idkbutimgabby

[idkbutimgabby]

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[idkbutimgabby]

[idkbutimgabby]

i would LOVE to read your vision of boyfriend by dove cameron....... but w minsung x reader 😏

OH MARSYYYY marsyyyy ajdbkskfla youuu how dare youu take my sleep away from me like thisssss kabfoqbfoskj i barely got to 300 words and i was like “yup. there’s no fucking way i’m not writing this.” so @lyramundana @stayconnecteed, pasarla muy bien mis amores bskdbakd id a la iglesia después

𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐄-𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐒.

sum. gentlemen like them make for a better boyfriend, and minho and han will let you know as soon as you come over… they know first times pave the way for more.

yes, the cursive makes a cute lil sentence, kill me

wc. 5.6k (me cago en todo mars)

cw. suggestive, smut! cursive: a lifestyle, the restaurant scene came out really high-class? fem!reader x dom!simp!minho x sub!needy!jisung, the reader is cheating on her boyfriend, so many things happen (praise, degradation, hair pulling, thigh riding, dry humping, oral fixation, marking, mild choking, corruption kink, use of pet names, accidental orgasm denial, oral (f rec.), begging, fingering (f&m rec.) dirty talk, overstim, mild bondage, unprotected piv sex [don't!<3], creampie, breeding kink, dacryphilia). holy shit this is nasty man, aftercare (mandatory) and just have fun lovelies <3<3<3

[🎀 ☆ 🍽️ ☆ 🎀]

Minho has to breathe in, slowly as he smiles, a cat-like grin that has already threatened many people’s hearts, grabbing Jisung’s wrist and pulling him a bit closer.

His company that night —his company forever, if anyone bothered to ask or wanted to know— doesn’t ask why, merely tilts his head, watching, waiting.

“Twelve o’clock. Red and white dress.”

It’s a mumble that the older man makes with his eyes half closed, yet he opens them again after a beat of silence. He grunts, a low, whispered voice, not daring to interrupt the shy flow of music in the fine restaurant, but still takes Han’s chin in his hand, gripping it softly and tilting it a bit further to his left.

“That’s more like one o’clock— oh.” Minho doesn’t dare voice nor even question the way blood rushes to the deepest parts of his body when Jisung licks his lips and stares back at him, lowering his hand with a gentle touch that sets his skin ablaze.

He can’t help but let his eyes trail towards your figure again. The dress you’re wearing, a mix of colours that gingerly combines with that of their own suits, that clings to your shape in a way that threatens his own sanity and the stability of their plan, the impulse of running to you head first wondering what the crash would feel like. He stops himself, and breathes in again, deeper this time in an attempt to stop wondering how the dress would look just a few floors over them, in their hotel room, preferably on the floor, and he finally does, catching the faint scent of Jisung’s new cologne.

Alone. It’s funny to him. Ridiculous, yes, because only a fool would leave such a beauty like you in a situation like that —on your own, waiting in boredom close to death, or even worse, resignation—, and he’s sure that if he were in your place, he would’ve left a while ago. Hell, if he ever pulled something like that, he’d allow for Jisung to choke him —in a non-sexual sense, at least for once—, but he can’t help feeling giddy at the empty sight of the chair in front of you. Almost as if you were waiting for them to get close, to take a seat. And then, maybe you’d smile. Like a little treat.

A cute gift.

The image makes him smirk as he licks his lips. Minho knows he’d wrap you up in a heartbeat.

“What do you think?” He ponders the question lowly, still waiting for the waiter as the restaurant prepares their table. The one next to you, of course.

Jisung’s eyes widen for a moment. “What do I think?”

He gulps, and Minho reels in the way his boyfriend is already blushing, the red dust on his cheeks making him think twice and wonder if he could afford having a little snack before properly taking you both as a dessert, and he can’t help but snicker, tonguing his cheek.

“What are the chances?”

Minho’s fingers stroke Jisung’s palm.

“Well, I did as we agreed. And now the plan follows, jagi. I’m sure you can play your part now, mmh?” His voice is sultry, low, and a whisper, one that deepens Han’s blush and darkens his eyes even further, making his breath hitch to Minho’s amusement. “As if you can’t do whatever you want with that pretty little mouth of yours.”

“Min—”

“Welcome.” The whispered whine that Jisung had been just about to say dies on his lips, as tragically —yet not quite as brutally— as the unfortunate and inopportune waiter in Minho’s head.

“Your party for two is ready. Come with me.”

Shrugging away the comment ‘with you here, no one’s coming’, Minho follows behind Han and nods his head after being pointed to his table.

White-collar thieves could have plenty of money and exotic pairs of jewelry. Take any gemstone, for example. In unknown eyes, it may seem flawlessly perfect, but that’s merely a refracted illusion. Its core, deep in there, remains a secret, and it’d take a good crack for it to be seen.

No, this couple had it clear. A thief could steal anything but achieve nothing. And as Minho sends his partner in crime a wink, and the plan finally starts, its gears already set in place, he knows that whatever the outcome of it might end up being, nothing would give a better reward than trying to steal you tonight.

And it all starts with a silly trip of his boyfriend’s foot.

Jisung’s hand saves him from ending head first against your thighs —did he really save himself, Minho wonders, because the thought sounded like heaven—, and he watches as the younger one rushes back up, an apologetic grin on his face that he had seen so many times before and still made him want to kneel in front of Jisung and worship him to death and beyond.

“Sorry,” Ji smiles, bashful, his little dimples showing. He pretends to cringe, an action only Minho can see through.

“Oh, no, don’t worry. Are you alright?” The genuine worry that slips through your tone softens the men.

“Of course. Yes.” Jisung chimes right back. “Such a kind lady.” He grins, pulling his hand in front of him.

Minho is just watching, and the feeling of witnessing such a moment nearly has him bulging in his tailored pants as shy little Jisung kisses the back of your hand.

He can’t believe how obsessed they both are with you, enthralled at the mere thought of having you closer, and he doesn’t care, needing more, more of your confused smile as you stare at his boyfriend, more of the gentle blush that creeps up to your cheeks, more of the way your hair is neatly tied up and away from your face, feeling the impulse to ruin you on the tip of his fingers.

“What’s a place like this doing, surrounding a beauty such as yours?” Minho smiles, taking a seat at his table. Calm. Mindful. With the plan in his head.

You chuckle so politely that it makes Minho fidget with his rings, a laugh so melodic that tickles his heart and warms his insides.

“I stay in this hotel.” Minho knows. He’s seen you before.

“Alone?” Jisung smiles, a bit cheeky, sitting and moving his chair at an angle, making it easier to keep the conversation going.

The way you sigh makes them both angry and giddy. They had seen your partner before, and they almost couldn’t believe their eyes, genuinely wondering what had the ugly man done to deserve such an angel. If it were for them, not for too long.

“Up until twenty minutes ago, I wasn’t, but…”

Crystal clear. They both can see the resignation in your eyes, and Minho can’t help but feel it trail up his skin, needing to do something about it immediately.

“I know it may seem too straightforward,” his mouth is dry and he can feel his ears turning red. “But I wouldn’t mind the extra company tonight. Right, jagi?”

The smile he shoots at Jisung is soft and sweet, feelings conveyed between layers and layers worth of things he hasn’t said yet. A comforting grin that Ji matches, holding his hand from below the table and giving it a light squeeze, catching it.

“Yes. It’d be a pity, using that wonderful dress on such a dull night.” His boyfriend turns to you, smiling widely. “Join us?”

God, yes. The squirm of satisfaction that threatens to leave past his lips has him fidgeting with his fingers, cracking his knuckles in an oh-so-giddy attempt to hide just how excited he is when he sees you stand up and grin sheepishly, moving your chair and settling on their table.

If one tried and overthinked it too much, it wouldn’t work. People tend to feel those kinds of things, the rush, the nervousness, the desperation. Not attractive on a stranger in the slightest. And Minho knows he’s one lucky bastard just getting to sit with you at the same table, sharing sentences with Jisung across the rounded table with just a blink and a cheeky stare through his lashes.

And as the night goes on, sneaky glances, touches, soft hands over yours, their eyes deep in colour, on you as you wine and dine, the white-collar thieves swiftly steal your heart for the night.

A fever dream. You find no other way to word it, how they get under your skin and into your head, how their cheeky antics keep getting you closer and closer in a way that almost baffles you. You can’t even think about that sad excuse of a boyfriend you have when Jisung’s hand brushes your arm again or when Minho’s eyes lock on yours, almost undressing you under his gaze.

You couldn’t call it a red flag. After all, their collars are pure white.

[🎀 ☆ 🍽️ ☆ 🎀]

Jisung can’t hold back any longer.

He opens the door to their hotel room for you, and in an unrestrained need, grabs your wrist and finally pulls you to him.

Minho smirks, closing the door with a thud by leaning on it, watching as his boyfriend ruins and smears your lipstick, giving it just a bit before he pulls him from the back of his shirt, tutting at him.

“Such a needy little slut, mmh? Couldn’t even wait for me?”

His hands thread on Jisung’s hair, pulling in a way that has him already on edge. Minho takes his blazer off under the eager eyes of his company, and also takes Ji’s red one, leaving both on the couch that sits in the corner of the room as he licks his lips and takes his hands to his boyfriend’s neck, kissing him deeply, hungrily, humming a snicker when he feels his cheeky little hands tugging and pulling on his white shirt.

“Brat.” He whispers on his lips. “We have to treat our guest first, don’t we, jagi?”

Heat pools on your lower belly, disarmed as the two gorgeous, disheveled men stare at you with a glow in their eyes so deep it could fuck you alone. Both stare at the other with a sly grin on their faces, the phrases they want to say hidden behind the opacity of their eyes, clouded in lust.

Cheekily, Minho grabs Jisung by his belt, speaking at mere inches away from his lips.

“Be a good boy and hang on the door the do not disturb sign, mmh?” His eyes trail from Han’s neck, reeling on his heavy breathing and how his big brown eyes flutter when his hand teases him, tickling his skin with a brush of his fingers, doing tender and slow motions, opening the lower buttons on his shirt and going down his happy trail.

Jisung only nods weakly, in a daze as Minho lets go of him, blinking slowly and letting out a playful chuckle when he teasingly smacks his ass as he makes his way to the door.

“Now, what do we have here?”

Your throat feels dry and you yearn for the moment in which you’ll finally drown in Minho’s lips. He can tell, approaching you slowly, his steps barely making a sound on the carpet below.

His hands brush away the few hairs that Ji got loose, his hand traveling from the shell of your ear to just a bit after your pulse point. “Such a beauty.” Your heart swoons as he whispers, something that sounds more for him than for you, which does nothing but worsen the situation below your dress.

