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𝔰𝔢𝔯𝔳𝔢 𝔱𝔦𝔪𝔢 | park seonghwa x fem!reader x choi san

part one, CLEARING OUT : "𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞-𝐛𝐲 𝐦𝐞"

“Brother, can’t you see I’m doing this for you? Enjoy yourself.”

𝚜𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚜 : Picking your own poison, if poison was given to you in form of bankrolls by venomous men with high demands.

In which Park Seonghwa had a plan and Choi San has ideas.

“Sounds like you’re enjoying her more than anything."

𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎 : noir, smut, angst | korean mafia/geondal!au | ceo/jaebeol!au

𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝 : 18.2k

𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 : entitled rich people, workplace harassment, alcoholism, softdom ceo!seonghwa (headman park), half-drunk satoori-using dom mafiaboss!san (mr. choi), both are called by their names at some point, sub-leaning bratty switch servant!femreader, use of (pet-)names (missy, baby, princess), groping, thigh-riding, light choking, light hair-pulling, non-penetrative sex, voyeur!seonghwa, sex in the elevator, counts as mirror sex right, biting kink, manhandling!san, edging, breeding, cum-eating (m), cunnilingus; reader hates the rich except for when they are sexy, implied but not severe age gap, writer does not have daddy kink but mafiaboss!san does, gunshots and death, use of korean proverbs

𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛'𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎 : this with the next part will be the origin story for reader, specifically the series synopsis’ first half :) originally, this has been a request, so please read this, if you desire to have a bit more insight to what the series actually is + translations of certain terms (mostly character dynamics) in this chapter !!

tl;dr: since it's all based around korean mafia/gangster/etc, there will be korean culture scattered between the lines. it is all translated, hopefully in an understandable way!!! (please hmu if there are difficulties) i let out honorifics/romanisation, except for "chaebol" since it's an actual word :) that being said, reader's ethnicity is not specified and won't be relevant to the series in any way !! 

smut comes after the second border, and uh,,, i had to shorten that shit (pls dont ask me where) but uh. you’re getting 8k words of smut so buckle up LMAO !!! i hope you enjoy as much as i did writing it !!! thank you for likes, reblogs and feedback xoxo (also this is NOT beta-read so pls dont hesitate to tell me about... like.... errors, tags and shit)

[ now playing : money ▸ pink floyd | listen to the playlist ]

It's getting repetitive. They are drinking their ninth bottle of expensive whiskey, smoking their third or fourth disgustingly pricey cigar— what the fuck, is this seriously what the upper men of your nation are doing at some stupid chairman’s dinner party?

“Missy!”

“Me, sir?”

No wonder the economy's fucking shit.

“Yeah, you, missy, give that gent over there one of our divine Denmarks!”

“Yes, sir.”

“Give him a kiss too, while you’re at it! What do you think? He’s still got it, no?”

Said ‘gent’, some old, scummy clown— winks at you, his gray eyelashes fluttering towards your direction.

“Yes, sir."

God, how bad you wish you had snuck your phone in to take a picture of these red, drunken, senseless faces, but you're a dutiful servant, abiding by the rules at all times, however difficult it may be. You’re holding in your puke professionally, not even doing something as to grit your teeth, just softly letting your jaw play along to your friendly smile.

“Does your willy even still work that way, old friend?", a cranky, yet humorous voice pitches in.

Agreeing to your supervisor’s offer to earn “big money” may have been a bad idea, but a good choice. Jongho said he’d seen you at your work, took special note of you— even though you weren’t sure where exactly he had observed you, since it’s only been a month of actually working as a servant in the lower tiers of the building— and wanted to give you a chance to swim with the big sharks. “I think you’re best suited for the job,” is what he said to make you giggle and think about your initial rejection of his proposition, “you have a talent for serving.”

Something you didn’t know you had, something you didn’t know someone would see in you ever in your life, “talent.” Sure, maybe you let yourself be persuaded a bit too fast, but it felt very touching that somebody saw you and saw potential, for whatever occasion it may be for. You don’t necessarily want to screw the rules of the hierarchical pyramid or what it was that kept you from being in the proximity of the chairman, but you really need the extra cash right now.

"What does a girl from the mountains look for in being a servant in the city?", had been the question you were asked by Lady Kim who gave you the leftovers of her restaurant at the end of the day, when you had just started with the training– poor, barely standing on your own feet. 

You remember how you explained to her that the buddhist monks who raised and send you here surrounded themselves with wells to remind everyone that water always returned, and you assumed it would work the same with wealth. You also remember how hard she tried to stay kind to you, showing you her sincerest sympathy by telling you that "the chaebol are no joke!" (at least not a joke, an innocent girl like you could laugh about, she later explained) and giving you an extra portion of her home-made dumplings to suit you up.

Her sharp, yet compassionate voice rings in your ears, as you reapply your red lipstick on the way to your target guest. Oh, Lady Kim, what a graceful woman– she put her all into her work for her restaurant to succeed, but had always made a place to share what she had for those who needed it. Such a lovable woman, she must have been well-liked by all around her.

You get it now, the way you had been so naive back then. Floating on the philosophical happy-go-lucky psyche of the city’s promise of prosperity, trying to live the Korean dream strangely enough as someone who was so sarcastically out of touch with it. If you had been in her position, you wouldn’t have been able to be as nice, no, would have warned yourself with a finger pointed upwards as if you were teaching a little kid about strangers, or how your monks said, ‘tigers in the woods’.

“After that cigar, his dick will turn to dust!”

Maybe things would have looked different, if you hadn’t taken that fund from the school’s superintendent, who slid you that card on your table with a smirk on his face. Oh dear, do you remember how excited you had been? You ran through the streets in your worn-out shoes with that plastic sheet in your hand, on your way to tell that the money on it was such ridiculously high number that you could split— but Lady Kim had got to know it first, the ridiculousness of the rich, with the demolition of her restaurant-building.

“He’s got no cum in his nutsacks ‘no more anyway!”

No warning, no compensation, just everything crushed to pieces to make place for the big corporations; the fancy neon-signs she'd invested in, the ambition of her enthusiastic dreams, your only source of tender charity, shattered to a wreck. You have never seen her since, and can only laugh about how the fancy food of the chaebol—and you definitely know who they are now, those tasteless men gawking at you in the moment—doesn’t even look half as good as her low-cost black bean noodles you could more than afford now. 

The present day-you is less dreamy, but just as lost, forced to work off a debt you hadn’t been informed about when you lived off the favorable “fund”-money. No, Lady Kim, this is all a joke, you would tell her today. A really fucking bad one.

So, making room for another ha-ha in your life, you pulled your eyes up innocently, returning Jongho’s specious smiles. “Is it illegal to collect pocket-money from the rich?” It’s not like you had any doubts at that point, but 'they'll buy you out of prison if you’re good enough' was all you needed anyway to put your uniform on tightly at home.

"Can't even shoot his cum in missy to save his blood!"

Your more experienced co-workers are watching you work with a condescending frown, feeling both jealous you're getting all the men's attention, but also maliciously delighted you're being challenged as the new-coming servant who's obviously of erotic interest to these richlings. They want you to get a "taste of life" for you may be the most goody-goody fawning bitch they have ever seen; just a young birdbrain who has nothing to bring to the table except her body. Young thing won’t hold up, doesn't know who she's working with— though they are quite right about that part, you must admit, you frankly didn’t look up whose money you’re taking right now— she doesn’t know who the fuck she is.

"What? Did his son leave the company, too?"

It’s flattering to know that the other pretty servants look at you and only see some candy-coated muppet, but fairly, your ever-frozen smile on your face doesn’t give them much to work with. You’re simply an annoyance to their routine, and if you could, you would like to comfort them by saying none of the money you’re getting will stay in your hands– they’d be so happy to hear that you’re really worth nothing– but you must stay focused.

“Idiot, he’s only got a daughter!”

So yes, that being said, you’re glad nobody ever asks you about you. Everyone just assumes, judges from what they see, and if what they see is an opportunistic bimbo-girl chasing money, then so be it, right?

"Idiot, he only has a daughter! You know, the one he married off to the governor?”

Right. Because you too have not a single second to think nor talk about your past. The present is scarce and the future is fragile, you know it the best. And you owe it to your old men to make the best out of their efforts, don't you? The air in this room may not be the one you inhaled in the mountains, but you still have to use it, breathe, be alive, despite how moldy and spoiled it simmers in your throat.

"Real mad! Anything to avoid that fee, huh, missy? Got no semen and no glory! You really want to give him that cigar?”

So, that taste of life? Fucking bitter, just like how that name 'missy' seeps and sweats on your tongue. You can’t loathe your co-workers for this reason, they're basically in the same wooden, shaky boat as you, but these asswipes here are floating on a fucking yacht. Of course they don't follow some type of code of human decency for you, they don't give two shits about the lowlifes, the poor. They watch them like a spectacle, and because they don't regard you as a human-being but rather a toy, they play with you on strings that are, on the other hand, binding together a big, fat bankroll.

Ka-Ching.

Eyes on the price, Y/N, eyes on the price. You may not own a lot, that's been more than established, but if there is something you have, it's dutifulness, commitment, and proficiency. It will remain difficult to keep inner peace and honor with a job of which "duty" it is to be a deferential, subservient doll, but at least you're alive and well, soon to leave this floor with more money to your name that these fuckers don't know anyway, right? Never let that smile drop, smart girl. You have a talent, just like your supervisor said. Just keep on serving.

“No children-makin' is better for the cheatin'— ha!”, the barren, that fruitless man who’s been made fun of whoops in to stand up for himself, and awaits his tobacco that's being driven to him by your cart.

You open up the wooden chest in which the cheroots, so unnecessarily gold-plated, sit and ridicule you with their rare existence. There are just thousands of dollars sitting in your hand right now, and as you fetch the thick roll with wary fingers, you think, fucking hell, this could feed so many people, and they're just smoking it away like it's nothing, assholes.

The other servants frown at you spitefully during the time you bow down. You're sensually placing the brown cylindrical object into his mouth, a match lighting held to his face to light it up. In addition to the experience, you hold one long stare with his washy eyes, because you assume it will ignite him.

And, oh, how excited he gets.

"Thank you, sir," you chuckle and flutter with your eyelashes, pursing up your lips like you’re an innocent little girl getting a piece of candy behind her parents’ back.

“Just mad! Missy's young enough to be your grandchild, fella!”

You’re aware of exactly what your dear co-workers are thinking, but being ordered to light their cigs and then ogled at is not "baby-treatment” or whatever they’re muttering under their breath, it's your subtle strategy to have that bankroll be slid between your thighs.

"Hey now, I still can get it on! Don't you think so too, missy?"

Dumb Y/N, only has money on her mind. Allows herself to be called "missy", like a dumb fucking slut. 

Hm, kind of has a ring to it, don't you think?

"Yes, sir."

Let them all think you're a dummy. Let them believe, believe each other's words in whatever they fucking want. You're almost too certain it's the secret reason Jongho offered you a place here anyway; "suited for the job", because he deems you dense enough to not understand any of the nonsense these twelve men are babbling, "big money", because he knows you will do anything for it. 

You’ll still take the talent, but if he really thinks the rest, then oh, sucks to be him.

Yes, you haven’t looked up the names of who the men here are for the same reasons they're not using yours, but the second you’re out of this whiny, weak testosterone-drowned room, you're going to write the most thorough blackmail, because you can not listen to their cheating, money-laundering, corrupted bullshit anymore. Getting involved with the handshakers is the last thing you should do if you want to live a silent, carefree life, and you know this too well, but they're not going to believe it was you anyway. They wouldn’t dream of their missy to do such a competent, smart thing. You even know what you're going to write under the letter so they have something to think about in their cells: 'birds listen to the words of day, mice to the words at night'— walls have ears, too.

Ah, the soft, sometimes very cryptic voice of your favorite old monk. Always there to teach you new things, remind you of how to live your life cheerfully. You still believe he would have rather kept you in the mountains and not drop you on a wild voyage into the unknown urban life, but your old man had his reincarnation coming. You should visit his grave again, it's been a while, hasn't it? Wouldn't he be so proud to see you? To see how much his little Y/N has grown and learnt, using his proverbs to restore justice? Well, for what you still can collect of your late mentor, he would probably make big eyes and use his whole body to keep your monetary gift away from him. "Teacher," you would ask, "don't you at least want to save?", and his answer would remain the same;

"Peace comes free."

You feel warm at the distant memory of the bald-headed man warming himself in his orange gown, teaching you about love, harmony and kindness, but that sweet veil of untainted innocence has long dropped from your eyes.

In front of you, you see tycoons continuing having a blast being their shitty selves, and as golden teeth blend your sight, they are entertaining each other by staring at your legs that are covered by your sheer black stockings, whispering their insight of how you'd look like under it, but the mini-skirt only leaves so much for imagination.

"Sweet missy!"

How could you not want to spit into their face? They have bought the war. They have bought the chaos. And why? Just because they can. It doesn't cost you anything to restore some peace, maybe that’s the thing your old man got right.

"Yes, sir?”

“Do you have any Cubans left, sweet missy?”

“A Cuban, coming right up, sir.”

“Hopefully someone’s gonna come after the party tonight!”

Are you humiliated? As someone who lived among the wisest, clearest heads, and was considered just as smart by them to be wished a ‘more fortunate life’ — No.

You couldn’t care less about their perversions. Especially now, when they seemingly don’t care enough to know your name you've introduced yourself with. You are here for one reason, and it's not to prove your worth to the world, it's to secure your place in it, get that parasitic debt off your shoulders.

And if anything, as long you are staying truthful to yourself, there’s nothing that could take away your spirit. That’s what you want to believe, at least. When you’re out of debt and continue with this job, you could spend every day downtown like the other servants, but for you, it's all going to the savings for the family you're going to feed with not one worry in life on the clear land in the mountains, not under a sky that's polluted by light even when the sun has set.

The clock has announced night long time ago. Outside the windows, there shines and roams a loud, restless city under a starless, foggy black blanket, inhabited by people like you who live day by day to make their living, like small flies forgathered in a hive of exhausting labor, buzzing their life away.

It’s what you think every time you peek down the glass room: Seoul has never looked so small. Across and around the ever-flowing Han-River, the metropole is the home of millions who are looking up with their heads far back their necks to the point right here, where you stand, at the center or peak of all the wealth gathered together, inside the highest building standing tall amidst of the tumult, on the 114th floor, towering over the world in a luxurious dining room decorated by exotic animals, marbled statues and most importantly the filthy glimmer of something they call ‘class’.

“Missy,” the chairman calls out for you, raising his hand, right after he’s made another infidelity joke and showed his luxurious wedding ring to the audience.

“Yes, sir?”, you call out, wearing your pristine servant-smile with your hands folded nicely in front of your stomach, voice not tainted by your disgust as to even one note, despite the other servants looking at you with hateful expressions. They wish you the worst; the worst treatment, the worst performance, anything to get you out of this place. 

Maybe they're driven by the same instincts and avarice that makes you hate the rich,  with them just thinking you're taking away their money, but it's free territory here with these predators; you just make for great prey.

It’s a challenge to all of the people involved and the contestants can only win. Will it be another pick-up line? You're going to pick on that with ease. Another joke about your age? That one is never going to get old. There, bring it on, you think, and feel proud of your confident spirit, ready to run with whatever they throw and stash it into your wallet.

“You see those youngsters back there? Get 'em some more ice."

“Yes, sir.”

“Chaps don't know how to drink the good stuff yet, what a waste! Next time, buy 'em the cheap soju from the mart! The ones for 5,000 Won, missy, you know those?”

“Yes, sir.” Your whole face flashes a smile, bowing to accept the task of refilling some ice, dragging your cart across the room, as male laughter rings in your ears. It's as if they don't realize they also drink cheap liquor, but you suppose that's forgettable when they are flushing the fanciest of meats down with it.

"Be careful, missy!"

Are you being too mild by saying you want to ram the green glass-bottles into their heads?

"They bite!”

Maybe choke them with their own money bills?

Yes, “Yes, sir.”

It's a fun exercise to fantasize about how to hurt them, so you thought you would be busy enough to ignore the chairman's warning, but as you are on your long way to the end of the even longer glass table to push your cart towards the men he is referring to, there's a growing feeling inside your guts that oh, the chairman may be ... 

Huh, right for the first time. The quizzical lump expands warmly as much as it is cold, with goosebumps running down your spine, your hands feeling hotter than ever over the metal cart. Your whole body is trying to signal you that something is off on the other side of the table, but you don’t know whether to ignore it or run.

The annoying, empty-minded, impertinent elders, who have been belly-laughing at the chairman's joke a second ago stop with their chatting and only exhale huffs, and prolong them nervously, that’s off. The servants gulping, loosening their crossed arms– that’s off, too. 

“So, uhh… Where was the, uh– food from?”

“Oh, lad, good topic, yes– the delicious food…”

It seems that everyone in the room is trying to fill in the silence with the fakest of laughter, so the chairman can move on from the topic, but you're well over your way there, uninformed to what you're going to be hit with once you halt.

Tycoons like them usually don't need back-checking. You know how to deal with ill-willed imbeciles that only use their estate as a weapon. Their bodies and brains have passed prime an eternity ago. Left behind are only their numbed minds that seek shelter in lust, ecstasy and aphrodisia because nothing else excites them anymore. They’re what you probably would have been if you hadn’t spent your teens brewing tea and listening to the leaves rustle, not experiencing all euphoria and more at a too early age– they’re washed out, just swimming in money they haven't worked a day for, are lazy, weary sloths.

However, opposed to the cloudiness in their class that's only getting more foggier through the many years of monopoly, these two men that are waiting in front of you, and you understand why your lungs are pinging now, they are potent.

Money is power, but twist it around and there is them, with that; a certain force that the rich ooze out by just acting and looking a certain way, and oh, Y/N, how they are, how they are looking at you right now, best believe you have to hold onto your strength like it's a small purse.

'Youngsters', he said— 'they bite', he said.

They have been rarely reacting to the chairman’s words, notwithstanding being the ones to be the most respectful in this meeting for their young age, just looking at each other with unamused eyes. Even the director who is older than the chairman lets out his best holler every time, but these two have not laughed once at his jokes, not the slightest chuckle has left their mouths to flatter or satisfy the chairman.

Interesting.

Both black-haired, the one you get to first has his mane gelled back, a cigarette hanging out his scarred mouth, as you approach his seat with your cart walking carefully practiced steps. His white shirt is opened up to where chains, most importantly a silver cross, hang from his collarbones to his chest that’s covered with scars and scratches you can’t quite identify how they got there. This man looks gigantic, muscular, dangerous. Shoulders terrifyingly broad popping out his black vest, he sits on his seat with widened legs, thighs flattened in his also black pants, fastened by a leather belt, and with his white sleeves pulled back to his elbows, his slightly tanned forearms only appear more huge after the rather average-looking wristwatch catches your eye, just when you stop with your cart in front of him.

“That old geezer just can’t keep his mouth shut, can he?”, he chuckles, the Gyeongsang-provincial dialect rolling so naturally off his tongue. Everyone else in the room has been faking their speech to cosplay a charm they didn’t possess, but even the slight lisp and lull from the drunkenness are not hiding how deeply masculine and sincere this man’s voice sounds. It’s a mixture of the sarcasm you've gotten used to by now, but also a brashness that the older men lack, and you’re a bit embarrassed to say it’s working you up a bit. "Empty carts rattle loudest, I say."

A wintry breeze goes through your breast and you feel your eyebrows flinch. You haven't heard that grandmotherly expression in so long, that it does feel somehow refreshing to reconcile with it, but maybe the whisk you sense shouldn’t feel as comforting given the way the man is looking up to you brazenly with a bit of atrocity in his appearance. He is far away from the serene sketch you drew to save the vision as you left the village, he is what you felt when you took your first train, asphyxiated by the big masses of people who you would never see again— an unhomely, yet intimate feeling of... adventure.

He glances through you smoking his cigarette with no hands attached, and it moves at the corner of his lip as he talks. Wait, cigarette? Missy, did you forget to bring him a cigar?

"Let's see when he runs out of words."

“It’s alright, sir,” you answer, suppressing a slight chuckle because yes, you too have been wishing the chairman would finally shut the fuck up, but haven't expected anyone to say it out loud that boldly. You watch the male in front of you take out the slim roll from his mouth with his thick fingers that are covered with silver rings that all look different and not matching each other, blowing out the smoke whilst maintaining eye contact with you. “If you require, I can bring you a cigar, sir," you say, but he waves his hand to brush off your offer.

“Ah, they give me bad breath.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Please," the man progresses instantaneously, scratching over the vertical scar at his lip-corner with his thumb, his ciggy continues to burn, "Do be so kind and give brother his ice," then smiles, "he needs to preserve his cold head.”

“You are one to talk about keeping mouths shut,” the ‘brother’ answers, voice velvety and adequate despite dissing the man that’s sunken unmannerly into his seat, while he, on the other hand, is sitting up straight, his black suit buttoned up, tie set cleanly under his ironed pearl-white collars, elegantly decorated by a golden pin. A Greek "π" is chiseled into it, and you recognize it so well for you’ve seen it written all over the tall buildings you drove by on your way here. His hair is combed evenly to the sides and the more you look at him, he’s just— wow, flawless, prestigious, expensive. Everything about him is crystal clear; his rich voice, his unblemished skin, his eyes, oh god, you just noticed those eyes, how does such a shameful man have such pure eyes?

Orbs— and they're not innocent as much as you can't say they're not guilty— are looking at you with a defiance that is suffocating, as if you ought to do everything perfectly, not miss a single twitch of his eyebrows to understand whether he's enjoying or disapproving of the situation.

Well, is he enjoying you or disapproving of the way you're listening to his partner's order to refill his ice?

Huh. No fucking idea. He probably doesn't, but you must do it still— must still serve.

It feels irrationally sheep-headed, but hey, being a sheep is your job, is it not? Being in this herd is keeping you alive, and even in this situation, where you are following the orders of the blackest of sheep, no, wolves that can't be covered by any fluffy wool— you must mow your best.

"Ohh, brother, it's been a while since I heard you talk! Feels lonely droppin' all the good sayings by myself."

You’re serving Choi San and CEO of PARA-conglomerate, headman Park Seonghwa.

Sat right across the chairman, the percentage this couple holds of his company-share is more than most of the attending seniors combined, which makes them stand at the top of the guest-list. You couldn’t have missed their names, even if you’ve made the attempt to, and the other information you’re getting is just your co-workers whispering hurried words to each other, and it seems to you that you may be more in need of them than ever.

You already eavesdropped on them a little, and to be honest, you didn’t need any real confirmation that everyone in this room was unlawful and corrupt, but it is good to know you really don’t have to feel guilty stashing those bankrolls into your purse.

