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to-read-is-to-dream · 10 months ago

Text

like last year’s vogue

minatozaki sana x fem!reader

synopsis: and maybe you’re just tired of the limitations of wealth, the grandeur, the opulence. maybe you’re just tired of seeing the same people day in and day out. but without that, there’s only sana — sana who smirks at you like there's a joke you’re never in on, who shows up in spaces she doesn’t belong and makes you want her.

tags: rich kids!au ; smut ; bondage ; edging ; praising ; spanking ; strapping ; sana has her middle-class shit together ; kinda friends to lovers ; friends with benefits ; and anything else i’ve missed

author’s note: money, sex, power. inspired by the wolf of wall street, which if you haven’t watched yet, can be described in three words. money, sex, power. (and drugs, so maybe not three words.) not proofread!!

you are a pretentious bitch.

the only reason sana knows you at all is because you run in nayeon’s circle, where all twenty-somethings do: haughty, bored, and with more money than they’ve ever had original ideas. she’d met you months previously with your lips a dark red and your eyelids smoky, extending a hand as if dainty, delicate. as if you’d expected sana to bring it to her mouth and leave a kiss. like you’d known her own worth and took great pleasure in marking it up.

the two of you had clasped hands. “minatozaki sana?” you’d said mildly. “nayeon talks about you... frequently.”

sana had smiled, tight, and then eyed your leather pants and boots and white crop top underneath your fuzzy grey cardigan — no doubt worth thousands of dollars — and said, “nayeon talks about you when you’re relevant to her story.”

your eyes had narrowed; the corner of your mouth curled. something had passed between you both, then; something sana understood.

nobody talked back to you like that, because nobody ever talked back to rich kids.

and you, in all your pompous, disdainful, raven-haired and golden-eyed grandeur, loved it.

sana only manages invites to very specific events, but she’s never left out of a single one meant for her: kickbacks, birthday parties, my-parents-are-out-of-town ragers; everything that doesn’t require money itself to pass.

she’s not in your circle — she’s not wealthy, doesn’t have important parents, doesn’t come from splendor and opulence — but she’s cool. she’s effortlessly cool, the kind half the kids spend inordinate amounts of money attempting to replicate. she has her own apartment, and she isn’t in a bad neighborhood. she knows exactly who she is and what she’s doing with it, and it’s the kind of self-sufficient stability everyone else admires. it’s like she doesn’t need money, like it doesn’t impress her at all — and it’s insanely, outrageously appealing.

she also restores motorcycles for a living, an occupation that gives her incredibly defined muscles and the enviable air of honest, hard work; she also knows how to ride them, a detail you’re once again forced to reckon with when sana roars up to nayeon’s on a friday night, straddling the seat of a yellow-to-orange hued 1940 indian chief. glossy, beautiful, like it’s never been touched — she’s probably put months of work into it.

jay and mark meet her at the end of the driveway, already eager and awed like five-year old boys rather than adults; she slips her helmet off her head, hops off the bike, and humors every question they lob at her with an easy grin.

you watch it all from the back gate, staring down the driveway with a red solo cup of maker’s 46 in your hand. you and sana are familiar, but nothing more; she’s nayeon’s friend. that’s something set in stone. sana probably wouldn’t show up to something nayeon wasn’t at, though she’d definitely be invited.

on this occasion, nayeon’s parents have taken her younger sister seoyoon to paris as a high-school graduation gift, leaving her with an empty house and a perfect opportunity.

you’ve been there for an hour already, on the verge of giving up — sometimes nayeon’s parties grow dull, and that’s a point where you think of dragging jay off, fucking him to relieve the boredom. it doesn’t usually work, but it’s still better than sitting at a table half-drunk with a group of twenty-three-year-olds whose only substance is composed of the drugs they snort.

until sana, at least — because the first thing sana does upon walking up the driveway is meet your eyes, let her grin unfold. she slips her round sunglasses off her face, folds them into the collar of her shirt — oh, of course, you think, leaning against the gate with your arms loosely crossed. of course, she looks incredible.

she doesn’t even try. she’s wearing a black ac/dc back in black t-shirt, loosely tucked into her dusty-red cuffed pants, and black sneakers you vaguely place as old skool vans — jay, who came from newer money, owned a few pairs. he’s thought they were cool. but they look infinitely better on her, like she could’ve stepped out of an instagram feed for street fashion, resentfully casual at five-nine with her blonde hair tumbling down her back.

“(insert affectionate pet name),” she says.

“minatozaki,” you answer in return, your usual greeting. you’re not sure where it started, and even less sure why — but you can never quite get over the sense that you’re being teased.

“i’m glad you’re here,” sana says, which isn’t part of your usual greeting, and forces a momentary pause while you consider your angle.

“are you?” you ask eventually, but your indifference is never as effective on sana as it is on everyone else.

“yeah,” sana says, and she steps forward, plucking your cup straight from her hand and knocking back a swig; it’s so unexpected you don’t have a chance to stop it, and your instinct is more of bewilderment than it is of offense. sana wipes the corner of her mouth with the back of her wrist, and her smirk glitters. “i’ve been bored recently.”

she says bored like a threat, like a crime with a punishment. she doesn’t wait for a response, despite lingering for a moment before brushing by you into the yard with your bodies too close for the breath of a second and your eyes locking — your disinterest loses to your intrigue, and sana’s nothing but challenge, ominous enough for an edge.

it’s only after she’s steps ahead and jeongyeon’s calling her name that you catalog her boredom as the opportunity it is, as an offer. you’re not sure what exactly it entails, not sure you’re even interested; sure, sana’s attractive in every sense of the phrase, but she’s not worth it. that’s what you tell yourself as you retreat back into the yard, anyway.

so, it’s a coincidence that it’s sana you sit next to at the table where jeongyeon’s starting a game of king’s cup. and it just makes sense to pick sana as your partner when you draw an eight. and when there’s a waterfall, sana waits an extra ten seconds to stop drinking, knowing you’re right after her — but it doesn’t mean anything.

maybe you’ve been bored, too.

it’s a game with one motive: get everybody drunk.

sana draws a jack and makes a rule for no names, which fucks all of you over spectacularly — mark and jay just resort to slurring the word dude over and over to get attention, but as all of you are a group of people who don’t normally respond to being addressed as such, it only marginally works.

it ends when jihyo cracks the can — she’s forced to shotgun over the grass, everyone standing around her and cheering. nayeon, momo, and mina watch from the spa, all in various states of mild amusement.

except sana, who you catch slipping out the gate onto the long driveway and follow her.

“hey,” you say, and sana turns around in a brief surprise, joint hanging between her lips. she’s holding a lighter in her right hand, and a water bottle sits on the roof of nayeon’s aston martin.

she relaxes upon seeing you. “hey,” she says, continuing flicking the spark wheel. “you want a hit?”

“of that cheap shit?” you say. “i’ll pass.”

sana merely rolls her eyes, grinning. she exhales smoke as she speaks. “i buy from jay,” she says, and oh, of course she does — they smoke the same weed. “so, unless your problem is with my mouth” — she takes a step forward into your space, tilts her head down to emphasize your height difference — “i think you’re safe.”

there’s the challenge. “maybe it’s just you i have a problem with.”

but sana only laughs, and it’s clear she doesn’t buy it for a second — she takes another deep hit, stubs out the joint on a groove in the stone masonry of the house. you don’t live here, and so you don’t care. as long as the two of you are getting somewhere.

which you both seem to be, fast. “admit it,” sana says, bringing her arm to the wall over your head, drawing inwards. you only watch, masked and unreadable aside from the smirk playing about the corners of her mouth. “you think i’m hot.”

“i don’t think you have nearly enough money to be as confident as you are,” you say airily in response, bringing your cup to your mouth. but you’re losing, as much as you don’t want to admit it, as light and untethered as you keep your voice. you could slip out from underneath sana’s arm, walk back into the party, spend the rest of the night eating finger sandwiches and pretending to laugh at the boys’ bad jokes. you could, but you don’t, and you won’t.

sana’s smile burns sinister — something of a storm, both threatening and beautiful — and leans even closer, forcing you to lower your cup. she says, “you don’t care about money,” and your eyebrow twitches at an incline. “you have more money than you know what to do with. you think ninety percent of your exclusive, wealthy inner circle is full of shit.” she casually lifts her free hand as she speaks, runs her index finger along your jawline; you tilt your head on instinct, giving her access. “they do cocaine because they can afford it; you’d rather be reading some profound, philosophical musing on life— like the alchemist or siddhartha or journey to the east.” there’s that tiny hitch to every inhale, air leaking from her lungs. sana drifts almost closer to your ear, drops her voice even further, reckless and bold as she murmurs: “they wouldn’t know how to fuck you even if you wrote them an instruction manual.”

okay, so, it’s possible you’ve underestimated her. fire spreads up the brush of your veins, lights your cheeks. not embarrassed. hot.

“you’ve been bored,” you say slowly, and this is already the best proposition you’ve ever gotten.

“i’ve been bored,” sana agrees, your lips inches from each other and her smile slipping wide.

it isn’t something to talk about. sana kisses you, you allow it — her tongue sweeps hot and consuming in your mouth, her calloused fingers still soft against the inside curve of your neck — and then says, “two hours, y/l/n, and i’m taking you home.”

“you better not be all talk, minatozaki.”

“oh, i’m going to do a lot of talking, and you’re going to do exactly what i tell you to.”

she’s sobered by the time she sneaks out of the party with you hours later and you’re on your way, but you hadn’t committed quite like sana had. she only has one helmet, and she makes you wear it — safety first, she says dangerously, the double-entendre unmasked. you wrap your arms around sana’s waist, feeling the heat of her skin through her t-shirt, feel her muscles firm beneath your hands — and you think of ripping the helmet off, telling sana to fuck you on the bike, bending you over the seat. but sana revs the engine, kicks off the ground, and maybe you’ll save that request for a different day.

sana’s apartment is small by your standards, but then again, nearly everything is.

there are more pressing matters at hand. “safe word?” sana asks, breath hot against the inside of your ear; she skims her teeth over your earlobe, and purposefully, slowly exhales. your shiver is almost violent in its response, goosebumps erupting over your skin. kisses from your cheekbone to the corner of your mouth. kisses skin like it belongs to her.

“poverty.”

sana’s eyes flash in the darkness, amused at the response but deeming it unfitting for the course of the night; you know you’re in trouble before the two of you have even crossed that line. “feisty,” she comments, and her grip tightens just slightly. “what’s your real safe word, y/l/n?”

“target,” you say instead. the concept stands, but sana only smirks wider and allows it.

“i’m not into titles or roleplay,” sana says conversationally, twining strands of your hair through her fingers. “you can use my name, my last name, whatever — all that i care about,” she continues, and here’s the ground rules, “is that you’re good at doing what you’re told.”

it’s directly against your nature, but there’s a difference in the darkness. so, she says, “i think that’s something we can work on,” and mirrors sana’s smirk. good luck, you’re saying. give it a try.

you see the appreciation for your bite, even if you don’t get to feel it — sana tugs sharply on your hair, seems satisfied by the muted gasp, the way your chest heaves, tightens for a moment. “I’m not going to be rewarding you for your snark tonight,” she says, and with every word she locked herself away — or maybe she’s letting herself loose. “you’ll answer me only when i ask you to. you won’t touch me unless i say so, and even then, you can’t touch my hair. and you will not cum unless ordered to.” she senses the tensing of your body, the inherent argument and rebellion inside of you, and shifts her grip to your chin, catches it between her thumb and index. forces you to maintain eye contact. all you can comprehend from up-close is how gorgeous she is, her flawless skin, her full lips — “actually,” she finishes, “you’ll ask me permission to cum, and i’ll decide if i’ll allow it. understood?”

“yes,” you say, your voice a little too high and breathy for nonchalance.

“good.” sana gives you a kiss, the brush of lips, and she pulls on the fabric of your red shirt, tucked into your black high-waisted shorts. they’re tight, too — showing off the curve of your ass, barely covering the tops of your thighs — and lifts it overhead, careful of the long necklace of a cross around your neck. “think of this as a trial run.”

and then she tosses it on the floor like it’s nothing, examining you from top to bottom, lingering appreciatively on your breasts, your stomach, your legs. “take off your boots.”

there’s no way to do it gracefully — they’re kind of punk boots, silver spikes jutting out from the heel. sana keeps a hand on your waist, steadies you — and then smiles even broader when they’re off, distinctive and predatory. because now she’s really looking down.

“good,” she says again, and continues stripping you until you’re left only in her lingerie, trembling under sana’s gaze. sana’s taken your clothes, your height, your money — or your expression of it — left you bare. left you shivering. left you wet.

sana sweeps her hair over her shoulder, thumbs the trail of her collarbone, and she’s a strange mix of things both soft and cruel, of blades and beauty — she likes what she sees, but she also wants to ruin it.

that’s what you want, too. ruin.

“lie down,” sana says, nodding to the bed behind you. “and close your eyes.”

her bed’s comfortable; that’s the thought in the back of your mind with her eyelids shut, like an idle soothing of her nerves — but it’s replaced the minute sana crawls over you, whispers open — and now sana’s left in her own underwear, cleavage spilling out of her lace bra, her boy shorts hugging your ass — open — you think of opening a lot of things, her legs, her cunt, her ribcage—

sana’s far, far beyond stunning — she’s sexy, she’s filthy hot, abs defined and the do not cross lines of her biceps — hair up in a loose bun, eyelashes long and fine, lips pink and hungry — she captures your mouth, kisses like there’s a war she’s won and you’re standing in the aftermath — and then she falls to your jaw, your neck, your chest, maneuvers around the necklace. she takes time with her torture, unhooks your bra and slides it off your arms, rolls a nipple between her fingers before taking it in her mouth and sucking, lightly catching it between her teeth — you’re an inch away from writhing, your heart pulsing in the hollow of your throat, your breath turning into little flightless gasps—

sana loves this, you recognize immediately — she runs her hands all over your skin, like she can’t believe how tiny you are in comparison to the size of her own hands — she switches to your other breast, flicks the nipple with her tongue and takes it in �� sana hadn’t told you not to moan and you allow yourself the sound, the hum breaking the silence — sana pauses for a split second, grins, continues to your sternum, your stomach—

she palms your hips, fingertips trailing the line of your underwear. brings your head down, dips between your thighs — exhales through the lace, inhales your cunt, smirks at the smell of sex, the proof that if one of you had ever been all talk, it’d been you—

presses a kiss directly over your clit, and immediately upon reflex, you shoot a hand to sana’s hair.

sana sees it coming, lifts her head, catches your wrist in her hand firmly — it almost hurts, but in the good way, the pressure of breaking boundaries — and now she’s a searing red, her lips in a hard line.

“what did i say?” she asks slowly, shifts up onto her knees again, still grasping your wrist. “answer me.”

“don’t touch your hair,” you breathe out, feeling wetness seeping through your underwear.

sana’s eyes glitter. “and what did you do?”

“touch your hair.” it’s almost a whimper.

she straightens fully, releases your arm, goes for your hips instead, tugs your body down to the middle of the bed. “get on your knees,” she commands, backing away. you do as you’re told, almost wince at the sound of sana’s feet hitting the floor. not out of fear. out of anticipation.

you watch the imprints of your own weight against the mattress, how your palms sink, fingers spread; the cross dangles from your neck, but the only judgment you value is coming from the girl behind you, now settling close to your ass with something denim clutched in her hand. sana tugs your underwear halfway down her thighs, humming at the slickness of the material — your clit throbs, swollen — you’re sure you’re glistening in the dim light, from sana’s perspective, cunt hot and aching—

“this is why i hate rich kids,” sana says cooly, slipping her belt from her jeans and looping it in half, leather warm in her hand. she drags the edge of it from the top of your spine and down, over every bump and ridge, cataloging the goosebumps breaking out across your skin. it comes to rest on the curve of your ass, a warning, a threat, an absolvement. “you’re never taught any fucking manners.”

you don’t speak, don’t break the rules with the punishment so threateningly present — sana hums behind you, pleased by your silence, and brings the belt down across your ass in a firm stroke, creates a crack of the air—

somehow, the shock of it is still more than you expect; you gasp, muscles tensing automatically, feel the wetness gush sudden between your legs — you hadn’t considered this as something you’d be into, but the stinging after, the total lack of control—

sana smacks your ass again, her other palm flat against your lower back, curving around your side and steadying you. and again. and again. and again. your body shakes with the force of it, the pain spreading like needles — you have the sheets tightly wound in your hands now, face burning with your blood, tears pricking the corners of your eyes — you’re not sure how long you can stand it, your skin must be a bright red, your elbows on the verge of giving out, and then—

sana stalls, leather just resting on the stinging flesh of your ass. “does it hurt?” she asks, running a flat hand over the marks that are undoubtedly there.

“yes,” you whisper, only able to discern your shaking in the stillness.

a pause — that in itself is a threat. “and do you like it?”

no, you want to say, but you open your mouth, and you suddenly can’t lie. it burns — your skin’s raw and on fire — it’s fucking humiliating, not listening to instructions and being punished for it — but sana’s hand dips between your legs, and her fingers come away so wet there’s no point to it anyway—

“yes,” you say, tensing against the inevitable final strike at the admission, and you’re not disappointed.

you gasp like you’re drowning afterward — your thighs shaking, arch of your spine sinking with every breath, collapsing in on herself. the belt is tossed somewhere on the floor, and then sana’s running a soothing hand over your ass, lowering you down to the bed, carefully helping you turn back over — but even in the display, you know it’s just a necessity of your roles and not an indication that you’re atoned. no, no — sana slips her own underwear off, bra already gone, and pushes you flat against the mattress — and that’s a different kind of pain, one not entirely pleasant, your position uncomfortable with your sensitive skin, but then—

sana crawls up your body and doesn’t stop, slots her knees on either side of your head, one hand gripping the headboard — and suddenly her cunt is right there, bare and glistening an inch from your mouth. sana scratches her fingertips against your scalp, cups the back of your head, curling into your hair and says, “lick.”

well, so, you’ve never really slept with a girl. and clearly, that’s been the problem this entire time.

but it’s a secret that probably won’t serve you too well under current circumstances, and so you pause, meet sana’s eyes and hope it’s enough to convey the need for an exception to be made.

you get one better — sana takes that single look at you, eyebrows raising slightly, and says, “you’ve never gone down on a girl before, huh?”

“no,” you say, voice hoarse and husky. “but i get the general idea.”

sana actually cracks a smile at that — genuine, outside of the intensity of the moment. “alternate between a flat tongue and sucking my clit,” she says. “i like to grind.”

“fuck,” you breathe out, and that’s almost pushing it, settling back to the mood. she’s so hot — she loosens her hold just slightly on your head, thigh muscles flexing under her own weight, and you start with a broad stroke up her slit; she’s sweet to the taste but there’s a tang to it, addicting and sharp, and you lift your head higher, wrap her lips around sana’s clit and suck, flick it with your tongue — sana tugs on your hair, and you flatten your tongue again, let sana grind into your mouth, feel her cum smearing across your chin, your jaw—

“fuck,” sana murmurs above you, staring directly down as she fucks your mouth. “you can touch me.”

you hadn’t realized you’d been white-knuckling the sheets, but the minute you’re given permission your hands fly to sana’s thighs, nails digging in and holding her there, giving your lips better leverage — you can’t get enough of the taste, the heady scent, want sana to cum in your mouth, want to swallow every drop—

“fuck,” sana murmurs again, throwing her head back, body trembling. “y/n—”

her stomach muscles tighten, jaw falling open, fist tightening in your hair — she releases her breath in a series of choked moans, and you only pull her closer, tongue lapping at her cunt and refusing to release — sana indulges you a few seconds longer, like she admires the tenacity, the desire, and then pulls away, leaves your jaw a mess, lips glistening.

and then she grins, lifts a finger under your chin and tilts it. “not bad,” she says. “for your first time.”

so let me have a second, you almost say, go as far as having your mouth open — but then you shift, and your ass reminds you exactly why you shouldn’t. you shut it. sana grins even further, eyes narrowing slightly. proud.

“my turn,” she says, and nudges your knees apart, finds the sheet soaked underneath you and your thighs slick. she keeps her gaze darkly amused, smile careless. you can almost feel yourself being compared, being contemplated, being judged — and sana says, “spread your cunt for me.”

maybe sana’s testing your limits, how many orders you’ll take and how long you’ll take them — if you get worse with time or better, if you crack under the pressure — but you’re too far past self-image and reflection to care. you dip your fingers down, don’t even think of touching your own clit or fucking yourself — you do exactly what sana asks and wait, regardless of how exposed you feel, how open and vulnerable and nervous.

“good,” sana says, and settles onto her stomach, arms slipping underneath your thighs. “hands under your pillow. if you touch without permission, i swear i’ll tie your wrists behind your back and edge you for the next two hours.”

you nearly sob from the idea alone — you’ve been so wet for so long, clit throbbing, cunt aching — wrapping your fists tight around the pillowcase, ribs taut through your skin, chest heaving — and sana finally lowers her mouth to your cunt.

it’s the most instantaneous relief you’ve ever felt — you arch, try to press yourself closer, hiss at the pressure on your raw skin — but sana’s tongue is there to circle her clit, to flick it, to stroke broadly, lightly suck your clit into her mouth and scrape it with her teeth. you’ve been eaten out before, but never by somebody who really knew what they were doing, and it’s an entirely different kind of euphoria.

you barely last, but you’re miraculously supposed to — “can i cum?” you exhale, and sana only laughs against your cunt.

“yes,” she says, “but i’m not going to stop.”

you shatter, that’s the equivalency, that’s the intensity of it — and sana doesn’t stop, just pushes her tongue deeper, just sucks harder, just swallows what she can taste. it’s close to too much, straddling that line — she’s holding your thighs down after twenty minutes to stop you from closing them, forcing you to multiple orgasms you don’t think you’ll be able to have, so strong you’re still nearly sobbing from the pleasure of it — and sana finally acquiesces, slows her tongue, loosens her grip. sits up, sees you writhing on the sheets, panting and frustrated, and decides you’ve had enough.

“does it hurt?” sana asks gently, the tone instantly recognizable of one signaling an end rather than a continuation. you take a moment until you nod, bottom lip tight between your teeth. sana wraps a hand around your hip bone, presses flush to your back, your ass against her hips — and you hiss, the burn amplified against sana’s warm skin. but you don’t fight it. you’ve learned your lessons.

sana drops her lips to your ear, whispers, “shh,” and dips a hand casually between your legs, nudging your thighs open; you’re somewhat resistant until you realize sana’s intention, and then your knee slowly crooks up, spreading you open.

you’re still unbelievably wet, and your entire body trembles as sana’s fingers drift over your clit, light in their pressure, careful not to overstimulate. your chest flutters unevenly with every breath and the line of your spine sinks deeper and deeper into the curve of sana’s body, almost cradled by the time sana slips two fingers into your cunt.

you keep one hand tight around the pillowcase, the other in a fist and closed over your chest. you remember sana’s no-touching rule now, want to spare yourself any further punishment; it fills sana with a vicious type of satisfaction. one night. she almost laughs — you’d been so ready to obey from the moment you’d been dragged back to sana’s apartment, there’s no way you haven’t spent copious amounts of time being disappointed by boys with no imagination.

you’re cumming all over her hand, even without actually crossing that edge yet; your bottom lip is red and swollen, cheeks flushed. you’re still somewhat on your side, head resting on sana’s upper left arm, quiet sounds starting to build in your throat — sana curls her hand, grasps your chin somewhat roughly, fingers pressing to your lips.

“suck,” she says cooly, and you nearly choke on your moan, wrapping your mouth around sana’s fingers, tongue hot and wet. she’s still fucking you with her other hand, lazy and dismissive.

and then she pulls out, cum stringing from your cunt to her fingers, and finds your clit again, rubbing small circles until she catalogs your sensitive spots — you like long, quick strokes, from sana’s fingers to her palm, leaving you room to grind. it’s dirty, messy, and exactly what sana expects from you.

“sana,” you try to say around sana’s fingers. “can— can i—”

they’re muffled and almost impossible to distinguish, but sana understands regardless, smiles. “good girl,” she says. “cum for me.”

when you cum, it’s almost violent in its silence — your whole body tightens, rolling low in your stomach, and sana slips three fingers straight back into your cunt to feel it, the way you clench and throb and tremble — you whine around the fingers in your mouth, and sana relents there, drags them from your jaw to cup your breast, thumbing a nipple. but your breath stays trapped in your lungs for what seems like an impossibly long time, releasing in short, imperfect patterns.

it takes you awhile to come down — you drift further into bonelessness against sana’s body, and then you seem to enjoy being held — not quite comforted but appreciated. it’s so fitting of your personality that it only reads as endearing, rather than superficial and pretentious.

“feel better?” sana murmurs, pressing a kiss to your hair. it’s time for her to play her parts, the soft ones — it isn’t all about the aggression, the orders. you did a good job, and you’re allowed to be taken care of for it.

“mmm.” you can’t seem to manage words in response, too content and full. you’re falling asleep, but you can’t quite give in without an invitation — it’s obvious from the way you fight against it, keep lightly adjusting your hands, licking your lips.

“if you want to,” sana starts slowly, rubbing a palm gently across your side — the red lines from sana’s short nails still stand out against your skin from when she’d raked them down to hold your thighs — “you can stay here tonight.”

you open one eye, eyebrow sinking over it as you turn your head slightly. “here?” you ask, and it doesn’t come out with the tone sana expects it to — it isn’t here? this shithole? — it’s here as in your bed, here as in with you.

“yeah,” sana says. “here.”

you adjust slightly, more onto your back without the discomfort, now meeting sana’s gaze with both eyes. the look you’re wearing remains unreadable, exploratory. there’s something internal, a war, a warning.

and then you say, “can i borrow a t-shirt? and shorts?”

“depends,” sana says, ignoring her heartbeat. she’s lucky you’re here at all, but she won’t admit that until much, much later. “Are you going to complain about it if I spent less than a hundred dollars on it?”

you harrumph, rolling your eyes. “no. but i’d prefer pure cotton, otherwise i might break out in hives.”

your gazes lock once the rotation ends. sana stares, hard. you stare back harder.

“you’re joking, right?” sana finally asks, breaking the stalemate. she’s not sure what she’ll do if you say no — either die laughing or shove your underwear in your mouth, teach you another lesson.

but your lips quirk, and sana’s chest constricts a little less. “yes,” you say, amused. “believe it or not, i do have a sense of humor.”

“oh, i believe that,” sana says and shifts off the bed. “the entire evening before we got here was a joke.” she opens her middle drawer where she keeps her sleep shirts, tosses one randomly onto the bed behind her.

“ha-ha.”

even your sarcastic laughter is endearing — sana’s got to shake herself from that road before it leads somewhere dangerous. she pulls a black tank overhead, tugs her hair loose, and turns to find you gazing strangely at the shirt.

“what?” sana asks, frowning at you. everything about the scene in front of her is unexplored territory, no automatic intuition. “it’s clean.”

“it’s... cool,” you say slowly, as though you’re confused by your own opinion. you slip your arms through the sleeves, poke your head through the collar and straighten it out, looking down. “i like it.”

it’s just a white t-shirt with a print of a skull on it, flowers blooming from its sockets. but it’s probably wildly different from anything you ever wear, and that’s definitely the only reason sana says it. “you can keep it, if you want.”

“i couldn’t,” you say primly, but the devil blinks out of your eyes. “you own so little as it is.”

sana throws her head back and laughs, delighted by your bite. “you’re lucky the moment’s over,” she says, grinning, “or you’d be back on your knees.”

sana puts on friends in the background before the two of you sleep, gives you lotion and a cold-water bottle which you wrap your mouth around greedily — sana follows the arch of your throat, the movement of every swallow, thinks about wrapping her fingers around it — and you smirk as you lower the bottle, intuitive enough to connect those dots.

“maybe next time,” you say pointedly, and you don’t even stumble over your own admission. from once to a future in so short a period of time — sana wants to say some snarky, cocky remark: “one good bare-minimum fuck and you’re mine” or “guess money couldn’t buy you a vibrator that gives you orders”.

next time. that’s a fantasy sana lets wrap her up for a little too long to count as a casual silence.

“your ego is suffocating,” you say after a moment, your gaze fixated on the television, sinking into the pillows.

“coming from you, princess, i’ll take that as a compliment.”

you shoot sana a dirty look at the pet name, but it doesn’t stop you from falling asleep with your back pressed into sana’s chest, and it certainly doesn’t stop you from waking up with your head in the crook of sana’s neck.

and it definitely doesn’t stop her from keeping sana’s shirt.

you make it exactly thirty-four hours before you succumb to the new number in your phone.

“so, you want this to be a regular thing, huh?” sana asks, frustratingly casual as she leans against the booth of the bar, feet kicked out underneath the table and crossed at the ankles.

“i didn’t say that.”

“you didn’t have to.” she allows her stare to drop openly, trailing across the skin revealed by the low collar of your dress. it’s a very passively interesting observation, designed for power. like she’s allowed to look at you however she wants, whenever she wants to. “you invited me out for drinks. i’m not stupid.”

“fine,” you concede, because you’re not about to look like a fool for pride. that’s nayeon’s thing. “you were right. what you said to me at the party, before you even took me home. they don’t know.”

“but i do.” it isn’t a question.

your lip curls. “obviously.”

sana considers you, head tilted at an angle. “was any part of the other night too much for you?”

“no.” that’s a simple one to answer, and it’s make-or-break; you’re aware sana had gone easy on you. you shrug a shoulder. “i didn’t come close to my safe word, if that’s what you’re asking.”

oh, that’s the wrong thing to reveal — or very right, depending on how she’s looking at it; sana’s eyebrows are high, even though her surprise appears mild. something about the admission gets her mind racing, a mental highway on a road trip. everything spread out open and wide before her.

“are you seeing anyone else?” sana presses on, like a checklist she’s going through. “you fuck around with jay occasionally, right?”

“sometimes,” you say. “but he’s…” you stop, frowning. sana laughs at the expression alone.

“i get it,” she says, smirk nearly knocking itself out in egotism. “he’s no me.”

“arrogance doesn’t look good on you.”

“sweetheart,” sana says, reaches out and skims a finger across your wrist, “i think we both know that’s not true.”

there’s a party. there’s a lot of parties.

only now the two of you end in sana’s bed, your wrists tied behind your back and your tongue lapping desperately at sana’s cunt — you on your knees, sana pumping into you with a decently-sized-strap-on and hitting every perfect angle the boys can’t manage with their real dicks — sana, forcing you to bed until your throat is raw, holding you at an edge for over an hour — sana, using scissoring as a punishment, your cunt and inside thigh as something to grind and cum on, something to fuck and leave the next day. and it’s incredible.

you’re still punished fairly often — you can never seem to keep your sharp tongue tucked away, dropping remarks about how she’s fucking below your class, how letting sana touch you at all is an act of charity — and sana’s sinister smile stretches every time, fingers curling around your neck, flipping you onto your stomach, fisting your hair and tugging your head back as she sinks a dildo into you.

you’ve never felt so good in your life, never been so satisfied. you stay the night, and sometimes the two of you argue playfully and laugh until the sun starts to rise, even without sex. jay approaches you a few times with propositions and you pull out an endless arsenal of excuses — you use “i’m on my period” two weeks in a row, twelve days apart, and jay just whistles and nods seriously, like he understands.

you meet sana’s eyes across the yard, any yard. smile with a corner of your mouth. those are nights when sana lets things slip — lets you get away with a smart remark, a touch, an orgasm. those are the nights you look in the mirror and finally see someone you like.

nayeon interrupts you at the pool; you’re stretched out in a lawn chair in your bikini, sunglasses on and phone on silent. it’s one of the few activities where you can get away with stagnancy; it’s not that you’re lying down because the rest of your body’s too deliciously sore to do anything else, it’s that you’re tanning.

“y/n,” nayeon greets politely, dropping her purse near the chair next to you. “where did you disappear to last night?”

you think about keeping it a secret, but secrets only count as ammunition to the wealthy. moneys nothing — you’ve got tons of it. secrets can be used against you. so, you say, blithe and candid, “i’ve been fucking sana.”

you expect stunned silence, an open mouth, a wide-eyed disbelief. you expect sputtering and outrage. you expect a storm, expect it to get up and thunder straight out of the garden. what you don’t expect is nayeon to sigh like you’ve just told her something predictable and disappointing.

“of course, you have,” nayeon says, pinching the bridge of her nose with her eyes shut, as if the revelation had struck her with an instant headache. “i knew inviting sana a few weeks ago had been a bad idea. you’re exactly her type, and she said she’d been bored recently...”

“her type?” you repeat, surprised to find yourself jealous of the prospect of more, others. you’ve never been fucked like that — sana obviously knew what she was doing, but still, you like believing in a singularity between the two of you. like believing sana’s never enjoyed anyone else the way she indulges in you, in your fingers, in your mouth, in your cunt.

“beautiful, arrogant, dismissive, disinterested,” nayeon ticks off on her fingers, and then smiles brutally. “acts like nothing touches her but loves to beg to be touched.”

so, you have two options: the first, of course, is to listen to your impulses, to follow exactly what’s expected of you — curl a lip distastefully, turn up your nose, tell nayeon to get the hell out of your yard and go fuck her not-boyfriend in the missionary position for the third time this week. but you’ve realized you don’t want to do what’s expected of you unless you’re getting rewarded for it.

you roll your head back to center, too content for fake-spiteful arguments. “and how many orgasms have you faked this month, nayeon?”

“there’s no need to be so crass,” nayeon responds, falling for the bait. sometimes you’re not sure why the two of you tell each other anything at all, but then remember both of you are probably best friends or something. “it’s not as if i’m wrong.”

“no, just boring,” you say, propping up a knee. you’re playing your part perfectly, allowing your grin to develop that edge, shift to a smirk. “i think being her type is working out well for me so far.”

“for now,” nayeon says, narrowing her eyes to the hickey poking out of your bikini top. “but you’re selfish. we both know you don’t know how to share, y/n — and you aren’t going to own her, no matter how badly you’ll end up wanting to.”

that’s a hit, dead center, and it stings like one. finally, nayeon breaks through, finds your hot temper and irritation underneath the surface. “what’s that supposed to mean?” you snap, and your throat hardens uncomfortably at the reminder of sana’s t-shirt, carefully folded in a hidden corner of her dresser.

“i’ve known sana for years,” nayeon says, and now it’s about the shift of power — of knowing. “you think you’re the first person i’ve seen her ruin? she’s the best sex everyone who sleeps with her ever has. and none of them liked giving her up, either.”

“it’s just sex, nayeon, not some soulmate-affirming act that you clearly imagine it to be,” you respond, sitting up. suddenly the heat’s getting to you, your skin too warm and sticky. “she’s fucking me, and sometimes,” you emphasize deliberately for the lead-in, “i just want to fucking cum.”

you get up to leave, but you can’t be done, not when you haven’t ruined nayeon’s morning, not when you haven’t said anything that won’t take an expensive brunch to recover from. plus, you’ve left yourself the perfect doorway into the combination of intimate knowledge and brutality, and you’ll never waste that regardless of what it ruins.

“by the way,” you say, slipping your glasses up your forehead for the dramatic effect of direct eye contact, “the reason you don’t cum when mark fucks you is because you’re a lesbian. don’t take your sexual frustration out on me just because i know what i like, even if that is being tied up and choked.”

you almost consider feeling bad as you walk away, but your hips ache deliciously with every step and your skin burns, and you entirely forget to feel anything else.

the first time it happens, it’s an accident.

you’re shopping online. it’s not unusual in itself. but you start noticing clothes you wouldn’t have noticed before, start thinking about how good they’d look on someone else. someone who spends most nights fucking you absolutely senseless, and maybe deserves a thank-you once in a while.

it’s a black leather bomber jacket from golden goose with a fur collar and a brown-lined pocket on the left side, giving it casual, asymmetrical appeal — and then you’re thinking about sana, thinking about her motorcycle, thinking about how hot she’d be wearing it. and then it’s in your cart, and you’re checking out, and you don’t even blink at the total of twenty-five hundred dollars. you even pay for expedited shipping.

your parents are hosting an event, and because you’re bored of getting what you want when you want it, you invite sana.

no underwear, sana texts. understood?

yes.

you follow through — hope sana doesn’t force you to drip down yourself all night, hops you get the smallest semblance of relief — but the minute sana arrives, you throw that wish straight out the window. kick it out of the neighborhood. fling it straight into space.

sana’s dress isn’t designer, but it might as well be from how incredible she looks in it.

she’s left her long hair wild and loose, but the kind of wild that jumps from models and fashion campaigns — natural, a pseudo-effortlessness. her eyeliner’s dark, gold eyeshadow fading into a smokey eye, and her lips are a stunning burgundy that matches the color of her dress, which is a deep v-neck, short-sleeved maxi dress, though the dress itself stops at mid-thigh and only continues past in a sheer lace with a leaf-like pattern, slit up the side. there’s a thin gold lining around the waist, almost like a belt, and her heels are a beige with gold straps, putting her close to six feet.

the longer lace of the dress billows behind her as she walks. several people are staring. you’re the only one of them that matters. or, at least, you’d better be.

“(insert affectionate pet name),” sana greets, smirk destructively wicked. “thanks for the invite. shall we shake hands? you can test the firmness of my grip.”

you laugh unexpectedly; you’re very familiar with the strength of sana’s grip already, pinning your wrists to the mattress. “no, thanks,” you say, and you need to touch sana right now or you’ll die. “a hug is customary.”

“oh, is it.”

“yes.”

“well then,” sana says, and wraps her arms around you, lips just above your ear. she fingers the material of your gold dress — apparently, you’re having a similar effect on her. “you look beautiful, baby. there’s a reason i’ve always called you (insert affectionate pet name).”

it’s the first time she uses a pet name that isn’t princess or a sarcastic sweetheart — it’s uttered too affectionately, cradled in her mouth. and now you know why, knows why you’d always felt teased, out of the loop, on the wrong side of the joke — because sana had been calling you beautiful all along.

your heart thunders around your chest, the storm stronger in your body than in the sky.

“come with me,” you say, and take sana’s hand.

sana only stares at it. and stares, and stares, and stares.

“i can return it if you don’t like it,” you finally say, voice more uncertain than you’re used to. it’s hard to read sana; it always is. she’s just sitting on the corner of your bed, the leather jacket held delicately in your hands.

sana’s gaze darts to you, flicks back, can’t decide where to land. “you bought this for me?”

“yes,” you say dryly. “i’ve heard that its customary for people to sometimes give gifts to other people, as a token of appreciation.”

that’s a smart remark that gets sana to shut her mouth, fall into her defaults. she levels you with a look. “y/n,” she says flatly. “how much did you spend on this?”

“like nothing.”

at that, sana sighs heavily, still stroking her hands over the leather. “so, at least a few grand.”

“almost nothing. like i said.”

there’s an eyeroll torn between exasperation and affection, and you don’t think sana even knows which emotion won. “you can’t buy yourself out of paying for shit like that later, so watch it.”

“that’s hardly fair,” you whine, aiming for endearing over irritating. “we haven’t started officially. this doesn’t count. i’m giving you a gift.”

sana doesn’t hide her smile, but she doesn’t seem like she’s openly displaying it, either. “come here,” she says, extending a hand, and you take it. “are you wearing underwear?”

“no,” you say.

“good.” she doesn’t take advantage of that yet; only tugs you close and kisses you. “thank you.”

it feels right.

she eats you out in the bathroom during a dinner toast — you’d been so wet all night you’d been afraid of ruining your dress, left a damp spot on the fabric, but after this it’s a likely possibility — and leaves lipstick kisses peppered over the insides of her thighs. she makes you beg her to cum, even though the chance of someone overhearing is high, and you can’t stop yourself even if you want to, sana’s name falling breathily from your mouth in between “please”, “fuck”, and “god”.

“slut,” sana murmurs darkly after, kissing you until you taste yourself on sana’s tongue.

later on, your parents tell you they think sana’s a wonderful girl with her head on straight, and it’s nice of you to have friends of different backgrounds.

you’re absolutely right, you agree. i needed to expand my horizons.

you start to buy sana stuff. clothes, shoes, parts for her motorcycles. “it made me think of you”, you’ll say, and sana doesn’t protest, just regards you with a fond sort of disapproval, like she knows exactly what the truth of it is even if you don’t know yourself.

you and nayeon finally get around to your expensive apology brunch, a full two months after your original disagreement. the two of you had seen each other several times since then, but it’s never officially resolved until brunch.

“still seeing her?” nayeon asks, far more casual now that time has passed.

“she’s interesting,” is all you say, fronting the same mild disinterest you’re so accustomed to wearing. you run your fingers through your bangs, still staring at your menu like it’s the most compelling thing in the room.

“she fucks you half to death,” nayeon replies flatly, not even bothering for eye contact; such a bold-faced understatement is hardly worthy of it. “you can barely sit, y/n.”

the corner of your mouth twitches. “and what would you know about that?”

nayeon’s lips curl into a half-smirk, amused by the ease of the admission. at least she’s a girl who picks her battles. “admittedly, not a lot,” she allows. “but i am observant.”

christ, you think; rich people are all so fucking dramatic. maybe sana’s right about them. “and what have you observed?”

“well,” nayeon says, “you like her,” and somehow that isn’t at all what you expect her to say.

you drop your menu against the table, blinking. “excuse me?”

nayeon only tuts under her breath, too smart to be fooled by indignant denial. “please, y/n. it’s obvious. you’re either with her or you’re thinking about her, and that’s it.”

she’s proud of herself, you realize. proud she’s pinned something down that definitely isn’t there, proud she’s exposed you for settling low. it has that edge, the comment, not like a casual crush but a trap, a downfall. as if she’s saying, “of course that’s your type.”

you want to slap her for it.

“as i just said,” you state calmly, saving face, “she’s interesting. she isn’t like us. you’re her friend, and i know you admire her for that exact reason.”

“i do,” nayeon agrees, setting her menu down candidly. “but i don’t think about having sex with her, and i definitely don’t spend thousands of dollars buying her clothes, or parts for her motorcycles, or whatever else her heart desires.”

well, fuck.

nayeon and sana are friends. that’d been the original context of everything.

“look,” nayeon says, sensing your obvious panic. “i’m sorry for what i said. i think you’re good for her.” she pauses, presses her lips together. “actually, i think you’re good for each other.”

it’s a strange change of heart. “why?”

“she’s... calmer,” nayeon says slowly, clearly figuring out her words as she speaks them. “stable, i suppose. i always used to feel as if — as if she were searching for something and never finding it. she was so restless. some days, i swore she was on the verge of asking me to buy her a plane ticket to anywhere that wasn’t here and run away.”

“and now?” you ask, just to have the proof yourself.

“now,” nayeon says, “i think she’d rather be with you.”

(“by the way,” nayeon tells you as the two of you are walking to your cars, “you were right. i’m definitely a lesbian.”

“what made you realize?”

“well, i came when momo fucked me.”

“that’ll do it.”)

it’s a theory to test. a hypothesis.

you spend the day with sana in her workshop, asking her questions about her builds, her modifications, how each part fits into the whole. sana dutifully answers every single one, even lets her help where it’s applicable, tightening bolts and passing tools.

you meet mina there, too — mina’s younger sister — who only takes a single glance at you and says unprompted, “oh, y/n!”

“yes?” you respond, in obvious confusion.

“sana talks about you,” mina provides context. “she talks about you constantly.”

“i will crack this wrench on your skull,” sana says cheerfully. “permanent brain damage.”

“i’m just saying—”

“get out.”

she shakes her head after, tosses you a sly look, and the lack of embarrassment is startling, as if she thinks it’s mutual between them. your heart rattles in your chest, something under lock and key.

you’d loved it. you’d loved hearing proof of the possibility of being more, just as you’d loved hearing it from nayeon a couple days previously.

it isn’t quite terrifying, but it’s enough for a bad decision.

it’s another friday night, and another boring event.

you don’t invite sana. there’s a reason for that.

your proposal is anything but subtle; you eye jay up and down, his disheveled blond hair and obvious muscle, and decide he’ll do. you’ll prove your points. you take a sip of your champagne and say, “we should have sex.”

he blinks, lips curling surreptitiously. “uh,” he says, “what?”

“do you want to, or not?”

“i mean, yeah,” he says, and opens and closes his mouth without words, fumbling over himself. “i just— i wasn’t expecting you to ask. it’s been a while—”

“whatever.” you down the rest of your glass, set it on the tray of a passing server. you nod your head to the house behind you. “let’s go.”

“now?”

“now,” you say, wondering why it’s so hard for him to comprehend, or if he’s always been this stupid.

he has enough sense to follow you into the house, up the stairs, shut the door behind them — you run your hands through his hair with purpose, curl your fingers and tug; if it were sana, you’d already be spun around and bent over, underwear bunched around your knees. but he doesn’t seem to notice or care, letting you take whatever control you want, passive and pliant beneath your hands. you kiss him, and all you think about is how his mouth is too rough, how his tongue moves sloppily in your mouth. you hadn’t realized how messy boys were, how little finesse mattered to them.

you strip your own shirt overhead, and his follows — you go to the button of his jeans, work the zipper down, feel him hard through his boxers; he’s trying to do the same thing to you, but he’s clearly not sure how to match your pace, or why it’s being set in the first place. it’s not difficult for him to get hard. all you had to do was take your shirt off.

he kicks off his jeans, getting into the desperation of it even if he doesn’t know where it’s coming from - slips his boxers down, rolls a condom on - you tug your own underwear down your legs. he kneels in front of you, rough fingers rubbing your cunt — you get impatient, gesture him over you, to get it over with—

“i’m trying,” he says, bewildered by your demeanor, “but, y/n— you aren’t wet enough. i— i can’t.”

you touch yourself. he’s right. it’s like you’re the opposite of horny — like you’re mummified or something. that’s how dry you are. for a moment he just waits — he’d never force himself inside of you like this, you hate lube, and either way—

“forget it.” you shove him off of her, sit up, grab your underwear off the floor and get dressed with an increasing urgency, a frustration. “whatever. i’m leaving.”

“leaving?” he repeats, blinking owlishly. “y/n, you like, live here.”

“i don’t care.”

he pauses, examining you. he’s not the most sensitive of guys, but he isn’t really an asshole, either. he knows something’s off. “are you okay?”

unfortunately, you’re not really in the mood to reward basic decency from a man. “get off my bed,” is all you say in response, and he scrambles up as the door shuts behind you.

sana answers on the third ring. “hey, babe.”

it’s not like it’s an unusual greeting, but with the week you’ve had — nayeon’s comment, mina’s slip, your failed encounter with jay — your heart is beating against your skull, and it’s the first thing you’ve felt in days. “hey. can you pick me up?”

there’s a background clatter — something heavy and metallic; she’s probably working on one of her own projects, you realize with a pang of guilt, but sana beats you to the punch before you can take it back. “yeah,” she says, more alert. “are you okay?”

“i just want to see you.” it’s the best you can do.

a subtle pause of contemplation. “okay,” sana says, softening so noticeably that you almost cry. “i’ll meet you at the end of the block.”

sana passes the fancy, flashy cars parked outside of her house; she pulls to stop between an audi and a tesla, where you’re standing with your arms crossed over your body, waiting. she plants her feet solidly against the pavement, lifts her helmet off, and her muted concern is instantly visible; she eyes you up and down, as if checking you for signs of injury. it’s real emotion, genuine care, and it’s almost too much.

she’s wearing the leather jacket you had bought her, that’s the first thing you comprehend. despite her many protests, despite her many complaints — she’s settled snugly into it like a first skin, molded perfectly to every curve. your mouth feels thick and heavy with paint, your head full of roses.

“what the hell happened to you?” sana asks bluntly, but you only grab the second helmet and slip onto the bike behind her without giving her an answer. it’s infinitely easier than straddling jay has ever been, and you’re eased just by the closeness, the smell of the leather and jasmine of sana’s hair.

“i don’t want to be here,” is all you say in response, wrapping your arms around sana’s waist.

“okay,” sana says, and it’s enough.

sana gets you inside the apartment, tosses her keys on the entryway table, and leads you to where she’s most comfortable. the bed’s there, unmade and inviting, but you recognize the sheets as fresh. you think that says something. that she knows.

“what d’you want, baby?” sana murmurs, captures your mouth in a kiss. she curls her fingers through your hair, brushing it away from your cheek and behind your ear, meets your stare too directly and openly when she pulls away. not a challenge, but a question. “because i can fuck you, if that’s what you’re here for. i can punish you like you’ve done something bad. did you do something bad, y/n?”

“no,” you say, but you’re shuddering, drawing closer. you think of jay, think of his mouth on yours, think of the harsh angles of his muscles and how wrong he felt on top of you. your body rolls hot, every inch aflame. you can’t lie to sana. “i don’t know. yes.”

but that’s the thing about sana — “no”, “maybe”, “yes” isn’t an answer, only a guidance, and she seems to know what you want better than you know it yourself.

“what’d you do, baby?” she asks softly, slips her hand down the front of your jeans, lightly touches you over your underwear, and your breath hitches.

“i tried to— tried to fuck jay,” you whisper, and — not unprecedented in its entirety, just this scenario — wrap your arms around sana’s neck, rest your foreheads together. “but i— he— it just... didn’t work. it— i couldn’t.”

sana’s touch slows, becomes a feather-brush against the fabric over your clit. she has her eyes open, brow slightly furrowed, and then she leans in, catches your lips with her own — kisses you, tender and concerned. she’s not you, doesn’t have a possessive streak, doesn’t run at the first spark of jealousy.

“you couldn’t?” she repeats, removes her hand, cups your jaw instead.

“i don’t want him,” you confess honestly, shocked to find yourself trembling in sana’s arms. “it’s like— like i don’t want anyone anymore. anyone but you. and i— i knew this was just sex, i know you’re not— not mine, but i—”

sana brings a finger to your lips, silences you gently; you can’t tell if it’s a game or if it’s you both, can’t tell if it’s lust or if it’s love, but then sana drops her arm, murmurs, “i can be yours.” her eyes dart to your mouth and back. “but that makes you mine, too.”

her tongue slides briefly over her bottom lip, nerves of admission. your heart lifts out of fog, find your blood. you whisper, “okay.”

sana starts to unbutton your white blouse, every movement careful and precise. it’s not that it’s slower than you’re used to, but it’s softer; she slips her hands underneath the fabric, drags it over your shoulders and off. your black jeans follow the same arc, boots kicked off, and sana slides her fingers down the front of your underwear.

