to get a grip. 
You felt like a delusional fan—you were, slightly. Even being an idol yourself, you still crazed over your boyfriend as if he were just a figment of your imagination. 
You let the water hit your face as you tried to keep your thoughts in check.
After your shower of not-so-clean thoughts, you step back out into the cool air of the hotel room in only a towel, your bare feet flush against the plush carpet. With a quick movement, you went to find clothes in your bag, but you caught a glimpse of a certain black-haired boy on the bed.
His eyes light up, and he jumps off the bed as quickly as possible, tackling you into an embrace. You felt a swell of happiness fill you as he kissed you all over your face, your cheeks, your lips. It was as if he popped right out of your phone—but unlike his unkept stage look, his hair was neatly groomed, his face without makeup, his smile genuine.
“I missed you,” he whispered against your lips, his arms wrapped around your towel-covered waist. His lips met yours once more, a content sigh leaving his breath. 
“I missed you, too,” you smile at him, lifting a hand to rest on his cheek, feeling him lean into your touch. He looked so calm, so clean. But his eyes—oh, they showed exactly his true form. They were fierce, feline-like. He gazed at you with imperativeness, sexiness dripping off of him. 
His hair was begging to be messed up, begging to be gripped. His lips were parted in front of you, his white teeth bared slightly, and all you could think of was how sharp his hips snapped into the air—how you imagined yourself on top of him.
But you had something important to give him—a gift other than yourself. You got him a simple, small necklace with your initial on it. You knew it would cause a sort of commotion around the fandom, as fans would immediately point fingers and come up with ideas. The thought of it made you excited—even to see him wear it would mean the world to you.
You left his embrace despite his grip. “Oh, I have something for you,” you smiled, turning around to get to your bag. “I think you’ll like it. Let me just find it here—”
The air felt colder.
“....What…is that?” he swallowed hard.
“What?” you called over your shoulder as you rummaged through your bag.
He didn't say anything. No, he approached you slowly from behind, drawing a hand down your neck, meeting the top of your towel that was falling off by the second.
“This,” he hummed, in awe. His tone was soft, but his intentions felt sinister.
“Oh?” you smirked, dropping your towel slowly. “I got a tattoo while you were gone,” you whispered, facing away from him as his hot breath danced across your skin. You were about to ask if he liked it, but you could just tell by the way his hand trailed down your neck, down your spine, dancing across the ink that looked like a star falling, shining down your skin. And his hand met the small of your back, the base of your spine, and you shivered.
“Oh, god,” he growled.
“What?” you asked innocently, turning around in his grip, watching that stone-cold, sharp gaze he had on you meet yours. His eyes were sharp, making you think back to the videos of him once again, how he thrust his hips into the air, how you imagined yourself on top of him in the chair, how you wished you couldve licked the sweat off his pretty little face.
You grazed his cheek, trailing your hand down his shoulders, down his stomach—thinking of the way he looked in his stage clothes. He chewed on his lip, his breath hitching, his muscles tensing underneath the thin fabric of his shirt.
“Am I making you nervous, baby?” you hummed, your cold fingers gliding underneath his shirt, feeling him tighten under your touch. You haven't fucked for months, the only company being your own hand, and it was the same for him. You were naked in front of him, his eyes hungrier than you've ever seen them. “You know, I was just thinking about you in the shower, about how sexy you looked on stage….”
He just seethed through his teeth, smiling like an absolute maniac. 
“God, I need you. I..… I need you right now,” he let out a guttural sound, his hands gripping your bare hips, his eyes as dark as the night. “I can't wait any longer.”
Quickly, he pushed you up against the cold window; your back pressed up against it, your exposed chest against him. He tore your mouth apart, digesting you, eating you up, his teeth nibbling at your lips. You fumbled with the hem of his shirt, tugging on it, begging him to part for one second just for you to tear his shirt off. 
You managed to pull the shirt over his head, his muscles rippling against your cold touch. One of his hands found a home tangled in your wet hair, the other wrapping around your body, running down your spine. You shivered, feeling a mixture of pain and pleasure. It all blended together, and you tugged his jeans off as fast as you could.
His breaths quickened as you pulled down his underwear, leaving him exposed to you, his hard-on aching to be relieved by you. He looked at you with desperation; his lips parted as he breathed. You gave him a small smile as you spit on your hand, watching his eyebrows raise as you gripped his cock in your hand. You found pleasure in the way he tossed his head back, the way his veins popped in his neck, his face. How he bit down on his lip to keep him from crying out.
You move your hand in slow, mind-crushing patterns, slow enough to wind him up into insanity. He saw the smirk on your face, and a pained—sex-filled expression filled his own features. He gritted his teeth, baring them like an animal, before gripping your hair and turning you around, slamming your breasts into the cold glass. You let out a moan, giggling slightly. 
“Oh, how I missed your anger issues,” you breathed, your face pressed against the window. His hand met your heat, his fingers curling up into you. One slid through you, causing your breath to hitch.
He pressed his lips against your back, your spine, his tongue licking against the inked skin, gliding over the fallen stars. “Oh, fuck,” he mumbled, his breath tickling the back of your neck. You arched your back against him as he fucked you with his finger, sticking another one in with haste. “Never thought a tattoo would turn me on so bad,” he breathed, pressing another kiss against your skin. “You should get more.”
You let out a chuckle, but your thoughts were cut short as he curled his fingers inside you, letting out a sound that nearly made you cum on the spot. You believe that he felt the same, as he let out a similar sound, his fingers moving faster as his lips sucked on your neck like a damn vampire.
“I need you inside me,” you cried out, his fingers only making you want his dick even more. Your hot breath fogged up the window, your lips leaving streaks against the glass. He slowly pulled his fingers out of you, and through the reflection of the window, you watched him suck on them, savoring your taste, closing his eyes tightly. 
“So…so hot,” his hand danced down your spine, his nails scratching your skin. You arched your back again; he let out a huff of air. “I fucking love your body. I love everything about you,” he moaned, the tip of his cock pressed against your entrance. You tilted your hips slightly, and he slowly entered you, as hard as a rock, feeling the ridges of you as he moved in and out slowly. You cried out, slamming your hands against the glass that overlooked the city. “I needed your body so bad. You have no idea how much I thought about this the whole tour…”
You moaned softly, his name on the tip of your tongue. “Did you jack off to me?” you moaned, tilting your head to the side, seeing the mess of his black hair all over his face, sticking to his skin. “Did you fuck yourself to me? Did you think about how I tasted?” you took in a sharp breath as your words clearly had an influence on him. He pushed in deeper into you, as if it were possible, and you cried out in pleasure. 
It's been so long—so long since you've felt his body move with yours, against yours, inside yours. You felt him pulse within you, your walls tightening against him as you reached your high. You came onto his dick, seeing stars and buildings and lights all around you. You felt like you were falling off the building, crashing. He let out a whimper, a moan, as he felt you tighten, and he pulled out as he came, emptying himself all over your back, on your tattoo. 
He breathed shakily, his cum dripping down your back, the wetness pooling at the base of your thighs. You couldn't breathe. You tried to inhale, but all you smelled was the sweet scent of sex, his sweat, his cologne. He was everything you needed, everything you thought of. He lived in your mind within every moment.
He stepped away to grab the towel you dropped earlier, and gently wiped away at your back. His eyes were trained on you, his breathing steadying.
You turned around, eyes meeting his. He looked beat, his eyelids heavy, his smile lazy. He looked at you like you were the best gift in the world, and his hands rested comfortably on your hips. “I missed you,” he said, again.
You flushed, as if you didn't just get railed over the city. “I know, you said that already.” You studied his face, how his eyebrows relaxed, how he was so content in your arms. You brushed away his sweaty hair, tucking it behind his ears.
“So,” he hummed, resting his head on top of yours, looking out to the city skyline. “Was the tattoo my gift?” he chuckled softly.
You let out a small laugh, smiling up at him. “I mean, no, it felt like more of a gift for me,” you thought back to how he reacted to it—just what you wanted. “But I’m glad you liked it. Makes me want to get them all over my body,” you dragged on, watching his eyes go wild.
With one look that could absolutely kill, he said,
“Don't tempt me with a good time.”
876 notes · View notes
choisanboobenthusiast · 6 months
Text
Princess
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Pairing: sub!mingi x fem reader
Genre: smut MDNI
Word count: 3.0k
Summary: Mingi is inexperienced, you're not. He finally feels ready to take the next steps in your relationship and you find he is surprisingly more subby than you would have thought.
Warnings: fingering, oral both receiving, established relationship, begging, overall sublike behaviors portrayed by Mingi, reader is a little bit of a switch if you squint? Idk not a lot of warnings here, Mingi has a huge dick and you give him the sloppy toppy, okay? please let me know if I need to add something
a/n: Considering a part two on this based on how well it is received. Personally I live and breathe sub Mingi so I wouldn’t be opposed to a second part. This is my first smut oneshot so any feedback is appreciated 🫶🏻
Part two
You and Mingi had fooled around plenty of times in the near month you two had been dating but things had never escalated to sex. Sure, things got heated but the night usually ended with you naked beneath him as he got you off on his tongue and fingers while he still had his pants on. He was never shy about shedding his shirt, always proud to show off the top half of his body. And why wouldn't he be? He'd worked hard to achieve his current physique.
But when it came to sex you knew he was a little nervous, having only gone that far on a few occasions whereas you were pretty experienced. You never pushed him in that direction, wanting him to be completely comfortable before he got fully undressed with you. And he seemed pretty content with just getting you off, not like you were complaining about that but you wanted to make him feel good too.
Your current situation wasn't much different from any of the other times you two had gotten frisky. You'd gone to Mingi's for a night in of watching your favorite show and eating lots of crappy snacks. A couple episodes in though Mingi had started to trail his hand up your thigh, squeezing it slightly. This wasn't always sexual for him, he really just liked to be close to you. So you didn't give it a second thought, enjoying the feeling of his big, warm hands on you as you cuddled. Mingi was a bit like an oven mixed with one of those giant teddy bears, you always felt small and cozy in his arms. It wasn't until his hand inched closer to your core and his lips pressed softly to your neck that you began to take notice of his actions. You weren't surprised, date nights in often took a turn like this.
He continued to leave small, gentle kisses on your neck while his hand massaged the inside of your thigh. You quickly abandoned your tv show and turned your face toward him. He had a somewhat pleading look in his eyes, he always did, although you'd never actually told him no.
Things escalated rather quickly after that, your tv show now being drowned out by your steady stream of moans and gasps as Mingi worked two of his large fingers inside you. He was taking his time, teasing you by not touching your clit and not increasing his pace just yet. Oh no, not until you asked him for it. He loved to hear your voice whine for him and he knew it would if he was patient. And my god, was he patient. Of course he loved pleasuring you but he loved drawing it out too and he was good at it. Better than anyone you'd ever been with. Besides, he just couldn't deny how hard your breathless little voice made him.
"Mingi..." You sighed exasperatedly, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. You knew it's what he wanted and you weren't going to deny him anything right now. "Your mouth, please."
God, he loved it when you asked. He could feel himself growing harder at your request, if that was even possible at this point. He didn't make you ask twice, feeling insatiable himself, and quickly buried his face in between your thighs. You gasped and gripped the couch cushions as he latched his lips onto your clit. You couldn't help the obscenities that rolled off your tongue as he continued sucking on your sensitive bud, finally speeding up the pace in which he fucked you with his fingers.
With his free hand he pressed one of your legs back, your knee and shoulder nearly meeting. You ground onto his face, not being able to control yourself anymore as your hands left their place on the couch cushions and pulled on his short hair. You stared down at the mess of black and blonde between your thighs, thinking you might be pulling too hard. That is until he looked up at you, tongue still lapping at your clit, his eyes more needy than ever. You tugged experimentally and he choked out a whimper. Of course you had pulled Mingi's hair before, you knew he enjoyed it to a certain extent but you'd never been so aggressive with it.
"You like that?" You questioned, your tone genuine.
He nodded and paused for a brief moment to say "pull harder."