The man that is licking the tail of his scar at his lip, rolling his neck, clicking with his mouth and tapping his fingers onto the table, he is rumored to be the boss of the Choi-Clan, the infamous ‘Mad Dog of Namhae’, whose face had been unknown. The chairman has made a drunken joke about allegedly trying to sell him off to the government— “everybody act like you don’t know, okay?”— and nobody had taken him seriously, but once the supposed mafiaboss had entered the room, an hour later than everyone else, and sat down comfortably like nothing was strange about his heavy breath and slightly purple knuckles, nobody dared to say something else.

If you’d heard beforehand that you would be meeting a CEO and a mafiaboss today, you don’t know if you would have acted any differently. Thinking, here comes the chairman, his jesters, the mafia-guy, the chaebol; ah, all the motherfuckers aligned, let’s get to work, shall we? 

But this does challenge you a bit, indeed. If they just weren’t so young and intimidatingly good-looking, fuck, you could have treated them in the same cookie-cutter way you’d been at perfectly.

Maybe a bit of change-up won’t hurt, you were starting to get a bit too irritated anyway.

"Control yourself."

“You wanna see him dead too, brother,” the smoking male sneers— you’ll call him ‘Mr. Choi’ for now— pointing at his companion to accuse him of being a yawner, his cigarette stuck between his fingers.

Headman Park smirks with a short twitch of his lips that makes you think you just imagined it, but none of his extremities has moved since you came here: Every single action he takes seems so... calculated, thought through, measured, planned out. He is the only one to have brought a briefcase to the dinner, and looks a little bit out of place with his sober expressions which seem to you as if he was observing the whole room in its possible entirety, not leaving out a corner in his sight uncovered.

"Want," he parrots, face dropped to a neutral visage, highlighting the only word that seems to be bothering the CEO regarding his vis-à-vis' statement, eyes darting down  to Mr. Choi having his fingertips pointed towards him.

"Don't you become pushy with the words now, brother," the mafiaboss teases him, and tugs his sleeves up to his elbows again, eyeing you up and down while you're passing him with your cart. You discern his interest in the pockets of your skirt, or what is there underneath, instantly, but before you can think that the man may be just the same as the others, he cracks his knuckles. “Old geezer might die on his own at this point, look at how he's smoking his raisin-lungs away."

"Poetic."

So much for hearing government and company secrets, here are these two joking about the chairman’s death. You need the chairman a little bit longer if you want to earn money, but the idea of him dying soon isn’t too bothersome.

"You gotta get used to my Korean way of speaking, brother! Then we can communicate correctly!”

With your ears sharpened, but your face presenting unconcerned, you devote yourself to headman Park to refill his bucket, ice cubes jangling down the iron jar, whilst Mr. Choi stretches his arms behind his head, raising an eyebrow towards his elder who isn't hearing him out.

“Thank you,” headman Park says, very briefly and precisely. The tong you put in the bucket for him to use almost tips, and you don’t know whether he does it on purpose for he’s been frozen still all during the dinner, but with his reflexes, he prevents it from falling before you can, but if that wasn't surprising enough, he grazes your skin while returning.

Soft, uncalloused; not a single ounce of labor roughed up these hands, it seems. They tickled you featherly, and right now, you are looking for some type of confirmation in those black spheres of his to know that you're allowed to exhale and react to his touch, because you gasped slightly and have held your breath ever since.

Nothing. You are the first one to look— no, shy away from his stare, getting your hands in front of your abdomen again, your fingers searching for each other, fiddling around by themselves without your knowledge. 

Mr. Choi lets his wrist-watched hand fall between his lap, neck tilted slightly to the back, licking over his canine tooth with a grin, and it appears to you that he's either noticed his associate's small gesture or how headman Park is still staring at you. “You wanna do something, don’t you, brother?”

“I don’t know what you’re getting at.”

Mr. Choi shakes his head to irritate headman Park and make him explain himself.

“This is not business.”

Headman Park glances down his whiskey, droplets of water have formed around the brim of the cold glass. It is untouched. 

"I see you aren’t enjoying the whiskey, would you like something else to drink, sir?", you ask, trying to finish your job and get away from here before you get ideas that don’t include money between your thighs.

"The Fillico, please," the male answers, not having glanced away from your eyes once to inspect your cart, where the black, long bottle, donning a crown and wings adorned with Swarovski-crystals, awaits you to be grabbed.

"A glass of cold Fillico Black King!", you exclaim, your surprise of the particularity that anyone would drink water at the chairman's dinner can’t be hidden, and then hum, "Coming right up, sir."

“You’re really something, brother,” Mr. Choi wheezes, taking the last pull of his cigarette, watching you fill up a new glass for his unrelated brother with the finest mineral that can be bought to-date, pricing around 6 Billion Won, or 4500 US Dollars per bottle. “Wouldn’t you say it’s difficult to not be smokin’ or drinkin’ in this business, Y/N?”

Sure, whatever ‘business’ a man like him is talking about. “Yes, sir." Wait, hold on, did mr. Choi just say your name? 

“You don’t look too impressed,” the male grins, seeing how you’ve narrowed your eyes in confusion.

"Pardon me, I was just– how do you know my name, sir?”

Mr. Choi shrugs as if to say ‘I dunno’ and presses his cigarette out on the table. It sizzles out, like your head is also slowly deteriorating. He throws the bud into the CEO's ice-bucket— headman Park is not even minorly irritated by it— and then, with his ringed fingers, goes through his hair, setting it loose behind his head. He’s picking on you, and you surely feel picked out, that's all you can think. It's so unusual to be hearing your name, not because it hasn't been said during the dinner, but because—

"Y/N Y/L/N, a pretty name for a pretty servant like you, huh?"

Your heart somehow flutters. A stalwart man like him taking your name into his mouth is nothing you hear on the daily. Deep, manly. It's not flattering, no, it sounds wrong, feels so dangerous for a guy like him to be taking something so personal and turning it into his possession, like you're slowly going to lose yourself in the words he speaks in a lax manner. Your name is precious to you, and it just drops off his tongue like it's candy. Where on earth does a man like him get your full name from?

"Sir," you insist, dipping your fingertip under your fingernail, fidgeting.

“Oh, don’t tell me ya prefer that stupid name ‘missy’,” Mr. Choi chuckles and fetches headman Park’s full glass of whiskey, his dialect draping out his mouth.

“Or do you secretly enjoy it," he grins, and with his eyebrows raised, Mr. Choi drinks up his acquaintance's booze in one big gulp, letting the glass fall down on the table with a thump, breathing out, "missy?”

People drink whiskey neatly, you know that. The guests have been doing it all evening, but that's for two ounces. Headman Park had a glass full of the oak-colored sherry liquid with an uncommonly high alcohol percentage placed in front of him. A taunt from the chairman maybe, to subtly scorn them about their apparent boyhoodish inexperience, but Mr. Choi makes it look so adept: The strong alcohol flows down his throat smooth and speedy, even though he did misplace the rim by an inch.

There's whiskey dripping down his chin as he glances over to his side, smirking at his neighbor who's blinking frozen, as well as the other guests, who are seemingly just as irritated that the mafiaboss got you as flustered as you look like.

You’re left with your mouth slightly open, shotting down a glass of whiskey shouldn't have looked as barbarous as Mr. Choi made it appear. Like a striking attack, baring his claws, he growls out the herby aftertaste. "'Scuse me, 'got really thirsty there."

The mafiaboss goes over his lips with his tongue, watching your hand play with the seam of your skirt, where he knows a handkerchief is buried in your pocket.

“Aw, shit, I got wet,” he wails over-dramatically, looking down on himself and then again locking his eyes into yours.

“Wanna clean me up, baby?”

“Pardon?”

Much to your continued bafflement, Mr. Choi smiles, and as he sees you taking a second to confirm what he said, he continues talking to you like you’re a hooker.

“Don't like that one, Y/N?” Again, with the name! Where does he get the name?!

“Sir, how—“

“You have introduced yourself to us,” headman Park finally reveals in the high Seoul tongue, perchance by pity, and you inhale, a bit embarrassed that you didn’t come to think of it earlier. What is happening to you? Is it because you’re finally away from those sleazes, that you’re being so light-headed? Lack of training? Sexual attraction? God, that’s a rookie’s mistake, Y/N, think about them as targets, not objectives. The objective is to not end up in a bed with them, remember? That’s like, rule number one. Even though nobody told you about the Mafia while you were at training, that’s a valid argument.

Don't let your guard down, you’re in a room with the men of men, no maybe the men. The most influential men you could be meeting in Seoul right now, aside from how little is known about them.

Whether he's a real chaebol or not, PARA-CEO Park Seonghwa is definitely the nephew of good ol’ chairman over there, just leeching off his money even if today is the first time the man is visiting his distant uncle who is definitely a bit sour about the fact he took so long to connect with him. Money has its sources and sometimes, most of the time, it’s nepotism. There you go, the explanation of his wealth and why the male is so well-mannered sitting on his seat. He’s woven into the conglomerate-family, been made CEO to keep him that way and all in all, you could care less about him, if he just wasn’t the only person that was kind of nice to you. Just thinking about his eyes makes you a bit dizzy, but you can get that fixed by turning your eyes to the mafiaboss.

Mafia and chaebol don't usually associate, for reasons that are rather obvious. Mafia’s rule the underworld with the overworld’s laws, and the chaebol rule over what laws the overworld decides on, digging their hands into the government like it’s soot, planting and pulling crops wherever they can profit from it. Money.

It’s sickening every time you think about it. How many people in this room could pay for your whole life? No, how many can’t pay for your whole life and beyond? You can count them with one hand and they’re all wearing the same clothes as you. 

Money knows where it belongs; that’s a phrase you made up the day you were told about the crippling debt by the letter and the bank declining your card. It sounds similar to your monks' sayings of water's ever-flowing life, but if water returns, money drifts. It wanders across the citizens, but follows a direction it's always bound to end up. Just like today, with you getting bankrolls to graze the inner space of your legs, only to know it’s going to end up in the same fingers that gave it to you.

So, where do headman Park and Mr. Choi get a say in this? Do they get a say in this?

“I did introduce myself, how could I forget? I’m sorry, sir,” you admit and let out a laugh that is half intended to sound as nervous as it did, and half regrettably filled with authentic uneasiness.

Old chairman, what does he know? Have those teeth really ever sunk into flesh? You can’t play with your fate here, but by hook or crook they intrigue you so much. You haven’t expected guests that aren't ass-kissers of the chairman, and apparently your talent only goes so far. You have no idea what to do with them to satisfy them except letting out your real thoughts and you can’t do that, definitely not in front of the man.

But you feel so connected to them. The caution everyone has, it confuses you just as much you're amazed by it, and you want that, you want that kind of safety. Every guest here has money, but not every guest has their authority.

“It’s alright, everybody makes mistakes, baby,” Mr. Choi smirks and musters you again, rubbing the liquid away from the corner of his lip with his thumb and kissing the remaining alcohol away, savoring every droplet of whiskey, but also savoring you by keeping his thumb leaned into his opened mouth, eyes looking sultrily at you, you might as well just—

“Mistakes, San. Beware of them,” headman Park falls in and his companion finally sways his eyes away from you, hand backing down. “Talkative drunkard.“

“Brother,” Mr. Choi sighs and grabs the glass from his neighbor that's filled with ice cubes to murmur, “I’m not that drunk," swinging it around with concise flicks of his wrist to enunciate his words.

With the couple bantering, you think you can calm down. Maybe you were overreacting. Bootlicking some birdbrains is a way easier life than to follow these two.

"Hey, baby?”, but there's another call of the bird of prey.

“Yes, sir?”, you answer, fingers letting go of your skirt that has thrashed your skin by how you abused it. You don’t even know when you started to react to the name 'baby', but truth be told it’s better than ‘missy’ by miles. Being over here is better than being over there by miles, that is unchangeable.

“Could you get me clean? This is kinda sticky."

With two fingers, he grabs the collar of his shirt and flails it softly, ice clinking in his glass, as he shows you his indeed quite syrupy breast.

"Yes, sir."

You nod towards the crevice that is the space where his muscles meet, and before your eyes can get lost in the plump thews, you collect yourself so you can do what you were asked for; getting your hands on his body.

“Please.”

“Ahh, I liked you more when you were quiet, brother! I don’t wanna call you a party-pooper, but c'mon! It’s your plan, and I’m just— doin’ my part.”

Mr. Choi twists his upper body a bit so he’s still able to hold the empty glass behind your back, though it feels more caging in than it should, when you lean forwards to softly tap his skin with your handkerchief. His arm hovers next to your hip and his upper body is extended wide around you.

“What do you say, baby?”, the male asks, and you harrumph to take your mind elsewhere from how rock-hard the mafiaboss feels under your hand, how his cologne smells so rich and inviting, and how— “Wanna be bitten?”

“Pardon?”, you ask, not understanding the context of Mr. Choi’s question, but without fail grasping the intentions of it.

The male grins, and you’re unsure as to how he got his hand on the bottle of whiskey from your tray as quickly as he did, but it’s there, in the hand that’s across your hip, and from then on, everything you do seems risky. His bicep is curled around your thigh so he can fill himself another glass, and if you take a step back, your ass will be pushed against his arm, but if you step forward, you’ll land on top of him; a straining dilemma that only inflames your guts the more you think about it.

“San,” headman Park grumbles quietly, seeing you struggle to stand on your feet.

“Agh, come on, brother, 's all going well! Live a little for me, will ya? Watch me and follow,” Mr. Choi nags with a juvenile pout and takes a disgruntled sip from his drink, making your imaginations reality by pushing you with his forearm with no forewarning. You trip closer to him and his arms raise, as you have to find safety on his shoulders to not fall into his crotch.

“Oops, ‘scuse me, baby,” he grins, feline eyes glancing up to you, your bust in his view. The other men are grumbling, fussy, yammering— if they knew, they would have done that with you a long time ago!— and in your head, you don't know whether you should be doing this at the chairman's dinner and not somewhere in a stripclub or just, god, anywhere else.

“It’s okay, sir,” is what you answer, and the short silence would be the perfect opportunity to scuffle back to your original stance, but you saw his ever-growing, throbbing bulge in his black suit-pants and it is staring you down.

Everything about him is so big…

“Really, baby?”, Mr. Choi asks, eyebrows pushed together, lips formed into a pout, feigning an expression of worry.

“Yes, sir,” you say, the big question of 'what is the goal here?' unnerving you, but with the quick, harsh movement of his leg against the back of your knee, you're—

“Sir!”

Sat on his thigh, your butt is bouncing on the hard flesh, fingers dug into his shoulders deeper due to the shock, ribcage moving up and down as you’re breathing fast and anxiously. At this point, you’ve gathered the attention of many who are seemingly more excited about the situation than you are, silencing all around, while the chairman continues to crack drunk jokes on the other side.

Mr. Choi chuckles at your nervousness and puts his glass down. “Aww, look at you, baby,” he coos, his rough, calloused fingers trailing between the inner space of your thighs that’s pushed into his leg. “Need a little break?”

As you sit there— securing yourself on the table, feeling his hand sit between your legs, you become lighter with each passing second, tingles being sent down your abdomen. Could Mr. Choi please stop smirking like that? It’s going to make you lose your mind, lose every thought of what you were trying to achieve at this table tonight.

“The chairman doesn’t allow breaks, sir,” you murmur, trying to cling onto the last sense of service you have, “I have to stay here.”

Your voice is barely above a whisper for the CEO in front of you to become curious, but loud enough for the mafiaboss to scoff and massage his hand deeper into your flesh.

“Sir, I really—“, you try to protest, but Mr. Choi uses his other finger to signal you to come closer to his face. You do as you’re told, his warm breath hitting your ear after you lean backwards.

“Baby,” he cackles, and his lips touch your earlobe, the smell of the smoke fading out his mouth.

“I practically own that wimp,” and Mr. Choi lets out a chuckle before his voice lowers an octave, “Let me own you, too.”

His tongue grazes over your sensitive skin as if he was a snake trying to convince you of eating the strange fruit, and you shudder forwards in surprise, his growl still vibrating in your ears.

You should get yourself together— yeah, that sounds like a good idea, if it just wasn't for the fact that this is exactly how you've been presenting yourself the whole evening. You're cornered, and not only by him, but your actions and it's, oh, old man, it's something. It's something that broadens the playground that was set out in front of you, something that gives you more to play, no, more to be played with.

The other guests are gawking already, forgetting about their prejudices when it comes to the 'youngsters', just happy to be seeing their missy in action.

The mafiaboss sighs, breaking his whispering and speaking louder than before. “But if you cherish so much about that old geezer, he’ll be taken care of, no? Maybe even better than before, or am I wrong here, brother?”

He clicks with his mouth— is it a habit?— and looks at headman Park, who rolls his eyes, as if they’re sharing some secret you’re not a part of. But before you can fall into further confusion, your legs tighten around Mr. Choi’s wristwatch, as his thumb strokes the surface under your skirt one time, right across your cunt which has been heating up since the first time you saw the reflection of yourself in his silver cross. A pant leaves your mouth and you have to grind your ass over so you can somehow clench your legs together.

“You like that?”, Mr. Choi sneers, chuckling into your ear, as he continues to move his thick finger against your clit. "Of course you do. Let me hear more of those cute sounds, baby.”

You grab his bicep, heat crawling up your abdomen against his forearm, your crotch feeling more and more buzzed as the male works his fingertip into you. Nobody says anything, just murmuring insignificant sentences to keep up the chatty mood.

Headman Park in the meanwhile, crosses his arms, catching the attention of the mafiaboss.

“Brother, can’t you see I’m doing this for you? Enjoy yourself.”

Mr. Choi flashes an eye-smile and keeps groping your cunt, you melting more and more into his lap and under the heated gazes of the crowd. Your servant-colleagues don’t know what to do, or no, maybe they knew exactly that this would happen and think you deserve all of this shame, just in general not helping you escape the touch of the mafiaboss.

“Sounds like you’re enjoying her more than anything,” headman Park says, looking indifferent, but his words don’t cross out the possibility that inside his pants, his cock isn’t growing too, how his arms are crossed, clenched around each other.

“Come on, baby,” Mr. Choi growls into your ear, “give that fucking bore a show, won’t you?”

You’re split open. He’s strong, oh gosh, so strong, taking not more than one push to grab you by your thigh and spread your legs, make you slip on his crotch, as he closes his knees together to support you from down under.

“San,” headman Park warns, but his mouth stays slightly open, tongue pressed against the surface of his upper teeth, suppressing a grin.

You flatten your back against Mr. Choi’s torso as an attempt to hide your face behind his neck, and breathe heavily against his freckled skin, the cold exterior of his pearly accessory grazes your chin.

“What?”, the male asks, taking his glass, his arm slithering under your armpit and his chin resting on your shoulder as he sips from it, not to forget the hand that is still pushed into the now moist fabric between your legs, moving in circular motion.

Headman Park doesn’t answer and folds his hands together, placing his elbows on the table, fingers touching his lower lip.

“Geez, brother, you should feel this cunt right now,” the mafiaboss wheezes, almost hiccuping from his excitement, “so fucking hot, you won’t believe.”

“Make her louder.”

Even Mr. Choi was surprised to hear that come out of the reserved CEO's mouth, and as he chuckles and takes the last sip from his whiskey, he puts down his glass once in for all to accept headman Park’s order.

With a slight lean forward, his free hand wraps around your neck and you gasp for air. Mr. Choi’s legs are spread so when you have to tuck in your pelvis, you can feel his bulge under your cunt. At this point, you don’t care for the piercing gazes anymore, and the chairman might as well give you a nice tip for the sight of you grinding your wet pussy into his biggest investor’s clothed cock. You’re such a master profiteer, Y/N, Jongho was right.

“Fuck, missy,” Mr. Choi grunts and he’s so frustrated he can’t take off more of your clothes, but it doesn’t prevent him from following the order when headman Park mutters, “grab her breasts.”

It is one shameless show.

You becoming needy and whiny on Choi San’s lap, the mafiaboss grinning, as CEO Park Seonghwa’s eyes are unmoving from your sullen, aroused expressions— it has persuaded the audience to want their own slice of fun, but even with hands wrapped around their no-use cocks, everybody in the room has their eyes sealed on the young servant whose only job was to refill some ice.

Mr. Choi can feel it; what a slut you are on top of him, how eagerly you’re grinding your cunt over his bulge, and how jealous the others are watching— and this includes all the blokes that are watching with cigars in their mouths, but also the servants that would have gladly taken your seat and not rub their hands over old, moist, wrinkly skin.

“Sir,” you whimper, as Mr. Choi knobs your breasts, his tough hands cupping each tit, just like headman Park commanded him.

Fuck, how he wishes to be able to see your face as well as well as headman Park does, but the sobby whines might as well do.

“So noisy on my cock,” Mr. Choi snarls, “you’re practically begging for attention, missy.”

“Don’t fucking call me that,” you hiss and the mafiaboss inhales sharply, gasping, his cock jumping, very turned on by your sudden spunky tone. Bingo.

“Did you hear that, brother?”, he whales, tempting the headman to interact with him more as the main viewer of his performance, but the man to his friend is only raising an eyebrow. “Baby's got some zest in her. You like that, don’t you?”

Mr. Choi continues to coo headman Park into defeat, “You like ‘em feisty, brother. I know you, chief execution officer, sir. You wanna ram your cock into this little missy's pretty mouth, just admit it.”

Little missy's pretty mouth. "Say that again, shitbag," you hiss, but Mr. Choi grins and pries into your bust, working folds into your freshly-ironed shirt. "Listen, brother," he breathes, "It gets your cock fucking going, doesn't it?"

The mafiaboss chuckles and adds, so only you can hear it, "Definitely gets my cock going, baby."

Headman Park scans the room, and you can see how he shakes his head, and looks at Mr. Choi with a slight distaste. “You may leave soon.” 

“Really?”, Mr. Choi grins, beaming, grabbing your hips forcefully in the joy of it, and while the CEO’s words leave you misled, you sigh into the pressure of being pressed down deep into his muscled thigh, your cunt pulsating through his flesh.

“Change of plans.”

“Alright," he murmurs, just as offended as you are by his lack of reactions, but quickly catching up on his lust to hear, see, feel you more. "But not before I make this baby come."

“Punster,” headman Park jeers and it does occur to you that you’re hearing more of his soft voice than before, but when he looks at his wristwatch, you suppose you’re not doing well enough for him. Look at me, you rich-ass prude, you think and whine, being moved across Mr. Choi’s thigh by his own hands. Your clit feels hot, like it is seriously going to burn and fall off, but you, fuck, feel so good; the sounds just keep leaving your mouth, your high approaching very soon.

“How long were you thinking, brother?”, Mr. Choi asks and is nibbling at your neck, as he rams you over his thigh, fighting with the pace you're breathing wispy and digging your nails more and more into the glass-table until your fingertips turn white.