“sorry,” you unstick your voice from your throat, still deep in your own head and simultaneously so far out of it. “i might not be— i want it, even if I’m not—”

half of sana’s mouth slips up at a corner, understanding the collision of your thoughts. “baby,” she whispers against your lips, “you’re dripping.”

and as if to prove her point, the fingers ghosting over her clit dip lower, slip straight into you, and fuck, sana isn’t wrong, isn’t exaggerating — you’re so wet you can hear sana fucking her, slow and passive and deliberate, a gentleness present that you’ve never felt previously. and then sana removes her hand, sucks her own fingers into her mouth, eyelashes fluttering — her lips are pink and shiny when she removes them; you watch her cheeks hollow, want to die on the sharp curve of her cheekbones — pushes you lightly back against the mattress, tugs your underwear off, shifts down between your legs, spreads your thighs apart.

she wipes her fingers against her bedspread, and then she pulls at the hair tie around her wrist, loops her hair into a loose bun before settling on her stomach. you’re already trembling — it’s like the first time all over again, like you’re waiting on your knees for sana to bring a belt to your ass, only you’re bare on your back with sana’s mouth hovering over your cunt and a soft, meticulous tongue.

sana looks up at you, meets your eyes, too tender to pretend to be anything else. “you can touch my hair,” she murmurs, and you almost cum from that allowance alone.

she licks the length of your cunt, tongue pressing briefly inside of you before she parts her lips over your clit, almost like she’s kissing it. sana’s never eaten you out like this before — there’s no power dynamic at play, no edging, no game — she wants you to feel good, wants you to cum into her mouth and all over her bed.

she builds into it attentively, sucks on your clit and scrapes it gently with her teeth, and then settles back into long, broad strokes. her arms are situated around your thighs, holding her open, accessible, and you can’t stop watching her — she keeps her eyelids shut, reveling in the taste, like she’d swallow all of you if she could. it’s so erotic, so sensual in its simplicity, that after you release a tiny moan in your throat, your hands finally — finally — find the top of her head, curling into her hair.

sana only smiles, murmurs hot against your cunt, “good girl.”

i want to touch you, you say after breaking every rule. but tonight’s different, and even sana can tell. please, you say, and sana allows it.

you end up grinding against sana’s thigh, three fingers buried inside of her, sana canting her hips with every stroke, chasing the pressure of your palm against her clit. sana clenches down on your fingers so hard it almost hurts until you finally slide them out, soaking and circling sana’s clit instead, your own cum smearing up sana’s thigh.

sana moans your name as she cums, and in your daze you only experience the sound as an alarm, a trigger — you hit the edge, pressing yourself even harder into sana’s thigh, your own orgasm hitting suddenly. and then pause, just as sana does.

“did you just cum?” sana asks delicately, but she leaves room for a hint of warning in case you’re in the mood for that particular game.

you are. you are. you are. “yes,” you whisper, face still content in the crook of sana’s neck. “punish me.”

there’s no calling what it’ll be — it changes based on sana’s whims, the situation, what the two of you have done leading up to the offense. tonight, you’re on your knees with you face pressed flat into the sheets, hands bound behind your back and resting against your lower spine, and sana’s pounding into her with a strap-on — it’s one the two of you had bought for the aesthetic, less access to sana herself but comfortable, similarly cut to boy shorts, silky and hot — your hair’s wrapped in sana’s hand, your head jerking with every thrust — she purposely avoids your g-spot until she hears your moans shifting from breathy to agitated, the pleasure too good without being enough, and then she spreads your knees even further, angles your hips—

“cum,” sana orders, fingertips digging sharply into your hips.

blood pounds in your ears, in your neck, in your clit — you cum so powerfully she almost forces sana out a little, but sana doesn’t let up, keeps her pace and fucks you just as hard through your orgasm. doesn’t stop. doesn’t stop through the second, or the third, and your cunt is so raw you can’t believe you’ll ever cum again.

you do, but you don’t remember it.

you wake up hours later, groggily blinking your eyes open, and shift a fraction of an inch before realizing the dildo’s still inside of you, and sana’s asleep, buried in you to the hilt.

you cum almost immediately at the realization alone, clit throbbing, chest expanding and fracturing — you gasp; sana’s fingers tighten around your wrist, smile spreading against the back of your neck — and she pumps her hips slowly as you convulse.

“yeah,” she says after, finally slipping out, and the emptiness leaves you panting and ruined. “that’s what i was waiting for.”

you can’t really move in the morning; sana holds you up in the shower as she massages shampoo into your hair, legs trembling under her weight.

“i think we’ll take it easy for a few days,” sana says, clearly delighted with her work.

“fuck you.”

“we can talk about that as an alternative.”

you wind up curled on sana’s couch afterward, mug of tea in your hand with the tv open to netflix. sana’s shuffling around in the kitchen, more inclined to coffee. you hear the drip, drip into the pot, and then sana appears in the doorway, leaning against the frame.

so, you ask her, “can i stay here for the weekend?”

sana observes you for a moment; there’s no risk of her saying no, but there’s something else. “sure,” she says, and the other shoe drops. “if you tell me what you’re really doing here.”

it’s an out, it’s a plea, it’s a bargain — it’s not strange of her to ask. you’ve got an entire mansion to share with only two other people, and instead of losing yourself in its rooms, lounging by its pool, you’re hiding out in sana’s tiny apartment.

i love you, that’s what you should say in response. i love you, that’s what sana had meant when she asked. it’s not quite the time.

instead, you look away — focus on the coffee ring staining the wooden table, something familiar and worn and signaling presence, life. it’d drive your mother crazy. you say, “i’m just so fucking bored of it all.” it isn’t the whole truth, but it isn’t a lie, either. “i don’t want to sit there quietly and be polite and listen to people who think they’re important try to convince other people of their importance. i don’t want to drink red wine and talk about wall street and act like i’m above it all. i’m not. i’m not.” you say the last note with a wavering finality, daring to meet sana’s eyes.

you find her sympathetic, softer. sana says gently, “are you trying to convince me, or yourself?”

the sting of tears comes as a surprise; it’s not a reaction you predict from yourself at the question. but it’s always something deeper. you say, “i wasn’t the nicest to you.”

“we were having fun,” sana shrugs off, unaffected. “i wasn’t the nicest to you, either.”

“yeah, but i liked it.”

“so, did i.” she gets a smile out of you at that. “look — being a pretentious, wealthy asshole is kind of in your blood, y/n. i don’t think we’re ever going to work the literary snobbish side out of you, or how you frown every time you see pleather.” you grimace at the word itself, entirely proving sana’s point, and sana fights back a laugh. “but i know what else is there, too. i know everything beyond that. i know that you secretly love extra-salty mcdonald’s french fries, and you wear my ten-dollar t-shirt to sleep almost every night you’re home. i know your favorite movies are actually titanic and notting hill, and you only say it’s casablanca to get people off your back. and i know you want to do more with your life, and it frustrates you that you’ve been so confined to your lifestyle that you don’t know what more is.”

it’s all completely accurate, and it’s the revelation of the details sana’s kept about you — stored away and filed, labeled as fragile, important — that finally bursts the words into a river. “i love you,” you confess, like you’ll pour and not stop. you’ve never known the feeling, how it consumes and creates and crucifies.

“i know that, too,” sana replies, rolling her eyes harmlessly, and you’re surprised to find you smiling. “spending money is your love language, baby. you haven’t been very subtle about it.”

you’re always blindsided by people who know her feelings before she does. “what?”

“y/n,” sana says patiently, “you’ve spent about ten thousand dollars on me in the past month alone. and i know it wasn’t a thank-you for the many orgasms. it’s because you were thinking about me.”

you reach for one of sana’s couch pillows, bring it to your chest, and bury your face in it without a word, absolutely mortified. sana’s laughter echoes out, and you raise it again, halfway between a glare and a bargain. “what the fuck is a love language?”

“how you express your affection or whatever,” sana says, setting her mug on the coffee table and squeezing in next to you. too close. “there’s like, five i think. and yours is definitely gift-giving.”

“fuck.” it’s not really an argument, and sana seems entertained by the crumbling of walls, one arm resting over the back of the couch as she turns to face you. you ask, “so, what’s yours?”

“isn’t it obvious?”

“maybe if i knew what the others were,” you point out. “now who’s pretentious?”

sana’s eyes flash, slip to the hint of red. she smiles with her teeth and says, “acts of service and physical touch are mine. they go pretty hand-in-hand, don’t you think?”

you think of all the time sana’s spent learning every inch of your skin, not like worship but like sacrament — leaving fingerprint-bruises that ache deliciously to the touch, dusting your mouth like birthing constellations, rising oceans — touching you after with hands softer than the brown of her eyes, tracing your veins, charting course — your spine blends into a canyon — there’s been a journey here, there’s been an atonement — sana leans in, covers your mouth with her own, kisses you too tenderly for your mind to keep up with.

it all falls away, goes blissfully blank. maybe that’d been the sign all along.

“i love you,” sana murmurs over her lips, eyelids still shut, and bumps your foreheads together. “even if you are a pretentious bitch whose ringtone is river flows in you.”

“i love you,” you say in response, smiling, your palm cupping her cheek, “even if you are an arrogant asshole who thinks arrested development is the greatest sitcom of all time.”

“you just hate it because they’re basically you.”

“shut up.”

in the end, you’ve got enough money to run you both away, as long as the two of you are together.

“anywhere you want,” you say, tangled up with her in bed.

“you know,” sana says with a smile, brushing her thumb across your bottom lip, “i’m actually happy right where i am.”

1K notes · View notes

to-read-is-to-dream · 10 months ago

Text

Pieces of Greece | KNJ & KSJ

Pairing: Kim Seokjin x Kim Namjoon x reader Genre: smut, a little fluff, a whole lot of bickering AU: established relationship, fwb to lovers Wordcount: 17,100 on the dot Summary: After the events during Christmas in the Swiss mountains, your boyfriend Namjoon wants to go to Greece for his birthday. And, of course, another surprise in the form of Kim Seokjin. Warnings: There's. So. Much. Smut. Plane sex, voyeurism, exhibitionism, Namjoon loves to watch but this time he gets to participate. ice play, threesomes the entire time. DVP fun time, creampie, oral in every which way, unprotected sex, it goes on. mxm moments that make my heart happy. IT'S SMUT WITH SOME PLOT OKAY. Rating: M / 18+ AN: Sooooooooooooooo....Many many many many months ago, someone asked if there'd ever be a sequel. i joked there would be a summer vacation. then summer happened and nothing was written. Then I met my favorite @echotoyou and well, they said they loved Swiss Miss and I mentioned the thought of a sequel and they got excited and then Namjoon's birthday was coming up and i thought fuck it and THEY ASKED FOR MOST OF THE SMUT IN THIS OKAY. so this is for my baby starcandy. i love you so much, i hope you enjoy. Thank you to my lovely @theharrowing for beta-reading and @classicscreations for the banner/divider. Also tagging @simp47koreancrackheads for reasons. Enjoy!!! 💜Masterlist | AskBox | AO3

When Namjoon brought up the idea of an end of summer vacation for his birthday, you were hesitant at first. Last time you let him plan a vacation, he dragged you to the Swiss mountains and it was miserable.

Well…not all of it was miserable.

Seokjin being your Christmas present made up for the freezing mountain getaway.

It’s been almost nine months since then. Seokjin’s been away filming and being a gorgeous model, but you both still kept in contact. The three of you agreed it’d be okay to send photos of you in lingerie sets, Namjoon taking it a step further to send videos of you riding his cock, begging to come. Seokjin would send videos back, specifically to you, of his hand stroking his cock until he was a moaning mess, coming all over himself.

The two of you met up with him a few times since Christmas. Once in February, once in April, and the last time being very briefly in July when Namjoon watched on as Seokjin fucked you so ridiculously that you squirted all over the hotel bed while he erupted inside of you.

As far as you were concerned, your relationship with Namjoon was technically still monogamous. At least, until Seokjin became involved and suddenly he was the added friend with benefits for you. Namjoon and Seokjin never got involved with one another; your boyfriend only ever watching on as his best friend fucked you sensless, and fucking you right after so your last orgasm was from the man you loved.

You understood Namjoon loved to watch. Every time you’d look over at him slowly rubbing his hard cock, either with his hand coated in your arousal or with your underwear, his eyes would be watching the faces you’d make in pleasure or the way Seokjin’s cock pounded into you. But there was always a moment where it felt like he wanted to be involved. You’ve tried to ask, but could never find a way to bring it up.

So you agreed to the trip, hoping you’d get the chance to ask at some point.

“Joon, what’d the attendant say?” Your boyfriend makes his way back to where you’re sitting in the terminal, wearing a long summer dress with thin straps. Your flight’s been delayed an hour at this point, and you’re feeling just a tad bit suffocated in this airport that conveniently has the air conditioning down for maintenance.

“Good news and bad news.” He sighs, plopping down in the seat next to you, “which do you want first?”

“Always start with the bad.”

“Bad news is it’s another ‘forty-five minutes at least’ until we can board.” He pauses for your groan of frustration, fanning yourself with the book cover of some nonsense romance book you found in the gift shop.

“And the good?”

“The good,” he smiles, handing you the boarding passes, “there aren’t a lot of people on our flight anyway, and the girl thought I was cute so we got upgraded to first class for free.”

Your eyes barely glance at the passes with the upgraded seat locations on them, instead finding their way to the female attendant that had her eyes on your boyfriend. Namjoon might not mind sharing you with another man, but you can’t say the same about you sharing Namjoon with another woman.

“Y/n. Don’t give her that look.”

“I’m not giving her a look.”

“Yes you are. You’re giving her that look at my man one more time and I’ll end your happiness look.”

“No I’m no— wait. I have a look like that?” You look at Namjoon with wide eyes, a grin slowly creeping across your face. “That’s so cool. Is it easily readable? Do I have others?”

The girl is long forgotten about as you see Namjoon’s beautiful dimples appear with his smile as he leans closer to whisper in your ear.

“Yeah. You make some other ones. Like when you’re about to come all over me. When I’ve fucked you so hard that you’re about to black out. The face you make when you realize you’ve taken every inch of me is my favorite, though.”

Your face flushes in heat as you sit completely still, eyes staring straight ahead. You hear him chuckle next to you before kissing your temple, leaning back in his seat with an arm resting against the back of yours. The goosebumps on your skin and the back of your neck raise with every pass his fingers make across your shoulder and back. You know it’s for comfort, but it feels like the best kind of torture.

Shockingly, the wait time is far less than forty-five minutes before you’re one of the first groups to board, letting Namjoon hand over the boarding passes to the attendant. She gives him a big smile and flirty eyes and you have to fight yourself to not give her whatever look Namjoon was talking about. You’re about to spend ten hours on a plane, two weeks in Greece, and potentially the rest of your life with this man. She will be left behind at this terminal; she is no threat.

If anything, she’s a gift to this world. The first class seats are amazing in comparison to the main cabin seats Namjoon originally booked. You immediately claim the cubby-like seat next to the window, Namjoon sitting in the cubicle parallel to yours. The flight attendant left you both pillows, blankets, a bottle of what deemed fancy water and snacks already laid out for each of you.

“Is this what Jin experiences with being famous? Because if so, one of us needs to get on it, stat, Joon. Probably you. Make an onlyfans.” You giggle when he ignores you, his face taking a turn at going flush with heat.

You don’t tease further, getting comfortable in your little bed for the next ten hours. You poke the buttons to make the bed come out from under your feet before returning it to a sitting position and pulling the partition down between you and your boyfriend’s seats.

“Hi.” You smile at him while he sorts out both of your bags, pulling out your phone charger and handing it to you. “Thank you, Joonie.” You lean across the divider to give him a kiss, laughing when you try to pull back, only to have a giant hand cradle the back of your neck, tugging you back against his lips.

“I love you, baby.” He whispers, finally pulling away when the surge of other passengers begin to board the plane. You quickly say it back, full love-sick grin on display for him.

God, you really do love him.

Halfway through the flight, you’re being nudged awake, pulled from an amazing dream or memory - you can’t tell anymore - of you and Namjoon. Your headphones are slowly pulled off your head as you groggily turn over to find Namjoon leaning through the divider with a smirk.

“What?” You grumble, wiping your eyes.

“You were moaning my name.”

“What?” You were moaning in your dream, but surely not in real life? On a plane?

“Bathroom in five minutes.” Is all he says before sliding the divider back up. All you hear is quiet rustling until you see his top half making its way to the first class bathrooms.

He can’t be serious.

He can’t.

While you love the control Namjoon has over you, and you both share an openness to exploring new kinks and sexual experiences, this wasn’t on either of your lists.

You watch the time on your phone move slowly, one minute down.

You shouldn’t do this.

Two minutes down.

You’ll get caught.

Three minutes.

You’ll be banned from flying. And how will you get back home if so? A ship of some sort?

Four.

But he’s waiting for you. Possibly hard and you’re soaked from your dream.

Five.

You tuck your phone under your pillow, slowly crawling out of your cubicle and tiptoeing your way to the front. Luckily first class only has about eight seats and everyone seems to be sound asleep as you reach the bathroom door, giving one small secret knock. The door unlocks and you creep it open, sneaking your way in.

“Holy fuck, it’s huge.” You whisper, eyes scanning the bigger than normal airplane bathroom. There’s enough space to have a moderately small sized counter and an actual sink. And enough space for your boyfriend to stand up tall without banging his head on the ceiling.

“I feel like I should make a joke there, but we have limited time. Turn and bend. Now.” He quietly growls. It’s only then you notice his hardened length in his hand, slowly being pumped as he waits for you to follow instructions.

“Sir, yes sir.” You quip, ignoring his glare as you turn around and brace yourself against the counter. He parts your legs with his feet, a hand grabbing your waist when you momentarily lose balance.

“Remember. Not a sound, okay?” He whispers against your ear, tongue tracing down your neck. You quickly nod, skin shivering as he pulls the hem of your dress up, bringing the fabric to the front and giving it to you to hold against your stomach. Your underwear is dropped past your knees and you quickly step one foot out so you can freely move.

He wastes no time smacking your ass once, grabbing at the meaty flesh right after. You fight back the yelp, covering your mouth as you watch his intense gaze through the mirror. His eyes are glued to your ass while he massages it, watching in awe as your arousal pools at your entrance.

“Fuck, I love how ready you are for me all the time, baby.” He groans, lining your hips up with his, gliding his cock along your folds. You bite the inside of your cheek to not make a noise.

“Stop that.” The hand on your hip slides up and around to your neck, pulling you up to his chest. “Don’t bite the inside of your cheek, it’ll get infected.”

“Then don’t tease me.” You rasp, voice straining when his grip tightens around your neck.

“If you insist.” He gives one bite to your neck before letting you go and bending you forward again. He gives no warning as he realigns himself, pushing past your entrance in one go.

You let out a silent scream, covering your mouth again with your free hand as you practically hug the sink. There’s no hesitation when he starts pounding into you, both of you a mess of silent moans.

“Come back up here.” He groans, pulling you back up by your arms. “I think it’s me that has to be careful about sounds, baby. How are you always so fucking tight?”

“Feels so good.” You gasp, fighting the moan building in your throat when he kisses your neck.

He’s about to respond when there’s a small amount of turbulence, causing him to thrust even deeper into you. One of your hands flies to your mouth, followed quickly by him biting your neck.

Namjoon removes your hand from your mouth, placing his there instead, snaking his fingers past your lips and making you suck. “Get yourself off on my cock, baby. We don’t have time.” You whine, your fingers quickly finding your clit and rubbing.

Another little bout of turbulence and his cock being buried even deeper inside of you makes you fight against the urge to scream around his fingers, walls clenching as you come around his cock. He comes seconds later, deep inside, holding you close while his lips leave feather kisses across your skin.

You’re both silent after, his cock remaining tucked deep within your walls as his hands rub up and down your sides realizing you have another five hours before landing. The kiss he places on your shoulder tells you he’s having the same thought.

“Need help?” He asks in a hushed whisper. You shake your head, letting him pull out. It’s almost awkward having to move around one another to clean up, but Namjoon makes sure to give you his dimpled smile and a quick kiss every passing until he’s ready to go back, leaving you to finish up in peace.

The rest of the flight was normal. Half the time you were asleep, the other half playing phone games with Namjoon or listening to music or watching a movie while he was reading.

When you landed, Namjoon was quick to grab your carry on and usher you off the plane, almost running to baggage claim.

“Jooooooon, our bags aren’t going to magically appear the second we get to baggage claim. They have to unload the plane first.”

“I know, I know. But…I have a surprise for you.” Namjoon grins, pulling you past baggage claim to where people are waiting for their loved ones to emerge.

And that’s when you swear your heart stops for a moment.

Kim Seokjin.

In Greece.

“Jin?!” You accidentally shout. In hindsight, you’ll understand why Namjoon grabbed your bags and didn’t let you carry anything. You would’ve dropped it all or thrown it across the building as you ran up to your friend and jumped into his awaiting embrace.

“Oh my god, you’re here?! Why are you here?” you start rambling off nonsense, speaking into his neck as he hugs you, holding you in the air with his arms holding just below your ass. “How have you been? How was the movi–”

“Princess, slow down!” He laughs, finally placing you back on your feet. Your hands rest on his forearms, his on your elbows as you finally look at him.

He’s still beautiful. His hair is still the same, if not a little bit longer. You told him he was in his long fluffy era while he’s taking a break from filming last time you saw him. It was fun tugging on it when his mouth was exploring your body. His eyes are a mixture of exhaustion, happiness, and a hint of mischief. He somehow looks bigger, like he’s been working out a lot more. It’s only been two months since you’ve seen him, but it feels like a lot longer. There’s a small ache in your heart when you look up at him, and you’re not even sure when you started crying until his hands cradle your face, thumbs wiping away your tears.

“Why is my beautiful princess crying, hmm? Can’t stand my beauty?”

You scoff out a sob, lightly smacking him. The ache in your heart turns into a searing jolt at my beautiful princess.

“Shut up, you’re hideous.”

“Tell that to Vogue.”

“Will do. I’ll write a book about it.”

“Oh, can I have the first copy?”

“Of course. I’ll sign it and everything.”

“Oh my god, what an honor.”

“I’ve missed you, Seokjin.”

“I’ve missed you too, y/n.”

He pulls you into another hug, tightening his arms around you when you let out a soft squeak.

“Okay, you two, let’s get this vacation underway.” Your boyfriend’s voice drags you out of the hug you’ve missed so much, stepping away from Seokjin to let the two men hug and greet one another while you mind the bags Namjoon must’ve grabbed while you were busy.

“You’re not gonna run into my arms? Only her?” Seokjin playfully pouts at your boyfriend, who rolls his eyes in response, grabbing your hand in his.

“Nah, that’s her thing.”

“What’s your thing then?” you ask, tilting your head to the side with a smirk.

“Later.”

He doesn’t look at you, so you turn to look at Seokjin instead, who has an eyebrow raised at you. You shrug in response, giving him a look that says I’m just as confused and walk out with your boyfriend and best friend.

“So, welcome to Athens.” Seokjin starts and he and Namjoon load the bags into the back of the small car, “I’ll be your driver today and the rest of the time we’re here until we get to–”

“Don’t say it, hyung.” Namjoon quickly interjects as you get in the passenger seat.

“Don’t say what?” You turn to look at your boyfriend sitting behind the driver’s seat.

“You haven’t told her any of the plans?” Seokjin looks in the rear view mirror in astonishment.

“Nope. And it stays that way.”

“Boo.”

“Lame.”

“It’s a surprise.”

“Joon, it’s your birthday. Why am I the one being surprised?”

He doesn’t say anything more, giving Seokjin a knowing smile that frustrates you when he raises his eyebrows and grins in response.

You pout, “I hate you both.”

“Lying is bad for your health, princess.”

Your annoyance with the two men in the car is quickly forgotten about when Seokjin starts driving through Athens. Everything is gorgeous. You get a little giddy, driving through streets you refuse to admit to going through on Google maps, or seeing structures you’ve seen in video games.

“Princess, look out my window.” Seokjin’s hand lightly grabs at your thigh to get your attention, making you swivel around to look out his window where you can just make out a building you know you’ve climbed in an Assassin’s Creed game.

“Is that the Parthenon?!” The question is rhetoric, but your excitement is overflowing. “Holy shit, we’re actually in Greece! Can we go see the Olympic park? The observatory? Oh! Joon there’s some really cool art museums there, too! Can we go there?”

“Baby, breathe.” Your boyfriend laughs, Seokjin snickering beside you, his hand still on your thigh, “we’ll go tomorrow first thing. Today we just need to get to the hotel and get dinner.”

“How are we going to do all this in two weeks? Greece is huge.” You plop back in your seat, huffing in response.

It’s only now you notice Seokjin’s hand on your thigh, following the limb up to its owner who has his eyes switching from the road to the gps, slightly confused expression on his face in concentration. You turn your head to look at Namjoon, whose eyes are on the hand on your thigh, a soft smile he tries to hide when he realizes you’re looking.

It’s confusing. It should be Namjoon’s hand there, and yet it still feels right. You love Namjoon. Absolutely head over heels in love with him.

But in comes Seokjin. The man you’ve had a crush on for years. Who you finally found out actually had feelings for you too.

You adore Seokjin. You always will. You probably could’ve fallen in love with him if he had said anything back then. But then what would’ve happened with Namjoon? Your stomach drops at the thought.

You silently thank any and every god there is that neither you or Seokjin said anything and that you met your boyfriend. And that by some weird miracle, he’s willing to share you with no one other than Seokjin.

You’re so spaced out, you barely notice when Seokjin pulls into the parking lot of where you will be staying. It’s a gorgeous private villa, an elegant white building with a mixture of modern and Greek design. You hop out of the car while the two men grab the bags.

“You got a whole house?” You’re not sure if you’re asking Namjoon or Seokjin. But they both respond at the same time.

“Yes.”

“Yup. Privacy is priceless.” Seokjin chimes in. You roll your eyes with a smile, grabbing the key from him and unlocking the door.

“There’s three king sized beds and two smaller ones. I took one of the king ones just off the kitchen.” Seokjin guides you both through the house, bags left by the front door with your shoes, “there’s a sauna, a little gym, air conditioning thank god, and a bunch more I haven’t actually explored yet.”

“With how much we’ll be exploring, we don’t really need a sauna or a gym or anything like that. Y’all really love to go overboard.” You poke both of them in their sides, Namjoon quietly grabs your wrist while Seokjin dramatically cries out as if you’ve stabbed him.

“It’s nice to have the option, princess!” His dramatics will never cease to amuse you, “Aish, now I’m going to bruise and it’s all your fault.” He rubs his side as he walks away, heading towards the kitchen.

“Let him have the weird accommodations, baby. He’s a celebrity like that.” Namjoon speaks next to your ear, wrapping his arms around your middle and hugging you.

“He’s weird.”

“And yet…” his voice trails off, his nose nudging against your throat when he kisses your shoulder.

“And yet…” you sigh, repeating the statement back. You both silently stand in the middle of the living area, Namjoon leaving kisses across your shoulder, and you staring out the window. You can see just enough of the city of Athens, it feels like a dream.

“I’m gonna shower really quick, go keep Seokjin entertained, hmm?” Your boyfriend kisses your temple, humming when you agree. He gives your ass a light smack before he walks away, grabbing the bags and taking them to a room with a bathroom.

You find your way to the kitchen where Seokjin is holding two bottles of wine in either hand, eyes flicking back and forth on each label. He looks up when you enter, eyes scanning next to you before he pouts.

“Where's Joon?”

“Shower. Told me to entertain you.” You shrug, walking with a little skip over to him. He smirks as you hop up on the island counter, placing the bottles of wine on the main counter away from you.

“And how do you plan on entertaining me, princess?” His tone teases and you shrug once again, kicking your feet out a little as you rest your palms on the counter’s edge.

“I dunno. How would you like to be entertained?” You know where this is going, you haven’t seen or felt him in over two months. You miss him. So much.

And he has clearly missed you just as much when he grabs your kicking feet, moving them to spread your legs so he can stand between them. One of his hands finds the back of your head, fingers curling in your hair, as he brings your lips to his.

It’s slow and deep, but it quickly turns heated and desperate when his head turns to the side to gain better access. Your lips part and you let out a soft moan that he quickly swallows, tongues fighting against one another as he keeps his fingers tangled in your hair and the other hand gripping your hip tight.

Your hands stay cradling his face, desperate to remember how he feels when kissing you so desperately.

“God, princess, you have no idea how much I’ve missed you.”

“Me too.” You pant between kisses.

“How often I look at those photos you sent me or the videos Joon sent of you taking his cock so deep. It fucking killed me every time.”

“Jin.” You moan when his lips trail down to your clavicle.

“I don’t need to see old buildings or art or any of that, I’d rather spend the next two weeks fucking you with Namjoon.” He curses against your skin, your dress’s straps falling off your shoulder. Your breasts are so close to spilling out, if not for a third voice causing you both to jump, you pulling the straps back up to cover yourself.

“As much as I would like to have two weeks to fuck our baby stupid, I didn’t plan this trip for that.” Namjoon gives a mischievous smirk. You know he might not have planned for that. But he did plan something. You just don’t know what.

“As long as I get to taste her at some point.” Seokjin says, smiling up at you as he speaks to your boyfriend.

“You will, but for now she should shower the plane off of her and get ready for dinner.”

You nod, sighing as you tap Seokjin’s arms to let go of you. He backs away, letting you hop down and toward your boyfriend who grabs your waist as you walk by, tugging you to stand in front of him.

“Be a good girl, and you’ll get rewarded.” He whispers, kissing your forehead. You give him a playful glare, stepping to the side and walking past him, towards the bathroom he used.

You shower quickly, changing into another summer dress, this one a mix of green and blue chiffon with beautiful off-shoulder straps that fall perfectly in place just below your shoulders. Even though it’s about five in the evening, it’s still ridiculously hot. You put barely any makeup on, fixing your hair up to stop yourself from sweating down your back.

When you return to the kitchen, Namjoon is bothering Seokjin while he’s focused on pouring the three of you some wine, making sure it’s an equal amount for each of you. What takes you by surprise, however, is Namjoon’s chin resting on his friend’s shoulder, his arms wrapped around his middle like he does with you.

Oh.

Suddenly it makes sense.

“There she is!” Seokjin’s voice pipes through the kitchen. Namjoon slowly backs away from Seokjin’s back, grabbing two glasses of wine and bringing one to you.

“You look stunning, baby.”

“Thank you. It’s too hot.” You pout, taking the wine and giving a small thanks. You join him and Seokjin back in the kitchen where he’s prepared a little plate of snacks to go with the wine.

“That’s Greece. I don’t think it’s ever cold?” Namjoon shrugs, taking a sip of his wine.

“I bet it’s like LA. Maybe cold like once or twice a year.” Seokjin pops a cracker into his mouth. You share a look with Namjoon, both of you snickering.

“Oh, look at this fancy boy, saying LA like it’s so casual for him.” You tease, taking a big sip of the wine.

“Ha ha ha. Keep being jealous.” He deadpans.

“Me? Jealous? Of your exhausting life? Absolutely not, handsome. I like being in Seoul where I sleep and eat and the only traveling I do is to various museums and art galleries for work.”

“Ah, yes. Our little curator. That’s how you stole her from the world, right Namjoon?”

“I didn’t steal her.”

“More like held me hostage.”

“In bed I assume?”

“Of course. Then I think it became some sort of Stockholm Syndrome and I fell in love.”

“A true romance right there. Can I tell that story at the wedding?”

“Please. I’ll write it all down for you.”

“Thank you, princess. I’ll memorize it and give the best performance.”

“I know you will.”

“God, I forgot what it’s like when you two get together.” Namjoon groans, leaning over the counter to bury his head in his arms. You look over at Seokjin in feigned shock.

“I feel like he’s being rude and offensive.”

“So rude. So offensive.”

“Extremely.”

“I thought you loved us!” Seokjin exclaims dramatically, hand on chest and fake tears starting to build up.

“I do!” He laughs almost manically, lifting his head up and running his fingers through his hair. “It’s like you’re twins or something, it’s so much.”

You giggle, leaning across the counter to soothe your boyfriend.

“We’ll tone it down a bit, babe. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not.” Seokjin shrugs, a smug look on his face. He exclaims when you lightly hit his shoulder, “What? He said he loves me! I’m over the fucking moon right now.”

All three of you laugh, finishing up your wine and snack grazing. Seokjin orders a cab for the three of you to take to a fancy restaurant by the beach where there’s even more wine. Multiple bottles of it.

You barely remember the dinner, only remembering that the wine kept coming and resulted in both men having their hands on you the entire night. Whether it was Namjoon’s hands on your waist while standing in a crowd, or Seokjin’s hand clutching yours tight while guiding you through the masses of people.

The light touches on your arms at dinner or your thighs in the car, they both knew what they were doing to you and fully aware of the hold they had on you.

At one point, you ended up in a square that had people performing live music and people dancing to it. Seokjin dragged you and Namjoon to the makeshift dance floor, making you dance with your back against his chest and Namjoon facing you. Your hips swayed perfectly against Seokjin’s, pressing just right against his cock while Namjoon’s was pressing against your lower stomach.

Both men covered either side of your neck with kisses, really testing your ability to not moan in public. It took you mumbling something about going home for them to stop, quickly getting a ride back to the private villa.

The moment you hit the mattress, Namjoon has you splayed out on the bed, your summer dress riding dangerously high up your legs. Seokjin stands at the edge of the bed, quietly taking his shirt and pants off.

Namjoon, still fully clothed minus his shoes, crawls over your body, deeply kissing you while his hand roams your entire body. His lips trail down your neck to your shoulder where he stops for a moment. It’s when he lets out a heavy sigh that you feel a sense of panic.

“I’m so sorry, baby. I’m too drunk.”

“What?”

“I can barely stay awake, baby.” He rolls off you, laying on his side while he hugs a pillow.

“But…”

“Jinnie can take care of you. Right, hyung?” He barely opens his eyes to look at the older male, who looks just as confused as you do. “You just can’t fuck her though. Have her ride your thigh. That should do it.”

His eyes fall shut and you sit up, not sure what to do next. You look over to Seokjin, who’s looking at you for confirmation of what to do next, standing there in his underwear that’s straining his cock right now.

“Should we go to your room?” You ask tentatively, moving to get up when he nods.

“No.” Namjoon’s voice returns from its slumber. “I wanna hear it. Do it here.”

“Joonie, you’re tired.” You try to reason, but you know for a fact you’d rather do it here than without him there.

“Here or not at all, baby.” His tired groan sounds serious, so you nod again, bending over to kiss his cheek, a small dimple appearing from his smile.

“I love you, Joonie.”

“Love you too.”

You turn back to Seokjin, a hand reaching out that he quickly takes, pulling you up to meet his standing position with your knees on the bed.

“We don’t have to.” He murmurs, fingers delicately tangling with yours while his other hand finds your waist, bunching up the fabric there.

You shake your head, leaning forward to softly meet his lips with yours. Kissing Seokjin is an experience every time. His plush pout’s ability to take over the kiss, and the moans he makes when you tug on his bottom lip with your teeth to try to regain control, makes you want to crumble into a pile of goo.

“I need something, anything, Jinnie. Please?”

You rarely call Seokjin by the nickname Namjoon and Yoongi gave him years ago. You could probably count on one hand how many times you’ve said it. While it was a loving joke type of nickname from the guys, it always felt almost too intimate coming from you. So you have always stuck with Jin.

Seokjin sighs, smiling at your adorable pouty expression. He whispers okay before leaning in to kiss you again, “what princess wants, princess gets.”

Giant hands maneuver you so he can lay down. When you twist your body to straddle his lap while facing him, the big hands still your hips.

“Ride my face.”

Funny how three little words can make your entire body feel like it’s on fire.

You quickly look over to Namjoon who has his eyes closed, pillow tucked against his chest, but there’s a smile there that you know was in response to Seokjin’s order.

You huff out, moving to crawl further up Seokjin’s body, but you’re stopped again when you’re just about over his face.

“Turn around.”

“What?”

“If I can’t fuck you right now, I need your mouth to remind me what it can do.”

You nod, afraid if you speak, it’ll be mushed up nonsense, and turn around, getting on your hands and knees facing away from Seokjin. His hands grab your upper thighs and tug you closer to his face, making you gasp and almost fall forward when you lose balance on your hands.

“The dress has to go, y/n.” He gives your ass a light squeeze and you quickly rid the dress from your body. Jin lets out a low hum of approval at your matching bra and underwear; a deep crimson red and satin set.

“Every time…” he says under his breath, hooking his fingers into the side of your underwear and pulling it to your knees. You awkwardly lift one so he can move the underwear off it, not caring about the other leg.

You palm Seokjin’s cock through his briefs, smiling softly at the sound he makes.

You don’t hear his response, only gasping when he tugs your lower half down to meet those plush lips of his as he licks a long stripe through your folds, lips wrapping around your clit.

“Fuck, Jin.” You whimper, head dropping to his hip as you slowly rut against his face. His hand smacks the side of your thigh, making you still.

“Let me take care of you, princess.” He says, almost as a warning.

You nod, forgetting he can’t see you, and lift your head up. With one of your shaking hands, you free his cock from the confines of his briefs, momentarily laughing when he tries to kick the fabric off his body.

A harsh suck against your clit stops you from laughing.

You pull yourself together again, wrapping your fingers around his impressive length. You fondly remember when you saw it for the first time last Christmas. You wanted so badly to touch it, hold it in your palm to feel how heavy it was. But there was a desperate need the first time you were with him. Now, nine months later, you had all the time in the world.

Leaning down, you kiss the tip of his cock, enjoying the way it twitches at the contact followed by Seokjin’s light moan. You do it a few more times, on the tip, down the shaft, a kiss or two lands on his balls. Each kiss earns a twitch or a groan. Just as his tongue dives deep in your folds, you gather enough spit to trickle past your lips and onto his cock, using your hand to spread it around before slowly lowering your mouth down his now leaking member.

You let his cock prod the back of your throat for a moment, thanking whatever gods that you barely have a gag reflex, and hum around him. Your nails dig into his thighs as he groans against your center, a hand smacking your ass.

“Princess, what the fuck are you doing to me.”

His hips buck up, his cock somehow finding its way deeper down your throat. You cough, fighting the urge to pull off as his hips continue to buck up, your hands finding the bedding to brace yourself as he fucks your throat. You whine when two fingers ease past your folds, curling inside of you to press against your walls.

It’s not long after that, that you’re crying, coming around his fingers and tongue and whining around his cock. Seconds later, he’s coming as well, bitter liquid shooting down your throat.

You’re so lost in focusing on swallowing and not choking that you don’t hear the small breath of a laugh coming from your boyfriend.

Seokjin, however, heard perfectly.

“Ya, your girl’s a menace.”

You lift your throat off his cock, taking slow but short breaths as you look over at your boyfriend whose eyes travel from your lips down to his best friend’s soaked cock, some cum still coated around him.

You glance down at the wet spot at his crotch.

“Are you still too tired?” Your voice rasps. He nods, but your eyes stay locked on his crotch.

Seokjin pats your ass, signaling for you to crawl off just enough that he can get off the bed.

“I’m gonna shower and head to bed. Tomorrow we will explore Athens.” He gives you a kiss on the cheek before turning to the door and heading to his room. You smile, turning back to your boyfriend who has his eyes barely opened, watching you. Your eyes go back to the wet patch.

“Let me take care of you, Joonie.”

“Baby…”

“Please?”

“I’m fine, baby. Come to bed.” Sighing, you lay down next to him, your leg finding its way between his as you lean in just enough, connecting your lips to his. He moans deeply, tasting Seokjin on your tongue. Your suspicions are confirmed as you feel the bulge in his pants move underneath you.

“You sure you don’t want me to take care of that?” You tease against his lips. Your hand sneaks between you both, but is quickly grabbed by Namjoon’s.

“Yes, baby. I’m sure.” He smiles, eyes shut as he brings your hand up to his lips, kissing your fingers briefly. “Sleep.”

You murmur defeat, getting off the bed to brush your teeth and change into a large shirt to sleep in. When you come back to bed, Namjoon is fast asleep on his back, his arm splayed out waiting for you. You pout, crawling into bed and curling up against his side. The moment your head rests on his shoulder, his arm moves on instinct to wrap around your back, thumb moving back and forth against your shoulder.

It’s not until you’re at the edge of falling asleep that you realize this is the first time Namjoon let you be with Seokjin without claiming you after or being the one to make you come last.

Athens is beautiful. You spent the first three days simply wandering around the ancient city, going from ruin to ruin and museum to museum.

This is how you met Namjoon. You were part of the opening of a new museum in Seoul and Yoongi dragged Namjoon as his plus one. You both immediately hit it off and have been in love ever since.

Yoongi demanded to be one to marry you both, getting ordained on your one year anniversary just in case.

Museums and art galleries quickly became your thing with Namjoon. While it was a part of your job to constantly be in museums and galleries, it’s your dream job for a reason. And what could be better than finding someone who loves your job as much as you do?

Seokjin, however, never showed any particular interest in museums or art in general. Sure, he’d go and take pictures either of or in front of the art, post it to socials, and come up with some horrible dad joke. But he couldn’t stand the idea of spending hours walking around looking at things from years and years ago.

But you have to give him brownie points, he persevered the few days in Athens, knowing there would be wine and delicious food at the end of it all. And potentially a blow job from you.

Namjoon still refused you both from actual sex, making you and Seokjin pout or whine. Seokjin almost begged one night, much to Namjoon’s delight, but he still said no.

After Athens, the three of you packed your bags and boarded a boat to head to the next stop in Greece. Seokjin was beyond excited, Namjoon had a smug smile the entire way over, and you were completely clueless.

That is, until you stepped off the boat onto a wooden deck and it clicked immediately.

“Is this…?”

“Where they filmed Mamma Mia? Yes. Yes it is.” Namjoon replies, helping Seokjin off the boat after you.

“Ahhh, it’s even prettier in person!” Seokjin's voice squeaks, running to stand next to you, hand grabbing yours.

You grin, trying to avoid screaming like you want to. Mamma Mia has and always will be one of your favorite films. It’s your comfort movie and you and Seokjin would watch it consistently when either of you had a shitty day. You’d always end up standing on the couch or coffee table dramatically singing along with the ABBA songs or quoting the movie and acting them out while it played in the background.

Still holding Seokjin’s hand, you turn to your boyfriend, who’s making sure all the luggage is accounted for.

“Oh, right. Sorry, Joonie.” You drag Seokjin back to Namjoon, both of you grabbing as much luggage as you can and following the other tourists off the dock.

Again, Seokjin arranged for a private villa. This one, however is smaller, only has one bed as well as a couch, and no air conditioning.

The first two days aren't a problem. The weather is cool, the clouds covering the sun a majority of the day, and an amazing ocean breeze to make you shiver every now and again. The three of you travel around the island, you and Seokjin giggling every time you find a spot from the movie and having Namjoon take a photo of the both of you mid-reenactment.

During the third and last day on Skopelos, however, there was a heat wave. And it is miserable to put it nicely.

So miserable, none of you want to move. Seokjin is groaning that Greece isn't going anywhere. And you are complaining that days like this are why Google Street View exists. Namjoon is huffy at you both, deciding to go for a run while you two lie around, complaining about the heat.

It is on his run, however, when a perfect idea pops into his head as he sees some locals with frozen treats.

When he comes in, he finds you lying on the tile floor, your flowy summer dress draped around your body and the floor, and Seokjin on the couch, one leg dangling off the edge and the other off the back of the couch. You both look ridiculous as Namjoon heads to the kitchen.

“Jooooooonie, can you make the fan do more?”

It’s a silly question to ask, you know the answer. But you have hope.

“Nope, baby. Sorry.” He answers, head in the freezer. “I have a better idea, though. Hyung, come here.”

He groans, throwing himself off the couch dramatically and playfully stomping his way to Namjoon in the kitchen. He’s about to speak when the two exchange glances. Seokjin glances down at the bowl in his hand and grins, nodding quickly as if to agree to Namjoon’s silent question.

“Princess.”

“Baby.”

They speak at the same time, causing you to tilt your head backwards, looking at the upside down men quizzically.

“Hmm?”

How’s the tile down there?” Your boyfriend asks, hands behind his back.

“It’s cooler than the bed.” You answer slowly as Seokjin sits behind you, Namjoon moving to sit in front of you.

“Wanna play a game?”

“You wouldn’t let me bring my switch, so we can’t unless there’s one here…”

“No. Princess. A game.”

It takes a second to process, but when it finally clicks, Namjoon’s already starting to spread your legs, the dress’s fabric falling to your hips.

“Joonie, it’s too hot…”

“Right. It is way too hot. Which is why I want to play a game.”

You question what he means, allowing Seokjin to lift your head and shoulders enough to tuck himself underneath you, letting your upper torso and your head to rest against chest

“I just wanna help you cool down, baby.” He smirks, bringing the bowl into view for you to see what he means. It’s a small but deep bowl full of ice cubes and pieces alike.

Fuck.

You’re not sure if you say it in your mind or out loud. Possibly out loud since both men grin wide, snickering as Namjoon spreads your legs further. You relax into Seokjin’s chest, his hands finding the bottom of your dress and shimmying it up your torso. You lift your ass off the ground ever so slightly so he can pull the dress further up until he fully removes it, tossing it to the side.

“Gonna be a good girl for us, princess?” Seokjin smiles, leaning down to kiss your forehead.

“What are the rules?” You ask softly, your hands finding Seokjin’s forearms resting on your shoulders.

“The rules, baby, are simple.” Namjoon grins, picking up one of the ice cubes, holding it in his fist to help it melt down a bit.

“Move, and we stop. Come before we say so, and we stop.”

“I don’t like those rules.” You pout, Namjoon rolls his eyes, ignoring you while Seokjin snickers.

“There’s our princess being a brat.”

“Those are the rules, baby. Follow them and you get rewarded.”

“What’s the reward?”

Namjoon looks up to Seokjin, eyebrows raised at Seokjin’s questioning gaze.

“It’s a surprise.” He finally answers, putting the ice cube back in the bowl and trailing his frozen cold hand up your body. You shiver, fighting the urge to pull away from the freezing hand.

“I like to know what I’m winning.” You grumble through chattering teeth, your boyfriend's hand softly gliding up your waist to behind your back.

“I know you do, baby. And I promise you, you’ll feel so fulfilled after.” He whispers, undoing the clasp on your bra.

“Joon.” You whine, fingers digging into Seokjin’s arms after your bra gets removed.

“Ready, baby?”

You nod, hating his teasing tone.

He grabs the ice cube again, it already melting in his palm as he hovers his hand above your chest. All three of you wait as the little drop of freezing water develops under his grip, slowly getting ready to drip down.

You feel yourself breathing harder, chest rising faster as you watch the droplet. When it finally drops, it feels like a spike of ice landing

But before the drop can land on your skin, Namjoon’s pulling it away again.

“New rule. Close your eyes, baby.”

You whine again, body wiggling in anticipation.

“Eyes, princess. Let us make you feel good.” Seokjin whispers against your temple. You nod, shutting your eyes tight and leaning further back into Seokjin’s embrace.

Not even seconds later, you feel a drop of water drip on your chest between your breasts.

“Fuck!” You yelp, body lifting off the ground from the initial shock.

“Already breaking the rules, baby. Stay still or we stop.” Namjoon’s deep voice teases as another few drops land across your chest.

“Okay. Okay okay okay.” You nod, keeping your eyes shut as you grip onto Seokjin’s arms even more to stay still.

You have no idea where the ice is going to be next, your body tensing in preparation for another jolt of cold against your skin. It’s almost torture how long between drops Namjoon lets it be before you feel a full cube against the bottom curve of your breast.

You let out a high pitched whine, forcing yourself to stay still as he glides the ice all around your breasts, to across your clavicle, down the sides of your waist and across your middle section. Your breathing returns to rapid breaths, shivering with goosebumps as well as just pure arousal.

You can’t tell what’s turning you on more; the frozen water being softly dragged across your sensitive skin, or the melted water that remains in its path, dripping down your sides and making its way to your back.

Opposite of the freezing ice, however, is how hot Seokjin’s skin feels behind you. It almost feels like the ice dripping behind you is evaporating the moment it makes contact with his skin.

It’s too hot.

But you want more.

Need more.

The last piece of ice melts directly over your belly button, your breath stuttering when Namjoon’s hand goes flat across your stomach, gliding up to between your breasts and around your throat.

“Good girl. Ready for more?”

You whimper out a yes, your legs subconsciously spreading further for him, like your body begging where to go next.

“Remember. No movements, princess.” Seokjin teases, having noticed your legs.

You huff out in complaint, but it quickly turns into a shaking gasp when there’s an ice cube tracing up your inner thigh. Namjoon skips over where you want it most, dragging the cube to your other thigh and back up to your lower stomach, dancing the cube along the waistline of your underwear.

“Joonie, please.”

“Please what?”

“I hate the teasing.” You pout petulantly, head twisting to the side to bury your face in Seokjin’s arm. You’re desperately trying to ignore the hardening bulge pressing up against your back.

“Mmmm, I’d say otherwise, baby. You’re soaking through. I mean, hyung just look at how soak—”

A string of curse words leave your lips, unable to hear anything the men are teasing about, when Namjoon presses a cube directly over the wet patch of your underwear, fitting perfectly against your folds and your clit.

“Ya! No biting!” Seokjin’s voice yells, prying your mouth away from his bicep.

Namjoon pulls the ice away, giving your clothed center a light smack. Your hips jerk from the sensation, fighting back the urge to open your eyes.

“‘M sorry, Jin.” You whimper, kissing where you think you bit.

“I don’t know if I should forgive you, princess. That was a very bad thing to do.”

“No no, I’ll be good. Please.”

There’s silence. With the inability to see them, you can’t tell if they’re silently discussing whether to punish or reward you.

“I feel like she’s been through enough, Joonie. Maybe we should just stop here.”

“She can take more.”

“I can. I can do it. Please.”

“What’s the word, baby?”

“Wendigo.” You let out a breathless laugh, the two men snickering at the memory.

Namjoon taps your hip, telling you to lift so he can remove your underwear, tossing it aside with your dress. You feel movement down between your legs before you feel a sudden warm breath, making your toes curl.

“Remember, princess. No movement.”

You nod vigorously, clutching onto Seokjin again when Namjoon’s warm tongue licks a full stroke up your folds, the tip teasingly dancing against your clit.

He’s vicious with the way he teases you, breathing against your soaked center with his hot breath before bringing the melting cube to your clit when he can feel you’re close. Your constant moans and cries only encourage him further as he pops the cube into his mouth, settling it below his tongue, and dancing it at your entrance. The switch between warm tongue and ice cube is infuriating to say the least.

“You’re being such a good girl, princess. I think Joonie might reward you soon.” Seokjin’s deep voice against your ear sends a different kind of shiver down your spine.

Namjoon’s mouth pulls away from your throbbing center, giving your inner thigh a light kiss. You take a deep breath, eyes still shut, as you wait for whatever pleasurable torture was next.

But nothing happens.

Nothing happens for what feels like eternity but, in reality, it’s only a minute or two before you feel your boyfriend’s body move away from you. The sounds of shuffling as well as Seokjin letting you go slack against his body.

“Do you trust me, baby?” Namjoon’s voice comes from where you think the kitchen is located. You nod, muttering out of course while leaning further into Seokjin’s chest.

“Let’s move her to the couch, hyung. Baby, keep your eyes shut.” Seokjin does as he’s told, lifting you up carefully and bringing you to stand in front of the couch. It sounds like more ice is being put into the ceramic bowl. Your body shakes at the thought.