You did as he asked and he moaned around your clit, the vibrations of his deep voice causing you to jolt. Mingi had displayed sub-like behaviors before on occasion, usually when you were sitting on his face, which he'd told you was his favorite position to eat you in. A few seconds passed and he pulled away hastily, toppling over you and bringing your lips into a messy kiss, your wetness still coating his mouth. You whined as he removed his fingers from inside you and wrapped your legs around his waist.
"Let's go to my room." He said lowly, hooking your arms around his neck and pulling you up off the couch.
You held onto him tightly as he began walking the both of you toward his bedroom, his hands gripping the underside of your thighs to keep you from falling. You played with his hair and nipped at his neck as your naked body rubbed against his clothed one as he hadn't even managed to peel his shirt off yet. You began grinding against him as best you could in the position you were in. You just couldn't help yourself, you could feel how hard he was through his sweatpants.
"Want you to grind like that on my face, baby." He whispered in your ear before lying down on his back with you hovering above him. You didn't answer and instead continued to kiss his neck and his jaw, loving all the little sounds you were pulling out of him. He groped your ass, attempting to push you upwards to get you where he wanted you. "Please." He whined. "Wanna taste you again. Please baby."
"Okay, but take this off first." You tugged at his white t-shirt and sat back on your heels.
"Whatever you want." He replied quickly, almost as if he didn't mean to say it, like it was a confession and began pulling his shirt over his head.
"Whatever I want, hm?" You questioned and he stopped midway through removing his top, holding it over his face.
"Yes." He answered quietly, the words muffled by the fabric covering his mouth. "Whatever..." He took a deep breath. "Whatever you want."
You giggled at him and his sudden shyness. He had only ever been shy like this towards the beginning of your relationship when he'd admitted to you that he was super inexperienced. You didn't mind though, secretly taking pleasure in teaching him, especially because he was very eager to learn just how to pleasure you. He'd done all the basics before but just like with sex he had really only done them a handful of times. He had quickly become super comfortable with you and you wondered now if his sudden word vomit meant what you thought it did.
"Mingi?" You pushed his shirt over his head, revealing his pink tinted cheeks. He averted your gaze immediately as his cheeks turned bright red with embarrassment. "You mean whatever I want?" He nodded silently, his lips pressed together tightly. You chuckled at him again, assisting him in removing his shirt completely and tossing it to the side. "So... if I told you to take these off too?" You fingered the band of his sweatpants and ground yourself onto his cock. He whined in response, finally working up the courage to look you in the eye.
"Y-yeah." He breathed out. "I'll take 'em off."
You bent down to kiss him, hands wandering over his toned chest. "I'll do it for you, baby." You said quietly in his ear.
You were slow with your actions, wanting to give him a taste of his own medicine. You kissed down his jaw and neck, sucking and nipping at the skin of his collarbone as his breathing got heavier. He was raking his fingers through your hair, holding it away from your face gently as he watched you go lower and lower, leaving a trail of wet kisses down his abdomen. The muscles in his stomach tensed when you palmed him through his sweatpants and he sucked in sharply.
You had waited for this for a while, what felt like quite a long time. You were excited to finally be able to give back to him what he had given to you so many times. Not only that but you were dying to know what he looked like from the waist down, what he tasted like and what he felt like, in every sense of the word. You had certainly felt him through his pants pretty often so you had a fairly good idea of his size, you knew he was big but you could only tell so much with a barrier in place.
After what felt like a very long time of nothing but kissing and touching his chest and his arms you finally hooked your fingers into the top of his sweatpants. You shuffled your body down to rest around his knees and carefully began pulling the fabric down his hips. You very quickly realized he wasn't wearing any boxers as he lifted himself slightly off the bed to allow you to pull his pants down further.
"No underwear?" You teased, deciding to test the waters. "Naughty boy."
He gulped and stuttered. "I-I knew you were coming over so I didn't... put any on." You couldn't lie, he was adorable like this. With his face flushed, ears pink and that same pleading look in his eyes. There was no denying it, he liked the way you were treating him.
You had to stop yourself from audibly gasping upon getting his pants down his thighs, seriously. This is what he's been hiding? You thought before gently wrapping your hand around the base, your fingers unable to meet. "Mingi, you're... huge." You placed your other hand around him, running your thumb over his sensitive tip, already leaking precum. He choked out a sound you'd never heard him make before as his hands flew to cover his face. Was he embarrassed? Usually men of his size were more than happy to show it off. You wondered if this was why it had taken him so long to be intimate in this way with you.
"Sorry, I-I know I'm big. Maybe I should have said something or.. I don't know." He rambled. "We can stop if you want."
"Stop?" You began running your hands up and down his length. "Mingi, why on earth would I want to stop?"
"Cause aren't you kind of ungh i-intimidated?" His hands flew to fist the sheets, eyebrows furrowing as you continued your slow motions. "I don't wanna hurt you." He cringed at his own words.
"Don't worry about me. I promise, I'll be fine." You shifted off his legs, releasing your grasp around him and pulling his pants all the way down his legs. You'd always known Mingi had huge thighs but getting to see them like this had you drooling. You ran your hands over his tense muscles and he shivered beneath your touch, looking at you with desperation, plush lips parted ever so slightly. "I bet you don't really know how to use this thing, huh?" You teased, stroking him a single time. His breath hitched and he shook his head.
"Sh-show me." His voice nearly a whimper. "Like you showed me everything else."
He was unbelievably hot like this, naked, sprawled out on the bed for you with his face scrunched and chest heaving. So desperate to be touched. You knew you could get him to beg for it. You knew that he wanted to. You danced your fingertips lightly over his cock and ran your hand up his chest, resting it softly at the base of his neck.
"You want me to show you?" You asked, kissing his shoulder. He nodded quickly. You brought your lips up to his ear and whispered. "Big boys use their words."
"Yes, I want you to show me." He answered, his voice quiet and deep.
"Hmm." You trailed your fingers across his collarbone and over his chest, testing another boundary by grazing one of his nipples. He sucked in sharply. "It doesn't sound like you want it that bad."
"I-I do!" He protested. "I do want it, please, I want it so bad."
"Okay, since you asked so nicely." You smirked, shifting to straddle his legs again as your hands wrapped around his cock, stroking gently. The idea of riding his face now long forgotten as you continued to pump him slowly, avoiding his sensitive head to tease him.
His hands were still fisted in the sheets as he watched you. The sight of your tiny hands around his huge cock enough to cause his muscles to tighten and his breath to quicken. His eyebrows strung together as breathy little moans fell from his parted lips and his hands flew to clutch at your thighs as his hips began to buck up every now and then.
"Please." He mumbled, fingers pressing harshly into your flesh. "Please, more."
"Oh Mingi, you beg so nice for me." You finally allowed your thumb to swipe over the head of his cock while you stroked him, earning you a string of whines as he pressed his head back into the pillow.
"Fuuuck." He groaned.
"You want more?" You asked, quickening your pace just slightly. "Want me to suck you off?"
"Fuck yes." He answered, squeezing your thighs.
"Gonna be a good boy and sit still for me?" You shuffled further down his legs, his hands falling back onto the sheets.
"Yes, I'll be good, I promise." He breathed.
"Who knew you were such a sub, Mingi?" Before he could utter another word you took the head of his cock into your mouth, sucking on it gently and running your tongue along the slit. His hands flew into your hair immediately, aiding you in keeping it away from your face while also enjoying the image of your lips wrapped around him. He was too large to fit all of him in your mouth but you tried you best, taking in as much of him as you could until he hit the back of your throat. Once you had as much of him in your mouth as you could manage you peered up at him and god, was he a sight. Mouth agape, body glistening with sweat as his large chest heaved and his eyes stared back at you. You began moving your mouth up and down his length at a languid pace, making sure to hold eye contact with him and keeping a hand on the base of his cock to jerk off what didn't fit in your mouth. Your other hand massaged his hip and thigh gently as you continued your ministrations.
"Feels mmph feels so good." He brought his lower lip in between his teeth as he continued to watch you bob your head up and down his length, the muscles in his abdomen flexing over and over again involuntarily.
You popped your mouth off of him momentarily to take a breath, a string of your spit and his precum connecting your lips to his leaking member. As you caught your breath you licked him like a popsicle, relishing in all the pretty noises you were pulling out of him, sounds you'd never heard him make before, moans and whimpers you could listen to on repeat.
"I'm gonna cum." He suddenly announced, his grip on your hair tightening.
"Already?" You mocked, flicking your tongue over his sensitive tip.
"Unngh, yes." He whined, his body beginning to writhe beneath you, eyes closing tightly. "Please, please put me back in your mouth." He pleaded desperately. "Wanna cum in your mouth, please."
"Do you think you've earned that?" You began to suck on his cockhead again and he groaned loudly. You loved how vocal he was being, never having heard him like this before.
"I will!" He cried. "I'll do whatever you want just, fuck, please let me."
You didn't make him beg anymore and took him back into your mouth quickly. His hips bucked up at the feeling of your hot mouth enveloping him again and in seconds he was moaning louder than ever before. "C-cumming, I'm uhhnf-" His voice caught in his throat as he released in your mouth, holding your head down until the tip of his cock nudged at your throat. You couldn't help but choke around him as you did you best to swallow his load, surprised by his sudden movements. After a few moments his dick stopped twitching and he released his hold on your head. You came off him with a gasp, wiping the remnants of his cum from your lips and chin with your hand. He lied breathless beneath you as his cock began to soften, eyes still closed.
"Mingi..." you moved to straddle his waist, hovering above him, not quite letting your bodies touch. You stroked your hands gently over his chest and took his flushed face in your hands before kissing him roughly. He moaned into your mouth as your tongues slid over one another's, not seeming to care that you tasted like him. His hands fell weakly on your hips, tugging slightly, urging your body to make contact with his. "Mingi." You repeated, petting his hair softly, waiting for him to open his eyes and look at you.
"Hmm?" He questioned, a tiny content smile on his lips.
"Would you look at me a second?" You giggled. He opened his eyes then, although only about halfway. "Do you want to keep going? You seem a little... sleepy?"
"No, no, I'm not sleepy!" He protested. "Just felt so good." He sighed happily. "You're really... you're really good at that." He confessed with a grin.
"Thank you." You smiled genuinely down at him. "You did so good for me." He blushed at your praise and gave the flesh of your hips a languid squeeze.
It's not long before Mingi is rummaging through his nightstand, searching for a condom, while you discard that last bit of clothing you had on, eager to continue.
part 2…
1K notes · View notes
songmingisthighs · 2 months
Text
You <3 I
group : ateez
pairing : mingi × reader
genre : smut, oneshot
wc : 2 k
warning : mdni, sex, mature content, soft dom!mingi, unprotected sex (it's condom not sindom)
a/n : requested by @certifiedmoa
buy me coffee ?
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Travelling with your boyfriend for his work has never been an issue for you. Heck, it's fun because you both get to explore places and cultures together and if you look stupid, at least you look stupid together and you were sharing that moment. You love him, truly and dearly, but sometimes you do wonder if he loves you or his work more.
It had been two hours since you both checked into the hotel, approximately an hour and a half since his manager told him that there was no schedule today si he was allowed to explore on his own. But what did your boyfriend do? Plant his ass on a chair and work. Sure, most days this happen, you'd just stick by him and accompany him finishing up his work. But most days you're in his studio and where you were was definitely not his studio. So many potential of fun yet his focus is doing something he'd usually complain about days on end. He didn't even realize that you had been sitting on the bed, pouting and glaring at him for the past 10 minutes.
Well, if you wanted to do something, it was now or never.
Just as Mingi was about to clip the audio, his iPad was taken out of his hands and off his lap and before he could complain, you had carefully placed yourself in straddle on his lap. "Baby!" He exclaimed, trying to reach for his iPad but you closed the cover and placed it on a nearby coffee table. "Don't you 'baby' me," you huffed, crossing your arms on your chest, "I have been waiting for you to get off your ass and do something with me for two hours, Mingi, I am not kidding when I said you seem to pay more attention to your work than me even when we're at a four star hotel with a nice view!"
Your rant surprised Mingi mostly because he hadn't realized that it had been two hours since he "checked out" his work. He swore he had only wanted to take a peek of the revision he uploaded but time slipped past him and he felt bad.