"Five.”

“Five? Make it ten.”

“You only last ten?”

“You can be such a bully, brother,” Mr. Choi fleers, and you have no fucking idea what they’re talking about, since you are feeling your orgasm coming in less than a minute, stars appearing in front of your eyes. “Make it ten.”

The male takes note of how you're bucking in your pelvis and uses his canine teeth to make your neck flame on, his hand placed roughly around your throat, as you become more sensitive to every move. "Sir," you whisper, a knot forming in your stomach.

Your clit is begging you for mercy at this point, demanding you to get the clothes off your legs so your slick has some way to escape, but you're drenching Mr. Choi's suit-pants in your wetness with stuttered heaving, ready to moan loudly in any second now if you could just find that one fucking spot—

"Are you gonna cum, baby? Right in front of everyone?", he murmurs against your neck and you nod repeatedly, raving your clothed clit on his thick, pillowy muscle, desperately chasing your high. "Come on," he snickers, "Show them what kind of slut missy is, huh? Such a good fucking slut for us, aren't you?"

"Yesyesyes," you whine, not caring for anything than your release, and Mr. Choi is being so kind as to continue breathing heavily into your ear to make you melt into bliss, but nothing gets you on more than the gentle smile that headman Park is sending your way, head slightly tilted to the back— is he nodding? Is he finally approving? Oh, fuck, you think, and you're doing the best job darting your hips non-stop to continue feeling your cunt be stroked by Mr. Choi's flesh, pursuing the CEO's praising acknowledgment. "Good fucking slut on my lap," the mafiaboss cackles, "come for daddy."

"You fucking weirdo," you falter, not wanting to call him "I'm never gonna call you—

Mmmuh!" Mr. Choi grabs you by your hair and tugs it harshly, making your back arch and your head rotate to his side. In the open mouth, his tongue plunges into your throat, the taste of woody herbs and bitter alcohol are flooding your tastebuds. Smearing all of your lipstick, his mouth is pressed against yours like he's sealing yours shut. You convulse your lower body in surprise of the sudden act and holy shit, get that one spot over your clit that's also stroking your gaping entrance, your body releasing all of its heat into one blaring, roaring zap, with your eyes rolling back your head, your stirred voice screaming, "FUCK!"

There is a gasp heard through the dining hall and you're not sure whether it was the chairman, a servant, or headman Park in front of you, but as you are spasming on Mr. Choi's thigh and your back arches to his chest, you feel like the world is expanding on you, peeping, intrusive onlookers cramming out their money to thank you for the show they got, white trickling through the linen of their underwear. 

Coming down from your high, weakened and all the while more aroused by the mafiaboss whispering the words "good girl" into your ear, you try to open your eyelids to catch headman Park putting on some black leather-gloves he got from his briefcase, muttering something under his breath to the mafiaboss.

“Go."

What the fuck?

Mr. Choi hooks his arm under your legs while he re-applies his lips to yours, and lifts you up like the pretty princess you are to most of the gawkers that don't stop watching, when he stands up.

Everybody has their eyes on the kiss the mafiaboss and servant missy are sharing, but headman Park doesn’t even look at you, when his partner starts carrying you to the elevator that's waiting for you at the wall about in the middle of the dining table, and just retrieves his open briefcase from the floor. Has he had enough of you already?

“Where are we—“, you breathe, but Mr. Choi kisses you silent, tongue forcing its entry, preventing you from figuring out what's happening, after the mafiaboss puts you down in front of the door and pushes you against the frame roughly. Cheering and hooting encourages him to continue rubbing his thumb over your skin as the other ringed fingers are holding your thigh, and you're pressed against his leg, virtually fenced in by Mr. Choi while he pushes the button for the lift to come.

His eyes are squinting to the side while he works his lips against you, in a way confirming that all of the guests (except the CEO) are begrudgingly anticipating the next actions of the mafiaboss, not caring how the headman is slowly pushing his seat away from the table to get more leg-space, which you seem to be the only person noticing it.

The golden door opens with a bell dinging the elevator’s arrival, and Mr. Choi grabs you by your ass, leading the way inside it. You can't see it correctly with your eyes closed, can only feel his big arms push into your frame, but he even makes for a show-like exit, burlesquely saluting the audience with two fingers, clicking with his mouth. It must really be a habit, you think, and giggle into the kiss.

The men attempt to throw bankrolls into your space and some succeed, some don't, but while you're glad your plan worked out, you aren't too sure what you've just done with, or for the mafiaboss.

Your heated kiss continues and because you want to feel him, you unbutton his shirt that doesn’t need that much working, three buttons being pushed open by your jellylike hands. Before you can unclothe him though, Mr. Choi pushes his arm against the mirror next to your head, stopping you to take a look at his wristwatch. He strokes his hair to the back with the other hand, revealing some of his meaty abs, and once he’s reached the backside of his head, he slides his fingers down his neck and around his Adam's apple to scratch it, announcing, “Ten minutes on the clock. Shit, brother's dick must be fucking exploding in his pants right now."

“Sir?”, you ask, overwhelmed by the words that are not making sense in your head, but also distracted by his hand that’s around your tie.

“Given he really could've finished in five but,” he yanks you towards his face. “I wanted to have you a bit more for myself, missy.”

He smiles, very arrogantly like the patronizing fuck he is, like he knows how strong he is, what a dominating aura he possesses, but at this point, in between the mirrors and on this black, marbled floor, you are not at the chairman’s dinner anymore, aren’t a servant anymore– you aren’t bound to any authority, are you?

“If you fucking call me ‘missy’ again, I’ll bite your fucking dick off.”

Except for the moment that you’re talking to him, a mafiaboss, whose breast is marked by— and you can see it very clearly now for it fits perfectly into yours— hands that have shared the same, if not a similar experience with you.

“How’d you know I was into biting, baby?”

And holy fuck, his back looks even crazier.

“God, sir,” you breathe out in awe and a little bit of fear. You can count the lines of red scratches on his back and as you finally let his shirt fall from his shoulders, the reflection of his muscles, how they relax under your touch. You become starstruck. Everything about him is so scarring, but fuck, how it attracts you, the wildness, the savagery— there’s something so free about him.

"What, baby? You like what you're seeing? How naughty..."

Ten minutes aren’t a lot, but Mr. Choi makes his best attempt to hurry over the trivial parts of fucking you. He steps closer, your ass hitting the handrail, legs crossing together, and your buttons pop in one rip, as his two hands rupture your blouse open. He lets his shirt drop to the floor, all the while his lips clash against the nook of your neck, making you sigh under the luminous lights of the elevator and grab his neck. You’re getting hazy, horny damn, it’s been so long you’ve had a good fuck. Satisfactory sex is another luxury you were postponing for later.

With his lips sewn on your shoulder, kissing and forcing his tongue against a spot he deems especially tasty, the half-naked male unzips your skirt to finally reveal the black pantyhose that looks soaked in your slick. After he chuckles at the sight of it, Mr. Choi licks over his lips and cups your jaw with his hand, drawing a trail of insatiable kisses across your skin.

“Still wanna bite my dick off?”, he asks with a sly smirk, breathy, having caught your aroused look locked on his silver chains, his jacked upper body inviting you to get your mouth in there until it’s molded around your teeth.

“Come on, baby,” the male provokes you, “You think I’m gonna fuck you just like this? Think I’m gonna ram myself inside your cute fucking cunt ‘cause I’m such a big scary fucking man?”

You inhale sharply. “N- no, I…”, you breathe out, letting your tongue run over your teeth.

“Aw, baby, am I making you shy?”, Mr. Choi hoots, “I didn’t think you were a shy one. You were pretty noisy on my thigh for your cunt, weren’t you? Getting all the sounds out for brother to hear them… You really served a show there, baby.”

Your mouth only lets out stammered gibberish– you have never learnt how to talk dirty, but Mr. Choi uses your opened lips to ram his tongue into it again anyway, and you're almost proud to say you've gotten used to it.

He breathes rashly through his nose, and he tastes less of bourbon but more of dulcet desire, mixed in with the red of your lipstick sitting on his lip. Your knee strokes his erection while he gets his hands behind your back to get your bra off, lips clashing and raving against each other. “Letting your body talk for you?”, Mr. Choi husks, panting at having his overstrained cock touched. He relieves you from the pressure around the bust and continues to ramble. "I knew I could have a lot of fun with you the second I laid my eyes on you.” You pant and reunite your lips with his. "Little missy, such a whore for the rich."

He’s overconfident he’s seeing right through you, it infuriates you. Mr. Choi massages his hands into your breasts, the cold rings grazing sharply into your warm flesh, and as your knee is still between his crotch, you huff. You can be a whore for the rich when you’re earning money, but right now, you’re doing things for your own pleasure.

“Are you going to have a lot of fun with me?”, you sing-song in a high-pitched female voice to the mafiaboss that’s immediately taken aback, and you know the word 'missy' is on top of his tongue again, when you interrupt him with a quick jab of your knee into his groin. "Shit-eating fat-cat."

Mr. Choi grunts, head tilting down. His feline eyes meet your foxy ones, and while you weren't preparing for a staredown, the mafiaboss smirks and bites his lip. 

He has a lot to say, you can see it. There’s something glimmering under the lust-drunken layer behind his eyes, and it’s deep, goes deeper, but for some reason, the mafiaboss, who just so despicably couldn’t hold his mouth, doesn’t let out the words that’s crossing his mind.

“Sir–” 

Wrong deduction.

Mr. Choi scowls in laughter, and you guess he meant to joke with you, but he means to play with you much more, when he, once again, lifts you up, by your waist this time, and balances you on the handrail.

Resting his forearm on your thighs to stabilize you, Mr. Choi digs in his pocket to fetch his cigarette box, looking at himself through the mirror and shaking some strands out of his face. "Shit-eating fat-cat," he repeats with a lisp, pulling out one of the slim rolls with the corner of his mouth, and he continues to chuckle, as he glances at you through his eyelashes, "you should've said that to the old geezer when you had the chance to, baby."

"The chairman?"

No answer. Mr. Choi lights his cigarette with a zippo, and keeps it lit in his mouth, as he, with no forewarning, tears open your pantyhose from your crotch with both of his hands, spreading your legs wide. You have to get your hands around his head to be able to keep yourself on the handrail.

“Why do you look so scared? Think I’m gonna fuck you?”, he lisps. “I’m just taking a good look, baby. What a pretty cunt you got there, baby.”

You gulp. Mr. Choi slides his index finger across your heated folds through the fabric and your cunt clenches together, wanting to be filled up. “Sir,” you sigh, and the mafiaboss pulls in smoke from his cig, raising an eyebrow.

“What, baby? ‘You need something?”, he asks, “You’re not a fucking servant anymore, or do you need to be ordered around, missy?”

You try to look angry, but Mr. Choi only pouts and presses his finger through your panties, soaking them in your slick that’s gathered at your entrance. “Desperate to please the money-man? So wet for him…”

“Fuck you,” you mewl, but Mr. Choi knows what he’s doing when he thumbs your clit and exhales smoke into your face, hiding his face for a short second which gives you confidence. “I need you… to fuck me.”

“What did you say, baby? I couldn’t hear.”

“Please, sir, just… fuck me, please…”

“Louder.”

“God! Just fuck me! Didn’t you say we have ten minutes? Make them fucking count!”

“There we go, baby. My slutty little missy. Oh, baby, you’re growing on me, brother’s gonna hate that.” 

You huff and Mr. Choi slides your panties off your legs, taking a short glimpse at his wristwatch. “Damn, ten’s really a short time.”

How many minutes have passed? Ten already? You know you said it, but you mentioned it only because it made sense, if you’re honest, you have no clue what the time is worth for. Aren't these the men who have time for gold?

The biting smell of tobacco enters your nose, making you cough out loud. Is smoking even allowed in the elevator? Wait, wait, wait, no, maybe you should worry about other things, for example what you're going to do when those ten minutes are over, when all of this is over. They clearly have some type of plan and thing they are carrying out right now, but you don’t know how much you’re invited in there. 

Mr. Choi finishes his quick break, inhaling one last puff and keeping his cig between his lips again, and his hands unbuckle his belt in silence, while you contemplate.

Clanking, ruttling, and steps begin to thump behind the door— have any of you two even pressed a button? The mafiaboss looks concentrated, fixed on your cunt, taking out his throbbing, panging cock out his underwear, stroking it a few times to god, fuck, finally get to touch it after having been dry-humped hot.

Squelching, huffing, and voices echo through the floor— is that the chairman you hear? You can only yelp, when Mr. Choi drags off your panties and slathering his thick fingers across your folds in one, then penetrating with another forceful movement.

"Fuck!", you hiss out, grabbing the handrail next to your hips, trying to balance yourself on it still. The mafiaboss snickers into your ear, and tours through your cunt, all the while it appears that all hell is breaking loose outside.

BANG!

"Sir, what—!"

"Shhh, baby," Mr. Choi hushes you, and takes out his cig with the fingers that are now glistening with your wetness, placing it on top of his lips vertically to the scar that is accompanying his smug smirk.

BANG!

"You got nothin' to worry 'bout, baby," he lulls, "we're just eatin' the pheasant and the egg here," and exhales smoke into your face out his mouth-hole, which distracts you from the third, fourth—

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Another proverb, pheasant and the egg— 'two birds with one stone'. Mr. Choi unfolds his hand as if he was counting the minutes, or the shots— wait, yes, shots! Fuck, those are gun-shots, right? You've never heard something so loud ever in your life, where does someone get guns from in South Korea? What even would they need guns for? Why would they use them? What the fuck is happening outside?!

"Oh, fuck!", you moan out, before fear and realization can crawl up your scalp and take away your lusting for the male, Mr. Choi has jerked his hip up, his cock gliding into you smoothly as if your cunt was made for him, the length and girth perfectly curling inside. Your back arches, at least as far as you can arch it, and he grins bemusedly at your jolted reaction.

BANG!

With every blast that follows, Mr. Choi is thrusting into you, first slowly, but then adding more speed and vigor as he goes, or as the blasting goes, making you shakily watch yourself be wrecked by the broad man through the reflection on the other side, your legs dangling with his rough movement.

You don't know how he's fucking you through your tightness, because with each ducking of his hips it feels like your inner walls are expanding more and ungodly more, as if he was piercing you in half.

Small puffs of smoke leave Mr. Choi's mouth each time he pants out raspy "oh baby"s and loud claps of him slapping your ass overtone the screaming, scrambling noises outside, as you two work your lower bodies against and into each other, growing more passionate, throbbing feverishly.

"Fuck, baby," Mr. Choi hisses, cigarette tilting in his mouth, as his face frowns together. "So fucking good for daddy, aren't you? So fucking tight and wet, such a good fucking girl—"

The screams outside are dying down, but the mafiaboss and you are getting louder, breathier, lustier; with your head falling backwards, hitting the mirror, the twisting feeling of fear and the ecstasy to be bouncing on Mr. Choi's big cock mix up like one hellish drink, boiling and churning inside of you.

Smashing both his hands on each of you ass-cheeks to dig his fingers into them and get more stability to ram into you so fast, and oh boy, it's so fucking fast, you're going to spiral— Mr. Choi sputters, "Are you gonna come? Are you going to come for daddy, baby? Greedy baby gonna take daddy's huge fucking load?"

The male is unraveling, his once low, stable voice turning into a whiny, hoarse, cracked mess just like you, practically urging, begging you to finally take the name ‘daddy’ into your mouth.

"Come on baby, say it for me, huh? Feels good to be my slut?", he disentangles, "Be a good slut for daddy, baby."

"I'm not gonna call you— that, fuckhead!", you moan, though your insides are curdling together to finally be released, the knot tightening with each drop of sweat that is forming on your boiling face.

"Really? Think you can afford to misbehave, baby?", Mr. Choi snickers and spits his cig on the floor, your ass being handled at an insane speed, his cock slipping in and out of you with rough ease. He takes it upon himself to dig his teeth into the nook of your neck, biting you heftily, your pulse knocking against your throat, as you feel his cock run in and out of your cunt. Your head goes light and dazed, but before you can gasp out your high from being fucked, bitten, sent to bliss, the male sinks you deep into his cock fully, it does not give you the last thrust you would need to—

"Fuckfuckfuck, I'm gonna cum," you whimper, needing to tremble, but unable to move because his hands are restricting you from any movement, and you continue to bring out a string of weak "pleasepleaseplease" that bounces back from the mafiaboss, who is raising an eyebrow, waiting for the magic word to be spoken out of your wet lips. Tears have formed at the corner of your eye and he thumbs it away, grinning coyly.

"Fuck you, I'mnotgonna fucking, ugh—!", you sob, "I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!"

"Aww, you wanna hate daddy so bad, don’t you?”

“Fuuuck you!” Whines leave your mouth, wanting to cum, wanting to move, wanting for Mr. Choi to continue fucking into you and not wipe away your tears.

“Just say you love me, baby,” he heaves and returns his hand to your hip.

Thrusting into you once with a clap against your groin, to make your cunt clench around him, and then twice with the last blood-curdling BANG! from outside, his cock is deep inside you. He feels you tighten, pulsate, craving to be released, but Mr. Choi will not move again to your liking until you finally let go of yourself, which riles you up with no hope.

"F— Fuuuck, okay!", you scream out, annoyed, angry, wanting to fucking cum; "Daddy!", you sob and Mr. Choi smirks, instantly getting to work to toast the adieu of your pride. Thumb on your clit, he circles around your sensitive bud to double the tension you feel through all of your body, while you gutter, "fuck me, daddy, please, make me cum, please, daddy, please—"

He laughs, no, howls— elated, animated, drunk, and then, with his strong, buff fucking arms, pounds you into his cock like a punching bag, your ass hitting his pelvis so many times until you have to use his gelled hair as a last resort to hold yourself up and not push yourself from the handrail with your head against the mirror, but he holds you, holds you steadily in his grip.

"Good god, good fucking missy, such a good fucking slut for me, cum all over my cock–   all over my fucking cock, baby," Mr. Choi grunts, and the string that was keeping you balanced snaps, your orgasm hitting you like that makes your insides tighten around the mafiaboss and his throbbing girth, your whole body being flushed by an overwhelming wave of pleasure which you drink up whole. His cockhead rubs against your sweetspot, you riding out the high while seeing nothing but bliss.

"Holy fuck," you breathe, and your fingers grip into the thick skin of his back, and with Mr. Choi's hips not stopping to hit your pelvis, there are additional, injuring, deep red marks on there with every thrust. You’re scratching him like a beast wanting to tear up its prey, but the beast is fucking into you like there’s no tomorrow. His cock does not stop grazing against your deepest spot, tears rolling down your heated cheek, and your mouth is unable to get out the words you want it to when you get the feeling that he's going to cum soon.

"O- out," you warn him, but the mafiaboss makes a disappointed face, “I– I really can’t afford a child, p-please pull out–!”

He draws his eyebrows in, scoffs and looks you deep in the eyes, his muscular body tucked in, murmuring, rambling out his whiskey-painted throat, “Is that really your only problem, baby? That you don’t have enough money?” His forehead leans against yours and your eyelids flutter open– you are being a mitt around his dick– and he pouts in pity, his iron cross hanging from his chest, as he talks to you.

Mr. Choi gets his hand flat on your lower belly and presses down on it, feeling himself bulge inside you. He moves his hips slowly, his cockhead dragging across your sweetspot, while he gutters, “you’d look so sexy as a mother, don’t you think, baby? With the tummy and all.”

“S- sir, please I–”

"Come on, do you think I don’t have enough money to pay for a fucking kid? God, how fucking annoying– I’m not that kind of man, baby,” Mr Choi growls, his voice vibrating against your cheek, as he charges his forehead deeper against yours, “I still got some honor.”

You shake your head, unsure whether there are pills for after in the pharmacies, or whether the mafiaboss will really be there to be with you as he promises, but Mr. Choi continues to beg in his low breathy, guttery voice. “Baby,” he rumbles, pressing even harder on your abdomen, your ass being pushed into the handrail that you’re sure it’s going to leave one red straight mark, and his cock is almost exploding from the edge, “Let me, no, let daddy cum into your tight cunt, baby, please.”

God, he wants you. He wants you so bad, doesn’t he?

"Y- you should see yourself," you chuckle, stroking over Mr. Choi's gelled hair, and his head tilts up a little bit as your fingers get tangled in his black locks, the white of his eyes making him look like a wild dog waiting for its treat. "F-fucking do it, you fucking slut."

"Fuck, baby," he laughs, out of breath, "You’re really a price."

Mr. Choi hammers his hips into you, until the stars in front of you all look like wishes falling from the sky. Both of you feel it, how his cock just feels so right, fits in like your cunt is a fucking glove which is full and getting even fuller.

"God, fuck," Mr. Choi grunts from the bottom of his throat, his hot cum lading into you, and it's like your lower body is melting with it, becoming heavier with every drop he's unloading inside.

"Take all of my fucking cum," he husks and your faces clash together for one finishing wild kiss. Mr. Choi sucks on your lower lip, as he fucks his ejaculation deeper and deeper into your hole with slow thrusts, until he bucks up his pelvis the last time and moans out a raspy, “perfect fucking missy with a perfect fucking cunt..."

Ding!

For a man that uses his mouth so sparingly, his tongue surely works wonders.

"Sir, are you—"

Headman Park has entered the elevator without a word, pulling off his leather gloves, and with Mr. Choi stepping away, he has all the place he requires to get on his knees and throw your leg over his shoulder, his wet and warm muscle delving into your throbbing cunt. You've been bereaved of the time to inspect what was behind or around him when the door closed, but maybe that's irrelevant anyways. What is relevant, is how impatient, but also how careful the CEO remains, and how he still tries his best to slowly sift his tongue into your folds, feeling every inch of your wetness. He’s been dying to do this.

"Fuck, sir!"

"Please," the CEO chuckles, hastily pulling the black leathery from his hands to put it back in his briefcase that he's been carrying, but he doesn't miss your cunt once, purling over your clit and glancing at you. "Call me Seonghwa, princess."

You could cum right here and there, just at the sight of this pretty man looking up to you, who has laid out his first name and put it into yours, scream it out loud until everyone hears what a princess you've been made of.

Princess. You knew his eyes were different, but you didn’t know they saw the world differently too. Oh, how you wish you could see more of his world.

"Aww, what? That's why you're still a foreigner in our country, brother! 'Can't be dropping our titles," Mr. Choi huffs and lights himself a second cigarette, filling the elevator with smoke and tobacco. How his breath really doesn't smell is questionable to you.

Just like you, the CEO, or how you're allowed to call him now— Seonghwa, ignores his partner's words, laps over your clit with his tongue, gently easing into your cunt with his clean fingers, and your soft sighs are like a reward for him, for whatever he's done outside.

"Respect, brother, 's all about respect..."

