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last-words-ofashootingstar · 10 months

Text

DJANGO

Choi San x fem reader x Jung Wooyoung (heavy hints at ot8)

a/n: nobody talk to me nobody touch me nobody look at me i'm loosing my mind over this comeback you don't even understand

"Ain't nobody mess with Django, call me Django." -ATEEZ

✫彡wordcount: 5.5k (sorry?!?)

(>ᴗ•) genre: smut w/plot

ಠ_ಠwarnings/content: violence and injuries, dystopian/lore universe, lots of cussing, angst, poly relationship, brief mention of drinking as coping, extreme pda LMAO, woo is a bit of a little shit in the first half, dry humping, making out(lots of it), also lots of pet names, multiple rounds, threesome, light choking&degrading, snowballing, oral, boobjob, dp, overstim, teasing, orgasm control, praise kink teehee, dom san/sub woo/switch-sub reader, m x m, unprotected( don't do that🗣️), NOT EDITED

taglist: @calicanbeevil @pansies-garden @kissezfornamjoon @wisejudgedragonhairdo

MATURE UNDER CUT MDNI

The van shook as another vehicle passed, making San groan as you fell down onto him.

"I'm sorry, Baby," you cooed softly, kissing the bruise on his collarbone that you had unintentionally fallen onto. The soaked rag that you cleaned him with was handed back to you from its fallen place on the shag carpet by Wooyoung with a soft laugh.

"You baby him too much, he's a big boy," he claps his hand onto his shoulder, making him groan again- glaring at the younger man, "right, Champ?"

"I'll beat your ass, Woo."

"Oh, I bet you will, you beat up that scrawny little guy too!" He cackles, clapping and leaning away as San swipes at him tiredly.

"He was faster than I expected!"

"You two knock it off," you sigh exasperatedly as you wipe the grime from his swollen pec, rolling your eyes at your boyfriends bickering. Being stuck in such a small space had taken a toll on the three of yours relationship- especially the two men. They were at each other throats more often than not-even it was playfully. "I'll blow our cover just to tell Hongjoong."

"You wouldn't..." Wooyoung eyes you suspiciously as you smirk. "You wouldn't!"

"I will if you two don't give me a second of peace." You cock your brow at him, tossing the rag into the pile that is your dirty laundry, silently cursing yourself for choosing to hide out with them instead of with Yunho and Jongho in their shop. They even had a cool talking bird.

You place a gentle kiss to Sans eye, a healing bruise almost faded under your lips. "Stop getting hit in the face, yeah?"

"Yeah, I'll politely tell my opponents that my girlfriend likes her boys pretty~" he rolls his eyes and whines as your body heat leaves his sore body.

"So what if I do, pretty boys happen to be my type!" You shrug and crawl off of the spent man, over to the other side and into Wooyoungs lap.

He smirks at his boyfriend cockily as you rest your head on his shoulder, "that's why she's cuddling me right n-ow!" His smirk turns to a pout as you flick his chest.

"Can you two manage a peace treaty while I get some shut eye? It's four hours drive to the next town and it's my turn to drive in the morning."

"Of course, Darling." They chime together, silently scowling at one another but keeping quiet as you close your eyes.

"Wakey, wakey," you shake the buff man softly, safely parked in the back alley of the abandoned building. Wooyoung stood just outside of the open van doors, abs on display as he changed into a better looking shirt.

"Yah, wake up!"

You glare at him as he startles San awake, who holds you close protectively in his delirium, still scared of the run in you had experienced with HalaTeez months ago. No matter how much he swears to the lot of you that he doesn't feel guilty, the way his eyes sadden when he focuses on the scar over your left brow for too long gives it away. Hala-San, as you call him to real-Sans dismay, had tricked you all too well and after that... you couldn't look at the real, loving, caring San for weeks. You had to split off with Mingi and frequented a bar, drinking away any memory of Hala-Sans torment until Hongjoong found you and picked up the pieces when the bottle ran empty.

"You dick," San rasps as he rubs your sides, his gentle touch a contrast to the way he gives his cackling boyfriend the stink eye.

"Rise and shine, Sannie~" he teases, buttoning up his shirt and soothing his long hair down, "time to get your ass whopped again."

"Oh, like you'd do any better! You'd be demolished!"

You let out a sigh and slide out of the van, soothing your dress- which in reality is Jongho's shirt with a belt around your waist. "I'll be signing in." You speak shortly before wondering off, leaving them fighting more than ever over how they upset you.

San insists it's all Wooyoungs fault for being such a whiny shit.

Wooyoung is adamant that San is at fault for hogging all of your attention.

They go back and forth for a while until a Strickland patrol vechile speeds by, spooking the both of them into the building.

Wooyoung immediately wraps his arms around your waist as they find you bent over signing Sans pseudonym, DJANGO, into the fighting brackets. San is busy eyeing everyone around you, both in suspicion of Halateez and Strickland and simply to scope out his potential competition.

"Entry fee is three k," the woman on the other side of the pop-up table looks as if she's ready to kick your trio out in a single breath when you don't provide the money, eyeing up Sans messy tank top and your days old makeup with distain.

"That's it?" You pout, tutting your tongue as you turn away from the rude woman, sighing dramatically as you dig into Wooyoungs pockets, grabbing hold of multiple tightly rolled wads of money.

Both of them smirk at your antics, so clearly eager to prove this stranger wrong about her preconceived notions about you and your lovers as you count the wads, dropping a few down before skipping past her with a wave.

The crowded arena does nothing for Sans anxiety, his eyes scanning at a million miles an hour as he keeps a possessive hand on the small of your back. Wooyoung has similar feelings as he drapes his arm over your shoulders in a way that clearly shouts, 'don't touch' to anyone who looks your way. You feel much safer on the other hand, both of your boyfriends touching you at once for the first time in what feels like ages, both ready to toss themselves infront of danger if it presents itself.

You all squeeze your way to the front, right up to the edge of the ring, where a fight is already taking place, one of the men nearly teasing the other with the way he bounces around on his tip-toes, not letting the other get a single touch in.

"She said not many fighters showed up," you practically have to yell for the men to hear you, "Strickland cracking down again!" You explain loudly, rubbing Sans lower back in an attempt to comfort his nerves as he stretches his wrists. Wooyoung has split off to make bets with other players, making sure to stick out like a sore thumb with his flashy shirt. "Might have to find a new income soon if they don't back off!"

He sighs, rolling his head back and stretching his neck out, letting you admire the freckles on his skin that he knows you love.

As the quick moving fighter finally wears out his opponent, he gets sloppy, and he starts getting hits in. You slide behind San and hide your face in his back, wrapping your arms around his waist and stroking his stomach softly. "I hate that you have to do this!"

He holds his hands over your own and rubs his thumbs over your skin, watching the man who will clearly be his opponent wailing on the other man.

"Got nine grand riding on you tonight, Babe," Wooyoung slides back into the conversation, cupping the back of Sans neck.

Although they had their on and off moments, he would always be in tune to his emotions and try to calm him. And trying to keep the peace was even more worth it when you were around. Usually, they had Yeosang as a voice of reason but he was off with Seonghwa doing God-knows what in preparation for your next mission.

Being apart was straining and stressful for every last one of you. But groups larger than three were banned by Hongjoong after four of you had caught Halateez's attention a few months back. He didn't want to risk it again and he certainly didn't want to risk a group of nine most wanted outlaws being together. The combined reward for your captures was the largest amount of money you had ever read. You weren't sure how to even pronounce it.

It was almost an entire year of being in hiding.

You didn't know how much more you could take.

"- DJANGO!!" The name catches your attention over the blaring speaker. How was he up so early? You peek around San and see the fast man catching his breath in the opposite corner. Blood being wiped up and a limp body being carried out.

"We can always find a new way to get money," you scream to San as he rolls out his stiff shoulders, whining as Wooyoung pulls you away gently. "Seriously, Sannie!"

"He'll be okay, Darling," Wooyoungs chaste kiss to your head does nothing to calm your raging nerves as San bends down and slides into the ring. You pull away in a hurry and hop up on the ledge, grabbing his top over the ropes.

"Forgot something?" You lean your torso over and immediately take San into a heated kiss, his calloused hands cupping your face firmly and pulling you close. People all around whistle and call loudly, a blush creeping up Wooyoung neck as he watches your lips meld together.

It been almost a year on the run. Almost five months since any of the three of you have touched one another in an intimate, primal way.

He doesn't know how much longer he can take it. When you crawled into his lap earlier he nearly took you right there.

You always do something after a needy kiss that makes every single one of them feral.

You lick up Sans lips to his cheekbone and moan.

People start nearly howling, and his opponent looks antsy.

"Fuck him up, Baby," you cup his chin in your hand as you block out the world around you for a moment and take one last good look at him before you know you'll go away during his fights. You can't bring yourself to watch no matter how long he's been fighting. But that doesn't mean you won't hype him up while you can.

You slap his shoulder softly, making sure to make it look harder than it was in reality before giving his fist a gentle kiss.

"Fuck him up," you repeated before hopping down.

The van door opening makes your head snap, setting away the headphones that play Yeosangs violin melody.

"Hey, how'd ev-"

San jumps on you before you can finish greeting them properly, kissing you deeply and feeling you up like it's the first time he's ever touched you. The clotted blood on his lip doesn't discourage either of you, the pain only stirs him on as Wooyoung climbs in and slams the doors shut behind him.

The dull thud of the duffel bag he drops makes you look over, San letting you breath and nipping at your neck and jaw instead. "Holy shit, Baby, you won?!"

"Fuck yeah, I did, Beautiful," he moans breathlessly, holding himself up above you to speak with a sultry purr, "let me spoil you." He looks over to Wooyoung lustfully. "Both. Let me spoil you both."

Wooyoung smiles at him. Genuinely. For the first time in weeks.

If there's one thing that makes him weak it's being spoiled by his lovers. So when San lifts you up and settles you in his lap and climbs into the drivers seat, he doesn't complain: he simply dives into your lips like a man starved.

And he is, lips suctioned onto yours so deeply and passionately that neither of you notice as the van lurches to life and begins speeding away. You fall to the floor ontop of him and hold him tightly. Like he's an illusion that will disappear like smoke if you let go.

He body feels so right on yours. Clinged together on the shag floor. Melting together. The outside world and all of its problems fading away as his hands wander your body.

How you've managed to keep your hands off one another for this long is a world's greatest mystery.

"Fuck," he moans as you lap at his lips, his hands sliding up the edge of your dress and cupping the round of your ass. "Fuck, Princess, please," he whines.

You can hear the smirk in the way San chuckles from the front seat, but it doesn't stop him from speeding up. He loves how whiney Wooyoung gets just as much as you do.

You clumsily undo his bottoms and pull them down just enough to press your heat to his growing bulge. The thin layers of cloth separating you doesn't stop the feral groan that he lets out, holding your hips with a bruising force as he grinds up into you. If anything, the soft fabric pressing into your clit with each of his uncoordinated thrusts makes it feel more euphoric.

"Oh, God~"

The soft moans you let out have Wooyoung rock hard and San palming himself. "Ffffuck, Baby," you groan, hugging his neck tightly as his hips buck below you.

Everyone got the 'Babyyy' treatment when they were good or needed a pick me up. The way it rolled off of your tongue was like a drug to them. Even more so when it's so deep and passionate. Even more so when their cock is pressing against you.

Sans eager left turn has the both of you rolling on the floor, laughing as he apologizes loudly from the driver seat. "Sorry, continue!"

"You heard the man," you laugh from below Wooyoung, "continue."

And he does, burying his face in your neck and biting and licking and sucking as he rubs his bulge against you like it's the last human touch he'll ever experience. "M'cum," your moan has him rolling into you with a new purpose in life, nearly growling as he holds himself back from painting his underwear white, "shit, Youngie!" You wrap your legs around his waist tightly as you release, shivering and shaking with your jaw slack.

He isn't far behind by even a second, his gut clenching as he turns his bottoms sticky with his own pleasure, panting into your ear as he continues to roll into you, drawing out your euphoria and making you mewl out, clawing at his scalp.