"Aww, I'm sorry baby," his big hands grabbed you gently by the hips and his thumb began rubbing gentle circles over your leggings, "I didn't realize I was taking that long. Can I make it up to you?"
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
Maybe Mingi being so overly focused on his job was a good thing if it means that you were getting eaten out this good.
"F-fuck," you gasped, head lolling back as your chest arched to the ceiling. From between your spread legs, Mingi looked up at you with a satisfied smirk on his lips, "Feeling good, baby?" He chuckled. The movement of his lips on your clit paired with the vibration of his voice made you shuddered out a sigh and thighs threatening to snap around Mingi's head. He didn't even bother pulling your leggings and panties all the way off, they were simply pulled down to your knees and each movement you made, the flimsy garment rode up, securing Mingi's position on your cunt. "Better than good, I-I, shit- M-Mingi please, I wanna cum," you whined, hands gripping the sheets tightly due to desperation. Oh-so-simply, Mingi drag his tongue from your opening slowly to your clit muttering loud enough for you to hear, "Fuck, so eager. My sweet, sweet love being so good for me by making me happy. Do whatever you want on me, you deserve as much."
The words that came out of Mingi's mouth felt more like an order than permission and it made you visibly shudder. So you grabbed onto the sheets beneath you and began grinding your cunt on Mingi's face. It was as if your hips had a mind of its own with how feantic the movements seem. The moment you realized the way your body reacted to him, you tried putting some space between you two from being shy all of a sudden but Mingi seem to be enjoying every bit of it as seen from the way his hands turned like talons, gripping the underside of your thighs tightly, making sure his nails were making crescent indents to mark you.
Just as you were about to cum hard on his tongue, Mingi ripped his lips away from your nether ones abruptly sending you nearly jumping up only for Mingi to move quicker than you by pressing on your chest gently gently as he only wanted to ensure your position and pushing you down on the bed. You don't know which was hotter, the sight of Mingi panting, the flush of his cheeks paired with the glaze in his eyes, or the way his tongue ran along his bottom lip, greedily collecting your juice as if not wanting them to go to waste. "Baby, I'm sorry but if you're gonna cum, it's gonna be on my cock," he panted.
It was your last warning before he pushed your knees open and expertly nudge the tip of his cock into your pulsing hole. The pressure of the head made your eyes roll back into your head while your hips tried to meet his movements only to fail because he was keeping you in position. Meanwhile, Mingi was enjoying the tension from holding himself back. Between feeling your warm cunt that provided a biting edge of pleasure and watching your eyes watering from anticipation, Mingi didn't know which was better. With a roll of his hips, his cock slowly entered you. Your head was thrown back and your thighs tensed from the delicious drag of his length filling you up until it was completely sheathed inside you, the tip kissing your cervix which sent a chill down your spine.
Though Mingi himself wanted to move and his hips found it hard to remain still, he enjoyed how you look falling apart on his cock with the way you gasped and bit your bottom lip from your pleasure. A rumble bubble in his chest from how hard he tried to control himself so before he completely lost it, he began peppering kisses along your jaw and exposed neck. "Baby, baby," his voice managed to pause your whining momentarily but not your squirming, "I need to move, okay? Can you handle that? Can you handle me making love to you? I wanna see you cum when I fill you up, okay?" Though Mingi didn't mean to rile you up, your breath became laboured and with a low whine, you grabbed the back of his neck and locked lips with him.
Mingi took your action as permission for him to move so he began rolling his hips upwards, meeting your pubic bones with each wave of movement.
Neither you nor him were experts in sex per se, but you both were just so compatible with each other that your connection reached the most intimate aspects of your lives. A lot can be said about the minimal movement Mingi did; starting from the way he cupped the back of your head, to the way he let your fingers tangle together in a firm yet loving grip, and the way he minimized the chance of you two being detached by grinding on you rather than jackhammering his talented hips on you. It felt great because you were stimulated in different ways all at once, something you had never experienced before you met Mingi and while it took a while for you both to be able to understand what worked for each other, you both did a pretty good job of taking mental notes of what the other like.
Especially Mingi.
While Mingi had a rather higher level of libido, he found himself feeling even more pleasure when he was able to pleasure you. The idea of you unravelling from him, being so affected, it was an ego boost. And you supported that idea by letting him know that you have never felt like that before. From the moment he made the discovery, he began taking care of you more than he cared about taking care of himself. Technically, when he took care of you, he was most definitely taking care of himself. It was a win-win situation.
"F-fuck- Mingi!" You gasped, your free hand reaching to the back of his head to tug on the soft, short hair near his nape. The tug made Mingi let out a groan followed by a low hum, the lack of space between you two allowed the vibration to hover on the skin of your chest. "Don't do that, baby, I don't wanna go rough on you tonight," he mumbled as he pressed his forehead on yours, letting out a shaky breath before his hips moved even faster.
Maybe it was due to the denial of your previous release but you could feel your high coming. Your body gave away signs of your release and Mingi always seemed to notice it. The corner of his lips tugged upwards and the waves of hip rolls were given a slight edge when he started hitting you harshly. The impact caused you to almost got sent reeling back and on instinct, your free hand wound around his shoulder and held him close. "Fuck!" Mingi grunted when he felt your pebbled nipples rubbing against his chest and your voice echoing in his ears, turning his brain fuzzy. "Baby, I wanna cum in you but you gotta cum for me first, I wanna see you make a mess, can you do that?" It was almost comical that your cunt clenched around him when he said that but he couldn't find it in himself to make a comment.
With your feet locked behind him, resting right above the cute butt that you like to smack in passing, you locked his position and almost immediately, Mingi started pistoning his hips.
Obscene sounds came out of both of you be it from your mouths or from your bodies moving together. Had either of you had any shame left, a permanent blush would be tattooed on your cheeks and you would be sending your hotel neighbours apology letters and fruit baskets. But who cares about other people when one second you were holding onto your boyfriend for dear life and the next, your cunt had a vice grip that was hard enough to make Mingi hiss and still as he release his load in you when he felt your body trembling against his.
Mingi let out a silent huff followed by an almost silent 'fuck' which was only so because your orgasm caused your ear to ring. In the haze of your high, you could hear Mingi muttering about not wanting to cum that fast and blaming you for being too damn hot. If your face was not warm before, Mingi's cleverly veiled sexual compliment would've been able to allow you to warm up a hot pocket by just pressing it to your cheeks.
Sex with Mingi always took your breath away and it wasn't just because he fucks like a drill in an oil rig but it was also because it was... Him. Even as you lay there, trying to catch your breath, Mingi hovered above you with an arm propped so he could watch you.
"Stop looking at me like that!" you whined, trying to shield his gaze away by covering your face only for him to whine and shove your hands gently to the sides. "Like what, like you're the only person I've ever loved in my life?" he smirked, laughing when you smacked him square in his chest. "I'm gonna have to ask you to say that again so I can record it and send it to your mom," you teased, rolling your eyes as if you were annoyed but the slight tug on the corners of your lips gave your true feelings away.
"Are you okay now?" Mingi asked, asking if you'd fully caught your breath. Letting out one last sigh, you nodded, thinking that he was finally taking you out of the hotel.
But you soon found Mingi had another idea in mind because soon, he repositioned himself between your spread legs with a teasing glint in his eyes and the once softened cock coming back alive inside you.
"Great, because I'm not done with my plan on making this your best trip just yet."
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810 notes · View notes
beenbaanbuun · 9 hours
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country boy w/ mingi
thinking thoughts about country boy mingi who talks to you in a southern drawl as he leans his upper body on the bonnet of his truck. he’s so shameless with the way he looks you up and down, and you really don’t mind at all. in fact, you almost wish you could swap places with that stupid toothpick he keeps dangling from his pretty lips.
“don’t you think you ought to be getting home, doll?” he croons at you as you push yourself up to sit on the hood. the way your thighs spread against the red metal makes him salivate, but he’s a strong man. he can control himself, “i don’t think your daddy is my biggest fan; he wouldn’t appreciate you hanging around someone like me after sunset.”
as much as you hate to admit it, mingi is right; something about the farm boy from the neighbouring ranch just didn’t sit right with your daddy. maybe it’s his cocky way of speaking, or the rumours that get passed around town by all the pretty buckle bunnies who had their turn with him. the cowboy had built quite a reputation for himself, over the years. he likes to fuck and chuck; he’d rarely beds the same girl twice, and never more than three times. those brief encounters seem to be enough for most of the women you come across in the local bars—they do nothing but rave about how nonchalant and uncaring the cowboy is in bed. apparently, the way he fucks them hard and rough makes him all the more attractive.
yet he was never anything but soft with you. soft smiles, soft words, soft touches. just soft. if only your daddy could see the way he grins at you as he pulls the hat from his head and settles it atop yours, or the way his lithe fingers tighten the string around your chin to secure the hat in place. the deep chuckle that leaves him as the brim falls over your eyes goes straight to your chest, your heart beating unhealthily quick.
“my daddy doesn’t control me,” you push the brim up so you can see his pretty face. his skin is gorgeously tan from all those hours he spends in the field with his boss’s horses. you often watch him from your window, sketchbook in hand as you messily draw him over and over. he doesn’t look quite as good in graphite as he does through the glass of your bedroom window. seeing him like this, so close that you could touch him, is even better, “and i’m not really to go home yet. besides, didn’t you promise me a ride on mr campbell’s prize pony?
he smiles and it shines brighter than the sun that’s taking its time in sinking below the horizon. his laugh puts the sound of morning birds to shame. his skin is smoother than your daddy’s whiskey, and his eyes sharper than his switchblade. nothing compares to him, you figure as you gaze into his deep hazelnut eyes; you could watch him and never hunger for anything else. you’d be sustained for life.
“sure i did, doll,” he takes the toothpick out and flicks it to the ground. you watch as it lands in the dirt by his dusty leather boots before letting your eyes drag themselves back up his body to reach his eyes. every part of him is just as pretty as the next and you find that the more you stare, the more you want to have him, “but it’s getting to be dark soon, and like i said, your daddy doesn’t approve of me. i’m not quite good enough for his little princess, am i?”
“i think you’re good enough for me,” you blurt out, heat immediately rising to your face as you take in what you’ve just said. humiliating yourself in front of the man you’ve been dreaming about for years is never good, especially not when you see the man almost every day. you look to the floor, cursing yourself as you hear mingi hum in amusement. it’s not for long, though. he catches your chin on one long finger, drawing your eyes back up to his.
“i’m sure you do, doll,” his voice is teasing, as is his lopsided grin. it sends a shiver down your spine as he taunts you, “precious little thing, thinking i don’t see the way you stare at me from your window. i see the hearts in your eyes, y’know. the way they turn green whenever you see me with one of those towny girls. it's cute; you’re cute.”
a huge hand comes to rest on your exposed thigh. you freeze in place, eyes on his, heart in your mouth. then his other hand meets with your other thigh and without any resistance from you, he parts them just enough to shuffle his body between them. you swallow down the knot in your throat as he invades your personal space.
“part of me wants to agree with your daddy; you’re too good for me, doll. you deserve someone better,” his face is too close to yours. you’re holding your breath as if you might blow him away if you were to exhale. his own fans across your face, the scent of mint and menthol filling your senses. suddenly, it’s your favourite smell in the world, “but then again, i tend to be possessive over things i consider to be mine… and i don’t think i could bear it if i were to see my doll hanging off another man’s arm, hm?”
he whispers that last bit, the slow drawl of his accent echoing through your brain, turning your thoughts to mush. you’re sure he can see the effect he’s having on you; the shallow rise and fall of your chest, your swollen lip from where your teeth continuously tug against it, your glazed-over, thoughtless eyes. you’re also sure that it’s only serving to encourage him.
still, even if mingi currently has your legs in a gelatinous state and your heart ticking like a time bomb, your daddy didn’t raise a pushover. a princess, yes, but never a pushover. one of your (extremely shaky) hands finds its way to his chest, pushing at the linen-clad muscles ever-so-gently until he stumbles just a few inches back. despite your eyes not being able to find his face, you know you can do this.