“Sit, hyung.” When you hear movement to the left of you, you can only assume Seokjin’s following orders.

“Jagi…” Namjoon’s voice is suddenly right in front of you, a big cold hand softly caressing your waist. The temperature makes you jump, but you settle into it immediately.

“I think hyung was right, you deserve a reward. I’m gonna sit you down on hyung’s cock, and you’re gonna be good and take it all, right?”

You nod again, pouting slightly when he reminds you to keep your eyes closed as he leads you back. Your hands reach behind you, finding Seokjin’s immediately as he and Namjoon help you onto the couch. They sit you down on Seokjin’s lap, your legs spread and hooked on either side of his thighs. Seokjin lets go of one of your hands to wrap around his cock, giving himself a few pumps before his tip meets your entrance.

“Ready, princess?”

“Please.” You beg, head falling back when he presses the tip past your folds, slowly easing himself inside of you.

“Good job, baby. Keep taking his cock, take every inch.” Namjoon’s praises sound like they’re coming from below you, but you’re not sure, unable to focus as you try to relax around Seokjin’s massive length.

Once you give the okay to Seokjin, he sinks down on the couch a bit more, bringing you back to plant your feet on the cushion so his hips are free to move at the pace he knows drives you crazy.

You cry out, it’s been months since you’ve had him inside you and it feels so fucking good, you could write poems and songs about how good his cock feels filling and stretching you out with every thrust.

“Fuck, please. Please let me come. Feels too good. Plea— oh, fuck.” Your body jolts at the sudden feeling of ice against the junction where your pelvis meets your thigh. Seokjin’s hands quickly steady you, massive hands holding your waist still while he continues to fuck you.

The moans you make are pornographic as the ice cube slides around your skin, gliding and dancing around your pulsing clit that when he finally brings it there, you let out a sharp gasp. You bite your bottom lip, trying to fight the curses you want to scream at the top of your lungs.

Namjoon quickly removes the cube from against your sensitive bundle of nerves, questioning Seokjin for permission to something you can’t hear because you’re too focused on Seokjin’s cock hitting exactly where it needs to.

When you hear Seokjin whine, saying yes, he slows down his thrusts, hands bringing your waist down to sit on his lap with his cock fully inside of your clenching walls.

You resist asking them what they’re doing, knowing it’s pointless. You lean your head against Seokjin’s shoulder, facing his neck as your lips find skin.

You’re about to press soft kisses against the skin when a sharp bolt of ice courses through your body.

Your eyes snap open, looking down at where you and Seokjin are connected and you nearly come just from the sight of Namjoon’s tongue shoving a small mostly melted ice cube past your entrance and against the bulging vein around Seokjin’s cock.

Your boyfriend’s tongue is on your best friend’s dick.

Okay, maybe it’s not on his dick, but it’s close enough to just graze over that counts.

The fingers holding onto your waist dig deep into your skin as Seokjin groans at the feeling of the ice cube being kept inside of you by his dick.

You whine, head leaning back again and shutting your eyes once more as you feel the cube, melting fast, make its way inside of you, being eased deeper by the head of Seokjin’s cock.

“How’s it feel, baby?” Your boyfriend’s voice rumbles against your skin as he sits up on his knees, large hands on your thighs, watching the way you take Seokjin’s cock.

“So fucking good.” You whimper.

“Fucking heaven.” Seokjin whines behind you, hips beginning to lose their rhythm, teeth grazing your neck. “I won’t last long, fuck it’s so impossible to last long with you, y/n.”

You let out a soft laugh, a moan mixing through it, as you reach behind you, tugging Seokjin’s hair to pull his face back to yours, trapping him in a kiss.

“Come for me, Jin. Fill me up. Please.” You repeat your request against his lips until you’re wincing from his teeth catching your bottom lip and one last thrust. The sensation of his cum filling you up makes you both moan.

Namjoon’s hands help you lift yourself just enough that Seokjin’s cock slips out, but he quickly stands, leaning over you both on the couch, and slides himself past your entrance, stuffing his hyung’s cum back inside.

“Joon!” You cry out, hands flying away from Seokjin and grasping Namjoon’s forearms.

“Take his cock, princess. Gotta keep all my cum in there.” Seokjin’s strained voice comes from behind you. One hand barely helps to hold you up as the other sneaks away and you hear that damn ceramic bowl with ice being moved around.

“Don’t you dare.” You mumble, immediately feeling Seokjin laugh under you.

“I thought you could take it, y/n?” Seokjin teases, grasping an ice cube and tracing it along your waist. You gasp, trying to move your body away from the sensation, but Namjoon tugs you back on top of the older man as he starts thrusting.

Seokjin’s fingers trail the cube up your waist, alongside your ribs, just below your breasts, before finally bringing it to one of your nipples. Your back attempts to arch, but Seokjin’s other hand forces you back down from your stomach until you’re fully lying on him, no longer hovering.

It’s a chaotic mix of teasing, pleasure, and pain as Namjoon’s thumb starts circling your clit as he pounds into you at the same time as Seokjin’s ice trails along your skin. You barely give a warning before you’re crying out over your orgasm, body shaking and trying to grab onto anything you can.

It’s only seconds later you feel Namjoon’s cock twitch inside of you, making you feel more full than before.

You wake up to the sounds of Seokjin snoring behind you. Eyes opening wide in panic when he lets out a rather loud one that almost sounds like he’s choking. You try to turn over to check on him, but you’re being held down by one of his arms.

When your eyes open, you’re met with Namjoon’s closed ones, silently sleeping. He’s hugging his pillow tight, somehow unaware of the loud snores behind you.

Or so you think.

You try moving again, freezing instantly when Namjoon’s eyes open, a soft smile forming.

“Hey, beautiful.” He whispers softly, his voice gravelly from the slumber.

“Hi?”

“How you feeling?” His question confuses you.

You feel fine. But you last remember Namjoon coming inside of you and that’s it.

“Good? I don’t…remember what happened.” You try shuffling close to your boyfriend, but Seokjin’s hold on you is tight. Namjoon lets out a soft giggle, scooting closer to you instead.

“You kinda passed out…?” His eyebrows raise a little, smile starting to form into a small laugh, “not like anything bad. But, after I came, you were a little loopy? It was amusing. We took care of you though. Cleaned you up and everything.”

“Hmm. I genuinely don’t remember, but thank you, baby.”

“Where’s my thank you.” The voice behind you grumbles against your skin. You and Namjoon laugh as you twist your face into the pillow, muffling yourself.

“Thank you, Jinnie” your voice drowns in the pillow.

“Namjoon should thank me too. I was super helpful.”

You laugh into the pillow.

“I take thank yous in kisses, please and thank you.” He snickers. You shake your head, twisting your body to face him now.

“Shut up, hyung.” Namjoon sighs, his hand rubbing up against your waist.

Seokjin’s so pretty when he wakes up. His face is a little extra puffy, but it’s so cute. You love it.

“I’ll get my kiss from him one day.” He pouts.

“One day. I believe in it.” You grin, leaning in to give him an obnoxious kiss, pulling away with a loud mwah sound.

The three of you laze around the rest of the day, only going out to get dinner before returning to sleep.

The next day, the three of you make the trip to the final destination: Mykonos.

It’s an island you had discussed early on in the relationship. Your typical Greece imagery of gorgeous waters, all white buildings and blue trim, beautiful beaches all around. Everything about it was perfect in the images you looked at. But it’s nothing compared to seeing it in person.

You guys have the last four days here to just relax and enjoy the beaches.

The day before Namjoon’s birthday, the three of you all separate to do different things. You stay inside, having some work stuff come up that you can't avoid. Seokjin decides to lounge on the deck of the villa you are staying in. It has stairs leading down straight onto the beach. There is a running path just off to the side and Namjoon decides to go see how much of the island he can cover (not much, but he does try).

When you finally finish up with work (you’re going to fight with Taehyung when you get back for directing the issue he could’ve easily fixed to you, knowing full well you are on vacation), you change into a bathing suit, throwing an oversized shirt (whether it’s Namjoon’s or Seokjin’s, you’ll never know) on over it and walk out onto the deck.

You’ll never get over Seokjin without a shirt.

He’s leaning over the balcony, in only shorts as his broad shoulders are on full display. The dimples in his back as well as the way his shoulder blades move when he shifts in place is enough to send shivers down your spine.

You lean against the railing while standing next to him, staying quiet while he’s on the phone, having some sort of back and forth with who you assume is his manager. You’re quickly distracted by the beautiful blue waves rolling in to notice Seokjin repositioning to stand behind you, resting his chin on your head while he continues his phone call.

“Yeah. I should be back in a few days and then I was hoping to stay in Seoul a few days before New York…but I guess that’s not happening?”

You pout when he sighs, saying he understands and hanging up. The phone is tucked away in his back pocket while his arms snake around your waist.

“Already have to go back to work?”

He nods, moving down to rest his chin on your shoulder.

“Unfortunately. They actually wanted me to come back tonight but I told him to fuck off.”

“No you didn’t.”

“No, I didn’t. But I did politely say no and made a compromise to come back asap.”

“You’re too nice to them.” You pout, watching a couple playing in the ocean waves, “They overwork you. I miss you. Namjoon misses you.”

“I miss you too, princess. I miss you and Joon every time I’m away.”

“Wanna stay here forever.” It’s a soft mumble, but you know he hears it when he hums in agreement, turning his head to kiss your cheek. You turn your face to him, letting your lips meet in a slow, deep, kiss.

Again, there’s nothing quite like kissing Seokjin. Namjoon is the love of your life and always will be, but there’s just something about Seokjin’s lips that you crave constantly. Something about the way he holds you both delicately and possessively. Or the way he looks at you after a kiss, like he’s just as lost in it as you are. Like he’s trying to figure out the answer to the question you’ve been asking since that weekend in the Swiss mountains.

He uses his tongue to tease your lips apart, making you gasp through a moan as he turns you around to face him, hands gripping your waist.

“Jinnie” you whine, your arms wrapping around his shoulders. His lips trail down your jaw to that special spot between your neck and shoulder.

“I’m sorry, y/n. We shouldn’t unless Namjoon’s around. But,” he leaves a small love bite on your shoulder, “you just have this effect on me. I can’t help it.”

You nod, moaning when you tug on his hair, making him suck harder on your skin. You’re going to be covered in bruises and hickies when you get home. You don’t care.

“What’d I miss?” Namjoon’s voice breaks you two apart, but only barely. Seokjin’s lips place soft kisses on your cheek and forehead while you look at the man you love.

“Jin told his manager to fuck off and wait until his vacation is over.”

“No he didn’t.”

“See?” You look at Seokjin, a playful smile and raised eyebrow, “you’re too nice.”

“I have to be. Or it ruins my reputation and makes me look like I’m difficult to work with.”

“But you are difficult to work with.”

“I take it back. I don’t miss you. I only miss Namjoon.” He jokingly shoves you away, stepping to move behind Namjoon, getting on his tiptoes to put his chin on the younger’s shoulder. “You’re too tall.” He grumbles, wrapping his arms around Namjoon’s middle.

Namjoon smirks, hands holding onto Seokjin’s forearms to keep him there.

“Well, I still think you’re too nice. You guys have fun. I’m going to get in the water.” You laugh, heading down the steps to the beach. You hear snickers, turning back briefly to see Namjoon turning in Seokjin’s arms to face him.

You look back towards the beach, allowing them privacy even though that word barely exists with you three.

The water is perfect. It’s not cold like the Pacific Ocean, not weirdly warm like the Atlantic. It’s a perfect balance.

You let your feet sink into the sand, the gentle waves slowly bringing you closer to the ocean as the sand keeps you still.

You love it here.

You love your job, love your life, love your friends, family, and your boyfriend.

But here? With not only your boyfriend but the man you crushed on for years that you now have the privilege to be with along with your boyfriend? For two whole weeks?

That’s heaven.

It’s felt right these two weeks with them. Any time it’s been just you and Namjoon, it’s been perfect as usual, but it always feels like something is missing.

Or rather someone.

You’re not sure how long you’re out here, staring at the horizon. The sand is halfway up your calves and the waves are hitting your upper thighs by the time two large arms wrap around your middle, body draping over your back as lips find refuge on your neck.

You smile, sighing as you relax in his hold, tilting your head to the opposite side so he has better access.

“Where’s my Jagi right now?” Namjoon’s voice barely breaks above the waves, only enough because it’s right by your ear.

“Thinking.”

“About?” His nose nudges under your ear.

“Us.” You pause when you feel him tense, “us and Jin.”

“What about us and Jin?” His body relaxes, but barely. You use his hold on you as support as you pull your feet from the sand, both of you stepping a little further from the ocean when you turn to face him.

“What is this to you, Joon?” Your arms snake around his neck, fingers dancing through his hair there. “Or rather, what is Jin? I know last year he was my present or whatever, but…that was nine months ago. And after all the texts with photos and videos and the times we’ve been with him…I don’t know. I need some sort of understanding before this gets too much.”

Namjoon’s eyes stay steady on you the entire time, the hands sitting on your waist, holding you gently, yet firm enough to keep you still. His thumbs rubbing circles through the shirt.

“Too much, how?” Is all he asks.

“I…I don’t know. Too much like he’s part of this? Too much like my crush from before you comes back and causes issues?”

“How would that cause issues, Jagi?”

“I don’t want to choose…”

“Baby,” Namjoon smirks, leaning in to kiss your forehead, “there is nothing to choose. I’m yours forever and if you want him, too…as long as he wants you back…I’m pretty sure I’ve done nothing but show you I’m very okay with sharing you.”

“That’s nice and all and I love you for that,” you pull away from him just slightly, forcing him to look at you again, “but what about you? What is this to you? It can’t just be me with two boyfriends. I mean, it can. But…what about you and Jin?”

And that’s where his confidence falters, for just a moment, you see it in his eyes and the way his lips twitch.

He comes up with nothing when his mouth opens to speak, face contorting almost into confusion.

“Joon? You okay?”

“Yeah…I just…” you let him pause, finding the right words as his eyes flit behind you to the crashing waves. It’s hard to bite back the smile when you try to soothe whatever worries he seems to have by massaging his nape. His eyes close momentarily before opening again, landing on your own.

“I don’t know yet. But…I think there’s something…between him and I, I mean.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he nods slowly, eyes back on the ocean, “I just don’t know what exactly it is. If it’s just because of you or if it’s something else entirely? It’s confusing.”

“It’s okay, Joon. You don’t need to figure anything out right this second, but we should all sit down and figure this out at some point…maybe not tomorrow, though.”

“Why not tomorrow?” His head tilts to the side, looking back at you.

“Your birthday? The whole reason we went on this trip?”

It takes two seconds of silence before he starts fully laughing, having to back away from you to bend over.

“I’ll be one hundred percent honest, I totally forgot.”

…

“You can’t be serious.”

“I was just treating it like a vacation with my best friend and my girlfriend.”

“Oh my god, Kim Namjoon. You’re an actual goober!” You playfully smack his shoulder, laughing with him. He takes the perfect opportunity to launch himself at you, bending slightly to pick you up by your thighs. You both laugh as your legs wrap around his waist, arms around his shoulders again.

It’s a playful series of events, he threatens to lean forward, dumping you into the waves, you returning the threat with your own of no skin contact for a month, and just all around cuteness between you both that you’d be lying if you said wasn’t one of your favorite things about him. He’s so serious at work, so serious in most social situations. Except for with you, where he can be himself; laughing, dancing badly, making really terrible dad jokes, and just being your Namjoon.

That night, the three of you are all dressed up for dinner reservations Seokjin made at the five star restaurant at the resort you’re staying at.

Both men go for formal casual; slacks, a tucked in button up shirt, leaving the first three buttons undone for an added we’re on vacation and gorgeous models look that Seokjin will not shut up about.

You dress up in a little black mini dress. It isn't too short to be informal, but just short enough that Namjoon’s hands stay on your thigh during dinner and Seokjin playfully grabs at your ass when you are waiting to be seated.

Seokjin has the staff come sing happy birthday to Namjoon, the man’s face turning the deepest shades of embarrassment until the staff leave.

Two bottles of expensive wine and a delicious meal later, the three of you are walking lazily down the pathway back to the villa. Seokjin directly behind you, his hands wandering your body as he kept you against his chest.

Mumbles of your nickname are pressed against your neck as he kisses and licks the skin there, not caring about where you are walking.

With your head tilted to give him more access, your hazy eyes find your boyfriend a few feet away, holding onto the jacket you thought you might need, as well as your purse and heels you ditched at one point. He’s smiling his I’m tipsy grin, dimples peeking through as he watches his best friend cling to you.

When you step past the front door of the villa, your body is quickly turned, back pressed up against the wall as Seokjin lifts your legs around his waist to bruise your neck some more.

Your moans are cut off by your boyfriend’s words.

“Hyung.” Seokjin quickly removes his lips from your skin. Head turning to look at his friend. “Bed.” Is all he says, tossing your stuff on the couch on the way to the bedroom. Seokjin smirks, tightening his hold on you as he pulls off the wall and heading to the bedroom with you in his arms.

Namjoon is already standing by the foot of the bed, shirt pulled out of the waistband of the slacks that are unbuttoned, but still sitting on his hips. There’s a very prominent bulge peeking through the pants and it’s amazing how nervous it still makes you after all these years.

There’s a silent exchange between the two men as Seokjin lays you down on the bed, letting you scoot back towards the headboard as he crawls over you. His mouth is on your neck again, wet lips marking anywhere he can.

A free hand feels its way down your body, long fingers heading straight to your clothed center. He pushes a finger against your entrance, the fabric gathering up the arousal.

You both let out a curse, your hips rolling up to meet his hand, trying so hard to get his finger to fully enter you. But it doesn’t, he teases you repeatedly, gathering more slick against your underwear until your boyfriend’s voice off to the side tells him to stop.

It’s almost like deja vu the way Seokjin pulls your underwear off, and hands it directly to Namjoon, who’s sitting in a chair next to the bed, cock already in his hand.

Your eyes stay on the way the underwear slides against his erection, the amount of arousal on the fabric mixing with his own.

But his eyes? His eyes are on Seokjin. The way his fingers dig into your flesh as they roam your body.

No. Not again.

“Jin, off.” You whisper it, having to repeat it a little louder when he ignores you in favor of kissing your jaw.

“You okay?” His whisper is panicked, hands leaving your skin to hold himself above you by placing them on either side of you on the bed.

“Yeah,” you nod quickly, “just…the birthday boy.” Your eyes find Seokjin’s and you don’t know when it happened, but somehow you two developed a similar mind. He nods, kissing your nose and rolling off you to sit at the head of the bed, lightly palming himself.

You grin, crawling off the bed, making sure Seokjin has a perfect view of your soaked center sans underwear.

“Joonie, join us.” You stand in front of him at his chair, light fingers taking the underwear away from his cock.

“I’m okay here, baby. Get back to hyung.”

You shake your head, and he doesn’t hesitate to help you when you straddle his lap, his cock teasing your clit as you settle down.

“Come.”

“That’s my line.”

You roll your eyes at his beautiful dimples, leaning down to kiss each one.

“It’s your birthday, Joonie. Let us take care of you.”

“It’s not my birthday yet.”

“As of seven minutes ago, it is officially your birthday, Kim Namjoon.” Seokjin’s voice comes from the bed, phone in hand with a shit eating grin on his face. You grin as well, looking back at your boyfriend.

“See? It’s your day, baby.” You coo, brushing his hair back. “What would you like for your birthday?”

“What are you doing?” He questions, eyes trying to decipher your smile.

“I just want my Joonie to be happy and properly taken care of.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Now, be good and get on the bed.”

“Oh, you’re telling me what to do now?”

You hum, nodding as you stand up between his legs, holding your hands out for him, palms up. He gives you a look before looking over at Seokjin and smiles nervously, taking your hands and standing with you.

You back up to the bed, pulling him with you with a smile. You only let go to tug the slacks and briefs off the rest of the way.

“Sit next to Jin.” You quietly command, letting him move past you to get on the bed, sitting next to Seokjin, who at some point pulled all his clothes off except his underwear.

Still in your dress, you crawl back onto the bed, a smirk forming when it appears Namjoon knows exactly what you’re doing and spreads his legs just slightly. Just enough to let you get comfortable on your stomach and your arms resting on his thighs.

“Happy birthday, Joonie.” You grin, taking his cock in your hand and giving it a single pump, standing it up in front of you. Your lips sneak small kisses up and down his length, longer ones on his tip, before slowly easing his entire length down your throat. Holding him there in your mouth, a free hand cradles his balls in your palm, giving them a gentle massage that makes him groan, hands clutching your hair.

“God, she’s too good at that.” Seokjin murmurs, your lips wrapped around Namjoon’s tip, tongue teasing at the slit that’s already oozing with precum.

“I bet you’d do just— ah, fuck,” Namjoon’s head falls back, hitting the headboard as you take him down in one go without warning. “You’d do just fine, hyung.”

“Oh, I know I would. I’d do more than fine.” Seokjin’s quick to quip and you can’t help but smile internally, lifting your mouth off and away from your boyfriend’s cock.

“Prove it.”

Both men stare at you, one turning a deep shade, the other almost laughing if not for the shock of the call out.

“That’s not…” Seokjin stutters, still trying not to smile.

“Not what? Joonie loves his cock sucked. You have amazing lips and your mouth is big enough, I’m sure you could take him all.”

“Baby.” Namjoon warns but you ignore the tone, looking at him with pleading eyes.

“Jin needs to prove himself, Joon. Is it okay if he helps me with your cock?”

Namjoon’s eyes stay locked on yours. You can’t tell if he’s angry or nervous, but it’s enough to make you feel like submitting to whatever he wants, but also rebel against everything and anything he says.

Not to mention, the shooting jolt of arousal you get from just that gaze is enough.

It’s Seokjin’s voice that breaks through the staring contest.

“I’ll be good, Joon. I promise.”

Namjoon’s eyes tear away from yours to Seokjin’s so fast, you think his neck would’ve snapped.

You keep watching your boyfriend for any sort of negative reaction.

But his eyes dance from eye to eye to lips, back to his eyes and next thing you know, Namjoon is nodding, sliding further down the bed to give you both access.

You share a look with Seokjin, both ending in a grin as you take place on the bed between Namjoon’s legs. Your boyfriend is muttering something quietly to himself, his arm thrown over his face.

You give Seokjin’s cheek a kiss, a hand pressing soothing circles into Namjoon’s thigh. Seokjin reaches out for Namjoon’s cock, almost mimicking your actions from moments ago. You watch in awe as his lips prove to be perfect for this activity, his mouth wide enough to take Namjoon down without a problem.

“Fuck, so fucking good.” Namjoon mutters, biting his forearm. You can’t fight the smirk when you and Seokjin dive in at the same time, licking and kissing along his shaft and tip, both taking turns with his balls.

Namjoon is going insane, fighting the urges to either force both of you closer to his cock until he’s coming across both of your faces, or to fill Seokjin’s mouth with himself until Seokjin’s crying and coming down his throat. He so desperately wants to regain control, but if this is what happens when he doesn’t have control?

Fuck that. No better time to give it all up than right now.

“Fuck, okay you have to stop or I’m going to explode.”

You look away from Seokjin’s swollen lips around Namjoon’s tip to look back at your boyfriend, who has his eyes on the ceiling, afraid to look down at the two of you for it might make him come.

“That’s not how you ask.”

“Baby.” There’s that warning tone again.

“Joonie.” You mock the tone, Seokjin pulls off, giving his tip one last lick.

“Tell him, princess.”

You grin, wrapping your hand around Namjoon’s shaft, pumping hellishly slow.

“Come on, Joonie. Be good for us. Ask correctly.”

It takes a few more pumps, Seokjin next to you, kissing your shoulder, before Namjoon lets out a deep whine, voice cracking when he finally speaks.

“Please stop. I need you to stop before I come. Please, baby.”

“I like that word coming from those lips,” Seokjin giggles, “no offense, princess. It’s just hotter.”

“None taken. I agree a hundred percent.”

“You two are the worst.” Namjoon’s muffled words send you both into a giggle fit, giving one another a small high five.

“It’s what we strive to be, Joon.” Seokjin nods in agreement, arms wrapping around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder.

“Now, since you clearly need a minute, how about I take care of the princess for a moment?” Seokjin’s lips trail up your neck to your jaw and finally seal your lips with his. He tastes like Namjoon, and you’d be lying if you said that didn’t make you want to come right then and there.

Namjoon nods, muttering approval before you’re yoinked away from your boyfriend, giggling when you’re pulled on top of Seokjin. It’s a fumble getting his briefs off as well as your dress, but you manage to do it, out of breath from laughing too much at the end.

You sit up, your mind in a blissful happiness you can’t describe at the sight of both men on the bed.

“I’m too lucky.” You whisper, using one hand to steady yourself over Seokjin’s hips, the other wrapping around his cock, giving it a few pumps to coat it with his own precum. His hands find your hips, holding tightly as you align him with your center, sinking down until he’s fully inside.

“Shit,” you curse, loving the stretch while you slowly lift your hips, circling them at the same time.

“Come on, princess. Show me what you can do.” Seokjin coos, giving your ass a light spank to encourage you to move. You scoff, grabbing the hand on your ass to hold it there as you pick up the pace, bouncing on him.

Seokjin’s cock is perfection, honestly. Or as close to it as one can get. Namjoon’s is too. But goddamn Kim Seokjin’s dick can make you see stars.

Neither of you notice Namjoon getting on his knees to crawl to you, grabbing your face and kissing you like he’s never kissed you before.

It’s hunger, lust, love, vulnerability, and just everything kissing should be with the one you love.

You melt into him, your pace slowing again on Seokjin’s hips, your hands reaching to hold your boyfriend’s face.

It’s not enough.

“Joonie,” you breathe against his lips, your hips stilling, “I need you.”

“Wait until hyung’s done, baby.”

You shake your head almost too fast, pushing him back a bit. You gesture to Seokjin to fully lay down, laying across his torso, lifting your ass up as if you’re presenting yourself to him.

“Both, Joonie. Want you both.” You moan against Seokjin’s collarbone, your hips rolling against his own, keeping his cock inside you.

There’s a breath of a curse and your princess nickname under you, his hands holding your waist as you still.

“Jagi,” Namjoon chokes in his next breath, eyes focused on your stretched cunt swallowing Seokjin whole, “are you sure?”

“Yes. I need it, baby. Wanna feel you both.”

“You’re not nearly stretched enough.”

“I’m fine. Please.”

“If she says she’s fine, she’s fine, Joon. Please hurry up.” Seokjin tries to joke, but his jest is cut off by a groan when you lift your hips and slam them back down for some kind of friction. “Princess, behave. I’m trying to help you.”

“Both.” You whimper desperately. “Need you both.”

“Listen to her, Joonie,” Seokjin teases, spreading his legs some, “she needs us. You gave control. Do as she says.”

“I did not give her control.”

“Joonie.” You cry with another roll of your hips.

“Shit, Jagi. Okay.” His voice is rushed as he gets in his knees between Seokjin’s legs.

“He’s so whipped for you, princess.”

You giggle softly into Seokjin’s neck. The three of you have to maneuver around just a little for the right angle, but you finally feel the tip of your boyfriend’s cock along your inner thigh.

You clench at the sensation, quietly apologizing to Seokjin when he gasps.

“Relax, princess. You have to relax if you want us both.”

“I do. I do, I do. Want you both.”

“Kiss me.” Those two words have your head spinning as you lift it to melt your lips to his.

In the back of your mind, you know what he’s doing. He’s distracting you, giving you something else to focus on and relax. And goddamn does it work. You get so lost in the feeling of his lips, the way his tongue dances with yours, and matching your breathing to his, that you barely notice Namjoon pressing inside of you, cock sliding against Seokjin’s. Not until Seokjin lets out a guttural groan at the pressure.

Then you feel it.

How full you feel.

Both men inside you.

How it should be.

No choices. No turns. Just together. The three of you.

The stretch is intense. Borderline painful. But you’re so aroused from just the fact that both the men you love so much are inside you at the same time, that the pain lessens quickly.

“You okay, Y/N?” Namjoon’s voice echoes against your ear.

You try to hold yourself up to lean into him, but feel your arms giving out. As if he knows what is happening, because of course he knows, an arm snakes its way around your middle, holding you up against him, allowing you to focus on the feeling of them.

“Full.” You mutter, hand reaching behind you to run your fingers through Namjoon’s hair. “So full. ‘Sokay though, you can move.”

His lips press against your ear, then your neck, ending on your shoulder as he gives Seokjin a look before they both nod, alternating their thrusts. Every time Namjoon pulls back, Seokjin pushes further in and vice versa.

It feels too fucking good. But you can’t do it yet. You can’t come yet. You need the feeling to last longer. You try to prolong the feeling, rolling your hips to meet with Namjoon’s thrust, clenching around him as you do so.

You shouldn’t have done that.

Instead of prolonging it, it just forces your orgasm. Your sensitive clit rubs just the right way against Seokjin’s pelvis, making you cry out in complete euphoria.

“Oh, fuck!” Namjoon’s voice cracks behind you, hips stuttering before pressing flush against you.

You can feel his cum pooling inside of you, spreading around with your own arousal as Seokjin’s thrusts continue, encouraging Namjoon to keep coming until they both have to pull out from you and Namjoon becoming oversensitive.

Namjoon falls back from his sitting position on his knees to on his ass, hands holding him up behind him. You roll off Seokjin, eyes shut as you breathe heavily. Your body can’t decide between closing your legs to keep Namjoon’s cum inside and keeping your legs open because of the soreness and sensitivity.

It takes a few seconds before you hear a body shuffling on the bed and a gasp from beside you.

“What are you doing?!” Seokjin whisper-shouts. Your eyes fly open as you turn to look at the gorgeous sight beside you.

Seokjin is still lying down, legs spread. But he’s looking down between them where Namjoon has settled on his stomach, hand cautiously wrapped around Seokjin’s still hardened erection.

“You haven't come yet.” Namjoon states.

“So, what? You’re gonna jerk me?”

“No? I was gonna try…sucking.”

You and Seokjin both snicker at the same time, much to Namjoon’s annoyance.

“Oh. I can’t decide if that was adorable or fucking hot.” Seokjin cackles, a hand holding Namjoon’s face gently. Namjoon tries swatting the hand away, losing very quickly when you’re suddenly laying on your stomach as well, but near Seokjin’s side.

“It was both. One hundred percent, it was both.” You kiss the cheek not being cradled. “Want some help?”

It’s the way he nods so nervously that makes your heart burst. You grin, settling in closer.

“Well, you’ve seen me do it a million times. Use the lips, avoid teeth, the balls are fun, always kiss the tip, know your limits.” You give the instruction fairly easily, trying not to giggle at his anxiousness. “You’ll be okay, Joonie. And if you don’t like it, you can stop at any time.”

“I’d rather he didn’t, though.”

“Jin.” You warn, glaring at the handsome idiot.

“Don’t Jin me! You both came already! I’m dying here!”

Namjoon snorts, not hesitating or giving any warning when he leans forward to kiss Seokjin’s tip.

“Oh— fuck.” Seokjin’s hand leaves Namjoon’s face, hitting the mattress by his thigh, and taking a deep breath when Namjoon slowly wraps his lips around the head, tongue dancing along the slit.

You watch in awe, giving words of encouragement as Namjoon lowers his mouth further down Seokjin’s cock, trying his best to take as much as he can. His hand cradles his balls, massaging them gently, but giving a small tug every now and again.

“You’re doing so good, Joonie.” You praise over and over, running your hand through his hair, “make him come, baby. Make him lose control the way you do to me.”

Namjoon finally hits his gag reflex, coughing slightly around Seokjin. His eyes lift to find Seokjin’s head leaning back, hand hitting the mattress again, fingers digging into the blanket.

“Careful.” Your eyes widen slightly, resisting the urge to pull him off. If Namjoon wants to stop, he’ll stop.

Also the sight and sounds are way too erotic to want to stop him.

Seokjin’s head snaps forward at the feeling of Namjoon’s free hand pulling the hand tangled in the sheets, placing the hand in his hair.

Their eyes meet.

Seokjin smiles, his fingers tangling in Namjoon’s hair as the younger’s head lifts to wrap around the tip, tongue teasing it.

“Goddamn, Joonie, that’s fucking perfect.” Seokjin lets out a light laugh, almost in disbelief at what’s happening. His hand slowly presses his head down, making Namjoon take more of him until it hits the back of his throat again.

You honestly don’t know what to do yourself. Do you touch them? Join in? Say something? Encourage them to continue? Honestly, you’d rather just sit back and enjoy the visual of your boyfriend and best friend enjoying one another.

You do, however, find yourself rolling your hips against a blanket, soaked center making it perfect for your clit to glide along as you watch.

And of course, Namjoon knows what you’re doing, even with his best friend’s dick down his throat. The free hand that had Seokjin’s trades with the one cradling his balls, quickly pulling the blanket away from you. You whine in protest, but his hand quickly finds its way between your legs, long fingers collecting up arousal and cum to spread around your clit.

Your hips buck up closer to his hand, whimpering when a finger finds its way past your entrance, pumping you in perfect timing with the way he bobs his head.

You know exactly what the fuck he’s doing.

It takes barely a few minutes of the synchronized bobbing and pumping until Seokjin is almost in tears, moaning loudly as he comes down Namjoon’s throat at the same time your hips lose any and all sense of rhythm, coming around Namjoon’s fingers as you hug Seokjin’s thigh.

Your come down is broken through when you hear Seokjin mutter come here and both hands grab at Namjoon, pulling him up his body to kiss him.

To actually kiss him.

Seokjin kissing Namjoon.

After Seokjin just came down Namjoon’s throat.

And Namjoon is kissing him back, open mouth, tongues tangling together.

This is the fucking dream.

You mutter a soft curse, lazily grinning at the sight. Seokjin seems to be the only one who hears you, pulling away from Namjoon’s lips with a grin.

“Happy birthday, Joonie.” Seokjin gives another peck on the lips. Namjoon sighs into the quick kiss, lips faintly chasing the other’s.

“You finally got your kiss, Jin.” You tease, the three of you giggling together. You scoot back a little bit, letting Namjoon get off Seokjin, laying between you both.

“Finally.” He laughs as you throw your leg over Namjoon’s right leg, head ducking under his arm to rest on his chest. Seokjin is quick to mimic the position on the opposite side of Namjoon, who seems too blissfully out of it to care about the teasing.

It’s silent for a moment, but your brain won’t shut up.

And of course, Namjoon knows.

“So should we have that talk now?” Namjoon’s words are quiet against the silence of the three of you in the afterglow moments. Both you and Seokjin make questioning noises, prompting you to look up.

“What talk?”

“Jagi…wanna tell him?”

Your eyes widen in a small panic, but Namjoon’s fingers dance along your spine reassuringly.

You can do this. It’s fine. It’ll be fine.

“Uh, Jin. I don’t want this to be…like Namjoon and myself in a relationship with you as a bonus. I want the three of us to be…”

“A throuple?” Seokjin’s quick to catch on. Namjoon smiles, eyes shut.

“If you want. Clearly, you and Joon have something. You and I have something. Obviously Joon and I have something…”

“I’d be happy to be a boyfriend to you both.”

You can feel Namjoon’s heart pounding under your cheek, your own heart doing the same.

“Yeah? Officially?” You just know the way you’re grinning looks like a child told they’re going to Disneyland, and you don’t fucking care. This is so much better.

“As long as this guy wants it,” his head jerks up to the man lying between you both, arms wrapped around both of you. He’s got a smug smile with his beautiful puffy lips.

“I do.” Namjoon confirms with a sigh, “dunno how I’m gonna deal with both of you when you’re being brats, but…”

“We are never brats.”

“Yeah!” Seokjin lightly hits Namjoon’s stomach, “maybe it’s just that you are a strict spoilsport. Ever think about that?”

“You’re literally being a brat right now.” Namjoon’s monotone voice cracks with just a hint of amusement. You stay silent, curling up closer to Namjoon as they continue to bicker with a smile.

“Wow. Day one of our relationship, and you’re already being so rude. Do you even know who I am? How lucky you are?”

You bite back the laugh, letting yourself fall asleep to the voices of your two boyfriends.

When you wake up the next morning, it’s to the sound of screaming. But not from either of the men you fell asleep with.

“Sorry! Sorry sorry sorry! We’ll just…we’ll be out here! Yoongi, come on!” You know that voice. Why is that voice in Greece?

Oh fuck.

Once the bedroom door closes, you sit up quickly, your head spinning from the sudden position change as you wrap the blanket around your top half. You leap out of bed, trying to find clothes.

“Y/N? Care to explain?” Namjoon’s voice is higher than normal, still sitting upright in the bed.

Fuck.

“This was the wrong way to surprise you.” You throw some shorts, a tank top, some underwear and a bra onto the bed, quickly getting rid of the blanket to change.

“I was supposed to wake up early and let them in and we’d make breakfast and it’d be a whole big birthday thing. But then we…last night…and I just…forgot.”

“You forgot Yoongi and Jimin were going to be joining us in Greece?”

“Don’t even start!” You button the shorts around your waist, throwing the tank top on after. “You forgot your own birthday!”

“He forgot his birthday?” Seokjin makes his appearance from the bathroom, looking as disheveled as you do in his haste to put on clothes. He sits on the bed, toothbrush in his mouth. The only one still naked is Namjoon, who just has a blanket covering his bottom half.

“For like a moment.” The birthday boy shrugs. You cut him off before he can continue.

“Whatever. Jin and I will go set things up. You put some pants on and laze about or something, you birthday grump.”

“Not a birthday grump.”

“I thought you’d be happy with your friends out here with us.”

“I am, Jagi. I am and I love you for it. But they just saw both of my partners naked in bed with me and you know I don’t like others seeing what’s mine.”

You have to remind yourself that Yoongi and Jimin are just outside the door. You cannot tease your boyfriend into fucking you right now.

“Joonie. They’re together. They don’t care about what they see. Yoongi and I are like siblings.”

“He’s still possessive.” Seokjin shrugs, returning to the bathroom to spit out the toothpaste. You swap places with him, quickly brushing your teeth and trying not to look like a complete mess.

Namjoon’s at the door when you leave the bathroom, pants on but no shirt.

Damn him.

You pout. But not for the reason he thinks.

“Thank you for inviting Yoongi and Jimin out here for my birthday, baby.” His voice is softer, hands reaching for your waist.

“I just wanted it to be a fun birthday.”

“It’s been a great birthday so far. I’m sure it’ll get even better. Thank you.” He presses his lips to yours, lips tugging into a smile when you melt against him. When he just barely pulls away, he mumbles “I love you, Jagi.”

“I love you, too.” You sigh against his lips. The sound of something moving on the bed pulls you away, making you laugh when Seokjin appears by you.

“Excuse me, I paid for their flights. Where’s my thank you kiss?”

“Shut up, hyung.” Namjoon rolls his eyes, grabbing Seokjin by the back of the neck and cutting off any sassy responses with a kiss. Seokjin melts into him just like you did, but pushes away after a second.

“Brush your teeth, stinky. You taste like last night. Let’s go, princess.”

Seokjin’s hand grabs yours, pulling you out of the bedroom and into the living room where the two wait.

“So…” Yoongi’s voice trails, eyes set directly on your joined hands.

“What’s going on with you three?” Jimin completes the question for Yoongi, who’s sitting on the couch with him, legs crossed and foot tapping the air.

“We’re uh…together.”

“Did you and Joon break up?”

“Nope.”

“We’re all together now. The three of us.” Seokjin explains further for you.

Both boys sit there, Jimin with an amused, almost shocked expression, and Yoongi of course stone faced. It’s silent until Yoongi finally smiles.

“You’re welcome.” Is all he says, standing up from the couch and heading to the kitchen

“I said it wouldn’t happen. Yoongi said otherwise.” Jimin giggles, bouncing up. “Okay, let’s go make the birthday boy some food!”

“Nope. You’re banned from kitchens, remember?” Yoongi grabs both of Jimin’s wrists before he can reach for any utensil.

“Minnie, help me decorate and let the old men cook.” You call out, ignoring the shocked gasp from your boyfriend.

Jimin sighs, joining you, the other banned one, to help decorate.

Namjoon joins half an hour later, trying to help you and Jimin decorate, only to be banned after he pops a confetti balloon. He tries to help in the kitchen, but Yoongi goes off on him when he tries to cut a vegetable incorrectly.

“I thought you’re supposed to be nice and loving to people on their birthday.” He grumbles from the couch.

Jimin has taken over the decorations, his interior design skills coming in handy to make it look perfect. You are settled on the couch next to Namjoon, curling up in his arms.

“You’re also not supposed to help with your birthday party, silly.” You both laugh, watching the ridiculousness going on in this villa in Greece of all places.

“Thank you again, baby.” Namjoon whispers against your temple, a kiss following after, “This has been an amazing trip.”

“Of course, Joonie. And thank you for being the man I love. Happy birthday.” You look up, smiling before your lips find his, and you feel whole. Jimin says something and Namjoon pulls away to respond. You take a second to look over at the kitchen.

Yoongi’s ranting about how annoying grocery shopping is on the island, but Seokjin’s not paying attention. His eyes are on you and Namjoon, handsome face smiling ear to ear.

You can’t help but smile back.

You have the man you’ve loved for years and the man you know is your soulmate. You don’t need anything else.

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to-read-is-to-dream · 11 months ago

Text

Thank My Lucky Stars

Pairing: bts ot7 × fem reader

Word Count: 2,681

Summary: You're on your period and the boys do everything they can to make you feel better.

Warnings: mentions of menstrual cycle (I honestly dk if periods need warnings? But better safe than sorry), menstrual cramps, reader goes through extreme mood swings but mostly just fluff.

A/N: Honestly, I started my period two days ago and was wishing that I had a bf to take care of me and stuff, and the next thing I knew, this fic wrote itself. It's definitely very self-indulgent lol, and basically everything the reader does is what I've did so far lmao. I hope this fic makes you atleast half as happy as it made me! P.S. It's been a ridiculously long time since I've written, and it's my first time writing for bangtan, so go easy on me!

Today was just another day. You wake up from your bed, feeling fatigued. Ugh, why does my body ache all over, you think to yourself, getting up from the bed as you stretch. You feel the tell tale sign of cramps in your abdomen, but dismiss it immediately, as your period wasn't due for the next two weeks. You brush your teeth and wander out of your room mindlessly, wondering what the boys were up to.

You find Taehyung in the living room, watching TV. “Good morning,” he says with a smile as you flop down on the couch next to him. “morning,” you grunt back. Taehyung, being the cuddly person he is, wraps his arm around you like he usually does, only for you to shrug him off. “Aw, why won't you let me hold you?” he whines, pouting at you. “Sorry Tae, but I'm not feeling good.” “Then it's the perfect time for cuddles! It's bound to make you feel better! C’mere” he says as he drapes himself over you again but you end up wrenching himself out of his grip, looking mad. “I said I wasn't in the mood for cuddles, Taehyung!” You yell at him. Taehyung flinches and looks hurt. Realising what you just did, you thought to yourself, Damn, why did I just snap at Tae like that? He didn't do anything wrong, he was just being his usual self. What's wrong with me? “Tae, I'm sorry-” but before you could finish your sentence Taehyung runs off to his room and slams it shut. You smack yourself for hurting Tae as you slumped back onto the couch.

You just sit there for a while until Hobi tapped you on your shoulder. “Y/N-ah?” You snap out of your thoughts.“What?” you bark at him. “Are you feeling alright?” “Why wouldn't I be?” you ask, slightly irate. “It's just that I went to your room and saw the covers stained.” he says softly. Oh. That's why I've been testy all morning. But it wasn't supposed to arrive until two weeks later! Ugh, I hate this. “I know that you would have cleaned it up already if you had noticed, but since you didn't, I'm assuming you didn't see.” “Yeah” you looked down, embarrassed. “Sorry you had to see that.” Hobi lifts up your chin. “Hey, don't apologise. It's just your period, something which you naturally go through. You don't have to feel bad about it, okay?” You nod. “Good. Now you should probably freshen up. Go to the bathroom, I'll bring you some clothes and a pad. Which one do you need?” “I can get it myself-” Hobi shushes you. “Shower. Now. I'll get you what you need.” “Oh-kaayyyyyy bossy pants.” You give him a mock salute before walking off. He smiles at you, relieved that your period hasn't ruined your sense of humour.

In the bathroom, you turn on the shower and let it wash away all your worries, sighing appreciatively at how good the hot water felt against you. Then you hear a knock. “Y/N? I brought you your stuff.” You momentarily turn off the shower and slightly open the door, to reveal Hobi holding out your clothes, his face promptly averted from the door. You retrieve them from his hand. “Thank you Hobi!” you say and move to close the door, but he stops you. “Wait! You didn't tell me which pad you wanted, and you didn't have any left in your supply either, so I just bought a pack in every variant from your usual brand.” He says, and holds out a bag filled with pad packs of varying types. You find yourself internally going awww at his thoughtfulness, and after picking out what you need, you call out to him. “Hobi?” “Yeah?” “You're the best.” “Aw, it's nothing, Y/N. Now go shower!” He says and runs off, leaving you giggling in his wake.

After a nice hot shower, you change into a comfy hoodie and shorts, feeling significantly better than you did before. But that exact moment your cramps decide to hit you. “Ughhhhh”, you lean against the wall with a groan. Jungkook, who just woke up, spots you and rushes to support you. “Y/N! What happened? Are you alright?” he asks concernedly, wrapping his arms around your shoulders to steady you. “nnnnghhh. Period. Cramps.” you manage to croak out. “Oh no, that sucks,” he says as he gingerly picks you up. “Where do you wanna go?” “Room” you say, and bury your face in his chest. He slowly walks to your room, gently placing you on your bed and tucking you tightly under the covers. As he turns to leave, you grab his hand. “Stay, please? I don't wanna be alone.” He gives you a reassuring smile as he lies down next to you, gently rubbing your back, lulling you slowly to sleep.

You wake up to someone softly pushing your hair out of your face. Blinking open your eyes, you realise it's Jimin. “Hey. Did I wake you up?” “Yeah, but I don't mind. What's the time?” “About 11, I guess.” He kisses your forehead softly. “How are you feeling now?” “A little better, but still sore.” Jimin looks at you sadly, bummed that he can't do anything that'll make your pain go away. But he can distract you from it.

“I brought you something.” He holds out a box that you recognise as one from your favourite bakery. Your eyes light up in delight. “Hobi hyung told me you didn't have breakfast, so I got you your favourite black forest cake.” He opens the box and picking off a piece with a fork, he offers it to you. You eagerly open your mouth and chew it, suddenly realising that you were hungry. He feeds you about two pieces before declaring that was enough or else you wouldn't eat lunch. He wipes away the cake crumbs from your lips and grins widely at the content smile on your face. “What are you grinning at?” you ask him. “Nothing, it's just…. I like seeing you smile.” You blush and duck your head, feeling shy. “I love you, Chim.” you mumble softly. “I love you too, Y/N-ah.” He brings his forehead to yours, booping your nose softly with his.

“Y/N? Are you awake?” You recognise Tae’s voice. “Come in!” Taehyung shuffles into the room, looking uncharacteristically hesitant. Before he could say anything, you start, “Tae, I'm so sorry for snapping at you like that. I swear didn't mean to-” he cuts you off mid sentence by planting a soft kiss on your lips. “It's alright, Jungkookie told me. I understand. You don't have to apologise.” You shake your head. “I do, though. You were hurt and it's my fault. I feel bad about it. Can you forgive me, please?” He giggles, and pats your head. “There's nothing to forgive, silly. I'm not mad at you. I am claiming my cuddles though, Jungkook told me you let him hold you!” You chuckle, “Come here, you big baby.” He moves to get into the bed before stopping. “Oh crap, I forgot why I came here. Jin hyung told me to ask you if you wanna come for lunch or if he should bring it to you. What do you say?” You think for a moment before replying. “You know what, I'm kinda bored of sitting in my room. I'll come! Just gimme a few, I wanna make myself presentable.” Taehyung gives you a once-over. “What do you mean, presentable? You look pretty as always.” “Oh yeah, my ridiculous bedhead and baggy eyes are soooo pretty.” “I don't care, you still look pretty.” You realise he isn't just saying that to make you feel better, but rather that's how you look in his eyes, and your heart melts. “Okay fine, I'm coming. At least let me use the restroom.”

You trudge slowly through the house, Taehyung's hand around your back. Everyone else except Jin is already seated at the table, apparently waiting for you. Their concern is evident in their eyes, but they seem to be content with Taehyung walking with you, so they remain seated.

You settle down in your chair, which you find has some soft pillows placed on it. You look around the table to find Yoongi looking away as soon as you meet his eyes, cheeks turning just a little pink. You smile to yourself, not saying anything. At that moment, Jin comes from the kitchen, bringing out various dishes and sets them on the table, giving you a comforting smile. You catch a whiff of your favourite dishes: kimchi jjigae, samgyeopsal, japchae, fried chicken, along with a pint of chocolate ice cream. “Oh, Jin, you shouldn't have troubled yourself so much!” Jin just smirked. “What makes you think it’s for you? Maybe I just wanted to cook a nice meal.” You pout at him, which makes him chuckle. “Of course I was joking, Y/N-ie. They were specially made for you.” he says with a comforting smile. You sniff slightly, which didn't go unnoticed. Jin, after sitting next to you, places a hand over your thigh and gives it a soft squeeze as if to say, “You're never alone.” You push back the tears and give him a smile. He heaps a good amount of all the dishes on your plate, handing it to you with a wink. You immediately dig into the food, sighing at how delicious they are. “It's official. I think Jin might be my favourite. He surely knows the way to my heart.” you exclaim, only half-joking. You certainly didn't miss the way his ears turned a bright red, a telltale sign that he is flustered. The others pretend to clutch their chest in offence, and you just laugh at them.

After a wonderfully fulfilling lunch, you settle on the couch once more, only to groan when cramps hit you again. “Aish, why does it hurt so much?” you accidentally voice your thoughts out loud. Yoongi, who hears it, fetches some more pillows to place them around so that you can sit down more comfortably. Before you could tell him to sit with you, he walks off. You sigh softly, knowing that he isn't big on openly showing affection. You're surprised though, when you feel someone tap your shoulder, and turn around to find Yoongi. “Hey.” “Hey yourself.”

“I thought this might help with the pain, so I brought you this.” He hands you a hot water bottle. You smile at him, realising that he'd rather show you his love through his actions rather than just being all lovey-dovey. “Thank you, Yoongi.” You wrap your arms around his neck, at which he turns slightly pink, but he hugs you back all the same. “Can I sit with you for a while?” he asked, rubbing his neck. “I thought you'd never ask.” You pull him down onto the couch, leaning into his side.