In your bliss, you fail to notice that Sans parked outside of a double story motel and ran out with a wad of cash, clearly in a hurry.

Yours hands are wrapped in each others hair, breathing deeply with your foreheads pressed together, almost as it trying to meld your souls together with passion.

The doors behind the both of you open and flood you in the neon light of the motel signs, and you peek around Wooyoungs frame as he falls over you protectively from what he thinks is prying eyes. "Sannie~" you call, making Wooyoung relax ontop of you.

"You alive, Foxy?" San teases as he climbs in and crawls to you both.

"Mhm," he moans into your jaw, "very alive." He gasps as San pulls him away from you by his neck, taking him in a feverish kiss as you watch on in awe. You can tell San his slipping his tongue into Wooyoungs mouth by the way he holds his jaw open, the way Wooyoung grinds his bulge back into you.

"Youngie, Baby," you whine as he rolls his self into your swollen clit, but it only makes him go faster, his hands finding purchase on Sans waist. "Ah s-" You writhe below him, stopped when one of Sans hands comes and holds you in place by pressing on your stomach: all the while he never opens his eyes or pulls away from your boyfriend. "Fuck, please don't tease!"

He chuckles into his lips, gently stroking his neck. "C'mon, I got us a room for a few days."

Wooyoung begrudgingly slides out of the van, gathering your few bags and bouncing in anticipation as he fixes his pants to the best of his ability. San scoops you up to his chest and you cling to him like a koala bear, kissing all over his face as he carries you up the stairs and down the balcony hall.

Wooyoung drops the bags at the entrance of the room and immediately goes to investigate the single bedded room and bathroom before urging San in, latching the door shut behind him.

You're dropped to the bed and bounce with a soft laugh, opening your legs wide to fit Sans large frame as he slots himself between them. Wooyoung slides next to you and is immediately latched onto your neck as he unbuttons your dress.

"Ah fuck," you mewl out, cradling his head close as your head spins, San slipping off your panties and shimmying down. He holds your thighs apart as he licks a slow, deep stripe up your soaking heat, reveling in the way you moan for him. He wastes no time diving in and eating you out like it's his last meal. His tongue flicking and swiping against every inch it can reach. His nose pressed against your clit as his head bobs.

You're lost in the pleasure between your legs so much so that you don't notice that you and Wooyoung are both naked until he climbs onto your stomach, his hot member gliding between your breasts. Despite how long it's been, your body has its muscle memory from how often you two would do this.

You cup your breasts and push them together, encasing his length in the soft flesh as he grips the headboard roughly, the tip of his cock leaking on the base of your collar bones.

It's hard to appreciate just how beautiful he is while San is ravaging your cunt with his tongue, but you manage. Looking up with blown irises, he's so pretty. His long hair softly framing his face, bouncing with each of his rough, slow thrusts against your supple skin. His swollen lips parted with moans. Toned abs expanding and constricting as he heaves.

"Foxy," you whisper out, catching his eyes with a deep blush on both of your cheeks, "so pretty, Baby."

He curses loudly and reaches one hand down, cradling your face so gently in comparison to how he fucks your tits. "My woman."

The words make your eyes roll back, a wave of your arousal coating Sans tongue as you cum, gripping your breasts tightly and whimpering out as the sensations continue well past your peak.

Wooyoung wills himself to hold back from cumming until he's told, and San holds himself back as he laps up your juices-grinding his hardness onto the bed slowly. Both of your moans are a magic melody to him, and he can't help but crave more. He pulls away and joins Wooyoung over top of you, wrapping his arms around the younger man and spooking him. He slides his hands up his naked torso teasingly slow, grinding on his backside.

"Shit, Babe," he groans, tossing his head back on his shoulder and simultaneously trying to bury his cock in your warm skin and grind back on San's bulge. "Fuck, I ne-"

"Cum, Youngie." The command from the both of you at the same time has him painting your collarbones and neck in a millisecond flat, jaw slack as San continues to stroke him even as his hips stop.

"Fuck, fuck, please, oh my God," he stirs back to life from his void of pleasure as you bend your neck and lick his sensitive tip. He tries to back away only to bump right into Sans girth on his bare backside. "Oh God~"

"Need a breather, Sexy?" San coos as he slowly moves Wooyoung off of you, already knowing that he can't cum back to back. He needs at least five minutes at that's all San needs to get you ready for what's about to come.

Wooyoung comes crawling back into you, lapping up his own seed with a quiet moan as San slides down your body and hooks your legs over his hips. "Ready, Darling?"

"Yes, holy fuck am I ready, please give it to me," you babble on, only silenced as he inches into your sopping core. He's by far the girthiest man you've even been with. And the stretch always feels so delicious.

Wooyoung takes advantage as your jaw falls open, leaning over you to drip all of his release into your mouth. The moans and whimpers of pleasure are unstoppable as you swallow all of it down eagerly, hands wrapped up in his hair and pulling him impossibly close. His body follows his head, almost snuggling you as he presses his body flush to your side, one leg hooked over your hips as he grinds his hardening member into your hip.

It's all so warm and welcoming, a familiar and comfortable feeling washing over you along with the overstimulation of your third orgasm building up as San thrusts into you with a steady slow pace. "Fuck," you moan into Wooyoung, "so big," you whimper as your cunt uncontrollably clenches around him. He swallows up all of your noises as he moves his lips against yours zealously, and sneaky hand rubbing the column of your breasts and up to your neck, simply resting: bouncing with each of Sans increasingly rough thrusts that bounce your body.

"Take me so well," Sans praise has you leaking onto the blanket, panting like crazy and slapping at Wooyoungs shoulders as he bites at your lips hungrily, "pretty Angel, made just for us, hm?"

"Mmhmph-" Your affirmative moan turns into a yelp as Wooyoung tightens his hand over your neck.

Damn them. When they decided to be on the same team they were almost scary at how well the schemed without even speaking a single word. San held your hips in place and drilled into you. Wooyoung assaulting your ear with kisses and bites, squeezing your neck in time with Sans hips.

"Pretty Angel looks like she wants your cum," Wooyoung teases as you swirl your hips in Sans hold, holding you down securely with his hand pressing your neck into the mattress as he looks down at where you're connected.

"Mmh, she does," San groans loudly, hips snapping into you needily, "looks like a bitch in heat." His words make both of you moan out, your eyes rolling into your skull for a moment before he buries himself to the hilt and stops.

"No, no, no, please! I wasn't going to cum, pleaseee, Sannie Baby~!" If there's one thing that gets San off, it's when his lover begs him for permission. When their with someone else- cum as much as you like. But with him? Grovel at his feet and beg him for a release only he can give you. "Fuuuck, shit, please, I need you, fuck me!"

Wooyoung watches you with gazed over eyes, holding you still as you attempt to writhe and get more stimulation. "She wants it's so bad, Babe~" He smirks as San, a look that makes his cock twitch inside of you, You muster up your best begging pout and let go of him, reaching for San's hands that are gripping your hips with a bruising force as he holds himself back until he's satisfied with your begging.

"I want you to make me cum, please, Django?"

All of the breath is fucked out of your lungs as he pounds into you. Fast and hard and nearly animalistic in the way he buries himself in your sopping heat with a string of curses, his fingers interlacing with yours in a soft intimacy that makes your head fuzzy. You can barely moan, how good it is. But he knows. Wooyoung knows.

As you finally come to your senses and scream out with your release, the whole district must know how well Django is fucking you.

He stops himself with a deep groan as your walls flutter and clench around him, squeezing your hands to ground your soul to your body as Wooyoung dips his head and laps at your hardened nipples. You squeeze his hands tightly, arched off of the bed in pure ecstasy as he fills you with his warm cum.

San slips his arms under your arched back and holds you close to his chest as he flips the two of you, a squeal of pleasure leaving you as he hits an all new angle. He holds you securely as he looks at Wooyoung, almost silently communicating.

He slips behind you, the feeling of his leaking tip prodding at your stretched hole has you gripping Sans shoulders tightly, rolling your hips back into him. "Oh, fuck, yes yes yes yes y-" Sans lips catch yours and silence you as he ravenously slips his tongue into your mouth and licks at your tongue, feeding on all of your moans as Wooyoung slides in with him.

"So good, my woman," his mind is gone, unaware of how your walls grow slicker with his praise as he slowly sheaths himself into you fully.

He nowhere near as thick as San, but dear lord that man has length to make up for it. The both of them together is making your stomach feel hot, the hair on the back of your neck standing up.

San pulls away panting, his lips swollen and wet with your saliva. "Beautiful Angel," you official feel lightheaded as he cradles your face oh so gently as he moves his hips. Wooyoung follows suit, holding your back and fucking into you ruthlessly, rubbing against Sans girth inside of you like it's his favorite thing to do in the universe and it's about to be ripped away.

All you can do is moan and gasp with them, a melody that your neighbors must be cursing as the headboard bangs into the thin walls.

Your chest is pressed into Sans roughly, faces barely an inch away as you all move together. His hands cupping your cheeks and keeping you upright as your body threatens to give out. "Sannie, please, n'cum," he can just make out your slurs over the panting and slapping of skin in the humid room, the smell of sex already soaking into the air.

His brain is nearly gone as he feels Wooyoungs length twitch against him along with your cunt squeezing mercilessly, only nodding at the both of you for permission as he himself lets his soul float away in a wave of pleasure, squeezing you to himself possessively as he cums inside of you. Wooyoung isn't a moment behind, the second he feels Sans warmth flood you, his is joining. And the feeling of both of them soaking your womb makes you lose yourself, dunked in pleasure.

Wooyoung falls ontop of you, sandwiching you between their body warmth. San reaches around and hugs his arms around both of you, heavy breaths lulling you to sleep.

"Holy shit." Is all that can be said.

The next morning you decide to take advantage of the running water that San must have paid extra for, washing away the grime that stuck to you despite how many bird baths Wooyoung have you on the side of the road.

San, despite you and Wooyoungs best begging, went off on his own to meet with Hongjoong after he got a call on the prepaid flip phone in the middle of the night.

Wooyoung noticed you eyeing the bag of dirty laundry when you woke up and immediately offered to go wash them and grab some food for the both of you.

You're so wrapped up in the welcoming feeling of the warm water pelting your body that you fail to notice the door opening, letting the steam rise to the ceiling of the motel room. You sung one of Jongho's songs sung softly, the sound echoing on the fiberglass and acrylic shower wall.

"Darling?"

You grab the knife you left on the edge and swipe the shower curtain back. "Jesus!" Both of you yell. Wooyoungs hands fly up in a defense position as you aim the knife at him for a moment.

You flip it in your hand and hand it over to him by the handle, visibly relaxing as you see it's only your sneaky boyfriend. "Perv~" You tease before sliding the curtain shut dramatically. You can hear him shuffling around, and the sound of his zipper confirms your suspicions.

He steps over the tub edge and joins you, hugging you close from behind and kissing your neck gently. "Did you-"

"Mhm, foods on the bed, Princess." You laugh softly before turning in his arms and hugging his neck loosely.

"You're the best, you know?"

"I sure do~"

He reaches over you and grabs the travel size bottle of shampoo, cursing them silently because he will most definitely have to go get some more from the main desk before your stay is over. He lathers it up in his hands a bit before massaging your hair tenderly. "You miss them, don't you?"

His question catches you off guard for a moment, wondering just what he means until you realize that he must have heard you singing the song Jongho wrote all those years ago on The Illusion.

Those times were so much simpler. A group of pirates and the open sea. Beautiful blue water and all the time together that you could ever ask for.

"Don't you?" The way your eyes glaze over is enough to tell him. You miss them just as much as he does. You wish this would end just as much as he does.

"It hurts like hell."

"I know, Baby."

"I want to kill them."

Hala-Teez, the Strickland officials? All of them. "Me too, Baby."

He leans your head back carefully and rinses away the coconut scented soap from your hair gently. "I love you." You speak. Just above a whisper. But he catches it even over the raining water.

"I love you, Darling. This will all be over soon." He doesn't promise because he knows he can't. He doesn't know how long this situation will last. You could be on the run from Strickland and looking over your shoulders for Hala-Teez until your last breath.