“well, what about you?” your voice is feeble. you clear your throat in the hopes of making it stronger, “you think i like watching you flirt with other women? to hear all those nasty stories about what goes down in the bed of your truck?” the more you talk, the more your courage builds. you look him in the eye, only to see he’s still smirking. that beautiful, infuriating smirk, “you’re not the only possessive one, mingi. if i’m yours, you’re mine—”
the next few seconds happen in a flash, but you can pick out three key events. first, he bullies his way between your thighs again, pushing them wide and pulling you close until his pelvis is flush against yours. then, with a determined hand, he rips the hat away from your head, slamming it down onto the hood of his truck and making you jump. there’s almost no time between that and the final event, though, as before you can say a single thing more, a pair of determined lips find your own.
they’re hot as they trap you in a kiss, moving quickly and sloppily against your own. he’s quick to take charge, fingers pressing deep into the flesh of your thighs as he moves his lips against yours. it’s like he’s been waiting for this for years, and now that he’s finally got it, he’s not willing to let it go. desperate, and hard and fast, it makes your head spin in the most delicious way. so much so, in fact, that you can’t help but wrap your arms around his neck to act as some sort of stability as you melt into his touch.
he pulls away for mere seconds, just enough for you to catch your breath, before diving in for more. this time, he leads with his tongue, bullying his way into your mouth as soon as his lips are on yours again. there’s no fight for dominance, the both of you already knowing that he’s the one in charge of this whole ordeal. you just let yourself sink into it, enjoying every second of him devouring your mouth.
all you can hear is moans mixed with the sound of lips smacking against lips. you can’t tell where your moans finish and his start, but perhaps it just goes to show how in sync the two of you really are.
he finally pulls away again, for good this time, and a heavy sigh falls from his lips, “i’ve always been yours, doll,” his wet lips meet your neck, and you tip your head back as a moan tumbles from your parted lips, “from the moment i met you, i was yours.”
“what about—”
“gossip spreads in a small town like this,” he cuts you off, “not everything you hear is true. you have a one-night stand to get over a girl once and suddenly you’ve slept your way through the whole town. honestly, i’m kind of glad the story focuses on how good i am in bed and not on the way i cried about you after i came…”
you can’t stifle the giggle that bubbles from your throat as he nuzzles against your neck.
“you cried about me?” you laugh.
“multiple times, doll,” he confirms, “what can i say, i’m a softie at heart.”
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lilacmingi · 1 month
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WHEN YOU’RE ON YOUR PERIOD
My works are 14+ ONLY. If you’re under 14 DO NOT interact with me or any of my works
Pairing: ATEEZ x fem reader
Total word count: 8,580
Note: I tried to be vague here in terms of sanitary products since I know everyone has different preferences, but pads are mentioned in Mingi’s segment
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𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐉𝐎𝐎𝐍𝐆 | 홍중 | w.c. 900
Your eyes snapped open as you were awoken by a wave of painful cramps in your abdomen, the intensity so bad it made you physically react and curl in on yourself, your eyes squeezing shut in response. When that didn't bring any relief, you rolled over on your stomach, then onto your back with your arms resting on either side of your head as you stared at the ceiling.
You tried not to move around too much so as not to disturb your boyfriend, Hongjoong, who was sleeping soundly beside you. No doubt was he up half the night working on music, so you knew he needed his rest.
Quietly, you slipped out of bed to the bathroom and sifted thought your box of sanitary items to get something to put on before sliding back under the covers, silently praying the cramps would ease up enough for you to doze off.
Your fingers curled around the sheets, hands balled into fists as you tried to ignore the pain and go back to sleep. Minutes passed, though it felt like hours, and the cramps were too much to bare, so much that an unconscious, quiet whimper slipped past your lips, your face twisted in agony as you pressed it into your pillow. You didn't realize you had woken up your sleeping boyfriend until he called your name drowsily.
"Y/n? You alright?"
There was no hiding it at this point.
"Just my period. You should go back to sleep."
He ignored your suggestion and propped himself on his elbow, eyes scanning you worriedly. "Are you hurting?"
You nodded.
"Is it bad?"
"Enough to keep me from going back to sleep." You winced as another intense wave of cramps hit your lower abdomen.
"Do you need some medicine?"
"I didn't want to take any unless I absolutely have to."
"I think you need some." He commented, pulling back the covers.
"No." You put your hand out, stopping him from getting up. "You were up late and I'm sure you've got to go to the company and work on music later today."
"I can work on it here just the same as I can at work. I've got all my equipment with me."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes." He nodded. "I'd rather be here at home to help take care of you anyway."
With that, he got up out of bed and shuffled down the hallway to the kitchen where he grabbed a bottle of water and some pain medication to soothe your cramps.
"Here, love." He handed the bottle to you after returning to the bedroom, which you gratefully took, dropping a couple pills into your hand.
"Thanks." You popped the tablets into your mouth and washed them down with water before placing the bottle on the nightstand and slumping against the headboard with closed eyes.
A frown etched its way into Hongjoong's flawless features as he brought a hand up to brush your hair away from your face. Being a man, he was unsure of the amount of pain you were in or how intense it was. Despite that, he wanted to make sure you were as comfortable as possible during this time. He was fully aware that this was something you'd dealt with for a long time, yet he had a strong desire to care for you and help you through this time of the month. He cared for you too much to watch you suffer.
Your eyes opened to find Hongjoong still standing over you worriedly, his hand resting on top of your head.
"You can lay back down, you know." You chuckled softly.
He stayed in place for a couple seconds before giving in and crawling back into bed with you, his concerned gaze trained on you the entire time.
"Come here." You beckoned him over and he was by your side in an instant.
"Are you going to be okay?" He asked, his hand finding your lower abdomen and rubbing gentle circles over it.
"Of course I will. I just need to give this medicine time to kick in and do it's thing."
"How are your cramps?"
"They still hurt and I'm still uncomfortable, but the little massage feels nice."
"Good." He smiled, applying a little more pressure causing your eyelids to slide closed.
It's true, the massage was enough to lessen the pain, only the tiniest bit, but it was the gesture that counted.
"Are you feeling hot? Or cold? Are you getting chills? Do you need more blankets? If you're too hot I can turn the air conditioner up or bring a fan in here."
"You act like I'm sick or something." You tittered softly at his rambling. "This is just something I have to deal with every month. I'm used to it."
"That doesn't mean I can't take care of you."
"I guess you're right."
"I know I'm right." He grinned. "You still didn't answer my question."
A light chuckle left you. "I'm fine, Joong."
"Alright. I'll stop with the questions now. But if you need anything, and I mean anything, you let me know. If you're craving something specific or need another bottle of water, anything, just say something."
A fond smile graced your features as you brought your hand up to Hongjoong's hair, lovingly running your fingers through it. "What did I do to deserve you?"
"You're just lucky, I guess." He grinned.
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𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐖𝐀 | 성화 | w.c. 850
A knock at your front door sounded through your mostly quiet apartment as you lied in bed curled into a ball.
Not fully awake, you didn't register the persistent knocking for quite some time. Only when it got louder did you sit upright, letting out a frustrated groan. You had started your period the day before and your symptoms were terrible. Your cramps were so bad you had to lie down with a hot pack across your abdomen, the heat making you sweat, though every time you took the pack off, you got goosebumps along your skin and felt freezing cold. To make matters worse, there were breakouts on your face, blotting your skin with ugly, discolored spots, all of these things making you feel gross overall. You hoped whoever was at the door wasn't someone important as you went to answer it.
Your heart dropped to your feet when you saw your boyfriend standing outside.
"Seonghwa!" You exclaimed out of surprise, hurrying to cover your face. "What are you doing here?"
"I wanted to surprise you. Is it a bad time?"
Yes. Is what you wanted to say.
"I..." You trailed off.
"Are you sick?"
"No. I just look terrible right now."
"That doesn't bother me." He chuckled.
You flinched away when you felt his fingers trying to wrap around your wrists.
"No." You groaned, keeping your hands planted firmly on your face. "It's that time of the month and I'm sweaty, my clothes are soaked, my face is covered in breakouts, I'm bloated, and I'm cramping so so badly that I want to cry."
"Hey." He called out softly, pulling your hands away.
You avoided eye contact with him, not wanting him to see you in such a disheveled state.
His gaze softened when he looked at you, a gentle smile gracing his lips.
"You still look beautiful to me."
You wanted to roll your eyes, but you knew Seonghwa was a genuine person and maybe, even though it was hard to believe, you did look beautiful in his eyes.
"Come on. I have an idea." He took your hand, stepping into your apartment and closing the door behind him before leading you to your bathroom.
You weren't sure what he had in mind, but whatever it was he seemed pleased with himself, so you weren't going to stop him.
Once in your bathroom, he let go of your hand and started rummaging through your cabinets.
"Alright, let's see." He muttered to himself, scanning the items in your bathroom closet.
"Hwa, what are you doing?" You finally asked, a light chuckle accompanying your question.
"I'm giving you a spa day."
"A spa day?" You echoed, your heart fluttering slightly.
"Yeah." He pulled a towel and washcloth from the bathroom closet. "You're feeling bad and what better way to help than to have a spa day? Plus, you deserve to be pampered."
You didn't know if it was your period or your overwhelming love and appreciation for Seonghwa, but you felt like crying.
"Thank you."
"You're welcome, my love." He placed a kiss on your forehead. "Bath or shower?"
"Shower."
Though a bath would be nice, nothing beat the feeling of hot water hitting your lower abdomen, right where the cramps were.
Seonghwa was nice enough to get the shower running for you, sticking his hand in to check the water temperature and make sure it was hot enough.
You thanked him as he left the room, removing your clothes after the door clicked shut. The warm steam hitting your skin as you stepped into the shower was a welcomed feeling. You managed to get through your usual shower routine, the hot water helping to soothe your persistently painful cramps, at least long enough for you to finish bathing.
Once out of the shower, you changed into the fresh pair of clothes you brought with you and used the feminine product you had laid out.
Upon exiting the bathroom, you found Seonghwa laid out on your bed.
"How was your shower?"
"Wonderful. I even cleansed my face while I was in there. I feel so refreshed."
"Well, we're not done yet." He got up off the bed. "Come on."
Guiding you back into the bathroom, Seonghwa opened up a little cabinet beside your sink where all your skincare products were stored and pulled out a small box of acne patches.
He plucked one of the star-shaped pimple patches off the plastic sheet, gently instructing you to stay still while he placed the patch onto your face, covering one of the blemishes.
"One more." He murmured, pulling off a second one and sticking it to your chin.
"Thank you."
"You're welcome." He placed a kiss to your forehead. "Are you hungry? Would you like something to eat?"
"I'm fine for now. Thank you, though. What I would really like is to cuddle up in bed with you, a heating pad, and something to watch."
"I can arrange that." He smiled happily. "But first, let's get you some pain medicine for those pesky cramps."
"That sounds like a good idea."
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𝐘𝐔𝐍𝐇𝐎 | 윤호 | w.c. 1,500
Music echoed throughout the practice room as Yunho danced, hitting each move with sharp precision. His facial expressions were intense and full of emotion as if he were putting on an actual performance on stage in front of fans.
You sat in a chair by the wall, watching him with a mesmerized gaze, enraptured by not only him, but his talent and overflowing passion for dancing. Every so often he would glance at you through the mirror, giving you a little smirk before continuing with his routine, knowing the effect he had on you, especially with the sleeves of his t-shirt rolled up to show off his arms.
As you watched, you were suddenly hit with a wave of cramps so painful it caused you to lean forward a bit, almost curling in on yourself. Your face scrunched up in response to the sharp pain.
You had started your period the night before and was expecting to be hit with these terrible cramps sooner or later—it always happened. When you first start, things are light as your body prepares to run its natural cycle, then on the first official day it hits... and it hits hard. Normally, you're woken up in the early morning hours with the most awful cramps, one's that prevent you from sleeping for a while, but on days like this it hits when you're least expecting it.
Rummaging through your bag, you retrieved a small bottle of menstrual pain relief pills, grateful that you carried some with you at all times. Shaking one out into your palm, you grabbed the bottle of water by your chair and used it to take the medication, thankfully going unnoticed by Yunho. Though you wished it would work right away and rid you of this pain and discomfort, you knew that wouldn't happen.