A few hours later, after Yoongi left, saying that ‘his affection quota for the day has been deplenished’, you are staring into space, debating whether you should go back to bed, when Namjoon walks into the living room, holding a steaming cup of what seems to be chai, guessing from the aroma wafting towards you. “Hey! How come I'm the one who's sick, yet you're the one who gets chai? So not fair!” you say, giving him sad puppy dog eyes. You definitely didn't expect him to stop before you and hand you the cup. “If you had just waited a moment before jumping to conclusions, Y/N-ah, you would have realised that I made this chai for you!” Your eyes widen. “Are you telling me that, you, Kim Namjoon, cooked something, without setting the entire kitchen on fire?!” “Hey!” he looks chagrined, and gives you a soft punch on your arm. “Is that so hard to believe?” he asks. When you just raise your eyebrows in response, he relents. “Fiiiiine, I might have had a little help, but it was my idea, and I did do most of the work! And anyway, it's the thought that counts, right?” “....riiiight. I do appreciate the chai, though.” You take the cup from his hands and take a small, careful sip. “Ahhhh, you definitely did a good job Joon, I love it.” He flashes you his usual dimpled smile, which never fails to set your heart fluttering. You pat the seat next to you. “Sit with me?” “I will, but there's something I have to take care of first,” he says and walks away. You look after him quizzically, wondering what he could have meant.

Moments later, he returns with a couple of blankets, and your favourite book. He plops down next to you, and you automatically rest your head on his lap. He pulls the blankets around you, wrapping you like a burrito. Once he makes sure you're all settled, he starts reading the book out aloud. As much as you loved reading on your own, listening to Namjoon read, in his comforting voice, is something you never get tired of. He softly plays with your hair, just the way you like it, as he reads through the book. You purr like a content cat, feeling warm and satisfied, slowly falling asleep.

When you wake up, it's late in the evening, and you find yourself sandwiched comfortably between Hobi, on whose shoulder your head is resting, and Jin, who's softly massaging your feet. Yoongi and Namjoon are sprawled on either side of Jin and Hobi respectively, eyes glued to the television, but both their hands behind you. You look down to find Taehyung squished between your legs. I guess he claimed that cuddle after all. Jungkook and Jimin rest on either of your knees, fighting with Tae for space.

You look around at them and your heart feels like it might burst out of your chest because you don't know what you must have done in your previous life to find these seven men. You start sniffling without realising, and before long, tears start streaming down your face. Jin notices and immediately wipes away your tears, looking concerned. “Love, what happened? Does it hurt too much?” The rest of the guys turn towards you immediately, their features etched with worry. “I know you usually avoid pills, Y/N, but do you need some right now? They could help.” Namjoon offers. “Maybe you just need another hot water bottle.” Yoongi moves to go to the kitchen but stops when you grab his wrist. “No, no, I feel good and all, it's not that. I'm just…so happy.”

“Eh? Why are you crying then?” Taehyung asks, confused. You sniff, unable to look at them. “It's just, you guys are so unbelievably sweet and loving! No one has ever taken such good care of me before, especially during my period, so I'm a bit overwhelmed, but in a good way. I just don't know what I did to deserve such amazing and wonderful, not one, but seven boyfriends. I don't even deserve you guys.” you start crying all over again.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Hobi rubs your shoulder soothingly. “Don't ever think that you're not worth all this, okay? You deserve everything, sunshine. You're the most beautiful, gentle, kind and caring person we've met, and frankly, we don't know how you manage to put up with all of our chaos!”

“Yes, Y/N, hyung is right! We are the lucky ones!” Jungkook exclaimed, giving you his doe eyes and bunny smile.

“We love you so much, Y/N-ah. Don't you ever forget that.” says Jimin, as he places a kiss on your thigh.

“I love you guys too. So much. You have no idea how much.”

“Oh, I think we have some idea,” Tae says, giving you his signature wink as you laugh and pull all of them into a huge cuddle. You close your eyes and savour the feeling of being surrounded by your loved ones, and thank your lucky stars for bringing them to you.

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to-read-is-to-dream · 1 year ago

Text

up close & personal

hyunsu ? x gn!reader

genre: what. mutual pining?

warnings: sweet home 2 spoilers, mentions of blood, injuries. hyunsu himself is a warning lowkey if u watched the last ep u probably get it… that’s all!

synopsis: You know Hyunsu so well. One year apart couldn’t possibly change that. Except if Hyunsu isn’t alone anymore.

authors note: realized at the end of this fic that i cld compare hyunsu’s current situation to venom like a little bit and that just makes everything so much easier somehow. anyways i don’t really like this but i needed to post smt for him after s2 so!

One year ago, you and Cha Hyunsu would’ve been sitting near the entrance of Green Home apartments, and he would be listening to you talk. One year ago, you would’ve firmly believed that by now, the world would’ve been restored to some kind of peace. It had, in a way, but certainly not in the one your past self would have hoped for. And certainly not the one Hyunsu would’ve wanted for the two of you.

Nevertheless, you remained grateful through everything— As much as you could manage. The shelter was as organized as possible and conflict was a surprisingly rare occurence. Things were alright. As long as you didn’t give time for the grief and terror to catch up to you.

But things couldn’t be calm forever. Especially not in the current state of your world.

When Eunyu disappeared with that man from the military, it only took a day before you grew restless enough to depart from the stadium. After all, Eunyu was the closest thing to a friend you had here, at this point. It only felt right to try and find her. And you did, surprisingly, along with a few familiar faces and an unknown one.

You didn’t expect for the evening you found your friend again to be the very same you would see the person you had considered closest to you at Green Home for the first time in… Over a year.

“Finally asleep.” you sighed quietly, watching Eunyu get the rest her body had probably been begging for. It was difficult to convince her you would stand watch and wait for your friend to wake up in her stead, but her exhaustion made her stop arguing eventually.

You turned towards the room he was in.

Cha Hyunsu.

You crossed your arms and sighed. One year without a single trace of him anywhere. And now he… Just reappears? You wanted to be surprised, but part of you really wasn’t. You were angry, just a little— Spending all this time telling yourself he was gone, only for him to come back as if nothing happened felt like a slap to the face. Still, you couldn’t blame him. Yet. You had no idea what happened to him during that time span.

You felt relieved, if anything.

After some hesitation, you walked over to the glass door. Your hand settled on the handle, pushing it open, before your eyes widened. Hyunsu was sitting on the hospital bed, stretching his neck quietly, not at all perturbed by anything. Hell, he even seemed peaceful.

More peaceful than you’d ever seen him.

You stepped inside quietly and let the door close behind you. Hyunsu continued to move his head, slowly, as if trying to relax, and didn’t acknowledge your presence. His shoulder was bloodstained, still, and his hoodie had cuts here and there. Messy as he appeared, this was your friend from Green Home, there was no denying it. You hadn’t even dared hope he could still be alive, after all this time. You couldn’t give your heart such a high possibility of suffering if he turned out to be gone.

And now he was here. So calm.

He opened his eyes with a soft sigh, before turning his gaze to you. “Finally decided to talk to me?” he asked. His tone was different. Too different. This did not feel like the kind of change that happened in a year. He smiled a little at your silence, tilting his head curiously. “No? Do you need more time? That would be too bad.”

He hopped off the bed with a huff and slowly walked over to you. The closer he got, the clearer it became that his eye color was different. Long gone was the blank, dark brown gaze that looked back at you when you two would talk— Replaced by a vibrant sky blue. A stark contrast from what you were used to, as was everything else about him, apparently. Be it his tone or his mannerisms, it all felt deeply wrong, like it wasn’t him at all. You furrowed your eyebrows but stood still, letting him walk to the very edge of your personal space.

“I’ve been waiting to see you for such a long while.”

“Huh?”

Hyunsu’s eyes widened a little before he grinned. This wasn’t … Him. Not exactly, at least. Not the one you talked to so much. But special-cases, or MH, essentially coexisted in one body. The monster forms around a person’s strongest desire, or whatever it was that scientist at the shelter said.

So perhaps, all the times you and Hyunsu had talked in the past had also been conversations that this side of him had been listening to.

A bit scary. You couldn’t really focus on that, though. You took a deep breath and looked at him.

“Is he well?”

He clicked his tongue, expression growing sour. “He’s fine. Let him get some rest. He’s tired.”

You nodded softly, gaze averting. That sounded fine enough to you. He was right, too, earlier— You had been avoiding talking to him since you met again. With the excuse of focusing on Yikyung and scavenging through the hospital, you had plenty of reasons to act as if you weren’t seeing the person you cared the most for after a whole entire year of thinking he was dead.

But you did feel his gaze on you the whole time. It was heavy, and remorseful. You’d planned to talk to him— In fact, that’s why you decided to come over to the room he was in. You hadn’t expected things to turn out this way, however. Seems like you couldn’t talk to your friend, yet.

“It’s nice to know you care, though.” he hummed, gaze never leaving your face. “He thinks about you so much, too.”

You looked back up at him. If this was the so-called monster part of Hyunsu, then what was his deal? A lot of questions about this situation flooded your head. “What are you playing at?”

He chuckled softly, before backing up just enough to hold up his hands in an innocent gesture. “Nothing as evil as you probably think.” he said, voice steady. “I just wanted us to talk. Just us.”

“Huh.”

“You see, your Hyunsu has an interest in you.” he said, tilting his head slowly. It felt as if he was analyzing you. It was a bit unsettling, but you didn’t bother breaking eye contact this time. “But I do, too. I’d say maybe… Even more than him?” his grin widened at his own words.

“I find it hard to believe you care about people.”

“And yet.” he scoffed, expression dropping to a blank one, seemingly annoyed. He dropped his arms to his sides and sighed. “We decided to work together. Couldn’t have him die on me, it wouldn’t be nice for anyone involved.”

You decided this Hyunsu seemed to mean it when he said they made a deal, just about as much as when he said he had an interest in you. So placing your trust in his bloodied hands for the time being, you tried to be less on guard. He wouldn’t kill you, or most importantly, Hyunsu. That was enough for now.

“Okay.” you sighed, crossing your arms. “So you want to talk?”

He smiled a little. “Yes.” he stated, before taking a step towards you. Only this time, he didn’t bother keeping a safe distance. His face was a touch too close to yours. “I’ve wanted to for a while.”

“You…” you paused for a moment, thinking. “Do you usually go around talking to people while getting so close to them?”

“I don’t go around talking to people.” he mocked your tone before scoffing, a grin pulling at his lips. He brought a hand up to your face, holding your cheek firmly. His focus turned to his hand, eyes narrowing in its direction. You felt his fingers loosen a little, as if he was trying to control how tightly he was holding you.

Which he was. Now it felt gentle. Almost unfitting. Not only that but the Hyunsu you knew was never this comfortable with anything close to physical affection. It felt so out of place.

“Does it bother you?” he whispered, eyes flitting over to meet yours again. He moved in closer, just enough for your noses to touch. He seemed to be having fun switching between looking at your eyes and at your lips. “Am I too close?”

Before you could think of a way to answer, you froze. The unfamiliar color in Hyunsu’s eyes dissipated, the cocky expression you were almost beginning to get used to replaced by a soft, almost startled one. His voice, much quieter now, whispered your name. Your eyes widened and you sighed in something akin to relief.

“Hyunsu.” you breathed out. The latter looked at you with a stunned look, struggling to find anything to say for a while. He looked into your eyes like he was making sure you were okay— Making sure you were really alive. His thumb moved back and forth softly over the skin of your cheek, his gaze scanning you in an almost panicked manner. He sighed shakily, before he brought your face into his shoulder. He seemed to be almost trembling.

“I’m sorry.” he exhaled, wrapping his other arm around your shoulders hesitantly. Still terrible at hugging. You’d missed those awkward displays of affection so much. “I… I’m sorry, it’s been… A very long time.”

“God, you’re so cruel, Cha Hyunsu.”

He tilted his head down into your neck. Now you felt his tears on your skin. He really hasn’t changed, you thought. It was obvious when he came running for help when Yikyung was badly injured, when he did everything to help her and went all the way to look for that kid— Cha Hyunsu hadn’t changed.

“I’m—”

“Quit apologizing.” you huffed, holding him tightly. “I missed you, too.”

Hyunsu sighed quietly, tightening his hold on you a little. He was relieved to finally have you with him again, but he couldn’t shake off his worries.

“You talked to… Him? Right?”

“I did.” you said, pulling away enough to look at him. The concern on his features was undeniable. “And it went fine. It’s okay.”

Hyunsu’s frown deepened. “I don’t know if it’s alright. Me staying… So close to you.”

“Don’t even think about disappearing on me again.” you warned, eyes widening. “I don’t care about any reason you give me— Don’t leave again.”

The boy sighed, averting his gaze for a moment, before slowly bringing it back to you.

“I won’t.” he assured, “I won’t leave you again.”

He closed his eyes and pulled you into another hug. He had to believe his existence on its own wouldn’t cause more problems for you to deal with. He had to trust that even if it did, you meant it when you said you didn’t mind. He knew you did. You always meant it.

He opened his eyes and looked at his reflection in the glass door just a bit further away. Seeing you in his arms should have been reassuring. But the blue hue of one of his eyes and the nagging voice in his head seemed to be laughing at his naivety. He pressed his eyes shut again and buried his face in your shoulder.

This is our priority, now. (I know.) No one else comes first. (I know.) Don’t let them get hurt.

I won’t.

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to-read-is-to-dream · 1 year ago

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imagining skz jisung x 9th!member reader, teasing him at the airport and being all bratty , and then at the hotel he fucks the brattiness out of you?

han jisung x 9th member!reader ... minors do not interact

you’re only acting like this because you know jisung can’t do anything because of the camera’s – dragging your bag , rolling your eyes when jisung tells you pick it up , throwing it over your shoulder almost hitting him , his mask covering his clenching jaw.

“sit down and be calm.” he tells you , you pout crossing your arms , he sits down next to you , scrolling through his phone. you decide to not listen , resting your hand on his thigh , inching up. he turns to you , eyes dark. he leaned over , his once again his mask saving him. “are you seriously gonna be a fucking brat right now?” you smile and he scoffs. “alright wait until we get to the hotel.”

he thinks about it the entire time on the plane , you were sitting in the back – but that still didn’t stop you , sending him dirty messages , you even go as far as to send him a few nudes , his cock straining against his pants , and that pissed him off even more , he couldn’t wait to get to the hotel.

and he didn’t wait , as soon as you get to the hotel , he doesn’t even go to his room , following straight behind you , slamming you up against the door. “i swear to god , if you don’t open this fucking door.” you smirked , opening the door , only for him to push you in the room.

he waste no time , ripping your clothes off , pushing you to bed face down ass up. “stupid slut , your pussy’s all wet , you get off on pissing me off.” he slams into you , roughly fucking you open. “acting like whore in front of all those fucking cameras.” he yanks your hair.

“j-jisung too much.” you screamed , the whole floor probably aware of what you were doing. “i don’t care , you were bold enough in front of the cameras.” he grunted. “now fucking take it!”

his thrust are ruthless , shoving your head into the pillows. “fu-fuck i’m gonna cum.” he groaned , your orgasm also approaching. he suddenly pulls out , you whine. “w-what?” he laughs , you hear the sounds of him jerking. “did you really think you were gonna cum?” you were about to cry. “pl-please.”

he ignores you , moaning as he squeezed his cock , his cum shooting out on your back and ass. he sighs , slapping your ass.

“next time don’t be such a slut.”

©LUVYENI

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to-read-is-to-dream · 1 year ago

Text

Nothing New (TEASER)

Idol!Bts x Choreographer!Reader

Hurt/Comfort, ANGST, Eventual Fluff, Jealousy, and Insecurities

Release Date: TBA

A/N: Hi guys! This one has been in the works for a WHILE, I keep getting stuck in certain parts, but I'll be done soon! For now, here is the little preview I posted about like a week ago. I hope you enjoy! Kissies and huggies!

Finally, a long-awaited date with all of you. The boys were filled with energy, talking and joking on the ride there, and you felt your heart growing lighter: you still had them.

They even helped you get off the car with all the gentleness in the world, helped you get in your seat and made sure you were completely comfortable.

The lightness quickly weighed down into something much heavier when you saw Joanna walk in and make her way to the table.

And the weight felt like it had been dropped to you feet when the guys scooted to make space for her, Namjoon even standing up to hug her and letting her sit first so she'd be in between him and Jungkook.

How long has it been since they hugged you with such happiness?

"Oh my god, Y/N, hi! The boys didn't tell me you would be here."

Something about the way she said "the boys" made your hands itch, almost as much as your throat itched to say 'likewise'.

"Welp. I'm here. Haha."

Dinner wasn't fun, to say the least.

Joanna was blatantly saying shit to embarrass you the entire time, and it even worse, your boyfriends seemed to be soaking up her every word, laughing whenever she pointed out something embarrassing about you when she knew you in high school.

"Yeah! And when we choreographed together, she would always forget her parts." She lets out a giggle and Hoseok laughs too: what's so funny?

"It was only once or twice." You groan, mostly to yourself, but Joanna hears it.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night."

Everyone laughs at her words again and suddenly, you start to think that staying home was the better option.

"I've always said she has the memory of a goldfish. Sometimes it felt like I was doing all the work because i constantly had to step in and help when Y/N froze up."

She turns to you to ask her next question:

"How are you doing now that I haven't been here to clean up after you? Are you making Jimin do it?" She laughs and nudges Jimin, who's sitting next to her, on the shoulder, and he happily shoves back with a bright smile on her face.

"I'm fine, it's rare that I forget stuff lately."

She gasps in a dramatic manner - you wish she would just disappear already.

"You? Not wasting time in rehearsal? Because you forgot? That's unheard of!"

You hate the way pretty much all of the guys laugh at her words: they know how much work you've put into being a good choreographer. Why were they laughing at you?

Suddenly, you feel the person next to you pressing up closer against you: Seokjin.

You look at him and he has a soft smile on his face, but not towards Joanna; his entire focus is on you.

"You have a really good memory darling. We can tell you've worked on it." The knot in your stomach softens its grip after hearing Seokjin's words, and for the first time since you got here, your smile is genuine.

"Anyways, how'd you injure yourself?"

"Oh, we were doing some cardio and I tripped. Fell at an awkward angle and it twisted my leg. Haha."

Joanna laughs a little too hard at this.

"I've always also said that for a supposed dancer you sure are clumsy as hell."

Some of the guys giggle at her comment, and you look down at your lap: why were they laughing at you?

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Seokjin sit up a little straighter, and you suspect he's gonna say something.

"Supposed dancer?" He raised a brow and to most people, it would've seemed like he was just egging onto the joke, but you and the rest of the table could tell that there was a serious undertone to his question.

It was no secret in your relationship with the guys that Seokjin had a specific soft spot for you – in a relationship as big as yours, its bound that all of you will have your weak spots for one another: Jungkook and Namjoon, Jimin and Taehyung, Hoseok and Yoongi, you and Seokjin.

So you were more than relieved when he met your gaze; he knew you were uncomfortable.

And as everyone knows, he's not one to stay quiet.

"I just mean it's surprising that for someone so clumsy she went into the professional world where coordination is crucial."

Jungkook uses this point to tease Namjoon, and thankfully the attention is taken off of you. You catch Seokjin's stare again and this time it's accompanied with an apologetic smile and him reaching out his hand to hold yours.

As your hands meet on top of the table, you seem to be the only one who notices the look Joanna sends you at the display of affection.

............................

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to-read-is-to-dream · 1 year ago

Text

forget him

🌙 staring. Haechan x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. “What if… what if I helped you out a little?” His words hang in the air, and your room feels thick with tension. You’re acutely aware of the toy still pressed between your thighs. “Look,” Hyuck says, voice softer, “I hate seeing you cry- but seeing you cry about something good might make us both feel better.”

tw/cw. recent breakup, fingering, Hyuck walks in while y/n is masturbating, masturbation, assisted masturbation, toy/dildo use, overstimulation, dacryphilia, reader has multiple orgasms, squirting, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, big dick Hyuck, pussy stretching, dirty talk, praise, talking about y/n's ex while they fuck, marking/claim kink, full/breeding kink, etc… I pet names: (hers) gorgeous, babe, good girl.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 7.1k

🍭 aus. friends to lovers, roommates au, recent breakup, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. When I tell you I need to be demolished by this Hyuck-

Hyuck absolutely hates seeing you like this.

He’d thought it had been hard seeing you in love with his best friend Mark Lee, but seeing you in the throws of depression after your recent breakup takes the cake for Hyuck when it comes to him having a straight up horrible time.

Obviously, you have it worse, and he’s not trying to contest that fact- he just hadn’t realized that when the thing he’d been hoping for actually came to pass- it would feel this bad.

In the dark reaches of his mind, he wonders if he’d had something to do with the separation, although, in truth, he knows that’s ridiculous. He’d been as supportive as a friend and roommate could be about you and Mark. He’d forced smiles and words of encouragement when you’d gushed through the talking phase. He’d found ways to ditch the apartment when you and Mark started to get physical, doing his best to give you privacy while getting high as a kite at Lee Jeno’s place to distract himself from the fact that you were getting railed by someone other than him. And now, he supposes, he’s doing his due diligence in making you feel better when you’re at your worst.

Hyuck’s doing the best he can to make things easy for you. He’s set up movie days, and he’s made you ramen. He’s allowed you to shuffle closer to him on the couch, even resting your head on his shoulder any time you start to tear up. He’s paused films to listen to you explain things like “When Mark and I watched this, he would always get so excited when Totoro would show up” or “Mark hated No Face.”

He wonders if doing a Ghibli marathon is the best idea, given how much you associate it with Mark, but when he’d asked you about it and you insisted you would feel better watching the films, he’d left it at that.

You’re your own person, and Hyuck’s always trusted you to make the best decisions for yourself… even when he doesn’t agree with them.

Cuddled next to you on your living room couch, Hyuck does his best just to be there for you. He ignores the boys’ group chat messages, where other friends are taking care of Mark. As far as Hyuck’s concerned, he’s team you, all the way, and he always has been.

He notices the way you start to shift next to him, pulling away from his shoulder to stretch your arms over your head.

“You good?” Hyuck asks, looking away from the movie to give you his complete and undivided attention.

“Yeah,” you sigh, frowning slightly. “Just tired.”

“Do you want to go to bed?” He studies your face, noticing all the signs of exhaustion- although, to be fair, you’ve been a sleepy wreck of a thing since your breakup two weeks ago.

“I probably should,” you concede, taking another deep breath. “Thanks for making me dinner and watching movies with me.”

“Don’t mention it,” Hyuck says, flashing you a small smile as he straightens in his seat, reaching for the remote to stop the movie.

“You’ve been so nice since… since the whole Mark thing.” He can see you swallowing back tears, and you reach up to wipe your eye with the sleeve of your hoodie.

“That’s what friends are for,” Hyuck assures you, although, his attention toward you has always far surpassed that of a friend. It’s a shame you’ve never realized that fact.

“Just… thanks,” you say again, holding open your arms for a hug that Hyuck is more than happy to give you.

He adjusts on the couch, leaning forward to scoop you into his arms. Your cheek presses to his shoulder and he breathes in the smell of your fruity body wash. He tries his best not to hug you too hard- because if he did, you might actually realize that every time you hug him, he has no true intention of ever letting you go.

“Sleep well, okay, gorgeous?” he prompts, stroking your hair and using the petname he’d given you far before you’d ever met Mark. “You really need your rest.”

“I’ll do my best,” you assure him, giving one last gentle squeeze before you pull away.

Hyuck watches you stand up, your hoodie skimming your mid thigh. He knows you’re wearing sleeping shorts under the oversized fabric, but he can’t help but swallow thickly, imagining what it would be like if you were just in panties.

He really has to get his mind out of the gutter, and Hyuck knows that- he’s been trying to, in all honesty he has- but it’s been four years of knowing you, one of living together, and he still can’t manage to keep his thoughts PG.

With one last small smile, you turn and begin to shuffle to your room.

He misses your lively movements. The first night you’d moved in together, you’d had a small dance party together, and Hyuck’s always been adamant that no one’s hips move like yours do.

He misses your joy. The way you sparkle when you’re happy. You used to smile like a kid in a candy shop anytime you watched your favourite movies or ate the ramen he’d made for you, but these days, the most you can muster is a small upquirk of the sides of your lips.

Hyuck wants to make you smile again. He’s just not sure how to do it.

He knows you need time. Time heals all wounds, or so they say. He just wishes he could fast track your recovery.

Your bedroom door shuts and the spell of watching you is broken. Hyuck takes a deep breath, looking around the messy living room. There are blankets and pillows strewn all over, take out boxes from your day inside, tissues from when you’d cried.

He’s not generally known to be the cleanest man around town, but Hyuck feels that in times like these, the least he can do is keep things tidy. He’s sure you’ll feel better to come out of your room every morning to a nice apartment, so he begins his work of collecting water cups and take away boxes.

You’ve definitely lost your spark, and Hyuck thinks maybe he has too. He’s used to playing music loudly, using it as energy at all hours of the day, but tonight, while he cleans, he keeps things quiet. His head is full, and his ears are on edge, paying attention to the sounds coming from your room.

In those first days after the breakup, he’d heard you crying a lot, and he’s sure that barging into your room to give you a hug had cheered you up. He’s hoping it won’t be necessary today.

As much as he loves hugging you, seeing you cry always makes him feel like someone is trying to tear open his chest and clench his heart. It’s an ache he doesn’t enjoy.

When you’d moved in together, he’d decided that as a girl - with monthly girl issues - you should have the bigger room with the connected bathroom, and he listens to the sound of you brushing your teeth and getting ready for bed.

You begin to hum something, and Hyuck realizes it’s the first time he’s heard you sing since your breakup.

Maybe tonight will be a good night.

Hyuck has moved all the clutter to the kitchen, and he begins to put stuff in the garbage and dishwasher while he listens to you hum. He thinks about the day you met, at uni orientation. He’d never become friends with someone so fast in his life, and when you’d discovered you had three of five classes together- well, he’s never looked back, not for one second.

He wonders how things would be different if he’d ever manned up and told you how he felt- how he feels- how his affection for you has only been growing and growing-

Hyuck finds himself heading to the fridge and taking out a beer. He hasn’t been drinking much since you and Mark broke up, hasn’t needed the mind-numbing effects of alcohol, so when he takes a large swig, he finds that it immediately takes the edge off.

He can’t be thinking about wifing you up right now- no matter how much he might wish to.

Although… as he leans against the sink and downs the can, grabbing another, he begins to wonder if offering himself up to you as a distraction really would be the worst thing in the world.

Sure, it wouldn’t be the way he’d want to start things with you- but maybe he could make you fall in love with him and forget all about Mark Lee. However, in all honesty, he’d probably be risking your friendship.

He’s played this mind game with himself too many times before, and Hyuck always finds himself at a stalemate. Frustration bubbles up inside and he looks out at the living room, determined to set himself back on the task of cleaning.

Hyuck throws the pillows onto the couch, and he even begins to fold up a blanket, and that’s when he hears a familiar sound.

You’ve never been the type to seek much affection, especially when you’re in your room, so whenever he’s caught you crying, it’s always started with a whimper.

What Hyuck’s just heard was definitely a whimper, and his whole body surges with white-hot, electric energy, his eyes darting to your door. His breath catches, and he tosses the blanket down to the ground, frozen as he waits for another sound of distress.

A small gasp can be heard under the crack of your door, and Hyuck’s body bolts into action. He’s moving so fast he stumbles a little over his own feet just as he reaches your room, and he wonders if drinking two beers was a good idea. His hand lands on your door, and he knocks aggressively.

“You okay in there, gorgeous?” he calls.

“I’m fine!” you respond, but there’s definitely an edge to your voice.

He can tell something is wrong- can tell you’re lying to him, and in a split second, Hyuck is making a decision.

“I’m coming in.”

You let out a small squeak of surprise, tearing your hand away from the toy still lodged inside of you so you can pull the blankets up around your shoulders, jaw dropping as your roommate barges into your room.

“Hyuck!”

He stands in the doorway, studying you, and you can see a look of confusion cross his face. “I thought I heard you crying.”

“I’m not crying!” you insist, core clenching around the dildo. “Get out!”

Hyuck doesn’t move. “I definitely heard a whimper,” he insists.

Your heart is practically racing in your chest, and you’re very much aware of the pleasurable feeling still thrumming from your core. Cock warming was something you enjoyed doing with Mark, and the fact that you’re cock warming a toy while Hyuck stares at you is having a wholly unexpected effect on your entire body.

“People whimper for all sorts of reasons!” you say dumbly. “Leave!”

Hyuck tilts his head to the side, assessing you again. “You never speak to me like this.”

“You usually don’t just barge in here unannounced!”

“Yes, I do,” Hyuck points out. “Why’s tonight different?”

“What do you mean-”

“Something is different,” he says, more firmly this time. His gaze dips, taking in the blanket still wrapped tightly around your form. “Wait…” you see the exact moment he realizes what you’re up to, and even from a few feet away, you see the way his pupils dilate. “Are you…”

“Hyuck-” you groan, lifting the blankets to hide your face, hoping he can’t see the shame that’s beginning to consume you.

“You are, aren’t you?”

“Are what?” you ask, deciding to play dumb.

You can hear him scoff, and you peak from under the blanket just in time to see his signature eye roll. His tongue pokes the inside of his cheek, something he does when he’s getting annoyed, and you can feel yourself dripping down your dildo.

He meets your gaze again. “I didn’t hear a vibrator, so let me guess…” You watch him swallow thickly. “The toy’s still inside of you, isn’t it?”

Curse him for knowing you so well.

Curse him for having a dirty mind.

And maybe most of all, curse yourself for being so stupidly turned on that you can’t even deny what he’s just said. All you can do is groan loudly, hiding again.

“Do you want me to leave?” he asks after a beat of silence.

“Yes!”

You hear him click his tongue. “Come on, gorgeous. We both know I can tell when you lie to me. We’ve been friends for years, you don’t have to be… ashamed about this.”

But shame is exactly what you’re feeling, and his words don’t help at all.

“Please, just leave,” you sigh, so embarrassed you think you might actually die.

“What if… what if I helped you out a little?”

His words hang in the air, and your room feels thick with tension. You’re acutely aware of the toy still pressed between your thighs.

“Look,” Hyuck says, voice softer, “I hate seeing you cry- but seeing you cry about something good might make us both feel better.”

“You’re being crazy.” You peak out at him. “We’re roommates- Mark is one of your best friends-”

“I’ve known you longer and I’m loyal to you,” Hyuck insists firmly. “And besides, stranger things have happened.”

“Yeah? Like what?” you can’t help but laugh a little, and the contraction of your stomach muscles pushes the toy slightly out of your core, making you groan at the loss.

From the look that crosses Hyuck’s face, he obviously notices your sound, and you watch his tongue dart out to wet his lips. “For one, the fact that you even dated Mark was a little crazy.”

“He’s a nice guy.”

“But nice doesn’t fill you up at night. Nice doesn’t make you cum so hard you feel it through your whole body.” Hyuck holds up a hand. “And before you try to tell me Mark was good in bed, remember that I have a room next to yours. Mark is a nice guy, but that doesn’t mean he can fuck. Not the way you deserve.”

You shift in your bed, sitting up a little to address your roommate. “Yeah? And how do I deserve to be fucked?”

“You deserve someone who’s going to worship every inch of you. Someone who’s going to make you cum over and over- make you gush so good you’re begging for it, begging to finally get dicked down so hard you can’t even walk after. Someone who makes you cry for all the right reasons.”

You stare at Hyuck.

You’re not even sure what to say.

He’s never talked like this to you, ever- at least, not in your waking hours.

You’ve had dreams about his sharp tongue, his long fingers, and his big cock- but never gave credence to your lustful fantasies. Hyuck’s always just been a friend-

“Why now?” you find yourself asking. “After all this time-”

“I’m tired of watching you hurt over something I might be able to help you fix.”

“So cock is the fix to a broken heart?”

“Gorgeous, I think we both know that what I’m offering you is more than cock.”

“Right, I’m guessing tongue and fingers-”

Hyuck gives you an unimpressed look. “Are you really going to make me say it?”

“Say what?”

“That I’m super into you? That I’ve been into you since we met? That it killed me to watch you be with Mark when I knew you should have been with me?”

“Hyuck-” you breathe, feeling even more whiplash from these words than his dirty talk.

“Look, you don’t have to say anything about that stupid feels shit, just… just let me take care of you tonight.”

“What if we regret it?” You press your thighs together, keeping the toy just inside of you while you begin to fidget with your blanket. “What if it ruins our friendship?”

“I’ve asked myself that same question for years,” Hyuck admits. “But… after looking at you now- I really don’t think that’s something we have to worry about.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because I’m about to make you cum so hard you forget about every other man in your life.”

“Promise?”

He nods. “Promise.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Hyuck lets out a small laugh. “So… you going to lift those covers and let me see what I’m dealing with or…?”

“God,” you groan, hiding your face in your hands. “This is so embarrassing.”

“I call you gorgeous for a reason, don’t I?” Hyuck grins. “Come on, I wanna see.”

You grab at the blankets, taking a deep breath. Then you start to move them off your body.

Your roommate watches your every movement, dipping his head to focus as you lift the fabric covering your feet, then your calves-

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” you tell him.

“Yeah, me neither,” Hyuck admits. “I’ve been waiting so long to see you like this.”

His words make your stomach erupt in butterflies, and you feel the toy still half wedged in your core. “Should I… should I remove the dildo first?”

“No.” He shakes his head. “I wanna see that too.” His eyes meet yours. “Don’t be embarrassed. You’re so fucking hot, I’m already hard.”

He reaches a hand down to cup the front of his sweatpants, and you realize he’s not lying. You can see the impressive print of his cock pressing against the fabric, and it makes your mouth water. It also gives you the confidence to fully reveal yourself to his hungry eyes, and the moment he sees you, Hyuck lets out a deep groan.

“Shit, gorgeous,” Hyuck says, letting out a deep breath. “You’re even more perfect than I’ve imagined.”

His words make you feel shy, and you close your legs, only for Hyuck to press a knee to the bed, both hands reaching out to prompt your thighs back open.

“Don’t hide from me,” he warns, and there’s an edge to his tone. He’s still being soft with you, his touch gentle, but there’s an obvious hunger rising inside of him. “Tell me about this toy.”

“Well, I uh…” you search for your words. “It’s one of the first ones I ever bought-”

“It’s small,” Hyuck notes, which is kind of funny considering it’s Mark sized. “Can I use it on you?”

“You want to fuck me with the toy?” You blink at your long term friend and roommate.

“Gotta stretch you out to take something bigger.” Hyuck smirks devilishly, and your pussy throbs- he’s definitely bigger than Mark and the toy still half lodged inside of you. You can’t wait to find out how much bigger.

“You can-” you bite at your lip, “you can fuck me with it.”

“Good girl,” Hyuck praises you, and you can feel yourself practically dripping around the dildo now.

You hold your breath in anticipation while Hyuck gets settled on the foot of the bed. His warm palms smooth over your thighs, forcing you wider, and then his fingers grab the base of the toy. “Do you like it slow?”

“I think… to start off with?” You feel too hazy to be able to answer questions, and he hasn’t even started with you. “But… when you fuck me, can you go fast, please?”

“Of course, gorgeous. I can do anything you want,” he assures you, applying pressure to the toy so it begins to lodge deeper inside of you. You let out a small sigh and Hyuck looks up at you, grinning. “You’re so wet, babe, making this too fucking easy.”

“It’s not my fault-” you defend yourself, voice shaky.

“It’s mine, isn’t it?” His smile widens. “Talking dirty gets you going, huh, gorgeous?”

You nod, resting your head back against the pillows and closing your eyes to enjoy the feeling of him beginning to work the toy in and out of your pussy.

“Bet Mark’s dirty talk game was weak,” Hyuck says under his breath.

You don’t have it in you to agree with him, although… he’s correct. Something tells you he knows it too, because he lets out a small chuckle.

Hyuck’s using his right hand to fuck you with the toy, and his left moves from your thigh. A moment later, his thumb is rubbing gentle circles on your clit and your toes curl from the stimulation. A gentle gasp escapes you and you can practically hear Hyuck smile.

“Feels good?” he prompts.

“So good,” you nod. You need something to hold onto, so you grab at the one piece of clothing on your body, a night shirt, which you lift up your to your abdomen, giving Hyuck more room to work.

He rubs your clit harder and you let out a whine, feeling the familiar build of tension in the pit of your stomach.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” Hyuck tells you, and you can feel his breath on your pussy which makes you twitch. “God, I could watch you squirm like this all night.”

“Please-”

“Please what?”

You don’t even know. All you know is listening to the squelching sound of the toy going in and out of you while his thumb rubs your clit is driving you insane.

“I want to kiss you,” you decide, realizing Hyuck’s about to make you cum and you haven’t even really gotten a taste of him.

Hyuck stops what he’s doing immediately, manuevering up the bed so he’s on top of you, one hand pressed to the pillow while he looks down at you.

“Hi, gorgeous,” he grins.

Your hands explore his shoulders and one snakes into his hair, then you’re tugging his mouth down to your own. Hyuck’s gentle with you at first, but when you go to bite on his lower lip, he groans loudly. His tongue darts out to brush against your own, and the kiss deepens.

You’re done with your toy. You want to feel him, and you reach between your bodies to remove the dildo, pulling it out and tossing it onto the floor next to the bed.

Hyuck breaks your kiss to look at the wet toy on the ground, and he lets out a small laugh, gaze returning to your own. “Why’d you do that?”

“I want you.”

“Yeah?” His hand slips between your forms, and two digits stroke the length of your pussy, making you moan. “Want me to make you cum all over my fingers?”

You nod, grabbing at the front of his shirt, tugging his mouth back to yours while he buries himself into you knuckle deep.

He strokes your walls, and the feeling is absolutely delightful, especially when he angles his hand, palm pressing to your clit while he seeks out your gspot.

His lips are hot against your own, and they don’t muffle the sound of pleasure escaping you.

Hyuck’s a bit of a gamer, but you never really realized his fingers could feel this good-

“Shit, gorgeous,” he groans, breaking the kiss to move his mouth to your throat, where he lets out deep breaths. “You’re dripping all over my hand.”

“I’m so close-” you confess, gripping his shoulders tighter while he finger fucks you even harder, chasing your release.

“You’ll be a good girl and cum for me, right?” Hyuck prompts, which makes you mewl. “Yeah, you’ve always been such a good girl, gonna be good and cum all over my fingers-”

His words make you throb, and he applies more pressure to your clit with his palm. His lips press kisses to your neck and he finds your sweetspot, making everything feel all the more intense.

You’re on the edge, and you let out a loud gasp, clenching your eyes shut in anticipation.

“Cum for me, gorgeous. Come on, I wanna feel you.”

His words make the cord in your stomach snap, and your body is flooded with the pleasure of your release. You feel it everywhere, and it makes you cry out while holding onto him tighter. His hand continues between your thighs, fingers unrelenting, palm heavy on your clit.

Hyuck works you through your orgasm until you’re gasping and pushing at his shoulders, and then he straightens a little, motions stopping while he looks down at you. “Did you enjoy that?”

You can’t help but laugh, rolling your eyes a little. “You know I did.”

“Yeah, but you could still stroke my ego a little.”

“Stroke your ego?” You reach for his cock, gripping him through his sweats. “Like this?”

Hyuck lets out a low groan, thrusting forward to meet your hand. “As much as I’d love to watch you jack me off- tonight I’m here to make you feel better, and I’m not anywhere near being done with you yet.”

You’d never realized Hyuck had any self control, and you watch in shock as he gently moves your hand away.

“I’m going to eat you out now,” he tells you, slipping down the bed so he’s on his stomach between your legs. Hyuck spreads you open, gently kissing your inner thigh before looking up at you. “You good with this?”

“Uh huh,” you breathe, swallowing thickly as you prepare yourself for his tongue. “I’m still sensitive though.”

“I’ll go easy on you,” Hyuck promises, pressing a very soft kiss to your clit. “I can be gentle, contrary to popular belief.”

You can’t help but let out a giggle, but the sound is cut short when Hyuck unexpectedly buries his face between your thighs. His tongue presses into your hole and the feeling has your legs quaking as he adjusts them over his shoulders, trying to dive even deeper.

“Shit, Hyuck-” you whimper, grabbing at his hair.

He’s always been a bit of a liar- maybe you shouldn’t have believed him when he said he’d go easy on you. But… at the same time, the way his nose repeatedly bumps your clit has a fire building in your abdomen again, and you really aren’t even that mad about it.

You can feel Hyuck smile against you, and it’s such a turn on to know he’s enjoying himself while providing you with pleasure. Mark had always been somewhat rigid in your sexual interactions, much more serious than the grinning cheshire cat between your legs now.

Where Mark had been slow and tentative, Hyuck’s eager and passionate. He switches between lapping at your hole, sucking your clit, and pushing his tongue into you as deep as it can go, licking at your walls and working you up way faster than anyone else ever has in your entire life.

Then he begins to groan, and you realize he’s grinding against the bed-

Is eating you out really that sexy for him?

You feel another gush of wetness from the thought and your pussy throbs, warning you both that you’re close again. Hyuck responds by adjusting ever so slightly, lips wrapping around your clit while he pushes a hand to your entrance, slipping two fingers inside.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum-” you gasp, back arching off the bed while the cord in your stomach is pulled unbelievably tight.

Hyuck’s fingers twist in and out of your hole, and he licks at your clit in the most sloppy manner- it’s enough to have you exploding, a cry of pleasure escaping you while your core clamps down on your roommate.

He groans loudly, sinfully, and the vibration against your clit has your legs shaking around his head, orgasm pulsing deep through your entire being.

You’re practically crying at this point, and you can feel tears even while you clench your eyes shut, taking everything Hyuck’s giving you while moaning like a whore- you’ve never sounded this way, and there’s something almost addicting about the noises being torn out of you.

You know he feels it too, because Hyuck is completely unrelenting. If anything, he’s even more sloppy with the way he worships your pussy, fingers crooking up expertly-

You’re literally gushing around him, and you can feel it, can feel that your bed is going to be ruined after this. But you can’t bring yourself to care. All you can do is grab at your sheets, crying to the ceiling while your best friend makes you feel pleasure so intense that you can’t even think.

He’s fulfilled his promise about making you cry for good reasons… and he hasn’t even taken his cock out yet.

You’ve never been this needy in your entire life, and when he pulls away from your core, allowing you to catch your breath, you peak out at him from under wet lashes.

“You’re literally perfect,” he tells you, voice deep. His pupils are completely blown now and he’s breathing as heavily as you are.

You watch him bring glistening fingers up to his lips, slowly sucking them clean and moaning loudly at the taste of you before he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Fuck, and you’re already crying-” Hyuck sits up, leaning over you and reaching out to brush some of your tears away. “God, you’re fucking beautiful.”

“Hyuck-” you whimper, shocked that you’re choking up.

Your body is still being flooded with emotion and sensations. Your nipples are hard under your shirt and the fabric is becoming uncomfortable, making you more sensitive-

“Going to let me take care of you now, right, gorgeous?” he asks, pinching at your chin and leaning in to kiss you softly.

“Please-” You grab at your shirt and Hyuck follows through by helping you take it off.

You’re now fully revealed to him, and your best friend sits back to appreciate you, letting out a deep breath.

“Mark’s so fucking stupid for letting you go,” Hyuck says.

His words are bitter sweet, and in your overstimulated state, you find your lower lip wobbling as you hold back a choked sob.

“Shh,” Hyuck whispers, reaching out to cup your cheek. “It’s better to be with someone who knows your worth, like I do. I’d never fucking treat you the way he did- I promise.”

The look on his face is so intense, and you know he’s telling you the truth.

Your body relaxes a little- Hyuck really is such a good guy, and what he’s doing for you helps more than he’ll probably ever know. He’s making you feel sexy again, making you feel needed and wanted and maybe even loved.

“Besides,” Hyuck clears his throat, taking off his own shirt, “I’m going to fuck you so good you’ll forget all about that asshole.”

You can’t help but laugh sadly, wiping at your own face to get rid of the last tears while you watch Hyuck move to work on his sweats.

When he pushes the waistband down, revealing his cock, you think you might actually faint.

You’ve always thought Hyuck was a pretty guy, sexy of course, but pretty too- and his cock? It’s as stupidly pretty as the rest of him.

He must be a little over seven inches, and he’s girthy too-

You can feel yourself practically drooling as you look at him, and Hyuck smirks at your reaction. “Sure you’re ready for this, gorgeous?”

“If you don’t fuck me I think I might die.”

He laughs at your words. “Then I guess I better fuck you.”

“Should we…” you bite at your lip. “Do we need condoms?”

“Babe,” Hyuck scoffs. “Babe- we’re both clean, right? And I know you’re on birth control… do you want me to wear a condom? I always kind of imagined you’d be the kind of girl who wants to be full.”

How many times has he imagined this, you wonder.

But he’s right. You want him to fill you up like no one else has.

“Come here,” you say, holding open your arms while he kicks his sweats off.

Hyuck’s hands find the pillows by your head and he slots himself between your legs, lips pressing against your own.

You thread your fingers through his soft brown hair, kissing him eagerly. You want to get lost in him, and it’s easy to do that when he begins to rut his cock against your pussy, bumping your clit and making your thighs shake around his hips.

“Just fuck me,” you groan, already feeling so unbelievably needy.

Hyuck smirks against your lips, pulling away to look down at you with mischief in his eyes. “You’re so fucking hot it’s insane.”

“Then why aren’t you inside me yet?”

He moans a little, dipping his head to look between your bodies while he reaches for the base of his cock, lining himself up with your hole. “If it hurts, I’ll stop.”

You’re about to scoff and tell him he’s not that big when he pushes his head into your entrance and a gasp leaves your lips. The stretch is very real, and you wrap your arms tighter around his shoulders, closing your eyes and focusing on getting your body to relax.

You can practically feel your pussy struggling to make room for him, and even though you’re as wet as a fucking slip and slide, it’s still a little difficult for him to push in inch after inch-

“Fuck,” you whimper, and Hyuck rewards you by burying his face in your throat, peppering your skin in kisses. The soft feeling of his lips is enough to distract you from the intrusion opening up your pussy, and soon his hips are flush against your own, making you both release groans of pleasure.

“You ready for this?” Hyuck asks.

“God, yes-”

He reaches for your hand, pressing it to the pillow and threading your fingers. Then he kisses you softly-

When he begins to rut into you, it’s anything but soft.

Hyuck’s motions are calculated and rough, the tip of his cock hitting a spot deep inside of you that has you squeezing his hand. You’d be cussing if it weren’t for his hot lips against your own, lips that have gotten increasingly demanding, his tongue stroking yours while you gasp.

It feels amazing- like, truly. You’ve never been fucked like this, and he’s only just started.

He stops kissing you, breathing heavily while he fucks you even harder. “Can I ask you a personal question?”

“You’re literally balls deep inside of me,” you nearly laugh. “You can ask me anything.”

“I’m just,” Hyuck groans, squeezing your hand. “Did you ever think about me when you were fucking Mark?”

Your pussy clenches at the question, from shock or hornyness, you’re not sure.

“I-”

“You did, didn’t you?” Hyuck grins. “Don’t think I didn’t just feel you get super fucking tight around me- God, you are dirty like me, aren’t you, gorgeous? I thought… thought that when you started dating soft boy Mark, maybe you were more vanilla, but that’s not you, is it?”

“No-”

“You like to get fucked, properly, don’t you, babe?” Hyuck continues.

“Fuck, yes-”

“And Mark didn’t know how to do that for you, did he? Mark didn’t know how to make you wet like this, didn’t know how to make you cry or scream or beg-”

You can’t bring yourself to verbally slander Mark while Hyuck’s fucking you like a wild man, so instead you just shake your head. Your confirmation makes Hyuck grin, and he fucks you even harder, the whole bed rocking while the sound of skin on skin fills the room.

“You know what? Enough about Mark. Forget him. You don’t need him anymore.” Hyuck’s mouth is hot on your neck and his words make you shiver as he moves to suck your earlobe. “You only need me. You only need me, I promise.”

Hyuck lets go of your hand and you’re about to argue with him about it when he shoves his fingers between your bodies, rubbing at your clit while he fucks you.

“Hyuck!” you whimper, writhing beneath him.

“That’s it gorgeous. I wanna ruin you for anyone else. After this, no one’s going to make you cum like I can.” He’s groaning now, voice all breathy and super sexy- “If I make you cum three times the first time I fuck you, that means you’re mine right?”

You moan loudly at the idea, grabbing his shoulders while he works you closer and closer to yet another orgasm that you have no doubt will be as mind blowing as the first two.

“Tell me you’re mine,” Hyuck says, voice gruffer now. “Fuck, gorgeous, I want you so badly- just say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” you gasp when he applies more pressure to your clit.

“That’s my girl,” Hyuck smiles against your neck. “You’ll let me mark you right? Let me suck some pretty bruises into your skin so every time you look in the mirror you know your roommate fucks you right-”

His tongue darts out, licking a stripe of your throat before his lips press to your sweet spot. He suctions his mouth onto you, teeth grazing your skin and causing you to cry out while you move your hands to tug on his hair.

Hyuck lets out a sinful groan when you pull gently on his soft brown strands, but he doesn’t let up. He’s entirely focused on you and your pleasure, cock continuing to rearrange your insides while his fingers abuse your nearly overstimulated clit-

“I’m so close-” you whimper, eyes closed as your body once again approaches the edge with startling speed.

“Yeah?” Hyuck moves away from your neck and you get the sense that he’s looking down at you. “Gonna cum on this cock and let me fill you up? Gonna let me breed you like the good girl you are? Make you so stupidly full that you’re fucking dripping?”

“Yes, fuck, Hyuck, please-” You’re on the verge of tears again, whole body thrumming with energy-

“Then cum for me. Let me fucking feel you.”

You twitch from his words, and then you’re falling over the edge, gasping and clawing at him while you’re overcome with ecstasy. You’re not sure if it’s because this is your third orgasm, or if it’s because his cock is balls deep inside of you, but this orgasm is the most intense of them all.

You’re reduced to a completely primal side of yourself, brain short circuiting while your body takes over. There are no thoughts, only the attempt to process all the pleasure that’s flowing through you like a river that’s broken through a dam.

The sounds escaping you are unlike anything that has ever come from your vocal cords, and Hyuck is also cumming, groaning loudly as he presses his lips to yours. His tongue is hot as it licks at your bottom lip, and his thrusts are erratic.

He takes his hand away from your clit in favour of finding yours again, fingers locking while he squeezes you. You can feel the passion radiating off of him, can feel that this won’t be a one time thing and you both know it.

Hyuck takes care of you through your orgasms until you’re both finished, and his motions begin to slow until he’s simply half laying on top of you, his kisses much more gentle as you gasp into each others mouths.

His hips are flush against your own, keeping his cum inside of you while you make out. His body is warm and it almost feels like a security blanket draped across your own. Hyuck’s fingers are still tangled with yours, and it feels nice just to be holding someone’s hand again.

“Fuck, gorgeous,” Hyuck groans, pulling away from your lips, “if we keep kissing I might have to fuck you again, and I don’t think you could take another orgasm.”

“Not tonight,” you agree, blinking up at your roommate.

It’s like you’re seeing him in a new light, and you assess the soft details of his features. He really is a beautiful man.