You tighten your thighs around Seonghwa's neck. The charcoal-haired has closed his eyes, sighing into the taste of you, and you are flawlessly overlooking the loud mafiaboss, just completely concentrating on the commitment the CEO is eating you out with. His head fits magically between your legs, he works his fingers so flawlessly into you, this must be fate— and if it's not, you're going to make it your future in any which way possible. You're falling. No, flying; never coming down.

"Seonghwa," you whine, and your hand glides over the hooked male's forehead, his hair feeling smooth under your touch as he presses his tongue slowly— in circular motion— against your clit to keep you on the high, but not in a way that would make you trip over.

"Mmf," the mafiaboss in front of you huffs, clearly attracted, enticed by the way you've exhaled the other male’s first name, scratching his temple with the fingers that are holding his cigarette.

"Whether you wanna call me San or 'daddy', baby," the scarred male, no, San, the fucker grins, "I'm gonna be hearing both either way."

"Fuck—", you moan out, having to take a breath because of how Seonghwa has curled his fingers into you with his tongue ready to shovel anything into his mouth that comes out, "you, fuckhead!"

The CEO is giggling a bit, finding your tone very amusing— and he tries to tell you this by looking up and slanting his eyes a friendly way, no, a way that you've never even conjured up the fantasy to perceive him, the cold-faced Park Seonghwa who hasn't drunk a drop of alcohol tonight. What pureness in a man...

"I liked 'fat-cat' better,” San snickers and goes through his hair that definitely needs combing, turning around and looking at himself through the mirror, though his eyes squint towards Seonghwa's reflection on the other side, now again lost in your cunt, taking off his jacket and folding it in half behind his back.

"Brother, you're eating my cum, by the way," the mafiaboss jabs, puffing out smoke while he's decidedly getting hard again in his trousers. San really can't hide his emotions on his face, can he? His lips are pursed, eyebrows slightly pulled in— how obvious. The man is jealous and doesn't want to admit it, you're sure of it.

"Shut up," you hiss, having become a bit comfortable with teasing the frustrated, outwitted mafiaboss. Ten minutes were definitely too little for him, but you've already rid his thigh, let him cum inside, and Seonghwa is simply too good with his tongue right now.

"Fuuuck," you whisper, and feel every drowsy twirl of his finger inside you, but it's slow, so slow, Seonghwa is swerving around every sponginess inside you, savoring the contraction of your inner space, and how your muscles tighten, when he licks over your clit, he enjoys this; enjoys you.

And so it continues, Park Seonghwa exploring every detail of your cunt as if he's a sommelier tasting the rarest of fluids, appreciating every drop that lands on his tongue, his fingers making sure that they don't go to waste.

"Shit," San comments, "I should've eaten her out, too."

The CEO is not cocky about it, about the way you are grabbing into his hair and squirming, how he has to slightly lift you up so you don't fall from your position. And then, when Seonghwa thinks your taste has perfectly coated his palate, speeds up.

"Fuck, sir," and the title slips out of you, like a habit you can't change for good when you feel so small. The CEO between your legs doesn't mind it though, at least doesn't say anything on it and just lets his fingers hit your sweet spot until there is a distinctive "Seonghwa" leaving sighed out your lips.

"I'm going to—", you announce, but the male has been long aware of it, preparing himself more access by bending his upper body to angle himself across your cunt, giving his partner a better view on how you glisten in arousal.

San in front of you is standing frozen, with his cigarette slowly burning out in his mouth, and you recompense the lack of his cock in your cunt by moaning louder, so your voice can vibrate around his erection. He grins and gets a tongue to his canine tooth, naked upper body still glowing in sweat, muscles shining, cock twitching every time he hears you breathe, and breathe more intensely, "make me cum, Seonghwa, please!"

"I knew you would taste delicious," Seonghwa murmurs, silently, rather for himself, and this must be how he sounds when he's drunk, because he is so high on your taste, "but this is ambrosial, princess."

You curl up your pelvis, and Seonghwa holds you by your hips, as his tongue picks up in speed, drawing out every word he hasn't spoken tonight on your labia, stamping them into your clit, all the while his fingers row in more and every last drop.

"C- coming~", you purr, and your eyes close down, your hands deep in Seonghwa's scalp, exhaling the weight of your worries, that flushes down into the man who seems to have none in his life, and he breathes into your hot cunt through his nose, not letting go of it until he's made sure that your hips tremble around his head. "P- please, f- fuck, fuck, feels so good—"

Pumping the remaining come into you, Seonghwa licks up your cunt and kisses your clit until you go completely flaccid, your arms giving in, but Seonghwa catches you by your hand, kissing your thigh with his swollen pink lips.

With your body relaxed, your ass feels a bite sore, having been prodded into the iron rail for so long. You grab into Seonghwa's hand and try to push yourself up, but ultimately fail at getting yourself into a more comfortable position.

"San, hold her."

"Huh?", he asks, "'Need something more snuggly, baby? Or what did you call her again, brother?"

"Princess," the CEO answers immediately and you have to suppress a girly giggle, as Seonghwa turns his head around, lips still pressed against your thigh. He presumably sends San an admonitory look to hurry up, and gets up from his knees.

The mafiaboss shrugs, not offended by being ordered around. He puts out the cigarette against the mirror and cracks his neck by rolling his head around, his thick neck dousing into your sight as he does so. He's so intimidating, you think, but he's on his way to coast those monster-arms behind your back, hands down to each of your hamstrings to, "up you go," pick you up like real royalty. The giggle escapes your mouth but you don't feel the slightest embarrassed nor do you have a reason to be. You are sunken deep into San’s cushiony arms— his muscles make for a great seat, and hovering, air hitting your hot cunt, as your legs spread for the CEO in front of you when you fall into the elbows. You yelp, but the giggles just keep coming, making San in the mirror in front of you wink at you, cackling, "you like that, princess?"

Seonghwa smiles, satisfied by your enjoyment of this position and approaches you once more. "I have yet to kiss you, Y/N," he says with his sweet voice, and his gentle hands find your chin and waist, your eyes blossoming open for him to stare into.

Even San shuts up now, and you suppose he is too taking part in the beauty that is the embrace of you and Seonghwa; two sets of lips, crazing each other, meeting for one flowery affair, breathing out small vapors of life. You can taste yourself, which means that Seonghwa is fully consumed by your aroma.

God, you think again, your cunt tingling at how Seonghwa tugs at his tie, pulling it side to side as he kisses you— the golden 'π'-pin clanks shrill to the floor— everything about Seonghwa is so...

Clean?

You are inhaling the mellow smell of his satiny skin, and the CEO unbuttons his shirt with proficient, skilfull flicks of his fingers. He is so handsome, handsomely pretty, and even when it’s drenched in your fluids, his skin shines on its own, like Seonghwa has a light shining within. Once you can see his bare chest and get lost on the smooth surface, your eyes dive down, admiring his slim, yet very muscular physique.

Seonghwa gets his tie and drags off his shirt by tugging at one sleeve with his hand, the white fabric revealing the rest of body with one clean pull that matches one of the curtains.

"W-", and you have to jump back with your head to get the full spectacle that's presented in front of you, exhaling in awe— "Wow.."

"Not so blank, our brother, is he?", San chuckles from behind of you and lowers his head to press his chin against your temple, surveying the same sight.

Two colossal, monstrous dragons, red and black, are colliding, looped, entangled all around Seonghwa's right arm, fighting for dominance on his skin. The raven hydra has its jaw wide open where Seonghwa looks to his shoulder with a rather shy smile once he sees your reaction, baring its teeth towards his heart, while the crimson dragon ends at the CEO's wrist, sitting on top of his pulse.

"Would you believe me it was brother's idea, baby?"

"As if," Seonghwa murmurs, folding his shirt into a square.

San chuckles again, re-shuffling himself and pressing your back close to his stomach, granting the back of your head to rest at his collarbone. "I asked her if she would believe, brother."

You watch the delicate lines, the elegant strokes of tint meeting on his skin, but while your first impression made you believe they carried a certain viciousness with their svelte bodies, the second sight presents you a different image of two forces maneuvering into each other as a reminder that they both co-exist as supreme. It's not one another they're reviling against, it's the bearer of the both who is threatened by their fangs. Their existence is a warning reminder, but also a sign of pride.

"I believe it's... beautiful."

“Aw, you’re so sweet, baby.”

You haven't seen many tattoos in your life, none in the mountains, and even in the city the only observable tattoos were those of the sleazy guys in alleys that wait when you're done with your job to gape at your uniform. They got tigers and other animals roaring on their bodies to hide the fact they don't have the fighting skills to keep up, but for Seonghwa, a CEO, to have this amount of ink under his skin is a commitment and to imagine he’s hiding that under his ironed shirt and black jacket, no, that you are seeing it right now, it’s… You’re overwrought, steamed up, aflame.

"Wanna touch it, baby?", San asks, and you nod eagerly. Seonghwa chuckles, “Go for it.”

You let your fingertip ghost over the dragons' scales, tailing their curvature. Goosebumps form on Seonghwa's arm and his hand finds its way to your head, stroking your cheek, as you meet the red beast's eyes.

The mafiaboss whispers, almost sentimentally, "No blood or tears."

Another expression, which proves to you that the tattoo was undoubtedly his idea, but you see it, the romance that is spoken from the male's skin, regardless of the little insight you have on both of them. Loyalty, reverence, creed, a belief and a duty, and before you know it, you want Seonghwa to enwrap you with his arms and never let you go, which he does.

His slender hand cloaks the left side of your head, and he pulls himself into a kiss, while he unbuckles his belt with his other hand.

You don't know how much you understand of this situation, no, you don't know how much you want to understand of this situation.

You've been on your own. That's all you ever had after you left home: Your body and soul, the windstorms of the mountains pushing you from the back to keep going, and you've lived your best life living for yourself that way, in bliss, in ignorance— in peace, but what is peace in a place where you can't move by yourself? In a world that’s maimed by the rich, and sure, it may be that you’ve chosen your path, but you were never walking a road that was yours, always trailing behind something.

Nameless, that’s what you thought you would need to be.

Your monks wanted to be called their title like everyone else, it would have been disrespectful to ask Lady Kim for hers which you now regret, and not even as a secret did your old man tell you his name, but you— you, Y/N, you have a name and you want to scream it, live it as loud as you can, hear it echo back with a volume that feels stronger when it rings back.

You could have settled on being acknowledged by your supervisor to earn some good money, but this is what you’re here for, aren’t you? Why you trusted your gut to stick to the scary men? Why you walked to them with confident steps, even when a nervous knot was forming together inside you? Did you go as what, an act of defiance? One of independence? To prove yourself that you were still standing on your own feet?

"Speaking of, brother..."

Yes, with no shame.

"You really enjoyed yourself back there, didn’t you?”, San asks. “Didn’t expect that from you.”

Seonghwa is kissing you down your breast, observing closely how you breathlessly react to his tongue twirling around your nipple.

"You left me no other chance," the older male hums, coating your circular buds with his saliva, bringing out your heavenly sighs every chance he gets, stroking himself to the sounds of your pleasure.

"Well, I would have made sure you still fucked her, brother."

“Sure,” Seonghwa lisps and positions his cockhead at your entrance. 

You try to grab San's shoulder behind you, as the male pushes himself inside, and your torso rotates to the side with your eyebrows pulling together, your cunt being spread apart.  “F-fuck,” you exhale, and Seonghwa kisses the corner of your lip to soothe you. Your cunt squelches around his cock and your hips roll by themselves, wanting to take more of his length.

"Shit, look at her go," the mafiaboss woos, "Fuck yourself out, brother."

"Think you’ll miss this?", Seonghwa snickers and it must be the first question he has asked today. “Y- yeah, you will!”, you snap, feeling eager to be acknowledged for how good your cunt wraps around his throbbing heat. 

“Oh, princess,” the CEO laughs, and your stomach drops because of how pretty his laughter sounds, and he caresses your cheek, only making your confusion and desire to finally uncover what the two men have obviously been keeping from you grow bigger. You don’t want to say it abruptly, but you three are naked, in a confined space, skins pressed against each other, so you believe you’re worth some type of explanation– or are you not?

“C- can you tell me what’s going to happen?”, you whine, and Seonghwa moves his hips, grabbing you by your waist to get his whole length. “Are you, fuck, going to leave me?”

“I dunno, brother, you call it,” San mutters. “It was your plan.”

“D- don’t!”

“It’s barely my plan anymore,” Seonghwa breathes, bucking his pelvis in, his cockhead being sucked in by your sensitive cunt.

“Don’t leave me!”

“You needed a distraction, brother, I got you one.”

“No,” Seonghwa chuckles, but in his heat, he kisses you and glances up at San while his tongue brushes against your lip. “But I’ll admit she saved us some jail-time, San.”

They continue talking over your pleas, and though you would have loved to ask a second time how the night was going to end, your brain has started to give into the pleasure once San folds your legs together, holding you by your hamstrings, giving Seonghwa an easier angle to fuck you senseless. 

“F- fu-huuck,” you breathe out, and your eyes are disappearing behind your molten, droopy eyelids, with Seonghwa cumming for the second time on your abdomen and cleaning it up with his handkerchief, and you don’t even know when it was, that San crammed out his cock   again, but you can definitely feel the difference of his girth, when he re-enters your used cunt, your legs shakily landing on the floor. They feel wobbly, your thighs having gone loose, and the mafiaboss has to hold you by your arms behind your back to support you.

“Can’t take it anymore, baby?”, San whispers into your ear, and his voice is low, very low, you don’t know how much time has passed since you could make out any of his words, but it feels like you’re back here, in the elevator, and Seonghwa is putting on his belt again.

“I c- can!”, you manage to whine out, not wanting the night to end, not wanting to return to your small apartment, not wanting these two to be gone from your life. “I can!”, you repeat yourself, when San lets out a mockful cackle. “You’re not going to fucking leave me here, San!”

“Who said anything about leaving you here, baby?”, he asks you, and he does mean his confusion, but the sarcastic undertone makes you desperate grow desperate. San frowns. “What did I tell you, baby?”

“You aren’t telling me shit, San!”, you sob, and his cock running through you prevents you from finding a braver voice, his two hands find your wrists to bind them together in his grip. “Aren’t you such a smartie,” he growls into your ear, hot air hitting your dissolving ear.

“Brother,” San calls out, and the addressed man is busy opening up his briefcase, getting on his knee. “I’m still waiting on you, y’know.”

“If you had stuck to the plan, th–” Seonghwa murmurs, but the mafiaboss falls into his word. “Then we would have fuckin’ send the bitch to prison and someone else would have him killed him, but there! You know I didn’t come with the fucking patience for that, brother! Geezer was getting on my fucking nerves.”

Killed?

“And don’t you talk back now,” San warns, “It was you who killed all of ‘em, so you figure out how you’re going to carry that one out.”

Killed?

“You already know how I’m going to carry this out.” Seonghwa smirks. “But you’re stopping me, San.”

“Augh, brother, you’re too sober for your own sake!” San’s cock is too deep in your cunt and your body is too much in his control for you to stop moaning like a bitch, but in your head, you’re puzzling together tonight’s happenings.

Expensive whiskey. Ice cubes. Ten minutes, gunshots, black leather gloves– “killed.”

Oh, Y/N.

“What did you do with the chairman, Seonghwa?”, you moan out, feeling how the mafiaboss is ramming himself into you at a sloppy, greedy pace, prolonging how much he can be inside you before he comes again, and you don’t know whether his heavy breathing can cover up the silence that it takes for the CEO to react to your question.

Seonghwa is still kneeled on the floor, when he rotates his head, smiling, his eyebrows pushed up. “What do you think I did?” His second question of the day.

“I- I,” you stutter, but San shakes his head, and interrupts you with his voice still loose from the alcohol, “you really don’t know how to keep up a good mood, brother!”, grabbing you by your chin and yanking your head up. “Lemme make my baby cum first!”

You can’t see Seonghwa anymore. You can barely see anything anymore, you’re counting your fifth or sixth orgasm of the night, cunt growing hotter with each time San thrusts into it, and with your breath being cut off, you slowly feel your arms lose their responsibility, tingling up from where your wrists are crossed behind your back. His cockhead is flaying against your g-spot and your thighs tremble at how used you’re being, eyes falling in, throat feeling tied up.

“S- San,” you manage to cough out, back arching for your final cry of pleasure, and San grins, letting go of your wrists, which makes you immediately fall to the front, finding safety against the mirror with both of your hands. He smacks his hands against your ass and lunges into you until your whole breast is pushed against the cold wall. 

“Come on, baby, come for me,” San roars, and you wail, tired, exhausted, feeling the orgasm drown you like another wave in the ocean of bliss you’ve been swimming in, whining out, “coming, coming for you, San!”

The mafiaboss presses himself against your back, his silver cross being imprinted into your neck, as he unloads himself, his last drops of hot cum overflowing out of you. “Fucking slut… So fucking good…”

He kisses your jaw repeatedly and looks at how tiredly closed your eyes are in the mirror, cooing “aww, baby.” San strokes away a strand of hair and gets himself off your body, pulling out. “You look like you need some sleep, baby.”

You are trying to catch your breath, grabbing the handrail to hold yourself up, as it sounds like San is putting on his shirt again. They’re gonna fucking leave you here, aren’t they? Leave you here in the elevator with the– with the fucking bankrolls on the floor of the fucking men you fucking– Oh god… Keep breathing, Y/N. Keep on breathing.

“I mean all I’m saying… you know… lobsters and crabs are friends, pal.”

What the fuck is he on again…

“You’re making this hard on yourself.”

“I’m not doing anything, just sayin’ that she just grew on me, that’s all.”

Your legs tremble, as you try straightening them to stand up and see what the two are scheming again, but as you turn your body around, ass against the handrail again, you hear a very unfamiliar clicking in front of your forehead area which is not coming out of San’s mouth.

“You’ve grown soft. That’s what you did.”

“Ahhh, fuck you, brother.”

“Pathetic.”

You see a hole, and it also doesn’t take you long to see Seonghwa ready to pull the trigger, the mafiaboss leaning into the corner of the elevator, arms crossed, looking at you with an unlit cigarette in his mouth, pressing the button that leads to the lobby.

The night is over.

“A- are you going to– oh my g-god, are you going to kill me…?”

“Yes, princess.”

Your heart is going to burst, you could puke out so many words right now, but you don’t know what to do. You don’t want to die, not when you felt so fucking alive– you– fuck, you should feel sorry that your coworkers that they didn’t deserve to go the same way as the asswipes did, because you’ve long realised that the bangs were their skulls being crushed by the bullets, but at the same time you couldn’t care any fucking less about them right now. You just have to survive, that was the only thing that mattered since the very beginning. This is about your life. Your precious fucking life.

“Ah…”

Your body is too weak to hyperventilate, but your brain is working overtime. Do you run? Attack them? No…

Seonghwa hasn’t moved an inch away from your face, and you take it upon yourself to raise your hand and slowly push the cold, black gun to the side, so you can look him in his eyes, but he forces it back there.

“Please don’t kill me… I can do so much for you! I– I,” you stutter, trying to gather all the knowledge your monks have taught you. “I– I’ll do anything! You– you saw me, didn’t you? I have– I’ve been told I have a talent for serving! I– I can do anything, please, I beg you, just…”

You fall to your knees, and they burn on the glassy floor, your hands folded in front of your abdomen. 

“Just please, let me live…”

You’re not greedy. You’ve only taken what you were given, and tonight, you’ve been given so much. Too much? No, it couldn’t be…

“Brother.”

There are tears flowing down your eyes, and you feel so sorry for yourself. You miss your old monk, and hope that you may be reincarnated to a butterfly that he can admire, just so that he can look at you with his adoring eyes again. So someone can want the best for you once in your life–

“Brother?”

So anyone can finally love you for once in your life.

[http-lovelyknow]

Infuriating -Johnny Suh Pt2

Hello! The long awaited Infuriating pt2 is here!! 

Thank you to everyone for requesting a part 2 and I’m sorry it took me so long😅

Part 1 Here

And I want to give a special thank you to @flowerboykun for proofreading this and making this incredible banner for me I appreciate you so much!

And big thank you to @se-onghwa for proofreading and all the words of support! 

This is part 2 to the Infuriating I posted on my old blog @we-are-luxury-and-treasure hope you like it!

TW NSFW - Dom(softish) Johnny, Sub(reader) but those are the only TW I think? Sorry if I missed anything

Word count -  3,195

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To say that Johnny was stalking you would be an overstatement, it was more like haunting.

Ever since you snapped at him a couple of weeks ago you feel like he’s just been. . . watching you. He’s always just somewhere around the corner and you start to feel like prey. His dark amber eyes seem to follow you everywhere and record your every move.

You often recall his threat of “Next time you’ll be punished, so please behave.” At the worst times it never fails to send shivers down your spine.

Today is no different, except instead of shivering alone in the safety of your house away from Johnny, you're thinking of his threat right in front of him like the idiot you are.

Currently trying not to sweat, you're applying makeup to his face for an interview they have, and while the boys behave better, Johnny is still acting up and pushing your buttons just not in the same way. Now he does things like, winking at you, putting his hand on your back to move past even if he didn't need to, leaning too close to whisper something to you, etc, etc but today he’s actually been well mannered.

You lightly hum to yourself as you carefully place eyeshadow onto Johnny's eyelids, his calm breathing is slightly suspicious, he never sits still, but you’ll take what you can get.

The lively sounds of the boys roughhousing behind you fill the room while you stand between Johnny's knees to get every detail right. You shift your weight to one side, you lean over, and grab a clean brush on the table behind his shoulder. 

Mark then decided this would be a perfect time to stumble back, knocking you into Johnny which wouldn’t have been so bad had Johnny not immediately gripped the back of your thighs much tighter than was necessary, effectively holding you against him.

A small yip escapes you when you make contact and you quickly try to scan his face to see if there was a mistake in his makeup due to you being pushed, when you find none you look up and notice Johnny staring at you. 

His eyes flick from your eyes to your lips a couple of times before he takes in a shaky breath and you realize you're still on top of him.

You feel the burn of embarrassment through your spine to the pit of your stomach and try to move away.

He flexes his fingers for a second demanding you meet his gaze one more time.

And you swear to god the spark his amber eyes ignite is enough to set your every nerve on fire.

The whole ordeal takes less than five seconds, Mark is already pulling you up and off of Johnny and starts spilling apologies through his laughter.

 You brush him off as well as yourself with a soft “no harm done” and everyone went about their business, but Johnny suddenly seemed. . . off

So here you are, waiting behind the camera of the well-lit studio trying to figure out what the hell is wrong with Johnny, he keeps avoiding eye contact and shifting around in his seat. 

The lights have caused a slight sheen of sweat to appear on your skin, and just as you go to wipe your brow you finally notice what made Johnny so uncomfortable.

The poor man has a boner.