Attempting to ignore the throbbing in your abdomen, you continued watching your boyfriend move across the wooden flooring of the practice room, hoping for a distraction.
Who were you kidding? Nothing could distract you from from the stabbing pain you were experiencing.
The song ended and Yunho moved over to mess with his phone, choosing another song to dance to, his chest heaving up and down as he huffed out short breaths.
"You're doing so good." You praised him, putting on a smile.
"Thanks." He panted. "I think I'm gonna do a couple more songs before I take a break."
"Don't overwork yourself, okay?"
"I know." He smiled softly, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your forehead.
The next song started to play and he moved back to the center of the room to begin the routine. You crossed your legs and wrapped your arms around your midsection, curling in a bit in an attempt to get some relief. It seemed one of the best positions to be in during your monthly was curling up in a ball, of course, you couldn't exactly do that right now as you were sitting in a chair.
Your cramps eased up for a moment only to return a few seconds later, goosebumps rising on your skin as the air in the practice room suddenly felt cooler than it was moments before. At the same time, you felt yourself starting to sweat a bit.
Great. You groaned internally.
These were the worst kind of cramps; the ones where you're hot but you're cold at the same time, unable to find a comfortable temperature.
Halfway through the song, Yunho noticed your behavior. He caught you squeezing your eyes shut every so often, seeing an uncomfortable expression on your face and the stiffness in your posture. His dancing immediately ceased as he headed towards you, turning the music down.
"Are you okay, love? You look a little washed out." He commented, placing his hand on your forehead. "What's going on?"
"I got hit with the worst cramps ever." You groaned, giving up your act as you slumped forward in both defeat and agony.
"Oh, baby." Yunho cooed, crouching on the floor beside you, his hand rubbing your back. "Do you need some medicine?"
"I took some a few minutes ago. Just waiting for it to kick in."
"Why don't I take you home so you can rest."
"No. You need to practice."
"I've been practicing long enough. You need to be somewhere with a heating pad."
"That sounds nice." You sighed, imagining the soothing heat pressed against your aching lower abdomen.
"Let's go."
"I can't help but feel like I'm preventing you from practicing." You murmured after stepping into the elevator.
"You're not." He assured you, grabbing hold of your hand. "I wanted to get a little practice in and I did."
The last thing you wanted was to be a burden. Yunho was a famous K-pop idol whose group had a giant fanbase. He needed to practice hard and spend hours at the company to perfect and improve his dancing and performance skills. Somehow, you felt you were a distraction that would cause your boyfriend to get in trouble with the entertainment company for "slacking off".
Yunho, who could tell by the distant look in your eyes that you were lost in a whirl of troublesome and perhaps even negative thoughts, gave your hand a light squeeze, bringing you back to reality.
"Are you hungry?" He asked. "Dancing really worked up my appetite."
"Yeah." You nodded. "I had a light breakfast so I could definitely go for some food."
"Good. We can go back to the dorm and I'll order us something. You can pick whatever you want. Oh, I have a heating pad too. That should help with your cramps."
"But I don't have any... stuff there." You responded.
You had one or two menstrual items with you in your bag, but that wouldn't be enough to last you a visit at Yunho's.
"Oh. Don't worry about it. I can stop by a store on the way and buy whatever you need."
His offer was so sweet it had you falling for him all over again.
"You don't have to do all that."
"I don't mind." His round eyes sparkled with the genuine desire to help you out in any way he possibly could.
The elevator doors slid open and the both of you headed through the lobby and out onto the sidewalk where Yunho's car was parked on the curb.
At the dorm, Yunho handed you the plastic bag with the feminine products he had purchased for you on the way.
"What would you like to eat? I can go ahead and order it."
After going through a list of things you were craving, you decided on one and let Yunho know.
Just before he left the room to place the order, he stopped at the doorway. "If you want to change into something more comfortable, you have free range of my closet."
As soon as he left the room, you wasted no time scurrying over to his closet and rummaging through his shirts. What you currently had on was comfortable, but there was no way you'd pass up the opportunity to wear Yunho's clothes.
Pulling one of your favorite shirts of his from the closet, you brought it with you to the bathroom where you switched out feminine products and changed into the cozy shirt.
Yunho returned just a couple minutes later to inform you the order had been placed before rummaging through his closet, pulling out a heating pad.
"Come on." He beckoned, pulling back the covers of his bed and nodding towards the empty space.
You slid under the sheets, staring up at Yunho who worked to plug up the pad.
"You should lie down and use this while we wait on the food. Then maybe your cramps will be gone and you can fully enjoy your meal."
Your heart swelled with adoration at his words.
Yunho laid the heating pad across your stomach before resting his hand on top of it.
"How's that feel?" His gentle voice asked.
"So good." You sighed out, closing your eyes. "My cramps eased up a bit on the ride over here, but this heat is doing wonders."
"Good." The smile in Yunho's voice was evident as he leaned in, brushing your hair away from your forehead to place a gentle kiss there.
You peeled your eyes open to see Yunho grabbing his dog-shaped body pillow which he designed for his birthday merchandise.
"Here. You can hold Pudeongie."
You chuckled, taking the pillow from him and hugging it to your side. Though you preferred to cuddle with Yunho, you couldn't exactly do that with the heating pad laying over your lower abdomen.
"Thank you for taking care of me." You hummed.
"You're welcome, beautiful." He combed a hand through your hair. "I need to get a quick shower and wash all this sweat off. Then we can cuddle properly while we wait for our food."
A content smile settled onto your features. "That sounds perfect."
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𝐘𝐄𝐎𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐆 | 여상 | w.c. 1,000
Twice. That's how many times you cried over a commercial that day. Why? Well, you were blaming it on your period, especially since grocery store commercials didn't normally tug at your heartstrings on a normal day. I mean, how can you possibly keep it together when there's a commercial about an animated man who's little granddaughter pulls out an old recipe book from his deceased wife that he hadn't opened in years?
You were wiping away tears that were threatening to spill when your phone chimed from its spot beside you on the couch. Flipping the device over, you were met with your boyfriend's contact photo taking up the entirety of your screen. It was a FaceTime call. Your thumb swiped to accept the call, holding the phone up so he could see you.
"Hi, angel." He flashed that heart-melting smile of his, waving to the camera.
Judging by the background, he was at his dorm in his bedroom.
"Hi, Sangie."
His large eyes suddenly became sad, worried even, while his lips stuck into a pout. "Were you crying? Are you okay?"
"Oh." You glanced at yourself in the camera, noticing the slightly glossy look your eyes were currently sporting.
It wasn't super obvious that you had been tearing up, but Yeosang was always so perceptive when it came to you.
"My emotions are all crazy. I got choked up watching a commercial." You chuckled, finding it a bit humorous.
"So you're not sad?" He wanted to be certain that you weren't upset.
"No." You laughed softly. "Just hormonal."
Yeosang's brows raised, his eyes becoming wider in sudden realization. Then came the flood of questions.
"Do you need anything? Are you hurting? Should I pick up some pads? Tampons? Do you have enough pain relievers? Are you drinking lots of water? I heard being active helps cramps. Have you been active? Are you taking vitamins? There are supplements that help ease period symptoms. Should I get you some of those?"
"I'm fine, Yeosang." You cut in before he could continue, chuckling endearingly at his concerned rambling. "I'm not hurting too bad. It's only the third day so my cramps aren't too bad. They come and go, but they're not as severe as they were on day one. Yes I'm drinking water, maybe not enough, but I'm drinking it. And I've been lounging on the couch since I got out of bed."
"Ah. Sorry. I guess I got carried away." That tiny, shy smile of his made its appearance as he rubbed the back of his neck in a sheepish manner. "Have you been eating fruits or something healthy?"
You nearly snorted. "Actually, I've been indulging in some of the cravings I've been having." You lifted a bag of your favorite chips to the camera. "So, what are you up to?"
"I called because I don't have a schedule today and I wanted to see if you'd like to hang out."
Just the thought of spending time with Yeosang made your heart soar with excitement.
"I would love to."
"Since you're on your period, I'll come to your place. If that's okay with you."
"Yeah." You nodded. "That's perfect, actually."
"Okay." He beamed. "I'll start making my way right now."
"I'll be waiting." You waved. "Love you."
"Love you too."
The FaceTime ended and you tossed your phone back to the couch cushion, briefly considering wether or not you should leave your comfortable spot on the sofa and put some makeup on. It didn't take long for you to to completely disregard the idea. After all, you had just FaceTimed him and he saw your makeup-free (and slightly blemished) face so there was no need covering it up.
A gentle knock on your front door sounded just fifteen minutes after your call with Yeosang. You leapt from your seat and scurried to answer the door. The man you had been longing to see stepped inside, wrapping his arms around you in a cozy embrace while he gently rocked the both of you side to side.
"I'm so happy to see you."
"I'm happy to see you too, precious." He pulled away, gazing at you with those sparkly, brown eyes of his. "Are you feeling alright?"
"I'm cramping, but it's nothing too bad. Not right now, anyway."
"You sure?"
"Mhm."
"What do you feel like doing?"
"Well, I was watching TV on the couch but I'd kind of like to lie down."
"Okay then we'll cuddle in bed and have a movie marathon."
You hummed in agreement and tugged Yeosang further into your home, guiding him to your bedroom where the both of you got comfortable under the covers.
Your boyfriend had barely gotten situated before you were resting your head on his chest and snuggling into his side.
It was a blessing that Yeosang wanted to come over because it's exactly what you needed at that moment. Being cuddled up next to him made your heart swell and provided you with a cozy feeling in your chest.
"What would you like to watch?" He reached for the remote.
"Actually, do you think you could sing to me?"
Yeosang stiffened just the slightest bit, clearly not expecting the request.
"Of course. Any song suggestions?"
"Whatever you want to sing." You murmured, snuggling further into his chest.
A gentle smile graced Yeosang's statuesque features as he began singing a current favorite song of his. His fingers ran through your hair in a gentle and soothing manner, your eyes fluttering closed in response as you listened to his silky voice, which was doing a great job at distracting you from your cramps that were thankfully going away on their own, albeit slowly.
Yeosang's voice was heavenly. From his low register to his faint lisp that could be heard in his singing. It all had your heart doing somersaults in your chest.
"So beautiful." You murmured sleepily, as Yeosang's gentle ministrations were making you drowsy. "Thank you, Yeo."
This was all you needed.
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𝐒𝐀𝐍 | 산 | w.c. 1,400
4 AM. That's what time you were finally able to get to sleep the night before. It was that time of the month and your incessant cramps were so bad not even Midol could fix it. You were miserable. Normally, you could ignore any mild cramps that would inconveniently hit just as you were going to bed, but these were the kind that kept you awake, the pain just a little too intense for you to relax, leaving you tossing and turning for hours on end. Between the cramps and having to get up to pee every five minutes, there was no way you could rest.
It was after barely after 4 AM when your cramps eased up just enough for you to relax and finally doze off.
Presently, it was 12 PM, which meant you got a decent eight hours of sleep, even though your body felt like it needed just a smidge more.
You pushed yourself out of bed, giving a brief glance at the fitted sheet wrapped around the mattress to make sure you didn't have any overnight leaks. With no stains in sight, you shuffled to the bathroom where you went through your usual routine and freshened up, which woke you up a bit and made you feel a little less crappy.
You swapped your PJs for some loose-fitting sweats and one of your boyfriend's shirts that he left at your place before heading to the living room to turn on the television. After a few moments of mindless channel surfing, you found a show that grabbed your attention and decided to watch.
It didn't take long for your cramps to start up again. The ache, while annoying, wasn't anything too unbearable, not like last night, anyway. So you ignored it, sinking further into the couch cushions while keeping your eyes locked on the TV.
You made it through the remainder of the episode before the cramps really ramped up, the sudden increase in pain and discomfort causing you to lurch forward.
Your face contorted in agony, the sharp jabs in your abdomen leading you to jump to your feet and make a beeline for the kitchen where the medicine was kept. You tore open the cabinet and located the pain medicine you so desperately needed. Since your cramps were just as bad as they were in the early morning hours, you took two pills, assuring you'd get the minimum amount of pain relief.