Licking your lips, you watch as he leisurely sits on the edge of the bed, two fingers teasingly making a ‘come hither’ motion as he spreads his legs, making space for you between them, his tailored clothing hugging his lush thighs in a way that nearly makes you salivate.

“I won’t bite, gorgeous. Not unless you want me to,” he teases, his hands stroking your knees while he sits just a short step or two away from you.

The sentence not only makes you shiver in anticipation, but also makes a small part of you wonder if there could be anything you wouldn’t let these men do to you. Dare I say non-existent, the list seems to be pretty short, as you nibble on your lip and answer to how he pats his thigh, taking a seat.

“There we go.” He grins with a low hum, his hands traveling far past the fabric that covers your thighs, grabbing and kneading the skin under his grasp. “Wonder how long it has passed since you’ve been treated right.” He clicks his tongue. “We have to do something about it, don’t we, jagi?”

He’s talking to Jisung as if you weren’t there. As if they’re taking you, a pretty diamond gingerly falling into their white-gloved hands, and —make no mistake—, you’re letting them, and it’s the end of the story, because you’d be a fool not to.

Besides, it’s already too late to back down. You want this. You couldn’t care less of what happens to your boyfriend after he left and scurried back wherever, attempting to leave you with the burden of paying for everything again without having to deal with the consequences nor the guts to face you. He was going to have a fun time, arriving at your previously shared room and finding that your things had been already packed and you were no longer anywhere to be seen, leaving behind you not only the bill of the restaurant —both his and yours, and then the one you had with Minho and Jisung, of course, an autograph on the receipt and all— but of the entire week you had been abroad, for all the times he had been tricking you and pulling your leg.

Tonight, you weren’t just being stolen. You were being freed.

“What makes you tick? Mmh, gorgeous?” Minho gets you back from your mind, naughty hands traveling underneath your dress and playing with the back ends of your underwear.

He’s dying to kiss you, and he will —he will die trying and he’d be happy to do so—, and he can see it in your eyes that you want just as much, the dark of his reading yours with an ease that does nothing but aggravate the situation, knowing that if he were to kiss you as he had been thinking —ever since he and Jisung had seen you and your boyfriend— would cause you more things than neither you nor him could process, leaving both of your minds blank, wet, legs tangled with one another.

Minho cherishes the way you tremble in his grasp, feeling Jisung’s hands surprise you from behind, playing with the zipper of your white and red dress.

“Baby, you’re already grinding on my thigh.” It’s teasing, it’s a menace, and he fucking loves it, seeing how said sentence darkens both your and Han’s eyes. “What are you thinking, mmh? Want us to figure you out as we go?” He licks his timidly swollen lips, his hands traveling down your legs to take your heels off, discarding the red sole shoes by the end of the bed.

He kisses Jisung over your shoulder, and a moan leaves your lips when said motion —him moving forward, that is— makes him tense his thigh underneath you.

“Jagi, do me a favour.” He whispers on his boyfriend’s lips, next to your ear, as if he’s telling Han a secret you shouldn’t know —but you don’t care whether you should or shouldn’t. You’re already going to hell for cheating on that low-life you call a boyfriend. Could be the wine speaking, or how your pussy is already leaking, but if you’re going to hell, you’ll make it so that these fine gentlemen help you reach heaven first.

“Ladies first, okay? Let’s treat her how a princess deserves.”

Jisung’s eyes smile as he bites Minho’s lip, finally taking your dress off of you, lowering the zipper in a way that his hand strokes your skin as the dress goes further down, and doesn’t stop kissing him, even when his greedy hands take the dress off your shoulders, and travel forward, tickling you menacingly, from your belly to your chest, teasingly playing with the little bow that decorates your white bra before letting his fingers go further up your cleavage.

Minho’s hands move your hips against his thigh, starting to feel the wetness and warmth not only on the fabric between his leg and your sweet sweet core, but on his skin.

He chuckles, panting on your ear as Jisung’s lips hungrily travel to your back, kissing and scratching with his teeth. A man blinded crazy by lust, his hand finally reaching your neck.

The way the action makes you moan is almost obscene, your cheeks as red as Jisung’s forgotten blazer and trousers. His grasp, gingerly cold, as if the rest of his warmth was traveling to other parts of his body —parts you weren’t complaining to be feeling against your lower back—, was a little bit over your collarbone, and it drove you wild.

“Hyung—” It’s a whine so desperate that nearly has him crumbling apart. Jisung’s eyes are teary when Minho’s lock into the dark brown full of lust that they have turned to. Merely pecking his lips, Minho smiles.

“I’m going to eat you alive.” It’s a desperate groan, and his partner’s eyes only glow in a darker shimmer, as if he yearned for just that. “Go on, jagi. Have fun.”

Before you can expect it, Jisung lets out a moan, grabbing your waist and pulling you from Minho onto the bed. Your impending release gets ruined, and you whine, your hand unconsciously traveling to your face.

As the younger one hurriedly finishes taking your dress off of you, discarding it somewhere on the floor —a view that, later on, would make Minho grin cheekily— said gentleman moves and lays down next to you while his partner leaves hickeys all over your inner thighs.

Only pants, whines, and moans leave your lips, low and dimmed, overwhelmed by all that you’re feeling, hiding behind your hand. But they’re gentlemen, after all. Ever-so-observant, Minho’s smile is sweet when he takes your hand and interlinks your fingers.

“Beauty,” he calls, his voice sultry. “Are you familiar with the traffic light system?”

It takes a shy, confused shake from you for him to tut at his boyfriend, and Han stops his antics, licking his lips, his eyes glowing as he strokes your thighs, gingerly comforting you out of your daze.

“Like a traffic light, yeah? Green for when you want to keep going, yellow when you want to slow down, and red if you want to stop.” His hand softly moves, trailing soft motions on your cheek. “Don’t wait for us to ask. If we’re playing the figure-it-out game, I want to hear you moaning ‘green’ every single minute. Good?” You blush, nodding. “So. Colour?”

You give it a thought. You’ve brought up things like this before to your boyfriend. Things he shamed you for. Things you had been wanting to do for a while. And as you stare back at Minho, his eyes widen for a moment when he sees you smirking lightly.

To hell and heaven with it. It had been a close call before, back at the hotel’s restaurant. It’s stupid now, and you can’t believe you almost ran away back to your room and wasted such a divinely given chance like this one.

“Green.” You smile. “Figure me out better than I know myself.”

Jisung’s mind is completely foggy and hazy, his hands kneading your thighs, waiting, panting at your sudden forwardness. He can barely form a coherent thought, his mind consumed by the need to keep going until your taste is all that he knows.

You lift yourself, sitting on the bed, as the focus of the two men’s attention while your hand reaches for Jisung’s chin, and he’s dead. He’s gotta be, because as he moves to keep feeling your soft grasp on him, he swears he stops breathing.

“I’m going to kiss you.” It’s an announcement. Not quite a question but a warning, a narration of sorts. It keeps Minho waiting for a movement, something, whatever, anything to be able to follow what they had started, surprised by the newfound shimmer in your eyes.

And you can only confirm the whole chain of unbridled thoughts that haunt you —that you want to devour them with kisses, that you would let them eat you whole, unashamed, unrestrained, and overly needy— when, after closing your eyes, you erase any space that was between your lips and Jisung’s.

It’s not the butterflies in your stomach, but your own pulse rumbling in your ears, so loud that you think that either of the two men to whom you knew crystal clear that you were going to give yourself to tonight could hear it without making any sort of effort.

Nasty, desperate, wild. Jisung is gone, set on making any trace of red lush lipstick disappear from your lips. He starts kissing you more passionately, taking both of his hands to your nape, pulling on your hair in an attempt to get you even closer to him, the need for oxygen merely a necessity far less important than to keep kissing you and lick away your strawberry lipstick.

“This is crazy,” you pant, gasping for air.

“You make me crazy.”

He’s breathless, and he just can’t stop kissing you. Not when you’re giving yourself back to him with almost the same intensity, the raw need for more overperforming any sort of kissing skills that Jisung thought he had before. Matter of fact, he can’t think. Not when his hands travel from your waist, your skin like a canvas he’d die to keep marking, trailing a teasing path up your back, making you shiver until he finally undoes the barrier that keeps him from touching, and finally tasting —licking, spitting, marking, fondling, kissing, biting, better if it’s all at the same time— your breasts. He swiftly takes your bra off of you, as if it burns. It would’ve made you laugh, but as he cages you against the mattress the only thing you can do is moan.

Yes. Yes. Yes, More. Please. Don’t stop.

There’s a light bounce of the mattress when Minho takes a seat behind you, and Han whines when you leave his lips.

You’re a mess. There’s no other way to describe it, and Minho loves it. He loves how you’re in between Jisung and him. How you’re drooling and moaning, your head leaning against his shoulder as greedy little Hannie goes back to where he was heading before. He loves how you’re not holding back anymore, your right hand pulling on his boyfriend’s hair and your right one on his nape, gingerly playing with it as you squirm under the pleasure that Ji’s mouth brings you.

“Beauty,” Minho’s voice is impossibly low when he calls for you, pressing soft, tender kisses on your pulse point. You whine, a strained ‘yeah?’ that kills him. “How do we feel about this?”

You open your eyes, not really aware when you had closed them, and you look at Minho’s soft hands, his rings shimering under the room’s indirect light. It’s a lace, your fuzzy brain tells you. It has the words Dior written several times on it.

“G-green…” it’s a whine, it’s slurry, and it turns to a hitched breath when Han’s fingers slide inside you with ease, curling and thrusting until you can’t do anything else but moan and whine, trembling as you come, pleasure hitting you in waves.

You cling onto Minho like a rock, as much as you can, his body behind you stroking you in a way that makes you shiver while Ji helps you ride out your high.

“Look at him, princess.”

His tone is slightly mean, and you sigh, feeling his arms surround you.

“He came just from tasting you.”

You’re still a bit out, panting, but your eyes turn to him, whose head is leaning on your thigh. One of your hands moves to stroke his hair, and you grow hotter watching how he shudders for a second.

“He was grinding against the mattress. Like a little horny slut.”

It’s shameful. Minho’s tone is one for mocking. He’s… torturing him. And yet he looks like he might just come one more time from that alone.

“M-min…” Hannie whimpers, a slurred sound of pleasure.

“Oh, beauty. He even wants more.” Jisung’s eyes open, staring at you two from below, and he moans.

You blink, but slowly, you seem to get it. Or, if you asked Jisung, you were a godess sent straight-out from heaven.

“But can he… beg like a… a pretty slut?”

Minho nearly comes untouched at your tone. The way they’re already corrupting you, how you’re degrading Jisung already, watching how he’s unconciously grinding against the mattress again, overstimulating himself.

“Ngh, fuck… p-princess…” his hands travel to your thighs, clinging to them like a lifeline.