"Joong will figure something out." You don't promise. Because Hongjoong hasn't. He can't. He won't promise something that he doesn't know he cant follow through with. He could be trying to come up with a plan for decades.

You stand in silence for a moment as you wash his hair gently before he speaks again, "don't cry, Love."

"What?"

When you look up, he's blurry. When did you start crying? How did this happen?

He closes his eyes and hugs you close with his head under the stream of steaming water.

After a small cry-session in the shower together, you and Wooyoung curled up in the bed and ate your takeout, watching one of the decade old dvd's on the laptop that Yeosang managed to get to you guys a few weeks ago.

The ban from being together for safety didn't stop small run ins with a familiar looking delivery man. Be it disguised as a food delivery man, a mailman, an exterminator- Yeosang always found a way to travel around the city and deliver small gifts from one member to another along with messages from Hongjoong when the phones were down.

A wave of laughter is cut off by a knock on the door. His hand immediately grabs a small hand gun on the nightstand as he stands, your own going to your knife that's sandwiched between the mattress and bed box as you slam the laptop closed.

"Delivery!" The voice makes you relax.

"Fucker," you huff as you jump over the bed and beat Wooyoung to the door and smile at the helmeted man. You can't see him, but you know who it is. "Goody~" You peek out into the halls and spot a few suspicious looking people, so you pretend to slip him some money before taking the box and take one last look as he walks away.

"Open it," he urges impatiently, nearly knocking you over to get to the pizza box as you set it on the small table.

Ontop of your favorite pizza. A small piece of paper. Sans handwriting.

let's bounce

#ateez #ateez smut #ateez wooyoung #ateez san #jung wooyoung #choi san #wooyoung smut #choi san smut #wooyoung x reader #choi san x reader #smut fic #woosan #woosan x reader #smau #ateez smau

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skteezcursed · 2 months

Text

❝MY EVERYTHING❞ — c.jh (request)

PAIRING. choi jongho x fem!reader.

SYNOPSIS. jongho has always been your person, as well as you were his. neither of you knew exactly when everything shift from friendship to love, neither knew how madly in love either were. you trusted him blindly. he would move mountains for you. all you both needed to do was to say the three little words.

GENDER. smut. pure fluff.

AU/TROPES. best friends to lover. idiots in love. college au. jongho is a simp.

RATING. R (+18) - MDNI.

WARNINGS. soft sex. cunnilingus. handjob. blowjob. fingering. dry humping/thigh riding. unprotected sex (pull out method and please don’t do this). cock warming (kinda). let me know if i forgot anything.

WORD COUNT. 12k (a little more than you requeste but i did it haha).

NOTES. english is not my first language. jongho is the sweetest. all the boys pariticipate, but mostly WooSanSang. this story is for pookie minnie (@yourlocaljonghoe), hope you like it, sorry for the delay. thank you @bro-atz for being the beta! bye ♡.

IMPORTANT. this is a work of fiction, it has zero intent on portraing how any of the people quoted here are in real life.

CREDS. dividers by cafekitsune ♡

It was ridiculously pathetic, it had to be.

There was no way everything could possibly get better, feel better, just be better because you entered a space, and yet, the rays of sunshine felt like they shine brighter, the wind of early fall could be felt on his skin (as if he wasn't in the closet out space of the library), the hushed conversations quickly muffled as all his eyes could see was you entering the library with your laptop and books in hand, your bag hanging from your shoulder as your hand took some of the hair away from your face.

He knew it was wrong, to feel the things he felt for you, you were his best friend after all, but he just couldn’t control it. You have always been there for him during middle and high school, people used to joke that you two were a couple, he had even helped you get away from unwanted attention, that was probably when it all started, when he started to look at you differently, when your touch started to burn his skin in a good way, when the butterflies in his stomach stopped being from anxiety and started to be because you were close to him, your hand in some part of his body, or simply when your eyes found his, followed or not by a small smile.

It was only when you sat in front of him that he realized how he was staring, feeling his ears turn red but thankfully your attention was mostly focused on your things. Both had different subjects as you two were from different courses, but you always find time to study together, even if just for a bit, a habit you both got mainly thanks to how difficult high school had been.

“How were your classes? I thought you’d be here only later.”

“Last one got canceled,” he tried not to focus on your face, rather at your hands and how you splattered everything at the table, making a small smile appear on his lips. “You know you don’t need to bring your whole house to your classes and such, right?”

“As if you don’t always try to get at least one of these from me whenever we study together,” you laughed before throwing an eraser in his direction which he easily catches, making you roll your eyes. “Anyway, do you mind if someone joins our study session?”

“Someone?”

It wasn’t common for that to happen, mostly because either of you had a project together with someone else, but since classes had barely started, it didn’t really made sense for someone else to enter your little study sessions.

“Yeah, he’s actually my senior, we gonna help each other out in two different projects,” if you had been paying attention, you’d notice how Jongho’s eyes widened slightly and how his Adam’s apple went up and down nervously. He had seen you before with other guys, going out and having fun, but it always caught him off guard when you asked first, since the last time you asked if someone could join, ‘they’ ended up becoming your boyfriend. “He’s super nice I promise you’ll like him! His name is Seonghwa and he’s the sweetest!”

“Oh, yeah,” he tried to compose himself a little so you wouldn’t notice the frown on his face or how slightly annoyed he was. Although he didn’t really expect you to see through his actions or wait for him to finally grow a pair and finally ask you out, it still hurt the fact that everything didn’t seem anything other than a friend caring for another, “is he coming now or?”

“(y/n)?” Both raised your heads as a figured stood beside you, making Jongho hide his jealousy the best he could. The man was one of the most wanted guys on college. Perfect slick back hair, perfect teeth, perfect smile, perfect height, perfect body, perfectly polite, a gentleman if all, and he had his eyes focused on you, as your smile spread widely as his presence was noted. “Hope I didn’t take too long, had to fix a few things with the teacher.”

So, he was supposed to join regardless of what Jongho said? What if he said no? Would you still have had Seonghwa joining in on your session?

“Hey Seonghwa! It’s okay, don’t worry!” You two exchanged quick hugs before you pointed to Jongho. “This is the guy I was telling you about, Jongho!”

“Oh, the famous Jongho! Hello!” Famous?, Seonghwa’s hand was stretched out to Jongho who quickly took it, a polite smile on his lips as Seonghwa took the chair on your side. “I’m so sorry to barge in and wanting to do this fast, I just -”

“It’s okay, I know,” God and you gave him that smile? Jongho quickly lowered his head, trying to focus on the book in front of him, trying to ignore how you and Seonghwa giggled at each other. “- right, Jjong?”

His head quickly raised at the sound of his name leaving your lips, finding both you and Seonghwa staring back at him, before clearing his own throat trying to buy a little bit of time.

“Yeah, sure,” that was the right answer, or at least he hoped, although he knew he would say yes to whatever you asked of him. As he watched your smile widening, he couldn’t help but smile himself, but once your attention shifted to Seonghwa, who also had a big smile, something shifted in him, not going unnoticed by the senior. “I- I have to go though -”

“What already?” You whined making his movements stop for a second, Seonghwa’s eyes not missing the interaction between you and your best friend. “I just got here! We were supposed to go to the diner later on our way back!”

“I won’t be long, I just needed to check all the details,” Seonghwa’s voice was quick, his gaze shifting between you and Jongho, “sorry to interrupt, we talk later, yes? I’ll text you!”

He had your number already?, Jongho cursed himself at that thought, he was your senior, you were doing a project together, of course he would have your number, but why did that bother him so much?

“Ok, we’ll talk more later, I’ll also check with Mingi and Yunho about when you can come over so we can start the project!”

“I’ll try to reason with Hongjoong, but with Eden’s last feedback he got into his own head and -”

“I get it!” You cut him with a smile, Jongho’s eyes observing everything, how your smile would widen, and a small giggle came out at Seonghwa’s words, how his eyes would linger a little longer on your face before falling down and back up. “I’ll text you once I get back from the boys, okay?”

“Yeah sure! Thank you (y/n), you are a life saver and,” as the seniors voice trailed away, Jongho realized he was now the focus of the attention as you eyed him pointing your head towards Seonghwa, who studied Jongho’s reactions, “thank you Jongho, it’s really nice to meet you, I’m happy to have finally met (y/n)’s best friend after all the things she said about you.”

“What did she say?” His eyes traveled down to you who lowered your head, but he could still see the red tips of your ears and the shy smile on your lips before looking back at Seonghwa who had his eyebrows slightly raised at the two of you. Clearing his throat, Jongho turned his attention to the senior. “Either way, it was a pleasure to meet you too Seonghwa.”

The older one just nodded with a small smirk your way before kissing the top of your head and walk out of the library. Jongho’s leg bouncing like crazy under the desk, trying to not demonstrate how that small interaction made his intestines twist, his jealous curiosity trying to figure it out how did you two got so close so fast. It was only when he saw your raised eyebrows that he notices he had been staring, again.

“Okay, spit it out,” you crossed your arms on top of the book, your eyes analyzing his face, “he is nice, you seemed to like him, so why that frown on your head is present?”

“I don’t have a frown,” the bouncing getting worse as he turned his eyes away from you, who quickly kicked his still leg under the table, getting a surprised look. “That hurt,” you just smiled tilting your head making him sigh, “how long have you known him though? You plan on having him at your place, are the guys okay with that?”

A shadow of confusion crossed your face before a wide cocky smile take place as you pointed your pen to him.

“You didn’t listen to anything we talked about, did you?” Jongho sighs and lower his head before hearing you scoff and kick him again, making him eye you annoyed. “You didn’t listen to what you agreed and now you are jealous?”

“I’m not jealous,” although he tried to change the topic, you didn’t bulge, throwing the pen you were holding towards him, making him glare at you before shaking his head. “Okay, maybe I didn’t listen to everything, but that doesn’t mean I’m jealous!”

“If you say so,” the victorious smile you had almost made Jongho say something, but what he really wanted was to kiss that away. So what he was jealous? “Either way, you better control your not-jealous face tomorrow, Hwa and Joong are already -”

“Why tomorrow?” You eyed him shaking your head. “What did I agree to?”

“You’ll find out tomorrow once we arrive at Hwa’s place.”

“You barely know him and you calling him ‘Hwa’ and planning on going to his house and-”

“With you,” you cut him slightly annoyed but still amused, you loved when Jongho showed his jealous and protective side, trying to ignore how your heart was beating out of your chest because of that, “I’m going there with you tomorrow, as you agreed, and while you do what you agreed, me and Seonghwa will work on our projects.”

“And what the hell am I doing there?”

The cheeky smile you sent his way make him swallow hard, before you shake your head focusing back on your books.

“That’s on you for not paying attention and agreeing to something you don’t even know what it is.”

Although he tried his best, he couldn’t hold back a smile at your words and the smile you sent him. He couldn’t tell you he just said yes without thinking because it was you who had asked him. He couldn’t pretend he would say ‘yes’ to whatever it was that you might ask of him. He was down bad for his best friend, that was the truth as much as he tried to hide it.

“Earth to lover boy!” Before he could process, one of the cushions of the couch found his head making Jongho glare at two of his roommates, noticing as they exchanged smiles, San shaking his head, as Wooyoung appeared to be having the time of this life. “What did you and (y/n) do today? You are more distant than usual.”

“Nothing happened, what you talking about?”

Jongho sigh and joined them on the couch, San’s eyes lingered on the youngest one a little longer, but before anyone could say anything, Yeosang appeared on the hall, a towel on his shoulder and his clothes in a basket, a knowing smile on his lips, making all the other frown.

“You are not a good liar Jjong,” Yeosang laughed putting his laundry in as all three waited patiently for the older one to emerge. “I saw you three at the library.”

“Three?”

San and Wooyoung said in unison, but Jongho lips were sealed shut, cursing Yeosang as his smile grew wider. The eldest was an innocent angel most of the times, but he could be even more wicked than Wooyoung when he wanted to.

“Jjong and (y/n) were talking when Park Seonghwa entered the library joining them.”

“Wait, THE Park Seonghwa?”

Yeosang nodded at San’s question, both quick to understand why Jongho was sulking so much, but Wooyoung needed more, he always needed more and Jongho was starting to serious considering killing his best friends at that moment.