And there's nothing he can do about it.

The situation is almost laughable until you happen to catch his eye and he sees you smirking. 

You’ve never seen such a livid fire in someone’s eyes.

I’m absolutely and royally fucked.

The interview ended much too quickly in your opinion, you’re all ushered into the ‘backstage’ area.

As you’re gently wiping the makeup off Yuta’s face a very impatient Johnny hovers close by you. 

Everyone packs up and leaves, you remain in the semi-lit room gathering all the little tools and brushes.

Hearing footsteps approach, your heart drops, you know exactly who it is, and how much trouble you’re in.

“Do you happen to remember what was said the last time we spoke?” He’s behind you, “Cause I remember a very clear warning was given to you.” Too afraid to turn around, you remain with feet frozen and gently lift your head to catch his reflection in the mirror. Big mistake.

It never ceases to amaze you just how intimidating the usually sweet but large man is, especially when he’s looking at you like that.

Like he’s a hunter who has fatally cornered his prey, you.

A hot chill shoots through your body as you watch him approach your backside, trying to steady yourself as you grip the makeup table in front of you when he's finally close enough to touch you.

“You think you’re so slick don’t you?” Oh shit, he knows

He smirks as he continues with a taunting cadence in his voice “Think I haven’t noticed the way you’ve been acting? Always standing closer to me than you do the others when you do our make up, always leaning further into me,” He presses himself against you pushing you roughly into the table with his own causing a sharp pain in your hip bones as he leans in closer dropping his tone “Wearing clothes that show just a little more skin, wearing a hint more perfume than normal. . . you really think you’d get away with that shit going unnoticed?”

And that’s just the thing, you wanted him to catch you. 

His hands have begun to wander up to your hips and sides, tracing your shoulders, left hand going back to your waist as the other wraps itself into your hair tugging your head to the side, you make eye contact in the mirror and holy shit does he look delicious. He’s in a white shirt and jeans leftover from the interview, bare face and hair tousled.

And he’s looking at you like you're his favorite meal.

You’re all but gasping for breath at this point, he’s literally knocked the wind from your lungs. 

And that’s when a scary thought strikes you. . . he’s hardly even touched you yet.

“Now tell me, pretty baby, did I not give you a very clear warning about what would happen if you didn't behave?”

Unable to nod with his hand holding your hair you whimper out a weak yes.

“And what did you do today that caused you this situation?”

He punctuates the last word with a knee coming in between your legs from behind, the action makes all the words you’ve ever learned flee from your brain.

“You should know better than to ignore me. . . but I’ll make it real clear for you just this once” He lets go of your hair and begins to roam with his fingertips, surprisingly gentle

“You left me painfully hard right before the interview.”

Fingers gripping your wrists he brings your hand back to start feeling his toned waist through the soft material of his shirt

“You just had to walk in looking like that today...had to let Mark push you right into me. . . just had to leave me hanging like nothing happened”

His teasing tone is too much, you have to keep stopping yourself from making any noise to not embarrass yourself.

He must notice your attempts at the silence and all it does is piss him off.

“Oh absolutely not baby, let me hear you.” 

His hands release yours and one goes to your thigh while the other slips under your shirt caressing your stomach a little more firm than his touch was before, cold rings on his fingers cause a chill to run through you leaving goosebumps behind

He’s being assertive and maybe a little aggressive but you know if you told him to stop he would. He knows you want this as bad as he does, if not even a little more. You had been teasing him after all, you wanted to push all his buttons until he snapped.

“I’m a man of my word baby. It’s time for you to be put in your place and learn who’s boss.”

You begin to push back against his hips with your own, feeling the bulge starting in his pants is driving you wild, you want so bad to run your mouth and get smart with him, but his hands on your bare skin feel so damn good you can’t bring yourself to say anything, not trusting your voice to not come out as a whine.

“What did I say about letting me hear you, baby?”

He grips the thigh he’s holding tightly and finally starts to slip his hand under your bra giving you some relief from your ever-growing frustrations.

He begins to toy with your nipple and knead your breast while his other hand travels closer to where you need him most.

The action causes you to finally let out a soft but deep moan, you reach back and grip his hair while your eyes close, head falling back onto his toned chest

“Oh god. . . that’s it baby, loosen up a bit” He encourages your sounds with a harder grip on your breast and contact with the point between your legs.

He begins to rub you through your pants, the sounds spilling from your lips become more frequent 

“Finally behaving and giving me what I want. . . Now be a good girl and tell me what it is you want from me huh?”

It takes all your willpower to reign yourself back in and attempt to speak despite him torturing you through your clothes like this.

You open your eyes and take in the sight of the two of you in the mirror. His hair is still being gripped by you, his eyes are on fire and he looks like it’s taking everything in him to hold back in case you change your mind.

But you finally have Johnny Suh with his hand up your shirt and down your pants offering you the night of your life, no way in hell you’re gonna tell him no.

You look back up into his eyes in the mirror while gripping his hair and wrist tighter

You challenge him with the most sultry tone you can muster “Johnny, I want you to ruin me, and show me who’s really in charge”

You can see in his eyes the exact moment he snaps while you speak, pupils blowing out and grip almost bruising he spins you around to face him.

He grips your jaw the way he did after you yelled at him, except instead of scolding you like he did then, he’s pressing his lips onto yours.

Moaning into his mouth you strain onto your tippy toes to match his ridiculous height, without much luck but neither of you was focusing on that at the moment.

He lifts you by the back of your thighs onto the makeup table, bringing a hand up to your chin again he tugs your jaw open to slip his tongue inside to run against your own.

And you’ll be damned if it isn’t the best thing you’ve ever felt, you vocalize this to him with another rather loud moan.

He leans back and you whine at the loss of contact as his long fingers find the bottom of your shirt.

“God baby you keep making noises like that and I can’t promise to control myself. . .”

He goes back in for another kiss as his hands make their way up your shirt again much to your relief.  

“Then don’t. . .” The words are mumbled into Johnny’s mouth but he hears them nonetheless. 

He lets out a rather dark chuckle at your attitude.

“Oh baby, you have some manners to learn” With that, he cocks his hand back and lands a loud but rather pain-free smack to the part of your thigh exposed by your high waisted shorts causing the muscles to clench on contact at the warning and a noise you didn’t know you could make left your mouth much to his delight. 

He smooths over the afflicted skin with his large palms while whispering sweet sweet praises into your ear. Johnny gently lifts your shirt over your head, he begins trailing hot open-mouthed kisses from your jaw down to your collarbone and goddamn does it make you wet.

You can feel yourself get hotter the farther down his mouth travels and you feel like if he doesn’t quit teasing you with his lips and fingertips you're gonna explode

And this is when the whining starts “Johnny. . . please do something I’m gonna die” you curl your fingers back into his hair when he laughs at how desperate you sound.

“I love the way you sound when you whine my name baby.”

“I mean it, Johnny, I'm gonna die please do something, please” your begging seems to have done the trick cause now Johnny is on his knees in front of you still looking at you like you're his favorite meal.

“Lift your hips”

That definitely wasn’t a request and you are more than willing to comply. He slips your shorts down your legs (you barely register not knowing when he unbuttoned them) along with your now-soaked underwear, your thick scent sticking in the air.

He groans at the smell of your arousal and the sight of your soaked heat “Oh fuck baby look at you. . .” using both hands he spreads your legs farther causing your lips to part “Can’t believe we haven’t done this sooner”

And with that, he dives right into biting at your soft thighs causing the sweetest sound he’d ever heard to fall from your pretty lips and he knows he’s already addicted.

“Are you ready sweet baby?” You nod.

He slaps your thigh again but harder this time leaving a full outline of his long slender hand “Use your words, baby, be a good girl and answer me properly yeah?”

“Yes Johnny, yes I’m ready, please, please I’m ready” Not your most eloquent of sentences but it satisfies him to hear your smart mouth not be so smart anymore.

“Good girl. . .” That causes a shiver to run down your whole body “Aw does my baby like being told how good she is?” 

You start to nod but remember that he wants words

“Yes dear god I love it. . .” you're honestly on the verge of tears by now, he’s been so close yet so far this whole time “Good girls get rewards, so behave.” He finally leans forward and delivers a soft lick to your sensitive clit and you don’t think you’ve ever moaned so loud in your whole life, you’ve been driven shameless by him and his mouth.

His hands hold your legs open as he works over you with his mouth, tongue applying just the right amount of friction and pressure to start pushing you to climax.

His name falls from your mouth like a prayer and it does nothing but boost his ego and drive him crazy, he’s so hard and trapped by his pants but he couldn’t care less when he finally has you on his tongue after months of secret pining and he isn’t gonna throw this chance away. 

He wants to make sure you keep coming back again, and again, and maybe even agree to be his.. But you’ll have that talk later, right now your fingernails are grazing his scalp making him groan into you, sending vibrations up your core.

Waves of white-hot electricity crash over your body, thighs trembling and tears threatening to spill out of your eyes. 

Johnny is by far the most talented man you’ve had between your legs and you're already almost about to cum, it’s so fast you’re almost embarrassed but you know that he’s doing it on purpose, proving a point to you about how you’ll now be ruined for anyone else. No one will be as good as him and you both know it.

You’re begging him to keep going but he takes it one step further by easing a slender finger into your beyond slick heat. 

“Ahhh fuck. . .” He looks up at you and the sight mixed with his tongue and fingers almost does you in right there. 

“Fuck Johnny, I’m so so close please, more please”

It’s official, he’s reduced you to nothing more than a begging, sobbing, mess.

He smirks into you while adding a third finger with the others,

“Johnnyyy” 

“Yes?” He raises an eyebrow

“Can I please, please cum? I can’t hold it anymore please”

You weren’t sure why you were asking, it just seemed like something you should do.

And you were right.

“Since you asked so nicely” He picked up the pace in all the right ways that had you falling apart right there on top of the makeup table.

You tried to stay as quiet as possible but he made that very challenging, his fingers and tongue worked you through your high in the most perfect way possible, firm but not too much to make you overly sensitive, but he knew exactly what to do to make it last as long as possible.

You're a panting sweaty mess when he stands up

“Open” remembering what he said about good girls getting rewards you immediately obey, wanting to make him pleased with you.

He shoves his fingers into your mouth and you make a point to look directly into his eyes while you clean them with your mouth, leaving little to the imagination about what you'd be doing if it wasn't his fingers..

“Fuck baby..” He groans at the sight and feeling of you “Let's get out of here yeah?” He takes a half step back and wipes his hand on his jeans,

He picks up your shirt and hands it to you. You nod and slip the light fabric over your head. 

Johnny gently lifts your chin to look at him and you aren't fully prepared for the softness in his eyes “You did so good baby, such a fast learner” Warmth spreads through you at this praise and you can't help but smile. 

You gently slip off the table onto shaky legs and go to fix your shorts when Johnny does it for you, you mumble a soft thank you, still unsure of your voice and the state it's in.

Then he surprises you again by pulling you into a hug, it's comforting but firm. He wraps one arm around your shoulders and holds your head to his chest and strokes your hair with the other. You’re quick to hold him back, enjoying the warmth and comfort of the improvised aftercare.

“Wanna head back to my place?” You feel his chest softly rumble as he lets out a sweet laugh knowing the other option is the dorm “I’d love to” 

He helps you pack up your things while making pleasant small talk, knowing a more serious conversation and more fun would be had once you get home.

You could both tell this was gonna be the start of something you both would quite enjoy.

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Thank you for reading! 

Taglist - @flowerboykun @se-onghwa

[all-about-kyu]

Pairing: Wonwoo x fem!reader

Genre: comfort, fluff, exes to lovers

Rating: PG

Warnings: anxiety/insecurity

Summary: When Wonwoo, your (unofficial) ex, come back to your apartment, how are you supposed to react?

Word Count: 471

Requested by; anon

for The Cafe request event

Wonwoo was coming over and you were beside yourself stressed about seeing him again. He left two weeks ago saying he wanted space and time to himself. You expected it in all honesty, he had been acting odd for a while now and you didn’t know what was wrong. He told you when he left that he still loves you but needed not to be living in the same space for a few days. (Which happened to be two weeks). You know you still love him too but you had technically broken up when he left. You were stressed, anxious, that he would come here and say that he wanted to officially part ways. You anxiously pace through your apartment watching as each second ticks by on the clock. Time seemed to be moving slower than usual, which didn’t help with your anxious state. Then a knock sounded through the apartment. Slowly, you walk your way to the front door and open it. You hardly lift your head to make eye contact with him when he steps into the entrance of the apartment.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice full of concern.

“Y- yeah” you lie, “I’m great”

You offer him a fake smile when you finally meet his eyes. He’s giving you a look you know all too well, he can see right through your lie.

“Why are you lying? Aren’t you happy I’m home?” he worries.

“Home?”

He chuckles, “I go to stay with my parents for two weeks and suddenly this isn’t my home too?” he says in a teasing tone.

You feel slightly taken back, you had thought he was coming here to officially end things between you but it was quite the opposite. Seeing the smile spread across his face you can see that he was happy to be back. You couldn’t handle the emotions bubbling up inside you. Tears start rolling down your cheeks as you walk directly toward him. He opens his arms to hold you and let you cry as long as you need. His hand ran gently down your spine to help you calm down quicker.

“I-” you interrupt yourself with a hiccup, “I thought you were coming here to take your stuff and leave. I was so scared you were going to officially end things with us, you said you wanted space and that normally means that-”

He shushes you gently, “I still love you, I always will. We had recently been so in each other’s space that I wanted a little time to myself. That doesn’t mean I don’t love you. Hell, I love you a whole lot more than I could ever express in words.”

“I love you so much, Wonwoo” you confess once the tears had subsided.

“I love you too.” he smiles, placing a kiss on your head.

COPYRIGHT STARLITMARK 2023© ALL RIGHTS RESERVED — reposting/modifying any fic or piece of original writing posted on this blog is not allowed. Translations are not permitted. 

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[hanjisungs-bigtittyg0thgf]

Hatefuck

You’re fucking mine

wooyoung x fem reader

Trigger warnings: mentions of mental illness, physical violence is alluded to

Content warnings: manhandling, marking/biting, hair pulling, choking, names (baby doll, slut, my baby, kitten, baby girl, asshole directed at woo, princess, baby, poor baby, good girl), overstimulation, breeding kink, face sitting, cum eating, dacryphilia, reader begs, wooyoung is crazy possessive, gbf hongjoong almost gets mowed down, end is super soft and fluffy.

Word count: 7521

A/N: omg hi babes it feels like it’s been ages since i gave you anything but scraps. i’ve missed you guys :’( wow, this is the final part!! i can’t believe it! anyways, i’ve got some other stuff in the works and i will be uploading something new to my ko-fi soon (i also take commissions there)! anyways, as always, follow me here or on my main (and consider turning on those post notifications so you know when i update my page!) and send in those hard thoughts, i’m always down for new anons <3

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Smut below the cut

A/N pt2: hongjoong’s friendly smile is :] this is relevant after the cut okay i’ll leave you alone now byeeeeee

You ran the bath and stripped bare, dropping your clothes in the hamper. You’d had the sense to at least change out of what you’d worn to bed Monday night when you got the video and you were glad because if you hadn’t, Hongjoong would’ve automatically known something was terribly wrong. You decided to put some bubbles in too since you felt like shit and wanted to treat yourself. As if bubbles will dull this. You let out a snort as you sank down in the tub. “I just ordered dinner!” You heard Hongjoong call from the kitchen as you settled in, bubbles tickling your chin.

 You’d been in the tub for about twenty minutes when you heard the door. You didn’t hear any conversation so you thought maybe Hongjoong had asked the delivery driver to leave the order at the door. But then the bathroom door swung open. You scrambled to cover yourself with your hands even though the bubbles were already doing a fantastic job of obscuring your naked body. But then you saw who it was and you froze. “Wooyoung-”

————————————

“Y/N-” He breathed your name and froze for a moment before closing the door behind himself. You sat in stunned silence as he made himself at home before you frowned up at him. He opened his mouth to explain himself but you felt the urge to stop him. “Hongjoong told me what happened. I’m so fucking sorry-”

“Yeah, you fucking are. Get the fuck out.” Your raised voice dripped with venom.

“Y-Y/N…what-”

“I SAID GET THE FUCK OUT, WOOYOUNG! I DON’T WANT TO DO THIS RIGHT NOW!” You shouted, fighting the urge to swipe your collection of soaps and whatnot off the side of the tub to throw at his head. You thought you were prepared to see him again but you were wrong. You were still understandably upset by everything and seeing him standing in your home, interrupting your bath while you were trying to wash away the negativity that had been clinging to your body since the day he left you…it fucking hurt, to put it mildly.

You’d never seriously yelled at him and he was stunned. He hesitated for only a moment, his bottom lip trembling as he tried not to cry, before turning on his heel and rushing out of the room, the door slamming behind him. You fought not to burst into tears as he left, anger and hurt bubbling up inside you. You failed miserably. Hongjoong had yet to leave, so when all of this happened, he was standing in your kitchen. He was shocked. You’d sounded so desperate to prove your innocence and now you were screaming for your boyfriend to leave? “Wooyoung, wait-” He bypassed Hongjoong and stormed out your front door, leaving you sobbing in your tub while the older man stood slack-jawed in your kitchen.

He was going to fucking kill that bastard.

————————————

It had been four hours since the scene you’d made and Hongjoong had refused to leave until he was sure you were okay. He hadn’t thought twice before entering the bathroom, finding you curled up in a ball and crying your heart out. He had gingerly gathered you up in his arms and helped you out of the tub, wrapping a towel around you to preserve what little modesty you had left. He’d helped you to your room and had even dressed you when you simply sat on the edge of your bed with no intention of getting up anytime soon. So much for modesty. He really was one of your best friends. Every friend group had to have the gay best friend and that was him.

“Thank you for staying and taking care of me, Joongie.” You murmured from your place at the end of the sofa, where you were curled up. “I’m sorry you had to hear all that earlier.” You sighed, slowly sitting up before giving him a wry smile. “And for leaving snot on your shoulder. You really do put up with a lot from me.”

He could only laugh softly as he stood from the chair across the room. He was correct to assume you hadn’t wanted to be touched more than was necessary to get you dressed and settled on the couch, so he’d moved away as soon as you were comfortable. He made his way to sit by you and allowed you to lean into him when you felt comfortable. “I can’t say I understand why you kicked him out but I also can’t say I blame you. I’d be fucking pissed if my partner walked out without hearing me out only to come back a few days later and try to reconcile without allowing me time to prepare myself for that conversation.” You looked up at him and he let out a soft huff of laughter as he realized he’d just hit the nail on the head. “I guess I do understand.”

“I just don’t get why he wouldn’t reach out to me first. I mean, shit, he even gave me that courtesy when he came to apologize for fucking me dumb and dipping.” You shook your head and let out a soft sigh, sitting your head up from his shoulder and standing. If you kept on with that line of thought, you’d get upset again. “I’m gonna heat up that food you ordered earlier. Do you want any?”

He shook his head and stood with you. “No, that’s all yours. I’m gonna eat at home. Seonghwa made burgers tonight.” He hummed and you gave a soft nod as you walked with him to the door. “I’m a call away if you need me, okay?” You nodded again and he gave you a stern expression. “I mean it. Even if you don’t want to hear from him, you’re not allowed to cut me out again. If I don't get my usual good morning text I’m kicking your door in.”

You finally cracked a tiny smile and rolled your eyes at him. “Okay, okay, I get it. I’ll be sure to annoy you the usual amount. Get going before your food gets cold.” He nodded, offering a friendly smile, and opened the front door only to find himself chest-to-chest with a slightly-battered Wooyoung.

“Get the fuck out.” His voice was low and dangerous. Hongjoong’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped for at least the second time that day as Wooyoung’s harsh breathing blew right in his face. He looked between you and the disheveled man in the doorway before slowly backing away, both hands held up at chest level as if to surrender.

“I’m not even gonna ask what happened…” His voice was pitched higher than usual as he drug his words out. Wooyoung shoved past him and stalked towards you, your knees going weak at the sight of him. You weren’t sure if you were terrified or excited but you were feeling something as he grabbed the sides of your head and crashed his lips against yours, letting out a small whine of discomfort from the pressure against the split on his bottom lip. Hongjoong’s eyes only bugged out further when he saw this and he raised his eyebrows as he snapped his jaw shut, turning on his heel and leaving without another word. You two were so gonna fuck, he just knew it.

Your hands gently pressed against Wooyoung’s chest in a half-hearted attempt to get him to back away, much like the first night you had sex with him. He fought back, wrapping one arm around your waist and pulling you back into him every time you almost got away while the opposite hand held your jaw so you couldn’t look away. You were getting lightheaded from the kiss and your lungs were screaming for air by the time he finally backed away, his chest heaving as he too tried to catch his breath. You didn’t fight back too much when he backed you towards your sofa, a large part of you not wanting to stop despite your emotional turmoil. Your legs were too weak to make a break for it anyways.

He lifted you up and placed you on the back of the couch before slotting himself between your legs. You let out a soft squeal when you almost toppled over but his strong grip held you in place. You sat like that for a moment, staring up at him with wide eyes full of uncertainty and hurt. You were so, so tired. Everything that had happened over the last few days made you reconsider if you even wanted to be with him. He’d left so easily without stopping to hear what you had to say and you weren’t sure if you could be in a relationship where you couldn’t effectively communicate with your partner.

But it was Wooyoung, the man you were madly in love with. The man who had made his way into your heart against all odds. You were at war with yourself but your thoughts were interrupted when he brought his free hand up to your chin, once again leaving you unable to look away. “I don’t give a fuck what happened. I don’t give a fuck that he tried to split us up. I don’t give a fuck that you don’t want me here right now. You’re fucking mine, goddammit, and you’re not getting away from me so easily. Do you understand me, y/n?” Your breath hitched at his words and all you could do was nod dumbly as your eyes almost fluttered shut in anticipation of a rough kiss that never came. You were his.

This was all it took for him to let out a low groan- no, not a groan, a growl- as he scooped you up and hauled you off to your room. Your pulse spiked when he tossed you over his shoulder and you let out a surprised yelp when he dropped you on your bed despite knowing that’s where you were being dropped. Your cheeks went a soft pink under his intense gaze, feeling yourself catch fire everywhere his eyes looked.

To him, you were fucking stunning. You were laid out for him to take you, to exert total control over you, and all you could do was blush? Fuck he loved you. He took a moment to appreciate your form on the bed before him before reaching out and ripping your shirt off. Your jaw dropped at the display of strength, your entire body tensing up as you tried not to curl into yourself. Holy shit that was hot. You felt like you’d been doused in battery acid. You couldn’t dream of stifling the groan that slipped past your lips as he dove down, burying his face in your neck. Part of you wanted to be mad that he’d ripped your favorite tank top but that part of you quickly shut her damn mouth when he took a deep breath, taking in your scent before sinking his teeth into your flesh.