You’re unsure of what to do, because you know what to say, holding back for a second.

“Beauty,” Minho kisses your neck. “What’s that brain of you thinking, mmh?”

Your blush covers your whole face, and you smile, as if you’ve been caught on a white lie.

“I… want to, um. Want you to do to him what you did to me.”

Jisung freezes in his place. Minho’s eyes darken. “Keep talking, beauty. Spare no detail.”

Your shyness fades as you look at Ji’s face, reeling at how he moans softly, his body just a tiny bit spent, yet he’s paying close attention to you and your words, not wanting to stop even for a second. The intensity of his stare makes heat hit you, unexpected yet welcomed. 

And with hooded eyes and weak legs, you turn to face both Minho and Jisung, letting go of what you’re thinking without giving yourself the chance to second guess it. 

“I want you to finger him. While you fuck me. And then I want him to fuck me.” 

Perplexed. There are little to no words Minho can manage to say, if any. He knows that he’s a sentence away from losing himself completely to the sensation, your mind and body now completely under the control of the aphrodisiac that is their company and undivided attention, and the intense pleasure it induces. 

“Hyung.” Han’s eyes are teary, and he looks so pretty. 

Why would Minho resist?

He takes you by your wrists and pulls you towards him, kissing you in a way that makes your mind and body completely submissive and compliant. There it is. Minho is finally kissing you, claiming you with each stroke of his tongue. And now he holds no restraint, his hands exploring your body, his touch becoming more urgent and passionate with each moan that goes past your swollen, kissable lips. 

His body presses even harder against yours, pinning you against the mattress as he kisses you deeply, his lips and tongue tracing a path down your neck, his breath hot against your skin. Minho bites down gently on the sensitive skin of your collarbone, his hands gripping your hips, holding you in place as he continues his assault on your senses, his desire for you growing more and more intense.

He moans softly into the kiss, his hands wandering along your body, his touch hungry, as if he couldn't get enough of you —and he can’t, he’s well aware that you might be his last meal, and he’d be happy about it— grabbing and marking and touching all he can reach. He breaks the kiss briefly, his lips trailing down your jaw and neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses against your sensitive skin as he pants heavily, his voice low and hoarse with desire.

"You're driving me crazy, beauty," he murmurs, his voice gravelly with lust. "Can't get enough."

“Minho, please,” you whine and beg, shivering when he stands on his knees, looking at you from above, a dark, nasty shimmer in his eyes. 

He pushes Jisung next to you, face down ass up, which only makes the latter moan, desperate to be touched again. 

“You know what, beauty?” Minho grins, mad, crazy, horny, and all of the above, as he takes back the Dior lace and softly moves your hands over your head, making a pretty bow on your wrists, almost as pretty as his needy princess. He’s thankful Jisung wanted to buy that perfume. 

“I’m going to fuck you. Because you want to, don’t you, beauty?” His snicker brings heat to your whole body, and it hits you where you’re restrained, Minho’s hands pinching and teasing all over your torso, watching you crumble and whimper underneath him. “And I’m going to make him come too. You two want to be used like little toys, and it’s just what I’m about to do.” 

He bends down to reach for the lube in the bedside table, but uses that opportunity to meanily bite your cheek. It feels warm under his tongue, the skin red, not only from the teasing bite but from how deep you’re blushing. 

Minho keeps talking while he slowly removes your ruined panties and Jisung’s soiled underwear. 

“I’ll fuck you so good, beauty. So good you won’t ever feel the same, if you fuck that scum you call a boyfriend. I’ll make you come so hard you won’t even remember his name.” 

You don’t know what happens first, but surely, Jisung and you start whining and moaning, panting as Minho fails to keep a steady pace on both of you, his thrusts irregular as pleasure takes hold of him. 

He’s reeling in pleasure, whispering into your ear in between moans and grunts how good you feel, how tight your pretty little pussy clenches around him, how you’re going to milk him dry as he keeps pouncing on you. “If y-you, ever, ever, ever doubt who you belong to…” he moans, watching you cry in pleasure, listening to Hannie’s slurred babbling, failing to get a good grip on the bed sheets. “Remember… that you can always come back… princess…”

After all, his duty as a thief wasn’t only stealing. He wasn’t going to complain when he’d kill for you to sit on his face. Just for starters. 

It doesn’t take long for Jisung to come on his own palm, shivering in pleasure, panting, but smiling at you, and —with his other hand— grabbing yours while you moan and whine and whimper, so close once again. 

T-too much— Don’t stop. Yes, yes, please!

Moaning so beautifully, Minho crumbles. His words are slurred as he whines, something about filling you up that makes you see stars as he somehow thrusts even deeper.

“There, there, ah… f-fuck, I can’t…” 

Dazed, fucked-out, drunk and lost in pleasure, you’re only able to let out louder sounds, tugging at your restraint as the Dior bow keeps you grounded, and Jisung’s now clean hand —you missed when that happened, yet you’re not bothered enough to question it— presses figure eights on your clit. And not even a minute later, you’re both gasping and moaning, and you throw your head back as he comes inside of you. 

It takes a moment for the three of you to move. For a minute, the world stops spinning, and you relish the warmth of his bodies, next and over you, your head still fuzzy with pleasure. 

You and Minho whine when he pulls out, and you shiver at the loss of heat over you and the emptiness inside you. Jisung is quick to fix the first one, softly moving your head over to his shoulder, and he leans his chin over yours. 

“Hey, princess.” He still has a red hue on his cheeks, but you’re pretty sure you’re matching, if not worse. 

You hum, weak, and he can’t help but giggle. His soft hands cradle your face, and he sighs, stroking your nose with his tenderly. 

“I’m really happy you joined us tonight.” 

And with the strength you have left, you merely move to kiss his palm, your eyes closed. They remain closed when Minho comes back, even when he softly moves your arms and links them behind his nape. 

Han heads into the bathroom first, making sure the water of the bathtub is warm enough before sliding inside, helping Minho put you down, leaning your head against Ji’s shoulder and in between his legs. 

You’re half asleep, but you smile when Minho’s hands stroke your legs. Your legs feel sore and you’re a blink away from the best sleep of your life, but first, the best night of your life makes sure to take care of you after all the fun. 

Two pairs of hands clean up the mess they turned you to, and you’re so happy to be taken care of as sweetly and as gently as they are doing, that you weakly peck Minho and Jisung’s lips. 

No words are needed, and Jisung hugs you from behind, pressing soft kisses on your shoulder blades. Minho links his hand with yours, fondly staring at the two of you before him. 

Thieves like Han and Minho are masters in their craft. With professional care, they dry your body, tender touches fully lulling you to sleep when Jisung grabs one of the discarded white-collared shirts and gingerly closes its buttons. Bathed, spent, and tired, they settle you in between them, with your back to Minho, and Jisung kisses his boyfriend’s hand, covering all of you with the bed’s blanket. 

Sure, maybe you didn’t do all that you wanted that night. But you don’t mind it. Warm, clean, and thoroughly satisfied, you’re fine with the need that hits you even after you wake up. You want to be theirs so much, and despite the estrangement, it’s a fact that doesn’t change —not even after it dawns on you that neither you nor them introduced themselves, and you don’t know their names.

[🎀 ☆ 🍽️ ☆ 🎀]

kats, who needs a high —infinite, even— dose of grass, stat.

catiuskaa, august 2024 ©

[idkbutimgabby]

this is true love

this is what they mean by hell’s kitchen btw

[idkbutimgabby]

don't cry over spilled milk ・l.f.

🌸 — felix who both teaches both you and your daughter "accidents happen" when she spills her sippy cup on his new rug.

🍼 — paring・dad!felix x mom!reader // genres・ hurt&comfort, angst, fluff // words・1.4k // warnings・abuse is a very heavy subtext in the readers reaction specifically fear of fathers, a pretty heavy panic attack, talks about trauma, pain, wounds and everything that goes along with that. felix is the most sickeningly sweet man alive in this.

a/n・ i recently got a notification that somebody reblogged this original story that i posted on my old blog last year around this time and i physically cringed because it was...so..bad...i'm in pain. i used so many words wrong like i used the word obscene in a sentence?? it was meant to be a happy sentence?? what was i thinking?? anyways haha i like this version a lot more and i hope you do too!! (am i off of hiatus? maybe? will probably drop off the plant for a little bit longer??) is this any better idk i'm anxious and sleep deprived so probably not

There was little validity to the statement—don’t cry over spilled milk—when your one-year-old just dumped her entire sippy cup on your husband's new six-hundred-dollar rug. There weren't enough adjectives in the English language to describe the horror that washed over you as the milk turned into a bright white stain atop the black furnishing.

It was completely irrational, you were fully aware of that, but the anxiety that coiled underneath your ribs and encased your lungs still persisted. You took a deep breath, desperately shoving away the memories that flickered underneath your clenched eyelids like a dying candle's rebirth. 

Your father, ever the perfectionist, never would have let something like this slide. Felix wasn’t like that. Felix was a good father, a gentle father. Lee Felix would never even utter the word—spanking—around your kid let alone act on such a thing; but as your trembling fingers pick up the sippy cup, cold, hard doubt pierces you.

The world swirls around you as you stumble towards the kitchen, cup clattering into a dirty sink. You worked through this. Damn it, you did! All of that was over. This was different. Felix was different. A broken cycle, a generational curse drowned in love and care. 

Then, why couldn’t you take a fucking b r e a t h?

Your clammy palms gripped the sink until your knuckles turned white. Until Ha-Yun stopped babbling in the corner and throwing cheerios onto the ground. Until you heard the deafening sound of your keypad—click, click, clicking. 

The door opened, and there’s this moment where the world is entirely watercolor. His gaze catches yours, and as he slowly sets his coat onto the arm of the couch, all you can see is your father. “Y/N?”

How could you have been so stupid? How could you have let him see what happened? It was still there because stains don’t magically go away, and spilled milk was something worth crying over. This was all your fault. 

You don’t dare look at him as you drop to your knees beside Ha-Yun, scrubbing at the white. It wasn’t coming off. It wasn’t coming off. You scrub harder, scrub until your knuckles burn and the tears drip down your neck. It still wasn’t coming off. 

“I’m sorry,” your voice cracks. “I’ll get it up. I’ll clean it right now, please just go take a shower. I’ll deal with Ha-Yun after. Please, j-just i-it’s fine, e-everything's f-fine—” You were not fine. It showed in the way your spine arched and trembled as Felix grew near. It showed when he curled his pointer finger around your chin, and gently eased your eyes up. It showed in the way, for a split second, you looked like you were five all over again, naive and terrified. 

Felix gasps, the sound soft and broken, and then, without a second thought, he drops to the floor and pulls you onto his lap, curling his arms protectively around your quivering figure. He didn’t say anything, he didn’t need to, his body said it all. 