“The Park Seonghwa? Perfect, handsome, hot looking guy Park Seonghwa? The one that can have any pussy and dick he wants at any time, just by looking at someone?” San and Yeosang tried to hide a laugh as Jongho’s head slightly turned to focus on the second youngest that was still processing the fact that Seonghwa had been around Jongho and you in the afternoon. “Oh, I’m not condemning (y/n), that dick is probably a 10/10!”

“Woo!”

The other two said the same time Jongho’s fist found Wooyoung’s arm, make the other complain in pain holding his arm.

“What? If Jjong isn’t gonna act he can’t be mad if other guys show interest in (y/n)!” Everyone knew Wooyoung was right, Jongho even sigh holding his head down, the image of you and Seonghwa still carved in his brain. “Look, (y/n) is beautiful, smart, kind, funny, any guy would want a girl like that, you can’t blame Seonghwa for that, but,” all eyes turned to him, a cheeky grin on Wooyoung’s lips before he focused on Jongho, “that doesn’t mean you are out of the race, not until he asks and she accepts being with him.”

“Wooyoung is right,” San said with a smile, following the line of the thoughts Wooyoung was trying to show, Yeosang quickly joining them, also understanding what his friend was saying, all three receiving a head shake from Jongho. “C’mon Jjong, you know Woo is right!” As Jongho lifted his head, the others tried to hide a smile, maybe this time he’d listen and finally ask you out. “Why don’t you ask her out tomorrow? Go to the diner, pretend is a normal day and ask her out, ask her to give you a chance, but check first if her and Seonghwa aren’t together.”

“We are going to Seonghwa’s apartment tomorrow,” a groan escapes all their mouths, but Yeosang was quick to stand up, his thinking face making itself visible for all of them. “What is it Yeo?”

“Know your enemy!” All the others kept waiting for Yeosang to finish as we shook his head seating back down, a smart smile on his lips. “First, do you know why you two going to his house?” Jongho shook his head making the others giggle.

“He was probably too busy staring at (y/n).”

Jongho joked he was gonna hit Wooyoung again, making the second youngest try to hide behind San, making the other three laugh.

“I mean, you are not entirely wrong,” he sighs and noticed the other three waiting for him to explain what had happened, “I mean, once he was there, I tried to ignore how she was looking at him, I mean, have you seen the guy?!” All the other nodded, but Jongho ignored sighing, the image of you smiling and giggling with Seonghwa coming back into his mind like a slap in the face. “So, I tried to focus on my studies, which didn’t really work, until she asked me a question and I just nodded agreeing -”

“Yeah, because you are down bad!”

“A simp of the worst kind!”

“Bet you were just trying not to get caught drooling over her.”

He scoffs shaking his head at his best friends’ remarks, getting out the couch hearing them complaining before turning with a hidden smile.

“Look, I know I’m a simp okay? How could I not be? Not when she looks and acts like that!”

“I mean, she’s not too far behind you, so -”

“What you talking about, San?”

The older ones exchanged looks. It wasn’t uncommon for them to turn to Jongho saying you had a crush on him, that they could tell, but he never really bought that, always thinking they were playing with him, so they had stopped talking about it, even if it was obvious how you two looked at each other whenever you were in the same space.

“The same way you are down bad for her, she is for you.”

Jongho scoffed and the other three rolled their eyes.

“She could have Park Seonghwa on around her pinky! Why would she want me?”

“I agree, I never said she was good in the head,” the face Jongho made brought a laugh to the two older ones as Wooyoung was quick on his feet with his hands in front of him asking for Jongho to wait for him to finish, “look, all I’m saying is that you two are blind when it comes to each other, okay? You may not see the way she looks at you, but everyone else does.”

“Why you think people don’t usually come at her asking for a date?” Yeosang continued, standing up just like Wooyoung, standing in front of Jongho with arched eyebrows. “You may be a teddy bear, but you are fucking scary when you want and the looks you give to any guy that approaches her gives us the chills!”

“She dated before, what you guys talking about?”

“She dated because she was tired of waiting for you and someone else took the initiative,” San joined the other two in front of Jongho making the younger one groan in frustration, “look, we don’t know if (y/n) and Seonghwa are together or something, it may be just a homework thing, Seonghwa is an outgoing person, he talks to a lot of people, it may not be what you think.”

“You didn’t see the way he looked at her.”

“Was it anything like you look at her?”

“What was that supposed to mean Yeosang?”

“Did it look like she held the sun, moon and stars, the air in his lungs, like a ray of sunshine after a gloomy day, or -”

“I don’t look at her like that,” he cut Wooyoung making all the other three leave snarky smiles at that comment. “Do I look at her like that?”

“Only when you know she’s not looking at you.”

San commented putting a hand on Jongho’s shoulder pulling him back to the couch and seating him down by the shoulders, the other three circled him with knowing smiles, maybe that was the last push he needed to finally grow a pair and talk to you about his feelings, feelings everyone knew you also had for him, except himself.

“Fine, what do I have to do?”

He was a coward.

He was the most coward person you could ever find.

In his defense, you ended up going to the house first, so he couldn’t bring up anything before, as originally planned and, once he arrived, you were already working on your project with Seonghwa in the living room as you two guided him to meet with Hongjoong.

He needed someone to sing this ballad he had done, but the lyrics were still a mess, and his voice wasn’t as fitting for the song as was expected, the instrumental was almost done, but without the person to sing it, it felt hollow, broken, exactly like the words Eden used to described one of Hongjoong’s latest works.

If he was honest, Jongho liked the lyrics and the instrumental, he knew the song was incomplete, but he liked it nonetheless, the instrumentals were heavenly, as you were so quick to say once Hongjoong finally showed you what he was working on. That was when all his courage fell into pieces.

“Hongjoong! How is this even better than before the summer break? You are a music genius, don’t listen too much into Eden’s words!”

And you kissed him.

On the cheek.

But it was still a kiss.

Seonghwa’s hands firm on your waist, Hongjoong holding your hand with a shy smile.

You and Seonghwa being way too comfortable with each other never made so much sense until that point. You two were hooking up, or almost at it. His hand always on you, waist, hip, shoulder, arm, you name it! He had lost his chance, again.

“- that’s why Jongho is here, right bear?”

Your eyes lit up to find his, a shadow of something caught you off guard, but he quickly nodded, the shadow no longer there, but still made you question what had happened.

“Yeah sure, but I still don’t know how much of a help I can be.”

“Our little angel said your voice is incredible, we need someone to sing that song Joong is writing.”

Our little angel.

God he just wanted to die at that moment.

All the others noticed something was wrong, but as you stepped closer, Hongjoong quickly moved his chair as Seonghwa pulled you closer to him.

“Look, you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to, (y/n) showed us some of the recordings from your singing and you have one of the most amazing voices I’ve ever heard and I could also use of another music major for this, you’ll have your credit, don’t worry about that, but I want this to be memorable, perfect even, and I think you can help me achieve that if we work together.”

It was a love song.

You could easily tell by the guide Hongjoong had done with the lyrics he had it done, adding the soft melodic instruments the song was incredibly powerful. Jongho’s eyes found yours, they had concern in them, you were blaming yourself for the discomfort he was feeling, probably because you knew he was shy and singing in front of millions – although it was his dream – was still something too far away to grasp, even with the tips of his fingers.

The fact you had showed them the singing videos, how they acted around you, their little angel, it was more than obvious to him that you and Seonghwa were a thing, you were just trying to find a way to let him know. Hell, he knew you loved to hear him sing, maybe he could use that song to let you know how he felt, all the feelings he harbored for you could go into that song, a small letting go present. He could never be with you, because regardless of his friends’ avid points, you weren’t in love with him like he was with you.

In love.

God how something so beautiful can be such a painful thing?

“I’ll do it.”

And that was how he found himself in Hongjoong and Seonghwa’s place every other weekend. He and Hongjoong working on the song, while you and Seonghwa were somewhere in the apartment as he tried not to notice whenever your laugh became too loud or you two became too quiet, trying not to focus on the idea that you two might be in his room while he was -

“What’s up with you today?”

The song was quickly cut out as Hongjoong stared at Jongho, your muffled laugh and scream managing to pass the soundproof situation Hongjoong created so they could work on the music before using the studio the music students were allowed in only for the final version.

“Nothing is wrong, sorry, I’ll focus I -”

Both were cut as steps were felt on the other side of the door and Hongjoong noticed how Jongho’s face fell as your muffled scream was heard along with Seonghwa’s laugh.

“You do know they are just friends, right?” Jongho’s eyes peaked up at the ‘friends’ word, trying to ignore the smirk that appeared on the elder’s face. “God you two are infuriating, Hwa was right, damn it.”

“What you talking about? They are just friends? But -”

“Seonghwa is in a relationship,” Jongho stopped talking at that, waiting as Hongjoong sighed raising his eyebrows, “me and him are together, we call (y/n) our angel because otherwise we wouldn’t have happened.”

“So… All of this… What -”

“You two are just as idiots as we were,” Hongjoong got up from the chair getting closer to Jongho that was still processing the information, “your voice wasn’t the only reason why we made her talk to you to participate, but also because we wanted to be sure you were just as into her as she is into you.”

“Oh,” he said as he tried to ignore the image of Wooyoung saying ‘I told you so’ popping into his mind. “How can you be sure?”

“Because she told us,” at Jongho’s shocked eyes Hongjoong laughed loudly before going towards the computer playing the song they have been working on for the past month, as it came to an end, the elder’s eyes found the younger ones at the ground. “Did you write those parts thinking about her?”

“That obvious?” Jongho sat down on the couch looking into the sheet of paper with the lyrics, missing the way Hongjoong eyed him. “She’s my best friend Hongjoong, I- I can’t fuck this up and lose her, what if -”

“Can I suggest something?” Jongho’s eyes lifted to meet with Hongjoong’s analytical ones, a simple nod was all he managed to give in response. “Tomorrow you two leave early, you take her back to your place, we’ll talk to Yunho and Mingi and make them find a way to keep her away from the house, you get your roommates out and shoot your shot, but do it properly, she deserves something great after all the time you made her wait.”

Having only Wooyoung, Yeosang and San up his ass about you was nothing compared into having Hongjoong, Seonghwa, Yunho and Mingi as well. Unlucky for him, Seonghwa easily got one of his roommates’ numbers, since he already had Yunho and Mingi’s, and it was easy to make a group chat which made Jongho almost killed Wooyoung for the nth time every time he saw the group chat name pop up.

wooyoung @ please get the baby laid okay, so san is taking care of the fort with yeo I’m almost done with the food, who is coming to pick us up?

yunho @ please get the baby laid I will, if hwa and joong do it she’ll suspect

mingi @ please get the baby laid she already suspects something is up bc we said she cant come home

yunho @ please get the baby laid yeah, bc your excuse was shit

hongjoong @ please get the baby laid it was a horrible excuse, but since it was mingi she let it slide

seonghwa @ please get the baby laid also bc jjong distracted her with books and a trip to the cafe

wooyoung @ please get the baby laid so I made dinner for nothing?

san @ please get the baby laid ignore him, we ready, we leaving the food in the oven

yeosang @ please get the baby laid yunho don’t forget to grab the chocolate bouquet on your way over!

yunho @ please get the baby laid I wont, I’m on my way!

“Are you cheating on me?” Jongho never locked his phone a put it away as fast as in that moment, making you raise your eyebrows and open your mouth slightly. “Who is she? Is she prettier than me?”

“Of course not, you are the most beautiful person to walk on earth,” that wasn’t a lie in his view, it was also something he would casually drop at you from time to time, you knew that, but still, always surprised you, awakening the butterflies in your stomach you tried to always keep dormant. “I may be an idiot but I’m not that idiot to be cheating on my favorite girl in this world.”

Ever since yesterday Jongho decided to be bolder, to show more of his true intentions to you, his true feelings, and he was loving every hint of pink and red he could see on your face and ears. It almost made him realize that, maybe, this may work. That the others were right and you both felt the same thing, and God he wish it would be true.

“You can’t say shit like that Jjong!”

“Why not? It’s not a lie.”