With a hot pack laid across your lower abdominal area, you settled back into the couch cushions and proceeded to watch television, doing your best to focus on the show. Sometimes having a distraction helped to take your attention off the wrath Mother Nature was thrusting upon your uterus.
At some point, you unconsciously started rocking back and forth, partially hunched over. The heat paired with the movement seemed to be helping just a little, however now a very thin layer of sweat covered your forehead and on your shirt where the hot pack was pressed against your abdomen was a damp spot. You huffed, pulling off the hot pack to fan your shirt a bit and cool off. That only caused a wave of goosebumps to rise along your skin, the air in your home being a little too cold for your linking. So you laid the hot pack back across your abdomen. This went back and forth for the next ten minutes or so, only adding to your frustration and discomfort.
"Ha. Ha. I love being a woman." You commented dryly to no one at all, wrapping your arms around your midsection.
You probably looked pathetic all crumpled up and curled in on yourself but you were in the privacy of your own home and you were in extreme pain. You'd do whatever it took to get it to go away.
The stabbing cramps had gotten so bad in such a short amount of time. Your brain was in a haze and all you could think about was the pain. Just when you felt you had reached your limit, your phone rang.
Fumbling for the device, you lifted it to see who was calling. It was San, your loving boyfriend whom you were suddenly missing very much. You accepted the call and raised the phone to your ear.
"Hello, gorgeous." His silky voice came through the speaker.
"Hi, Sannie." You did your best to sound cheery, but the greeting came out as a sort of pained grunt.
"Are you okay?" The pout in his voice was evident.
"No. Not really." You answered honestly. "I'm on my period."
A tiny gasp was heard on his end followed by an, "Oh no."
"Yeah."
"You poor thing." He cooed. "Why don't I come take care of you."
"That would be great."
"I'll be over there as soon as I can, baby."
Less than 20 minutes later, there was a knock at your door which had your heart jumping for joy. As soon as you opened the door, San walked in and pulled you into a hug.
"Hi dear." He murmured as he stroked the top of your head. "Are you hurting?"
"Very much so."
"Ah." He nodded knowingly as you parted ways. "I know what I have to do."
He balled his hands into fists, crouching down at bit so he was level with your lower abdomen. Before you had the chance to question what he was doing, he began to punch the area where your uterus was, stopping right in front of it because, well, he would never actually hit you.
"Stop!" He demanded sharply, going in for another punch. "Stop it."
The phrase was uttered during each strike of his fist, his words being punctuated by his actions.
The chuckles that had begun to spill from your lips were now turning into full on laughter as your boyfriend continued punching at your lower abdomen, demanding that it "stop".
"Thank you, Sannie." You giggled.
The both of you made yourselves comfortable on the couch where San immediately wrapped his arms around you and held you close.
"If you need anything, let me know."
"Okay." You tittered softly.
Having San with you provided a good enough distraction to take your mind off the discomfort in your abdominal area. He would make comments about something on TV and ask questions to help keep you occupied with things besides period pains.
At some point, you stood up and excused yourself to go switch feminine products, doing so in just a couple minutes.
It was only when you were returning to the living room that you realized your abdominal cramps had gone away but a persistent, dull ache had become present in your lower back.
Your face twitched slightly as you shuffled towards the couch, catching your always observant boyfriend's attention.
"What is it?" He asked.
"I'm having cramps in my back."
"You have period cramps in your back?" San asked in disbelief.
"Sometimes." You sighed, unconsciously massaging your lower spine.
Your boyfriend was baffled. San knew periods could be a pain and there were lots of symptoms that varied in intensity, but this was crazy. Why would you get pain in other areas? He didn't think that was very fair.
"Come here." San took your hands, leading you to your bedroom where he insisted you lie down on your stomach.
You did as he asked, getting yourself comfortable on the mattress before feeling it dip under San's weight.
"Tell me where it hurts." His hands placed themselves on your spine.
"Lower."
His palms slid further down your back.
"Right there."
San's thumbs rubbed over the muscles a few times, making long upward strokes as he applied pressure on the sore spots. A sigh passed through your slightly parted lips as relief washed over you.
"Is that good?" He inquired tentatively.
"So good."
San hated that this was something you had to deal with every month. Even though that's just how things were and he couldn't do anything about it, it didn't seem fair.
"I'm sorry you're feeling so icky, pretty."
"I'm far from pretty right now." You chuckled.
"Not true."
His ministrations came to a halt as you lifted your head just enough to glance back at him.
"I'm serious." He insisted with a pout.
"You're too sweet." You dropped your head back onto the pillow as he continued massaging.
"Only for you, lovely."
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𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐈 | 민기 | w.c. 900
If there was one thing about your period, it was that it showed up at the most inconvenient time.
Mingi's body moved with such fluidity that it had you mesmerized—hypnotized, even. His body control was out of this world and never failed to hold your attention. His oversized sleeveless tee hung off his slim figure, the thin fabric swinging about as he danced with rigor and passion. His movements were so intense sometimes that the hem of his shirt would fly up and reveal his tiny waist and smooth stomach. The sight was a small blessing to your eyes and just another perk of watching him get in an extra practice session on his weekend off. His brows were pulled together in concentration, his sharp eyes fixed on his reflection, inspecting his own movements. He had no idea you were practically drooling over him in the corner of the room.
You were having a wonderful time when suddenly you felt it... the gush.
Right away, you sat upright and pushed yourself up from your seat, standing stiffly in place.
This abrupt and unusual reaction caught Mingi's attention almost immediately and had him scrambling to pause the music.
"What's wrong? Are you okay?"
"Yeah. I just need to go to the bathroom." You excused yourself and headed straight for the practice room door, trying your best to walk normally instead of the usual stiff-legged hobble you would be doing if you were at home.
You had started your period the day prior and it was already in full swing, hitting you with all it had. This morning before you left, everything was light, so you assumed this time around you'd ease into it, but you were so very wrong.
In the bathroom, you closed the stall door behind you, making sure to lock it before taking a seat to assess the damage.
"Oh boy." You whispered under your breath, reaching for your bag and rummaging for an extra pad in the inner side zipper. Empty.
Oh no.
Normally, you had extra feminine hygiene products with you, however, it seemed this time you had forgotten to replace them.
Great.
After washing your hands, you returned to the practice room, shifting from one foot to the other. It appeared that Mingi hadn't moved since you left the room, his normally narrow eyes now round with worry.
"Is everything okay?"
"Uh." You rubbed the back of your neck.
Just say it. It's a normal thing, Y/n. You reminded yourself. There's nothing to be embarrassed about.
"I don't have any pads with me." You confessed embarrassedly.
Mingi blinked owlishly a few times, not quite understanding what you meant.
You gave a vague nod down towards your lower half, trying to communicate without saying it outright.
Mingi's eyes became wider in realization.
"Ohh!"
"Yeah." You sighed. "I forgot to put more in my bag and I need one... like right now."
You were about to apologize for needing to leave so abruptly so you could take care of the problem when Mingi spoke up.
"Stay here. I'll go find you one."
"What?" You questioned, your eyes following him as he hurriedly exited the practice room.
Without receiving a response, you dropped down into the chair you occupied before your hasty exit moments earlier, waiting patiently for your boyfriend to return.
Mingi moved down the halls of KQ, searching for any staff that may be nearby. He popped his head into empty offices and meeting rooms, turning corners and scouring the place for any employees wandering about. The entertainment company had many staff members, so it shouldn't be that hard.
He came upon one of the lounges, poking his head into the room to find two female staff members having a quick snack together.
"Excuse me." He spoke timidly, suddenly feeling a little embarrassed to ask for feminine products. "Do either of you happen to have any... pads?"
He was quick to put himself back in place, reminding himself that he was helping you out.
You were his girlfriend and if you needed a pad then gosh darn it he was going to get one for you, embarrassed or not.
"Oh. I'm sorry I don't." One of the women apologized.
"I do, but I left my bag in my office on the next floor." The other responded.
"Ah."
Mingi didn't want to inconvenience the woman, especially since she probably had a busy schedule so he thanked them both and left, continuing his search.
He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth while his eyes darted around, reading the labels on each door that lined the hall in search of his next place to check.
After three tries, Mingi was able to get you a pad, which he hoped was enough to sustain you for the duration of his solo practice.
Your boyfriend reentered the practice room, holding up the plastic-wrapped square like it was a trophy.
"I got it."
You plucked the item from his hand, pulling him into a hug.
"You didn't have to do that. I was just gonna go to a nearby store and buy some."
"I knew I could find one quicker by asking around."
You smiled softly. "Thank you."
"Of course." He brushed your hair out of your face. "You feeling alright?"
"For now."
"If you need to go home, just let me know."
"I will. Thanks, Mingi."
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𝐖𝐎𝐎𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐆 | 우영 | w.c. 980
You stepped down the aisle that housed all the feminine products you could ever need, Wooyoung coming to a stop beside you as you eyed the pad and tampon section.
"So what size pu—"
"Don't even finish that sentence." You cut him off, raising your hand to stop him. "I don't want to hear that phrase or that word come out of your mouth."
"Yes ma'am." He saluted.
Huffing, you proceeded further down the aisle until you found what you were looking for.
While scanning the different sizes of products available on the shelves, your ever curious boyfriend wandered up and down the aisle to keep himself busy.
Once you acquired what you were looking for, you turned to see Wooyoung holding a box of tampons, examining the packaging.
"You put these inside you?" He asked in disbelief.
"Woo, put those back."
He did as he was told, his face twisted in either disgust or discomfort, you couldn't tell, as he did so.
"Alright. I've got everything I need." You announced, preparing to head to the register until you realized Wooyoung stayed put, staring with furrowed brows at the plethora of feminine products lining the shelves.
"What is it?"
"Why are there so many?" He asked. "How do you even know what to get?"
"It all depends on what you're comfortable with. Some people prefer tampons, others prefer pads."
"Okay but the pictures on these are different." He pointed to a section of pads.
"Right. Some have wings so the pad stays in place and doesn't squish up and some don't. Again, that's all depending on personal preference. Some pads are thin while others are thick so they can absorb more. They vary in size as well. Some people like longer pads so they don't have a leak while they're sleeping or lying down."
Wooyoung's eyes remained wide, his brows pulled together as he soaked in all this new information, scanning over each plastic package.
"How do you know if you need thin pads or thick ones?"
"That depends on your flow."
"Flow?" He echoed.
You did not expect to be having an in-depth conversation about periods with your boyfriend in the middle of the feminine hygiene aisle but there you were.
Then again, he grew up with brothers. Of course he wouldn't know everything about a woman's menstrual cycle. Also you didn't think that was something that a mother would talk to her son about, especially in detail.
"You know how you can barely turn a faucet on and the water runs just a little, but when you turn it more, a lot of water comes out?"
He nodded.
"That's how it is with periods."
"So you can turn it off?"
"Unfortunately not. That's why we need these things." You gestured to the array of feminine products. "What I mean is, with some people their flow is heavy while others are lighter, so you buy products according to that."
"It's not the same for everyone?"
"Not at all. Some people have very heavy flows. I've even heard of people buying bladder leak pads because they're more absorbent."
"It gets that bad?" Wooyoung gaped.
"Mhm." You nodded.
"And it's the same for the other things too?"
"Tampons."
"Right. That."
"Yes. They've got different sizes according to your flow as well."
"Wow. That's so complicated."
"Not when you've lived with it most of your life." You chuckled. "Let's go."
"Girls get cravings for chocolate when they're on their period, right?" Wooyoung asked as the both of you made your way towards the front of the store.
"It's not always chocolate, but yes. Cravings tend to happen." You responded.
"What do you usually crave?" He asked.
"Usually sweet stuff, but it differs."
"Should I get you some?"
Your expression softened as you looked at him, seeing the genuine care in his eyes.
"Sure."
"Come on then. Let's go see what they have." Wooyoung took hold of your free hand, pulling you towards the snack aisle which was packed with junk food and sweets.
You perused the shelves, trying to figure out what sounded good at the moment.
"Pick whatever you want." Wooyoung told you. "My treat."
That made you stop. "What?"
"Your period stuff, snacks, I'll pay for all of it."
For someone who was making period jokes earlier, he sure was being sweet.
You leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his cheek, thanking him for his thoughtful offer.
On the way home, you decided to tease Wooyoung since he barely knew anything about periods, curious to see his reaction to a particular prank you'd seen circulating the internet.
"Did you know pads and tampons come in different flavors?"
Wooyoung's eyes widened. "Flavors?"
"Yeah. Didn't you notice the colors and pictures on the packaging?"
"Yes."
"The color is whatever flavor they are. Green is green apple, purple is grape, pink is strawberry and so on."
"Wait really?"
"Yeah."
"Why? What's the point?"
You shrugged, holding back a grin.
"Are you being serious right now? Do they really have flavors?"
"No." You laughed, throwing your head back as you let loose a string of cackles.
"Y/n, that's so mean." Wooyoung pouted. "I almost believed you."
"Sorry." You laughed. "I just wanted to see if I could get by with it."
"I bought you snacks." His full lips were stuck out as he spoke, his arms crossed over his chest.
"I was just teasing, love." You nudged him.
Unable to keep up his act any longer, Wooyoung cracked a small smile.
"That was pretty good, actually."
"I know." You grinned.
"I think you should make it up to me though"
"How?" Your eyes narrowed, wondering what sort of deal he was preparing to strike up.
"Play video games with me when we get home."
A smiled made its way onto your face at his proposal. "I think that can be arranged."
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𝐉𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐎 | 종호 | w.c. 1,050
The sunlight that seeped in through the window hit your closed eyelids, the intrusion pulling you from your sleep just enough to make you aware of it. You rolled over in bed keeping your eyes shut, snuggling further into your plush pillow. As you slowly began to wake, you stretched your arm across the bed, reaching for Jongho only to be met with an empty space, the palm of your hand hitting the sheets that were crumpled from being haphazardly tossed back into place. The lack of his presence made you frown, sitting up on your elbow while searching the room.
All thoughts of your temporarily missing boyfriend flew right out the bedroom window as a sticky and somewhat uncomfortable feeling below caught your attention. The all too familiar heart-stopping feeling was something you knew well. Without wasting another second, you shot up out of bed, jerking back the covers to find an ugly, red stain on the fitted sheet.
"No, no, no, no, no." You murmured the same word over and over again in a panic.
This was Jongho's bed and it was his sheets you'd just ruined.
"Crap." You hissed, rushing to your bag to grab an extra pair of underwear and fresh pants, taking your toiletry bag with you as you slipped into the bathroom to clean yourself up. While in the bathroom, you managed to get most of the bloodstain off your panties thanks to some cold water and hand soap, which seemed to do the trick. The process was repeated for your pajama bottoms.
Once you were finished, you went back to Jongho's room and promptly stripped his bed, wadding your stained underwear and pajama pants up with them.
You weren't sure where Jongho was, but you hoped you could make it to the laundry room without being noticed.
The universe must've been against you because as soon as you stepped out of the bedroom, Jongho was standing there in the hallway.
"Jongho." You uttered his name dumbly.
"Y/n, you're awake." He smiled softly, his eyes dropping down to the crumpled wad of fabric in your arms. "Why do you have the sheets?"
"I sweat pretty bad last night." You lied. "I didn't want to leave your sheets stinky so I'm going to wash them."
"Oh. You don't have to do that. I can wash them."
You pulled the heap away from him just as he reached out to take them from you. "It's okay. I got it. Really."
He held his hands up in surrender. "Alright."
You hurried past him and into the laundry room, lying the sheet across the top of the washer and dryer along with your underwear and pajama bottoms as you rummaged through Jongho's detergent to see if he had a stain stick or something to pretreat the splotch before tossing it into the wash.
You pushed past bleach, fabric softener, and laundry scent crystals, but you couldn't seem to find any stain remover.
Jongho heard your noisy rummaging from the other room, going to check on you and see if you needed any help. When he stepped into the laundry room he saw his sheets laid out, a dark red stain standing out against the gray fabric. Along with it was your panties and the pair of pajama bottoms you had worn to bed the night before, an equally as noticeable stain on them as well.
Your eyes were blown wide like a deer in the headlights as embarrassment and mortification hit you like a massive wave, your entire face set on fire due to the situation.
Not only had Jongho seen the ugly stain you left on his (probably expensive) sheets, but your underwear and pajama bottoms as well.
You should have moved. You should have scrambled to grab your panties and hidden them behind your back, but you were completely frozen in place, unable to move. As if that wasn't bad enough, you could feel what was sure to be a painful series of cramps coming on in your lower abdomen.
Jongho's eyes met yours and you let loose, sputtering what could only be classified as word vomit.
"I'm so sorry I ruined your sheets. I promise I'll get the stain out. I know it's gross and it's embarrassing."
"It's not gross." He responded, his expression showing no disgust whatsoever. "You can't control it."
"What?"
Jongho shrugged. "It's only natural."
You couldn't ignore the way your heart thumped. Of course Jongho wouldn't think something like this was a big deal. You should've known better. Nothing ever phased him.
Jongho's eyes drifted back over to the sheets on the washer where your undergarment was still laid out for him to see.
"Don't look at those." You stepped in front of your unmentionables to block his view.
"Why?" He chuckled amusedly. "It's just underwear. You've seen mine before."
"That's because you don't know how to keep your room clean and they're tossed on the floor."
"Touché. But it's still just underwear. No big deal." He stepped forward, rubbing the top of your head. "You're worrying too much, pretty."
You huffed softly, sticking out your bottom lip in reluctant defeat.
"Now let's take care of these sheets. What were you looking for in here?"
"Something to pretreat the stain."
"Ah." Jongho moved over to his laundry products, pulling out a spray bottle. "I believe this is what you were searching for. This should do the trick. I've used it to get coffee stains out of my clothes plenty of times. Works like a charm."
"Thanks." You took the bottle from him and sprayed the stains on everything before tossing them into the washing machine.
"I'll start the wash." Jongho volunteered, messing with the settings and starting the laundry cycle.
He came up and rubbed your back soothingly.
"You feeling alright?"
"For now. The cramps haven't started up yet, but I'm sure they will."
"If they do, I've got a heating pad you can use."
Your gaze softened while a gentle smile graced your features. "Thank you."
"Of course." He stroked your hair in a caring manner. "Are you hungry? You want anything to eat?"
"Some breakfast sounds nice."
"Alright. I'll make you your favorite." He pressed a kiss to your forehead. "You just sit and I'll make it."
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kitten4sannie · 4 months
Text
ᴄʀᴀᴢʏ ꜰᴏʀᴍ | ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏɴᴇ
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pairing: dilf! san x boytoy! wooyoung x fem! reader
genre: smut <3
summary: you search for a rebound at your local club after a break up. the club owner and his favorite boyfriend are there to satisfy your needs.
w.c: 3.3k
warnings: daddy dom kinda switch! san (almost chewed my fingers off writing him like this trust), dom! wooyoung (he’s kinda passively there when it comes to reader but i promise he’ll be more prominent in part two~), subby good girl! reader, woosan, alcohol use, reader is not drunk but sufficiently tipsy, daddy kink, dirty talk, pet names (angel, princess, pretty girl, etc), teasing, possessiveness, praise, voyeurism/exhibitionism, body worship, grinding, kissing, marking, fingering, double? blowjob? idk (san gets head while giving it too oop-) , deep-throating, slight hair pulling, snowballing
a/n: hii guess who’s back from the dead just in time for the cb? <3 and i brought a present ~ a naughty one hehe :3 the inspo came from those pics above bc they look so expensive and cunty and so yummy ugh and THEN san decided to strip at the mama awards and now i’m ILL and ready to howl at the moon anyways !!this is out of pocket like usual and i put my whole kitty into it okayyy so i hope you enjoy and pls lemme know if you’re excited for part two >< <33
song rec: incubator by ph-1, gun by doja cat, wine pon you also by doja cat feat. konshens (every time i hear the last part it reminds me of san’s dance cover hnnnnhgg)
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“Girl, you better slow down on that drink,” the woman sitting beside you at the bar warned, resting her forearms down on the cool surface of the sleek marble countertop, continuing to watch you slurp down a long island iced tea. “I’m not about to hold your hair up for you later.”
“Can you leave me alone? I’m grieving over here, god,” you whined to her with your straw still in between your pouting, quivering lips, your eyes brimming with tears. “And for the record, he broke up with me over text. Text.”
She shook her head. “You are not about to cry over a man right now.”
You pushed your empty glass away, before dramatically pointing a finger into your chest, causing the strap of your dress to droop down your shoulder a bit. “You’re right, but I can still be a mess if I want to, thank you very much.”
“Well, you’re certainly achieving that,” she stated, idly sipping on her own drink, looking you up and down until you felt like you had to prove something to her.
“Okay, fuck this,” you muttered, pushing yourself off of the barstool and pulling your dress down where it was beginning to rise up near your ass, sniffling a bit.
“Where are you going?”
Pulling out a small tube from the v-neck of your dress to apply a fresh coat of lip gloss, you smacked your lips together and motioned your hand to the vast amounts of sweaty, drunk people grinding on each other on the opposite side of the club. “I’m gonna get some rebound dick. Don’t wait up.”
The woman smiled to herself as she watched you disappear into the sea of people, still just sipping on her drink. Little did you know, someone else was already waiting for you in that crowd. And they came as a package deal.
-
“I want her, Sannie,” Wooyoung chimed to the older man that was sitting beside him on the comfy VIP couch, the man’s arm wrapped protectively around his waist. The younger man took a finger off of his fruity drink to point at the woman that was feeling herself up with her body pressed to an unnamed man on the dance floor across from them, charmed by the unbothered, almost melancholic expression imprinted on her flushed face, like she was just waiting for someone like them to take care of her, to make her pretty face flush for a different reason.
San followed Wooyoung’s manicured nail until it led to the sight of you, a few wrinkles etched into his skin near his lips and where his eyes creased with amusement. “Mmm. Shall I leave you to your own devices then? Daddy can watch you seduce that pretty girl from here, can’t he?” His smile deepened when Wooyoung shifted beside him, his thigh pressing into San’s larger one, knowing his plaything was already getting hot under the collar. San held Wooyoung’s chin between his ringed fingers, leaning in to murmur, “And you’ll be a good boy and bring her to me once you get her nice and wet, won’t you?”
“Yes, Daddy,” Wooyoung replied breathily, barely getting his words out when the man pulled him in for a heated kiss.
Just when Wooyoung began to lean into him, his hands resting on San’s leather-bound chest, the older man broke the kiss, wiping the other’s saliva from his mouth. “Get going, naughty boy.”
Despite being dizzy with need, Wooyoung nodded, obediently nodding as he stood up from the couch. He fixed his hair and checked his makeup, before heading into the sea of sweaty, lust-drunk people to find you.
You were almost too busy rolling your body along to the hypnotic flow of the house track that was bumping through the speakers around you to notice the warmth of someone else pulling you near him, his hand sliding onto the small of your back and his lips against your ear, goosebumps forming across your skin.
“Can I steal you away?” Wooyoung whispered in a low voice, smiling at your slow nod, your eyes practically dilating at the sight of him. You didn’t know angels frequented night clubs. That was news to you. The both of you silently watched as his veiny hands slowly slid onto your hips, his fingers squeezing into them just enough to make you shiver.
He brought you back against him with a gentleness that made you a little weak in the knees, moving his hips against yours, guiding you against his body to the pulsing beats of the song.
Desperate to be needed by the obscenely attractive stranger, you took it upon yourself to grind back against him, feeling his cock harden against your ass through his satin pants.
“Fuck, baby, don’t you know what’ll happen if you keep doing that?” he exhaled into your ear, his fingers moving down slightly to squeeze your thighs.
You turned your head back to meet his searing gaze, licking your lips, your eyelids lowering. “What’s going to happen?”
Glancing to the side to make sure San was still watching, which he was, with a hand clutching his upper thigh, Wooyoung looked back to you, his hands moving further outwards to feel the sides of your ass, encouraging your dress to move up little by little, replying, “We’ll have to play with you, angel.”