He pressed his lips atop the crown of your head over and over, and you could finally breathe again, filling your lungs with the scent of his cologne and his sweet, sweet love for you. His love—the kind you had only dreamed of before him and knew you could never find again. Lee Felix was everything to you. 

He rocked you back and forth, brushing your hair out of your face to flash you a calming, comforting smile. “Wanna tell me what happened?” You must look like a wreck—face blotchy and red, snot dripping down your nose, tears straining your cheeks—and yet, he’s still looking at you like you’re the most beautiful woman he’s ever laid eyes on. 

Your face heats up and you bury your nose into his shirt, giving a small shake of the head. You were still dizzy from your panic attack and the thought of opening up was enough to make your stomach turn all over again. “No…I’m sorry”

Felix wasn’t oblivious to your past, if anything he helped you through many hard days, but you had never been this vulnerable with him quite yet. You thought you’d already gotten over it, but clearly, some wounds never heal. You would beat yourself up over it a lot. There were nights where you stayed with Felix at the kitchen table until sunrise, working through your issues. You hated yourself for how quickly you could unravel or how, even unto death, your father haunted your life. 

You were convinced that your past was something you should hide, and frankly, he thought that was bullshit. Felix would kiss every pain and doubt until all that you remembered about your scars was his love and the feeling of his lips. 

He’s still working on that father wound, though. He had a feeling he’d be working on that one for a while. 

Ha-Yun had other plans when she nailed Felix in the forehead with one of her cheerios, reminding them both that they had a life to live outside this little bubble. He would hold you until the sun set, but he had a baby and a mess on the carpet that would be ten times harder to clean if he left it sitting. 

“I’ll go get a towel,” You say, putting up those walls again as you brave face, sending Ha-Yun a dazzling smile that makes her laugh and smack her highchair in joy. Felix is having none of it. 

He ignores your protests when he scoops you up, cupping the backs of your knees and laying you onto the couch with a soft “oof.” You pout, crossing your arms like a petulant toddler. “Let me help you.” 

Felix kisses you once more, effectively shutting you up before pulling away with a mischievous grin. “You’re going to sit there and look pretty, okay?” 

He doesn’t wait for your stubborn refusals, he’s already heading to the kitchen, ripping off some paper towels and tossing them onto the mess before pulling Ha-Yun from her highchair. 

You jolt up, heart quicking instinctively. 

“I’m going to help her clean it up” Felix quickly reassures, voice kind and patient. “I’m going to teach her how to pick up a mess, that’s all. No pain and no punishment, I swear.” 

You slump back into the couch, a sigh of relief dispelling from your lungs, though you were still alert, eyes locked onto his every movement. Ha-Yun beams, all gummy and innocent joy as she spits incoherent nonsense that Felix pretends to understand very intently. 

“Is that right?” He gasps, setting her next to the spill. “You really, really wanna help me clean up your mess?” Ha-Yun’s face drops. She blinks, once, twice, before her entire face contorts into an absolutely devastating side eye. Felix’s jaw drops, and it takes him a solid twelve seconds to recover before he’s looking over at you and bursting out laughing. 

“You’ve got a lot of sass for a baby…probably got it from your mama,” His lip quirks up, glancing at you from the side to capture your reaction. 

You stop mid-laugh, offended,” Y’know what—” 

“—looking pretty.” He sings, interrupting you with a playful grin. You have to fight not to glare at him. Felix snickers before sobering up and placing his hands atop her tiny ones, gently guiding her to the layer of paper towels. “You made a mess, and that’s okay, but you’re going to have to clean it up now, okay.” The girl looks down at the mess, blinks, and you can see the gears turning in her head when she starts carefully moving her hands back and forth on the rug. 

“That’s it,” His voice is as warm as honey and as soft as silk, his eyes glow with pride and a fatherly smile spreads over his lips. “Accidents happen, Ha-Yun, you never grow out of them. You just gotta learn to clean them up.”

As you watch the scene unfold before you, you feel it from your head to your toes, the emotion that threatens to spill out of you. It was bliss, or perhaps something greater—something that tasted like contentment and the felt like his kisses sealing all your wounds shut. You weren’t healed yet, not even close, but as Felix said, accidents happen—you never grow out of them. 

And if he got to choose, he would hold your hand through every single one. 

[idkbutimgabby]

Skzoo dividers!

Finally stopped being lazy and made my own Skzoo dividers lol

Feel free to use them! Reblog if you do, thanks :)

[idkbutimgabby]

LEE KNOW — dominATE london (©minggijuc)

[idkbutimgabby]

Vet Visit

(Bang Chan x Vet!Reader)

Summary: During the second to last appointment during your shift, you wait patiently for the owner of a certain well behaved pup to pick her up. Instead of meeting the woman you usually do, you're met with the sight of another, rather frantic, individual.

Warnings: None <3

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: Ah! First fic on this acc! I'm sooooo excited to write more and had a lot of fun writing this one!

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The soft ticking of the clock fills the silence of the office as your fingers stroke the silky fur of the King Charles Cavalier in front of you. A soft smile graces your face as the Spaniel gazes up at you, her brown eyes meeting yours.

“Good girl, Berry.” You murmur to the dog whose head tilts, making you chuckle softly.

The rhythmic ticking of the clock grabs your attention again, its hands reading 5:28 pm, 28 minutes after the owner was supposed to be here.

A soft sigh escapes your lips as your hand mindlessly brushes her hair. Your last appointment of the day is scheduled for 7 seven minutes from now with a less-than-friendly owner and their sickly cat. Perhaps your coworker Isla can cover in here, you think, she does owe you a solid for covering for her last month.

But before you can move towards the door to grab Isla’s attention, it swings open and startles both you and the well behaved dog sitting on the veterinary table. Your focus then turns to the disheveled looking young man who turns to you, speaking quickly.

“I am so so sorry I’m late. My Mom dropped Berry off and is the one who normally picks her up, but something came up last minute and I came as soon as I could.”

A soft smile appears on your face as you see just how apologetic he truly is. Tension escapes your body as you let out a soft sigh and nod, accepting his apology.

“No harm, no foul.” You answer, removing your hand from the dog’s fur. Berry looks up at you in confusion, not understanding why you’ve stopped petting her.

“This was just a standard physical, right? Anything out of the ordinary?” He asks, forcing himself to relax, taking solace in your calm demeanor.

“Yup, this was just a standard physical and she’s completely healthy, Mr…” You trail off, realizing that you don’t know his name.

“Chris… uh Christopher Bang.” He answers, still a bit frazzled.

“Mr. Bang, right.” You smile softly and nod, recognizing that last name. Reaching over for the clipboard on the side, you continue. “Yeah, she’s great, healthy weight of 15.8 pounds with a temp of 100.3. We saw no indication of any parasites such as heartworm. She’s also up to date with her vaccines so we obviously didn’t need to administer any today.”

He nods, standing next to Berry, who waits patiently on the veterinary table. He pets the pup to keep her calm, but he’s more than likely trying to soothe himself.

“Right, okay.”

“I do just want to let you know that the Cavalier Spaniel is predisposed to mitral valve disease, which is a form of heart disease; with that being said I don’t want you to worry too much as she is a very healthy and happy pup and I can tell that there’s not much stress on her cardiovascular system.” You add.

“Thank you so much.” He breathes a sigh of relief, nodding again as he looks down at the brown and white dog, her tail wagging. “And I… listen I am truly so sorry again for being as late as I am. Is there… any way for me to make it up to you? Maybe a coffee or something?”

Butterflies fill your tummy at his offer, though you wish they didn’t. You know his mother well, talking to her a lot during her visits, especially when Berry ate something she shouldn’t have last year leading to multiple visits. It feels wrong having a thing for her eldest son, but his sincere offer and small, almost shy smile, draw you in. His inviting chocolate eyes dare you to accept his proposal.

Yet before you can properly accept, your gaze lifts to the clock, the hands showing 5:33 pm. Only two minutes to your next appointment, and you know the wrath you’ll face if you’re even a second behind schedule. This specific client is particularly unforgiving.

“Oh sh-” You catch yourself, eyes widening. Taking a second to compose yourself, you look back at the confused man in front of you.

“Uh, I’m so sorry I just realized I’ve another appointment in about a minute with a rather demanding client.” You explain, words flying from your lips. “Hopefully we can meet up one day for coffee. Have a good one!”

Logging off of the computer and grabbing your clipboard, you get ready to dash to the other room.

He quickly speaks up before you manage to rush off, “How do you take your coffee, at least?”

Without thinking, you rattle off your standard order quickly “Large iced mocha with salted caramel syrup, 2% milk, and like two or three sweetener packets. I order from the New Sunrise down the street. Have a great day!”

As you hurry past him, he stands there with a wide grin on his face. He looks down at the calm Berry resting against his chest who is unaware of the butterflies fluttering and swarming in his tummy.

~

The next morning is one mishap after another. First, your alarm went off in silence as you forgot to turn your volume back on from yesterday’s shift. After waking up 30 minutes late, you find your coffee machine is shot and you need a new one. Then when getting dressed, you find you have no clean socks. Finally, when you drive over to grab some coffee, only 10 minutes from when you’re supposed to clock in and there being a six minute drive to your workplace, you find the line is far too long.

With tears pricking your eyes at the rough morning you’re having, and now the lack of coffee, you blink them away and drive off. Taking a deep sigh and heading into work, your large blue 32 oz water bottle hangs limply from your pinky finger.

When your coworker Jen sees you she smirks, straightening in her seat at the reception desk.

“So,” She starts, resting her head on her fist, “who’s the hunk?”

“What are you talking about?” Your raspy voice asks, bleary eyes meeting hers.

“Muscular guy came in and left a coffee for you.” She answers, looking back at the computer in front of her. “Left a note too.”

Stopping right in your tracks, you look back at her, blinking a few times. You had completely forgotten about his offer, and even then only half-jokingly told him your coffee order, certainly not expecting him to carry it out.

“Coffee?” Your meek voice responds.

A soft chuckle escapes her lips as she nods, not looking away from the screen as she types. “It’s in the fridge in the break room.”

Sleepy and in desperate need of a morning pick-me-up, you don’t hesitate to turn and head towards the break room. Inside, you find another coworker whom everyone treats as the mom of the office, Delilah.

Hearing your footsteps, she turns her head towards you, in the middle of pouring herself a cup of coffee. “Morning.” Her cheery voice greets as she turns her attention back to her mug. “Word on the street is that a handsome lad dropped off a coffee and note for ya earlier.”

A soft chuckle escapes your lips as you open the fridge and, sure enough, on the middle shelf a large iced mocha is waiting with your name on it. The smile on your face grows as you reach in, grabbing the cup as its nestled between a bowl of salad and container holding two vegetable wraps.