Maybe, but you playing with my feelings is a problem, you wanted to scream that at him. Cursing him over and over thanks to all the things he had awoken at the same time in you since the day before once you two left Hwa and Joong’s apartment. You couldn’t lie and pretend you weren’t enjoying the attention, not that you liked the fact that Seonghwa and Hongjoong forgot to tell both of you they had a date with tickets they bought a few weeks prior, or even the fact that Mingi said you couldn’t go home until late at night, you knew he probably would have someone over and wouldn’t want you or Yunho to hear him, so you were more than happy when Jongho said his roommates wouldn’t be home and you could stay there as long as you wanted.

You just didn’t expect all the flirting he was doing, but you would never complain.

“People may think something else,” you focused on your drink and the three hard cover books he bought for you, your fingers lingering a little longer on the titles, his eyes focused on you, observing, trying to get any hint you may give him, “besides, I’ve seen some girls looking at you while we were picking up the drinks, one of them looks really pretty and your type.”

It hurt you to say these, but he was your best friend and nothing more could ever happen, or you may lose him. You didn’t care if Seonghwa, Hongjoong, Yunho and Mingi kept saying you were just running away, taking the easy way out, the cowards way, the thought of possibly losing Jongho was too much of a risk, you preferred to have him as a friend than nothing at all, all because you couldn’t help yourself on falling for your best friend.

“I don’t want them though,” the form he said it, so nonchalant caught your attention, making you eye him curious, trying to hide the hurt that you felt inside, the idea that he may have someone. You knew he had been with other people before, but he never really introduced you to them. Once you realized that you tried to move on, started dating someone, but there was only one man that made you feel wanted and loved, and that man was sitting in front of you drinking his americano. “I already have someone in mind, it would be mean to get involved with someone if I have another on mind, no?”

The entering of the knife was quick, but the twist was tortuously slow, the final blow being the smile he gave you. The smile you loved so much that you had only seen directed to you, but now he’s using it to talk about someone else, someone that it wasn’t you.

“Who is she?”

“You know her,” he chuckled at your reaction before continuing, “but I don’t think she sees me like that much, although the guys say I’m just over thinking it, that she definitely likes me and -”

“She’d have to be crazy not to like you, baby bear,” your hand reached his over the table, it didn’t matter if your heart bled, all you ever want is to see Jongho happy, even if it’s not with you. “You are one of the most incredible human beings I’ve ever met, whoever has your heart will be forever loved and I envy that.”

At his raise of eyebrows, you quickly realized what you had said and tried to pull your hand away, but his fingers wrapped around yours, intertwining your fingers, your eyes quickly went to the girls you saw talking and eyeing Jongho earlier, finding their eyes on your hands before moving away, making a victorious smile play on your lips.

He was still yours for the time being and that was enough.

“What got you all smiley?”

“Nothing,” you said quickly trying to pull your hand away, but his grip was strong but careful around your hand, just like everything he did regarding you, “baby bear, it’s nothing, can I have my hand back?”

You giggled at the pout he gave you, the puppy eyes staring around you two before resting on you again trying to understand what had happened. Your hands quickly found your drink as so did his. While you couldn’t hold a smile while drinking, he couldn’t help his cute little pout at what you had done.

“Want me to be your wingman?” He questioned after a while, making you eye him confused as his eyes fell on your hand that was enveloped by the warmth of his hands not long prior, a small guilt filing your insides. “That’s why you dropped my hand, right? So, show me who he is, I’ll be nice, I promise.”

“It’s not that Jjong,” you said quickly as soon as he stopped, his eyes had a different shine, one that you had seen at the library a few weeks ago when Seonghwa appeared to ask Jongho to sing to Hongjoong’s song, for a second you thought you had made Jongho jealous, and you felt good for a second, until he wanted to leave and you panicked. The control he had over you was surreal and all you wanted was to take his hand on your and kiss it tenderly in front of everyone, “I dropped your hand because…”

“(y/n) it’s okay, I promise I -”

“I have someone in mind too,” you said it so quickly your mind couldn’t follow through, putting a hand in front of your mouth before focusing on your drink, “he also has no idea and, I’ve been into him for a while now, I tried to make him see it, but apparently he doesn’t see me as anything other than a friend and that’s okay, and since we are in a public place, if the girl you have eyes on sees us, it may ruin it for you so I-”

“Wanna go home?”

“You know I can’t go home.”

“Weren’t we going to mines?” His smile was soft; the shadow of a moment ago disappeared. Jongho was good at hiding, it didn’t take you long to realize that, so you nodded getting your coffee as his hands took your books putting on the bag with some other things you bought at the book section. “We can talk about it when we arrive, will that be okay?”

“We don’t have to Jjong.”

The truth was, you didn’t want to hear him talk about the girl that caught his attention, you wanted to be that girl. Once you finally stood up from the table, his right hand found your left making you gasp in surprise on how hot they were despite the ice americano he was having it. That was one of the things you liked the most about Jongho, how warm he always was, how his warmth would always find you and embrace you, always accompanied by the smell of his cologne. Which was one of the reasons you always loved when fall started, because he would lend you some sweatshirts and jumpers with his smell, even when you didn’t ask, he always had them.

As he guided both of you back to his apartment, you allowed yourself to feel the warmth of his hand and body next you whenever you could, cursing at every heavy wind that hit your face taking his cologne and warmth from you, making you involuntarily hide behind him, making him chuckle every time, until he stopped turning to face you. His perfect cupid’s bow just a few centimeters from you, as the wind hit again, he pulled you closer, your hands going around his waist under the coat he had opened, your face hiding against his chest, his cologne clouding your thoughts, but little did you know the effect that had on him.

Seonghwa and Yunho were right when they said you might say you were into someone depending on the situation, and if you did, this guy it would be him. The fact you couldn’t look him in the eye while saying those things, the reaction you had to the girls that flirted with him earlier noticing your intertwined fingers and leaving, how happy you were at that, how right your hand felt in his, the small hurt he saw in your eyes and face at the thought of Jongho liking someone and this person seeing them together. How could he have been so blind for so long? How could you not see how he acted around you?

“Here,” he said stepping a little away from you, both highly aware of how your hands still lingered on his waist, but you couldn’t bring yourself to move away, if he could, he would kiss you right then and there, “we can’t have you catching a cold and stopping to hide behind me everything a wind blows, so…,” his hands swiftly took the scarf off his neck placing around your own, covering your lips and nose, only your eyes visible to him as he took your hand back making you both get back into walking, “we almost home, so we won’t be cold for long.”

You wanted to stop him, to make him hug you again, to feel him close again, but all you did was follow his steps as you started to see the outline of his apartment in the distance. Although you knew none of his roommates were gonna be there, you caught yourself craving Wooyoung’s food. Maybe, just maybe, you could stay until they come back and ask him to make you something, that way you could also spend more time to Jongho.

You have been to his apartment multiple times, but something felt different, probably because you finally realized he might get a girlfriend, that you had lost him for good, because no one in their right mind would let him go, only if they were insane. Which was exactly what you were as you noticed he may never be yours because of how much of a coward you were.

As the sound of the lock along with the turning of the lights made you raise your head, you stopped dead on your tracks. There was a fort blanket in the living room, you could smell Wooyoung’s food – although you couldn’t see it – and you noticed as Jongho stopped behind you, his breathing on your ear as one of his hands found your hip and the other your arm squeezing both lightly, making you gasp.

“Surprise,” the chuckle made you wake up and eye him curious, only receiving a small smirk in response as he headed to the kitchen, your steps were cautious, there was no reason for this to be happening, nothing bad had happened. As your feet led you to the living room, you found fairy lights all over the place, the tv on playing an ambient music, “(y/n), come eat!”

Instantly, Wooyoung’s food filled your lungs and you drooled at the thought of what he had made and why he had made dinner. Were any of the boys in a romantic date before you arrived and didn’t have the time to pull it down? But then why would Jongho tell you it was a surprise? As you finally reached the kitchen, you found a banquet at the island, making you scream a little and jump, making Jongho chuckled before start preparing a plate for the both of you before heading back to the living room. The fort blanket already awaiting the both of you, a small memory from the time you two were children.

For a moment, both of you just enjoyed the meal Wooyoung had made, reminding you to thank him, which made Jongho said to also thank San and Yeosang for building the fort. You wanted to ask him then and there what that was all about, but something stopped you. Maybe it was the way he was enjoying the meal, the comforting silence between the two of you. How your knees touched on occasion but none of you had a care in the world if that kept happening, ignoring the electric shocks that ran through both your bodies.

Jongho changed the ambient sound to one of your comfort shows, the coffee table quickly pushed to the side with both plates on top along with two empty bottles of soju. You two were sitting with the backs on the couch, his left arm lazily hugging your shoulders, the tips of his fingers feather like along your arm, sometimes playing with your hair when you rested your head on his shoulder.

Trying not to think how warm he was, how close he was, how drunk on his cologne you were, how deep in love you were with your best friend. As you moved, Jongho swiftly took your legs putting on top of his, holding them in place as him right hand burned your skin despite the jeans you wore. Ignoring how he pulled you closer, only a little more and you were on his lap, his left arm still enveloping you, caressing your left arm and pulling you closer from time to time as your head on occasion would fall a little more. If you only had the courage, you could easily kiss the crook of his neck, his cologne filling your lungs, it wasn’t like you needed anything more to live if you had him.

When the second episode finished your head was already heavy, barely noticing as Jongho tried to untangle the two of you, a groan escaping your lips making him laugh before kissing your temple, being careful as he started to make some distance between you two. What he didn’t understand was that the groan was for nothing more than the idea of having him far away. His warm, cologne, the homey feeling you had with him whenever you two were together. You now realized what you were going to miss the moment he asks out the girl he has eyes on, you were going to lose him, even if he was never actually yours.

You watched as he took the plates on his hands. The third episode had started, but all you could do was stare at the spot Jongho was prior. All you could feel was how your skin burned and body ached to be closer to him again. His flirty demeanor had got to you. All the feelings you fought so greatly every day for the past years to keep low, he brought to the surface.

“(y/n)?” Your eyes turned to the spot Jongho had left, finding a chocolate bouquet before you could see him coming back to the fort. The smile on your lips made his gummy smile becoming more visible. “I was supposed to give this to you on the way out, but couldn’t wait,” his shy smile had returned as you took the chocolate bouquet in your arms, fingers trying to see all the chocolates that were there before eye him with startled eyes, “too much? Too much, right? Okay, sorry I -”

“Jjong, what is all of this?”

“What you mean?”

You sigh putting the bouquet down.

You wanted to say it wasn’t too much, not really, but with everything he was doing, it was. He was playing with your feelings, even if he didn’t know about them. The talk from earlier came back to you, maybe he was trying to make you feel better? Maybe, Mingi, Yunho or Hongjoong had said something to him about your crush on him without saying your name and now he wanted to cheer you up?

A small chuckle left your lips, because that’s definitely something Jongho would do.

That’s one of the reasons you love him so much.

Love.

You were in love with you best friend, all it took was for him to flirt with you openly for a day for you to admit that. You sigh as your eyes returned to the bouquet to focus on him again, a small pout on his lips. He thought you hated it everything he did, which made you hate yourself at that.

“You said surprise, but nothing happened for us to have a movie fort blanket night and the boys not being here…,” you noticed how his head focused on the way your hand enveloped his own, the warmth not only staying in your hand as his eyes found yours. “Jongho, what’s this? If this is yours and the guys’ way of saying it’s okay for the guy I like not to -”

“Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?” His eyes were focused on you, making you suddenly feel self-conscious, trying to shy away but at the same time wanting his attention on you, wanting the way he was looking at you. “I don’t mean on the outside, of course you are beautiful on the outside, but I meant as a whole, you are beautiful, incredible, talented, intelligent, kind, and so much more that I could spend the rest of our lives telling you about it,” you gulped but didn’t move away as Jongho approached you slightly, testing the waters, “I’m sorry it took me too long to notice, I’m sorry for being a coward and take too long to say it, but -”

He cut himself looking to both your hands. You weren’t responsive; you were a statue watching him declare his love for you, he was questioning himself again, all the signs he had seen earlier vanished from his mind, the courage to finally tell you his feelings evaporated like water in a hot day, he started to sulk in his seat, mad at himself, as he felt your hand touch his cheek, an electric current going through his body full speed as he raised his eyes to meet your halfway.