“Yes, please,” you breathed out, resting your head against his chest, allowing him to feel up your body, his hands groping along your abdomen to your tits, the cogs inside your head moving at a slower rate than usual. “Wait…did you just say…we’ll?” Just as you spoke, Wooyoung reached around to grasp your chin and guide it to the side, allowing you to spot the fiery-headed gentleman manspreading on the VIP couch across from you, his heated gaze alone making you throb. “Isn’t…that the guy who owns this place?”
“Mm, he owns a lot of things. You see, darling, even though I want you all to myself–” Wooyoung squeezed his hands around your barely clothed tits through your dress, making you moan. “San doesn’t like it when I don’t share with him.” His hands slowly moved down your front to your clothed cunt, feeling your wetness coat his fingers when he rubbed them against your clothed slit. All you could focus on was the way San shifted around on the couch, his hands gripping his thighs like his body was aching to be free from his tight ensemble, Wooyoung’s upcoming offer barely getting processed in your hazy brain. “Do you wanna meet him?”
One single nod was all it took for Wooyoung to take your hand with a knowing smile on his pretty face, like he could already tell what was about to go down that night, before guiding you past the crowd, the bouncers, and directly up to San, who was eagerly waiting your arrival.
As soon as you stepped foot into the exclusive lounge, the visual of the older man had your already weak knees ready to buckle underneath you now that you could see him up close. He was dressed head to toe in sleek, expensive leather. The top only had two buttons to support his front, his broad chest on full display for you to drool over. Your eyes eventually followed upwards until you got to his obscenely handsome face, his sharp, feline-like features bathed in the club’s sinful red lighting. Then, of course, the nail in the coffin was the dimpled smile he offered you, one that was so inviting that you didn’t realize you were being drawn to him like a moth to a burning flame.
“That’s right, go ahead and get nice and comfortable on my lap, sweetheart,” his words, sweet like honey, melted off his tongue in a low drawl, his limbs wrapping around you as soon as you sat down on his lap, resting one hand comfortably on your thigh, his other reaching up to play with your hair. “What brought you here tonight? To my pretty boy? To me?”
You gently hooked an arm around his neck to keep yourself upright, gazing at Wooyoung who sat beside you both on the couch, his fingers rubbing gentle circles around one of your ankles, before turning your head to look at the older man, trying to keep bad memories from flooding your brain.
San gently twirled your hair around his finger, urging in a deep, comforting voice, “Let it out. Don’t be afraid, princess.”
Your brain offered you a pleasant fuzziness instead. “I…had a bad breakup…I just really wanted to come here, get my back blown out, and forget about it all, you know?”
Wooyoung stifled a cackle, while San’s lower lip jutted out in a pout, his hand splaying across your upper thigh, slowly rubbing it up and down. “Poor angel. I bet he never made you feel needed, huh?” You mirrored his pout, shaking your head. “I can make you feel needed, baby. Do you want that?” A nod this time, your breath caught in your throat. San leaned in, pressing his lips to your warm cheek, murmuring, “Then, let Daddy take care of you, alright?”
And just like that, there were no rules anymore. No regulations. No holding back. Just you, two strangers, and a club full of people that couldn’t care less about what you were doing. San still held you in his lap, your trembling legs just barely spread open enough to allow his hand in between them, rubbing his thick digits against your cunt through your soaked panties, while Wooyoung had a front row seat. “Is it good for you, baby? Or do you want more?”
“More,” you exhaled, about to say something when San squeezed your clit roughly, making you gasp.
“More, what, princess?” San leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, whispering against them, “What’s my name?”
“More, Daddy,” you corrected yourself, just as San’s ringed fingers moved past your panties and slipped right inside you up to the knuckle, filling you up just enough to make your brain go fuzzy.
Wooyoung moaned just when you did, biting his lip at the sight of San’s veins popping out when he began to pump his fingers in and out of your squelching hole. “Fuck, that’s so hot…she’s so wet, Daddy…”
“She is, isn’t she?” San agreed, curling his fingers inside you until he hit the spot that made you drool, his lips suddenly latching onto your neck to leave his mark behind on your skin so you could remember exactly what you did when you woke up the next morning. “Look at you, taking my fingers in your tight little cunt like this. Such a good girl.”
“Uh-huh,” you could barely verbalize, whining at his words, clenching around his digits. You could barely focus on anything else except for the older man’s thick fingers stretching you out, his rings offering you a pleasure you didn’t realize you needed in your life, though Wooyoung’s warm hands on your thighs and gentle smile kept you from getting too lost in the moment.
However, San was in the same boat as you, his trapped, throbbing cock already leaking so much pre-cum that he was about to lose it, encouraging him to suggest, “Mm, but you need Daddy’s cock, don’t you?” He watched you give him a weak nod, knowing you were on the edge of orgasming from the way your body began to lock up. “I should just fuck you dumb right here for everyone to see. Have you make a big mess on this couch. It’s my club, after all. Why shouldn’t I do what I want?” He sped up the pace, practically pounding his fingers into your cunt, your arousal leaking down your shaking thighs, continuing to dispel filthy words for only you and his boytoy to hear. “Fuck, they’ll enjoy seeing a pretty thing like you fall apart on my lap, won’t they? See this cunt of yours stretch around my cock and take my cum inside. Mmm. See the way I make you mine.”
Everything was too much. The crowded room. The possibility of someone’s eyes on you. San’s filthy words. His fingers jammed inside your soaked cunt. Wooyoung’s unwavering gaze, his hands squeezing into your thighs. The unrelenting pleasure coursing through your body. You ended up cumming so hard, you saw stars, not even realizing San was silencing your pleasured cries until you felt his lips on yours and his tongue push into your open mouth. Just as San pulled away, Wooyoung took his place, tasting the alcohol on your tongue, before gently tugging on your bottom lip with his teeth.
“Should we go to your office now, Sannie?” Wooyoung asked the older man, his hooded eyes flitting between San’s and yours, neither of you even having to speak another word before you all got up from the couch.
-
“Whoa,” you murmured to yourself, looking around the expansive room, the interior matching the rest of the sleek club. Aside from the small computer desk setup in the corner, there was a large bed with satin sheets that took up a good portion of the room, but most of your attention was on the mirrors that were perfectly positioned on either side of the bed, as well as the ceiling. “Mirrors?”
“Sannie likes to watch himself,” Wooyoung giggled, rubbing the small of your back in comforting circles, leading you to the bed alongside San who sat down on the edge of it, looking up to you and Wooyoung who stood behind you, running his hands along your sides up to your shoulders, before taking hold of the zipper of your dress.
“I like to watch pretty angels like you come undone too. Watch the lust take over you until you’re covered in sweat and cum,” San mused, gazing into your eyes until Wooyoung slowly pulled the straps of your dress down, the both of them watching it fall from your body. Groaning, San began to mirror Wooyoung’s actions, unbuttoning his blazer, then pulling it off and revealing an expanse of smooth tan skin, the muscles in his arms flexing as he began to unbuckle his pants. Once San’s pants hit the floor and his thick, veiny cock sprung up, you found yourself sinking down to your knees, your mouth watering at the sight of pre-cum dribbling down the man’s reddened cockhead. “What do you want, princess? Tell me.”
“Your cock,” you requested immediately, settling your hands on his strong thighs. “In my mouth, please.”
“Ahh…?” San tilted his head to the side, his eyebrows raising up slightly.
“Daddy,” you replied swiftly, leaning in to rub your cheek against his hot, throbbing length, pouting, licking at the pre-cum that dripped onto your face. “Please.”
“Good girl. So dirty for me. Aren’t I a lucky man?” San let out a satisfied sigh, reaching down to wrap a good amount of your hair around his fist, holding it in a ponytail so that he could see your face, before sliding his cock into the hot, slick haven that was your mouth and throat. “That’s it, suck it nice and hard, princess. Show me how much you like having Daddy’s cock in your mouth.”
You reciprocated, throating his cock the best you could, choking and gagging occasionally, digging your fingers into his thighs.
“Mmm, there you go. You’re so good for me, angel. Don’t stop, okay?” San praised, closing his eyes, gripping your hair, slowly thrusting himself into your open mouth, delighted by the lewd sounds of your moans and the squelching sounds coming from your throat. Once he felt Wooyoung’s fingers slide into his hair and grip it, San looked up, watching Wooyoung lift one leg up onto the edge of the bed, the younger man’s eyes full of hunger.
Finally getting your throat to relax completely, you simply continued to take San’s cock in your throat, having to blink the remaining tears away to see San clearly — though nothing could prepare you for the sight of Wooyoung guiding San’s head downwards, his twitching cock disappearing inside San’s willing mouth.
“Fuck, it feels so hot,” Wooyoung panted, a bit of drool leaving his plump lips, thrusting deeper until he entered San’s throat, the older man’s groans vibrating onto Wooyoung’s balls each time they touched his chin. “Daddy acts so big and bad all the time, but he just loves getting cock rammed down his throat, huh?”
Wooyoung knew him so well. That’s why he was his favorite, well, aside from the angel that was taking him to heaven with only her mouth. San reached up with his free hand to massage Wooyoung’s balls, guiding his mouth along the younger man’s cock himself, sucking him off like he was made for it, like he always did.
Letting go of San’s hair to touch his own body, shuddering at all the pleasure at his disposal, Wooyoung gazed down at you, watching you obediently take San’s cock, the man’s hand still wrapped up in your hair and tugging at it. “Look at you go. You look so pretty when your mouth’s stuffed with cock, angel. You’re gonna make my Daddy cum so hard for you, huh?”
Squeezing your thighs together around your hand that was playing with your dripping cunt, you nodded your head, swearing you were about to cum just from what was happening around you, knowing San was in a similar place from the way he started to involuntarily buck his hips up into your mouth.
“Don’t swallow and save some for me, baby, okay? Don’t be stingy,” Wooyoung reminded you in a strained, breathy voice, almost falling over from the way San gripped one side of his hips, a string of obscenities falling from his lips when the man forcefully drove his throbbing cock into his hot throat, about to see god herself when San’s throat began constricting around his length like a pussy would. “Fuck, gonna cum, Sannie.”
San pulled back, a few thick strings of saliva connecting his swollen lips to Wooyoung’s dripping tip, his hand closing around the base to jerk him off. “Cum on Sannie’s face, will you? Make a big fucking mess for me.”
Wooyoung whined and panted, San’s slick hand moving quickly along his length, trying not to choke on his spit and moans, barely able to stay upright, but thankfully San had a good grip on his hips.
San looked down at you, licking the saliva from his lips, pulling out just enough so that his thick cockhead rested on your tongue. “Are you going to take this load? Hmm? Want it?”
“Yes, fuck, Daddy, please give it to me,” you begged, panting heavily, your fingers about to slip out of you from how fast you were moving them.
“Oh god, here it comes, angel,” San groaned out, squeezing around the base of Wooyoung’s cock, making him let out a broken, high-pitched whine.
Your combined pleasure came rocketing up to an intense peak, sending the three of you into a mindnumbing state of ecstasy. Thick, hot spurts of liquid came raining down on San’s face, just as his load shot out onto your tongue and down your throat, your own release soaking into the velvet carpet underneath you.
Fading out of reality during the majority of your high, your ears ringing, it took you a minute to realize that someone’s mouth was on yours, their fingers cupping your face. Opening your glossy eyes, you watched in a daze as Wooyoung took his sweet time slurping San’s cum off of your tongue.
San gripped Wooyoung’s hair and brought his head back, parting his lips and allowing Wooyoung to shovel his own cum into his mouth, swallowing it down with a low, pleased groan.
Pleased with the sin that was taking place in front of you, you took it upon yourself to drag your tongue across San’s chiseled jaw to his cheek, collecting some of Wooyoung’s release into your mouth, only to press your lips to his, letting him taste himself. Wooyoung moaned into your mouth, deepening the kiss, until San pulled you away from each other.
“Haven’t had enough, you two?” San chuckled, running a hand through his sweaty hair.
“No~ Not after that,” you giggled, rubbing your cheek against San’s palm when he caressed it.
Wooyoung wrapped his arms around you, looking at San with a sweet smile, his long eyelashes fluttering. “Can we keep her, Daddy? I promise I’ll take good care of her.”
Little wrinkles formed near San’s eyes once he smiled at you. “I suppose so.”
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