“Note’s over here for you if you’re wondering.” She adds, finally turning around and leaning on the counter behind her, both hands wrapped around a steaming mug. “Hope you don’t mind, I sneaked a little look.”

Taking a sip of your coffee, a relaxed sigh escapes your lips. This is exactly how you take your coffee, not an ounce sweeter or stronger. Both of your hands clasp around the cup as you take a second to regulate yourself before walking over.

“Don’t mind at all.” You reply as you walk over next to where she stands in front of the coffee pot.

Your eyes trail down the neatly written words on the wide ruled notebook paper, smile only growing.

‘Morning! Sorry again for being late yesterday. Hope your next client wasn’t too demanding… or her owner! Haha. Anyway, here’s my thanks for taking great care of Berry and for your patience and kindness. Maybe next time we can actually do something in person? If you’re interested, here’s my number. Thank you again. ~Chris’

Biting your lip, your eyes flick down to the numbers on the bottom of the page, knowing for sure you’re going to be adding him to your contacts and maybe even taking him up on a real coffee date the next time around.

Delilah watches your face, her eyes carefully scanning every twitch and wrinkle. She’s a woman in her 60’s, having celebrated her 30th anniversary with her husband only last month. Watching you now makes her heart sing, she remembers being your age, knows that twinkle in your eye, the initial spark of interest, something blooming.

“Enjoy your coffee, love.” She finally says, breaking you from your trance as she stands and walks towards the door. “Remember, we have that luncheon today.”

“Righto.” You answer, but your mind can only focus on Chris; his sweet gesture, note, and the future rife with possibility. Your fatigue melts away, leaving only a giddy excitement and the fluttering wings of the butterflies that refuse to leave.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*

Thank you so much for reading! Let me know if you want a part two and/or if you have any requests!

[idkbutimgabby]

the hug!!! © Mailys.L

[idkbutimgabby]

G o o d G i r l , S t a y A l i v e .

Kim Seungmin x Reader | undercover guard, filthy praise, overstim, creampie, “you’re mine” energy

🔞synopsis: Squid Games AU. Seungmin isn’t just another player. Too smart, too lucky, too focused on keeping you alive to be innocent. And when he shows up in a stolen guard uniform, drags you into a camera-dead storage room, and fucks you like he’s been holding back for weeks? Yeah. He’s breaking every rule—and he doesn’t care. You’re his. You’re staying alive. And when he gets you out of here? He’ll tell you everything.

💌a/n: OKAY LISTEN. I’VE BEEN TEASING A SQUID GAMES AU FOR A FEW TIMES NOW, AND... idk if you expected it or not, but SURPRISE. Here it is. Guard-uniform Seungmin. Detective brain. Filthy mouth. Overstimulation in a storage room. Yeah. I will not be revealing what each member’s role is just yet (👀 you’ll find out later, I promise), but for now, enjoy this feral little… thing. I really do hope you enjoy??? like actually. I had way too much fun writing Seungmin losing his mind over you. He’s supposed to be undercover and he’s acting like this. Zero self-control, 10/10 choices. p.s. REBLOGS AND COMMENTS FEED ME. do it. i’m watching. p.p.s. i wrote the overstim part grinning like a lunatic, you’re welcome p.p.p.s. i go eepy now 💋🦇

⚠️ warnings: 18+ | MINORS DNI | P in V smut – unprotected, creampie (wrap it up sluts) | Overstimulation (multiple orgasms) | Rough sex / Feral pace | Semi-public setting (risk of getting caught) | Spanking (ass slapping) | Manhandling | Marking (biting, hickeys) | Possessive!Seungmin / soft protectiveness after | Dom!Seungmin | Slight power imbalance (he’s undercover, you’re a player, but fully consensual)

📌 Read responsibly. Hydrate. Stretch. Seungmin’s undercover, you’re overstimmed—don’t cramp up.

📍credits: dividers by @cafekitsune

You hadn’t come here to win.

Well—okay, that’s a lie. Everyone had technically come to win. 45.6 billion won could solve everything. But unlike the other players, you weren’t in mountains of debt, weren’t wanted by loan sharks, weren’t running from gang collectors.

You were here because you were stupid.

One bad bet, one forged signature for someone else’s crime, and suddenly the choice had been simple: prison or this.

So you signed, and now you were here—dressed in a teal tracksuit, standing shoulder to shoulder with terrified strangers under fluorescent lights, the air reeking of sweat, metal, and fear.

He didn’t fit here.

You noticed him immediately, though you didn’t know why at first. Maybe it was his posture—straight-backed, relaxed, completely unbothered while everyone else trembled. Or maybe it was his eyes: sharp, scanning the room like he was memorizing everyone’s faces.

Seungmin looked like a man who wasn’t gambling his life; he looked like a man working.

Which, of course, was exactly what he was.

Kim Seungmin was a detective. One of the only insiders who’d successfully slipped into the games as a player, his real job wasn’t to win—it was to gather evidence, memorize guard patterns, and, if possible, expose the entire operation.

But you didn’t know that yet.

To you, he was just the infuriatingly calm guy sitting cross-legged on the dorm floor, chewing a stale rice cracker like this was some kind of field trip. When you caught him watching you that first night, he’d simply tilted his head, smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You didn’t know then that he’d already memorized your name, your stats, your file. Or that he’d quietly decided to keep you alive.

For now.

The sun was blindingly bright.

It wasn’t real—you could tell by the way the painted clouds didn’t move, by how the heat didn’t burn your skin—but it still made you squint as you stepped into the giant outdoor arena. The massive animatronic doll loomed ahead, its mechanical head twitching as it scanned the sea of trembling players.

“Green Light.”

The mechanical sing-song voice echoed, and the crowd lurched forward.

Your heart pounded as you tried to time your steps with the others.

“Red Light.”

Everyone froze. Someone to your left moved a fraction of an inch too far—

BANG.

Blood sprayed the fake grass. Screams rippled through the crowd. You swallowed bile, body locked stiff, legs trembling as the doll scanned again.

“Green Light.”

Move. Move. Move.

You weren’t fast, but you weren’t terrible either. By halfway through the course, your breathing was ragged, your legs shaking. Every “Red Light” felt like a death sentence. And then, of course, it happened. A panicked player shoved into you from behind just as the doll’s head began to turn. You stumbled forward, arms flailing, a strangled noise catching in your throat—

—and a hand snapped around the back of your tracksuit, yanking you backward so hard you slammed into someone’s chest.

Your body went rigid, pressed against them as the doll scanned.

Silence. No gunshot.

“Green Light.”

The grip on your tracksuit didn’t loosen until the doll turned away again. You whipped around, heart hammering, and found him.

Seungmin.

Standing close, casual, like he hadn’t just saved your life. His expression was maddeningly calm, but there was the faintest hint of amusement in his dark eyes.

“You—” you hissed, voice cracking.

His mouth curved into the smallest, cockiest smirk. “You owe me for that.” And then he moved past you like nothing had happened, hands tucked into his pockets, as if saving your life was just… part of the game for him.

You stared after him, furious and—annoyingly—shaken. And there was one thing you had realized in that moment, and that was that Kim Seungmin wasn't just lucky. He was in fact too good at this. Suspiciously good.

The dorm smelled like sweat and stale food. The air was thick, humid with too many people crammed together, and the constant whispering set your nerves on edge. You sat cross-legged on the hard floor, poking at the lump of bread in your hands, trying not to look at the pile of corpses that had grown since day one.

Across the room, Seungmin sat like he owned the place. Back against the wall, long legs stretched out, that same calm, infuriatingly smug look plastered on his face.

Of course, he caught you staring.

He tilted his head slightly, that lazy smirk forming like it was second nature. “You’re staring again.”

You glared. “I’m staring because you’re shady as hell.”

That earned you a quiet chuckle. Not the nervous, broken laughs you’d heard from other players—no, Seungmin’s was soft, sharp, like he actually found you funny. He leaned his head back against the wall, still watching you. “Shady? Or just better at surviving than you?”

You tossed a crumb of bread at him. He didn’t even flinch as it hit his tracksuit.

“Nobody’s that good. Not unless…” you lowered your voice, leaning forward, “…you’re cheating.”

A beat of silence.

Then, that smile. That smile—the one that made your stomach twist. “And if I am?” he murmured, voice low enough that only you could hear. “What are you gonna do? Tell someone?”

Your mouth went dry. Because you weren’t stupid. If you did call him out and he really was cheating, you’d be dead before you got the words out.

He saw the hesitation flicker across your face and his smirk widened. Seungmin pushed off the wall, standing fluidly. You tensed as he walked straight over to you, crouching down until he was eye-level.

Too close. Way too close.

His knee brushed yours, deliberately, and his voice dropped to a whisper. “You’re alive because of me.” His gaze dragged over your face, unreadable but hot, the weight of it making your pulse stutter. “Maybe you should… be grateful.”

You scoffed, trying to sound braver than you felt. “You sound like you’re asking for a thank-you card.”

His smirk turned wicked. “Not a card. Something better.”

You froze.

He leaned in closer, lips almost brushing your ear, and whispered: “Be good for me, and maybe I’ll keep saving you.” And then, just like that, he stood and walked back to his corner, leaving you sitting there flushed and furious.

You weren’t supposed to still be alive. At least, not by your own rules. You’d been paired against an older man, and the moment you saw Seungmin across the yard, you knew. He’d thrown you a look, subtle but unmistakable, right before your opponent tripped and lost his last marble.

You won.

Seungmin had rigged it. But you didn’t thank him. You didn’t even look at him. Because you hadn’t played fair. Because someone else had died for you.

That night, you sat cross-legged in your corner of the dorm, back to the wall, trying not to cry as the lights flickered out.

Everyone else was silent. Too many players had died today. But you felt his eyes on you. You didn’t look up.

It was hours later when it happened. You’d just started to drift off when a hand clamped around your wrist, tugging you up so fast you nearly gasped.

“Shh.”

You barely had time to register the voice before Seungmin dragged you into the shadows, behind the stacked supply crates near the far wall. The second you opened your mouth, his hand was over it, pressing you back against the cold metal.

His eyes glinted in the faint light, sharp, angry.

“What the hell was that today?” His voice was low, controlled, but you could hear the tension under it.

You shoved at his chest, muffled against his palm. He didn’t move. When he finally let you speak, you hissed, “What do you mean ‘what the hell’? I played the game.”

“No,” he growled, leaning closer, “you almost lost on purpose. I watched you.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but he cut you off.

“Do you want to die that badly? Or are you just stupid?”

Your anger flared. “Maybe I don’t want to win by cheating—”

His laugh was sharp, humourless. “Newsflash, sweetheart: everyone here is cheating. The only difference is, I’m better at it.”