“Jjong, please...”

You couldn’t finish, because you too were a coward.

You loved him, but did he love you too? Was that his way of confessing that he wanted you just as bad you wanted him? For just as long as you wanted him?

“I love you, (y/n),” he saw the moment your breathing stopped, how your hand fell from his face, your warmth going away with it, your eyes a mix of feelings that he couldn’t follow, “you are the one I like (y/n), you are the one I love.”

It was like your brain stopped functioning, your eyes watered and Jongho panicked for a second before holding his hand that was going to wipe your tear away.

“Please don’t joke about this, not about this, Jjong.”

“I could never joke about my feelings for you, (y/n), ever.”

The small smile was all he needed before leaning closer to you, slowly, watching your every reaction, expecting the denial he always thought he’d find if he confessed his love, but instead you met him halfway. A simple and tender touch of lips made both of your bodies combust. Eyes meeting for half a second before he pulls you closer to him again and you obliged to his wants, because kissing him was all you had on your mind since you were thirteen.

His hands were firmly on your hips pulling you to him as you were quick to put each leg on either side of his left leg, your hands messing up his hair, the kiss was hungry, urgent, just like his hands as he explored your back, ass and thighs. None of you cared about breathing, it was an inconvenient at best, you could live without air, but you couldn’t live without feeling each other’s lips anymore.

You whined as his lips disconnected from your mouth finding your jaw, teeth sinking into your skin as you pulled Jongho’s hair, the moan reverberating on your skin. Your whole body ignited at that sound, wanting to hear it more, you needed to hear it more. As you let your body weigh down, you felt his thigh under you, God how you imagined this scenario so many times before. Instinctively you started to move your hips slowly against his thigh, making him stop kissing your neck and look up at you.

One of his hands hugged your thigh, the other firm on your waist as your movements became more preeminent. As your head finally lowered finding his hungry eyes observing your features as you rocked your hips on his thigh, embarrassment quickly flooded you, making you stop and try to move away from him. Instead of letting you, his hand on your thigh found your back and pulled you closer to him.

You could feel the pool in between your legs, the arousal making you uncomfortable, begging you to continue, but something was holding you back, and you couldn’t stare at Jongho in the eyes. As his arm enveloped your waist, his left hand found your face, fingers lightly on your chin making you meet his eyes.

The hunger was still there, the lust, but they were tender, careful, the effect of feeling secured in his embrace along with the eyes of admiration and understanding made your whole body burn as he pulled you closer, locking your lips again. It was calm, almost experimental. Your arms were quick on his shoulders as your hands found the nap of his neck, one of them playing with his hair as the kissed deepened.

It was only when you felt his hands on your hips guide you across his thigh and the friction you felt making you moan in between the kiss, that you forced the break eyeing him curious. The smirk was present, but it wasn’t cocky, it was wholesome.

“Am I dreaming?”

He chuckled as he pulled you closer to him by your hips, moving them so gently on top of his thigh as he flexed them, thanks to the clothes the movement wasn’t very perceptive, also because you buckled your hips up as you felt his muscle against your clothed core, making him chuckle a little more.

“So, you’ve dreamed about me?”

“Jjong, please…,” his hands again moved your hips against his thigh making you bite your lip but not break eye contact this time. “I may have had a few dreams about you yes.”

“Did I made you feel good on them?” You nodded as his hands pulled your hips down, flexing his thigh as you were now in control of your own hips. “I’ve had them too, you know?” Your half-lidded eyes causing his pants to be an even bigger bothersome as a small moan left your mouth. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

“Jjong?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up and make me feel good, yeah?”

“Anything for you, my love.”

With that his mouth lashed back into yours as he guided your hips across his thighs. As you couldn’t help but keep your mouth open from the stimulation, his mouth found your neck, going all the way down to your chest, open mouth kisses being left on the open cleavage, eyes on you at every single movement he made.

You were so busy riding his thigh that you barely realized his hands were no longer on your hips as one of them went under your shirt, the tips of his fingers tingling against your burning skin as his other hand had a grip on your thigh. The build up on your lower stomach making it harder for you to concentrate as his hands grabbed those both parts of your body, you were sure your waist would have the imprint of his hands.

“Oh God, please-fuck,” your breathing was hollow, your legs ached but you couldn’t stop, it was too close to grasp, your fingers digging onto Jongho’s shoulder as you felt his lips on your neck again, his hand on your thigh pulling it more apart making your whole body weigh rest on his thigh as he flexed it once again, making a cried moan leave your lips, “fuck, Jjong, so good.”

“Let it go sweetheart, I’m here, this is just the first of the night,” you shot your eyes open finding the smirk present and he quickly gave you a peck on the lips, hands back on your hips as he kept making you move them, “use me for now, I wanna see you come undone on my thigh, please.”

It was the ‘please’ that made you lose it.

Your whole body trembled as you pulled Jongho’s face close to you as his hands gently moved your hips running you out of your high as your swollen lips let go of his own. He was glowing under you, his eyes were shining like a stary night and all you wanted was for this to never end, if it were a dream so you would never wake up.

As his hands came back into roaming your body, you came to your senses.

You had just cum by riding his thigh.

He saw the small panic look in your eyes and pulled you closer to him, kissing your lips as he lifted you up, his right leg quickly joining the left under you as you straddled him properly. Once again pulling you down on him, making you feel his bulge under you, making you both moan before making eye contact.

“This is real.”

“As real as it can be sweetheart,” he pulled you closer again kissing you tenderly as you rocked your hips against the outline of his cock, a moan escaping both your mouths as you allowed your weight down on his lap. “Are you sure you wanna keep going?”

“Do you?”

“I asked you first,” his small smile was back as you backed away from him, although you never stopped moving your hips, feeling him getting harder and harder under you, closing his eyes trying to control his breathing making you smile. “Sweetheart, I love you, but I can’t keep going unless you tell me you want me to.”

“I thought I said I wanted you to make me feel good, baby bear.”

You smile as your hands went to the back of his head playing with his hair pulling slightly making him groan, your smile widening at that as his hands gripped your ass squeezing it harshly making you moan.

“Guess I shall make your dreams come true then.”

“Please do.”

He smiled as in a swift move he turned you both and put you on the couch, your hips on the edge with him between your legs. Although you said it was okay, his eyes still lingered on your face as he unbuttoned your jeans sliding them away from your body before tossing them somewhere in the fort. Your thighs shut as his hands went to your knees, gently putting force to see if you were having second thoughts.

Why was he so thoughtful and careful?

You decided that after this, was your time to make him feel good, but right now you wanted his head between your thighs. At that you spread your legs, a mix of embarrassment and confident took hold of your body as you watched him take in your soaked panties. His eyes finding yours once again and you nodded, feeling the tingle in the base of your stomach coming back.

His fingers taking the last piece of fabric between you and his mouth, ever so gently, still watching every single one of your reactions. The truth was, neither of you could believe this was happening, it all felt like a dream, but it was real. It was real and Jongho would do his best for this to be the best night of your life.

As your panties finally met the ground, his eyes focused on your dripping cunt as you held the urge to close your legs, but he noticed the twitch, his focused was on you as he slowly and gently held your legs open, his lips kissing all the way to your left knee to your mid-thigh, before closing in on your hip, looking at you one last time, finding pure lust in your eyes, making him smile as his lips finally met your throbbing clit.

The gasp came in sync with the jolt of your hips, but Jongho was faster holding them down with a smirk that made you roll your eyes. He was having fun with all your reactions; you couldn’t pretend you weren’t enjoying it as well seeing the smudge grin on his face. Before you could say anything, his lips found your clit again, but this time, kitty licks were added to it, making you squirm a little as he held your hips down.

He licked a long stripe at your dripping cunt before starting to suck on your clit, making your back arch as you moaned loudly, your right hand quickly finding his hair pulling it harshly as you were still a little dazed from your previous orgasm. Your hips quickly moving trying to build more friction as Jongho lifted your left leg over the couch, holding you open with his right side as his left hand left your hips, one finger quickly prying at your entrance as he sucked in on your clit.

Once his face left your cunt, two fingers quickly entered you, as he curled them inside, a small kiss was left on your clit making you jolt and whine before forcing his face back into your throbbing bud of nerve as his fingers nimbly worked you up to your second orgasm of the night. You left hand finding your breast and squeezing it just enough to help you build the pressure.

“Fuck Jjong, keep going like this, fuck!”

“You like my fingers or my mouth better?”

As you didn’t answer he slowed down his movements making you groan.

“Both, fuck, please! I can’t choose, Jjong, please, I like both!”

“Good girl, so, cum on them, please sweetheart.”

Your hand pulled more of his hair making the groan reverberate through your body from your clit. God how he knew how to use his mouth and fingers! As you felt your second orgasm coming your legs started to shake and Jongho picked up the pace, his fingers curling inside of you are he went back to suck on your clit.

You cursed before a screamed moan leave your lips, legs trembling as your whole body felt heavy, limbs falling into the couch as he helped you out of your high. Closing your legs gently before getting up and to get you some water and a wet cloth. As he did that, your eyes found the tent in his pants, holding his wrist, his attention quickly falling back on you.

“Where you going?”

“Getting you some water and something to clean you up.”

“Are we already done?”

He smiled at your question. You were clearly fucked out, and yet you forced your legs out of the couch, eyes focused on him.

“Use your words sweetheart, what do you want?”

He squatted in front of you, his lips and nose glistering with your juice, and God you wanted to feel them again, and so you leaned in catching him by surprise at first before he cages you against the couch, your legs opening again as stood there in between them, kissing you like his life depended on it, while his hands held you like you were glass. A small peck was left on his lips as one of your hands held his face, the thumb lingering on his perfectly swollen cupid’s bow lips, a smile forming in yours.

“I don’t want this to end, please Jjong, please I need you, I need all of you.”

“Fuck-” he murmured under his breath as he looked down at your cunt, at the mess you had made on the couch, the mess he helped create. His eyes lingered on the tent in his pants, how his hard leaking cock was already painfully present and all he could think about was you and how you’d feel around his cock. “I’m not fucking you on the couch.”

“Then take me to your room,” you caged him with your legs on his waist and arms on his neck, his laugh brought a light smile to your lips, God you loved that man, you loved every little piece of him, and you wanted him so badly right now. “Stop being such a gentleman, I know you want this as much as I do.”

“One of us need to keep our minds clear.”

“C’mon baby bear, please!” You whined with a pout making him smile as his eyes focused on your face, his hands lazily on your thigh and waist, you knew you had him. “I’ll be good, promise.”

“I just still think I’m dreaming?, I guess?”

“You are not,” you laughed kissing him gently on the lips, feeling him wrapping his arm around your waist as grip your thigh tighter, “you know how I know this isn’t a dream?”

“How, oh my oh mighty?”

You hit his shoulder making you both laugh before play with his hair, pulling it out of his face, a small smile plastered on both your lips.

“Because this is so much better than any other dream I had of us.”

At the raising of his eyebrows, you giggled pulling him in for another kiss.

“So, we never actually had sex on any of your dreams?”

“That’s classified information, only to be revealed after the act.”

You laughed loudly as he rolled his eyes to the back of his head, but gasping at the sudden yank he gave to your body, making both arms and legs hold him tighter, one hand firmly on your thigh as his other arm, held you by the waist making you giggle as you both left the fort heading towards his room. Your lips finding his neck kissing every single space you could, feeling his fingers sink more into your skin.

As he let you on to the bed you finally let go of him, his hands quick to take off your shirt as yours worked swiftly to remove his own shirt and pants, and soon, the only piece of clothing either of you had was the boxers he was wearing. Precum staining the fabric already stretch out because of how hard Jongho was. Your eyes fixed on his boxers, he was thick, a little longer than usual, but thick.