The moan you let out was pitiful and broken. You couldn’t help it. He’d been your boyfriend for eight months, he knew what made you tick. He knew how much you loved when he went feral. How much you loved when he got possessive. He knew. And he was damn sure going to capitalize on it tonight.

As much as you wanted to scream at him for walking away, as much as you wanted to get physically violent over his reaction, you couldn’t muster the strength to push him away. If you were honest with yourself, you’d missed him so much and you just wanted him to claim you as his again. That’s all you wanted to be; his. Once again, you were at war with yourself. You shouldn’t want someone who would willingly throw away the last year like it was nothing but here you were, craving the man who’d left you sobbing so hard you’d puked multiple times over the last few days. You just wanted him. That’s all that mattered. Being his and him being yours. Belonging together.

You were once again snatched from your thoughts when he released his bite on your neck and laved his tongue over the bruise that was already forming. You shuddered at the sensation and finally reached a hand up into his hair when he started to pull back. You guided him back towards your neck, begging for him to mark you over and over until it was clear who you belonged to. “Please…” your voice was a whisper, your plea almost going unnoticed.

He tangled a large hand in your hair and tipped your head back as he obliged, raking his teeth over your skin. You bit your lip as he trailed bites and licks along your neck, trying to stifle your sounds so you could hear his. He didn’t like that you were trying to be quiet though and he tightened his grip on your hair, giving a tug. The whimper you let out went straight to his dick and he found himself fighting to stay composed.

You could tell he was struggling and if you were being honest with yourself, you didn’t want him to stay grounded. You wanted him to go insane and fuck you dumb, to fuck you so hard all you could remember was his name and how good he was to you. “W-Woo- please…” you whined, knowing he’d always struggled to refuse you anything when you begged in that tone.

You were disappointed when he didn’t move to give you any sort of relief but you were quickly pacified by his rutting against you. You were in cotton pajama pants, you could feel everything. He moved unbearably slowly, knowing you wanted more. He wouldn’t give you anything until he felt like it though so he continued to grind on you, the layers of clothing between the two of you beginning to frustrate you. You just wanted him to fuck you already, dammit!

You let out a pitiful sound of distress when he pulled away and he let out a scoff. “So fucking needy…” he shook his head as he stood from the bed, his fingers hooking in your waistband. Was he finally going to fuck you? “It’s a shame you’re being punished. Shouldn’t have thrown such a fit earlier, baby doll.” Instead of removing what was left of your clothes, he pulled away entirely and went to your closet, in search of the box of sex toys he knew you kept there.

You sat up, watching him walk away from you as you bit back a smartass response. You were puzzled as he opened the closet door and began to rummage through your things. You crossed your arms over your bare chest, shivering at the cool air that surrounded you. “Woo, what are you-“

“Show me the receipts.” He sounded bored.

“Huh?” He went still at your question.

“I said show me the receipts.” He was louder and more firm this time. He was really doing this? Now? He could look at the receipts any time but he was doubting you and wanting to look at them now? When he was just about to wreck you?

“I thought you believed me.” You crossed one leg over the other as you glared at his back. “You came running so fast after Hongjoong told you what I’d tried to tell you when you walked out on me. You came back looking crazed and got me in bed too. But you don’t believe me?” You scoffed in disbelief and shook your head, anger bubbling up inside you and threatening to explode.

“Am I not allowed to want proof?”

“Do you seriously need proof that I wouldn’t fucking cheat on you, Wooyoung?” You were fighting hard not to yell. He went quiet for a moment and you heard him let out a sigh. He almost sounded like a grumpy toddler huffing about not getting his way and you couldn’t contain yourself anymore. “You went on about how you’d been nothing but good to me since we started working things out and how you’d worked so hard to build a relationship with me but what about me? Do you think I didn’t? Do you really think I didn’t put in effort after all that? Do you think I’d throw away all the progress we made just to go fuck some worthless piece of shit behind your back? You really think so little of me?” You shook your head as you pushed your tongue into your jaw, trying to calm yourself a bit as you shifted and put your feet back on the floor. Your eyes were beginning to sting from the tears you were suppressing. “If that’s what you think of me then why’d you come back?”

Your quiet voice sounded broken and it pierced his heart. He could tell you were close to tears. But your words also lit a fire under his skin again and he felt like he was about to go into a jealous rage. In the end, he couldn’t answer any of your questions except for the last one. “Because you’re fucking mine.” He growled, turning to face you. Something about his expression was fucking terrifying in a strangely sexy way and you couldn’t stop the gasp you let out as he once again stalked towards you.

He grabbed you by the throat and pushed you back on the bed as he kicked your feet apart, pinning you there as he fought the urge to ruin you on the spot. He needed to be patient. He wanted to reduce you to tears before he gave you anything you wanted. “I already told you, y/n. I own you. You’re mine.” His grip tightened as he gritted his teeth and your eyes rolled back as your lips parted in a silent moan. This was about to be the most toxic sex of your life, you just knew it. “Look at you.” He let out a mocking laugh as you wrapped your hands around his forearm, urging him to keep going. “You’re lying here begging me to keep choking you when I could easily fly off the handle. You know you’re mine. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t trust me like this.”

You gently tugged his arm and he let up a bit, allowing blood flow to return and giving you a head rush. You knew he wouldn’t intentionally physically harm you. Maybe you did trust him too much. Any sane person would be terrified right now. But it was Wooyoung. He literally couldn’t hurt you even if he wanted to. You released your grip on his arm and clawed at his shirt, grabbing a fistful of material and yanking him towards you. “You say I’m yours. Prove it.” You spat.

His lips met yours in a blistering kiss as his hands began to wander all over your body, another pained noise slipping past his lips. Just what had he done? You didn’t have time to think about it before the hand that had been around your throat was stuffed in your panties. He ran a long finger along your folds, gathering up your arousal as he bit down on your lip and gave a tug. He let you breathe much sooner this time and gave an ornery smirk as he slipped his middle finger into you. “You’re soaked. You fucking love it when I get rough with you, don’t you?” You nodded but he shook his head, still toying with your pussy. “You should know by now that good girls use their words. Try again, slut.”

“Woo…” you whimpered, embarrassed by how worked up you were. You’d explored some kinks with him but you still hated having to admit when he turned you on. You hated using your words. But what you hated even more was when he stopped, which he’d just done. You finally gave in and admitted to him that you loved when he was rough with you. You begged him to carry on but he refused. “Woo, please- please don’t stop..”

He ignored your protests and removed his hand from your pants, bringing his coated fingers up to his mouth as he righted himself between your legs. He made a show of licking them clean, knowing you’d get jealous. You fucking loved sucking on his fingers and he knew as much. “My baby tastes so fucking good…” He groaned as he brought his hand away from his mouth and began to shed his own clothes. Your mouth watered at the sight of him even before he was done stripping, taking in every detail as if it was the last time you’d ever see him. “Like what you see, kitten?”

“You know I hate that name…” You mumbled, shifting your gaze away from his body and fighting the urge to cross your arms like a petulant child. You didn’t want to answer him.

“Stop being fucking stubborn, y/n.” His voice was stern and sent a jolt straight to your pussy. “When I ask a question, you give an honest answer. Got it?” You nodded reluctantly and he let out a sigh. “I’ll give you one more chance to use your words. I won’t be reminding you again.”

“Yes, I understand, Wooyoung…” You mumbled, not wanting to answer his original question but not wanting to start a fight you couldn’t win. It was taking everything in him not to force you to your knees and fuck your face. He wanted you so fucking bad.

He stared at you with an unreadable expression that sent a chill down your spine before he finally reached for you. You didn’t move a muscle until he urged you to lift your hips so he could remove what was left of your clothes. He kicked off his own pants a moment later and gave his cock a few strokes as his eyes wandered over your body, eventually locking on your pussy. “So fucking pretty…who is all this for, baby girl?” His eyes flicked to your face, which was now beet red from being under his scrutiny. He wanted an answer.

“All yours…” you whispered, trying to wrap your legs around him to pull him in close. He didn’t let you move him, giving your outer thigh a slap as he murmured something about being patient. You whimpered and gave him a pout, silently begging him to finally touch you. It was dizzying to him how quickly you were volleying between shy and demanding; pliant and bratty.

“Tell me what you want.” He began to knead at your thighs. “No guarantees I’ll give it to you though.” He gave a sickly sweet smile which was clearly forced as he waited.

“I want you to make it clear to everyone what I mean to you. I want to feel it for at least the next week. I want to walk into my bathroom and see your marks everywhere when I look in the mirror.” You paused and pulled him down so you were face to face despite how he tried to stay upright. “Break my bed, not my heart, asshole.”

He didn’t waste another moment. As soon as your words left your mouth, he was sheathed inside you, eliciting the most pitiful sound you’d ever made. “Let the whole neighborhood hear my name then, princess.” He groaned as he righted himself and set a brutal pace.

You let out a series of pathetic moans and whimpers as he reduced you to nothing more than a begging mess. It reminded you so much of the first time, except this time he was actively laying claim to you and making it clear you were his as opposed to just getting all that tension out of his system. This time, despite his anger and jealousy, you could see emotion behind his eyes. You couldn’t quite place what that emotion was, but you could see it and it made you giddy.

Your back arched off the bed and you let out a squeal of delight when he pressed your knees up towards your chest, allowing him a better angle to brush against your g-spot. You were already losing your ability to form coherent sentences so you didn’t attempt to tell him how good it felt. He could already tell anyways.

He wasn’t faring much better, his jaw slack as he slammed into you and chased his own high. He looked stunning from where you laid, his head occasionally tipping back and allowing full view of his stunning jawline. You wanted to trail hickeys along his skin and it was taking everything in you not to yank him down towards you again so you could do just that. Every time his head lolled forwards and he made eye contact with you, arousal doused your body, drawing a moan from him as you involuntarily clenched each time. You were the reason he already looked so fucked out and you felt powerful. You could only imagine what a mess you appeared to be.

You could feel your orgasm already approaching and it seemed he could as well. You weren’t thrilled by him releasing your legs and losing that angle but your breath hitched when he gripped your jaw yet again, leaning over you and pinning your hands above your head with his free hand. “You’re going to look me in the eye while you cum.” His voice was a growl and you could only nod as he allowed the hand that held your jaw to trail down the center of your body, flames erupting under your skin in the wake of his fingertips. Fuck you loved when he talked like that, when his voice dipped low like that. It was predatorial and you were nothing more than his prey.

You strained against the way your hands were pinned and leaned up, attaching your lips to his throat with a high-pitched moan. He would’ve pushed you back down on the bed had he not been craving your touch for the last week in spite of his hurt. He didn’t try to fight it though. Not only did it feel good to be marked as yours, but he was also focused at the moment. He was focused on the way his middle finger drew tight circles over your clit.

His breathing was ragged and his thrusts were growing sloppy as his orgasm approached. His breath fanned against your skin and sent chills down your spine. You were dangerously close to the edge at this point and you quickly released his neck, pulling back to meet his gaze. You wanted to be good for him and he’d told you to look him in the eye. Except he wasn’t looking at your face. His eyes were locked on where you were impaled on his cock, watching himself disappear into you. “W- fuck- Woo, ‘m gonna cum-” you choked out, wriggling your wrists in his grasp. God you wanted to touch him.

“Hold still.” His tone was stern as he finally lifted his gaze from your pussy. When your eyes met his, you couldn’t bring yourself to try and argue anymore. You just stared up at him with half-lidded eyes as you teetered on the edge of ecstasy, waiting for instruction or praise - at this point you didn’t care which. He didn’t give either, simply held steady in his pace as he maintained eye contact. “Whose are you, baby? Who owns this perfect pussy?” He moaned out, his voice far higher than he would’ve liked.

It didn’t matter to you that he sounded so needy. You were fucking gone. You babbled on about how you belonged to him, how he was the only one you wanted. That was the last straw for him and he came inside you, filling you to the brim with his release. You wanted to cry out of desperation, feeling so high-strung that you could cum on command even if he wasn’t fucking you senseless. And that’s exactly what you did. “Cum for me, baby. You’ve been so good, you’ve earned it.”

At his words, you let go. Your back arched off the bed as white-hot pleasure filled your body. You let out a moan that bordered on a scream as your body twitched beneath him, your eyes almost slipping shut. You couldn’t let them close. You had to be a good girl and look at him like he wanted.

He didn’t stop hammering into you, didn’t stop toying with your clit until he was certain you were done. Only then, when all you were left with was aftershocks, did his hips still. Everything was still for a moment. He stared down at you, every known emotion showing on his face at once. You wanted to speak but no words would come.

Without warning, he allowed himself to fall into you, his hand releasing both of yours from their position above your head and urging your arms around his neck as he crashed his lips to yours with yet another whimper of pain. You eagerly obliged, tangling your hands in his hair and giving a soft tug as you wiggled your hips a bit. As if in retaliation, he snapped his hips forward and slammed into you. You let out a soft cry into the kiss and he did it again. This was definitely retaliation.

He began trailing love bites down your neck as he carried on, giving slow, powerful thrusts. Each snap of his hips drove you further up the bed and elicited a cry, each one louder than the last. “W-Woo- please…” You felt tears gathering in your eyes but he didn’t acknowledge your call. He just wanted to keep hearing you.

Something in him was fit to break. He was about to lose himself in the insatiable need to claim you as his over and over until all you knew was him, until all you could do was repeatedly cry out his name like a prayer. You were his and he was yours and he needed everyone to know.

Neither of you were sure exactly when he’d started chanting “mine” but he was repeating it with each thrust, growling out his claim on you as he fucked his aching cock into you. The tears welling up in your eyes finally began to roll down the sides of your face as he overstimulated you. You wanted him to give you a break but you needed to cum again; needed to be filled by him again.

Finally, you let out a sob as your body writhed beneath him and you tightened your grip on his hair. Each thrust drew a pathetic sound from you and you felt like your whole body was on fire as your second orgasm approached. His declarations of ownership were coming out as low grunts now and you couldn’t take anymore. “Yes! Yes, Wooyoung, ‘m yours- all yours. Please don’t stop-“ you sobbed, desperate to feel release.

He was losing control of himself in that moment. He too was a bit overstimulated but he was driven by your sobs of pleasure and the profound need to breed you, to fuck you full of his cum. Your words did nothing to ease that desire and he found himself mumbling against your jaw. “All mine. Gonna stuff you full of my cum and put a baby in you. Then everyone will know you’re mine.”

You’d never considered settling down and having a family. It was never important to you. But fuck if he kept talking like that, he just might convince you.

You couldn’t think about anything but the desire to be filled by him at the moment and your sobs grew more desperate as he lost his rhythm yet again. You weren’t sure when you’d started begging but you were crying out for him to let you cum and for him to cum inside you. He did exactly that, pumping you full of his seed as he nipped at your jaw. “Cum.” He growled out, his voice sending a thrill down your body.

You gave him what he wanted and let go. Your body was convulsing with pleasure as his hips slowed and each time you tightened around him, he let out a pathetic moan. He tucked his face into your neck like before but this time he didn’t attempt to mark you again - much to your dismay. He held you like that as you came down from your second high and flipped over once the aftershocks had subsided.

You pulled back from his embrace, sighing at the way he filled you as you sank further onto him. His hands rested on your hips, his fingers drawing tiny circles there. It was eerily calm and quiet as the two of you looked at each other. Finally, he urged you to lift your hips and you did so begrudgingly, internally lamenting the loss of that full sensation. Some of his cum began to leak out of you and you whimpered softly, still somewhat dazed and worried about wasting what he gave you.

“Aww, poor baby’s a mess.” He cooed mockingly and you sucked your bottom lip between your teeth. “Let me clean you up.” You nodded despite your trepidation. His tone was strange but you couldn’t place what exactly it was. Then he revealed what he was getting at. “Sit on my face.”

“Woo-”

“You can either be a good girl and do as I say or you can say goodbye to any ounce of freedom. I’ll tie you up and fuck you dumb all night. Your choice.”

You were stunned into silence at this. While you were tempted to stay put so he’d tie you to the bed and breed you over and over again, you desperately wanted to be good for him. Without a word, you slowly moved up the bed. You were hesitant to sit on his face, worried you might hurt him, but he didn’t care. All he saw was compliance.

“Good girl.” He praised as he helped you situate yourself before looping his arms around your thighs, his hands resting on your hips. You allowed him to move you how he pleased and your breath hitched when he tried to pull you down against him. Your hesitance kept you from sinking down fully though and he was getting frustrated. “Will you relax? You’re not gonna hurt me.”

You looked down only to find him staring up at you, not blinking as he waited for some sort of acknowledgement. “But your lip…”

“It’s fine. Sit on my fucking face.” He snapped, once again pulling at your hips. This time, you let him have his way and sank down as he opened his mouth. His tongue flattened against you and you gasped softly. You still held some of your weight up so he could pull back if he needed to but he was currently focused on your pussy.

He let out a groan of appreciation when he tasted his cum mingled with yours, his grip on your hips tightening. You were certain you’d have bruises in the shape of his fingers by morning. You couldn’t be bothered to care though. Not when his tongue was flicking over your hypersensitive clit. He was going to make sure you cried for him again before the night was out.

He pulled back for air only briefly before diving back into your pussy, his tongue plunging inside you. He became more frenzied, lapping his cum out of your messy cunt as he let out low growls and moans. He looked up at you from his place between your legs, his eyes begging for something.

Your legs were slowly giving out and soon you had his head pinned to the bed. He couldn’t have been happier in that moment. His eyes slipped shut as he lost himself in you, guiding your hips in a rolling motion despite the protest of your thighs. His nose bumped against your clit as he urged you to ride his tongue and you shuddered, fire licking at your skin. His grip on you was impossibly tight as he pulled you even closer. Was that possible?

You didn’t have the ability to follow that train of thought, too caught up in the way he ate you out. You were fighting to hold back, desperate to continue feeling his tongue. You didn’t want to cum yet but he was skilled with his tongue and he knew exactly how to make you see stars.

His current goal was to lap all his cum out of you and make you beg for mercy. And he always got what he wanted. Always.

The fire under your skin was becoming unbearable as his hands guided you on. You were about to break and he knew it. He was taking pleasure in wearing you down. When you finally snapped and let go, he didn’t let you up. He refused to let you move away from his face as he drank up your release, lewd slurping sounds mingled with his own grunts of satisfaction filling the room as you bit back a sob.

You tried to lift yourself from his face but he only tightened his grip, his arms looping tighter around your thighs. Tears gathered in your eyes as you squirmed, trying to get away from him, but every time you almost wrenched yourself free of his grasp, he dragged you back down. You looked down at him with watery eyes and found him staring up at you with a challenging glare, daring you to keep fighting as he huffed and puffed against you.

You instantly felt all the fight leave your body and you slumped against him, the tears that had gathered now running down your cheeks. “Woo, please-” You whimpered, every inch of your body burning as you begged for mercy. He didn’t let up though. He wanted you to scream. His burning glare was getting to you as he repeatedly flicked his tongue, trying to work you up to a fourth orgasm.

That’s when you broke down. “Woo, I can’t- please- can’t take anymore-” You babbled as you felt yourself tipping towards the headboard. You had no strength left in your body and needed to brace yourself against a hard surface.

Finally, he decided to take pity on you and released his hold on you. He didn’t stop rolling his tongue against your hypersensitive cunt but his hands moved away from you. It was up to you to move away from him. You lifted yourself up on shaky legs and allowed yourself to collapse beside him, panting and wiping your cheeks.

As you gathered yourself, he stood from the bed. You didn’t want him to move. What if he left again? You made one of the most distressed sounds of your life and started to scramble to your feet after him but he turned and gently pushed you back. “It’s okay, baby. I’m not leaving. I’m just going to get a washcloth to clean us up.” Us? That’s when you noticed he’d cum across his toned stomach while forcing you to sit on his face.

You nodded and laid back down under his instruction, watching as he padded to the en suite bathroom. Part of you was upset that you’d yielded to him so easily but a much larger part of you was just happy to have him near you again. The last week had been the worst of your life and you wanted things to go back to normal.

“Up in the clouds?” He teased quietly as he came back and perched on the edge of the bed. You shook your thoughts away and watched as he brought the warm cloth to your abused pussy. You shuddered at his touch, far too sensitive for any sort of contact at the moment. He finished cleaning you up and took the soiled fabric back to the bathroom to drop it in the hamper before rejoining you in bed, laying face to face with you.

“I’m sorry.”

“What did you do?” You both spoke at the same time and he grew sheepish as you brought a hand to his face, your thumb gently brushing over his bottom lip. You were careful to avoid the split before turning your attention to his eyes. “What happened?”

“He hurt you.” His voice was barely above a whisper as he brought a hand to your wrist, gently guiding your hand away from his face. He laced his fingers with yours as he trapped your intertwined hands between your bodies, pausing to kiss your knuckles. That’s when you noticed how battered his hands looked. “I took care of things. He won’t dare try bothering you again.”

“Wait, you didn’t k-”

“No, of course not. I’m not trying to catch a case. I just defended you.” He assured you and you nodded slowly, tucking your head under his chin when he pulled you in close. “I’m so sorry, y/n. I should’ve waited and heard you out. I was an idiot and automatically assumed the worst.”

“You hurt me.” He seemed to deflate at your words but you wrapped your arms around him and gave him a squeeze. “The blackmail was what had me upset in the first place when you came over to take care of me. I was afraid to tell you about it but when you came back with that look on your face…I wanted to explain but you left so fast.”

He opened his mouth to respond but you stopped him. “I spent the whole week hoping you’d come hear me out but you had me blocked. I couldn’t even tell you that I lost the internship.” He mumbled out a soft apology and you shook your head. “Part of me wants to stay mad and kick and scream over it all but part of me is just too tired for that. We’ve had enough drama, don’t you think?” You pulled back to glance up at him and he looked terrified. “Promise me we can talk things out and not jump to conclusions when we have trouble?”

“Of course.” He agreed instantly and placed a hand on your cheek, allowing his thumb to dance over your cheekbone. “Promise me we can go back to how things were?”

“I don’t know if that’s possible, Woo.” He let out a soft sigh and you turned to kiss his palm. “But we can damn sure try.”

————————————

“Good morning, baby.” He cooed as you joined him in the kitchen and slid your arms around his bare waist. You gave a sleepy hum and pressed a kiss between his shoulder blades. “Did you take your meds?” You smiled softly at his question. Ever since he learned about your mental health issues, he always made sure to ask if you’d taken your medicine for the day. He started doing it when he saw you in class at first but then it turned into him texting you in the mornings and eventually asking you over breakfast.

 “I haven’t yet. I will after breakfast. I wanna stay with you for now.” You mumbled, resting your forehead where you’d just kissed.