You glared, chest rising and falling fast. “Then stop saving me.”

For a second, he just stared at you. Then his jaw tightened, and something shifted in his expression—anger, frustration, something darker. “You think I can do that?” he said quietly, almost to himself.

You froze.

Seungmin braced one hand against the crate beside your head, leaning in until his breath brushed your ear. “You’ve been distracting me since the first day.” His voice dropped, rougher now. “I’m supposed to be focused on winning, on getting out of here, but every time you almost die—” His other hand gripped your hip suddenly, pulling you flush against him, “—all I can think about is keeping you alive.”

Your breath hitched, heat pooling low in your stomach. “Seungmin—”

His name barely left your lips before his mouth was on yours. The kiss was rough, nothing careful about it. Teeth clashing, his hand still gripping your hip hard enough to bruise. You gasped into his mouth, and his tongue slid against yours, hungry, desperate.

“Quiet,” he muttered against your lips, dragging his mouth down to your jaw, your neck. “You don’t want them to hear you, do you?”

His hand slid under your shirt, fingers tracing your skin like he was memorizing it. When you arched into him, he smirked against your throat. “That’s it. Be good for me.”

His hand slid lower, teasing the waistband of your tracksuit pants. You stiffened, breath catching, and his smirk deepened against your throat. “Relax.” His voice was low, rough—dangerous. “You’ve wanted this as much as I have.”

Your heart was pounding, heat curling through your stomach, but you still whispered, “Seungmin, we can’t—”

His laugh was quiet, almost cruel. “We can. We shouldn’t… but we will.”

And then his hand slipped under the waistband, warm fingers brushing over your panties. You gasped, body jerking, and his other hand instantly clamped over your mouth. “Shhh,” he breathed against your ear, hips pressing closer, his cock hard against your thigh through his pants. “You don’t want them to wake up, do you? You don’t want them to know how good I’m about to make you feel?”

Your muffled protest died in your throat when his fingers pressed against your clothed core, rubbing slow, teasing circles. He chuckled softly when he felt how wet you were. “Already dripping for me? Fuck, you’re worse than I thought.”

You glared at him through hazy eyes, but the way your hips bucked into his hand betrayed you. Seungmin hummed, sliding his fingers under your panties now, touching you directly. The first stroke of his fingers against your folds had you biting down on his palm to keep from crying out.

“Good girl,” he whispered, kissing along your jaw as his fingers slipped between your folds, collecting your slick. “Take it for me. Just like that.”

His movements were slow at first, two fingers stroking you lazily, making you squirm. He was enjoying this too much, and you could feel it in the way his body pressed closer, his breath warm against your ear. “Do you know how hard it’s been, watching you almost die every damn day?” His voice was harsher now, almost angry, his fingers curling inside you. “I have a job to do. I’m supposed to be focused. But you—”

He pressed his thumb to your clit, circling it until your legs trembled. “—you keep distracting me. Every time you look at me like that, I just want to ruin you.”

You whimpered against his hand, nails digging into his jacket.

“That’s it,” he groaned, speeding up, the wet sounds between you almost drowned out by your muffled gasps. “Be good for me. You owe me, remember? You’re alive because of me—so fuck, let me have this.”

Your thighs were shaking, your head tipping back against the crate, when his pace grew rougher. He was close to losing that perfect control, you could feel it in the way his breathing grew uneven.

“Say it,” he rasped, thumb flicking your clit harder. “Say you’re mine.”

You shook your head weakly, too far gone to speak, but his fingers didn’t stop.

“Say it, or I stop.” His tone was sharp, almost cruel, but the desperate edge in his voice betrayed him.

“I—” you gasped into his palm, eyes fluttering shut. “Yours—Seungmin, I’m yours—”

His groan was low, almost a growl, and his fingers worked you faster, relentless, until you broke under him. Your orgasm hit you hard, trembling against his hand, muffling your cries against his palm. Seungmin didn’t stop until you sagged against the crate, breathing heavy, thighs twitching.

When you finally caught your breath, he pulled his hand from your pants, slick fingers glistening faintly in the dim light.

You expected a smug comment, but instead, he gently tucked your shirt back into place, his other hand brushing your cheek, unexpectedly soft.

For a moment, his mask slipped, and you saw it—the worry he tried to hide. He leaned in close, voice barely a whisper. “Don’t die on me. Not after this.”

And before you could respond, he pressed one last soft kiss to your temple and melted back into the shadows like nothing had happened.

The Front Man however noticed. He noticed everything—the smallest hesitation, the slightest shift in routine—and Seungmin was starting to slip. First, it was the glances. Nothing overt, but enough that his sharp eyes caught it on the surveillance feeds: Seungmin sitting a fraction too close to you during meals, his gaze tracking you in every game.

Then came the “accidents.”

A guard found unconscious near the storage crates two nights ago. Security footage mysteriously corrupted. A missing uniform. The Front Man had reviewed the tapes himself. And tonight, as he stood in the observation room, watching the live feed from the dorms, his jaw tightened beneath the black mask.

There you were, sitting cross-legged on the floor, looking tired but alive. And just a few feet away, Seungmin—expression calm, too calm, his shoulder angled toward you like instinct.

His fingers tapped the armrest slowly. He turned his head slightly. “Square 7,” he addressed sharply.

The Square-Masked guard tensed. “Sir.”

“Keep an eye on Player 187,” He ordered, his gaze fixed on Seungmin’s calm figure on the screen. “He’s becoming… sloppy.”

The guard hesitated for only a fraction of a second before bowing his head. “Understood.”

But the Front Man wasn’t done. His tone dropped lower, dangerous. “If he becomes a liability… eliminate him.”

But the thing about Seungmin? He knew he was being watched. And he didn’t care anymore.

That night, the dorm was restless. Too many players had died in the last game, and everyone was on edge. The guards lined the walls in their usual silent formation, weapons at their sides.

But you noticed immediately. One of the guards stood differently—too relaxed, too casual. And when he shifted just slightly, you could see him staring at you.

You barely had time to process before he moved. He waited until lights-out, when the players started to doze in their corners, and then he stepped forward, his boots unnervingly silent for a guard. You kept your head down, pretending to sleep, but when his gloved hand suddenly clamped around your wrist, you nearly gasped. He didn’t speak, didn’t look at anyone else—just tugged you up smoothly, his body language so perfect no one dared question it.

The other guards didn’t even glance your way. And just like that, he led you out of the dorm, down a hallway he had inspected and made sure were no cameras and finally, into an empty storage room. The door door shutting behind you with a soft click.

The silence was deafening.

You backed up a step as the red-clad guard turned toward you, the black mask reflecting the faint overhead light. His presence felt different than the other guards.

You swallowed hard, your back hitting the wall. “Why did you bring me here?” you demanded, voice low but sharp.

The guard didn’t answer. Instead, he reached up slowly, gloved fingers hooking beneath the mask.

Your heart stuttered as he pulled it off. And there he was.

Seungmin. Hair slightly damp from sweat under the helmet, dark eyes glinting with something between mischief and frustration, his face calm in a way that made you want to scream.

Your jaw dropped. “What the fuck—Seungmin?!”

He smirked, tucking the mask under one arm like this was perfectly normal. “Miss me?”

You gaped at him, anger bubbling up as fast as relief. “Where the hell have you been? You disappear for two nights, and now you’re in a—” you gestured at the uniform wildly, “—fucking guard outfit?!”

Seungmin tilted his head slightly, watching you like you were adorable when you were mad. “You noticed.”

“Of course I noticed! What the hell are you even doing? Have you been—” you broke off, glaring, “—have you been messing with me this whole time?”

Seungmin tilted his head, leaning one shoulder against the crate like this was casual, like you weren’t about to combust. “Messing with you?” His smirk deepened, his dark eyes scanning your flushed face, drinking in every twitch of irritation. “No. I’ve been keeping you alive.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms. “Oh, right, because you’re just that good at this? Every time I almost die, you just happen to be there?”

“Exactly.”

You blinked. “That’s not an answer, Seungmin!”

His chuckle was low, amused—too amused. He pushed off the crate and closed the space between you in two slow steps, his gaze locked on yours like you were the most interesting thing in the room. “You’re cute when you’re mad, you know that?”

You glared harder. “Don’t change the subject. You disappear for two nights, you come back dressed like a fucking guard—what, are you working for them?!”

That made him laugh. Actually laugh—quiet and sharp, like you’d just told him the funniest thing in the world. “Me? A guard?” He stepped closer, lowering his voice, his smirk turning downright sinful. “Sweetheart, if I worked for them, you wouldn’t still be breathing.”

You swallowed, anger still boiling, but your pulse spiked at the way his tone dropped on sweetheart. “Then what the hell are you doing, huh? Why risk everything?!”

For a moment, his expression shifted—serious, almost dangerous. He leaned down, caging you against the crates with one hand braced beside your head, his other hand casually resting on your hip like it belonged there. “Because I don’t plan on dying here. And when I walk out, I plan to burn this entire fucking place to the ground.”

Your breath caught, your anger flickering into something else entirely.

Seungmin smirked at the way your lips parted, at how your chest rose faster now. “But you?” His hand slid higher, brushing your waist, teasing. “You keep making that very hard for me.”

You stiffened. “How is that my fault?”

“Because you’re distracting as hell.” His voice dropped, rough now, closer to the edge he usually kept under control. “You’re smart, you’re stubborn, and you look at me like you know I’m cheating, but you still follow me. Do you know how hot that is?”

You flushed, opening your mouth to argue, but he was already leaning closer, his forehead brushing yours.

“You get angry, you yell at me, and all I can think about is how much I want to shut you up with my mouth.”

Your pulse slammed against your ribs, and his smirk softened into something darker, hungrier.

“Tell me to stop, and I will.” His thumb brushed just under your ribs now, slow, testing. “But you’re not going to, are you?”

You glared, even as your back pressed harder against the crates. “You’re so cocky.”

His grin widened. “And you love it.”

You didn’t even have time to breathe before his mouth was on yours. No hesitation, no teasing this time—rough, messy, desperate. The kiss was all teeth and heat, his lips crashing against yours like he’d been holding back for days. Your head tilted back as his tongue slid against yours, deep and hungry, stealing every breath you had. One of his hands braced against the crate, the other suddenly gripping your ass, squeezing hard enough to make you gasp into his mouth.

He groaned at the sound, low and sharp, and squeezed harder, dragging you closer against him until you felt his cock straining against his uniform. “Fuck—” you gasped when he finally tore his mouth away to breathe, his forehead pressed to yours, his fingers digging into your ass like he couldn’t get enough.