“And we ruined your bed,” Hyuck says with a grin. “You were squirting earlier and your sheets are too wet to sleep in, so I guess that means you’re coming to my room tonight.”

“You want me to sleep with you?” you nearly laugh.

“I’d honestly be offended if you didn’t.” He lets go of your hand, pushing himself off of you. “I didn’t get to touch your tits at all, and I’d like to have something to grab onto when we sleep.”

“God, you’re such a menace,” you giggle, pushing at his chest.

“You love it,” Hyuck insists, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your lips. “Come on, we should shower.”

“So we’re showering together now too? Weren’t you the guy who said Mark was being clingy by wanting to see me every day when we started dating?”

“It’s clingy when Mark does it,” Hyuck notes. “When I do it, it’s endearing and charming and sexy-”

“Sure it is,” you say sarcastically, shaking your head at him.

“What happened to my good girl?” Hyuck teases. “If you keep talking back, I might be tempted to ruin you in the shower.”

Now that you’re thinking about it, that doesn’t actually sound like the worst thing in the world.

“Fine, let’s go,” you concede, letting out a sigh.

There’s so much you could say about what has just taken place, but one thing you can state with confidence is that you do feel better. Hyuck had made you forget about Mark, if only for a short while before he started shit talking his friend- but, his words of slander hadn’t actually made you mad or sad or upset- they’d actually kind of had the opposite effect.

Life will go on after Mark Lee, and Hyuck��s made you realize that.

In fact, maybe your life after Mark will go on with Hyuck.

Maybe it was always meant to be this way.

You’re too tired to think about these big ideas in detail tonight, not after everything that’s just happened. Instead, you allow yourself to live in the moment, allow your roommate to take care of you the way he always has.

For now, this is more than enough.

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🔮 preview. “So perfect,” Hyuck tells you, reaching his hands up to cup your breasts. Before he can dive in, however, you press the ice pack to his face again and he winces below you. A scowl forms, and he glares into your eyes. “Maybe I don’t like it when you take care of me.”

cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, thigh riding, multiple reader orgasms, dirty talk, praise, claim kink, boob worship, big dick Hyuck, sex in on the living room couch, physical altercation between new boy and ex, overstim, holding off an orgasm, cumming together, light spanking, etc… I pet names: (hers) gorgeous, babe .

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 3.9k I teaser wc. 220

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bonus

“Dude,” Jeno sighs, staring at the man sitting on his couch. “You did not-”

“Except that I did,” Hyuck smirks. “You should be happy for me.”

“Is that what you’re going to say to Mark after you tell him you fucked his ex?” Renjun asks, narrowing his eyes at their naughtiest friend.

“Actually,” Hyuck sighs, leaning back against the couch, “I think we shouldn’t tell Mark, not yet at least.”

“So now you’re making us all culpable in your bullshit,” Renjun groans loudly, rolling his eyes.

Hyuck gaze shifts from the angry aries to Jaemin, who’s yet to say anything since Hyuck’s big reveal. “You’re cool with this, aren’t you?”

“I mean…” Jaemin cocks his head to the side, “you have wanted to be with her for years-”

“See, Jaemin gets it!” Hyuck grins, eyes turning to his part time gym buddy next. “And Jeno? You understand where I’m coming from, don’t you?”

“Mark is not going to be happy about this,” Jeno frowns.

“And I wasn’t happy when he started dating my roommate crush,” Hyuck states, “or when he broke up with her unexpectedly.”

“Don’t lie,” Renjun scoffs, “we all know you probably celebrated when they ended things.”

“Only a little,” Hyuck confesses, grinning again. “Okay but for real,” his expression turns serious, “guys, I think I love her.”

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to-read-is-to-dream · 1 year ago

Text

splish splash.

pairing. san x seonghwa x wooyoung x yunho x fem!reader synopsis. they’re out to prove who’s the best at the breast-stroke- gets dragged off stage as the people boo over such a terrible pun. warnings. no use of y/n, swim team au, lifeguard!reader, pro-swimmers!sanhwawooho, they’re all wearing speedos :), smut ( porn with unnecesary plot, degradation, m+f oral sex, piv sex, anal sex, double penetration, triple penetration bc u got 3 holes for a reason sweetcheeks, mxm interactions, dom/sub dynamics, spanking, hair pulling, way more warnings that there’s honestly no point listing, just know this is pure filth that covers most bases of stereotypical fanfiction smut, mother in christ what have i written? ) no verbal consent is given throughout this but all parties are willing participants !! word count. 20k+ ( of literal porn. i need to leave this physical terrain bc i am not worthy of existing after writing this i fear. ) hyde’s input. hey girlie pops, long time no see.

it’s crazy, what some people will do for money.

take, for example, your roommate. she’s a smart girl. a beautiful one, too. with a promising future in criminal law, once she gets herself that pesky little degree. and, yet, she’s funding her tuition with money she earns distributing high-end drugs on campus. rather counter-productive, most would agree. or, in a far less extreme version, there’s that overly-hyper frat boy, who can always be found doing the dumbest dares at a party, all for a few bucks and a keg of beer.

and then there is you.

you would have arrived home twenty minutes ago at this point, had things gone to plan, a backlog of neglected assignments and a baby bonsai tree in need of watering desperately awaiting your return. yet here you are, stuck in your ugly flip-flops and uncomfortably stale shorts, whistle around your neck and a look of exhaustion on your face.

the swimming pool had closed, technically, an hour and a half ago. the sports centre seems to believe, however, that certain members of the college swim team reserve the right to use the pool for however long they require and desire, even if it is at your expense. if you were being paid overtime, perhaps you’d have a more positive outlook on things and less of a frown creasing on your forehead.

if the swimmers weren’t so irritating, maybe you’d enjoy the view.

“all that height, and for what?” the sophomore boy’s voice- jung wooyoung? you aren’t overly familiar with him, seeing him only in sporadic flashes when you pass each other on campus or at some uncivilised frat party- echos through the large room, his hair a wet mess. if you were gaining anything from being here, you’d perhaps muster up the energy to remind the boy of how a swim cap is necessary at all times in the water. “can’t even out-swim me with those long legs!”

“wanna know what my long legs are for?” jeong yunho, a junior with the face of an angel and the body proportions of a sinner, pipes up from across the olympic length pool. unlike the other boy, a crimson cap keeps his own locks out of sight. “climbing up the stairs to go fuck your mom!”

it’s impossible to stifle your laughter, no matter how hard you try to just play it off as a tickle at the back of your throat, a cough forcing its way out. when your eyes meet those of the glaring senior, however, you’re wishing you hadn’t made a sound.

“even the lifeguard can’t take you seriously, yunho,” park seonghwa speaks, eyes not leaving yours as his muscled arms work to pull himself out of the water, before letting his well-rounded behind sit down on the edge. a breath hitches in your throat as his gloriously muscled thighs come into view, drops of water cascading down them in a pattern set to hypnotise you, keep you staring a little longer than is good for your health. “bet she’s heard all about you and the boner incident of 2019.”

truthfully, you have no clue what the dark haired male is on about. that doesn’t stop you from laughing again though, this time a little out of malice and a lot because it’s quite endearing to see a loudmouth like jeong yunho be silenced so easily, head bowed and ears a little rosier with embarrassment.

this small moment of peace is soon shattered by the reality that these boys can’t spend more than ten minutes in a room- particularly one that includes a pool- without arguing. while one boasts about his speed, the other begins to jab at his lack of endurance, and the remaining of the three reminds them all of the fact he holds the most medals amongst them.

“are they always like this?” you jump, surprised by the cold drop of water that lands on your exposed thigh, all courtesy of the boy who’s invited himself to sit down next to you on the bench.

“not always,” you bite at the inside of your cheek, willing yourself to not look at san in all his wet glory. you’re afraid that, once you start looking at him, you won’t be able to stop. it wouldn’t be the first time you’ve fallen victim to the crime that is his enchanting smile. “guess they’re feeling a little feistier than usual, with the district championship just around the corner. rumour has it one of you guys is risking his scholarship if he’s not in the top three.”

are you and san close?

that’s a good question. see, by social standards, you’re not strangers. you share several classes, you attend the same parties, you’ve even texted a few times- mostly on the days one of you miss class (read as: san misses class thanks to his swim-meets) and you need a copy of any notes taken that lesson.

but, you aren’t exactly friends either. you don’t go out of your ways to spend time together, you don’t know more than the surface level about one another, you don’t check-in with each other.

so, is acquaintances the best word to describe you two?

that depends on how common it is for an acquaintance to suck another acquaintance’s cock. granted, there had been a lot of alcohol in the mix, on both ends, with you drinking to forget a botched assignment and san drinking to forget how badly his voice had apparently cracked in front of his crush.

a few weeks have passed since the incident and things haven’t exactly been the same. you’ve missed class twice and ended up contacting heather- a sweet girl who sits down by the front and seems to live with her hand raised in the air- for any notes. likewise, san has found himself declining party invitations, the knowledge that you would be there all too prevalent in the front of his mind.

the irony is that neither of you quite know the reason why you’re avoiding each other, you just are.

or, were, until san had walked in with his swim team buddies- if they could even be considered that- and spotted you in your lifeguard attire. he hadn’t been as slick as he thought he was, sneaking glances at you between laps and even gaining an undeniable smile each time he watched you blow that stupid whistle at some misbehaving kids.

he was slicker with the fact he didn’t need to be here, at this hour. but, he figured staying gave him the chance to stare at you a little longer and, maybe, think up an excuse to talk to you.

“i should-”

“i missed-”

you both speak at the same time, minutes after watching the three musketeers disappear into the locker rooms, with the smallest of them continuing to dig at them for not being able to out-swim him despite their ample amount of height. san’s quick to signal you to go first, a dimple making itself known on his face and reminding you of the deadliest part of him: the false innocence that drips off him like warm candy.

sweet, sticky, making a mess all over the place.

“i should probably start cleaning up.” it turns out san also isn’t discreet when it comes to hiding the disappointment in his face, because no sooner than those words leave your mouth, the dimple is gone and he’s sat a little straighter, a little more ridged, like when the professor points him out in the middle of the class and the golden boy can’t stomach all the attention being on him. “but, what were you gonna say?”

“oh,” and it’s like he’s just remembered that yes, there is something he wants to say. “i missed you in class yesterday.”

it catches you off guard, leaving you to almost drop the whistle you’ve been fiddling between your fingers for the past few minutes. something about sitting so close to him while both of you are dressed so scantily has you feeling unnerved, like you need to run away as fast as possible, yet also wanting to plant yourself right in his lap.

“i didn’t think,” you’re cut off by your own throat, dry and desperate for a drink under his intense gaze. san is a walking contradiction, you think, with his sharp cheekbones and soft heart, his intense eyes and his easy-going smile. his presence gives you never-ending whiplash, never sure if he’s more angel than devil. “i didn’t think you noticed.”

“how could i not? there was no one to laugh with me at professor nam and his weird toe-shoes!” his laugh is infectious, willing your own to make an appearance.

the sound of distant muffled yelling fills the air of the swimming pool and it isn’t hard to recognise wooyoung’s high-pitched laughter amongst it. clearly, their childish arguing has carried on into the changing rooms. it surprises you in no way, already more than used to their antics.

their rivalry is one for the ages, all of them constantly bumping heads for the spot of the top swimmer on campus, their sports scholarships becoming their pride and joy.

you suppose it doesn’t help that all four boys run in different circles, only really crossing paths when faced with swim-meets and days of practice. the senior, park seonghwa, runs with the richer kids of the college, all sharing their trust-funds and god complexes as a common interest. you’re not overly familiar with them, though you’re certain he and a particular blue-haired boy are rarely seen apart. jeong yunho, the tallest, is in with the jocks, which is mostly just because his taller friend is the captain of the basketball team. and jung wooyoung tends to surround himself with the stoners from the school, something you’d learned from kang yeosang, a dealer you shared a couple classes with back in your first semester.

san, ever the golden boy, drifts between a couple different groups but he can usually be found alone and enjoying his own company, if not being followed by a flock of his own little fan-club, men and women alike begging for just an ounce of his time.

your name echos around the room. your head snaps to the side and you find that san is now closer, staring at you in a way that’s making your insides knot up. you’ve seen that look only once before, and it done nothing but leave your knees and your ego bruised. “were you listening to me?”

“what? uh, yeah, i was,” you’re quick to lie, knowing it’s about to backfire when he breaks out in a challenging grin.

“really? what did i say?” he only allows you to stumble over words for a minute before cutting off your incomprehensible speaking when he grabs at your chin and tilts your head up, staring straight into your eyes. “that’s what i thought. you were too busy getting lost in that pretty little head of yours to pay attention to me.”

you stutter over a noise and settle for that as your response, though entirely incomprehensible and nonsensical. the way he continues to stare at you feels cruel, demons dancing around in those pretty eyes of his. demons that are telling him to tease, torture, torment the fragile eyes staring back at him, the same ones he’d delighted in watching fill up with tears a few weeks back, the pressure of his crown slamming against the back of your tight throat entirely overwhelming you to the point of crying, tears dripping down your cheeks and mixing with your own drool pooling over the swell of his balls.

“need me to repeat myself?” you’re slow to catch up to the fact he’s speaking again, and even slower to notice the hand resting on your knee. at first, you think you’re imagining things, the feather light tracing of nails over your soft skin a mere figment of your imagination. but, no, your eyes flash down to glimpse and his hand is there, fingers dancing over your naked skin like it’s their own personal stage and he’s intending to put on the show of a lifetime. he speaks your name. “questions are meant to be answered.”

“i-” san picks the perfect time to apply pressure on you, hand gripping the flesh on the lower end of your thigh. goosebumps spring to life at the feeling of his cold ring on your damp skin. it takes a shaky breath to try compose yourself but you do eventually manage to get a reply out. “sorry... please say it again.”

“huh,” he pauses to contemplate, slowly leaning his face closer to your own, giving you all the time to pull back if you want to. you stay still and his minty breath infects your senses while the hand on your leg replaces your thigh with your face, the grip he has on it forcing blunt nails to nip at your skin. normally, you’d worry about the marks it’s going to leave behind. right now, you want him to grip tighter, dig deeper into your flesh till he’s drawing blood and licking it off your cheeks. “how the fuck do you still sound so cute begging?”

“is that,” his other hand curls around the back of you, finding a resting place on your hip. the window of opportunity you once had to pull back or run away is slammed shut the moment he tugs you a little closer, the side of your body crashing into his naked chest. “what you said earlier?”

“oh, no.” san almost sounds like he’s cooing, a mocking tone in his voice that has your thighs clenching in a way you’re sure he notices. his eye flickering down to glance at them confirms your suspicions, the smirk taking over his features the metaphorical cherry on top. “i was just talking about how i’ve still not returned the favour.”

mind blanking out on you, you stare back at him in what you can only imagine to be a dumb-founded look, mouth slightly agape and teasing your answer.

what follows, however, is a resounding silence on your end.

“c’mon, princess, don’t tell me you’ve forgotten what happened the last time i got you alone.”

forget? it’s all you’ve been able to think of every time you’ve seen him since, whether he was a figure in the corner of your eye during class or making his way down the campus car-park in search of his beaten up mustang.

each time, like an old record player, your mind plays on loop the way he looked staring down at you, long legs spread enough to fit you between them, closing in on you to trap you in place each time you swallowed him a little deeper; replaying the symphony of whiny moans and airy breaths you’d pulled from him, lips swollen and red from trying too hard to hold back his cries of pleasure; reviving the memory of his vice grip on your hair, tugging at the roots to tilt you back into the perfect angle for his hips to piston into your warm mouth, meeting his own crescendo in one final pathetic whimper of your name.

a whimper that’s pushed you over the edge several times since, fingers soaked in your own sins and mouth biting down on your pillow to keep your poor sleeping roommate oblivious to your actions.

“no,” an answer escapes you alongside a shaky breath, something about the way he’s slowly trailing his fingers down your neck and the intensity he’s staring at you with hypnotising you into forgetting all about the boisterous boys and their changing-rooms chanting. “haven’t forgot.”

it’s his turn to stay quiet and you begin to wonder if he’s recalling it too, if he’s reminding himself of how easily your bodies melted together, like candle-wax meeting a flame. the question of if he’s thought about the exact scene, hands stuffed down his pants while a dull ache builds in his wrist, burns the tip of your tongue.

but his eyes burn you more.

they’re usually wide, bright, full of that bubbly nature san is known all over for. but, if what people say is true and the eyes are the mirror to one’s soul, then san’s soul must be a dark pit made up of lustful glares and hooded eyelids, resting so low his eyes almost appear shut.

“then, don’t you agree that it’s my turn to have a taste?”

it’s the question to end all questions, no time to even think of forming an answer when his fingertips are dancing over your skin so rhythmically, like a practiced choreography when they curl and wrap themselves around your neck. they rest there for a heartbeat, and then another, before you feel it begin.

the pressure is dull, at first, and you think you’re imagining it. but it grows, like a seed under the sun, blossoms into thorns squeezing around your airways, a deformed rose made from the red marks his fingers will be sure to leave behind.

you try to breath in, only for it to get caught somewhere between your lips and his tightening hold.

“you’re too fucking pretty, you know?” the hand on your hip has found a new home on your cheek, palm warm and thumb rough as he swipes it over your bottom lip. “all i can ever think about around you, even when you were drooling all over my balls.”

you want to answer, you really do. but between the hand around your throat and the heat shooting straight for your core, burning up in a puddle of arousal, you can’t. all you can do is watch the man before you, raven hair a beautiful mess just begging for some fingers to be ran through it and stare promising to ruin you in the best way possible.

the silence pleases him.

“y’know, it’s so hard to get you alone. always got someone wanting to talk to you, stealing your attention. do you even know how many stupid parties i had to attend to finally get the chance to talk to you?” san pauses, like he’s waiting for you to relay an answer, guess a number. he loosens up the grip on your neck, teasing your skin with a few soothing strokes of his slender fingers, lulling you into a state bordering insanity. “no answer, angel? or are you lost in that pretty little head again?”

“i’m,” your voice is but a whisper, raspy with your new found thirst. “trying to figure out what you want from me.”

if it’s the wrong or right thing to say, you’re soon to find out, the sharp faced boy releasing a dangerously low chuckle as he takes a hold of your chin. like a pretty doll, you move any time and any way his fingers command you to, finding yourself staring right up into his eyes, a swirl of melting caramel that reminds you of how sweet yet sultry every inch of him is. lips near touching, he refuses to break eye contact as he speaks up once more, sealing both your fates when his breath hits your face.

“then let me show you what i want.”

his mouth comes down on yours like it’s the answers to all your prayers and, yet, all your nightmares.

it excites you how easily he works his lips over your own, captivating every inch of you when he tilts his head to the right and deepens the kiss. the rhythm to his kiss is a mismatch of beats, where one moment your lips are moving in a sensual waltz, grazing tongues and dipping heads to get rid of that inch of a space remaining between your bodies, and the next moment your tongues are tangled in a tango, the kind where his teeth send blood rushing to your lips with every bite he drags over them and his hand drags shivers down your spine as it makes its way down your body.

yet it terrifies you how willingly you succumb to san’s touch, intoxicated by whatever witchcraft he currently holds over you. there’s a deadliness to the way his lips part from your own only to begin a seamless descent down your jaw and the expanse of your neck, a poisonous element to the way his hand once again finds itself clutching the meat of your thigh.

the moment his fingertips meet the bottom of your shorts, you’re wishing you’d never slipped them on in the first place, every fibre of your being growing angsty under the weight of his suddenly halted hand. it stays still for an immeasurable amount of time, grazing over the bottom of your shorts occasionally while he continues to mouth at your neck.

like mosses and the great sea, san parts your legs with little to no effort, creating a pathway for his fingers to travel further up your thigh. blunt fingernails drag up your skin, a trail of goosebumps being left behind, a visible marking of where he’s touching you.

his movements halt too soon for your liking, too much distance between his lithe fingers and your body’s very core.

“have you figured out what i want yet, pretty?” his voice is a stark difference to the usual light-hearted, almost squeak-like tone you’ve grown used to hearing from the smiley boy. right now, there’s no trace of humour in the thick rasp and there’s no time for smiling while he’s glaring down at you through hooded eyes.

something compels you to nod your head, even though you’re a little too lost in the thoughts concerning what you want, rather than what the devil incarnate by your side wants.

“you have?” the words come out in a layer of amazement, and you have to wonder if it’s because of the lie you’ve just told or the way your legs have closed in around his hand, trapping it between them. “i want to know what you want, though.”

you want his thumb to stop stroking over the flesh of your inner thigh.

you want his eyes to stop gazing down at you like you’re the perfect prey.

you want him to stop teetering your impending pleasure on a string.

you want-

“you.” is all you manage to breath out.

it seems to do the trick, however, your point getting very much across to him. a softness flickers over his features, brows unfurling and smirk curling up into a full smile for what feels like an eternity, but is actually no more than a couple of seconds before his devilish aura is back.

lips meet lips again, the desperation and force behind each stroke of his tongue against yours the same as before. san, much to your delight, seems to grow just as impatient as you’ve been since the moment he welcomed himself into the empty space next to you on the bench.

one hand still resting between your thighs, his other seizes the opportunity to drag your body closer, so close that you have no choice but to swing one leg over him and slot yourself in his lap.

there was one time, in the middle of what you’ve deemed to be the most boring lecture ever, that you had thought about what it would feel like to sit in choi san’s lap. unintentionally, of course, for how could anyone look over at him in those grey sweatpants, legs manspreading like it was nobody’s business and pen tapping away at the table in front of him, and not daydream about being perched in his lap, head resting somewhere between his shoulder and his soft hair?

you’d imagined him to be the embodiment of soft and comfortable, warm and reassuring the way he’d lazily lay an arm over your hip to make sure there’s no risk of you slipping out of your new seat. you never, for the life of you, imagined you’d feel the outline of his dick resting against your ass the first time you finally claimed your throne.

choosing to not dwell on the heavy feeling of him pressed against you, you choose instead to focus on the way his lips trail away from yours and make their descent towards the top of your chest.

his hand abandons post between your thighs and rises to the surface, where long fingers begin to pull at the straps of your red swimsuit, successfully manoeuvring the nylon material till it’s bunched around your midriff and your breasts are exposed to the damp air of the swimming hall.

with no want left to play around, he dives right in to dragging his lips down the upper swell of your left breast. you imagine he can feel the beating of your racing heart beneath the goosebump littered skin. it doesn’t take long for his tongue to enter the scene, skilfully flicking over your hardened nipple a couple times before enveloping his mouth around the bud.

one, two, three sucks and he’s moving on to your right breast. there’s no lead up, this time, simply his mouth finding delight in toying with your body while he busies his hand with your left side, thumb and pointer finger rolling and tugging and spreading the remnants of his saliva over your heated skin.

the straw that breaks the camel’s back, and has you arching your own, is the faintest pressure of his teeth biting down on you. it dances on a thin line between pleasurable and painful, exhilarating enough to make you throw your head back as a moan slips past your lips. it echoes in the empty room, replaying your own sound for both of you to hear again and again before the chain is broken by a giggle.

his giggle.

“why are,” he picks the right time to trail his fingers down your body, dragging your swimsuit with them till it sits uncomfortably tight around the top of your hipbones, skintight fabric digging into the damp skin. “you laughing?”

“has anyone ever told you how pretty your tits are?” it’s crude and heartwarming all at once, quite like the man who says it and the little smile he shoots up in your direction as he rolls his tongue over your nipple once again.

“no, i can’t say they have.” the hands that have been resting on his shoulder, grasping them in a vice grip in fear of slipping off of him and and directly onto the concrete floor, gain enough confidence for you let one slide around to the back of his neck and thread your fingertips in the back of his locks, hair as soft as you’ve always imagined it to be. “you’re the first.”

“i’ll wear that title with honour,” he seems to delight in the way you’re carding through his hair, eyes closing while he tilts his head back further into your touch. a delighted sigh follows. “has anyone ever asked you to sit on their face?”

“again, no.”

“another honourable title for me, i guess.” san’s giving you whiplash, with all this switching between being his usual goofy self and the man that minutes before was speaking profanities on how you’d looked choking on his dick. he peaks his eyes open again, slowly, adjusting to the bright lights he stares up at each time he’s doing the backstroke. when he has the nerves to smile at you, all dreamy eyed and relaxed sitting beneath your body on the bench. “now, can you please stand up and get naked so you can fuck yourself on my tongue?”

this time, it’s your laugh that echoes in the air.

“stop, i’m being serious!” he seems to whine his way through his words, bottom lip jutting out ever so slightly in a way you’re certain is going to drive you insane. “i can’t go another second like this, you literally sitting on my dick, without blowing my load. and i really don’t feel like having to explain to coach kwon why my team speedos are stained in cum.”

“you’re so-” you give up on trying to find a single word to describe him, knowing there’s no word that can quite capture choi san’s essence. “okay, okay, fine, but you kind of need to let go of me for me to, y’know, stand up.”

“oh, sorry bout that.” san’s sheepish smile shouldn’t be this cute, not when it’s followed by him removing his hands from your half-naked body.

reluctant, your feet meet the ground and you stand up from his lap. he seems to move quicker than you, no hesitation to be seen as he twists his body around and lays along the bench on his back, eyes all the while watching you expectantly.

your fingers are far from as nimble as his, and there’s a shake to them, meaning you’re a lot less slick with how you pull the swimsuit off yourself. you opt for killing two birds with one stone, dragging your shorts down alongside the red suit, till both are pooled around your feet and you’re begging with every cell in your body that you look more graceful than you feel, stepping out of the leg holes.

in all honesty, you’re more embarrassed with the fact he’d watched you remove your clothes than with how you’re now stood naked, legs a little shaky and the wetness gathering between your folds you’re suddenly so much more aware of, the cool air fighting against your pulsating heat.

“well?” san speaks with expectation, legs bent at the knee while the balls of his feet rest on the edge of the bench. “are you gonna just stand there or you gonna sit on my face?”

“are you... sure you want me to?” even you feel the idiocy behind asking such a thing, when he’s laying right there with eyes full of glee and a raging boner pressed against his hip, nothing but the familiar colours of your college to stop you from seeing him all his naked glory. still, you can’t help elaborating. “i mean, the bench isn’t exactly sturdy and, i mean, what if i slip off of you?”

“y/n, are you joking? you have to be joking!” his offence is playful enough to ease a little of the hesitation inside of you. “do you see these puppies, baby? these are my mad gains from flailing my silly little arms around in a pool six days a week!”

you think this can’t be real as you watch the golden boy of the school put on a show, flexing his arms in an effort to display his muscles and voicing the most ridiculous words that not even he seems to be taking seriously, a bubble of laughter popping in every sentence.

“i’m not gonna let you slip, now hurry up!” again with the whining.

“god, you’re so desperate!”

“for you? always.”

the following minute is made up of wobbled steps and a poor attempt at amping yourself up, repeating mantra after mantra in your head that you are the sex goddess and no man is going to make you feel nervous. not even if that man has a jaw one could slice diamonds with.

he’s got a firm grasp of your thighs before you’ve even got the chance to get comfortable, legs a little shaky as you hover over his naked chest and will your knees to find grip on the bench beneath them.

“come closer, my tongue’s not that long!” san’s pulling you up, closer, all the way to where his wanton mouth awaits you. as if to give you a preview of what awaits you, the kisses from before reduced to nothing, his tongue pops out to run over the smooth of his bottom lip. you repeat the process of trying to find balance, a position in which you don’t need to worry about toppling overboard. though, with the way his finger squeeze into your thigh, you doubt you’ll have to worry about that truly happening. “comfortable?”

“as i’ll ever be.”

“all the people that would die to be in your position, and you say that?” he tsks, tongue hitting off the roof of his mouth before a blow of air hits against your folds and, though it’s faint from the distance still between his mouth and where he wants it to be, it sends a jolt of excitement up your spine. “i’ll just have to make sure i over-perform, make you more eager for next time.”

neither of you choose to dwell on the words next time.

him, too occupied with getting his first taste, tongue licking a strip up your core and coming to a stop as the tip of it bumps against your clit.

you, too busy having the air knocked out of your lungs, hand unconsciously finding safety in gripping his hair as you lurch forward momentarily, mouth falling open in a quiet gasp that echoes around and around.

“hmm, make sure you hold on tight.” you know he’s teasing you, with his words, and with his eyes, and with his mouth that seems to find enjoyment in trailing itself over your clitoral hood and up your pubic bone. “you smell mouthwatering, you know? enough to make a man go feral.”

the chance to reply never comes, not when san makes his way back down to your clit and greets it with the stroke of his flattened tongue. every tiny nerve sparks to life under his touch and you feel yourself grow wetter, a wave of warm arousal leaking out of your hole. his tongue dives down to welcome it, not allowing more than a single drop- landing on his chin- to go to waste.

you don’t even notice the lack of his grip around your left leg until you feel it: the first few seconds of his fingertips probing around your soaked cunt, coating themselves in your liquid pleasure until it’s dripping down the back of his hand.

the first finger to enter your hole is gentle, tentative to the way your body receives him, his pointer and ring finger keeping your folds spread and allowing him the full view of the middle one slowly disappearing from sight, burying itself in the warmth of your pussy. distracted, his mouth pulls back and his head meets the bench again while his eyes soak in the sight above him, flickering up to catch your reaction when another finger enters you, this time with a lot less care as it forces you open around it.

“so pretty,” he mutters the words, more to himself than to you, delighting as he witnesses you struggling to bite back a pathetic moan when his digits curl within you. he repeats the action a couple times, flicking his wrist back and forth, fingers brushing over your tight walls each time and culminating in a curl that has him pressing against the spongy-like flesh inside. “so, so pretty.”

your hips begin to rut against his hand, meeting every one of his thrusts with perfect timing that has him reaching deeper, further, better places inside of you. all the while he’s just watching and admiring the furrow in your brow and the way the swells of your breast bounce in sync with you.

your pussy clenches tighter and his fingers fight to reach deeper before spreading themselves wider in an attempt to scissor you open. he’s giving it his all, a third finger slipping in despite the dull ache setting in his wrist while he coaxes you closer and closer to the tipping point.

san takes just as easy as he gives, and it’s that fact alone that drives him to pull his hand back, fingers withdrawing from you and the pleasure you’re pursuing.

“why’d you-” you heave through heavy breaths, brain fuzzy from the unvoiced orgasm you were so close to having, every nerve ready to tingle, every muscle ready to tremble, every toe ready to curl. “stop?”

“because,” the wet smack of his fingers hitting against your clit is louder than the whimper that drops from your mouth. san hears both, however, and grins, quickly landing another smack against your engorged clit. “the goal is to make you cum on my face, not my fingers. consider them the appetiser, something to awaken your senses.”

his tongue licks in an upward motion, starting from the tip of your taint and ending at your clit, and you get deja-vu to just minutes before, when you’d first felt his tongue on your melting skin, the saliva it leaves in a trail behind it serving to cool you down. a shiver runs up your spine as he blows air onto your cunt, the pressure of it doing wonders to stimulate your clit.

“would you stop?”

“look who’s whining now.” san, despite what he says, does as you ask and puts an end what feels like unending teasing- really, it’s hardly been a minute but the pulsing of your heat and the loss of a climax leave you no room to think about something as abstract as time.

his lips make a victorious return, wrapping themselves around your clit and sucking against the pulsing nub. every so often, he delivers a couple kitten licks- ups and downs, sides to sides, figure eights- before swiftly returning to kissing your most intimate parts.

in an attempt to make your toes curl, he dips lower and teases the tips of his tongue over your entrance, wet muscle moving over wet skin and tastebuds covering themselves in your essence, till the moans echoing off the walls are indistinguishable between san’s and your own.

“you can move,” he grunts into you after a few minutes of repeated alternating between kissing your clit and tonguing at your hole. it’s muffled with the way he’s holding you down against his face and you feel his lips brush against your lower ones as he speaks. “need you to move. wanna see you use me, pretty.”

and, who are you to deny the man?

you’re hesitant at first, just like you were all those weeks ago as you sank to your knees for him. you test the waters and give a single roll of your hips. it feels good, great, especially when paired with his own efforts at dragging his tongue over you.

it takes a few more attempts, and san’s patience wearing thin to the point he resorts to grabbing a firm hold of your arse cheeks and planting you flat on his mouth, tongue flat and eyes staring up at you in a demand to move, goddamn it.

move you most certainly do, grinding down on his tongue like you’ve done many a time with different men’s cocks. it’s messy, sloppy in the way that his spit mingles with your wetness, a cocktail of fluids sliding down his throat, and painting his lips, and dribbling down his chin as he eats you like a man starved that’s alas getting a taste of the sweetest fruit.

the rhythm of your hips is thrown off when the man beneath you switches from having you grinding down onto his flattened tongue to slipping the muscle inside of your hole, thrusting it as far as up as the length of it allows him to. with every time your body comes crashing down on his mouth, the tip of his nose bumps against your clit, forcing you to angle yourself upwards to gain more of the friction.

hands find hair, lips part in unabashed moans, thighs shake with the oncoming of an orgasmic state of mind.

the moment builds too quickly, too unexpectedly, like the ghost of your stolen climax is back with a vengeance and set on ensuring there will be no denying it this time.

“s-shit,” your eyes squeeze shut, too scared to look down at his ecstasy filled eyes in fear of it being what finally tips you over the edge. “i’m gonna- ah- gonna cum.”

san pays no mind to your warning. if anything, he takes it as a challenge, an invisible timer beginning in his head and forcing him to see how quickly he can get you to unravel all over his face. he’s getting everything he asked for, your naked body a mess above him as you fuck yourself on his tongue and your hands, with minds of their own, sliding up to grab and squeeze at your tits.

he watches how the pastel blue nail polish clashes with the darkened colour of your abused nipples, fingers working to pinch, and twist, and pull at them as you lose yourself in the moment.

when you cum, it’s with rolled-back eyes and shaky thighs, his hands gripping at you tighter to steady you as you sway above him, his tongue working at coaxing you through your high.

he licks up every drop of cum he can manage, until you’re cringing in overstimulation and reaching down to push him away. he let’s you move him, mouth moving to trail a couple kisses over your inner thigh, something akin to lipstick stains- yet so much dirtier in nature- being left behind on your soft flesh.

“told you i wouldn’t let you fall,” he’s the first to speak, partly because he correctly thinks you’re incapable of forming anything coherent in the afterglow of your orgasm, but mostly because he wants- no, needs to hear you praise him.

needs to hear you praise him like he’d done for you that night, eyes still hooded and chest visibly heaving as he finished processing watching you swallow every spurt of hot cum he’d shot down your throat. the praise never comes.

well, at least not from you.

at first he thinks he’s imagining the sound of clapping. it’s slow, and booming, and tinted with the slightest hint of sarcasm. it grows louder though, far too loud for it to just be in his imagination. the stilling of your body, going rigid as you fall back onto his chest, the sticky remnants of your orgasm cold against his heated skin, confirms that you hear the clapping too.

“bravo, choi. always thought your reputation with the ladies was a little overhyped, but i stand corrected.”

never has he hated the sight of park seonghwa so much, not even in the times they’ve been head-to-head in the final lap and the older male’s offensively bright swim-cap is all san can see every time he twists his head to catch a breath of air.

the three swimmers stand on the opposite end of the swimming pool, all in various stages of undress.

there’s wooyoung, who looks like he’s not so much as dried himself with a towel, still dressed in his team swimwear. and yunho, who’s got a towel wrapped around his waist messily, hair damp against his forehead and likely smelling of the cheap shampoo provided in the locker-room showers. lastly, seonghwa, who’s seemingly fully dressed spar for one of those irritating long coats san always sees him trailing around campus in.

one look into your panicked eyes is enough for san to spring into action, fumbling to sit himself up and pull your body flush against his, facing your naked back in the direction of his rivals.

he bites back a groan as you shift in his lap, unknowingly- or maybe you do know- pressing your soaked centre against his erection, which already strains inside the confines of the nylon material, leaving very little to the imagination.

“do you mind?” he’s glad the words come out clearly, booming across the pool at them and their unwavering staring.

“not at all.”

san holds you tighter against him, eyeing at your discarded swimsuit on the floor as he listens to a shuffle of footsteps. assuming the three men have made their way back into the locker-room, he’s speechless when he looks up to find them approaching the bench, seonghwa leading the trio with a secure grip on the back of wooyoung’s neck, whose eyes can’t seem to leave the floor, while yunho trails a little behind them, one hand grasping onto the towel around him.

“get your hands off her!” he leans back, pulling you with him, in an attempt to stray out of seonghwa’s reach as he extends his hand out. he fails, however, and the tips of seonghwa’s elongated fingers brush over your shoulder.

a shiver runs down you, one that san feels, the unexpected touch tickling your nerves.

“she’s a grown up,” the eldest of the men muses as he builds a rhythm out of how his fingers soother over your sweat slicked skin. “who i’m sure can speak for herself if she wants my hands off her.”

out of all the men, seonghwa has always been the one san despised most. between the constant boasting of wealth- money he acquired through labor, though not the working kind- and the disrespect he’s never had a problem showing towards others, he never fails to strike a nerve, awakening a dark part of san’s brain that activates his fight or flight response. by far, however, his arrogance is the worst, that sense of entitlement that drives him to think everything and everyone is a piece of clay for him to mold and manipulate till they fit his ideal shape.

the rich boy’s hand smoothes over your naked shoulder and san can’t resist glaring up at him.

“c’mon san, now’s hardly the time to be modest,” behind the oldest swimmer, yunho and wooyoung seem to be battling an inner conflict, yunho fighting to keep his towel in place and wooyoung fighting to keep the shame off his face while his dick visibly strains against the confines of his chlorine-covered swimwear. “not after the show you two just put on.”

“we didn’t,” it’s the first time you manage to speak since covering san’s tongue in your cum, breathing at last steady and face hidden from everyone’s view, much to san’s despair. “know you were watching.”

“and, if you had known, would you have stopped?” yunho is the one asking the question and, suddenly, san’s so much more aware of what exactly he’s hiding underneath his towel.

you give no answer.

“of course she wouldn’t,” seonghwa answers for you, hand moving to grasp the back of your neck. with no warning, he grips a little too tight for comfort and and yanks you backwards, till you’re staring right into san’s eyes and the only thing keeping you perched in his lap is seonghwa’s body pressed flat against yours. “there’s nothing a whore loves more than an audience, right?”

if put on trial in a court of law and sworn to tell the truth, and nothing but the truth, over whether or not you’d just clenched around nothing at park seonghwa’s degrading name, you’d plead that you never did such a thing.

you’d be found guilty.

“poor woo nearly came untouched just watching you two. isn’t that right?” the eldest turns to stare back at where you imagine wooyoung to be. “pretty boy nearly whined just at the thought of being in san’s position, a mouth full of cunt and someone using him like the fuck-toy he is.”

the air grows thick, between you, and san, and every other living being in the room. it feels like the walls are closing in on themselves with every second that passes, the sweat dripping down your back and coming to a rest between your arse cheeks evidence that the space is heating up. or maybe it’s just your body, hardly processing the high it’s just come down from and there’s already another source for a new-found arousal, a source in the shape of three muscular men stood behind you and one beneath you, eyes wary as he gazes into your own, like he wants to ask if you’re okay but all the blood is too busy circulating in his crotch for his brain to be productive.

“now, i hardly think it’s very nice of you to get our wooyoung all riled up and not even offer to help him out.” you decide you’re being lulled into a false sense of safety the second you feel the pressure of seonghwa’s hand leave your skin. behind you, there’s a shuffling of footsteps that call you to crane your neck and catch a glimpse of what exactly is going on but san’s eyes beg you to keep staring into his, to count the galaxies that dance within them while he grips at your waist. “so the chance to offer is off the table and you’re simply going to do as told. doesn’t that sound easier, hmm? no having to make pesky decisions, just spread those legs and follow orders.”

at last, you get your first glimpse at jung wooyoung.

he sits down on the bench, no more than a breath of space between where you and san are perched. he’s a vision in himself, shoulders hunched and embarrassed face the same shade of red as the tip of his cock, an angry looking bulbous head poking out the top of far-too-tight speedos.

san’s grip tightens the longer you stare at the other boy, gaze dancing over the shape of his body and mouth-watering as, for the first time, you see the appeal of jung wooyoung. never before have you understood why eyes follow him in the hallways, like he’s more than just another pretty boy on campus- something that’s in abundance. but you see it now, understand the appeal of his stand-out nose; and the veins that run down his arms; and floppy style to his hair, that seems to be calling out to have your fingers running through it.

with no prior warning, the grip on your hips tightens even more, till san is digging crescents into the soft skin and he’s lifting you, off of his lap and right into wooyoung’s.

the usually boisterous boy’s eyes meet yours, no longer filled with that spark of defiance and, instead, glazed over in tears, a quiet pleading being exchanged between you.

only, you’re unsure what he’s begging of you.

“are you going to just sit there,” seonghwa speaks up, boredom in his tone that has you picturing him rolling his eyes and picking at his manicured nails. “or are you going to help the poor pup cum?”

“what?!” that certainly helps you find your voice, and the guts to turn around and look at the man.

you find him stood closer than you imagined, with tailored trousers hugging his thighs and a perfectly ironed shirt tucked into them, the last few messy buttons the only indication he’d rushed to dress himself. eyes looking past him, you find more of a friendly aura in yunho, who, despite fighting a battle against the towel wrapped around his figure, manages to shoot a smile at you.

and then there’s san, who stands with muscled arms crossed over his chest and a painfully obvious boner resting in the confines of his swimwear, though he’s done a better job at keeping himself concealed than the boy beneath you. his face appears indifferent, yet the twitch in his eye speaks of a tamed anger, a frustration he’s yet to unleash on the men who’d interrupted him amidst his feast.

“are you now deaf along with being dumb or something?” the eldest pulls your attention back to him with little effort, a smirk meeting the glare you shoot his way. “you made that brat hard, now do your job and fix the mess you’ve made.”

words of protest get lost in a surprised gasp as the boy in question takes your hand in his, veiny hand guiding you down to a veiny shaft. wooyoung wraps both of your fingers over his leaking cock, his holding yours in place around him while he ruts his hips up once, twice into your hold, the action sending his swimwear even further down the his length and exposing nearly the full sight of it to the swimming hall.

you don’t mean to compare, yet you’re incapable of ignoring the fact that while wooyoung may be on the slightly shorter side compared to san, he’s certainly leading in the thickness department, with a mushroomed head and the prettiest trail of trimmed hairs leading down his pelvis.

he guides you over his shaft a number of times, a little less shy now as he outwardly whines when your thumb runs over his tip, wiping away the fat bead of precum resting upon it. at some point, he moves his hand away, needing both of his free to lean back on the bench, yet yours keeps moving at it’s own volition, stroking him in a pattern of threes, interrupting every trio with a swipe over his tip or a fondle of his still-concealed balls.

“please,” the whine in his voice is so unlike the jung wooyoung you’ve watched week after week, hurling abuse and echoing boasts of his own talents while keeping himself afloat in the swimming pool.

“he asked nicely.” you’d just about forgotten about everyone else in the room, until seonghwa’s irritatingly unbothered voice serves to remind you of his presence. “rule number one: good behaviour is rewarded.”

“what do i,” you interrupt your own question to glance over wooyoung once more. “do?” you pinch your thigh, skin stinging as nails bite it, and confirm with yourself that this is not a dream but, in fact, very much real.

jung wooyoung is hard and begging you to do something.

“i don’t care how you do it, just put one of your holes to good use for once and make him cum.”

there’s still an echo of seonghwa’s voice by the time you successfully manage to rid wooyoung of his swimwear, the damp fabric clinging to the warm skin and the taut muscles of his thighs. the boy isn’t much help either, seemingly reduced to nothing but a writhing, panting mess instead of someone competent enough to raise himself off the bench just enough for you to undress him.

the sight is mesmerising, one you’re certain will remain ingrained in your memory till the day you die: wooyoung, disheveled and untouched, with his achingly hard cock pressed flat against his lower stomach, his swimmer-thighs spread with a set of balls between them that you find yourself near salivating over as a trickle of his own precum runs down them.

“your cock’s...” you begin to speak, yet trail off as your digits wrap themselves around his shaft, just to delight in the way his breath jumps when you drag your hand upwards and give a soft squeeze as you reach the head. “so pretty, woo.”

“youngie.” seonghwa cuts in from behind you. “he prefers to be called youngie when he’s getting his cock teased.”

“yeah, youngie?” you try it out.

instantly, he nods and something akin to a whimper flies out of him.

fascinated by his shaky breaths and his pretty chest, where warm, tanned skin appears to be near glowing under the swimming halls bright lights as his cheeks flush a palette full of reds and pinks, your eyes are completely fixed on him. there’s something vulnerable and breakable about the way he’s looking at your with the widest of eyes, his eyebrows furrowed and bottom lip receiving countless abuse from his teeth.

never have you been so desperate to push someone past their own limits.

officially running on nothing but pure instincts, you close your mind off to thoughts, like how the boy you’d spent weeks avoiding and missing is stood only metres away, witnessing the way the tip of your finger teases over the slit of his sport rival’s cock. or like how park seonghwa, perhaps the campus’ most infamous trust-fund baby, seems to have complete control of the situation at hand, yourself and jung wooyoung nothing but idolised dolls he’s moving into whatever obscene position he wants you in.

instead, you focus on how wooyoung’s eyes roll back and he lets out a gasp when you gather up fluids from within your salivating mouth and part your own lips, watching how your own spit drips onto his lower stomach, and your hand, and his painfully hard cock.

the saliva serves not only as a visual pleasure, something that’s awakening inside of you at the sight of it leaving you with whole new kind of excitement bubbling along your body, but as a physical pleasure for wooyoung, who seems to have no protest to how much easier it is to slide your hand up his length with the added lubrication of your own spit.

“fuck...” he curses under his breath and his hands find purchase on your body, one gripping your hip while the other grabs at your forehand, like he’s scared you’ll release the grip you have on him and strip away the sweet release of friction. “don’t just focus on the tip- shit, ah- play with my balls too.”

“wooyoung!” ready to oblige, ready to give the pretty faced boy anything he demanded of you, you’ve no time to think of a reply before the ringmaster of this circus reminds you of his overlooking presence behind your back. “stop speaking like an ungrateful brat and take what you’re given. or else... well, i’m sure you don’t need reminding of what happens to pups that misbehave.”

the way jung wooyoung’s whole body grows rigid beneath you, paired with the countless times park seonghwa has butted in to speak on the boy’s sexual preferences, leaves you with the sense that the two are not only acquainted with how each other’s bodies move underwater..

“s-sorry,” this is not the voice of boastful jung wooyoung, who near bounces down the college halls and airdrops nudes in class because he’s bored. this is a voice that’s soft and meek. like a beady-eyed puppy, so quick to submit to it’s owner. “just feels too good. i’m sorry”

“yeah, you will be sorry.” seonghwa’s hand is cold against your back and it lulls a shiver out of you as fingers trickle down your spine like water off a duck’s wings. part of you hates him for stealing wooyoung’s attention off of you just as you were beginning to revel in it, a larger part of you wants to know why the sternness in his voice is enough to have your clit aching to be touched. “spitfire, be a good cocksleave and sit on his dick.”

“ok, stop!” a sense of shame comes over you when it takes hearing san’s outburst to remember the fact he’s watching the scene unfold. “don’t you think you’re taking this too far now, park seonghwa? i know you and wooyoung have your... agreement on how you treat each other, but don’t drag someone else into it. not when she never even asked for this.”

“you had your tongue tasting the eighth wonder of the world on that bench twenty minutes ago, both of you knowing there was a chance you’d be caught, and you want to tell me no one was asking for this?”

“that was private! you guys are the ones who-”

“there’s no such thing as privacy in a public area. besides, it’s hardly like she’s not enjoying this. if anything, i think spitfire doesn’t like the way you’re getting in the way of her teaching youngie a lesson in obedience.” you’re naive to think no one would notice the way you’ve began to grind down on wooyoung’s cock, stealing whimpers out of him as the soaked lips of your pussy rubbed up against him and holding back your own moans each time his tip meets the bundle of nerves that make up your clit. “choi, if you’re that much of a pissy pants that can’t enjoy himself even just this once in life, then feel free to leave. i’m sure the four of us will be too occupied to notice your absence.”

you’re not paying close enough attention to figure out if san’s newfound silence is due to his departure, or if he’s simply too stunned to speak, your eyes focused on nothing and no one but the boy at your mercy.

the initial burn of wooyoung breaching your entry reminds you of how long it’s been since you’d been stretched open by something other than someone’s cold fingers or wagging tongue. it’s been more or less three long months of juggling test after test, assignments piling up on your desktop and a relationship with your now ex-boyfriend being tossed completely into the gutter.

not once had you thought your return to the world of sexual bliss would be in front of an audience, much less at the very place you work.

doubting that it’s been as long for him as it has for you, wooyoung still spares nothing when it comes to reacting to your touch. with eyes squeezing shut, head rolling back, abdomen muscles flexing along side every shaken intake of breath, the boy puts on a show so pornographic it puts the professionals to shame. a whine exits his lips, lips that carry marks of his own teeth and look like they’re in need of a healthy dose of chapstick, and look so disgustingly kissable that your own tingle at the thought.

all those rumours of jung wooyoung being a camboy rush to the forefront of your mind, feeling truer than ever when your eyes take in the bob of his adam’s apple, and the perfectly timed run of his tongue over his lower lip, and the pretty way in which the prominent veins in his hands looks as he clamps his grip down on your hips.

he’s a sight worth paying for.

“are you okay?” not the first thing you’d imagined saying after sinking all the way down on his cock, the need to check up on him taking over before you’d even noticed it’s existence.

“yeah...” he sighs his way through the word, eyes still closed and grip still very much tight on your skin, blunt fingertips likely leaving crescent moons you’ll find yourself staring at for days to come, memories of this moment replaying in a rose-tinted haze. “just need a second, you- you feel good, fuck me.”

“i’m kinda already doing that, youngie.” you giggle, like a lovesick adolescent speaking to their crush of the week, but the boy’s instant smile upon hearing it puts out the fire of shame building in the pit of your stomach.

“hmm,” he hums back, acknowledging your words without giving you the satisfaction of hearing him tell you how you’re correct. “are you okay?”

wooyoung flips the question on you and it parallels with the way he pulls the rains in physically, lithe hips thrusting upwards in search of feeling more, reaching deeper inside of you. in the back of your mind you already picture a look of displeasure on park seonghwa’s face, scowling lips loading up to berate you and demand you take repossession of jung wooyoung’s sanity.

“yeah, i’m-” with the eldest man in mind, you stop and compose yourself, as well as you can while wooyoung’s mouthing at your neck, your collarbones, the tops of your breasts. “i’m wondering who told you you were allowed to touch me?”

control is easily regained, all it takes is your hand squeezing around jung wooyoung’s throat and your soaked walls clenching around his aching cock and he’s melting like ice cream on a warm summer’s day, leaving behind a sticky mess.

satisfaction and pleasure come crashing in tandem, wave after wave moving in motion with each lethargic roll of your body against the swimmer’s, who seems to be a quicker learner than you’d believed him to be, hands flying off your body like it was made up of hot stones and, instead, now holding a firm and grounding grip of the bench beneath you both.