You barely noticed his fingers finding your jaw until the moment he lifted your head to face him, a smirk plastered on his lips as he noticed your eyes lingering on his body. You had seen him without a shirt before, you know he is built, he just preferred to hide his muscles and you didn’t mind that one bit. If not showing his physic he already had a line of women and men after him, if they could see him like this, it would multiply by the hundred.

No, this was all for you.

He was yours.

He loved you.

Just like you loved him.

Your eyes fall to his boxers again with a questioning look, making him chuckle before taking those out. If you thought your mouth was watering, now it had truly become a waterfall. He was a little longer than average, but he was so thick. You reached your hand to touch him, but his hand quickly stopped you.

“C’mon Jjong, let me help.”

A simple nod and you started to work on him, the precum quickly being used as part of lubricant as your lips found the red leaking head, a small kiss left there, just like he had done with your clit on the couch not long ago. Your knees quickly finding the ground as you were quick to lick his shaft, the moans that left his mouth only igniting the fire inside you.

Your mouth and hand worked skillfully on him, his hand tangled to your hair helping guide the pace, every so often you’d look up only to meet him with his eyes closed and mouth open, small moans leaving his lips as you worked him up. A smirk always present as you noticed the reaction of your body to your hands and mouth on his cock.

“(y/n),” he was breathless and although you raised your head towards him, your hands didn’t stop moving, “fuck, your mouth is so perfect, you are perfect.”

You took him into your mouth once again. You knew he was close. He started to thrust into you, controlling more of your head movements, he wasn’t gonna last long. You felt him empty himself on your throat the same moment the most beautiful moan you ever hear came out of his lips, you took it all in, swallowing quickly as he pulled you in for another kiss.

Your legs were still trembling from earlier, but it didn’t matter as held your body close to him.

His taste on your mouth, your taste on his.

“Jjong, please.”

You whined against his lips as he nodded guiding you to the bed. The mattress sinking under you as you laid on your back, your legs open so he could fit in between them, his cock already getting hard again as he pumped himself up.

“You sure about this?” You nodded as he reached for the drawer, already knowing he was looking for a condom, the change in expression was all you needed to know. He didn’t have one. “Fuck, (y/n) I-”

“I trust you.”

You pulled his face to you, kissing him gently before locking your legs around him.

“Are you sure?” You just nodded before he kissed you again. “I’ll pull it out.”

In all honesty all you wanted was him inside of you, to feel him fully, nothing else mattered.

You felt his tip at your entrance, his eyes went to you once again, doubt filling them up.

“Jongho, I’m not a virgin, I’ve had sex before.”

Despite the words, your tone was serene. You knew him well enough to know he was scared to hurt you, the thing was, you knew he never would.

“But this is your first time with me, and I intend to make it the most pleasurable to you, I don’t care about anything else but that.”

His lips found yours once again. As his tongue slipped into your mouth you felt him stretching you out, a moan leaving your lips as he moved to kiss your neck. Slowly, every inch of you was touched by Jongho. You had never felt fuller in your life. As you opened your eyes, his were careful watching your reactions.

“You can move,” you bit your bottom lip as his hips started to move back and forth, you could feel every inch of him. Slowly he picked up the pace, thrusting into you, hitting your cervix every time he thrusted in too deeply, but you couldn’t care less, especially not when his fingers found your clit, circle movement making you moan in pleasure as his thrusts gotten sloppier. “Fuck, Jjong, ye-yes! Please, right fucking there, oh fuc-fuck-fuck!”

“You are so tight, so perfect for me, taking me so well sweetheart,” his lips found your again and both hands held your waist again holding you in place, “fuck I won’t last long.”

“Me neither, fuck!”

You bit down his shoulder, your nails digging into his back, the scratch marks were probably gonna be visible for quite some time. Jongho hid his face on your neck biting down as his thrusts got deeper, erratic, neither of you would last long. His thrusts quickly slowed down, but before you could complain, his hand was back into your clit, circle quick movements as his thrusts kept being sloppier. He wanted you to come first.

At that you held your breasts, pinching your nipples as you allowed yourself to feel everything he was giving you. As you clenched even more around him, both cussed and moan loudly. The third wave finally hit you as one of your hands squeezed your boob, while the other found his forearm that was moving your clit, hold it to a stop.

With a small nod he pulled out, hand already pumping himself as he watched you underneath him, like he had always wanted you to be, like he had always dreamed. White stripes of hot cum soon were splattered around your torso, one hitting high enough to reach your chin, making the two of you laugh as Jongho collapsed on your side.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?”

Before you could say anything, he got up heading to the bathroom. You could hear water running before steps could be heard. His hands worked quickly and carefully to clean you up, taking extra care with the overstimulated areas. You took your time to observe him.

You were definitely lucky to have him.

The giggle that escaped your lips making his eyes snap at you, a tint of red appearing on his ears as he put the towel away, ignoring your giggles as he went to grab you two a bottle of water returning to the room, finding you in the same position, a small smile plastered on your lips. All you did was point to the side of the bed with your head and he smiled pulling the covers, as he knew you two would soon feel cold.

His back to the mattress as your leg went over his. His arm stretched out as your head laid on his shoulder, the tips of his fingers caressing your bare skin light enough to tickle at points. Your arm going towards his neck, a small caress on his cheek before he faced you. A silent conversation. Realization of what had happened. The dream was real. You two liked each other. Loved each other.

“I love you, baby bear.”

“I love you, sweetheart,” he kissed your forehead pulling you in closer, making you giggle. “You are everything I could ever need or want, thank you for choosing me.”

“I’ll always choose you, Jjong.”

A small simple kiss, but full of meaning was the last exchange that happened between you two before you two fell asleep.

As the sun entered the room, you groaned stretching your sore muscles, realizing an arm was around your waist, you were naked and not in your room. Your head quickly snapped remembering what had happened the night before, finding a sleepy Jongho hugging you like his life depended on it. A small smile took form on your lips as everything came back to you, making you realize it really wasn’t a dream.

“I’d stop moving if I was you,” he’s hoarse morning voice made an electric current flow throughout your body and reach your core, you knew your body was sabotaging you, making you hyper aware of the growing hard on Jongho had up your ass, how his hand was so close to your breasts, “you know, morning wood is not fun…”

You laughed, receiving a groan from Jongho as he pulled you even closer to him, hiding his nose on the nape of your neck. The small tap on his arm around your waist was enough for him to loosen up his grip, but before he could complain you were facing him, hyper aware of his hard cock pressing your lower belly. His questioning eyes at your smirk was everything it took for him to shut up.

“Luckly, you have someone to help you with that…”

Your hand swiftly moved in between your bodies finding Jongho’s hard cock, playing with the tip, observing his face change expressions as you worked on his morning wood.

“You don’t have to-”

“I know, but I want to.”

Your body moved up and away just enough so his cock was at your entrance, your hand holding it still as your leg went above his hips, allowing you to grind on his cock, wetting it on your own dripping cunt. Both moaning lowly as his hand fell on your hip, your hand quickly putting the tip of his cock at your entrance.

“Fuck- have I told you, you are perfect already?”

“I could use the reassurance.”

You giggled as you felt him enter you, he almost stopped at your expression. You were still sore from last night and he was thicker than normal, but you held him in place, nodding as he kept pulling inch by inch inside of you, until you were full, staying like for a while, just until you felt adjusted to his size, feeling him twitch inside you from time to time, clenching around him whenever that happened making you both laugh at that.

“Jjong?” He hummed, eyes picking up on you as you called his name. “Can you please, move?”

“Will you be okay?”

“Mhm, promise, just move, please.”

As his length moved slowly in and out of you, the moans that escaped your mouths at every breath, yours considerably louder than his, as he also took the time to kiss along your neck as your hands messed up his hair even more.

This time it wasn’t rushed, not that last night had been, but this time it was different, more intimate. You could feel your orgasm arriving, you knew he was close as to how he grabbed your hips at every thrust.

You two were so into the moment, that you barely noticed how three voices entered the apartment, how they were quick to move things around, or how steps started to grow closer to the rooms.

“GOD FORSAKEN FU- SHUT THE FUCKING DOOR NEXT TIME!”

You both stopped at the exact moment Wooyoung’s screams reverberated through the walls of the apartment. Jongho quick to cover you up the best he could before eyeing the door, he could see shadows on the wall, he knew the guys were waiting for him to tell that it was okay to pass to their rooms.

Although he panicked, you couldn’t help but laugh, making him laugh as well before giving you a small kiss before slipping out of you, making you whine at the loss of not only his warmth temperature, but also the emptiness you felt inside. Jongho quickly picked up a random sweatpant and headed towards the door, looking at you for a second before smiling and shutting the door behind him, only to find all three of his roommates with shit eating grins on their faces, despite what had just happened.

Before any of them could say anything, Jongho lifted his finger with a death stare, more specifically directed to Wooyoung who had the cockiest smile the youngest had ever seen. With an annoyed sigh Jongho pointed to his room with his head before opening his mouth, words most directly to Wooyoung than any of the other two.

“Shut it! I don’t wanna hear it!” Wooyoung was the first to try to say something after Jongho’s words, but San quickly eyed him as Yeosang pushed him further on the hallway putting a hand in front of wooyoung’s mouth, leaving both Choi’s behind. The youngest however looked at San with a soft smile as both eyed the door to Jongho’s room before speaking again. “You were right, I was an idiot, okay? Just give us a few minutes.”

“You know Wooyoung won’t let you live it out of it, right?”

Both laughed at San’s words knowing it to be true.

“He can say whatever he wants man, I honestly only care about her, if she doesn’t mind his antics, I couldn’t care less.”

“I’m happy for you, Jjong.”

San said with a small smile, a hand rested on Jongho’s shoulder as he passed the youngest heading to his own bedroom. With a sigh, he opened the door to his room finding you looking at the door with a small smile before tapping on the bed, making him laugh and take a few steps before you stop him pointing to his sweats before you speak again.

“No clothes allowed in, c’mon, take those off.”

“You are a menace, you know that?” His sweats were soon on the floor as he joined you in bed, holding you close in his arms. “I think they can control Wooyoung for like thirty minutes.”

“So, we better make the best of those thirty minutes.”

general masterlist here ♡

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#cultofdionysusnet #yaya.cjh #yaya.atzimg #choi jongho #ateez #ateez x reader #ateez smut #jongho #choi jongho x reader #choi jongho smut #choi jongho fluff #jongho x reader #choi jongho imagine #jongho smut #jongho ateez #jongho fluff #jongho imagines

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acescavern · 3 months

Text

SAN, WHERE ARE YOU? — CHOI SAN X FEM! READER

Paring: San x Fem!Reader

Genre: Pure smut. No plot whatsoever. There is a sprinkling of fluff if you squint?

wc: 4,825

Synopsis: Your boyfriend invites you to the fancy dress party his frat is holding to celebrate the frats birthday. Only, nobody will tell you what he's dressed as. When you spend half of the party searching for him, Jongho gives away his location.. you're in for a night of fun. One question though, Do you like scary movies?

warnings: smut, smut,smut. Ghostface!San, Velma!reader. Rough sex, unprotected sex, Knife play ( WITHOUT cutting reader. The knife isn't sharp enough for skin), praise, degradation, manhandling, sex in a treehouse, reader's hands get tied, Reader has her view restricted, everything is consented, established relationship, light choking from behind?, reader gets carpet burn. I'm not sure if I've missed something.

note: Hey! it's been a long while. oops. anyway. here, enjoy this badly written San fic! please remember that this is all fiction. This is a little darker than what i've written previously but it's more my vibe ;)

Reblogs are kinder than likes, if you can. Likes can shadowban creators. Any feedback is welcome

You didn't know what you were thinking. For starters, your costume was tight and short. You were sure the Velma outfit looked different online, instead, the material was like a tight second skin that stretched across your chest and the skirt was much shorter than the picture. You were surely careful not to bend or move too much. Your long orange socks weren't meant to be thigh-highs at all. Overall, you'd come to the conclusion that the outfit was more on the verge of a more adult theme that would pass for a party.

You still looked good. In fact, your legs looked amazing in the platform heels Mingi's girlfriend persuaded you into. She claimed that if you'd already gone this far, you may as well go all out. What sold you on the whole outfit was her mentioning that San would go insane and you'd had a knack for winding each other up lately.