 It had been seven months since Wooyoung had beat the shit out of your ex and forced his way into your apartment to demand you take him back. You were initially surprised that your ex hadn’t pressed charges against Wooyoung but then you remembered he had a history with the cops and likely had an outstanding warrant.

 You’d decided a fresh start was in order when Wooyoung brought up moving in together again so five months ago the two of you had signed a lease on a cute condo only a few minutes away from the university and he’d started making you breakfast every morning. You hadn’t gotten your internship back but you had just managed to land something even better two months ago. Everything was finally perfect again. Wooyoung was perfect, your friendship with the others was perfect, your house, your job…all of it was perfect and you couldn’t be happier.

 “Mm okay but I want you to do that while I set the table in a little while.” You nodded and gave him a gentle squeeze. It felt nice getting back to normal. It felt even better waking up in his arms every morning.

 Breakfast seemed to fly by, both of you chattering on about your plans for the day. You got ready for the day side by side in the bathroom - you’d lucked out finding a bathroom with two sinks - and you were sending him off, still not quite done with your makeup, when he said the words that never failed to make your heart leap into your throat. “I’ll see you tonight, baby. I love you.” He hummed and gently pecked your lips before heading out the door.

 If you were certain of anything in life, it's that he was the one.

[perditionanddiatribes]

idk if i’m supposed to make a new one or not but OuO this is fun. i only use mobile so this might look a bit different.

LAST SONG: Honeybee by The Head and The Heart

FAVORITE COLOR: I don’t actually have one but i like pink a lot.

CURRENTLY WATCHING: I just keep slapping documentaries on while i read fanfic so i have background music, but the last thing i actively watched was Criminal Minds

LAST MOVIE: dawg i don’t even know. i THINK it was american hustle way back in like june at a dates house but i cant truly remember. i don’t watch movies.

SWEET/SPICY/SAVORY: spicy and savory 🥰🥰 i love them

RELATIONSHIP STATUS: single and just straight chillin.

CURRENT OBSESSIONS: you know i got that tism. supernatural, teen wolf, SPECIFICALLY dean winchester, SPECIFICALLY stiles stilinski, bbc merlin, reading fanfic, my new kitten castiel.

LAST THING YOU GOOGLED: listen i had to do a fucking dylan o’brien twink death crash course for two of my best friends because they’d never seen teen wolf or had any idea who dylan was. saur. TECHNICALLY TWO THINGS “dylan o’brien stiles stilinski” followed by “dylan o’brien 2023”. and brother i was Not disappointed.

tagging @http-lovelyknow @dwcoded @heller-castiel @regret-breathing just because you’re some of my favorite mutuals. no pressure <3

thank you for the tag bestie cody @deancodedinthewater <3 this is gonna get 2014 cringey because. well.

LAST SONG: afton family the story

FAVOURITE COLOUR: currently hunter green and angel blue

CURRENTLY WATCHING: wwdits, only murders in the building and bbc sherlock (💀)

LAST MOVIE: five nights at freddy's (in theatre)

SWEET/SPICY/SAVOURY: all three :)

RELATIONSHIP STATUS: long term relationship

CURRENT OBSESSIONS: spn, dw, wwdits, ofmd, fnaf and knitting/crochet drama

LAST THING YOU GOOGLED: ice flavoured ice cream how to

tagging @magdaclaire @e-mio @realmandolin @perditionanddiatribes @kerryweaverlesbian and anyone else that wants to join <3 (no pressure!!)

[just-another-author-i-guess]

The unholy

Also posted on my wattpad account; diontanysus

Warnings: she/her pronounced reader, I think I accidentally gave Jungkook a choking kink ups, needles and stuff, don’t read if you don’t like needles, more making out, everyone’s still horny idk what to tell you, y/n is bi bc I make the rules, dry humping? Almost prison sex?? Also I did not edit it through bc I’m tired

Pairing: bts ot7 x reader, nun! reader, princess! reader, vampire! Jin x reader, hybrid! Namjoon x reader, hybrid! Yoongi x reader, vampire! Hoseok x reader, vampire! Jimin x reader, hybrid! Taehyung x reader, hybrid! Jungkook x reader

Parts: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 -

Author’s note: tw/mental health stuff: so after a long ass break (what has it been? Almost two years?) I sincerely apologize for not being active at all. My mental health has just continued to go downhill during the pandemic (I hope all of you are healthy and well!) but lately I’ve been gaining some motivation to write back. My mental illness has made me unable to actually enjoy any of my old hobbies so finally starting to enjoy writing again feels amazing. However, I’m really sorry to say that this series probably won’t be continued for that much longer bc tbh I have no idea where I’m going with it. I’ll try to update when I can, but don’t expect much haha. High school is extremely draining rn, I have sm homework I need to do. Also sorry for the short chapter- this has been in my drafts for like 2 years and I finally decided to finish it. Also I feel like I should apologize for not answering my dm’s. So to everyone who has sent me something I’ll start to look at it now that I’m back, I’m really sorry for the long waiting time <3 anyways, here’s the chapter I’ve been owing you guys for like forever. I hope you enjoy! (:

(Updates; very unreliable, I’ll try to write more when I have time!)

Taglist:

(please let me know if you want to be tagged!)

(i’m so sorry if I missed someone, it’s been such a long time since I’ve last updated this)

(Hi again I’m super sorry if I tagged someone twice, once again it’s been ages since I’ve done this so it’s a bit messy)

@joonsroses @boononx @i-am-supermerwholoked221b @karissassirak @bvblackarmy @queenbianca-7 @someslightobsessions @d-noona @oii-f-eli-x @dapppphhhhh @heranimesupermanopera @jkoojeon @iloverubberduckiez-blog @btsenchanting @tryintolive33 @multifandomgirl29 @kpopfictrash @serious-addiction @http-lovelyknow @hazeljrz @hauntedpeesha @heranimesupermanopera @manjirodni @softieforeveryone @creativecookiecrumb

The intensity in Jeongguk’s kiss was unreal, it was almost like he could swallow you whole through it. His hands had snaked out through the bars, wrapping around your smaller body and pulling you flush against them.

Strangely, Jeongguk was not cold like the rest of them, he seemed so warm and inviting, you couldn’t help but blindly obligate when he gently squeezed around your throat, positioning it how he wanted it.

Before long, his mouth started to slip from your mouth, parting with a sigh as he kissed down your cheek and neck, licking stripes as he went along.

When he found the spot he wanted, his grip around you neck tightened, cutting off enough air to have you slightly panting in his ear, as he began to encircle the spot with his tongue before sucking purple and blue bruises into your skin.

You couldn’t help but let out a small, shaky moan at the sensations Jeongguk’s mouth created on your skin, and it wasn’t long before you were desperately gripping his collar trying to pull him even closer, cursing the cool bars between you.

Jeongguk adjusted your head, a little more rough this time, his patience was running out and by now you could feel the two sharp fangs poking at your skin.

With a low whine, you turned your neck, blotting it even more for him, and you felt chills run through you as he deeply moaned into you neck.

“Shit,” he groaned, when your scent hit him, even stronger than before.

Without warning, he let his fangs sink into your skin, enjoying the small noises you made, as his one hand came down to grip at you hips, pressing them up against his own.

Blood flowed from your new wounds, painting his mouth, your clothes and your dress with crimson, as you felt him gulp it down, gripping you harder and harder with each gulp, as he began slowly rutting his hips forward and into yours.

The friction, made a shaky whine slip out of your lips, as he pressed you harder against the bars, thrusting harder forward as he drank, until his thrusts had become so violent that the whole cage he was trapped in began to rock along.

You felt his bulge grow harder and much larger than you would expect, as you felt yourself simultaneously grow hotter and fog began to clout your mind, as more and more blood left your body.

Your eyes slipped close, the warm feelings consuming you, as your lower half did it’s best to keep up with Jeongguk’s almost animalistic thrusts, when suddenly in the midsts of your euphoria the sound of a door being ripped open caught you ears, and Jeongguk tore his mouth from your neck, your body falling forwards and slumping against the bars.

“Jeongguk! Jeongguk, I swear if you just as much as touched her I will rip your fangs out a shove them up your ass-“ the gruff voice was cut off, as the person behind it came to a stop.

“Y-Yoongi hyung,” Jeongguk rasped, clutching your body, as you fought to stay awake just a little longer, blood leaking from your fresh bite wound in violent streams.

You were ripped from the warmth that was Jeongguk, colliding with a stone hard, cold chest. Even in your weak state, you struggled to get out of his grip, how his fingers tightened around your arms when the smell of blood and arousal hit his nose. His fingers were slender and his nails dug into your skin, carving out flesh and leaving moon-shaped nail prints behind.

He was cold and almost repellent, but he was still the one thing keeping you from tumbling to the floor, even when your legs gave out and you were just hanging loosely in his grip.

Once again your body had become that of a ragdoll, as your thought process slowed and you had to blink a couple of times to clear your head and vision, for the cloudiness creeping in the corners of it.

“As soon as we leave you alone! Unbelievable! Jin-hyung is gonna have a fucking aneurysm because of you!”

Jeongguk’s head bowed down, seemingly in false shame as his elder scolded him, becoming increasingly more worried as the situation got more time to sink in.

You know you should have been ashamed as well, throwing yourself at a man you barely met a couple hours ago, but still the only feeling you were able to dig up was annoyance.

Who was he, to stand there and scold Jeongguk? Acting so self righteous, like he wouldn’t do the same if he had the chance. It made you want to roll your eyes, like some spoiled teenager.

You noticed a chance in Yoongi’s grip, when he started to turn around, hoisting you up by holding you underneath your arms and legs, and even if you didn’t want to be picked up, you knew better than to struggle more in the cold vampires grip.

A chill shot through you, the feeling of being completely surrounded by his cold aura so much more different than the warm, almost sweet fragrance that Jeongguk carried around.

You looked back over his shoulder, as he started to walk, catching a glimpse of Jeongguk standing still pressed up against the cage. His head was hanging low, as if he was affected by the scolding, but his lips bore a smirk proving that he wasn’t. He was satiated. For now.

Your eyes locked with his, just as Yoongi slammed the door shut with the back of his foot, and continued up the stairs, carelessly holding you like you were a pillow, or something meant to toss around.

“I can walk,” Your mouth moved on it’s own accord, but you meant the words nonetheless.

To your surprise, Yoongi let out a snort. Apparently, your words were the funniest thing he had heard all day.

“The second I let you down, you’re gonna run right back down in that cellar,” he spoke calmly, but he had a way of pronouncing every word that made it clear he was angry with you still.

You furrowed your brows, angrily kicking your legs in the air, demanding to be let down.

“How could you possibly know that?” You huffed, as you struggled in his grip.

The corners of his mouth moved up, just the slightest, but enough for you to notice and question what exactly he found so funny about this whole situation.

He stopped walking, suddenly, making your head bump against his chest rather harshly.

“You have no idea how stupid you sound, do you?”

“What do you mean-“ your traitorous mouth, spoke up again, ignoring the fact that it was the sole reason you were landed in this mess to behind with.

He shot you a sharp glare, forcing you to stop mid sentence, as you looked up at him, expecting some kind of scolding, like the one he’d given Jeongguk.

“You have no idea how dangerous that situation was, stop thinking I just ruined your little romantic moment when I saved your life. If it weren’t for my interference, your head would be rolling around on the floor right now. Is that what you want, huh?”

Even though your mind actively fought against his words, you knew they were right.

What were you thinking?

If it weren’t for Jeongguk, and his stupidly enchanting voice you would never normally have gotten yourself into a situation like that. These creatures were so powerful, and yet you acted so carelessly around them.

“Are you going to stop fighting me now?” His voice was back to the tired, monotone state you had heard him speak in before.

It took you a minute or so, but finally you nodded and Yoongi let out a sigh, satisfied with his own doing.

He carried you through the halls of the castle, for what felt like forever. Your head lolled back into his chest as you let yourself relax, just taking in the magnificent interior of their home.

He finally stopped, when he was just outside the room you’d first met Jeongguk. Without lifting a single finger from you, he concentrated deeply on a little mark on the door. It looked to be scratched into the wood, probably by a knife, but the details in it was what really caught your attention.

It glowed a faint purple, letting you see all the small  intricate designs that adored it. You were surprised something so small could have so much detail, it would take someone with expert eyes to carve it. But then again, all the house residents seemed to inhabit some sort of magic. Their eyes probably worked a thousand times better than yours.

Suddenly the door flung open, making you jump a little in Yoongi’s grip. You looked up at him startled, noticing how his eyes glowed the same faint purple. You blinked to make sure what you saw was true, but as soon as your eyes opened again, the purple was gone and his irises was back to the same warm brown they had always been.

You looked at him intently, as he stepped into the room. You knew he could feel you looking at him but chose to ignore it, he probably knew you saw his eyes change color too. You wanted to ask into it more than anything, but your mouth was dry and you couldn’t find the right words. You opened your mouth to speak, but closed it again and decided to let the case rest until later.

You heard the door slam shut behind him as he gently dumped you on a hospital bed, standing in a corner of the room.

“And why exactly am I here?” You scoffed. “Am I going to take part in another messed up experiment?”

Yoongi shook his head. “Stop talking. It’s annoying.” He said, back turned to you as he fumbled with some glasses on a small table with wheels.

“Aw, Yoongi-hyung! Don’t be such a bore, tell this lovely little thing why she’s here. She’s just dying to know,” a voice came from behind you, you shrieked and swiftly turned around to face whoever was hiding in the shadows, almost falling off the side of the hospital bed in the process.

Yoongi hummed, still not turning around. “Oh. When did you get back, Jiminnie?” He said, trying to conceal how funny he found your scared shriek.

The so called Jiminnie, stepped out of the shadows, finally allowing you to see him in the industrial lights that was hanging in the ceiling.

Your mouth opened. He was absolutely gorgeous, they all were, but this one had an entirely new aura to him. His features were sharp, and slightly feline-like. He held his head high, making it seem like he was the most important person in the room (and he probably was) but also allowing you a good view of his sharp jawline. A jawline you could cut yourself on, you were sure. His hair, was what puzzled you the most. It fell just over his eyes, grazing his high cheekbones. It was longer in the front and shorter in the back, looking soft to the touch. If he shook his head, maybe you would be able to smell the hair rinse he used. But it was blonde l, unnaturally so. You could just barely see his dark roots. Never had you heard of extracting color from ones hair, not without magic at least. A flush rose to your cheeks, when you realized he must have been a very trained magician.

“Precisely an hour ago. The Darklands were nice, but when I heard about all the ruckus Jin-hyung had started I needed to see it for myself,” He stepped closer to you, you scooted back but he was quicker. With inhuman speed he grabbed your chin between his pointer and thumb, holding it with just enough force to let you know not to move.

He examined you closely, you stared back at him like a deer caught in headlights, taking mental notice of the blue and golden rings that swirled around inside his otherwise brown eyes. “He sure has taste, the old man. She’s pretty, but did she really cause such a big fuss? I can’t imagine something so fragile.. so cute, could do any harm? Hm?”

He looked at you as he spoke, but his words were directed at Yoongi. You furrowed your eyebrows, not quite fond of the way he treated you like some sort of animal.

You put your hand on his, noticing how it was cold like Yoongi’s. “Who even are you?” You said, eyeing him suspiciously. You tried to pry his hand off, but it didn’t budge. He watched you struggle for a bit, before chuckling and finally letting go.

“My apologies, darling. I’m Jimin, at your service,” he bowed deeply, almost mockingly, the wide grin never leaving his lips.

“U-uh, (y/n) at yours,” you said, not used to such formal greetings.

Jimin winked at you as he stood up, before walking over to Yoongi and slinging an arm around him.

Yoongi let out an irritated huff. “Watch it. I can’t get this stuff anywhere, it stains like crazy.”

Jimin tsk’d. “Yoongi-hyung. Always so serious,” he drawled, fake pouting. “

“Someone has to keep it together around here, Jin brings in one simple human and everyone loses their damn sanity. It’s like working with a bunch of children.. very stupid children,” you couldn’t help the pout that spread over your lips, when he referred to you as a “simple human”.

Jimin threw his head back in laughter, a rather lovely sound that made you think of strawberries and sweet tea on a hot summer day.

Yoongi turned around to face you, holding a vile of some strange looking purple-ish liquid. “It is actually good you’re here though, Jin-hyung asked me to conduct the experiment again when you came. And since you’re here, sit down, next to (y/n) and I’ll make this as quick as possible.”

Jimin hummed in agreement and sat down next to you, you felt the mattress dip slightly beneath him.

Yoongi reached behind him and grabbed a syringe, also filled with the purple liquid but something seemed slightly off about it. The syringe seemed to have a purple glow that the vile didn’t have, not to mention the blue ropes of whatever swirling around inside it.

You held your breath as he approached, eyes trained on the syringe. You closed your eyes tightly, as he approached you first, waiting to feel the pain of the syringe penetrating your skin.

When you felt the cold glass of the vile press against your lips, you let out a small relieved sigh. “Open.” Yoongi instructed, and you did as told.

The liquid inside was cold as well, it tasted a bit like candle wax but you swallowed it anyways, scrunching up your nose in the process.

You opened your eyes when you felt Yoongi move, removing the vile from you and moving on the Jimin. He was already holding his forearm out to Yoongi, having rolled up his white sleeve. You looked on curiously as Yoongi quickly stuck the needle into his skin, directly into a vein. Jimin tensed up, letting out a strained groan as the liquid filled his veins. He pressed a hand to his forearm, long nails digging into his own skin and leaving deep marks that would heal just a moment after.

“Don’t worry, doll-face. It doesn’t even hurt,” he grunted as Yoongi emptied the syringe and pulled it out.

Yoongi shook his head. “Don’t lie to yourself, Jiminnie. Here, drink this,” he said and handed Jimin your vile, barely any purple liquid left in it.

He quickly grabbed it and downed the rest, the unmistakeable clinking of sharp fangs against glass filled the room. He slurped loudly when the vile was empty and turned to you. His eyes were now almost consumed by the blue and gold, fangs protruding from his lip.

You felt a tingling sensation all around your body, your brain turned to static as you stared into the reflection of yourself in Jimin’s colorful eyes. You felt the hair on the back of your neck rise, you blinked a couple times but the world seemed to be in slow motion. You reached for Jimin, your hand feeling heavy just to lift.

“Do it. Now,” You faintly heard Yoongi in the background and suddenly Jimin was grabbing you by the waist and hoisting you up on his lap. He tilted you backwards and used one of his hands to move your head to get as much access to your neck as he could.

You whined, not really sure if it was out of disagreement or contentment. You felt his cold breath on your neck, his wet tongue licking a long, thick stripe up your neck before his fangs graced your skin. He didn’t hesitate further, letting his fangs sink into your putty-like skin with a content moan.

He held you closely to him as you laid spread out over his lap, you closed your eyes as your head lolled back. You felt the blood pumping in your veins and leaving your body, you felt his icy hands grasping your side and your jaw.

A new, cold feeling spread from his fangs and through your body and suddenly your consciousness was back. You sat up a bit more, grasping his shoulders with a gasp as you felt the familiar pleasure of being bitten but just as you started to enjoy yourself, he pulled away with a long moan. His eyes rolled to the back of his head as he dried the corners of his mouth with his sleeve.

“Hm, thank you, pretty one. You are absolutely exquisite,” he panted, looking down at you with doe eyes. They were back to their normal color, or what could be considered a normal color for a wizard-vampire creature you assumed.

You let out a disappointing huff, cheeks tinted red from the compliment. “Oh? Are you not satisfied, dear?” He asked smugly, a mischievous shine in his eyes.

“Oh no, she’s had more than enough already. You did well, Jimin.” Yoongi cut in, handing you a plate of clementines that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere.

You gingerly took the plate from him, immediately popping a slice of clementine in your mouth, smiling to yourself as the sweet juices filled your mouth.

Jimin hummed at Yoongi’s compliment and gently ushered you from his lap, onto the bed again.

“This is the first experiment that went genuinely well, or without our subject passing out,” Yoongi said, furiously writing down in a notebook.

“Oh?” Jimin said, quickly jumping off the bed and moving behind Yoongi to see his notes. He snorted, rather loudly. “Jeongguk almost ate her alive, I see. Rather bold of you to conduct an experiment with him in the first place,”

Yoongi elbowed him and swiftly closed the notebook. “Shut up.” He muttered.

You stared at the two as they bickered, Jimin catching your eyes and winking again. “Eat up, dearie. You need the strength,” he said in a singsong voice, fingers drumming on Yoongi’s shoulder.

You nodded, a little embarrassed at getting caught staring and went back to your clementines.

“So. Jimin is a warlock?”

“Mhm.” Namjoon nodded, eyes not leaving his book. The two of you were spread across a couch in front of the fireplace. You had been a bit weary about turning it on, fearing that it would somehow interfere wrongly with Namjoon’s icy body temperature but he assured you it made no different.

Your head was in his lap as you stared up at the backside of the book he was reading; Anatomicum: a guide to resurrection and the art of the human viscera.

“Actually, Jimin is older than a lot of us. On the inside at least, physically not so much,” Namjoon said, licking his finger as he turned a page. “He was one of Jin’s first experiments, of course with consent, he wanted to temper with warlock DNA and as you probably have noticed, Jimin is indeed also a creature of the night,” Namjoon smiled. “A vampire, as you put it.”

You snuggled further into his lap, your back completely turned to the hot fire. “Is Yoongi also one then? A warlock?” You mumbled tiredly, knowing Namjoon’s inhumanely good ears would pick up on it wether you spoke a bit quieter or not.

Namjoon opened his mouth, but closed it again. He let out a breath through his nose, before he spoke. “No. Yoongi is.. special in his own way.”

You huffed at his vague answer. “That certainly clears things up, thank you, Joon.” You said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Namjoon chuckled. “He will tell you, if you survive long enough that is.” He said jokingly, closing his book.

You shut up, almost banging your head on his book. “I’m so tired!” You whined. “No one here tells me anything! First I get kidnapped, then I get almost killed on multiple occasions, the least I deserve is an answer, don’t you think?!” You raised your voice as you spoke, dramatically throwing yourself across the couch, away from Namjoon.

“I-I get pushed around, I have no idea what’s going on, I’m hungry, I’m scared and every time one of you do something to me it’s my fault?! I can’t- I won’t just sit by forever while you conduct your vile experiments on me!” You felt the tears well up in your eyes, the more you thought about it, until you were violently sobbing.

You sat up and pulled your knees to your chest, burying your face in them in the process. Hot, warm tears streamed down your face as the reality finally sunk in.

Surely, you were gonna die here. You couldn’t even go back home with everyone thinking you killed the high priestess, but right now you wanted nothing more than to bury yourself under the covers of your bed back at the monastery. You missed your roommates too, they had been kind to you even though you initially had expressed no interest in the church.

You even missed your parents who sent you away to that awful monastery to begin with.