“harder.” you feel a hint of emotion within park seonghwa’s voice this time he speaks. it’s fleeting, and hard to make out quite what feeling it is he’s experiencing, but it’s there and it’s certainly a step up from the usual shameless, egotistical, megalomaniac tone he takes on. “squeeze his throat tighter.”

under the possession of his commanding tone, you find yourself caving into his command, fingers pressing a little harder into wooyoung’s warm skin. the boy gulps down whatever pride he has and delivers a pleasured whine. you grind down harder and an evil, twisted part of you you’ve never met before longs to laugh at the way he so desperately is struggling to keep his composure, fighting back the urge to meet your hips with his own upward thrusts.

so, you do.

“hear that, youngie?” seonghwa’s voice becomes less grating each time you hear it, once an unwelcome and intrusive thought but now a second voice and a valued player in a game of wreck the wooyoung. “you’re being laughed at. isn’t that just pathetic?”

“y-yes, fuck-” he falls victim to your walls clenching around him, gripping his cock in a vice grip. the image of confidence withers away so easily to reveal a teary-eyed, pretty-faced, cum-desperate man. “i’m pathetic.”

“yeah, you are.” seonghwa circles his way around the rocking bench, no longer out of view hidden behind your back but, instead, staring you down with piercing eyes that cut through you like a knife to hot butter. “he’s getting close. never lasts long, really, even seen him cum untouched just from giving me head. but that’s okay, isn’t it youngie? you’re a slut for having your sack drained, huh?”

the swimmer beneath you has never looked redder than he does right now, secrets of his sexual nature getting exposed to the people he likely considers his biggest athletic competition. though you probably should, you don’t push him away when his face finds safety in the crook of your neck, parted lips covering your burning skin in sticky drool.

“don’t let him fool you guys, he’s into the degrading nature of it all. trust me.” you wonder if it should concern you the way seonghwa speaks about jung wooyoung as though he’s nothing but a pet, a possession of which he just so happens to have complete control over. you’re more concerned with the fact it excites you. “call him a good boy, i dare you.”

the words haven’t even formed in your throat and the boy between your thighs is gripping onto your waist a little tighter, lips near pouting and eyes screwed shut in uncontrollable pleasure, burning down his spine and threatening to push him over the edge of sexual bliss.

you consider having mercy, the inexperienced side of you thinking the boy looks like he’s full of shame and embarrassment. the throbbing of his rock hard cock repeatedly stuffing your aching cunt reminds you he’s getting off on the humiliation.

“is he a good boy, though?” you stare up at park seonghwa, not even sparing a whimpering wooyoung any attention as he begins a rambled protest to defend his good behaviour. “i mean, i don’t remember telling him he could touch me. do you, hwa?”

the hands that grip you tightly let go quick, like your skin were an unexpectedly warm stove, scorching his skin right off him.

“i don’t remember either,” the eldest’s agreement has you reeling in a way you never expected, filling you with a new found sense of control.

a control that is ripped away far too quickly, like park seonghwa sensed you growing falsely confident over the situation at hand.

like a shark circling it’s prey, the tall man makes his way back around the bench, each fall of his shoe-covered feet echoing in the quiet swim hall. click, click, click, and he’s right at your back, not a word uttered as the soft of his palm lands on the nape of your neck. achingly slow does it travel down the expanse of your back, not a single noise filling the space other than the rise and fall of your body on top of wooyoung’s and the same boy’s poorly contained moans and mewls of pleasure.

the silence is interrupted by your own shocked gasp, mouth falling agape in shock as your movements come to a complete halt. his hands, no longer soft and delicate, grip you in an iron-tight hold, fingers greedy as they dig into your meaty flesh with no mercy or regard for the pain it may inflict on you.

“no, get up,” like a switch was flipped in as little as a minute, park seonghwa’s voice has lost all sense of the excitement it had whilst he spoke on jung wooyoung’s dirty endeavours and has returned back to the cold, callous, commanding tone it had originally.

he sounds angry, feels angry in the way the fingers of his free hand tangle themselves in the hair at the back of your head and give a harsh tug, forcing your head back till you’re met with his scowling face and perfectly groomed hair, even in it’s dampened state it seems to frame his face perfectly.

“what?” you babble out, dumbstruck, much like the desperate boy beneath you who’s began to mutter apology after apology between pleadings of please no don’t do this and i promise i’ll behave, i’ll keep my hands to myself.

none of it works.

“you heard me. get. up.” the fingers on your waist tug, pull, drag you away from the quivering mess that has become of jung wooyoung, who near sobs as the cool air hits his now painfully hard cock, tip redder than the bottom of your favourite heels and a vein more prominent under his sensitive skin than the ones on his muscular arms. you’re not given much of a chance to process what’s happening before seonghwa speaks again. “wooyoung, up, now. you’re not getting to cum, so get off the bench and make room for someone else.”

the boy makes no further attempt to protest, cheeks painted pink in shame and chest shining with sweat as he shakily rises to his feet, head hung low when you watch him walk out of your line of sight.

then, your knees meet the floor.

park seonghwa chuckles as you go down, hands finding grip in your hair and forcing you to sit up right. heart beating faster, your mind begins to race with questions of what comes next, who comes next.

what dirty desires are about to be unveiled within you, forced into the unforgiving fluorescent lights of the swimming hall?

“jeong, you’re up,” seonghwa’s knee digs into your back and his fingers tug until your scalp begins to sting a little. you don’t want to like it but, in life, you don’t always get what you want.

there’s a series of shuffles behind you, followed by heavy footsteps. there’s no rush, yet no hesitation, just calm and collected footsteps of someone making their way over to do god knows what with you.

when jeong yunho, with his towel that’s looking a lot tighter around his crotch still around his waist, steps into frame, an inexplicable sense of comfort washes over you.

maybe it’s the way he smiles down at you, or the fact his hands brush seonghwa’s off of you, or the way his fingers take a hold of your chin once he’s seated in front of you.

maybe it’s just the fact he’s jeong yunho, campus himbo with a reputation for walking girls home at night just to make sure they’re safe and for singing britney spears with no shame each time the karaoke mic gets passed around.

whatever it is, it’s turning you on.

your knees are burning with fresh pain as park seonghwa shoves you closer to the mammoth of a man and you can’t help but swallow down the ball of anxiety growing in your throat.

everything about jeong yunho’s demeanour has always seemed large, with powerful arms that drag his body through the weight of water and large hands that effortlessly carry countless textbooks through the university halls; a tall frame that helps him stand out in any crowd and a personality loud enough to set off alarms; his thighs a muscular stairway leading up to a well rounded, remarkably defined posterior. it’s safe to say he’s carried a reputation for some time, one that consists of whispers between girls on campus who recount just how well endowed he really is. 7 inches, 9 inches, 12 inches, you’ve heard it all, each girl claiming it to be bigger than the last.

unfortunately, there’s no ruler at your disposal to uncover the truth of the rumours, but you confirm he’s certainly large as you watch him undo the towel. larger than you’ve ever seen before, with a thickness to match, and two heavy looking balls decorating the base.

he wraps a hand around it and you watch how he gives a light squeeze at the head, slowly sliding down the length of it till he reaches the tuft of groomed hairs on his pelvic bone. one of his hands alone holds half of his cock, leaving you almost certain you’d need to use both hands on him.

“d’you want it, sweetheart?” his words are teasing but his voice is soft, a complete one-eighty to the verbal berating you’ve been receiving- and enjoying- from park seonghwa.

you’re sure he notices the way you clench your thighs as he slaps his cock once, then twice against his stomach, the precum leaking out on to his tanned skinned.

there’s an itch inside your throat, one you imagine only he can scratch.

“you wanna taste it?” he’s still speaking to you through the arousal that fogs over your brain, commanding your tongue to swipe over your bottom lip as you burn your gaze at the glistening liquid on his warm skin, tastebuds aching to have him paint them in white.

you nod your head.

his own throws itself back, a chuckle rupturing out of his chest as he continues to tease himself with his hand.

“fuck, yeah, bet you can’t wait to taste my cock, feel it stab the back of your tight throat.” a smile should never look so sweet while it’s part of the same mouth spewing out such filth. somehow, jeong yunho makes it work. “gonna get it nice and wet for me, yeah? make it sloppy, i love it when a pretty thing like you gets all messy over my cock.”

the knee that’s suddenly digging it’s way into your back has no mercy. you wince, pull in a sharp breath and inch just that little bit closer to the bench. like a glove fits a hand, you slip right in between the muscled tree trunks that make up jeong yunho’s thighs.

you wonder, if only momentarily, what sweet a death it would be to be crushed between them, taut muscles constricting the flow of air to your lungs like a boa with its prey.

but there’s a far more preferable way to be choked by the man before you, body carved out in such definition you fear michael angelo himself stands in admiration of it.

his hand snakes its way around your body, warm and heavy and imposing with the grip it settles for at the base of your neck. in spite of the sharp stab coming from behind- where you have no doubt one park seonghwa stands with disgruntled impatience written all over his irritatingly perfect face- there is no doubt in your mind that the man in front of you holds the reigns. with eyes of honey and lips of velvet, he peers down at you with a tendered expression, saying nothing yet everything with the gentle, repeated sooth of his thumb over your skin.

you need no verbal instructions this time around.

a hand grips the base of him as the other squeezes the flesh of your own thigh, piercing your skin with just enough pressure to assure you this is the reality you find yourself in, rather than some twisted, substance influenced dream.

the first taste is the sweetest, tongue a missionary sent into the foreign land of his body to discover the way he reacts as you drag it over the tip. he gives nothing but a squeeze to the back of your neck; and that crumbles you under his control.

with a few more kitten licks- for good luck, if anything,- the show begins with the parting of your lips, the widening of your mouth, the burning of your skin as you struggle with your ability to swallow him whole. you make it no further than a third of his length before he’s tugging gently on your roots and bringing you back to the surface of existence.

“breathe, okay,” his voice is gentle, calming your nerves yet sending your heart into a fit of patternless beats. “inhale, exhale, got it? through the nose, that’s gonna help you relax.”

doing as he says, you swallow three whole breaths. shaky, ragged, each feeling hollow in your chest in comparison to the weight of his cock on your tongue.

“pretty girl,” he practically coos, hand cupping your chin as his thumb smoothes over the swell of your bottom lip. it’s tender, sweet, and almost enough to make you forget the sight of his engorged cock that sits angrily between his tree-trunk shaped thighs, crying out for the return of your mouth’s affection. “someone’s gotta teach you to not be greedy, hmm? small little mouth of yours is no fit for me, don’t go choking on it.”

heat flashes between your thighs, your heartbeat dropping right down to your clit and leaving you with a burning ache, the kind only a gentleman like this could soothe. your fingers may have to do, however, if the stubborn arsehole behind you would be so kind as to let you enjoy yourself.

the way park seonghwa curls his hand round the front of your neck and flexes his nimble fingers- that goddamn family heirloom ring a punishing cold to your warm skin, near brandishing you as touched by some nepotism child- when you do so little as clench your thighs together to relieve the pressure, or lack-there-of, between your thighs tells you he’ll grant you no such fun.

“you’d need to have something big enough for her to choke on,” san, precious san. still here, still somewhere beneath this god-forsaken tin-can roof swimming pool, watching you bruise your knees and your ego for another man, another one of his team-mates. what must he think of you? has he lost whatever respect he may have had? does he think he’d been just another body to exchange fluids with, that night at the party? if you could just see his face, you’d not need to wonder all these things. his eyes, they always give him away, too earnest and pure for his own good.

“shut it, choi,” yunho’s bark isn’t half as loud as seonghwa’s booming commands have been, and are nowhere near as malignant. if anything, the gentle giant is humoured by his team-mate’s words, as if he knows they’re a preposterous thing to say about him. then again, you can’t imagine any man remaining humble about themselves if they were so well-endowed. “or do you wanna crack out the measuring tape again and remind yourself of just how much of me there is to choke on?”

silence.

it takes a few moments for the spotlight to return to you, a gradual shift from playful to lust driven energy encapsulating the broad frame of the man before. he cups your cheek, feather-light touch smoothing over your skin while his eyes burrow daggers into your soul.

why must his shoulders be so wide? it almost angers you as much as it sends a wave of heat between your legs.

almost, but not quite.

“‘s cute,” he half mumbles, distracted by the sight you paint below him on your knees, bruises already forming and thighs clenching for some relief of pressure. “your little pussy’s all wet just from having my cock in your mouth.”

“i think you’re forgetting she was bouncing on woo’s dick a few minutes ago, yunho,” the devil on your shoulder won’t let you rest, hand snaking through the threads of your hair and tugging on your roots. not enough to hurt, just enough to sting. “have some modesty.”

“sure, let’s act like i’m not the one who had her cumming all over my face a while ago.” san mumbles a string of words you wish you could unhear, face heating up as the shame burns through your bloodstream.

how had you gotten here?

you’re allowed no such freedom to ponder over previous actions as jeong yunho’s all encompassing frame works to remind you of where you find yourself: on your knees dressed in nothing but your own shame- shame which seems to slip off of you, piece by piece, baring you shamelessly to this pack of wolf-eyed boys’ for their eyes to feast upon.

strong, veiny hands reach out and drag you forwards, just an inch yet it’s all you need to feel the weight of park seonghwa’s domineering figure float off of you, rendering you under the control of this much larger, far smilier looking man. “eyes on me, okay? don’t wanna miss the way i’m about to make them roll back.”

there begins a game of push and pull, where jeong yunho pushes you closer and closer to his evident arousal, all the while teasing you as he pulls his hips back, keeping your waiting mouth open and empty, and oh-so frustrated at the feeling of being so close yet so far away from his dripping tip.

the first real taste you get of him does, in fact, nearly have your eyes rolling back. a kitten lick, barely there yet fully felt, running over the underside of his cock, a taste of salted skin, and musky sweat, and stale chlorine mixing in with the warmth of him flooding your senses. his reaction is no more composed than yours, blatantly parting his lips in a gasp and bucking his hips up, forwards, any direction they need follow to chase after your mouth.

happy to comply, you take pride in tasting him a second time, this time right over the growing drop of pre-cum pebbling on his tip. white flashes behind your closing eyes as his grip in your hair tightens, a pulse of heat firing straight down your spine as your mind floods with images of what it must be like to watch this man, this gentleman, this figure that so wholly encompasses what it means to be a himbo in this day and age lose his cool and revolt into his most carnal, basal instincts to take whatever pleasure he needs from you with a reckless abandon, burrow his throbbing cock down your throat till the beat of his heart takes over your own.

instead, you settle for wrapping your lips around him, at last, and letting him guide you just that little bit down his length. the weight of him feels nice, a strange sense of comfort birthing in your bones as you grow used to feel of him taking up your palate. his breaths seem to run in tandem with the inches he sinks deep between your parted lips.

a deep breath, he lowers you further, till your left cheek begins to bulge out.

tongue pinned to the floor of your mouth, you make use of it as best you can, rolling it over the bottom of his shaft and earning yourself a plethora of gratifying sounds, each deep and desperate and crooning straight out of jeong yunho’s broad chest.

another deep breath, another inch.

for all the false dominance you wield over the situation, with the heat of your mouth and spill of your own saliva slickening his cock, his real and visceral dominance doubles it by tenfold, with a hand on the back of your neck, guiding your every move, and a knowing, gentle look cast downwards at you from where he sits propped on the bench, thighs a heavy mass to case your body between. a silly little voice in your head whispers a seductive tale of how easily this man could get you in a headlock and suffocate your fragile windpipes. a wave of heat, this one going right down to your core and forcing you to pay attention to it, shifting awkwardly and clenching the muscles in your own legs in hopes of getting some pitiful amount of pressure.

all breathing stops as he hits the back of your throat.

hands pulling tight, a biting pain ripping through your hair and a tired gag creeping out of your constricting throat, yunho holds you still and strong, as unmoving as the mountains that fill the horizon from your bedroom window.

he’s not even fully in, an arguably obscene amount of him still awaiting some form of attention beyond the spill of the spit filling up your mouth. but there’s nowhere for it to go, not within your mouth at least, and so you manoeuvre your hand up and grip the neglected inches, the tip of your pinkie teasingly brushing over the swell of his balls.

he lurches forward, gasping in a breath of air at last. “fucking christ- shit,” he grits his teeth. “her mouth’s warm.”

“well, obviously. this your first time getting a blowjob or something, jeong?” god, the reminder of seonghwa being here, somewhere behind you, fox eyes judging your every move and keeping his cool, no matter how hard you’d seen his cock straining in those ridiculous pant-suit trousers he sports. it’s sickening.

“yeah, yunho, watch out before you have a repeat of 2019.”

if the taller jeong wants to snap at the other, you never find out, instead dedicating yourself to the glory of worshipping him between your parted lips and tight throat, jaw ready to lock itself in place so long as it keeps him inside.

you treat him differently than you’d treated san that night. you’d been tipsy then, buzzing off the colourful shots of who-knows-what you’d been conned into downing a half hours before, mind hazy as you kneeled between him and teased your tongue over every crevice of him it could reach, dripping him in drool and working an ache into your overused tongue by the time you got watched him spill over the edge of ecstasy. that wasn’t even about san’s pleasure, no real care put into getting him off, your own selfish need to indulge in the pleasure of feeling, tasting, worshipping him taking precedence.

but, right now, you’re overwhelmingly sober, mind hazed only by a cloud of inexplicable lust that rolled in the moment san shot you his stupid smile, and you care about making jeong yunho cum. in fact, it’s the only thing on your mind as you bob your head up and down, letting his own hand guide your pace.

“shh, shh,” he’s hushing your own struggles for breath and carding his fingers through the tresses of your hair, his legs clamping down on either side of you, pinning you in your rightful place. “taking it so good, baby. so fucking good.”

good’s not good enough.

you want to leave him mind-blown, exhausted, unhinged. you want him clenching his jaw, and baring his teeth, and stuttering over any praise he tries to give you. in fact, you need it, need that thrill-driven lust of collapsing the sanity of a man as broad and strong and capable as him.

so you pick up the pace, fight against the steady up-and-down of his grip and try to take just that little bit more of him in your mouth and down your throat, till you’ve no doubt there’s a visible bulge of where he sits down your windpipe. you think back on what he said- i love it when a pretty thing like you gets all messy over my cock- and work towards doing just that, mouth a fountain of over-flowing spit that paints lines down your chin and over his heavy balls. the hand at his base lightly drags the tips of its nails over his burning skin and you physically feel the way his cock jumps in your mouth, head twitching as his hips involuntarily jolt forwards.

eyes as wide as a deer in headlights, you glance up to stare into his own, only to find they’re rolling back in his head, too caught up in the headiness of having your mouth on him to visually focus. it’s erotic, tracing your eyes over the protruding vein in his neck and the unrhythmic heaving of his chest- like every breath he pulls is a rare gift and a miracle- and the straining of his muscled thighs that hold back his urge to buck freely into your mouth, use you as nothing but a hole to get himself off with.

your free hand stakes claim over your own sexual frustration, nimble fingers rubbing tight, slow circles over your clit in an attempt to just ease that heat burning you from the inside out.

“she’s touching herself, jeong,” not even the irritating, grating voice of park seonghwa’s unwanted commentary can take away the kick you’re getting out of working this man into a frenzy. “are you just going to let her, without your permiss-”

“shut up, park,” yunho is wrecked, voice divulging so far from that loud, boyish charm into a dark, broken sort of gruffed out thing, echoing straight out of his chest. but, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t listen to the other man, doesn’t force his eyes open to glance down in a hazed daze to witness your pathetic attempts to work your fingers over yourself.

only, he doesn’t tell you to stop.

he just... watches. and then smiles, squeezes out what can only be described as a broken whine, and tilts his head back once more, relinquishing all control of his body over to you. the scene divulging into a chorus of mumbled words, fuck and please and yes becoming the only word yunho knows, the only three you hear.

only as he cums does jeong yunho regain that bit of self-control he’s lost, ripping your mouth off him- a stuttered mumble of i wanna paint that pretty face- and erupting in a mess of grunted moans, cock twitching in his palm as rope after rope of white, hot fluid shoots out of it. it’s messy, and disgusting, and sticky, marking the skin on your cheeks, nestling in your hair, dripping over your shut eyelashes.

the last drops land in your parted mouth as his grasp shakes and you regain the right to wrap your lips around his mushroomed tip.

lips stained in pearly white, cheeks and neck matching too. the throb of your neglected cunt, clenching itself around nothing but the mere thought of having jeong yunho stuff you full, break you in two and leave you spent.

the man in question is in a no better state, head thrown back and chest a heaving mess glistening with the shine of his own sweat. his mouth hangs open, near heaving in breaths of air and his hands, adopting a mind of their own, grip harder in your hair and hold you firmly in place, tongue laving over his sensitive tip, pushing him closer and closer to the ledge of overstimulation.

“fuck- uh, fucking look at you,” sweet voice, foul words. two fingers drag over your cheek, coating themselves in the sticky substance he’s painted you in. “drooling all over me.”

he’s right, you are drooling. down your chin, an uncomfortable damp coat covers your overheating skin as you continue to stretch your lips around his length, ready to rip another thigh-shuddering orgasm out of the man.

yunho grants you no such pleasure.

instead, a grip tugs back on your hair and, before you can feebly attempt to catch your fleeing breath, he’s pulling you up into his lap, straddling you across the well-defined muscles of his thigh. those big, capable hands he pushes himself through pools, and rivers, and all other bodies of water manipulate your limbs however he likes, a rag-doll free for him to toy with for as long as he sees fit.

“yun-” you don’t even manage to say his name properly, not when he grinds you down into his lap, smothering his tanned skin in your juices. the friction runs straight for your pulsing clit and you’re rendered to sinking into his welcoming arms, head collapsing into the crook of his neck, parted lips panting up a storm against his sweated skin.

“that nice for you, angel?” the soft words, the rough hands, the perfect roll of your hips. you feel like you could sob, break apart completely. yunho tracing a hand up the curve of your spine and soothing his long fingers over a knot in you back doesn’t help your case. “bet it is. little bit of release to all that tension you’ve been feeling, yeah?”

you think you nod.

it’s hard to tell.

sparks fly within your loins, heating you from the inside out. yunho, at some point, has wound his fist into the tresses of your hair, nails scrapping along your scalp. it’s pleasurable, all over, soothing you into a state of utter relaxation, a being with no purpose other than to take whatever this mass of warmth and muscles and width offers you.

his hand makes a fist and gently tugs, forcing a whine out of you as you’re faced with the bright lights once more. traces of his own cum stain the very place your face had lay. it’s erotic to see, drying up your tongue with a need to lick it clean.

“no, no, focus, right here,” a single finger taps at your cheek, followed by the tilting of your chin that forces you to stare back at the hungry eyes of jeong yunho. “eyes on me. want a front row seat to watching your eyes roll back.”

god, he’s filthy, and delicate, and that just makes him all that more filthy.

swiping his digits through the remnants of his sticky cum, he makes sure you’re staring right back at him as those same fingers snake their way down between your grinding bodies and burrow themselves deep in your soaked heat. shallow pumps of his hand fuck his cum-coated fingers deeper, long and lithe enough he barely needs to move to have you feeling him all over, everywhere.

by the time he curls them, pressing against that spongy wall, you’re just about ready to cry.

“think she’s gonna cum,” oh god, no, why must he remind you of your audience? why does it no longer frighten you to have eyes watching you be defiled but, rather, have you clenching around him tighter, chasing that fever-like ecstasy the man means to deliver? “she’s gripping my fingers so tight- shit, almost makes me wanna bust my load just thinking how warm her pussy would feel round my cock.”

“don’t let her cum,” you vow, some day, to wring the neck of park seonghwa. “just cause she’s gone all cockdrunk doesn’t mean she’s earnt-”

“shut up, hwa,” the boy’s thumb pokes up and you can’t help the way you grind down into it, smothering your clit in whatever pressure you can get. “pretty baby’s more than earned it. stop being bitter that i’m the one who’s gonna give her it.”

give you it, he does.

three fingers deep, the cocktail of your wetness mixing with his cum-cated digits aiding the ebb and flow of his rhythm, jeong yunho has your toes curling, eyes rolling, thighs shaking. you blackout, for only a moment, lost in the wilderness of pleasure.

the aftershocks are barely kicking in when you’re suddenly ripped away from yunho’s hold. the sounds of your beating heart and heaving chest muffle the disgruntled exchange of words between the swim-team, inhibiting your ability to stay clued-in on the events that surround you. all you know is that when your body meets the bench once more, on all wobbly fours, jeong yunho no longer sits tall and proud.

a sharp sting hits your rear- a smack, that echoes in the empty space of the swimming hall. the only appropriate response is the shriek you let out, twisted in your own conflicting emotions of pain, and pleasure, and painful pleasure. a second smack meets the other cheek. this time, there’s no doubt a wanton whine escapes you.

“since the rest of them can’t take orders,” you’d already known it was seonghwa whose hands were suddenly all over you, pinning you in a position of submission. the sound of his grandiose voice sends a shiver of anticipation down your spine, top to tail. “i’ll have to do it myself.”

with no word of warning, he smooths his hands down the globes of your ass, teases the crease of skin where your inner thigh meets your dripping heat, and fucks two whole fingers into your sensitive core. knuckles deep, they sit still upon initial intrusion, basking in the warmth of you and coating themselves in the essence from an orgasm you’ve yet to even fully recover from and the cum yunho’d scooped off your own face.

then, at last, when your nails dig marks into the wood below, he curls them a come-hither motion.

with shame painted on your skin, you toss your head back and release an inhumane cry, eyes hazily gazing up at the horrendous white lights above. “oh god!”

“not quite. i do appreciate the flattery though,” there’s no need to glance over your shoulder to know that pompous, trust-fund baby is wearing the most earth-shattering smirk, some stupid strand of his perfectly groomed hair dangling over one of his eyes, like some 90s heartthrob boy-band member. you do it anyway.

park seonghwa is an unfairly attractive man, sporting a beauty so ethereal it almost makes you angry.

that anger seems to dampen the wetter he gets you.

his touch is slow, but by no means is it gentle. calculated and malevolent, he plays with your insides like they’re nothing but the strings to your puppet. a curl of his fingers and one of your hands shoots forward. the torturously slow pace that he pumps his digits in and out, and your jaw falls slack. his thumb bumps and grinds against your throbbing clit, and your elbows give out, sending you crashing face-first down onto the bench.

his free hand presses down on your lower back, bending you deeper, hiking your ass up higher in the air. and, at first, you think you’re imagining it, that trickle of warmth against your other entrance, believing it nothing but a trick of your melting brain.

you’re who-knows how many hours deep in a whirlwind of pleasure and penetrative stares, people have been driven to the brink of insanity over far less in the past.

but then seonghwa’s fingers leave your cunt, warm and wet trails following their journey over your skin. there’s no imaginative mind great enough in this universe to conjure up that initial shock to feeling how he prods and pokes at your puckered hole, lubricating it with the dirty mixture of both you and yunho’s cum and his very own spit.

the tip of his pointer finger ventures onward first, breaking through the surface of your tight muscles in a shallow intrusion.

the feeling has you frozen, frightened, intrigued. eyes widening, moans dying, pussy pulsating in an empty need.

“don’t go getting shy on us now, spitfire,” the collective language he uses brings back the weight of all the boys’ eyes on you. hesitantly, you angle your face off the bench, and regret it the instant you meet the brown comfort of his eyes. “fun’s just starting. ain’t that right, san?”

a tense energy takes over the large room, with san’s shoulders tensing, and yunho’s feet fidgeting, and wooyoung’s cheeks blushing. seonghwa seems impervious to the shift, whether voluntarily or not, and instead invites himself to further exploring the limits of your body.

he’s kind enough to spare a bit of care into the way his finger sinks deeper into your unexplored hole. another dribble of his hot saliva lands messily onto you, aiding the slip and slide of his hand. two, or three, or four strokes of his finger and you’re submitting to the intrusion, hips rutting higher and presenting yourself more to the man.

“come here,” the command calls over your body and, at first, you think its aimed at you. so you try scooting further back, only to be halted by seonghwa speaking once again. “yeah you, choi. come get under her.”

for the first time since this all began, you’re on the precipice of saying no.

they’d listen, all of them. wouldn’t push you, pressure you or force you to keep going, not if you truly voiced your negation. even park seonghwa, as big an arsehole as he may be, would have no qualms ending his fun and agreeing to never speak of this again.

and it’s not that you don’t want choi san under you. far from it, as you’ve already made pretty clear earlier, thighs his personal ear-warmers while his tongue delved deep for your honey-suckle glory. you’re hardly uncomfortable at the thought of him under you, chest rising repeatedly in frantic breaths and legs bent at the knee to give him just the right leverage to fuck up into your messy cunt-

it’s not till he’s three feet away from you, hands fidgeting by his side, eyes looking anywhere but you and your compromising position, and the world’s most obnoxiously boner-strained tent in his swimming gear that realisation washes over you. you’re hesitating because of him, because of his possible discomfort.

what if he wants to say no? what if he doesn’t want to get under you? what if his eyes will never look into your own again, too shocked and disgusted by all the things you’ve let be done to you? by his own team-mates/rivals, too?

hell, you’ve shocked yourself even, never in a million years had you pictured a day you’d be at the mercy of some rich prick, overdressed for every occasion and looking like a vogue-cover-model reject. but when he’s edging another finger into the already-tight squeeze of your ass, and pushing your buttons just enough to nudge you towards an edge that never seems to arrive, how could you ever dream of being anywhere else?

a hand touches your cheek.

soft. tender. it takes the extra time to soothe the pads of its fingers against your burning cheek.

“you feeling okay?” san’s quiet tone, meant only for you, is enough to move you to near-tears. you crave his hug. the position you find yourself in only allows you to reach out and grasp at where his knee bends as he crouches down to your level. it’s all the same, san knows. san understands. his own hand lands on top of yours, messily threading digits.

“she’s literally stuffed with another man’s cum and you’re worried about her? well aren’t you just the sweetest.” a cheap remark from seonghwa.

san purposefully ignores it, and everything about the man, instead choosing to keep his focus on what matters.

you.

“think you could make some room for me down there?” your nose wrinkles at his choice of words.

his giggle echoes.

“no, no, not... like that,” he guides you as he talks, grip moving to your shoulders and coaxing you up into a seating position. somewhere along the way, seonghwa’s hands leave you. he doesn’t stray too far, however, and your back soon collides against his chest. “here, pretty. want you to make space for me down here.”

within seconds, choi san’s back in his rightful place: splayed out beneath you, body fit snug between your parted legs and hair an unruly, sweated mess against his forehead.

no clothing sits between you both, blessing you with the mouthwatering drag of his cock through your folds. hard, and red, and leaking at the tip, a slight curve to the right, dribbling precum against his well-toned stomach. you’re biting your lip before you fully register your own thoughts, body a mind of its own as you grind down onto him.

control is limited and fleeting, that of which seonghwa reminds you without uttering so much as a word. instead, he clamps a harsh grip down on either side of your hips, rucks you up to where he needs you and guides you down onto san’s cock.

it’s thick, imposing and something that seonghwa blesses you no time to ease into things. instead, you’re slammed down, san buried to the hilt inside of you.

“hey there,” delicate fingers skim up the tense muscles in your thigh and find pleasure in delivering a teasing tickle to your sides. “come here often?”

the cheeky grin, the double entendre, the way san looks so goddamn proud of himself for saying it. you can’t help it, you wind up giggling uncontrollably.

wrong choice. bad idea. danger zone.

san contorts in pain, and lust, and something else you’ve never seen behind his eyes before, hissing through his teeth like some feral cat. his eyes match that of a feline too. “you trying to squeeze my dick off or something?”

you compose yourself upon the reminder of that san can feel you tensing around him, pull in a deep breath and find your voice again, at last. “or... something.”

maybe you’re a little out of breath. maybe you’re a little hoarse. it doesn’t seem to matter to the boy below, his only response being to cant his hips up and lick at the fire burning in your insides.

“you two are disgusting,” once again, park seonghwa wins gold in the nobody-asked-for-you-bum-ass-opinion olympics. let’s see if he’ll continue his winning streak and go for gold in the hypocrite-athon too!

the hands on your sides begin you guide you, with seonghwa squeezing his perfectly manicured nails into your plush skin and bouncing you down onto san. up, down, up and down, repeated strokes like the ones their hands deliver each time they breach the surface.

it’s easy, this pleasure. it’s a gift, hand-delivered by two god-like men that sandwich you between them- one a mass that fills you, the other a weight that controls you. liberating in every sense, you can’t help the way your head rolls back to find purchase on one of seonghwa’s shoulders, completely melting into the ways he winds you over san.

“shit, yes, you feel,” san’s no better than you, mouth agape and hands unsteady as they trace every inch of skin they can reach: the dimples of your back, the swell of your breasts, the hood of your clit. his hips are the only steady thing about him, not a falter in the way they grind up to kiss your dripping pussy with his cock. “so good. so warm, tight. love it.”

a hand curls round your front, travels up between your breast and over your sternum. it settled for a grip a round your throat, no pressure applied, it simply exists against your windpipe, a silent threat.

“look what you do to him, hmm,” a squeeze around your neck. seonghwa’s warm breath fans against your ear, taunting you. “look what you’re doing to them.”

through your glossed-over gaze, you trail your way past the sight of san and all his captivating beauty, settling instead on the equally erotic, not-at-all surprising image that stands just past where his head rests at the edge of the wooden bench.

a sweaty wooyoung, bent at the waist and whining up a storm, while a far more composed yunho pounds his hips into the boy’s arse.

your walls clench and san whimpers, a string of curses and pleads leaving him.

“think you’re finally ready for me?” the devil on your shoulder- at your back, more truly,- smirks into your skin, careless enough to not even feign it being anything but a rhetoric question. ready or not, park seonghwa is going to finally get his own fill of the thrill, his own satisfaction, beyond mere observation and controlling.

the spill of your own wetness slips down your thighs as san continues to fuck himself deep. it doesn’t travel far as seonghwa coats himself in you, wetting his fingers before they slip back inside your ass. a few generous, tempting pumps into your ring of muscles, fingers spreading a little further apart each time, till he decides that’s enough, he’s ready, you’re ready.

the unbuckling of a belt.

an unzipping of trousers.

trousers bunched down muscled thighs.

the first cut may be the deepest, but you highly doubt it’s as deep as seonghwa feels feeding his cock into your arse, stretching you apart to make way for him. a part of you feels like it can’t breathe, impaled on both these men who sit so deep inside you, you fear you’ll feel the ghost of their touch for weeks to come.

but what does it matter, really, when seonghwa pulls you back against him and whispers filth against your ear?

this is all you’re good for. cock-drunk whore. gonna let us cum inside?

and san’s coaxing you down to trail his mouth over your chest, the tongue flicking over your nipple a terrible juxtapose to his crooning words?

taking it so well, baby. so tight, and perfect, and god. ‘s that what baby needs, huh, for me to touch her little clit?

the two men find a rhythm, a synchronised routine to how they pull and push you around. their thrusts ebb and flow, no moment existing where you sit empty. they treat your body like they treat the pool, swimming through your waves of pleasure and effortlessly advancing to the finishing line, the winning stroke. then, san’s hand meets your cheek and your thoughts are dragged underwater, muffling the sounds of everyone else- the shlickt sound that echoes with each inch of cock fucked into you, the high-pitched whimpers of a fucked out wooyoung, the slapping of skin against skin- as he pulls you in for a kiss.

it’s a hungry one, all teeth and tongue and swollen lips. you pull away more breathless than before and fighting back a big dopey grin, toes curling as the swell of one of their cocks hits a nice spot inside you, body too on fire to know just exactly where the new wave of heat is coming from.

“h-how d’you do it, hm?” it’s almost a whisper, something meant only for your ears, yet you hear him loud and clear, voice stuttering off in a mess of whines and moans. “still got that pretty-girl smile, even while getting fucked silly.”

it almost makes you shy, till you remember what you’re doing and who you’re doing it with. you settle for a quick, short answer. mostly because you fear you’re losing the ability to think in full-sentences, much less speak one out loud. “can multitask.”

like your own words are the key to pandora’s box, your eyes widen, and your mouth dries, and your heart reels as a new desire burrows itself somewhere between the parts of you owned by san and the parts owned by seonghwa. the desire makes room for more, for someone more, and, without much chance for second-thoughts or hesitation, you find what little stability you can manage with one hand pressing down onto san’s toned chest and reach forward with your free hand.

fingers, light as a feather, curl around wooyoung’s solid shaft. the man’s hips stutter at the unexpected contact, eyes flying open to glance down in time to watch you reach out your tongue, licking up the droplets of precum that threaten to spill from his mushroomed tip.

“please, god, please!” he’s beyond the point of sense, poor baby, struggling to keep up with yunho’s hips’ repeated slamming into his tight ass. so, you can’t really blame him or shame him for the way he hastily rips his hand through your hair, tugging your mouth as far down his cock as the angle allows.

a few hairs rip from your skull in his grip. you reward him with a pleasant hum, moans muffled with the mouth-full he’s providing you.

“shit- look at that,” seonghwa pipes up from behind you, the motion of his hips never faulting or failing as he continues to take part in the filthiest three-way tango known to man, hands bouncing you down to meet each raise of san’s hips, plundering the other man’s cock deep, deep, deep, till he’s kissing your cervix and you’re seeing stars before your eyes. “should cup youngie’s- fucking christ- his balls, san, cup ‘em.”

you’re vaguely aware of his compliance, hand lifting off whatever part of you it was touching- your nipple, your hip, your jaw, it’s hard to tell when you feel like san’s everywhere, all over you, part of you- to graze the set of well-groomed spheres that threaten to slap your chin each time wooyoung thrusts forward.

barely two seconds, hardly any pressure against them, and the youngest of the four is nearly in tears, wailing and begging over broken whines that it’s too much, can’t take it, don’t stop.

there’s a ringing in your ear. because everything is becoming too much: wooyoung in your mouth, san rutting up into you and seonghwa’s hands clawing and pulling your body back into each of his overpowered thrusts. the boy in front of you is the first to fall apart, twitching in your mouth and, without a warning, choking you on the cum he shoots down your throat. a hand pulls you back, just enough to paint your face in the final drops released from wooyoung.

one of the other men is next, a string of curses and grunts filling the air. there’s a new stickiness between your legs, gooey white staining your skin. it’s all building up, and up, and up, until you topple over and are sent reeling into wave after wave of blinding pressure, toes cramping up and muscles spasming as you shoot off into another astral field, creaming around san and chocking seonghwa’s cock.

you don’t register the release of your hips nor the crash-down of your body. one moment, you’re pressed back against seonghwa, mouth dropped open in a silent scream for merciless pleasure, and the next you’re cradled in san’s warm embrace, a crooning tone to the way he hushes and calms you, unheard i got yous, and did so good for us, babys, and just let me hold yous falling on deaf ears.

for a moment in your own history, time ceases to exist.

there’s no ticking of the large clock on the wall, reminding you of how long ago your shift had ended. there’s no thoughts of your plant friend drying out in the staleness of your room, desperately awaiting you to revive it with some h2o. there’s no consequences awaiting your actions, no shame to be feared and leaving you unable to look any of the four swimmers in the eye ever again.

instead of being crashed against choi san’s body, a mixture of his, yours, and several other people’s bodily fluids serving as the adhesive that keeps you stuck together in your mess, you’re floating in space, not quite alive but not quite dead, just there.

nerves tingling, body aching, mind switched off.

four, or five, or ten, maybe even fifteen minutes pass by the time you regain focus on your surroundings.

your name, whispered. it’s his voice that pulls you back, sweet and soft and oh so like the san you’re used to, the one that sends teasing winks your way when your eyes happen to meet his in class, and the one who has the prettiest notes you’ve ever seen, a colour-scheme for his every highlight and the cutest of doodles to go along with the topic on the paper.

the one who’s hand is currently brushing through your hair, fingers careful as they catch on the tangles near the split ends.

“hmm,” you swear you want to say his name, say more than that, but there’s an ache in your jaw that hinders you from even attempting, your voice-box likely having taken a beaten in the throws of your pleasured moans.

“you okay there?” he giggles over the end of the sentence, and you feel your slowing heartbeat stutter at the sound.

he feels you nod into the crook of his neck and lets his free hand find perch against your hip, moments before giving it a light squeeze.

he’s warm, and pleasant, and soft.

and moving you both into an up-right position, hands splaying flat against your back and keeping you secure against him, your legs wrapping around his slender waist. you drift off again, between time and space, and come to at the first drop of water that lands on your back.

one drop, two drops, and then a downpour of heat crashing onto both of you.

you can tell from the colour of the pinkish tiles along the communal shower floor that you’re in the women’s changing room, and mentally note to thank him, even if he’s not aware, for bringing you somewhere you won’t have to shamefully stumble out of in the nude, your change of clothes safely tucked away within one of the lockers.

“i’m gonna put you down now, okay?” he speaks so gently that it overwhelms you, answering him only with an affirmative nod of your head.

neither of you speak while he lathers shampoo into your hair, nor when he’s dragging his soap covered hands over the cum that stains your skin, wiping it away and leaving nothing but suds where the liquid once was. he doesn’t speak while covering your eyes with his hands, blocking the sting of the shampoo. you don’t speak when you inch closer, head falling forward to rest against his chest.

when he does eventually speak again, both of your fingertips are wrinkled and bodies are clean, the water of the shower serving as nothing but a way to keep warm.

“you’re, uh, not” the echo of his voice in the empty lockers feels so much more intimate than how his cries sounded by the pool. “doing anything on wednesday, right?”

too lazy to move, you angle your face to stare up at him from his chest and take a moment to just stare, look at the way his hair is sticking to his forehead, at the way his eyes are back to being wide, at the way the marks you’d littered along his neck are becoming more prominent.

“how’d you know?” your question confirms his own, and a tenseness you’d not noticed melts off of his shoulders.

“wednesday is race day. you never work race days.”

it’s such an odd detail to have noticed, and it’s making you question everything you thought you knew about your relationship with san. do acquaintances remember each other’s schedules? do acquaintances bring each other soothing teas when they notice the other developing flu symptoms? do acquaintances waste time pulling faces at each other in lectures they should probably be paying attention to.

“i’m not taking part in the race this time, by choice. my grades are good enough, don’t need to worry about winning some championship to keep my education.” san is speaking unpromptly at this point, rambling in a way you’ve only seen him do when he’s nervous, or excited, or both. “it’s okay if you don’t want to, or you have better things to do or places to be! but, i was just thinking, maybe you’d wanna spend some time with me? there’s this medieval market down on main-street, it’s meant to be really cool, and i just think it would be even cooler to go with you? but, again, you don’t have to. forget it, actually, i’m being stupid and assuming you’re not doing something with your friends or your-”

the kiss you interrupt him with is far more innocent than the one you shared earlier, no hands rushing to touch and tongues desperate to taste, just two sets of lips moving as one.

you pull back and he chases after you, lips landing another peck before you’re grasping his cheek in your hold and forcing him back.

“i think you could have asked me to come help clean your apartment for you and i’d still say yes, just to spend my day with you,” you say, and he smiles as if on instinct, unable to stop it even if he tried.

“really?”

“really.”

“good, cause i already bought us two tickets and i really didn’t wanna have to go alone.” there’s drops of water dancing on his eyelashes, and laziness in his every movement, and you’re both still very much naked, but none of that seems to matter when he gives you another peck, like he’s awakened an addiction and your lips are now his favourite vice. “but, now that you mention it, my apartment could do with some cleaning. and i bet you’d look amazing in a maid outfit.”

a slap echoes in the showers.

“hey! don’t worry, i’ll be wearing a matching one!”

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to-read-is-to-dream · 1 year ago

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Dulce Venganza 📕

Genre: smut Pairing: sub!jeongguk x softdom!reader Word Count: 2.5k Warnings: college!au, fratboy!jk, grinding, solo masturbation (m), hand job (m receiving), nipple sucking, vaginal penetration, cowgirl position, unprotected sex, jk cums inside oops, overstimulation, PUSSY WHIPPED JK, fluffy ending

*:･��✧*:･ﾟ

Attending a party held by the most popular fraternity was a one-way ticket to seeing everyone you despised, something you should’ve kept in mind before you found yourself getting holes burned into by your ex’s laser eyes across the room. You had done fairly well in minding your business all night, having gone to this party mainly for the drinks. This meant you hadn’t socialized much all night, most of your friends abandoning you for some mediocre dude upstairs.

All you were here for was to stand still by the drinks table and look pretty. You knew how to doll up, wearing a two-piece mini skirt with a matching crop top. It accentuated your body shape and showed your assets just right. Instead of working in your favor and attracting a good-looking guy to spend the night with, it seemed to work against you since your ex couldn’t seem to look away. Even while having his tongue shoved throat-deep into a girl, he still managed to maintain eye contact with you

You knew what his plan was, he wanted to make you as jealous as possible tonight. Unfortunately for him, you couldn’t care less about what he chose to do with his life anymore. Whatever he was doing was just pathetic at this point, desperately wanting to catch the attention of somebody who no longer found him on her list of priorities.

Even then, you couldn’t find it in you to ignore his petty attempt at making you mad. It was the least you could do to spice up the night. Although the show he put on with the girl on the dance floor didn’t upset you in the least, you were sure he would be affected if the roles were reversed. Two could play at that game, even if you secretly knew that this would ultimately be a poor excuse for hooking up with someone for the night.

You smirked to yourself while you scanned the crowd of bodies, needing to find someone who’d hit him right where it hurts, he deserved it after all. Your eyes immediately caught another pair, those of a person who’d make for a perfect target. Jeon Jeongguk.

Popular athlete, leader of the frat, host of the party and not to mention, attractive. The guy fulfilled all of the qualities your ex lacked and surely would make him weep like a little baby at night because you deserved better than him, which wouldn’t be a lie. You weren’t a nobody in your class, owning a fair share of popularity gave you a striking social life. Apart from your captivating personality, came the out-of-this-world beauty.

This was another reason you didn’t take time to second guess your plan, you knew any guy would feel rather accomplished to even breathe your air, let alone have a night with you. You had an unmatched ability to coin any man, even those like pretty boy Jeon. Undoubtedly the perfect woman, it’d make for a great achievement to boast about to the guys lining up at your feet for a chance.

So you began to strut towards Jeongguk, watching the smug smirk on his face grow as the distance between the two of you grew. “Eyed me long enough, usually they crawl over immediately after seeing me stare back. Almost thought I’d have to break the tradition and approach you first” He joked through the loud music.

“How sweet of you” You sneered, lightly hitting his chest with the back of your manicured hand before stretching it out towards him. “Wanna dance?”

“Thought you’d never ask” He smiled, taking your hand in his and letting you drag him to the dance floor. Pushing your way through the sea of sweaty bodies that reeked of alcohol, you were able to find a spot to dance with Jeongguk in.

Giving your ex a clear view, you pressed your back into the boy behind you, wrapping your arms around his neck and sensually moving your body against him. His hands lowered to your waist, taking a firm hold of it when he felt you begin to grind against him.

He lowered his head down to your ear, close enough to whisper so you could hear him easier over the blaring speakers. “Dude in front of us will not stop shooting daggers at me, babe”

You ceased your actions to turn around and face him, loosely snaking your hands around either side of his neck and cocking your head, “I know, ‘s why im doing this” You chuckled. He brought a hand up to his chest to feign offense, “So you’re telling me that pretty girl is using the Jeon Jeongguk to her advantage?”

“Don’t flatter yourself too much, are you gonna help me or not?” You asked, needing to know if he was still okay with this going forward. “Wanna see how upset he can get?” He smiled, eyes darting down to your plump, glossy lips. “Mmm, show me”

With that, he pressed his lips into yours, satisfied with how you immediately melted into the kiss. The taste of your cherry-flavored gloss overwhelmed his senses, almost forgetting what all of this was about. Similar to him, any thought of your original plan was out the window, solely focusing on basking in his sweet taste. Your lips moved in sync, molding together perfectly.

The two of you knew of each other but never took the chance to pay much attention. You were too focused on yourself to enter the dating world, as he was too busy with his sports to do the same. But this kiss, this kiss was enough to show the both of you what you had missed out on. It didn’t take much for the two of you to crave more.

The slight nibble on his lower lip had him rubbing his clothed length on you, causing you to pull him even closer to deepen the kiss. You slowly pulled away, desperate for air but not yet wanting to break the kiss. He looked so pretty above you, swollen lips and big doe eyes silently pleading to be kissed again. Just as he was about to lean in again, you pressed a finger to his lips, “Not here.”

He cocked a brow in confusion, following you upstairs into an empty bedroom nevertheless. You were quick to continue the kiss, swiftly locking the door and pushing his back into it. You swirled your tongue around his, swallowing the breathy moans he let out. Your leg came up in between his own, firmly propping it against his crotch as he began to grind down on it.

The feel of his hard-on made your stomach flip and you suddenly found yourself asking Jeongguk permission to remove his shirt to which he agreed. Immense pleasure shot through him as his tip rubbed against your thigh, rapidly bringing him down from the short high he was on.

“W-wait Y/n..” He pulled back, “He isn’t here anymore” his puzzled look made you snicker at his oblivion. “What, did you want an audience?” You asked, watching his chest heave up and down at the feel of your leg still pressed against him. You cupped his cheek, lifting his gaze towards you, “This stopped being about him as soon as you kissed me” You inched your knee higher, “But we can stop if this is outside of your intentions.” your finger grazed his cheek affectionately, watching him melt into your touch.

“No! I mean… No, it’s alright..” He confirmed, brushing the stray hairs out of your beautiful face. Fighting the urge to kiss him, you focused on getting comfortable. “Go sit on the bed and take your pants off, baby” You pressed a kiss to his cheek before letting him go on to follow your instruction, watching him sit against the headboard and quickly remove his pants along with his Calvin Klein boxers.

His pretty cock sprung out, thick veins leading to the swollen red tip that grazed his lower belly. You walked towards the foot of the bed, helping you get a more direct view of Jeongguk’s figure. “Want you to touch yourself for me, yea?” You asked, smiling at the compliant nod you received. You began to unzip the back of your corset-like top, letting it fall to the floor exposing your perky tits.

Content with Jeongguks reaction, who eyed you down with his bottom lip caught in his teeth while he gave a light squeeze to his length, you began to slowly slide your skirt down. You made sure to wiggle your hips a bit, adding to the show you were putting on for him. Once your skirt was fully discarded, you pulled down the skimpy pair of red laced panties you’d purposely worn for tonight, not knowing that the boy who’d be lucky enough to see them would be Jeongguk.

You walked over to the side of the bed as he followed you with his eyes, watching you climb the bed and sit on his lap, close enough to his cock that he could almost feel the heat radiating from your core. He instinctively bucked his hips up, searching for your touch after he let his hand fall to his side. “Eager baby?” You asked before he mumbled a quiet “Yes.”