His voice was rough, broken by his own heavy breathing. “You don’t even get it, do you? You drive me fucking insane.” Before you could answer, he grabbed you—actually lifted you up, setting you on the edge of the crate with a dull thud. His hands slid to your thighs, spreading them wide, and then right back to your ass, kneading, squeezing like he’d been dying to touch you properly.

“God, you feel so good,” he muttered against your jaw, “I’ve been thinking about this, you have no idea—”

You clutched his uniform jacket, trying to pull him closer, and he laughed breathlessly against your neck.

“Needy, huh?” His teeth grazed your skin before he kissed you again—sloppy, wet, his tongue pushing past your lips like he couldn’t stand even an inch of distance. Your moan slipped out before you could stop it, and that made him groan, deep and filthy.

“Yeah, just like that. So fucking hot when you can’t keep quiet for me.”

He bit your bottom lip gently before sucking it into his mouth, releasing it with a wet pop that made your stomach tighten. Both his hands were back on your ass now, pulling you against the hard line of him as he ground against you slowly, like he wanted you to feel how much he wanted you.

“You feel that?” His voice dropped, low and feral in your ear. “That’s what you do to me.”

Your head tipped back as he kissed down your neck, sloppy and unrestrained now, teeth scraping before soothing with hot, open-mouthed kisses. One of his hands slid up your side, grabbing your waist, pulling you closer until you were almost straddling him on the edge of the crate.

“Tell me you want this,” he rasped against your skin, kissing back up to your jaw. “Tell me to keep going.”

Your fingers tightened in his jacket, breath shaky. “Seungmin… don’t stop.”

His grin was dark, breath hot against your cheek. “Good girl.” His lips trailed down across your neck and you whimpered when he sucked at the spot just below your ear, leaving a faint bruise, and that sound made him groan low in his throat. “I need to be inside you. Right now.”

Your breath caught, and his eyes—dark, hungry—searched yours for a split second, almost like he was giving you a chance to say no.

You didn’t. You tugged at his jacket instead, whispering, “Then do it.”

With a quiet, frustrated groan, he yanked at the waistband of your tracksuit pants, dragging them down along with your panties in one swift, desperate motion. The cool air hit your skin, making you shiver, but his hands were right there, warm and sure, pulling you to the very edge of the crate.

“Fuck,” he muttered when he saw you—already wet, thighs trembling. His thumb brushed along your inner thigh, teasing for half a second before he smirked. “You’re soaked for me.”

You glared weakly, but your body betrayed you, hips tilting toward him, and his grin widened, feral. He unzipped his uniform jacket halfway with one hand, pushing his pants down just enough to free himself, his cock hard and flushed as he gripped it. The sight of him like that—half-undressed in the red uniform, breathing heavy, looking at you like he might actually devour you—made your stomach twist with heat.

His hand tightened around his cock as he stepped closer, the head brushing against your slick folds slow and teasing. You jolted, your fingers digging into his jacket, but his grin only widened, that feral, amused spark in his dark eyes.

“You’re pissed at me, aren’t you?” he murmured, dragging his tip along your entrance but not pushing in, spreading your wetness over himself. “All because I disappeared for a couple nights.”

You glared up at him, breath shaky. “You— you didn’t even tell me where you were—”

He chuckled low, leaning down to press his mouth to your jaw, kissing you lazily as his cock slid against you again, slick and maddeningly slow. “God, you’re adorable when you’re angry.” His teeth grazed your skin, nipping lightly. “You care. You were worried, weren’t you?”

You tried to shove him back, but he just pressed his cock against you harder, sliding between your folds until the head nudged your clit, making you gasp despite yourself. His smirk was devastating. “You were. You missed me.”

“I did not—”

“Then why are you this wet for me?” he interrupted, his thumb moving to rub tight, slow circles over your clit as his cock teased your entrance, “—when I haven’t even given you anything yet?”

Your breath hitched, your nails digging into his shoulders now.

Seungmin hummed low, almost to himself, his voice turning rougher. “You can hate me all you want after, baby. But right now? You’re gonna take everything I give you.” Finally, finally, he pushed in—just the tip, groaning under his breath when your walls squeezed around him immediately. “Shit—so fucking tight,” he hissed, his forehead dropping against yours, his hands gripping your hips tight to hold you still.

You whimpered, trying to roll your hips for more, but he stilled you with a sharp squeeze to your waist. “Ah, ah,” he teased, pulling back just enough to slide his cock slowly through your slick folds again, “you don’t get it all at once. Not after yelling at me like that.”

You glared, panting. “You’re such a—”

He cut you off with a sharp thrust of just a little deeper, making you gasp mid-sentence. His grin was wicked. “Say it. Go on.” Another slow push, deeper this time, his cock stretching you inch by inch. “Tell me how mad you are while you’re dripping all over me.”

Your hands fisted in his jacket, your head tipping back as his slow, deliberate pace started driving you insane.

“Seungmin, please—”

His groan was low, harsh, his control finally starting to crack. “Fuck—don’t beg yet. I’m enjoying this too much.” He pushed in another slow inch, groaning under his breath, his hands gripping your waist tight enough to bruise. “Fuck, you feel so good,” he muttered, voice strained, forehead pressing against yours as he stilled inside you, barely halfway in. “I could stay like this all night.”

You whined, shifting your hips, trying to pull him deeper, but his grip held you still.

“No, no,” he whispered, his grin smug even as his jaw tightened with restraint. “You don’t get it all until you say it.”

Your brows furrowed, breath shaky. “S-say what?”

His eyes darkened, a wicked smirk curling his lips as he pulled out almost completely, then slid back in slowly, agonisingly slow, until your walls clenched around him desperately.

“Say you missed me.”

Your face heated, stubbornness warring with the needy ache low in your stomach. “I’m not—”

He let out a sharp laugh, pulling out again, only to push in shallowly, barely giving you anything. “Then I guess I’ll just take my time,” he taunted, his voice low and teasing as his cock slid just at your entrance, rubbing against your sensitive walls without giving you the deep thrust you craved. “I can keep this up for hours, baby.”

You groaned in frustration, trying to push yourself onto him, but he held you still, his thumbs digging into your hips.

“Look at you,” he murmured, leaning close to kiss along your jaw, slow and lazy despite the tension humming through his body. “Squirming for me already. You hate me right now, don’t you?”

“I do hate you,” you bit out, though your voice cracked as he slid in just a little deeper, making your stomach tighten.

His grin widened, his teeth grazing your neck before he kissed it. “Liar. You don’t hate me. You missed me. You were worried about me.”

“I was not—”

He snapped his hips forward just enough to bury himself a little deeper, cutting off your words with a sharp gasp. “Say it.” His tone was darker now, more strained, self-control hanging by a thread. “Say you missed me, or I’ll pull out and leave you like this.”

Your nails dug into his shoulders, your pride crumbling with every shallow, teasing thrust.

Finally, you broke.

“I—fuck—Seungmin, I missed you, okay?!”

His groan was downright sinful, his head dropping to your shoulder, his teeth scraping your skin as his hips stilled deep inside you. “Good girl,” he rasped, his voice shaking now, his hands tightening on your hips. “Fuck, I’ve been dying to hear you say that.”

His hips slammed into yours brutally, burying himself to the hilt with each thrust. The crate beneath you creaked dangerously, but Seungmin didn’t slow, his jaw tight, eyes locked on the way your body arched against him. “Fuck—just like that,” he groaned, his voice rough, low enough to make your stomach twist. “You feel so fucking good squeezing me like this.”

You gasped, nails clawing at his open uniform jacket as he set a brutal pace, every deep thrust making your breath hitch.

But he wasn’t done.

His hand—still gripping your hip hard enough to bruise—suddenly moved. He slapped your thigh sharply, the sound echoing in the small storage room, making you jolt with a breathless moan. Seungmin grinned, feral, before his hand immediately slid between your legs, fingers rubbing your clit harshly, fast, in tight circles.

Your head fell back, your walls clenching around him so tightly he cursed under his breath.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he rasped, his thrusts growing even rougher, faster, chasing your reaction. “Cum for me, baby. You came on my fingers, but now—fuck—I wanna feel you cum on my cock. I’ve been wanting this since day one.”

You whimpered, already trembling as the overwhelming pace sent you spiralling, and his filthy grin widened, his thrusts hitting deeper, perfectly timed with every harsh stroke of his fingers.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” His voice was strained now, his own control slipping, but his hand didn’t stop. “I can feel you—so fucking tight—don’t hold back. Cum for me. Now.”

You moaned his name, your voice breaking as your climax hit you hard, your entire body tightening around him as you shook. Seungmin groaned low, almost animalistic, burying himself deep and holding you still as he felt you squeeze around him, milking him.

“F-fuck, that’s it—good girl—yeah, just like that, take it, baby—” His rhythm stuttered, hips snapping desperately now, still rubbing at your clit to overstimulate you, drawing out every second of your orgasm. You gasped, legs trembling, and he pressed his forehead to your neck.

“You think I’m done with you?” he rasped, his voice low, strained with the effort of holding himself back even a little. His teeth grazed your throat before he licked a slow, wet stripe up to your jaw, his tongue hot against your skin. “Not even close, baby.”

You whimpered, still shaking from your orgasm, and that only made his grin turn downright wicked.

“Yeah… I can feel you twitching around me,” he muttered, almost to himself, his hips grinding deeper as he licked and kissed at your neck, sloppy and unrestrained. “You’re so sensitive now. Bet I can make you cum again.”

Before you could protest, his hand slid between you again, his fingers finding your clit immediately.

“Seungmin—w-wait, I—”

“Shh, don’t fight it.” His tone was soft but filthy, his finger already circling your clit in harsh, quick motions, perfectly timed with his rough thrusts. “You can take it. Be a good girl for me—let me feel you fall apart again.”

You gasped, back arching as his cock filled you over and over, the added stimulation making your legs tremble uncontrollably.

Seungmin groaned against your skin, biting lightly at your shoulder before soothing the mark with his tongue. “God, you’re so fucking perfect like this—so wet, clenching so tight for me even after cumming.”

Your hands fisted in his uniform jacket, nails dragging down his back as your moans spilled out despite you trying to hold them in.

He chuckled darkly, his thrusts turning sloppy but relentless, chasing every reaction. “That’s it. Be loud for me. No one can hear us in here anyway, baby—fuck—I want to hear you.”

The combination of his pounding thrusts and the brutal pace of his fingers on your clit made you twitch and squirm, your walls fluttering around him again as you gasped his name.

“Yeah, say it again,” he groaned, his hips snapping harder, kissing messily along your jaw, your cheek, anywhere he could reach. “Say my name while you cum for me.”

You were already falling apart, your voice breaking into desperate, breathless sounds as his cock slammed into you over and over, his fingers rubbing your clit in fast, harsh circles that made your whole body twitch.