The thoughts only made you cry harder, until your body was shaking and you struggled to breathe. Your cheeks were red in embarrassment, but you couldn’t stop the tears from flowing over, your loud wailing echoing in the room.

He calmly looked on as you threw your fit. “Curious things, humans, aren’t they?” He said, mostly to himself. “Alright, ask me a question and I will answer as truthfully as I’m allowed.”

You sniffled, lifting your tear stained face from your knees. A bit of snot was hanging from your nose and quickly you wiped it away, an embarrassed laughed leaving your lips once you finally stopped crying.

“Well..” you pretended to think deeply for a moment. “I wanna know what Yoongi did to me down in the lap, it seems to be the first time my life having been hanging by a thread.” You said, wiping your eyes with your sleeves.

Namjoon smiled, dimples wide on display. “This, I can answer!” He clapped his hands together, excited to talk about his favorite subject; potions.

“I’m guessing Yoongi gave you the purple colored liquid?” Namjoon asked, tilting his head as he scooted closer to you.

You nodded, looking up at him with big doe eyes.

“Alright, well, I told you about the poisons, yeah? Of course I did. So, the purple liquid was actually another sample of Jeongguk’s venom, you know the one that makes you really tired? Yoongi probably mixed it with herbs, since the raw stuff would be way too strong for you, and that’s why it’s purple. The injections he gave Jimin, was simply to boost is fangs and blood hunger to make the experiment quicker. If I know Yoongi well, and I do, he probably gave Jimin a sample of the venom too, to see if it has any affects on the process-“

You put a gently hand on his cheek, cutting off his rambling. He looked at you, confused. “But why? What was the point of this experiment?” You asked, voice a bit raw from crying.

“Oh,” Namjoon chuckled. “You see, Jimin’s poison has a cancelling effect on other poisons, without other poisons in your system it could be extremely dangerous as it will also cancel out your blood flow amongst other things, but as a cure for a larger number of other poisons it works quite well. The experiment was simply to test if he could drain Jeongguk’s poison from you. It seems the experiment was quite successful,” he tilted his head. “How are you feeling?”

You closed your eyes for a moment, leaning back on the couch as you tried to connect with your body. “Tired. But not in a poisonous way, I guess. Just tired as in its-late-and-I-should-sleep kinda way.”

“That’s good. Means Jin’s theory’s were right, they have never been wrong though. I mean, they are always mostly right,” he chuckled.

“Hm,” you hummed, leaning your head on his shoulder. You stayed like that, watching the fire with heavy eyelids, just enjoying the quiet.

You were almost asleep, when the door was swung open. Swift steps made their way over to the couch and you recognized a familiar smell of iron.

“Lady (y/n)!” Aera beamed, standing over you.

You sad up and looked around groggily, realizing that Namjoon was no longer with you but someone, you suspected him as the culprit, had placed a blanket over you.

“Ohh you look so cute when you’re tired! I could just about eat you whole!” She giggled and you looked at her startled, not quite sure if she was joking or not.

She pinched your red cheeks, running her other hand down your neck. “No time to sleep! The night is still young and you have a dinner to get ready for,” she said, tone slightly scolding.

In your tired state, you leaned your head on her hand, making her smile appear even wider. “Come now, plaything, we have much to do to get you looking presentable,” she teased and pulled you up by the hands, wrapping an arm around your waist.

“Dinner?” You asked as she guided you our the doors of the library and down the hall.

“A dinner, yes! Ohh! I’m just so excited to see the other lords react to you, little bunny!” She giggled, taking quickly off down the hall with you safely fastened in her arms.

To be continued..

[yunhofingers-writes]

Maybe They Were Right- Seonghwa x Hongjoong

Note♥︎- HEYY!! YALL UP?!?????? And the surprise goes onnnn😏 we still got a big surprise to look forward to… here my tag list if you want to join ..thank you @atiny-dazzlinglight for the picture

Genre♡︎- Smut

Warnings/Tags♥︎-Grinding, dirty talk, fingering, nipple play and hair pulling.

Pairing: Seonghwa, Hongjoong X F!reader

Word count♡︎-1132

❥- You were sitting at the bar drinking some water since you were the one to drive your friends today. “Come on, it'll be fun,” they said. “You’re going to have fun,” they said. You rolled your eyes at even the thought of them being right and asked for a drink. As you were drinking, you looked up and saw one of your friends grinding on someone and you also saw your other friends grinding on each other. You laughed and quickly took a picture of them for blackmailing purposes.

“Here you go, ma’am.” The bartender said, giving you another drink you in fact did not order and you looked up at him with a tilt to the head in confusion. He pointed at two men from across the room who were watching you. One was kind of above average height and the other one was short.

You waved at them with a slight smile and looked at your ice to make sure it wasn’t sinking.

As you were looking, you felt two figures standing on the side of you.

“We’re not trying to poison or drug you.” You heard a deep voice behind you.

“I was making sure. Usually people buy others’ drinks to poison them.” You shrugged at them and they nodded, agreeing with the information.

“Well we bought it because you’re a gorgeous woman sitting by yourself.” The tall one was speaking.

You took a good look at both of them, noticing both of them are good looking.

Nah fuck that.

They were hot as fuck.

“What’s your names?” You asked them, bodly, not so secretly checking them both out.

“I’m Hongjoong and this is Seonghwa.” The short one greeted them and you told them your name.

“Would you like to dance with us?” Seonghwa asked, looking at the dance floor.

“Hmm..Yeah, I have nothing else to do.” You shrugged and got up, walking to the dance floor, both of them hot on your trail.

“Can yall keep up with me though?” You asked with a smirk on your face.

“Can you keep up with us?!” Hongjoong responded with a little laugh.

You didn’t say anything, instead you decided to turn around and grind slightly on Hongjoong, smirking when said boy pushed against you.

“Oh? that’s how you wanna dance?” Seonghwa asked, voice rising a little and you giggled, nodding and grinding down again.

“He clearly likes it.” You rotate your hips against him, feeling him half hard.

Hongjoong’s cheeks were dusty red as he grinded back against you.

“What about me?” Seonghwa’s voice got a little deeper than what it was earlier.

You turned around, facing hongjoong with a goofy smile on your face.

“Turned on already?”

Hongjoong straighten you and pancaked you between both him and Seonghwa and thrusted up against you.

You pushed back against Seonghwa, throwing your head back against Seonghwa’s shoulder.

“I’m sure you are too.” Was Hongjoong’s comeback before pushing between you again.

You bit your lip before you felt Seonghwa grab your hips, moving you around his hard on.

You heard his breathing fasten.

“Can I kiss you?” Hongjoong asked voice hushed, almost like he was nervous

You didn’t answer him instead, you grabbed his head and smashed your lips against his. The kiss was all teeth and tongue.

Seonghwa broke the kiss after a while of watching and turned your head towards him.

Your breathing was uneven, your mouth was open and your lips were swollen.

Seonghwa kissed you. This kiss was different from the one with you and Hongjoong though. This one was soft, caring, and loving. Your tongues danced around each other.

That was until Hongjoong felt left out and decided to do something about it.

He roughly gripped your breasts between his hands, smirking to himself when you broke the kiss to moan.

“Fuck.”

As Hongjoong continued to play with your breasts, Seonghwa leaned down to play with your neck, kissing and sucking little hickies onto it.

“Are you both planning on making me cum on the middle of the dance floor or are you going to take me?”

Hongjoong somehow stepped closer to you with a sly smirk. “You want us to make you cum on the dance floor? Cause we definitely can make that happen, but you can’t be shy.” He whispered in your ear lowly , slowly dragging his hand down to where your cunt lay. He cupped it, looking you directly in your eyes.

You gasped and looked down to where his hand was. “P-please.”

“Seonghwa.” Was all Hongjoong said before you felt Seonghwa’s finger tapping your clit.

“Her panties are wet as fuck.” Seonghwa told Hongjoong and hongjoog’s eyebrow raised at you. “You wet, baby? All we did was grind against you.”

You didn’t even expect Hongjoong to be acting like this. You were expecting this energy to be coming from Seonghwa, not Hongjoong.

“You could’ve done us a favor and put a skirt on or a dress.” Seonghwa whispered before dipping his finger in between your shorts.

“W-wasn’t expecting for this to happen.” You stuttered out, already grinding your hips against his finger.

“As pretty as you are?” Hongjoong cocked his head to the side.

“You know what I wanna do?” Seonghwa asked you.

“No.” You shook your head

“I wanna eat that pretty twat you hiding in these shorts while I watch you wither around telling me it’s too much.” He bit your earlobe and pushed himself up into you.

Before you could even answer, you felt Hongjoong playing with your nipples.

“She seems to like you talking to her like that, hwa.” Hongjoong looked at you and back at Seonghwa as he was talking.

“Of course she does. She’s a little slut.” He yanked your hair back, laughing mockingly at the little scream you let out.

You have never ever really expirence this kind of talking ever in your sex and you have to admit, it’s doing stuff to you.

“You going to cum in front of all these people?” Hongjoong asked, tweaking your nipples.

“It’s not enough to make me cum.” You breathed out.

Mistake.

“Oh yeah?” Hongjoong groaned out and your eyes widened a bit, but you stood your ground.

“yup.” You popped the p

Hongjoong and Seonghwa looked at each other before dragging you to the men’s bathroom.

No one was in there so Seonghwa locked the door and turned towards the both of you.

“Top off.” Seonghwa commanded and you quickly snatched your shirt off.

“We won’t fuck you today.” Was all that Hongjoong told you.

“We want to get to know you first.” Seonghwa explained quickly, not wanting you to think wrong

You nodded your head, smiling at the thought of them wanting to make something real with you.

“But I am a man of my word. I will eat that sweet cunt of yours at least on our second day meeting.” Was what Seonghwa said before latching his mouth onto your nipple.

“Let us make you cum.”

Hongjoong put his hand back into your shorts, rubbing your clit harshly.

Seonghwa was playing with your nipple. He mouthed at one while his fingers were tweaking the other with his wet finger.

“You’re so pretty, slobbering and drooling all over yourself.” Hongjoog whispered to you, taking his finger out to lick it all while keeping eye contact with you.

Your legs felt like giving up. You were feeling so amazing tonight. You never want any of it to end, ever.

“Let me see how tight you are.” Hongjoong pushed his finger into your hole, groaning at how you easily took his finger without any problem.

“Feeling good, baby?” Seonghwa asked before pinching your nipple.

You moaned loudly and nodded.

“Y-Yes making me feel so good.”

“Of course we are.” Was his response.

Everything was too much for you. You were already at the brink before you all even went to the bathroom. The moment Hongjoong curled his finger inside of you, you came in your shorts with a loud wail.

“Look at that Seonghwa. The slut came from my finger.��

“Mhm- I wonder how she’ll react to our cocks inside of her.”

Your body shook and you dropped on the ground.

Hongjoong chuckled darkly at you before helping you when you calmed down.

“You look so good like this. All fucked out and we bearly did anything to this body of yours yet. We didn’t get to explore you yet. “ Seonghwa smirked down at you before tapping your butt.

“What about you guys?” Your voice wavered

“Don’t worry about him, I got him.” Seonghwa smiled at you.

What did he mean by that?

“Give me your number, cutie.” Seonghwa passed you his phone.

You pushed your number in before saving it in and giving it to him.

“We’ll text you when we get home, okay?”

You nodded and they unlocked the door, leaning you there in the best mood of your life.

Maybe your friends were right.

Krusty crew: @serialee @galaxteez @multidreams-and-desires @a-soft-hornytiny @yeotlny @lizsvcks @build-a-roleplay @moonxteez @yeosang99 @yunsangoveryonder @twancingyunhoe @seongsangsgf @chvngbxn @latte-fairytaekwoon @sansbun @little-precious-baby @ateezappreciation @yutasyiddiepiercing2 @empenguin01 @violetwinters @its-bsma @underratedmisfit @sourmistress-blog @lunarteez2 @http-lovelyknow @wonderlandless @rainteez02 @yungisstar1117

Network ping: @8makes1teamnet

[bteezxyewriter12]

Show Me/ 1

Pairing- Yunho x Named Reader

Genre/Au- Smut

Word Count- 2k

Includes- Fingering, multiple orgasms

Tag List- @hijirikaww @http-lovelyknow

Masterlists- check out for more fics

📝Masterlists 📝ATEEZ Masterlist

📝Yunho Masterlist

Part 2. Part 3. Part 4

Yunho POV

My gaze moves to her, seeing the shock in her face from what I asked her

"Uh what?"

"Can you show me how to make a girl cum?"

"Yunho what the fuck? Why are you asking me instead of your girlfriend?"

"Because she wants to do more and I've never done anything and I'm scared I can't do it and she'll break up with me because I can't please her"

The surprise on her face hasn't changed, "Yunho....that's cheating"

I know but I rather practice then mess up with my girlfriend, Hyejin. I've never had a girlfriend before, hence I haven't done anything sexual yet. All we've done is touch each other through clothes. I've seen her boobs, touched them, sucked on them

But she wants more. She's done everything before but she agreed to go at my pace. And she wants me to touch her and touch me. She's hinted when we're kissing, putting her fingers just under my waistband

But when I don't make a move she moves her hand away

I want her to feel good. I want to be able to please her. I need help. And since my best friend is a girl who I trust unconditionally, I want her to show me how

"It not...it's purely for scientific reasons", I answer

She raises her eyebrow with an "are you kidding?" look on her face

"Please. I trust you. You can show me without anything between us changing"

She hesitates

"Just think of it as tutoring like you used to do for me when we were in high school"

"Ok Yunnie it's a little.... no a lot different than that. That's not comparable at all"

She's right but I don't know what to compare this too

"Please? No one has to know ok? I'm doing this for my girlfriend"

"Do you hear how crazy that sounds? You want to touch me sexually, make me cum so you know what to do with your girlfriend. That's insane"

I know it is but I'm scared I'm going to do something wrong or possibly hurt Hyejin. But if she shows me what to do, I'll be able to

"Please?"

She stares at me for a minute, then sighs, "Fine. But if you get caught you better not blame me"

"C'mon Jo, you know I wouldn't"

"Yeah well you never know. Especially when it comes to Hyejin"

"I won't", I insist

"Ok fine"

"So now?"

"Now?", she asks surprised

I nod. I'm seeing Hyejin tomorrow and I want to be able to make her orgasm

"Fine. Let's go"

She stands from her couch and heads to her room with me following her

"Sit or lay over there", she says, pointing to the right side of her bed

I sit and she lays down next to me, putting the blanket over her. I watch her wiggle around, wondering what she's doing. She drops something on the floor

"What's that?", I ask

She raises an eyebrow, "My shorts and underwear"

I swallow hard, "Oh"

"So look, since this is for "science", I'm going to let you touch me but that's it. I'm keeping my shirt on and the blanket over me. You can touch but not see. I'm not your girlfriend"

I nod. Sounds reasonable

"Ok. Come closer to me"

I scoot over, right against her. She looks unsure as she takes my hand, pulling it under the blanket. I'm so nervous. I actually can't believe I'm doing this. I'm going to touch another girl before my girlfriend. But it's so I can do a good job for Hyejin

I feel my hand touch something soft, "Is that...."

"Yeah", she answers

Ok. Just breathe. She moves my hand down more and I feel my fingers get wet

I tense, "I uh..."

"It's suppose to happen. If you want to stop we can"

She's giving me an out but I'm not taking it

"I don't want to"

She nods, moving my fingers right into her wetness. Then she moves my hand up, two of my fingers on her. She moves my fingers in circles against a bump

Her clit. Oh fuck, I'm touching her clit. Slowly she moves her hands away

"Keep doing that", she tells me

I nod, moving my fingers the way she showed me too. Looking at her, she closes her eyes, her breathing getting harder. After a minute or two, she moves my hand back down, coating them in her arousal, then putting them back on her clit

"You have to keep it wet or it'll start to hurt", she tells me

"Ok". I move my fingers again, rubbing her

"Ffff....faster", she asks breathlessly,

I think I'm getting her closer and I move my fingers faster like she wants. Her clit feels mostly soft but a little hard in the middle and I think it's throbbing. Not going to lie, I'm getting turned on. Just feeling her and listening to her breaths getting faster is making me a little hard

"Shit shit shit", she moans softly, shaking a little, biting her lip. Did she....did I make her?

"Did you cum?", I ask

She nods, stopping my hand . That's it? Just rub her clit and that makes a girl cum? What about inside?

"Is that the only thing I can do?"

She looks over at me, "Well you made me cum like you wanted"

"Yeah but what about...like...touching.... inside?", I ask, turning red

"Fingering?". I nod. "Uh yeah ok. I can show you that. It's a little harder than just touching a girl's clit"

"Ok. Show me"

She nods, "Touch me"

I put my hand back on her

"Lower"

Sliding my hand down, my fingers get soaking wet. Jesus Christ she's really really wet. And I made her like this. I feel her hand go back on mine, pushing my middle and ring finger down more

My fingertips slip inside.... inside her and she says , "Push them in as far as you can"

I nod, doing just that. Jesus, it's so tight, her pussy squeezing my fingers, giving me an immediate hard on. I knew she'd be wet and tight but not this tight. Or warm

"Fuck", she whimpers, pussy clenching over and over, "Move you're ah fingers in and out"

Pulling my fingers almost out, I move them back inside, her cunt sucking them back in. Oh god, that feels good. Still moving, I make sure my fingers go inside her as far as I can. She moans softly and my eyes move to her face, seeing her in pleasure

When I pull my fingers out, she grabs my hand, sliding my fingers over to the side a little, moving the tip of my pointer finger in her too, then she pushes them back inside

"Fuck", she moans, her body shaking

"Jo?", I ask

"Right there. Move your fingers right into that spot"

"Ok. Does it feel extra good there?"

She nods, "Yeah"

Ok then. Thrusting my fingers in and out, I make sure my fingers hit that spot over and over. She grips my wrist so hard, holding on, her other hand twisting in the sheets. Shit, I'm really making her feel good. I'm kinda proud

"Oh god", she moans, her pussy getting so tight on my fingers. I feel my hand get flooded with her cum and fuck I like it. Still moving my hand, I keep going

"Yunnie-"

"Again", I tell her, determined to make her cum again. It's kinda like a power trip, knowing that I'm the reason why she's in so much pleasure

"Ok", she whispers, her eyes closing again. I feel her hand move down again, shifting my hand. She puts my thumb on her clit, moving it in circles again

"Ddd...do that and finger me at the same time", she whimpers

That's a lot of coordination but fuck it, I'm gonna do it. When she moves her hand away, I do exactly what she tells me, feeling her get more wet. Jesus how wet can a girl get?

It's leaking around my hand, out of her. This time around is taking a longer, my hand starting to hurt. But I'm not stopping until she cums. I find that I want it so much

"Ppp..press on the spot", she says softly. I nod, shoving my fingers all the way in, pressing against her spot, my thumb still moving on her clit

"Yes oh god, don't stop"

Oh my god, hearing her is so hot. Letting go of her spot, I press on it again, again and again

"Yes oh yes", she breathes, flooding my fingers in cum, her body shaking hard next to me. Fuck yes! I made her cum three times in a row. I'm so proud I can do it.

Pulling my fingers out, I can't help but look at them. They're so wet, covered in white creamy cum. Fuck, she cums like that? It's such a turn on

"Here", she says, handing me a tissue, "You uh you can go wash your hands"

Her cheeks are so pink and she's avoiding my gaze. "Yeah ok. In a minute". She just nods

"Was...was it good?", I ask

"Yeah Yunnie. It was. You catch on quick"

I smile happily, "So uh does every girl have a spot like you do?"

She shrugs, "Supposedly. But I can't really tell you where it is on anyone else. There's a general area but you just have to move your fingers around to find Hyejin's specific spot"

Huh, I guess that makes sense it wouldn't be in the same place for every girl

"If you just do what you did with me, it should work"

Ok then, maybe I can get Hyejin to cum a lot too

"Do uh...do you want me to uh....give you a handjob?", she asks

I snap my eyes to her. I shouldn't. I did this to learn how to make Hyejin feel good. But it feels like crossing a line if she does it to me and I cum

"Uh no thanks"

She nods, "Alright". Awkward silence falls and she still refuses to look at me

"I'm gonna uh, wash my hands", I say lamely

She nods and I get out of her bed, going to her bathroom. As I wash my hands, I wonder if anything is going to change with us. I don't want it to, I just need her to show me how to do things. I'm not going to change around her. Like I said this is for scientific reasons

I push out the memories of how pretty she looked in pleasure, how her body moved when she came, how she felt inside

'Stop', I tell myself

I can't think about that. I just have to remember what to do so I can do it to Hyejin. Walking back to her room, she's sitting on her bed, her clothes back on

"So...that's it", she says. Fuck, it's so awkward

"Yeah. Thanks for helping me"

"Yeah uh you're welcome?", she asks more than tells me

"I uh...I'm gonna go"

"Oh yeah sure", she says standing up. She walks past me, to her door and I can only follow. Opening the door, she holds it open for me

"I'll see you later", I say awkwardly

"Yeah ok. Call me when you wanna hang out"

"Yeah definitely", I answer

"Uh good luck with everything"

Right. With Hyejin

"Thanks"

We both nod at each other, then I step out of her apartment. The door closes and I just walk down the hall to the door. I really hope I didn't fuck up our friendship. She's my best friend and I need her. I can't lose her

Getting into the car Seonghwa lent me, I decide to text Hyejin. Maybe I can see her tomorrow or something. I don't know what I'm feeling, but I feel uneasy as I drive back to the dorm

[http-lovelyknow]

AGAIN WITH THIS SHIT

MARK LEE RAPPING'S SO HOT BRB IM GONNA CRY

[http-lovelyknow]

Okay so like I’m going to see hobi at lollapalooza and tell me wHY MY DAD IS SO EXCITED TO GO like I’m 23 and he’s coming by choice he’s so sweet wtf

[http-lovelyknow]

I’m sorry changbin is so hot please the metaphoric chokehold that man has me in is insane

[http-lovelyknow]

YALL THE TALENT

bts butter part ⁶ lockscreen

like / reblog if u save : don't repost

psd by feerbell on deviantart

[http-lovelyknow]

my soul hurts so if anyone sees felix please send him to me immediately I need him to hug me asap thanks

[http-lovelyknow]

it’s fun <3

I'm trying to look respectively but its just...difficult

[http-lovelyknow]

Ateez

Key

Smut💋

Fluff🍬

Angst☔

Crack👀 

Kim HongJoong - NA

Park Seonghwa - NA

Jeong Yunho -

Hustler - Coming soon - Teaser

Kang Yeosang - NA

Choi San - NA

Song Mingi - NA

Jung Wooyoung - NA

Choi Jongho - NA

[http-lovelyknow]

No one:

  Seventeen:🤏