Your hand came down to his cock, using the thick glob of precum that had gathered on his tip to easily glide your hand up and down his shaft. He threw his head back at the way your hand worked around him, pressing your fingers into his weak spots like you’d done this with him before. “Right the-ahh” You ripped a whiny moan from his mouth by brushing your fingers under the head of his cock, showing you he no longer cared about who could hear him, if they even could.

Unable to keep his hands to himself at this point, he brought one down to grip the side of your hip, while the other trailed up to cup your breast. He rubbed the hardened bud, making your hand fasten its pace on his cock. “Wan’ you” He looked up at you with glossy eyes, never breaking eye contact as he leaned down to latch his wet tongue onto your nipple, swirling his wet tongue around your soft skin.

You sucked air through your teeth at the sensation, bringing your free hand to run your fingers through his wavy locks while you stared in admiration at the state you had him in. So compliant and malleable under you, ready to pleasure you at any moment yet so needy for the bliss of his own. “Just like that Gukkie..”

A combination of your moans and the sound of your hand tugging on his cock filled the room as he progressively began to leak more, a sign that he would come soon. His breaths became arrhythmic while his chest pressed flush against yours, hearing him become more vocal by the second.

As much as you’d like to watch him whine around your tits while he came undone beneath you, your core was aching for his thick cock to fill you up. “Uh uh,” you tutted, ripping your hand away from him and chuckling at his protesting mewls, “Inside” You caught his lips in your mouth, slowly using your hand to guide his cock. You hovered above him, allowing your arousal to drip down his shaft. “Ride me, y/n, p-please” He choked out, not needing to say more before you sharply sunk down on his cock.

He felt his breath hitch in his throat and limbs turn into jelly as his cock entered your plush walls, growing slightly dizzy at the feel of your immense wetness coating his shaft. Due to contrary belief, he wasn’t too much of a ladies man. Being too immersed in his studies and sports, he only had time for a casual hookup every once in a while. Despite his lack of exposure to women, he swore that it couldn’t get better than you. The way you so pleasantly sucked his cock into your tight pussy had him seeing stars, leaving him an incoherent mess of babbles underneath you.

As for you, the stretch his girthy cock had offered you was unmatched. The position you were in had his tip grazing your G-spot every time you bounced on his length. You had set a gentle pace, not wanting to make Jeongguk cum before you could do it together. Your stomach was already feeling hot and tight for sure, but at the same time, you wanted to see how much Jeongguk could take.

At this point, he wouldn’t be able to hold on for much longer before he suddenly bucked his hips up, earning a moan-gasp mixed with both pleasure and surprise. “Can’t s-stop.” He feverishly moved against you, causing your hands to land on his shoulders for balance purposes.

The headboard rocked against the wall while you attempted to sputter a “Keep going, be a good boy and make me cum” as his cock continue to drill into your insides. “Feel so good” He cried out, screwing his eyes shut as he felt his seed eager to spill into you. “L-love your pussy.. Love how you feel a-around me, could do this for hours” He whimpered, fucked so out of his mind that the only thing he could think of was your cunt and nothing else. “Yea?” you breathed out, “Gonna make me cum around your cock? You asked.

“F-fuck mhmm, gonna-” He threw his head back, unable to even keep talking. “Look at you baby, can’t even form a sentence. Do your friends know what a whore you are in bed?” You grabbed his chin to raise his face to yours, “Cum with me.” And with that, he was pumping his load deep into your pussy while it mixed with your own essence, making the fluids messily run down his balls and thighs.

It still wasn’t enough for him to halt his movements, feeling like he couldn’t get enough of you. Even through stuttering hips, he continued to pound his cock into your sensitive cunt. It wasn’t until you tapped his bicep to let him know that the pleasure was fading into pain, that he finally came back to his senses and slowed his thrusts until coming to a full stop.

You let your weak body fall on top of his, feeling his big arms wrap around you while he gently pulled out his cock. The two of you took your time to come down from your highs, needing to catch your breath for a minute. He was still feeling the aftershocks of overstimulating himself while trying to recover from the trance you had put him under. Your fingers soothingly rubbed circles on his skin, whispering a light “You okay?” against him. He hummed in response and held you tighter, before feeling your body vibrate on top of him as you broke out in giggles.

“What?” He smiled, watching you lift up your head to face him. “Nothing, just didn’t expect you to go all pussy-drunk on me” You leaned down to kiss his rosy-tinted cheeks. “What can I say, takes a special one to unlock that side of me.” He grinned, showing his bunny teeth even after you had wrecked him. “How flattering.” You leaned back down to lay your head on his chest, wanting to spend some time with him before the night ended.

Even if the two of you knew this wouldn’t be the last of it.

A/N: wake up babe cherigu posted

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to-read-is-to-dream · 1 year ago

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sharing = caring

snippets of chan sharing you with each of his boys for the first time

pairings: skz x afab!reader

warnings: smut!!!!🔞 multiple partners, threesomes, unprotected sex, protected sex, daddy kink, exhibitionism, smidges of mxm but nothing too serious, oral (f & m receiving), wet and messy, finger sucking, gagging, little bit of spit play, cum swallowing, light degradation, phone sex, slight voyeurism, pussy jobs, mutual masturbation, pet play, hair pulling, loss of virginity, spanking, whole lotta tags for a whole lotta boys!

notes: well.... i did it! inspired by chan's section in this post of mine since literally one singular person asked for it. this is just straight up NASTY.. you're welcome?? or sorry?? idk but anyways im abt to post this and then dip so i can sleep. pls enjoy!!! <3

chan

“baby, tell me,” he whispers into your cheek. you’re on your back and he’s on his side facing you, a strong thigh thrown over yours that’s closest to him. he’s had his hand in your panties for the past thirty minutes, and it’s got your brain leaking out of your ears. “here, let’s take these off, yeah?”

he sits up, his hand finally leaves your panties so that he can drag them down your hips and have you kick them off with your foot. chan settles back down beside you, propping his head up on his palm and bringing his other hand back to your cunt to play.

you’re so worked up you could cry. you could scream, but it’s your own doing. you know all you have to do is tell your boyfriend what’s on your mind. he tells you just that.

chan leans down to kiss your neck before murmuring against your skin.

“all you have to do is tell me, love. i want to give it to you, hm?” you slowly nod your head and wrap your hand around his forearm. when you turn to look at him, he meets you halfway for a kiss. it’s sweet, nothing more than a press of your lips together, but yours are quick to drop open in a yelp when chan pinches your clit between his fingers. chan takes this opportunity to lick into your mouth and does his best to swallow the noises you can’t seem to stop making.

he can tell you’re about to cum when you start to hump his hand, thighs shaking. chan smiles against your lips and gets you there, but right before you can tumble over the edge he removes his hand and trails it up your stomach to circle your belly button gently. the whine that leaves your mouth is pathetic, desperate, and you can’t help but bring your own fingers to your pussy to pick up where he left off. chan is quick to grab your hand and pin it to your side, dropping a swift smack to your cunt in retaliation that makes you cry out.

“this is mine.” his fingers wrap themselves around your neck. “that pussy is mine, and i’ll play with it how i see fit.” you’re nodding your head along with his words because of course, you know it’s his.

“that’s right sweetheart. you want me to make you cum?” another nod from you. “why don’t you tell me what’s got that pretty head all dizzy then, yeah? daddy wants to give it to you, baby. i want you to have it.”

you do tear up this time, and chan smiles at you, dimples showing. “my crybaby. how can channie help? what if i touch your little clit again, would that make it better?” he asks.

“y-yes, channie, daddy,” you whine. his hand once again travels down to your pussy, and your hips arch into him to welcome them back home. so fuckin’ precious, he says.

chan kept his end of the bargain, so you know it’s time to keep yours, despite how nervous you are about admitting it out loud. you doubt your sweet boyfriend would think any different of you for this, but still.

“want, ah, want you an’ your friends to fuck me, channie,” you whisper. “‘m so good for you, i am, jus’ want everyone to know.”

chan thinks he’s about to pass out. no way did you just say what he thinks you said, what he hopes you said. he’s fantasized about that for months, sharing you with the rest of stray kids, but was too ashamed and embarrassed to ever admit it out loud to you. then again, he thought, you had always been the brave one out of the two of you.

“oh honey,” chan coos, “you’re right, you’re so good for me. you’re so wonderful, you want ‘em to see how sweet this pussy is? how good you treat me?”

he doesn’t let you answer before he’s pulling you into his chest and making you cum so hard you’re out cold the second your head hits the pillow.

this is how it starts.

minho

chan had texted you earlier, a short and simple me and minho need your help haha. you weren’t sure if it would lead to what you were hoping it would lead to, but god were you crossing your fingers. the second chan let you into the dance practice room, he locked the door behind you. you stopped in your tracks and raised your eyebrows at him, searching for some sort of hint to clue you into what was going on. your boyfriend cocks his head towards minho, who’s sitting on the leather couch and fiddling with his phone with a scowl on his face.

you let out a quiet ahh and shoot chan a thumbs up. he responds with that squeaky laugh you love so much and gently pulls you in by the back of your head, wrapping his arm around it and guiding your face to his neck so you can hug him.

“the second you say stop, we stop, ‘kay?” chan asks into your ear.

“yes!” you say, excited, now bouncing on the balls of your feet and nearly headbutting him in the chin. you kiss him once and pull away, smiling. out of the corner of your eye you see minho lock his phone and place it face down on the couch, focusing his attention on you and chan.

the next thing you know, you’re half naked on the couch. minho has your ass pulled to the edge so that he can have easier access to your drooly cunt on display for him, your panties dangling from one foot. he’s kneeling in between your spread legs. chan’s sitting on the cushion beside you, content for now to let minho explore your body for the first time. he’s holding your hand and rubbing slow circles on it with his thumb.

your head is thrown back against the backrest of the couch as minho is nipping at your thighs, startling moans out of you when he decides he wants to bite down harder.

“show him your tits, baby,” chan tells you, squeezing your hand once. you comply immediately, using your unoccupied hand to pull the hem of your t-shirt up above your tits, and you wiggle when you look down to see minho’s dark eyes roaming your chest.

“mm,” minho hums, “pretty. pretty body. can i kiss you here?” he asks, eyes flicking down to your cunt. you nod your head but are quick to glance over at your boyfriend. chan doesn’t say anything, but he does grab you under your knee and pull it up towards him so that minho has an even better view of you. minho hisses under his breath when it opens you up more for him, pussy lips parting and cute little clit peeking out to greet him.

you all three let out a noise when minho gets his mouth on you, and you’re quick to bring the hem of your shirt to your mouth to bite down on it.

you’ve always known lee minho was gorgeous, but the way he closes his eyes when he tastes you has you reeling. his long eyelashes flutter against his cheek before he opens his eyes again. you think it’s cute how red his ears are, and you bring a hand down to rub at one of them and he sighs into you.

you’re honestly surprised your boyfriend has been sitting still for this long. he hasn’t moved to touch himself once, despite how hard you can see his dick is straining through his athletic shorts. he looks antsy though, and you don’t want that.

“baby, channie, what is it?” you ask, fighting hard to make your words steady while minho continues to fuck you with his tongue.

“fuck,” chan grunts. “fuck, i want a fucking taste.” before you know it, chan’s on his knees beside minho, once again pushing your knee to your chest, and minho copies his movement with your other leg. minho shuffles over on his knees to give chan more room, and your breath stutters in your throat when their tongues touch you at the same time.

you couldn’t look away if you tried, your eyes are locked on the way minho and chan’s tongues lave over your cunt at the same time. one of chan’s hands comes up to cup your breast, and you rest your hand over his, squeezing it.

the noises are filthy, even more so with the acoustics of the practice room. you can’t tune anything out. not the way your pussy is soaking their faces, the hungry noises both boys are making, or the way you’re almost squealing. your noises raise in pitch once you see how their tongues are batting against each other and rubbing over your clit, and you’re cumming before you get the chance to warn them. your back arches almost painfully, hips bucking so wildly that chan and minho both have to hold you down.

you reckon you damn near pass out because when you come to, you’re nestled against chan’s chest and minho’s head is resting on your shoulder; he’s playing with your fingers.

“morning, sunshine!” chan jokes, and he laughs when you groan. you open your bleary eyes and take in your surroundings, relaxing further against chan and minho.

“minho?” you ask, and he hums to show you he’s listening. “why are you wearing different pants?”

“because i came in my other ones, why else?”

changbin

“holy fuck, that’s good,” changbin grunts, reclining himself further into the computer chair in chan’s studio. his legs scramble to give you more room where you’re settled sweetly between them.

chan sits on the couch, relaxing into the corner while he palms himself over his shorts.

you pull off of changbin’s cock and stroke him in your fist. you spread your legs so that you can settle closer to the ground and smile against the underside of changbin’s cock, figuring it turns him on to loom over you like that. changbin growls, and you’re still smiling when you travel lower to suck on his balls, humming in your throat.

changbin’s head smacks against the headrest of the chair when you suck his cock into your mouth again.

“can i- ah, please, your mouth feels so good,” changbin whines. he wants to fuck your face, you can tell by the way his hips stutter, but he stops himself because you haven’t told him he could. mhm, you hum, and changbin’s quick to lift his hips to see how much you can take.

if you can deepthroat bang christopher chan, you figure changbin will be no problem.

“gag on it,” changbin murmurs, hands gripping the arms of the chair. you do, pushing yourself all the way down on his cock and holding yourself there. changbin lets out a cry when you look up at him through your teary eyes, and his hand cups your cheek so that he can wipe a tear away with his thumb when it falls. you move your head slightly, ignoring the discomfort on your nose when it rubs against his trimmed pubic hair.

you finally hear chan make a noise when changbin starts to fuck your face in earnest. the wet sounds your throat is making carries throughout the small studio, your face a mess of tears, snot, and drool. you’re thankful changbin’s chair is pushed back against the desk because otherwise it would be rolling across the floor from how hard he’s fucking into your mouth.

“fuuuck, like that. just like that. fuck, can you spit on it?” you pull off of changbin’s cock, a thick string of spit connecting your mouth to his dick when you pull away for a breath.

“mm, yeah,” you say, moving your tongue around in your mouth. chan sits up from his spot on the couch and scoots closer to you.

“here,” he says, leaning up and turning your head towards him. chan shoves two of his thick fingers in your mouth, fucking them in and out. you whine, gagging slightly on his fingers, body lurching as chan continues fucking your mouth with his fingers. he goes to pull them out, but you’re not done with him. you grab onto his wrist and suck harshly on his fingers, batting your eyelashes at him.

“little fucking slut,” chan grunts, “open your mouth.” you do as he says, and he fucks your mouth again, gagging you on his fingers over and over. spit is cascading down his hand and forearm, and he tsks at you. your mouth is still open, thick saliva collecting in the back of your mouth, and chan leans forward one more time to add his own spit to the mix. he turns you back towards changbin.

changbin has been watching the whole scene with his jaw dropped, hand working furiously on his cock, but not enough to make him cum. he wants you to do that.

he holds his cock out for you as you settle back comfortably between his legs. your hand joins his on his cock, and you let the collected spit pour out of your mouth so that it seeps down his cock. your hands catch most of it, and you use it to pump his messy cock. changbin’s pants are soiled at this point, but that’s the last thing on his mind. your hair keeps getting caught in the mess and you’re growing frustrated with having to repeatedly tuck it behind your ears. you’re a little miffed you forgot a hair band before you left your place. of course sweet changbin notices, and he uses both of his hands to keep your hair from your face.

you hear chan lean up from his spot on the couch again, and he collects your hair in his hands and holds it back for both of you.

“‘s it good bin?” chan asks, looking up at his friend.

“holy shit, you’re crazy. it’s so fucking good, so fucking good,” changbin laughs in disbelief. chan uses his hold on your hair to move your head up and down on changbin’s cock. he holds you down on it when he sees fit, moving you how he wants, toying with you and changbin both. it’s all too much, so you can’t help but start to touch yourself.

chan catches on quickly, but changbin’s too busy looking wide-eyed at the ceiling to notice.

“bin, look. isn’t that cute?” chan asks. your whimper is muffled by changbin’s thick cock.

“oh my god, are you touching yourself, baby?” changbin whines, chest heaving. “that’ll make me cum. keep touching your pussy for us and i’ll cum in your mouth.”

as you start to hump your hand, chan tightens his grip on your hair and forces your nose to changbin’s skin. when you cum you grasp onto changbin’s leg with your other hand, and the way your throat constricts pushes changbin over the edge with you.

hyunjin

“hyung it’s so wet, so wet, i can’t,” hyunjin cries. you giggle at that, and hyunjin huffs out a laugh too.

he hasn’t fucked you yet, but this is good. hyunjin has been grinding his long, pretty cock against your pussy for the better part of fifteen minutes. “yeah, ‘m wet for you hyune~” you croon.

hyunjin’s thighs shake where they’re pressed tight against the backs of yours.

chan breathes a curse through the speaker of your phone. you hated that he had to leave to check on something at the company, but you figured hyunjin would be fun to play with by yourself. despite not being present in the room, you still wanted chan involved somehow, but it was hyunjin who suggested calling him up.

“how does hyunjinnie feel, baby?” chan asks, and you give yourself a couple of seconds to collect your thoughts.

“channie, he feels so good on me,” you tell him, voice lilting in a sultry way to drive your boyfriend and his friend crazy. “his cock is so fucking big.” you wail when the head of his cock catches on your clit.

you hear chan say something along the lines of my sweetheart loves a big cock, huh? but you’re too busy crying out over the way hyunjin grabs his dick and shakes the head of it against your clit to be certain. your hips spasm, and hyunjin leans more of his weight forward to cage you against the bed.

hyunjin plants his hands on either side of your head and ruts his hips down faster, jolting your body up the bed.

“pussy. so. fucking. warm. so wet, smells so sweet,” hyunjin punctuates his words with fluid thrusts against you.

you cup your hand over the top of his cock so that it presses him harder against your pussy, and that makes you both moan. hyunjin leans down to kiss at your chest. he sucks kisses onto the underside of your breast and pops your nipple into his mouth, making you keen. his deft fingers softly tap at your other nipple, faintly tracing around it with the tip of his finger to feel it pebble up and harden under his touch.

“what’s got my baby making such pretty noises, huh? you have to tell me since i can’t see you. i have to know what to touch my cock to.” you cry out chan’s name, and hyunjin lets out a soft noise as well.

“channie he’s- he’s rubbing his cock on my pussy. it’s so hard, feels so good… an’ he’s playing with my- with my nipples too, baby, ah!” you cry out as hyunjin bites down gently on your nipple.

“hyung, channie hyung, my thighs are soaked. it’s so slippery, ‘s dripping. shit! how do you do this? it’s so good i’m gonna die…” hyunjin’s sentence trails off as he fucks his cock against your pussy faster, movements sharper as he gets closer to his release.

“fuck, i know, hyunjin-ah. sweetest pussy ever, isn’t it?” chan says through the phone. if you listen close enough you think you can hear the slick noises of him jerking his cock.

“hy-hyunjinnie,” you mewl, “c’n you, can you put it in, please? just the tip, please, just the tip! that’s all i need, i just wanna cum. i wanna cum on your cock.” hyunjin cries out and his arms shake.

“hyung, can i please?” he almost sounds close to tears. hyunjin bites his lip and hangs his head, silky black hair brushing against your chest.

“you’ve got my baby begging, hyune, go ahead, it’s alright.” chan answers, voice tinny through the phone’s speaker.

you’re whispering pleasepleasepleaseplease as hyunjin takes hold of his cock and guides it to your hole. he does as promised, fucking the tip in, and you both look at each other with mouths wide open. hyunjin re-positions himself so that his thighs aren’t pressing yours to your chest anymore, now there’s a little more room between the two of you. he takes both of your ankles in one of his big hands and pushes your legs back to your chest, the other hand occupied with holding the base of his cock.

hyunjin slowly rolls his hips forward, grinding inside you repeatedly with the tip of his big cock. you’re so wet that you start squelching when he fucks in, and as hyunjin whimpers at the noise you throw your arm over your eyes to hide.

“nonono, look at me, please don’t hide. you’re so beautiful, you feel perfect,” hyunjin tells you. “will you cum? can i make you cum?”

“baby, touch yourself for us, let hyunjinnie see your pretty face when you cum on him,” chan says. he’s breathless. you follow his instructions, looking at hyunjin through your eyelashes and rubbing your clit in small little circles. it catches up to you quickly, your face scrunches up as you hit your high, pussy clenching around the head of hyunjin’s cock.

“oh! oh, keep clenching on me. please, yes, keep cumming!” hyunjin cries, fist jerking the part of his cock that isn’t snug inside you. that’s enough to push him over the edge, he rushes to take his cock out and he cums in streaks all over your stomach. you smile sleepily at him as you pick up some with the tips of your fingers and bring it to your mouth.

“don’t fucking go anywhere,” chan growls. you had almost forgot he was on the line. “i’m coming home right now.”

jisung

you’re putting on the best show of your life, you think, as you sit in the computer chair in chan’s studio while him and jisung lounge on the couch. chan’s already got a hand down his pants, but jisung is holding onto the spotify pillow tightly, covering his lap with it.

you smirk at your boyfriend and trail your eyes to jisung, making sure to spread your legs wider for him to see. you settle both of your legs over the arms of the chair. you notice jisung’s eyes widen, but he still doesn’t move to touch himself, and that has you pouting.

“come on, hannie, don’t you want to play with me?” you ask, cocking your head as your fingers begin to pinch your own nipples before the real fun begins.

you see jisung gulp, and you’d laugh if it weren’t so cute.

“you wanna watch me touch myself?” you ask him, pulling at a nipple and watching him watch your breast jiggle with the movement.

“baby don’t tease, be nice.” comes chan’s response.

“‘m always nice, see?” you say back. you roll your neck and your fingers inch to your pussy. you form a vee with your fingers and spread yourself open for them. you let them look their fill for a moment and then start to rub your clit when you deem necessary. “i’m so nice, aren’t i hannie?”

“yeah, sooo nice, so nice, yeah,” jisung replies with a cough, eyes fixed on your fingers that are coated with your slick. he finally removes the pillow from his lap and reaches a hand under the band of his sweatpants to touch himself.

“take out your cocks, pleeease.” it’s more of a command if your tone has anything to do with it, but since you’re being nice you tacked on a please at the end for good measure. chan readily complies, always prepared to get his dick out for you, but jisung pulls at the drawstring of his sweats and hesitates.

“please hannie? i’ve seen that one before,” you wave a passive hand at chan. “can i see yours?” you ignore chan’s squawk of hey! you happen to love this one, brat! to bat your eyelashes at jisung.

jisung laughs, which is what you wanted him to do, and finally loosens the drawstring and shimmies his pants down a little bit so you can see him.

“mmm,” you hum. “yes, good. touch it for me.” his cock is almost purple at the head. it looks like you worked him up even more than you thought. good.

sure you were putting on a show, acting out a little bit, but it was easy to start touching yourself genuinely with two of the most beautiful men you’d ever seen in your life sitting in front of you jerking their cocks. to you, to your body. you’re soaking wet. thankfully chan had the forethought to lay his discarded jacket in the chair you’re sitting on before you started your little magic act.

your fingers dip into your entrance, and it makes your hips jolt. ooh! you say.

“you wanna taste, jisungie?” you ask. jisung stares wordlessly at where your fingers are disappearing into yourself. you kick your foot out to get his attention. “i saaaid, you wanna taste?” he wastes no time in nodding.

you pull your fingers from yourself and sit up in the chair, the wetness sticking uncomfortably under you. you have to bite your bottom lip to stop the smile spreading across your face when jisung nearly goes cross-eyed as you bring your fingers to his lips.

you mouth the words ‘say ahh’ and jisung listens instantly. he opens his mouth for you, and you’re quick to acquaint your fingers with his tongue. he closes his lips and his eyes shut with them, gently sucking on your fingers and swirling his tongue around the digits. you thrust your fingers slowly in and out and let out a breathless moan when jisung bobs his head to meet your fingers.

chan’s still touching himself all the while.

“oh, channie my love, i’m not being fair am i?” you ask. looking chan in the eyes, you lean back in your seat again to repeat the process. you fuck yourself on your fingers until your wetness is seeping down your knuckles and sit up once again to feed them to chan. chan meets your fingers with his tongue already out of his mouth, waiting patiently. when chan is done sucking your essence from your fingers, he presses a sweet kiss against your palm.

“get on your fucking knees, i wanna cum in that mouth,” chan commands. you’re quick to follow his orders, but not before jisung snags the jacket from your chair and places it on the ground so you can rest your knees on it. chan stands up from his spot on the couch and begins jerking his cock over your face.

jisung’s still touching himself watching the scene of you and chan before him, but you want him closer. you tug on the fabric of his pants as encouragement for him to stand up too. he gets the hint and stands up beside chan, stripping his cock over you as well.

“fuck, i can’t, can i see your tongue?” jisung asks, voice pitching on a whine. you loll your tongue out of your mouth in answer, mouth open and waiting. “wanna cum on it, can i? can i please?”

you raise yourself on your knees so that you can lick the head of his cock, then lick chan’s, then jisung’s again.

“please cum in my mouth?” you mewl to the both of them. “i’ll be good and swallow it all.”

felix

when he got to the chicken breast and protein powder dorm he assumed everyone was out. he left a pair of headphones in chan’s room the last time he was over and wanted them back. he was quickly proven incorrect when he opened the door of chan’s room to see you kneeling by the bed in just your underwear and chan sitting on the edge of it. the lights are off, but chan has his desk lamp on and the led lights on his wall are shining pink and purple.

you rush to pull your mouth off of your boyfriend, and chan leans forward to block the view of your chest as best as he can.

“well d’you want to...stay?” chan offers after a tense moment of silence. felix stands in the doorway of his hyung’s room, mouth slack, as he watches the scene in front of him. he shakes his head, almost as if that will help him clear it.

“is that- i mean- are you.....sure?” felix starts, sentence breaking off toward the end. you quickly nod your head, leaning back from chan and exposing your chest. minx. he’s been growing hard in his pants since he opened the damn door, but now his cock has really taken an interest.

“yeah mate, we kind of… talk about it? but only if you want to, yeah?” chan responds. felix nods shakily, taking a step into the room and closing the door. “yeah... okay, yes. fuck, please?”

chan smiles and scoots back to the head of the bed, guiding your hand with him until you’re between his legs, back pressed to his chest. you’re shyly keeping your legs closed, but chan tuts at you. a soft let him see you leaving his pretty lips. next thing you know, chan’s strong hands are prying your thighs open slowly and giving felix a clear view of your soaked panties. you hide your face in his neck as his hand crawls back up your thigh to cup where you’re leaking. “come ‘ere, lix,” chan murmurs.

felix takes a step closer to the bed, eyes glued to chan’s fingers running over the fabric of your panties. he hears a sweet sound leave your lips and chan coos. “why don’t you ask him, honey.”

“mm, felix,” you cry as chan’s fingers find their way under the waistband. “can you- can you take my panties off, please?”

“oh fuck,” he groans. he climbs onto the bed and situates himself between yours and chan’s spread legs. he looks between you and chan again for confirmation, chan nodding his head and your quiet pleas spur him on.

felix reaches forward and gently guides your panties down your thighs. he whimpers softly when he finally sees you bare and his head lolls back when the smell of your arousal reaches his nose.

“you have to tell me- i don’t know what you like. please show me.” felix tells you as he lowers himself to his stomach. chan pulls you further against him, drawing your legs back to your chest.

at the first press of felix’s tongue against you, you keen. your back arches against your boyfriend’s chest when felix’s tongue flicks softly on your clit.

he dips his tongue into your hole and looks up just in time to see chan pull you into a dirty kiss. he can’t help but wonder what it would feel like to be in the middle of that kiss, reasoning that he’ll hold onto that thought and figure out what it means later.

felix laves his tongue against you, quickly seeking out your swollen clit again and wrapping his lips around it, pressing quick sucking kisses against it.

“lix! just like that, please!” you cry at the same time chan coos out “ohh, my baby likes that.” he sucks at you harder, eyebrows furrowing as he keeps his pace in order to make you cum. he moans as he feels a hand grip his hair and press him closer to you. he’s expecting it to be yours, but he looks up to find both of your hands occupied with your own chest.

felix pulls away slightly as chan’s other hand travels down to your pussy. he doesn’t think twice before he brings the older man’s fingers to his mouth and wraps his tongue around them. chan hums and pulls his fingers free. he brings them to your clit, rubbing in quick circles. felix takes that as his cue to wiggle his tongue back into your hole, pressing in and out and licking over what chan’s fingers aren’t covering. your hips jolt everytime chan’s fingers and felix’s tongue play with your clit at the same time.

“oh fuck, oh fuck!” you cry as your thighs begin to tremble. “‘m gonna cum. please let me cum, please?”

seungmin

“do i even want to know why you have a leash here?”

“it’s a little late for that, seungminnie, isn’t it? considering you’re wearing it? and why do you have a collar?” chan harmlessly snarks back, and seungmin laughs.

you’d laugh too if you weren’t too busy getting pounded by seungmin’s long cock.

you’re on your back; seungmin’s holding your legs up by the pits of your knees. you’ve got the end of the leash wrapped in your fist and every so often you tug on it to hear seungmin whimper. he does look awfully pretty in that collar.

you tug on the leash again, pulling seungmin down so that you can kiss his lips. his hips pick up speed again when you wrap the leash one more loop around your hand.

“you’re just a puppy, huh?” you murmur against his cheek. seungmin’s rhythm falters a little bit as his eyebrows furrow at your comment. you see him take a peek at chan out of the corner of his eyes. “it’s alright seungminnie, don’t be embarrassed. he’s just a dog too.”

chan doesn’t say a word, but his leg starts bouncing up and down.

“see look, just like a dog thumping its leg,” you whisper into seungmin’s ear. it’s quiet enough in seungmin’s room so you know chan can hear what you said. the only sound other than the slapping of your hips together is that of seungmin’s oscillating fan.

seungmin breathes a whine into your collarbone, and you use that as an excuse to pull his hair hard enough to lift his head so that you can look him in the eyes.

“you’re a good boy seungminnie, did you know that?” seungmin nods his head yes but quickly stops and shakes it no instead. seungmin’s stopped fucking you now, you reckon he’s overwhelmed, so you run your fingers through his hair. “well it’s true, and i don’t lie. you’re such a good little puppy for me, seungmin, and do you know what good boys get?”

“w-what do good boys get?” seungmin asks, hips wiggling.

“good boys get to hump, isn’t that right channie? ‘cause that’s what dogs do.”

seungmin and chan sound so sweet when they moan together, voices almost harmonizing. your new favorite melody. you spur seungmin into moving when you pat his flank, and he does exactly what you told him to. his hips buck almost wildly against yours. you turn your head to look at your boyfriend and smirk at the way he’s minutely grinding his hips up into nothing. seungmin shifts his weight onto one hand and goes to touch your clit with his nimble fingers, but you stop him before he can.

“no, no, it’s okay honey, puppies can’t do that with their paws. you let me worry about that.” and you do, using the hand not holding the leash to reach down and rub your clit while seungmin watches.

“i like- i like that,” seungmin gasps. it’s cute the way his stomach contracts when he thrusts into you.

“you like what, seungminnie?”

“the way you, ah, the way you talk to me. every time i cum from- from now on i’ll think of this,” seungmin confesses as he kisses down your shoulder to your arm.

it’s a headrush. knowing that you have seungmin in the palm of your hand so easily like this. not only seungmin, but chan too. you can tell by how wide his eyes are; he’s hanging on to every word.

“seungminnie, that’s sweet. how about next time i let you and channie both be my doggies? You can hump one leg and my channie can hump the other, and i’ll just sit here and watch. how about that? will you touch your cock to that too?”

“yes, yes, i will, promise,” seungmin cries. his hips buck against you so hard that his cock slips out, but he can’t stop moving in order to press back inside of you. seungmin’s just as happy fucking his cock against the mound of your cunt, grunting every time the slit of his cock rubs against your soft skin.

“what about you, channie? will you touch yourself too?” you ask, turning to look at your boyfriend. he’s red in the face, sweating, curly hair sticking to his forehead.

“you know i will, you know i will, baby.”

seungmin cums with a sweet whine from low in his throat.

“good. now come clean up this mess seungminnie made.”

jeongin

“ooh!” you exclaim. you clutch at jeongin’s biceps from where he’s holding himself up above you. “‘s big, innie.”

jeongin lets out a shuddery breath and blinks a bead of sweat from his eyelashes. it falls on your forehead.

“is that- is that okay?” he asks nervously. you can feel him stiffen above you, so you start to massage your hands up and down his arms. before you can answer him yourself, chan answers for you.

“it’s good, ayen-ah, don’t worry. my baby likes big.”

“oh, hyung that’s- please shut up.” you giggle at jeongin’s response and he smiles down at you, albeit a little shaky.

“you can do whatever you want to me, innie. it’s your first time, just enjoy it.” he nods at your words, finally beginning to move his hips against you.

“ahh, shit, you’re so-” jeongin doesn’t finish that sentence. “is it good for you? does it feel like this for you too?” you’re really wet, so he knows he’s doing alright on that front, but he wants to know how to make it even better. he brings a hand down to your pussy to feel.

“there, rub there,” chan guides from his seat close to the bed. “you like it wet? that’ll make it wetter.” you throw your head back as jeongin complies with chan’s suggestion, two of his fingers rubbing circles on your clit.

“that’s good, innie, feels so good,” you cry.

jeongin presses a kiss to your sweaty neck in thanks. he stays there, mouthing repeatedly at your skin. his lips are a little timid but a lot sweet, and you encourage him by running your fingers through his hair.

“can you, ah, will it be okay if i turn you over?” jeongin asks.

you nod to him and press a kiss to his lips, patting his side as a signal for him to get off so you can change positions. you both hiss when his cock slides out of you.

you make a show out of turning over for both jeongin and your boyfriend. jeongin’s hand squeezes the swell of your ass, and you hear him gasp when he takes notice of the slight gape from where he was inside you a few seconds prior.

“oh that’s- oh wow,” jeongin breathes. “hyung, come see.”

you preen when chan leaves his spot to stand beside the bed. his gaze joins jeongin’s on your center, and you wiggle your hips in impatience. chan cracks a hand down swiftly on your ass cheek and you whine. he knows what’s on the tip of your tongue, so he hooks two fingers into your opening and fucks you with them slowly. “just wanna be filled, huh?”

“yeah, yeah. i want jeonginnie’s cock again,” comes your answer. chan laughs and smacks your ass once more before retreating back to his prior spot. jeongin heaves a deep breath and shakes his head, muttering an okay, okay under his breath. he presses you further into the bed so you’re almost lying entirely flat on your front until he quickly grabs a pillow from the head of his bed and stuffs it under your hips.

“good, ayen-ah, where’d you learn that?” chan teases, nodding his head. jeongin rolls his eyes at that. you can’t see him, but you know him well enough to know that’s what he does. he doesn’t answer as he focuses on sheathing his cock inside you again and making sure his arms don’t give out from under him.

jeongin cages you against the bed, his torso to your back and thighs on either side of yours.

“ah it’s- it’s warm, where he hit you.” you can still feel the phantom sting of chan’s palm against your ass, and you notice it more when jeongin places his hand gently on top of where chan’s handprint is no doubt seared into your skin. that must get to jeongin because he thrusts into you harder than he has before.

“s-sorry! sorry, i’m sorry, i can’t,” jeongin babbles, and you coo at him. your hand searches for his elegant fingers. when you find them you bring his hand back up beside your head, holding it and kissing his knuckles.

“it’s okay, honey, i like that. d’you wanna cum in me? fuck me until you cum, innie, would you like that?” you ask him, trying your best to fuck back on him with his weight holding you down. he’ll cum in the condom he’s wearing, but the barrier doesn’t matter right now.

“please, i- won’t last, i can’t. you’re- too pretty, so pretty, i can’t,” jeongin’s fucking you faster now. he’s so desperate to cum that it makes your pussy clench, and he shouts. your own fingers find your clit in the hopes that you can cum with him, a perfect end to his one-of-a-kind first time.

“look at that, keep going iyennie, gonna make my baby cum too,” chan hums. jeongin’s balls deep in you, and you’re facing your boyfriend, falling apart for him and one of his closest friends. chan has his cock out, and you’re surely drooling now. you’ll have to remind jeongin to wash his sheets afterwards.

your hand is trapped under you from yours and jeongin’s combined weight, but that doesn’t stop you from frantically rubbing your clit. that’s enough for jeongin; he chokes on a moan and he stops breathing as he cums inside you. inside the condom, but inside you nonetheless.

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to-read-is-to-dream · 1 year ago

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Title: Need - 1 Word Count: 3.1k+ Rating: M Genre: fluff, smut, abo!universe, hybrid!bts Warnings: slightly possessive behavior, eventual smut Pairing: Namjoon x fem!Reader, Yoongi x fem!Reader, Hoseok x fem!Reader Summary: Sometimes you find your mate, and sometimes you find three. Life is funny that way. Written by: Admin A

Part One - Part Two - Part Three(end)

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to-read-is-to-dream · 1 year ago

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red string ml

“our connection is determined by a tiny invisible string”

summary: you figured it was too late for your string to solidify, used to the idea of finding someone on your own, who also never got their string. However, your string began to tug when you least expected it, to the last person or people you would have ever thought.

genre: soulmate au, red string of fate au, poly au,

pairing: BTS (Yoongi centered) x Reader

status: ongoing (random updates)

warnings: slight yandere themes, smut, insecure reader, alcohol, talks of jealousy, soul bonds, mentions of past abuse,

I am not going to have a taglist for this fic. I will only be using the permanent taglist as its intended for all of my fics.

permanent taglist: @m1sss1mp @yourleftsock @skyys-universe @cryingpages @strxwbloody @drissteele @dustyinkpages @iamkookiesforyou @crushedblackroses @fluffy-canada-pancakes @blaaiissee @iiitsmaria @carolinexkpop @azazel-nyx @strawberry-moonpies @g-h-o-s-t-b-a-b-i @knjkitten @foreverweareyoung7 @lachimolala22019 @namuficxs @94z-93 @kimgmzmc @thenaverse @dahliasbouqet @black-rose-29 @tinyoonsblog @take-u-2-an0ther-w0r1d @stellauniverse @stupendouscookiehumanmug @tinyoonsblog @veronawrites @tatyhend @singukieee @m0v3m3ntsblog @exfolitae @butterymin @queen-in-the-shadows

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part 1

part 2

part 3

more to come…

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to-read-is-to-dream · 1 year ago

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Oasis Pt. 1

Pairing: OT7(technically/eventually) x Reader

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: Um… none that I can think of lol

Genre: Fluff

Summary: Oasis~ a pleasant or peaceful area or period in the midst of a difficult, troubled, or hectic place or situation.

Running a hybrid sanctuary isn’t always be easy, especially not when it specializes in rehabilitating hybrids with physical and mental disabilities. But no matter the challenges you may encounter, the guests you encounter always are a constant reminder that it’s 100% worth it.

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to-read-is-to-dream · 1 year ago

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in my head; kth

➵ pairing: fwb!taehyung x reader

➵ genre: pwp (porn with plot), angst, college au

➵ word count: 8k

➵ synopsis: taehyung’s friends love you ー adore you. they probably want to fuck you, but they’ll never admit to it. instead, they’ll push taehyung’s limits in the middle of a frat party, testing just how close they can get to you before he takes you to bed in a fit of jealousy. and maybe, just maybe, one of his friends can have a taste too (if he’s lucky).

inspired by thuy's in my head

warnings under the cut!

➵ warnings: unrequited love, commitment issues, dacryphilia, degradation (use of the word slut, whore, and pervert), fingering, oral (f receiving), spit kink, overstimulation, use of the color system, breast play, hand job, unprotected (jealous/possessive) sex, marking, impact play (slapping - face & pussy, spanking), breeding kink, choking, mirror sex, voyeurism, exhibitionism, manhandling, mentions of intoxication (mc & taehyung are sober!), use of the word daddy, mentions of religion, ass play, mentions of dp, creampie

You can’t help but think that this is a terrible idea. The heavy bass and the sound of rap lyrics vibrate through the walls of the old Victorian house. Unfamiliar voices are muffled beneath the syncopated beats, and you can’t make out a single word.

You’ve managed to escape the sticky, beer-stained floors and the heat of the frat party downstairs. Instead, you’ve sought refuge in one of the bedrooms, hand-in-hand with none other than Kim Taehyung himself.

The space around you is dark, save for the dim lamp behind you. You’re propped on top of his tiny desk, careful not to knock over the expensive camera that rests beside you.

“I thought you were gonna show me your new photos.” You pull apart from Taehyung’s lips, meeting his gaze between pretty eyelashes.

Your words slur, finding it difficult to talk with his tongue in your mouth. A string of spit connects your lips together. It threatens to break loose the further you recline.

With hooded eyes, he leans forward, chasing after your kiss. “What’s the rush?”

His lips brush against the corner of your mouth as his hand wanders down to the hem of your dress, bunching it over your waist. The straps have already fallen loose from your shoulders, the top of your breasts spill out from over the fabric.

Taehyung grips your jaw, squeezing your cheeks between his fingers. His nose nudges against the column of your neck. A sigh falls from his lips as he lingers over your pulse point, his breath hot against your skin, teeth grazing.

He glides a finger over the taut fabric of your panties. It’s soaked from your arousal, wet and sticky between your thighs.

“Look at the mess you’ve made,” he taunts with a crooked smile. “I’ve barely even touched you.”

Although that may be true, you’ve been kissing for what feels like over an hour.

In an effort to pull him closer, you wrap your legs around his waist. The outline of his erection leaves an imprint against the fabric of his sweats. It rests against your core, hot and heavy. You shift in your seat, desperately wanting him to pull your underwear to the side so he could stuff you full.

“Who got you this worked up, hm?” Taehyung dips his head down to kiss your shoulder.

His fingers squeeze your cheeks once again, and he angles your face to look him in the eyes, domineering. The hum of his low voice sends a shiver down your spine. His gaze is dark and hazy with lust and desire.

There’s a soft glow of light that surrounds you, almost like a halo. Taehyung thinks that you look the prettiest at times like this ー when you’re pressed beneath his weight, right in the palm of his hands.

You meet his eyes before shifting focus to his swollen lips. He quirks his brow, and you melt in his touch. Perhaps you’ve been staring at him for a moment too long because you can feel your saliva pool out of your mouth, dribbling down your chin.

Taehyung’s thumb swipes across your bottom lip, collecting your drool. “What’s wrong, love?” He tsks, tapping the side of your cheek. “You always have so much to say, but now what? Don’t tell me you’ve gone this stupid for cock.”

A fervent whine escapes from your parted lips. Your eyes brim with tears as your cunt pulses with desperate need, aching to feel Taehyung inside of you, even if it’s just the tip.

Taehyung throbs at the sight of your soaked eyelashes, but he pays no mind to your pleas as he sinks down to his knees.

“Let’s try again.” He spreads your legs further apart, trailing kisses against the inside of your thigh. “Who made you this wet?” His lips hover over your panty clad cunt before mouthing against the fabric.

“Taehyung, don’t tease,” you shake your head, babbling. “You’re the only one I want, you know that.”

He pushes the cotton aside, revealing your sweet pussy to his wandering eyes.

“I’m the only one?” In a deep voice, he hums against your folds. “Are you sure it’s not Namjoon?”

You shake your head in denial. “Just you,” you say in a hushed tone.

His fingers spread your lips apart, watching you clench around nothing. Taehyung lingers above you before releasing a glob of spit onto your core. It glides between your slit, dripping down your entrance.

You spread your legs wider, making room for his broad shoulders. His gentle, teasing fingers trace across your sensitive lips before dipping them between your velvety walls.

“You seemed to be really cozy with Joonie though,” Taehyung pumps two fingers inside of you, easily gliding between your soaked cunt. “You were acting like such a needy slut downstairs, I swear that you wanted to fuck my friends.”

His jaw clenches. You can sense a hint of jealousy in his tone. You find that to be odd considering Taehyung is never jealous.

He’s not even yours.

Taehyung has always been difficult to read. More often than not, in the lonely hours of the night, you’re within an arm's reach, prepared to keep him company, dropping everything at his beck and call.

After tangling between the sheets at the end of every night, he’d comb his fingers through your freshly-washed hair, careful not to linger too long on the hickeys that scatter across your collarbone.

Meanwhile, you’d trace hearts onto his back, wondering what he thinks about when he looks at you ー whether or not your name sits inside of his head in that current moment, if ever at all.

Time and time again, he reminds you that this is just casual. The two of you are supposed to let loose and have fun.

Yet he holds your hand so gently when you cross the street, when you slow dance in the quiet of the night, and when he fucks you deeply and ardently into the mattress. After, he’d order Chinese delivery to your house, stuffing siu mai in your cheeks so that you would shut up and stop talking nonsense about paying him back.

He even kisses your forehead and calls you his good girl after leaving love bites on your neck.

It would be impossible not to fall for someone like Kim Taehyung as kind, sweet, and humble as he is.

If you ask him to be your boyfriend, would he laugh? Would he furrow his brows and wonder why? Would he utter a vague response? Something along the lines of “I don’t know.” He often deploys these words when he’s faced with questions he doesn’t want to think about.

In your mind, the worst case scenario occurs when Taehyung breaks it off right then and there, asking you to leave. Meanwhile, you linger by the door, begging him to love you just once, and maybe twice ー Through the ups, downs, and in betweens.

It never happens. You never ask. You never bring it up. You just go through the motions, settling for the warmth of Taehyung’s body, even if it’s a temporary fix.

Lost in your own thoughts, you bite back a whimper. Your hand shoots up to cover your mouth. Taehyung grabs your wrist, placing it at the edge of his desk.

“You weren’t this shy when you were whispering in Jimin’s ear ー when his hand was on your thigh, and when you were acting like a huge, desperate cock tease.”

The possessive part of Taehyung’s brain takes root when he guides his hand between your legs, slapping your clit. Shuddering under his touch, you release a silent scream.

Taehyung plunges another finger inside of you, stretching you apart with a steady pace. It feels like too much, yet not enough at the same time. Your head is spinning, body sensitive from the heat of his skin against yours.

“I want to hear you cry for me.” His brows furrow. A look of faux sympathy crosses his angelic features. “Unless you don’t want my friends to hear you being such a whore.” He speaks so casually, as if he didn’t just drop another glob of spit onto your mound. “I’m sure you wouldn’t mind if Namjoon was here though ー watching you.”

You shake your head, panting for air, trying to catch your breath as he curls his fingers inside of you.

“Really? Then how about Jimin?” He taunts you so cruelly.

Your tongue darts out of your mouth, licking your lips before you can bring yourself to speak. It’s too difficult to form words when your mind is numb on pleasure, nothing but a steady hum of static.

But if there’s one thing that you should know about Taehyung is that he is not a patient man (despite the fact that he’s been edging you for the better part of the last hour). It’s evident when he wraps his hand around your throat, bringing your attention back to his hazy eyes. He needs your answer, and he needs it now.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you,” he says, demanding, squeezing the column of your neck.

He’s obsessed with the way your throat constricts beneath the pressure of his grip as you swallow your spit.

“Would you prefer if Jeongguk was here then?”

His lips curl into a smile as if he’s testing you, but you see right through his sweet facade. Kim Taehyung is nothing if not mean in bed. If you were to be honest, he would find a way to punish you despite the reassurance in his tone.

After all, Kim Taehyung has never been one to show you mercy. He will spank you, choke you, and fuck you until you’re at the edge of your limit, simply because you let him. Because you love it, and you love when you’re reduced to nothing but a slutty little mess.

“It’s just you, Tae,” you murmur weakly. “Just want you, not Guk.” Despite the affirmation in your voice, your walls clench around Taehyung’s fingers.

Guk? Since when did you ever use nicknames with Jeongguk?

“Love, we both know that’s not true,” he says, slapping your clit once again.

You curse under your breath.

“‘m sorry, ‘m sorry,” you sob with tears streaming down your face, but you adore every second of it. Taehyung takes a moment to wipe the tears from your eyes before pressing a tender kiss to the apples of your cheeks.

“I saw the two of you at the door earlier,” Taehyung begins, swiping his tongue across his bottom lip, biting the flesh between his teeth.

It’s true that Jeongguk invited you to the party. Actually, he asked you long before Taehyung had even brought it up. But no, Jeongguk is not your date and neither is Taehyung.

At the very least, Jeongguk had the decency to acknowledge you and give you an ounce of attention (Taehyung would argue that Jeongguk looks at you like he’s in love with you, yet you remain oblivious, chalking it down to being friends).

The entire evening, you talked his ear off about your neuroscience research ー the idea of emotional numbness being a symptom of certain psychological disorders. It sounds depressing, but when you manage to break it down, comparing it to Widowmaker’s genetically modified brain chemistry, Jeongguk clung onto your every word.

Not only are you so adorable, but so fucking brilliant. On top of that… you can unpack the lore of his favorite Overwatch hero for hours on end? You might just be the girl he’s been searching for in all of his dreams. It’s no wonder he looks at you with so much love in his eyes.

Meanwhile, throughout the whole night, Taehyung was too “busy” to approach you ー only watched from afar. He can’t risk the thought of people finding out about your relationship. Rather, he was swarmed with girls hanging off of his arm, vying for his attention. Yet the only thing he saw was you.

You finally had a moment alone when he brushed against your arm, asking you to trail him upstairs to “show” you the photos he took on his new camera.

And that is exactly how you found yourself in this predicament.

“Jeongguk was so sweet to take off your jacket and offer you a drink.” Taehyung circles your clit with calloused fingers as if he has all the time in the world.

These soft, gentle touches only mark the beginning of your punishment, and you’d be lucky if you could crawl out of bed tomorrow morning. You close your eyes, praying to a higher power that you’ll make it out of here in one piece.

“Have you seen the way he looks at you?” He murmurs against your jaw, pressing a kiss to your chin, barely missing the soft curve of your lips. “I’m pretty sure he thinks about you when he touches himself.”

To emphasize his point, Taehyung glides his hand down the inner part of your thigh. Goosebumps ripple across your skin as you shiver in his hold.

“What if Jeongguk was here, watching you beg for my cock, hm?” Taehyung hums. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

You whine desperately, saying anything that would please Taehyung despite how easily your body betrays you ー pussy pulsing with need, carnal and insatiable.

Anyone could tell that Jeongguk has a huge crush on you. It’s in the way that he looks at you with wide, lovestruck eyes. He holds onto every single one of his words as if you’re rewriting the stars. Whenever you share a lame joke that flies over everyone’s head, he’s giggling like it’s the funniest thing in the world.

Truthfully? Nothing pisses Taehyung off more than that.

Somehow, even the sound of Jeongguk’s name makes you clench around Taehyung’s fingers.

“Do you want him to fuck you?”

The image of Jeongguk making room for himself in your cunt makes you break into tears, sobbing. Or perhaps Jeongguk would be the type to take it slow, you can never be so sure. His pretty face is so deceptive. Maybe he would memorize every inch of your skin and make love in a way you’ve never quite understood.