“S-Seungmin—ah—please—fuck, I—”

Your words dissolved into a moan, incoherent and needy, and he groaned low in his throat, his teeth grazing your jaw before biting lightly at your cheek.

“Yeah, just like that,” he growled, his voice rough, almost unhinged. “You can’t even talk, can you? Too fucked out already.”

You shook your head weakly, gasping as another sharp thrust had you clenching hard around him. Your legs trembled violently, your thighs trying to squeeze together, but his hand slapped your thigh again before spreading you wider, keeping you open for him.

“Don’t you dare close up on me,” he rasped, his hips snapping harder, deeper. “I’m not done with you. You’re gonna cum for me again—fuck—you’re gonna soak my cock this time.”

“S-Seungmin—ngh—I can’t—”

“You can,” he cut you off, his pace relentless, his thumb pressing tighter against your clit, circling faster. His grin turned downright feral when your back arched, your moans breaking into incoherent whimpers.

“Oh, you’re close again, aren’t you? Fuck, I can feel you tightening up already. Do it—cum for me again, baby. Give it to me.”

You gasped, your voice nothing but incoherent babbling now, his name spilling from your lips over and over like a prayer as the pleasure built fast and overwhelming.

“Say it louder,” he growled against your neck, licking a hot stripe up to your ear before biting your earlobe gently. “I wanna hear you scream my name when you fall apart.”

And you did.

Your orgasm ripped through you harder than before, your whole body convulsing, legs twitching uncontrollably as you cried out his name, babbling broken pleas you couldn’t even form into words.

Seungmin groaned sharply, his rhythm faltering for a moment as he buried himself deep, feeling you spasm around him. “F-fuck—yes, that’s it, baby, fuck, you’re squeezing me so good—good girl—mine—” But even as you trembled, overstimulated and weak, his thumb didn’t leave your clit, rubbing slower but still deliberate, coaxing every aftershock out of you.

“Look at you, twitching for me—so perfect,” he murmured, pressing messy kisses along your neck, his breath ragged. “One more, baby. Just one more for me.”

You shook your head frantically, gasping, “C-can’t—too much—”

His dark grin widened, softening for just a second as he kissed your cheek, but his hips were still rolling into you, slower now but deep, controlled.

“Yes, you can. Be good for me. Cum one more time—I know you can. But first...” Seungmin groaned against your neck, his thrusts slowing just long enough for him to pull out, his cock slick and glistening. You blinked at him, still trembling, trying to catch your breath, but his dark, hungry grin sent a new wave of heat through you.

“Turn around for me.” he rasped, his voice low and wrecked.

You hesitated, still dazed, but he was already gripping your waist and pulling you down from the crate, spinning you smoothly until your chest pressed against the cool surface. His hand slid down your back, firm, guiding you into position until you were bent over slightly, ass arched perfectly for him.

“Good girl,” he muttered, his tone dripping with approval as he positioned himself behind you. “Fuck, you look so pretty like this.” Before you could reply, his hand cracked against your ass—once, twice, then a third sharp slap, each one making you jolt and gasp.

“Seungmin—!”

His chuckle was dark, amused, and so damn cocky. “That’s right, say my name.”

You opened your mouth to deny it, but then he thrust into you from behind in one deep, brutal stroke, making your voice break into a sharp moan instead. “God—fuck—” you gasped, hands gripping the crate tightly as his hips immediately started pounding into you, fast and relentless.

Seungmin groaned, his grip on your hips tightening, fingers digging in as he fucked you hard enough to make the crate creak beneath you.

“That’s it, baby—take it,” he growled, his pace brutal now. “You feel even better than I imagined—fuck, so tight.”

Your head dropped forward, your moans spilling out in broken, incoherent babbles.

“Seungmin—ah—so good—your cock—fuck—missed you—so much—”

The second those words left your lips, his groan turned almost animalistic, his thrusts hitting deeper, harder, his hands squeezing your hips like he was trying to mold you into his palms. “Say that again,” he rasped, leaning over you now, his chest pressed to your back, his mouth hot against your ear. “Say you missed me.”

You whimpered, barely able to think, your words tumbling out without filter. “Missed you—fuck—missed you so much, Seungmin—needed you—”

His growl was low, broken, as his pace turned downright feral. “Shit—fuck—you’re gonna make me cum so hard—keep talking, baby, keep saying my name.”

You were almost sobbing now, your legs trembling violently, pleasure building fast again as his cock slammed into you from behind, his tip brushing that perfect spot with every thrust. Seungmin pressed his mouth to your shoulder, biting hard enough to muffle his own moan as he pounded into you, his voice wrecked.

“You’re mine. Say it.”

“Y-yours—Seungmin, I’m yours—”

“Good fucking girl.”

Seungmin’s thrusts grew harder, faster, sloppy with desperation. Your moans were completely incoherent now, your face pressed against the crate as your body trembled violently with every brutal thrust.

“Seungmin—ah—f-fuck—so deep—”

His grin was feral, his breath hot against your ear as he leaned down, chest flush to your back, still thrusting into you ruthlessly.

“Yeah, that’s it—take all of me, baby. You love it, don’t you? Love when I fuck you stupid like this.”

You whimpered, babbling helplessly. “Yes—fuck—love it—love your cock—so good—”

That made him growl low, his pace somehow even rougher, his words tumbling out fast and filthy now. “God, you’re perfect. My perfect girl. All mine. Say it—say you’re mine while I fill you up.”

You cried out his name, barely able to form words as you gasped, “Yours—Seungmin—I’m yours—please—”

“Good girl,” he rasped, his thrusts erratic now, his self-control snapping completely. One hand slid from your hip to your clit again, rubbing fast and harsh despite how sensitive you already were.

“Cum with me, baby. Come on—cum all over my cock while I fill you.”

You shook your head weakly, sobbing, “C-can’t—too much—”

His grip tightened on your hip, his thrusts slamming deeper, rougher. “Yeah, you can. Be good for me one more time. I want to feel you squeeze me while I cum.” The overstimulation hit fast, pleasure crashing over you again as you clenched hard around him, screaming his name as your orgasm ripped through you, leaving you shaking violently under him.

“Fuuuck—yes, that’s it, baby—milk my cock—just like that—good girl, my good fucking girl—”

With one final deep thrust, Seungmin groaned harshly against your shoulder, burying himself to the hilt as he spilled deep inside you, his hips grinding to keep himself as close as possible.

“Take it all—fuck—you’re mine—”

His pace slowed gradually, his cock twitching inside you as he stayed pressed deep, his forehead against your back, his breathing ragged. For a moment, neither of you moved—your body still twitching from overstimulation, his chest heaving against your back, his hands softening where they gripped your hips.

Then, slowly, his lips brushed your shoulder. A soft, almost reverent kiss. Then another. The shift was jarring—the feral, relentless man who had just fucked you senseless now kissing your skin like you were something fragile, something to be cherished.

His forehead rested against the curve of your neck, and his voice came low, hoarse but steady. “You’re staying alive. You hear me?” His lips ghosted over your skin between words, soft kisses peppered along your neck. “I’m keeping you alive.”

You turned your head slightly, still breathless, whispering, “Seungmin…”

He pressed another kiss to your jaw, slower this time, his hand sliding gently up your side to hold you closer. “When we get out of here—when I get you out—” His tone softened even more, the raw intensity in his eyes now replaced with something deeply sincere. “—I’ll tell you everything. The truth. Why I’m really here. All of it.”

You blinked at him, heart pounding for an entirely new reason. “The truth?”

He kissed your cheek, his lips lingering for a long second.

“Yeah. But for now…” He pulled out carefully, helping you straighten up, his hands steady on your waist as if you might break. He smirked just slightly, softer than his usual cocky grin. “…just trust me, okay? You don’t have to understand everything yet. Just stay alive for me.”

And all you could do is take his word for it and trust him.

🏷️ taglist: @cybergracie , @jupitermarss , @basicginn , @dhvnigvil , @emkvlixsx , @collin-thegreat , @somuchpanicverylittledisco , @emilyywhyy , @rainyjeno , @fawnoverdawn , @pixie-felix , @anniestay , @notmeneo , @lovslixx , @themoonlightfae , @heartwithoutaname , @yourghostneighbor , @princesskrystix , @drilles , @y2kur0mi , @mochi-space , @ivaviavi , @phelans-thoughts , @the-anon-reader , @beans4beans56 , @joyfulchaoslover , @channieismylove , @cherryoatchai , @unimportantweirdo , @seagulljk , @freckles-and-rage , @lonelydarknessblog , @girlsymptoms , @bookswillfindyouaway , @jasperlvskz , @geekymommakerry , @dazzlingjade , @alisonyus , @pluto-rose , @crazy4books1 , @b3autyist3rror , @felixleftchickennugget , @loonybunny1 , @itzkaitlynm , @boldy-49 , @zayn-210 , @hanjiswvrld

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i thought i was the only one

changbin: s-class relay dance

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Y.J Bubble update 💭🦊

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Tiny Han

Made a quick Jisung sketch, just practicing drawing him since i've never done before and it was interesting

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RANDOM TEXTS WITH BF! JEONGIN (pt.1)

❪ 概要 ❫‎ yang jeongin × fem!reader g. smau/fluff/comedy, established relationship . . . . . cw. kinda suggestive?? idk 10ss.

note. don't mind the timestamps i totally didn't forget about those until i finished xx

© www-hanverse 2025 ☆ do not copy, steal or repost !

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「TMI: SKZ」 Masterlist

Gossip Girl-inspired short stories. If you would like to send in anonymous tips (requests), click here. Please remember to follow my request rules.

✩ Synopsis: In this world, everyone has something to hide, but it’s difficult to keep secrets if you’re always in the spotlight. Welcome to the world of TMI, short stories featuring eight dashing young men. Glamorous on the outside, messy beneath the surface, and everyone's eyes are always on them. Dark. Scandalous. Raunchy.

Stay tuned, STAY. The scandal of the season is just getting started.

You know you love me.

XOXO,

Lady Stray 💋

✩ Pairing: stray kids x afab! reader (different members per story)

✩ Reader discretion advised: explicit sexual content, mature language, adult themes, and other warnings will be put on each story.

Content:

✩ reblogs, feedback, & comments are highly appreciated. It motivates me, and it is the lifeline of my blog. To everyone who read and interacted with my works, such as comment and reblog, especially with text, thank you so much 정말 감사합니다 ♡

✩ if you want to support my work, buy me a coffee ☕

- love, jan ♡

「© 2025 chanswhxre & chansbxbba」 Please do not copy, translate, repost, or steal my work.

All of the stories I write are works of fiction and in no way represent stray kids in any way. All the names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents in my stories are either the product of my imagination or used in a fictitious manner.

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feels like i just paid jypes bills for the month

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oh my god

↪ chan ✨ ▬ skz talker s.5 ep.19