“Because I know that Guk wants to.” Taehyung says it as a matter of fact. As if he knows something that you don’t. There’s malice in his tone when he utters the nickname you’ve defaulted to.

“Would you let the boys watch? Namjoon? Jimin? You know they’re quite fond of you, right? You might give them the impression that they have a chance with you because you’re such an easy slut.” Taehyung spins a dirty fantasy inside of your head while he rubs deft circles onto your clit. Your slick arousal seeps out of your pulsing cunt, soaking his fingers.

“I bet you’d let Jeongguk fuck you raw too.”

The innermost part of you thinks about Jeongguk losing his innocent image so that he could stretch you open and flood you with his cum, round after round. How he would plug your needy cunt with his length, forcing you to cockwarm him, locking his cum inside of you until he’s ready to ruin you all over again.

How would Taehyung feel if he were to watch? You can’t decide if he would love it or hate it, and neither can you.

Jeon Jeongguk is nothing if not kind, so surely, he could do you one favor, right?

With the thought of Jeongguk stretching you open, your orgasm washes over you, and you tremble in Taehyung’s arms, consumed by your climax. You cry out, muttering apologies over and over again. Tears cascade down your cheeks, unable to control yourself.

But perhaps you’re not sorry at all.

That’s all it takes for Taehyung to latch his mouth onto your clit, sucking harshly on the small bundle of nerves. You buck your hips, wanting him impossibly closer, but his hands squeeze around your waist, pinning you to the table.

His tongue delves between your entrance, lapping the arousal that drips out of you. The taste of your cum is such a sweet reward, but it’s almost offensive how you could come to the thought of fucking another man, a man who is not him, but one of his friends and fraternity brothers. Even if Taehyung was the one to flood your head with thoughts of Jeongguk, he can’t seem to handle the truth.

Maybe, just maybe, it’s because you could slip through his fingers and leave him at any point in time. How much longer can you deal with this lack of commitment ー no strings attached situationship?

The gossip among your friends isn’t lost on him. He knows that they don’t like him, always urging you to step away. An ember ignites inside of his chest when he recounts a conversation he once overheard: ‘Jeongguk’s been asking about you. You should give him a chance, don’t you think? What if he’s the one?’

As if Taehyung has something to prove, he works you into overdrive, sucking your clit into his mouth as he rolls the small bundle of nerves with his tongue.

You reach down, gripping his hair between your fingers, feeling much too overstimulated after your first orgasm. Taehyung digs his face deeper into your pussy in hopes that he can elicit the sweet whimpers that make his cock leak with beads of precum.

From beneath his desk, he drags down the band of his sweats, just low enough for him to pull out his dick. His hand wraps around his length, jerking off to the sound of your moans and the way that your pussy weeps for him, squelching into the quiet of the night.

Taehyung eats you out like he’s starving ー messy and depraved. You’re dripping in arousal, completely soaking his chin with your essence.

Your legs quiver, closing around Taehyung’s head as you approach your high once again. He circles his arms around your thighs, spreading them wide apart. You’re rendered immobile, forced to take him like the good girl he knows you are.

He picks up the pace, forcing his tongue deep between your walls.

Trembling in his hold, you tip over the edge with a sob that rips through your throat. Your cunt pulses as he laps up the cum dripping from your core.

Your fingernails dig into his scalp, yet Taehyung has no intention of stopping. In fact, the pain drives him to work even faster. He swipes his tongue against your clit, sucking on the bud and working you into overstimulation. He needs to make sure that you don’t ever think about touching another man but him.

He may not be yours, but you are his without a single doubt.

Taehyung plunges his fingers back inside of you, massaging the inside of your cunt with delicious friction. It’s on the border of pleasure and pain, yet you welcome it as you ride out your high.

“Taehyung…” You whimper in a weak voice, “It’s too much…” Once more, you tug on his hair, pulling him apart from your cunt, even as it pulses in his wake.

But Taehyung can’t help himself, lurching forward, he wedges himself between your thighs. He needs to taste you, just a little more as if this is the last time he’ll ever have you. He kisses your clit, repeatedly, one smooch after another ー completely pussy drunk. He knows that you can take it.

You slump against his desk, legs weak. But there’s nothing you can do. What Taehyung wants, Taehyung gets. And all he wants is to mark you, claim you, and breed you until you’re filled with his cum for days on end.

Taehyung wipes his chin with the back of his hand, and it just might be the hottest thing you’ve ever seen. He picks you up from beneath your thighs, and you wrap your arms around his neck.

You’re no stranger to the bounce of his bed as he lays you on top of his covers. You’ve been there a dozen times before, having memorized the feeling of the cool, linen fabric against your exposed skin.

Taehyung tugs on the neckline of your dress, revealing your breasts to his hungry eyes. He suckles on one of your pert nipples while twisting the other between his thumb and forefinger.

Meanwhile, you reach forward, palming his erection through his sweatpants. He grinds against your hand as he hums into your chest. Murmurs of “mine, mine, mine.”

His hand reaches down to circle your wrist before shoving them down his pants. He dips your hand beneath the fabric, guiding your hand to fist his cock, pumping his length without the burden of cotton in between.

It’s heavy in your hands, long and thick. You can barely wrap your fingers around the circumference of it all.

Taehyung shifts focus onto your neck, sucking love bites into your delicate skin. To fuel his ego, he needs the rest of the world to know that you belong to him. That nobody can fuck you better than him. Not Namjoon, not Jimin, and definitely not Jeongguk.

“Tae, I need you.” The words are slurred coming out of your mouth. You’re delirious, yet you haven’t even had a taste of him.

“You think you deserve my cock?” He tilts his head to the side, arching his brow. His question is rhetorical, yet you can’t help but nod with desperation.

It’s condescending and downright degrading, but you grow wetter upon tasting his arrogance. You should feel pathetic for wanting his warmth and his comfort, yet in this very moment, he is the only thing that you crave.

Taehyung tugs his shirt over his head and drags his sweatpants down to his thighs. He slides his bare cock between your folds. It’s puffy and much too sensitive, but you love the feeling of his weight on you.

He taps your clit with the head of his cock once, twice, three-four times.

“Who does this pretty cunt belong to?” He doesn’t shift his gaze, even when your eyes roll back, consumed with blinding pleasure.

“It’s yours, Taehyung,” you whimper, melting into the sheets. “I’m all yours.”

“Good girl, that’s what I like to hear,” he says before tapping your bottom lip.

Instinctually, you open your mouth, and he drops a glob of spit straight down your throat.

Before you can even swallow, Taehyung is lining up his cock with your entrance until he bottoms out, leaving you with little to no time to adjust to his girth.

“My pussy’s all yours.” You manage to mutter a string of words, breathless, half coherent as he stretches you wide open.

“Mine?” Taehyung quirks his brow. His jaw clenches. “Then how about I fuck a baby inside of you, huh?”

If you had any semblance of sanity, your rationality would have spoken against it. But when Taehyung looks at you with such desperate eyes, almost animalistic, you can’t help but to wrap your legs around his waist, forcing his cock deeper into your fertile cunt, begging him to breed you.

The squelch of your heat fills the otherwise quiet room. It’s verging on pornographic ー the sound of skin slapping on skin. When he nestles his hips against yours like two pieces of a puzzle, he groans against your collarbone, resuming his mission to claim you and make you his, ravishing your skin until a deep bruise forms in its place.

He glides into you so effortlessly, his pace punishing. The slick of your arousal allows him to rut into you like you were made for him. By now, you’re certain that he’s fucked your pussy into the shape of his cock. It’s reserved for Taehyung so long as he’ll have you.

He grabs the back of your thighs, folding you in half, right into a press, perfect for breeding. But not before roughly delivering a spank to the curve of your ass. The impact leaves a temporary mark, and you thrive off of the attention that he gives you.

You’re so fucked out, you can’t think of anything other than coming with Taehyung’s name on your tongue.

He pounds into you with a force that causes your body to inch up the mattress. The bed frame rocks against the wall, but neither of you care about the repercussions. Nobody could possibly hear you whoring yourself out when the boom of the bass is so loud downstairs.

Would it really be such a bad thing if someone were to catch you?

It should be humiliating how wet you are, soaking his cock like a bitch in heat. But in fact, you’re in love with the way he prods your cervix as he finds his home nestled inside of you.

Taehyung grips the underside of your jaw, turning your head so that you can face the floor length mirror on the other side of the bed.

His lips press against the shell of your ear as he whispers sweet nothings against your blazing hot skin. “You’re such a good girl. Look at how well you take me,” he coos.

You stare into your reflection, eyes meeting your own in the mirror. Your makeup is a complete and utter mess. Your mascara runs down your cheeks from the tears in your eyes, your lipgloss stained from all the kisses you’ve shared.

Taehyung’s hips roll against yours, and your gaze shifts to the strain of his muscles. His back is so broad and so strong. His biceps flex from holding himself above your body.

From this angle, you can see the way he drives into you. Your pussy can’t help but swallow him deeper and deeper, accommodating his length as it drags against your walls with a delicious, slow burn. He fucks you so ardently, he can barely pull away for long before burrowing right back into your core, settling into the deepest parts of you.

With your eyes trained on the mirror, you can spot the faint love bite that blooms beneath his ear. Perhaps there is a small part of Kim Taehyung that does belong to you. Or maybe your mind is playing tricks on your heart once again.

Taehyung props himself up on his knees for more leverage. But before he can situate himself, he notices the small crack in the doorway, slightly ajar. Through the gap, he can see the wandering eyes of his fellow fraternity brother, none other than Park Jimin. He genuinely has no idea how long he’s been standing there.

Feeling high on some power trip, Taehyung flashes an amused smirk at the man on the other side of the door, shooting him a wink as he plows his hips against yours.

There’s a small part of Jimin’s subconscious that makes him believe he should walk away and pretend that this never happened. It feels wrong to spy on his best friend splitting your sweet cunt in half, but he can’t seem to look away. The longer he stares, the harder he gets.

Maybe it’s the boost of serotonin that Jimin gets from the sight of your tits. They’re bouncing from the force of Taehyung’s thrusts, and he can only imagine how they would feel beneath his palms. Perhaps it’s the sound of your dulcet voice, begging Taehyung to fuck you deeper, spank you harder, and love you louder.

Jimin has only ever dreamt about the sound of your moans, but now, he can hear them loud and clear from the other side of the door.

He wipes his eyes with the back of his hand. Perhaps this is a dream. Or maybe he’s a little too drunk at this point of the night.

But when he looks up again, he’s met with Taehyung’s darkened eyes. Jimin’s mouth goes dry, wishing that he could be there in place of his dear friend.

In all of his dreams, Jimin has never pictured you to like it so rough. You’ve always been so kind and so sweet, offering to clean the dishes among his dirty fraternity brothers. You’re so considerate to keep him company while he builds his Lego sets late into the evening.

You’re practically the face of innocence.

Now with this knowledge of you being a dirty, little whore, he can stow it away into the back of his mind, saving it for the dark and restless nights.

When Taehyung’s thumb meets your clit, you whimper his name. It’s raw, almost painful, coming from your scratchy throat.

“Say it again,” Taehyung demands, tapping the side of your face with his free hand before gliding it down to your neck. “Say my name again. If you want me to cum inside of you, beg.”

You cry out his name as your eyes roll back, his length prodding against your cervix, bruising the soft, spongy spot inside of you. Unintelligible murmurs spill from your lips. “I’ll do whatever you want. I just want your cum, I need it, please, please, please. Need you to fuck me full. I want your babies, daddy. You promised, remember?”

Something inside of Taehyung ignites whenever you call him daddy. “You need it? Need my cum? My babies?”

Taehyung picks up the pace, burying himself deep inside of you. His tone is mocking, and you fall apart to the sound of his voice. “What a needy fucking plaything.”

He pays no mind to the way you shudder beneath him, tears falling down your face. He continues to maneuver you into a different position, manhandling your body in a way that has you clenching around him even tighter, sheathing his cock deeper between your walls. He hooks his arm beneath the bend of your knees, lifting your legs over his shoulders until you curl beneath him.

You’re addicted to the way he fills you to the brim, splitting you in half. A ring of milky cream coats the base of his cock, revealing itself whenever he pulls out the slightest bit. It’s mixed with the saliva that he drops onto your mound, making the glide so effortless.

Had this been any other night, Taehyung would not let you off the hook this easily. Instead, he would humiliate you into begging. Your face would be pushed into the mattress while he makes a mess of your pussy. He would spill his load inside of you while prolonging your orgasm, only allowing you to come if you beg for it. But tonight, he’s being much too kind in the presence of his guest.

Taehyung brings his hand down, spanking the curve of your ass. “You’re mine, aren’t you?” He groans against your lips.

You shudder once again when he strikes your clit ー “This pussy is mine.” At this point, you would have thought you’d be used to it by now, but the impact continues to surprise you every time.

He gives a harsh thrust into your cunt, deep and rough. Rushed murmurs of “mine, mine, mine.” For good measure, he spits on your face and slaps your cheek. Kim Taehyung fully knows that you do belong to him, and he needs Jimin to know that.

Taehyung grabs your waist and flips you over so that you straddle his hips. He grips your jaw with a firm grasp, forcing your head toward the direction of the door. He doesn’t seem to forget about his dear friend. Because apparently, Park Jimin is as much of a pervert as you are.

When you lock eyes with Jimin on the other side, you clamp around Taehyung’s length.

He just knows that you love the attention.

Your legs tremble on either side of his waist, and you want to collapse into his chest to hide in embarrassment. Humiliation prickles your cheeks, but you know there’s nowhere to run.

As a reminder of his presence, Taehyung grips your waist. “Color?” All you have to do is say the word, and he’ll stop.

You’ve expressed your interest in exhibitionism before, yet Taehyung has always been the one to keep your relationship a dirty little secret. So it doesn’t come as a surprise when you nod your head in confirmation, cursing out the words, breathless. “Green.”

“‘Atta girl,” Taehyung groans, squeezing your hips. “Why don’t you show Jimin how you ride?” He suggests, clenching his jaw.

There’s an innate need to show Jimin what a pretty, desperate little toy that you are. So you bounce on your knees, fucking yourself onto Taehyung’s cock.

Jimin can’t keep his eyes off of you as your tits bounce on full display. His eyes scan your body up and down, taking note of the dress that bunches around your waist. It’s the same strawberry pattern that you wore to Sunday service the week prior.

He remembers how pretty you looked as you sat cross legged on the other side of the pew 一 when you had volunteered to pass around plates of food for the elders at the luncheon and when you had flashed him a gummy smile after pouring you a glass of orange juice. But now, the image of you in that same exact dress has tainted his memory.

Your hands rest on Taehyung’s chest as you grind your hips onto his. With each brush against your clit, you shudder, slowly losing your senses from the mind numbing pleasure.

Soon enough, you lose your rhythm, jagged and off-tempo. Your thrusts are much too shallow for Taehyung’s liking, your thighs burning. It’s pathetic. You’re pathetic. But you can’t help it when you’re a little too distracted by Jimin’s eyes boring into yours.

“You can do better than that,” Taehyung growls, landing a sharp slap against your ass. His fingers dig into your waist. Your flesh gives way to his grip, dimpling beneath the pressure.

“Tell Jimin how much you love being fucked like a whore.” Taehyung says, punctuating each syllable with a sharp thrust.

Because you are constantly under Taehyung’s spell, you do as you’re told, whining out Jimin’s name with tears in your eyes. “Minnie…” Taehyung grits his teeth, hating how close you are to all of his friends. At the end of the day, you’re his.

There’s no hesitation in your voice. “Love it so much 一 Love being Taehyung's slut. He fucks me so well, he’s ruined me for anyone else. I can’t- I can’t-” The sobs wrack through your body as the dirty words pool out of your mouth. “Please, Tae, I want to come so bad. I’ve been a good girl, please, please please- I promise I won’t act up anymore, I only want you.”

Taehyung has trouble believing your lies. You’ve been anything but a good girl all night. The images flash before his eyes 一 you drinking with Namjoon, leaning into Jimin’s touch, giggling with Jeongguk. Fuck, the way you came around his fingers when he flooded your pretty little head with thoughts of his friend claiming you in front of everyone like a needy whore 一 it sets a fire ablaze inside of him.

The only thing you’ve done that’s worthy of praise is making room for Taehyung’s fat cock inside of your slutty cunt.

Taehyung forces two fingers into your mouth, demanding you to suck. You swirl your tongue around his digits, making them nice and wet before he traces them down your spine. He circles the puckered rim of your ass before dipping right into your tight hole.

“Would you let Jimin fuck you here?” Taehyung asks, searching for the answer in your eyes. “You could probably come with him in your ass, no?”

Tears stream down your cheeks as you shake your head no.

“Don’t pretend like you haven’t done it before, love. I know you can come as long as your holes are filled,” he coos. “Wouldn’t it feel so much better if you had two dicks inside of you? Sweet girl, I know you can take it.”

You clench at the sound of his filthy words. Taehyung has never proposed a threesome before. He hardly talks to his fraternity brothers about you, whether it is out of privacy, jealousy, or embarrassment, you can never be sure.

Drool starts to drip out of your mouth and pride swells up inside of Taehyung’s heart.

He circles his arms around your waist, bringing you down to his chest. Digging his heels into the mattress, he bends his knees to thrust into you at a merciless pace. His perfect tempo hits your soft, spongy center with such precision. The head of his cock grazes against your g spot with every stroke, and you whine into his neck.

Your eyes are threatening to close, and you find it difficult to catch your breath.

Taehyung murmurs against your skin, reminding you to breathe. Upon hearing his calm voice, your chest heaves against his.

“Come with me, come with me,” he demands, his voice breathy. “Show him that you’re mine.”

With a few deep thrusts, you come on Taehyung’s cock, pulsing around his length. You clench around him so tight as though you never want him to leave. The sound of Taehyung’s moans are muffled by the blood rushing to your head. All you can hear is the thrum of your pulse, pounding against your ear drums.

Taehyung’s hips still against yours as he grabs your waist, trying to find a semblance of self-control. He spills into your cunt with thick spurts of white, hot cum, filling you to the brim. It pours out from between your walls, coating the side of his length.

Your breath is labored as you collapse into his chest, much too weak to hold yourself up any longer.

When you look over at Jimin, there’s a dark, wet spot over the crotch of his pants. A small whimper escapes from his parted lips, his eyes screwed shut.

If you did not have a modicum of rationality in your post orgasmic haze, you would think that Taehyung would offer to invite him inside. But as you’ve come to learn, Taehyung is not a fan of sharing what’s his.

So when the show is over, Jimin is quick to step into the bathroom where he can touch himself to the fresh visual of you in your strawberry print dress. Perhaps he can conjure up the image of you on your knees, wrapping your pretty lips around his throbbing cock. He would die a happy man if he could paint your perfect tits with his cum. But for now, he’ll have to settle with the glide of his hand, imagining that it’s your tight walls sucking him into the warmth of your cunt.

And once Jimin cleans himself up, he’ll be on his merry way to tell his dear friends about the best thing he has ever witnessed in his entire life. He’d be $20 richer after Seokjin coughs up the money he bet on your relationship. And maybe Jeongguk will finally come to terms with his feelings before he loses you completely.

Surely, when all is said and done, Taehyung has cleaned up the mess that he’s made, making sure that you’re happy and well taken care of. He kisses your lips and rubs your back, taking his time to clean you up.

He’s extra gentle when he wipes a wet cloth against your swollen pussy. It’s far too sore after the rough pounding that he had put you through. Possibly bruised and broken, at least that’s how your body feels, yet you wouldn’t be opposed if he suggested another round after you’ve recuperated because you’re simply insatiable.

Yet that moment never comes because the two of you tuck yourselves beneath the covers, making small talk until the morning rises.

You never mention Namjoon nor Jimin. And you definitely wouldn’t dare to utter Jeongguk’s name. With sleepy thoughts and heavy eyelids, you simply let the night cut into the day.

The morning light filters through the curtains, casting a beam across the thin film of your eyes. You’ve been awake for the last hour, keeping yourself occupied by counting the beauty marks that scatter across Taehyung’s face. You’ve done it a million times before. You could probably point them out in the dark, completely blind.

“Creep,” he mutters under his breath when he catches you staring.

A chuckle vibrates through your chest as you playfully push his shoulders. He rolls onto his side, facing the wall, but you cage him in your arms, wrapping them around his waist, molding your body to his. Your laugh tickles the nape of his neck.

Taehyung tries his best to ignore the lingering scent of your perfume on his bed sheets. He doesn’t want to acknowledge the right side of his bed where there’s a dip in the mattress ー the same shape as you.

He won’t even bring up your awful bedhead because he thinks it’s funny. He likes how he’s the only one who gets to see you like this. You’re at your prettiest when you’re beneath him, but also beside him.

Yet if he were to speak of this out loud, it would mean that all of this is his ー that he has something worth losing.

“How about I make some pancakes?” You offer, wiping the exhaustion from your eyes with the back of your hand.

Taehyung shifts in your embrace. He strains his neck to gauge your expression. “Pancakes?”

“Yeah, you got any strawberries?” They’re his favorite. He may have mentioned it once or twice in passing between soft kisses and sleepy yawns. Something about it being a reminder of his grandfather’s farm in Daegu. “Thought I saw some in the fridge the other day.”

“Don’t you have class soon?” Taehyung wonders out loud. He already knows the answer. He has your schedule memorized. How could he not?

“I could be late,” you shrug. “Remember what I told you about Professor Lee? He’s boring anyways.”

On any other day, Taehyung would have said yes without a second thought. But the fact that you’re willing to skip class doesn’t sit right with him. Suffering through medical philosophy 301 might not be that important to you, but… would you honestly prefer to spend your time making strawberry pancakes?

Taehyung clears his throat. “Before I say yes, can I ask you something?”

The air is thick.

There’s hesitation in your response, but you nod nevertheless. “What is it?”

“Are these just pancakes, or… is it something else?”

You part your lips, ready to respond, but the words are stuck in your throat. The answer should have been “just pancakes,” yet you’re certain that it’s more than that.

Perhaps it’s the casual intimacy or the domesticity. Maybe it’s an extra 30 minutes spent with the guy you’re half in love with. Is that too much? Are you too much?

“It’s whatever you want it to be.” You decide to play it safe as if you don’t want to die on the inside. As if his answer won’t have your organs collapsing on itself.

How the hell is Taehyung supposed to tell you that he wants more than just breakfast and half an hour of your time. He wants all of it and more, but it’s selfish to ask for that. You deserve the world, but he can’t give you what you need.

Time and time again, Taehyung has said that this is just casual. No strings attached. But how could he let it get this far?

There’s an adoring look in your eye that triggers his fight or flight response. He’s scared.

“I think… I just want pancakes.” There’s a dull ache in his heart and a voice that’s screaming in the back of his head. “But maybe next time. You should go to class.”

Little do you know, it took a hell of a lot of courage to say anything but “Please have me. Please hold me. I’m sorry.”

You try to push down the sting of his rejection as if it isn’t’ a reflection of the love that you deserve. “Okay, so I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah, maybe.” Taehyung curls onto his side of the bed, retreating into himself. The heat of his body escapes yours. His responses shrink, reduced to nothing but an “I don’t know.”

You contemplate his cold tone and decide not to push any further. Yet you’re certain that you’ll keep yourself awake in the dead of the night by finding meaning in his silence.

For Taehyung, it hurts knowing that he can’t be the man for you. When his efforts fall short of what you deserve, he has a feeling that you’ll slip through his fingers once again. Would that hurt more than pushing you away?

When Taehyung asks you if you need a ride back to your place, a vile feeling bubbles up in the pit of your stomach. You can’t quite explain what it is. Anger? Hatred? Animosity? The truth is, you could never hate Kim Taehyung. Not for all the dreams you’ve shared. Not for all the wasted time. Not for the things he never said.

Taehyung thinks a ride is the best he could do if he can’t offer himself to you. If he can’t be your boyfriend.

You simply decline. “I think I wanna walk,” you mutter. Perhaps a little bit of fresh air is exactly what you need. Some time and space to clear your head and just think.

You hum, flashing him a smile that isn’t much of a smile at all. It doesn’t sit right on your face, Taehyung thinks. It doesn’t reach your eyes the way he’s accustomed to ー like when you ace your physiology exam, when two bags of chips fall out of the vending machine, or when you wave hello to a stray cat from across the street. Even if Taehyung notices the ill-fitting smile on your face, he doesn’t seem to mention it.

So you slip out the door without another word, falling apart in the usual way.

It’s chilly in the hallway outside of Taehyung’s room. You shiver at the feeling.

From the back of your pocket, you pull out your phone, drafting a text to Taehyung: “It’s cold out. You should wear a jacket.”

You contemplate hitting send, but before you can decide against it, a familiar voice brings you to a halt.

“Hey, Y/N, morning!” The sweet lull of Jeongguk’s voice resonates through your eardrums. He’s always awake early in the morning, but perhaps he never went to bed to begin with.

His hair is messy. Disheveled. He has a crumb of toast that sits pretty on the corner of his lips, and you don’t hesitate to dust it off. He flashes a warm smile at you, thankful for the action.

As he often does, you think that he might offer a ride to prevent the walk of shame. If you ever decline, he’ll just nod his head, shrug on a jacket, and walk by your side to the foot of your apartment building. In spite of Jeongguk’s frat boy status, he may be the only decent member of the fraternity.

But this time, you don’t decline. You tuck your head between your shoulders as you shrug. An “okay” slips from your lips, followed by a “thank you.”

Maybe you could use a friend. Maybe you could have more than that.

There’s a set of keys in one of Jeongguk’s hands and a knit scarf in the other. He wraps it around your neck so that you can brave the cold, fifteen steps to his car at the end of the driveway.

But as fixes your bedhead, pulling your hair to the side, careful to not get it caught beneath the fabric of his scarf, he chimes with yet another question.

“Are you and Taehyung serious by the way?”

You shake your head no. “No, not at all,” you murmur, sullen.

There’s a hopeful smile that affixes itself onto his lips. “What would you say if I asked you out on a date?”

2K notes · View notes

to-read-is-to-dream · 2 years ago

Text

denial - jjk (18+)

➵ summary; it's been a plethora of secret meetups, quickies in the bathrooms of his award shows, and 2 am 'you up?' texts during your year-long situationship with jungkook. you both agreed in the beginning that your careers are far too hectic to commit to anything serious, but you can't shake the shitty ache in your chest every time the high wears off, or when you're crawling out of his bed in the middle of the night. trying to exile the shitty feeling of longing that you harbor for him, you spend time with another one of your guy friends. jungkook sees, and he's mad.

➵ pairing ; idol!jk x actress!reader

➵ word count ; 5.3k

➵ rating ; 18+ minors dni

➵ content ; jealous asffff kook, mutual no strings agreement / fwb au, older (just a lil) reader, taehyung sister reader, secret-ish situashionship, smut/fluff-ish/angst-ish, this is FILTHYY i even shocked myself.

➵ warnings ; teasing, swearing, kissing, fingering, spitting, dom!jk, oral sex (f rec.), multiple orgasms, unprotected sex (wrap it UP. don't be silly), sexy stuff starts a lil later on in the story so basically pwp.

a/n ; while i'm working on the next chap of my fic i come bearing a gift! this is a oneshot but if y'all enjoy it i have a bunch of ideas for this pairing i could work on and maybe make an additional part! thanks sm for reading, hope u enjoy <3 also this is my first time writing smut, so any feedback is insanely appreciated and encouraged! mwah

Jungkook's room was quiet, the only noise being his soft humming as his thumb dragged down the expanse of his phone screen, scrolling mindlessly through his private Instagram feed. He's already passed a few of his bandmates' photo dumps, leaving a like on a few and a teasing, sarcastic comment on the others. But, then, smirking at his remarks that he finds absolutely priceless, his thumb grinds to a halt as he comes across your latest post.

There you are, in all of your glory. You're posing prettily with an overfilled cup of ice cream from a popular parlour in Seoul Central. A spoon rests against your lips; eyes closed gingerly for the snap. The side of Jungkook's mouth pulls upwards before he can stop it, a soft, dazed smile coating his lips as he stares at you for longer than he'd like to admit. However, the daze ends as abruptly as it began when his focus shifts to the person seated on your left. He recognizes the guy sitting next to you as the leading male in your latest drama, Jae something.

A hot, uncomfortable feeling bubbles in the pit of Jungkook's stomach as he stares at the classically attractive male in your photo. The feeling intensifies tenfold when he notices the spoon clasped in Jae something's hand, and his eyes search every pixel on his phone screen, begging to find this dirtbag's own cup of ice cream. Finally, he scoffs after scouting every inch of your photo for the third time. So you're really sharing a cup of ice cream with this guy? And it's not even for work. And you posted a picture of it on your Instagram. Your public Instagram.

Jealousy claws at Jungkook's throat with vigour, and he has to lock his phone and put it next to him on his bed before he stands up and hurls it at the wall. Of course, he knows he shouldn't and has no right to be jealous. But he can't help it. He can't control his actions and feelings when it comes to you. He's been infatuated since day one, and though you both have the mutual no-strings agreement as your blooming careers don't allow you the time or freedom to commit to something like that right now, he can't help but feel fucking sick looking at the photo of you and someone else.

The stadium is boisterous; fans hastily rush to get to their seats in the various sections surrounding the stage as if the concert would start without them. You were currently on your way backstage to visit your brother before the show began. After five minutes of weaving around equipment and dodging the stressed crew rushing around doing last-minute preparations, you finally arrived at your destination.

Knocking thrice on the dressing room door, a muffled "Come in!" has you twisting the handle and walking through the threshold with a cheesy grin. The seven men you've been good friends with since your brother introduced you come into view as you enter the room, each of them beaming a mixture of greetings.

"Happy first show!" You exclaim as you walk towards your brother with a bouquet of mixed flowers. Taehyung takes the gift from you with a smile before placing a kiss on your forehead as thanks.

Jungkook's eyes haven't left you since you stepped foot in their dressing room. He swallows harshly, hoping to rehydrate his mouth as all his saliva has apparently decided to dissipate. Jungkook takes in your outfit, the short Chanel dress hugging the curves of your body and showcasing your smooth, slender legs. His tongue pokes the inside of his cheek as he suppresses his smirk when he sees the long-sleeved white undertop you're wearing. Images of you withering beneath him as he marked the top of your breasts a few nights ago flash through his mind, and he has to blink a few times in an attempt to return back to Earth.

Your gaze meets Jungkook's for a split second, watching him drink in your figure before you look back at the rest of the guys with a smile. Then, stepping back to your original position after breaking from the hug with your brother, your arms motion towards the man that you dragged in with you. "This is my friend, Jae Lee."

That's enough to crash Jungkook back down to Earth as his focus shifts to the tall brunette on your right. Jae Lee offers a quick bow with a smile as the rest of BTS chorus a polite greeting in return. "Nice to meet you guys; I'm a big fan." His voice is deep and rugged, just like it is in the drama he starred in with you. The drama that Jungkook binged in one sitting on release day, but he wouldn't tell you that.

"Likewise," Tae returns with a nod and his signature toothy grin before setting the flowers on the tabletop by one of the mirrors, "we're on in ten—do you know where your seats are?"

You nod at your younger brother's question, patting the pocket of Jae's faded jeans, "Jae's got our passes; we'll go there now and let you guys finish getting ready."

Jungkook is fucking fuming at this point as he watches the interaction, tongue pushing against his lower teeth to stop himself from spewing something that would embarrass the both of you.

You bid them one final good luck before spinning on your heel and exiting the room, a cloud of your sweet perfume trains behind you in your departure, invading Jungkook's senses and rendering him dazed as Jae follows you closely, shutting the door gently behind him.

"God, you guys were insane." You arrived back at your brother's apartment (that he shared with Jungkook) a few minutes ago, the three of you piling through the door as you beelined straight for the couch. "Hoseok has the stamina of a horse, I swear. I'm always shocked whenever I watch you guys perform."

Taehyung laughs from behind you as he shrugs off his jacket before jumping over the back of the couch and landing next to you with a huff. His best friend opts for a different route after ridding himself of his coat, walking into the kitchen to grab a drink of water and hopefully clear his head a bit.

It's bad enough that he had a foggy grey cloud glooming in the back of his mind during the concert, but then he had to sit in an enclosed vehicle with you and your brother on the way home because Tae wanted to spend more time with you. Of course, Jungkook doesn't blame his friend; you have a week off before your next shoot, and you're headed to Gwacheon in a couple of days to get settled in. Usually, you and Jungkook would be utilizing this time off in a very different way, but unbeknownst to you, Jungkook is not in the mood right now. And he's always in the mood.

The bottle of water is downed in seconds, and the crunch of the now-empty plastic bottle in his hand pulls him out of his thoughts. Stepping on the pedal of the garbage can, he disposes of the rubbish and listens to the sound of soft padded footsteps entering the kitchen.

"You needa put that in the recycling bin."

Your teasing is gentle as you approach the ink-covered man, brushing past him lightly as you lean against the island opposite him. His lips pull into a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes, and your eyebrows furrow, leg lifting slightly to nudge him with your sock-covered foot.

"What's wrong, grumpy?" You poke, watching as he shakes his head before pushing off the counter and heading out of the kitchen. Your hand reaches out for him a liiiitle too quickly before he can slink away, "Kook? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, ____. I'm good. Exhausted from the show, that's all." He removes his hand gently from your grasp before continuing his departure and leaving you in the kitchen by yourself. A heavy sigh leaves your lips as you head back to the living room, not surprised when your brother is the only one there.

"I'm going to go and pick up the pizza; they shut in 20, and delivery's off for the night," Taehyung informs you as he chucks his jacket back on, "Kook's headed to bed, so we'll just save him some."

You nod at him before falling back onto the couch and reaching for the TV remote. "Drive safe," you call, and he assures you he will, the sound of the apartment door shutting behind him echoing in your ears. That's all you need to hear before you carelessly throw the remote aside and scramble off the couch towards a certain grumpy cat's bedroom.

"Koo?" Your tone is soft, one hand on the door handle of his room, the other rapping gently at the wood.

His low hum from the other side reaches your ears, and you twist the handle, stepping inside quietly before closing the door and leaning against it. You're not entirely sure how to approach this situation. Most of your interactions with the gorgeous man sitting at the edge of his bed with a somber look have had quite a different vibe. Extremely fucking different.

"Tae's gone to pick up dinner, " you try, "I'd say like twenty minutes or so."

He sighs and nods at your obvious hinting, lifting his gaze from the ground and watching as you saunter towards him. The little black dress he first saw earlier today still has him rattled, and your scent getting more robust with each step you take enhances his stupor. You lift one of your legs over his thigh when you reach him, the bottom of your dress riding up as you settle in his lap.

Shoving his dreary subconscious to the side, Jungkook leans forward into you before burying his face into your clothed stomach and inhaling as deeply as he can. Your stupifying, sweet, familiar scent invades his nostrils, and he knows he can always count on that to distract himself. You run your hands through his hair with a mewl as his head rises at an achingly slow pace before it's level with yours.

His eyes are hooded as he closes the distance between you, capturing your lips with his own, and you drink in the soft moan that escapes him when your fingers clutch his hair tighter in your grasp. His mouth is sinful, his tongue delving deeper into your mouth to connect with your own. Instead of your usual teasing fight for dominance, you let Jungkook take control of the kiss, hoping it will soothe the unease you've noticed in his demeanour as of late.

His hands are gliding over your hips, fingers squeezing at the meat of your middle, and you can't help but purr at the feeling, almost as if he's trying to grab as much of your body in his hands as he can. Suddenly the reminder that your brother would be home at any moment returned to your mind, and you reluctantly broke the connection. Climbing off his lap, your feet shakily meet the floor, and your hands reach for the hem of your dress, ready to slip it over your head before you notice the look on his face. He's fighting another internal battle, and it makes you release the fabric in your hands, your dress falling back into place.

"Please tell me what's wrong, Kookie." You mumble, standing in front of him with your hands slumped to your side in defeat. He blows out a quiet breath, shaking his head for what feels like the fifth time tonight before he reaches out for you. Finally, you give in with a deflated sigh, letting him pull you close towards him before he continues your previous actions and clutches the hem of your dress. Dragging the fabric up slowly, he lets it ride just above your stomach before he uses one hand to slip your panties down your legs.

Your eyes flutter shut as the finger hooked into the waistband of your underwear drags across your inner thigh on its journey downwards, his other hand still full of your dress, the thumb on said hand rubbing soft circles against your skin. "Are you together?"

Your eyes snap open at his question, still in a hazy fog from his touches but coherent enough to make out the undertone of his question. His hand doesn't falter in the slightest, your panties hitting the ground with a soft thud, and he drags his hand back up the underside of your thigh when they fall. "No."

So you knew who he was talking about, he thought. "Hm," is all he mutters, the hand on your hamstring bending you at the knee and pulling you abruptly onto his lap. You swallow a yelp as he guides you back over him, unable to help the motion of your hips grinding down when you feel him through his sweatpants.

The feeling that brews inside you when your now bare heat brushes against the fabric of his pants is euphoric, the small wet patch you leave behind being first-hand proof. "10 minutes," you remind in a whisper, leaning forward to attach your lips again, needing additional contact with him more than your next breath.

Jungkook ends the kiss quickly, and it has you pouting when he pulls away. He reaches between you, shoving his sweats and underwear down in one motion, his erection jutting out on demand and hitting his stomach once free. He leans back a little but doesn't allow himself to lie down entirely, and you usher him backwards before his grip on your waist tightens, and you stop your action. You look at him in confusion, his intoxicating chocolate brown eyes lifting from where you're seated to meet your gaze. "Sit on it."

Your breath catches in your throat at his demand, but you follow it nonetheless, his readjustment allowing you to plant your knees on the bed and lean forward slightly. You look down for a split second to grasp at his hardened length resting against his stomach and guide it to where you need it most. You look up before letting it enter you, your eyes flickering over his face and realizing he's already staring at you. He doesn't say anything verbally, but his features give everything away without the need to.

Jungkook leans forward, his hands sliding around your stomach before they reach your back. The flats of his palms cover almost the entirety of your back as his head falls into the crook of your neck. He places a single restrained kiss on your sweet spot, his lips finding it easily as they've visited the area hundreds of times. "Baby," he mutters into your neck, "sit."

And you do.

You finish lining up the tip of his cock at the entrance of your hole before letting go and fully sinking onto him. The mangled breath that he chokes into the crook of your neck paints a devilish smirk on your lips, waiting until you feel his entire length submerge into you before lifting up and slamming back down, harder.

His breathing is heavy as his hands slide down your back before resting on your ass and grabbing a gluttonous handful when you rise. A strangled moan escapes your lips as he squeezes, spreading your cheeks and listening to the elicit sound of your walls sucking him in. You throw your head back in ecstasy, your clit throbbing every time it comes in contact with his balls, the feeling igniting a fire in your belly, arousal coursing through every cell in your body.

"Fucking. Hell," Jungkook curses; his eyes are slits as he glances down at his lap, watching your centre swallow him whole and mercilessly. He lifts one of his hands to his mouth, tongue swirling around his thumb before it presses against your clit, rubbing against it expertly and causing you to spew another strangled moan. "That's it, baby," his tone is low and filthy, and your hands grab onto his shoulders to balance yourself as the pleasure is getting too much.

His torture on your clit doesn't stop, not even when your hips stutter momentarily, the abuse to your cunt pulling at the rubber band holding you together harder and harder with each passing moment. "Stop playing with my clit," you cry, "or I'll fucking cum."

You almost regret opening your mouth because his hand pulls back instantly, and a soft whine leaves you at the loss of contact. You don't think twice before lifting your hips again, about to resume your action of riding him, when all of a sudden, he lifts you slightly, flipping you around until your back hits the mattress. "Wha—" your excuse of a question is cut off abruptly when he kneels down and drags you closer to the edge of the bed, mouth attaching to your clit with vigour.

"Fuck. Fuck." Is all you can mutter, your hands automatically going to his head, fingers threading through his hair and tugging when his tongue hits that part of your cunt that blurs your vision. Jungkook is lost in it, his tongue wrapping around your clit, relishing in the moans spilling from you. Lifting his head slightly, he gathers the saliva in his mouth before he spits on your pussy and dives back in. "What the fuck," you scream as he devours you like he's on death row and your cunt is his last meal, "Gguk—"

"I know, baby," he nods after pulling away for a split second, "just let go." He punctuates his words by sliding a finger, and then two, into your hole, and that's the knot in the fucking noose. His fingers are relentless, pushing all the way into you until they reach that spongey part before sliding out and repeating the same torturous routine. He knows you're close; he knows everything about you at this point. He's proven right when he feels your walls clench around his fingers and shoves his face deeper into your heat in response. His nose is buried in your cunt, tongue lapping and sucking at your clit feverishly, and you lose it. Your moans are silent, your throat not having the power to produce noise anymore as your eyes roll to the back of your head. "Baby," you manage, "I'm fucking cumming."

Jungkook moans into your pussy; its vibration is the tipping point as your vision blurs, flashing white as your orgasm washes over you. Your knees shake, closing around his head as he doesn't relent, your body convulsing and grinding into his mouth as he works you through your orgasm.

Your head is slumped against the pillow as you crash back down to Earth, Jungkook eventually pulling away from your core as you shudder, pressing soft kisses against your inner thigh as he detaches from you. Pulling himself up, he makes his way onto the bed, lowering his strong body over you. He's hungry on his journey upwards, lips dragging against every inch of your skin, his tongue dipping out to wet them when the skin of your leg absorbs their moisture. He explores your stomach, his bunny teeth grazing against your belly button as he gets higher. It looks like he's where he wants to be when he's levelled with your chest. He pulls at the dress that you're honestly still surprised that he's left on you for this long before he lifts it over your head, chucking it to the side without another thought. A grunt leaves his lips when the white long-sleeve you had on under your dress is still there, and he rids it the same, just with more furrowed brows.

A giggle leaves your lips at his frustration before it's replaced with a content sigh as he latches onto your left nipple. Your hand runs through his dishevelled hair; lip caught between your teeth as his tongue wraps around the bud, his teeth grazing at it softly. "T-Taehyung will be back soon," you warn through a moan, "need you inside of me."

A string of spittle drags from your nipple and his mouth as he pulls back, his head tilting slightly as his gaze catches yours. "Still needy," he hums, leaning forward and pressing a sweet kiss to your lips before lifting his hips and grabbing hold of his hardened length. He drags it between your wet folds, the sound of your slickened cunt music to his ears. Your eyes flutter closed at the feeling, still sensitive from your orgasm, but the need to feel him inside you outweighs the overstimulation.

"Beg for it." He says simply, the length of his shaft still firmly in his hand as he drags it through your sticky folds. Your eyes snap open, eyebrows ruffled in astonishment as you stare at the cocky piece of shift above you.

"Jun—" you start, "beg for it." He finishes, his focus lifting from where you're almost conjoined to your face. His face is hard, and you know better than to fight him on this. Your breaths come out shortly; his tone should not be turning you on this much.

"Please." You mewl, your chest heaving once as he presses his cock deeper into folds, not quite yet at the hole you need him to fill. "Please, Jungkook. Fuck me. Fuck me. Ruin me." You spit, losing all sense of self-worth as the heaviness of his lower body against you turns you into a pathetic mess.

His smirk is taunting. It's the last thing you see before your eyes roll back to the back of your head, a disgustingly loud moan booming from your throat as he thrusts into you with one motion. A strangled gasp blows from your lips as he pulls out before slamming back into you twice as hard. Sweat is gathering at the base of his brows, a moan of his own chorusing with yours as he slams his cock deeper with each thrust. You're at a loss for words as the pleasure intensifies, the coil in your stomach bubbling ferociously for the second time tonight. "Does he fuck you this good?" He can't stop himself, the words spluttering from his lips before he has a chance to stop them.

He's leaning a little further back now, his hand pressing against your belly slightly, feeling the motion of his cock sliding into you through your fucking skin. How he expects you to respond right now is beyond you, the only noise you can possibly muster being a high-pitched screech as his pace increases. "Huh?" He spits, spreading your legs wider, lowering slightly to delve his cock deeper into your cunt.

"No." It comes out as a mixture of a gasp and a moan, "Nobody fucks me like you do." A stupid wave of relief rushes over him as he hears you speak, the sound of your squelching walls suctioning him in parading through the room. Your assurance ignites something inside him, and you're surprised you can keep your eyes open long enough to see the transformation. He secures one of your legs around his waist, his hand holding your other open as he plants one of his knees firmly on the bed. He stares at your pussy in awe, watching your clit glisten with slickness before spitting harshly at it; his thumb reaching down to spread it over you. A choked sob leaves your lips at the action before an even louder scream cuts it off; you don't even recognize your own voice.

Jungkook is ravenous. His hips are pulling back at record speed, every inch of his cock sliding out of you until just the tip remains before slamming back inside brutally. "Oh my fucking god, Jungkook!" You screech as he hits that spot deep inside you on every thrust like he's been training for this his whole life.

"You fucking love it, don't you? This what you wanted?" He spits as his cock splits you in two, "You know I hate seeing people touch what's mine. Knew I'd fucking lose it."

"He never touched me. Wouldn't let him." You choke, your back lifting slightly as you feel him push in just that much deeper at your words, "I'm fucking yours, idiot."

Jungkook's hips stutter as your words catch him off guard, cracking his cocky persona for a millisecond before he recovers and grips the meat of your thighs even harder and drills back into you. You're fucking dripping at this point, and Jungkook groans at the feeling. His cock drags the juices out of your hole, and he watches as it slides down your ass, filthily pooling at the sheets beneath you.

You can't do anything but reach your hands out, and he understands immediately, releasing the hold on your legs before leaning down and falling into your arms. Your hands are on the back of his neck as you pull him closer, needing to feel his full weight on top of you in hopes of it taking some of the pressure off your abused cunt. He doesn't stop, even when his face falls to the side of your neck, plastering soft, wet kisses to your skin and pulling a soft moan from you.

Tears are welling in your eyes as he continues snapping his hips into you; the new position you're in means he's permanently in contact with your clit, and it's brutal. The room begins to spin as the familiar feeling coils in your stomach harder than you think it ever has. "I'm so fucking close," he heaves into your neck, and all you can respond with is a nod, the tears that pool at your waterline threatening to spill.

Your hands fall from his hair to his back, fingernails digging into his smooth skin as you try to cling to the last string of coherence you have, "cum in me, Gguk. Fill me up. Fill me." You moan, fingernails dragging down his back just how he likes it, and that's his fucking end. A low growl leaves his lips, goosebumps flooding your arms at the noise.

"Fuck." He curses loudly, hips pulling back in one final shaky thrust before he pushes all the way, your walls clenching tightly around him as he convulses, his release spilling from him and painting the walls of your cunt. He moans tenderly as you milk his cock, trying to pull every last drop of his orgasm from him.

Ten seconds or so pass while you both catch your breath, and you smile giddily beneath him; his heavy body feels comforting on top of you, like your own weighted blanket. You're ready to roll off the bed once he recovers, your hand drawing lazy circles across the expanse of his back before you hear him let out a deep, heaved breath. Lifting his hips back up, he ruts gently, resuming his movement inside of you. Your eyebrows furrow in shock, ignoring the burning feeling that immediately resurfaces as he shifts, "No, Jungkook, you don't have to—" He cuts you off with a kiss, hand reaching up to caress your cheek in a much softer manner than the majority of your night.

"When have I ever not let you cum?" He muses after breaking the kiss, his thumb slipping from the edge of your jaw to press against your lips. Your heart is beating at the fucking sweetheart above you, your lips parting slightly to take in the finger of his inked, calloused hand into your mouth. Your tongue swirls around it, gathering as much spit onto it as you can, just as he taught you, before using your tongue to push it out of your mouth. He smirks at the action, shaking his head as a train of saliva runs from his hand to your mouth. "Fucking filthy," Jungkook hums, his hand falling between you and connecting to your clit before the spit falls off his thumb.

Not that he needed the extra moisture, because you are fucking soaked, he flicks at your nub gently, satisfied as you shudder slightly at the contact. His overstimulated cock pulses inside you, the heat of your pussy making him release a strained breath before he pulls back out and begins to fuck you again. You can't even be shocked at his stamina at this point, many nights before having proven that he is fucking insatiable, pulling four of five orgasms out of you before turning in.

It doesn't take long before you're teetering on the edge of bliss again; the crude sounds of Jungkook's cum inside you, squelching around his cock as he slides in and out of you, are fucking erotic, arousing you even further. "Listen to thattttt," he groans at the noise, his overstimulation long forgotten as he gets lost in you again.

"Oh," you cry at his nasty words, "my shit. Shit. Shit. Shit!" You can't even form a sensible sentence, the pleasure becoming too much. Your back lifts off the bed slightly as Jungkook's hand follows your cunt when it tries to cower away. "God! Please!" You wail as his hand slips, the juices coming out of you causing his hand to slide around messily. He chuckles at the absolutely filthy sight; it's the best thing he's ever fucking seen.

"Good fucking girl. My gooood. Fucking. Girl." He praises as you grip his bedsheets in anguish, your body shaking, breath stuck in your throat as your head lifts toward the ceiling. Your mouth drops open as the band breaks, the tears that were sitting idle beneath your lashes finally spilling out, a loud sob spewing through your lips as you cum. Your orgasm is intense, ears ringing as Jungkook drags it out as much as he possibly can before you're shrivelling away, falling back into his mattress in exhaustion.

You groan lowly as Jungkook slowly pulls himself out of you, grabbing the shirt he discarded halfway through your activity off the floor and using it to capture the liquid that drools out of you. You giggle at the sight, swatting him with your foot as he wipes, "That's disgusting," you cry at his use of a dirty t-shirt to clean you up.

"It's clean! I chucked it on just before you came in," he assures with a smirk, continuing his action and ignoring the eye-roll you throw him. Then, suddenly, your eyes widen, and you all but scramble off his bed, diving for your clothes on the ground before shoving them over your head. He laughs softly at your haste before pulling his own sweatpants back on, minus the underwear. He's about to head to the shower, an invitation to you dangling on the tip of his tongue as he watches you fix your hair and makeup in his mirror. He watches in amusement as you manage to tame your hair but fail to fix the smudged eyeliner at the root of your waterline, giving up with a huff and looking over to him with a teasing glare, "This is your fault."

His shoulders rise slightly, and his mouth is pulled into a faux pout when you deliver a soft smack to his arm, making your way to his bedroom door. He turns to finally head into his ensuite and shower before your strangled gasp meets his ears. He spins around quickly, confusion coating his features before his eyes trail to what you're fixated on.

Taehyung is sitting on the couch, legs crossed beneath him, AirPods in his ears as he munches on a slice of pizza. Your brother looks up when he feels your presence and nods in greeting. Then, fishing one of the earbuds from his air, he waves the piece of the pie in his hand toward you. You're frozen in your spot, every word in your vocabulary flying out of your head as you're rendered speechless. Your brother pauses the show on his phone before swallowing his mouthful, "Pizza's here."

a/n: screaming!! so nervous about this, i've read my fair share of spicy stories over the yrs but writing it is really nerve-wracking! hope you liked it AHH

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