So, here you were, at the KQ Frat like every other Friday night. Only this time, it was a special party. The KQ Frat as a whole was turning 5 and they'd let their dearest Song Mingi choose the theme. Okay, maybe he was put on the spot and said 'uhhhm' a lot when he was asked but he eventually stumbled out with the theme of fancy dress.

You pushed the fake glasses up your nose, swearing to yourself at the realization that you could have used your own glasses for this instead of messing around for half an hour trying to put contacts in with shaky hands. You opted to just take them off all together, setting them down on a ledge in the hall. If you had your way, you'd be at home.

Honestly, since you moved in with San things have been a lot better for you both, other than his inability to do the laundry. However, tonight you'd gotten ready at a friend's house and with him being so secretive with his costume, you hadn't a clue what to look for.

The first person you came across was your boyfriend's best friend, Wooyoung. You stifled a laugh, raising your eyebrow at him. “A vampire?” Your fingers ruffled his black and red cape, the material cheap and wrinkled. Wooyoung only rolled his eyes in annoyance.

“It was rushed! San took my costume idea!” He snapped, crossing his arms over his chest. Woo’s words came out in a slight lisp, the terrible plastic fangs moving around in his mouth so much that he just ripped them out.

What he said piqued your interest though, an overly friendly smile plastering on your face. “And..what were you going to be, Wooyoungie?” The raised eyebrow look the man gave you had you almost ashamed that you were trying to butter him up to tell you San’s costume. A girl had to do what a girl had to do.

“Don’t ‘Wooyoungie’ me!” His voice raised a pitch as he mocked you, his eyelids rapidly moving to fan his lashes in an imitation of you. “I’m not stupid, ____. San would never let me live it down if I ruined the surprise.”

That was true, Woo was already the brunt of most of the group's jokes. Though lately, they’d dwindled down in public. Anything to help save a crumb of his image in attempts to woo the library girl. You rolled your eyes and lightly whacked his arm, pushing past him with a grumbled goodbye.

The next familiar face you came across nearly took you off your feet, if only it weren't for the person behind you steadying your form. Spiderman and..Chucky? Something about the spiderman felt familiar and as your eyes lit up with hope… they soon dullened when the voice spoke. Yunho. Not San.

“Woah, careful there.” He patted the top of your head in a friendly gesture. Yunho was the most big brother friend you’d ever met and he was the one you went to for comfort whenever you and San fought. He offered the best advice sometimes. It wasn't surprising.

“I’m sorry, ____.” Chucky spoke, adjusting his cap. Except it wasn't Chucky really, it was just Hongjoong, shooting you an apologetic grin. “Have you seen my girl? She’s dressed as the bride of Chucky.” The obvious reveal that he succumbed to the couple's costume agenda had a light blush blossoming at the tips of his ears.

You shook your head, an apologetic smile tugging at your lips. "Sorry, Joong. Have you seen San?" His reply was the same as yours.

So, you kept moving, pushing through the sweaty bodies grinding together in time with the heavy thudding of music. Eventually, you managed to push through to the kitchen. Huffing out a breath, you leant against the counter. Where was San? There were so many people here, it was more packed than last year especially with the frat's growing reputation. You glanced around the space from the doorway of the kitchen once more, spotting Yeosang, dressed as Link from the zelda games, talking very animatedly with Seonghwa, who you weren't sure of his character but he looked striking in a white ruffled blouse and half corset. You suspected he was some kind of vampire, judging by the vibe.

“You’re looking for San, I take it.” A casual voice piped up from behind you, startling you to whirl around. There stood Jongho, his face half covered by a cut off white mask. He wore a suit, without the jacket. Instead, a long cape with hand painted gold swirls on the inside. He had obviously done it himself. It was certainly the best effort of Phantom of The Opera you'd seen.

“You know where he is?” Desperation laced your tone, you just wanted to see your boyfriend at this point. San had been teasing you all day over text, telling you that you’d love his outfit. That you would go crazy. He told you that he chose it with you in mind.

Jongho gave a nonchalant shrug, his eyes looking toward the back patio door. “Maybe, try looking out there.” Your shoulders relaxed, a grin overtaking your painted lips. You were about to set off in that direction when he held up a gloved hand. “You didn’t hear it from me, ____. Okay?”

With an endearing eye roll, you brought your fingers across your mouth in a zipping motion that earned you an approving nod. Now, you set off outside carefully, being mindful of the shoes you were wearing. They were practically stilts to you. Your fingers held down the ends of your skirt, worried it might blow up in the breeze. Even though ninety percent of the party goers were indoors out of the cold. Speaking of cold, goosebumps rose against your exposed skin as you squinted through the darkness.

“San?” You called, rounding the pool to the concrete slabs that paved the way to the tree at the bottom of the yard. “Sannie?”

You hated it down here. The frat house was a huge place. You often wondered how on earth the guys managed to score it. But with eighteen people living there, it was much needed. The thing was, with the big house came the big garden. The bottom of the garden, whilst still kept mowed, was mostly unused. Save for a few sheds.. But it was creepy and always sent a chill up your spine. Though that could be the cemetery on the other side of the fence. All in all, with the massive house the guys were sure was haunted and the cemetery backing onto the place.. It was just spooky all around.

You stood for a moment, a shiver running down your spine as a whisper of wind rushed by your ear. “San, come on.. this isn’t funny..” Silence. “I’m cold..” A rustle sounded to your left, your head snapping in that direction.

You began to tentatively approach, trying to make sure your heels don’t sink into the grass. You bit back a scream at the sudden animal sprinting out from behind the shrubbery, your palm pressed against your heart as it pounded in your chest. Your breath left you as a sharp exhale of relief. You chuckled at yourself, shaking your head as you turned.. Though you didn’t get far.

You turned straight into a broad, hard chest. A small scream left you, the masked man's hands reaching out to grip your hips. The figure was wearing a ghostface mask, something sheathed in his belt glinting in the moonlight. Although, the familiarity in the way his strong hand splayed on your body as he held you, you knew it was him.

San’s Ghostface robe was open, revealing his black jeans and a shirt that stretched across his torso. Your eyes once more caught the glint at his waist. “A real knife? San, are you craz-” He said nothing, only span you around with your back to his chest. One of his hands drifted up your body to cover your mouth, it was then that you noticed the leather gloves as you felt them against your skin.

“You look like a treat, ____.” He hushed in your ear, the plastic of his mask bumping against the side of your face with how close his head was to you. “Now, Velma, you think you can climb that ladder?” he pointed a gloved hand to the tree, the stepped ladder made up of wooden slats fixed together. At least it was sturdy.

You nodded mutedly against his hand, resisting the urge to turn to face him when he let you go completely with a part pat to your behind. “Good girl.” His voice was smooth to the ear, “Off you go.” With a nudge to the small of your back, he urged you on.

It was a slight struggle to climb the ladder with the way you were dressed, but San was close behind you. When you made it to the doorway of the treehouse, you waited for him as you stood on the ladder. San slotted his feet either side of yours on the same ladder rung, his body caging you against it as he produced the keys for the door. The tree house was in regular use by the frat, mostly so the house didn’t smell of weed whenever the landlord decided to randomly drop by for house inspections.

The treehouse itself was very sturdily built, with an old bedroom door that was previously Mingi’s and the hole in the middle fixed over with planks of wood screwed in place. The floor was covered in carpet that used to be in Hongjoong’s room. A few beanbags dotted around the place and for lighting there were battery operated fairy lights strung around the square perimeter. It was a cute little hangout that San had quite literally banished everybody from for tonight.

With the door now open, you were about to climb in when San’s hands landed on your waist again. His strong grip practically hauled you up and into the treehouse. With a noise of surprise, you landed on your stomach, scrambling up on your hands and knees to crawl to one of the beanbags. The door shut behind you, you noted San didn’t bother to lock it.

San was silent. You almost wondered if he even came here with you but when his leather clad fingers curled around your ankle and a low chuckle rumbled in the back of his throat. “Where are you going, Baby?” His voice was a mocking coo as he pulled you toward him, your body dragging across the carpet causing your skirt to drift up to your waist. “Didn’t you miss me?” His voice sounded close to your ear again now and you felt his presence close to your back but he wasn’t actually touching you.

“Sa-” He interrupted you, his voice completely dropping his act to murmur to you softly. “Do you trust me?” He stayed poised above you, his body weight on his arms so he’s not touching you.

You twisted underneath him, rolling onto your back to stare up at him. Although, you only saw his mask. Your hands reached out, fingers delicately lifting his mask up for you to see his eyes. His lips quirked at the corners when you cupped his cheeks. “I trust you with my life, Sannie.” You arched your neck up your lips pressing the lightest of kisses to his jaw. “You’re doing good. We spoke about this, remember?” Your thumbs grazed small circles on the apples of his cheeks, San’s brown eyes closing as he leaned into your touch.

It was true. You both had spoken about this forever ago, You’d established the limits and words to use if either of you were uncomfortable. The only thing you both hadn’t settled on was when. You both agreed to keep that a surprise and to San, today was perfect. So, with a sure nod, he lightly battered your hands away from his face to pull the mask back down and sink back into character.

You instead began to let your hands wander over his back, the muscles prominent from holding himself up. When they drifted down to his behind, the intent to give him a playful squeeze, your hands froze. San grinned behind the mask, seeing your eyes light up in surprise. He could see the excitement swimming in them and he knew you’d just encountered the feel of the rope tucked into his back pocket beneath the robe. Perfect opportunity. Your boyfriend rose himself to his knees, his right hand disappearing beneath the black material to pull the soft rope from his pocket. It wasn’t too heavy duty. Actually… it was just the craft string that was tied around his christmas present from you.

San was quick and efficient with the way he pinned your hands to the carpet above your head. He paused, his eyes darting around to search for something to fix them to. His gaze landed on the small table next to one of the beanbags, a grin overtaking his features behind the mask once more. Instead of dragging your body across the carpet again, San pulled the table closer threading the twine string around the leg before fastening both of your wrists against it.

You watched him obediently, pretending to struggle at least a little bit. It added to the excitement after all. San let his eyes properly travel over your body and your outfit in the soft glow of the fairy lights. You couldn’t see his facial reactions but it excited you all the more. The adrenaline of the situation had you panting in anticipation. You felt his fingers brush over your ankle once more, ghosting up, up, up… his hand now cupping over your thigh, leathered index finger brushing the edge of your panties. He was taking his sweet time but his other hand was hovering over the handle of the knife at his waistband. Not yet.

The first thing to go was your tight orange shirt. It was roughly pulled over your head just to expose your torso. With your hands tied there was no way to fully remove it but San liked the way it restricted your arms above your head even further.

“Hm,” he made a sound in the back of his throat. “I think we’ll keep this, what do you think?” Even though he had asked you.. his tone suggested there was no room for negotiation, his fingers tugging at the hem of your skirt just once.

You felt him push the material higher to pool at your waist once more. San’s touch was feather light, teasing as he circled it around your navel and down to your waistline. Now was when his free hand curled around the handle of the knife in his belt. Your breathing hitched, body completely still as you felt the cold metal against your collarbone. Your eyes were staring at the ceiling, lips parted. A sound caught in your throat as he dragged it down your body, you could feel that the blade was dull and not sharp enough to actually cut your skin… it was either that or San was pressing very lightly.

“Shh,” He hushed, letting the point of the blade drag across your hardened nipple over the sheer fabric of your bra. “I’ve got you, now.” The point broke through the fabric, San lifting it away from you to slice your bra cup straight through the middle.

His face appeared in your vision and you could only imagine him looking absolutely elated with how glassy your eyes looked. He tutted, “You’ve seen enough, I think.” He set the knife on your sternum as he pulled your shirt down your arms enough to cover the top half of your head, blanking out your vision.

Your body squirmed between his thighs, small sounds of struggle leaving your parted lips. “San, I wanna see you.” You whined, wrists twisting in their binds before you'd remembered they were currently immobile.

“Keep still.” San warned, his tone was far from the soft and loving boyfriend you usually encountered. San was rarely dominant in bed with you, he preferred to lovingly worship your body and praise you with sweet nothings.

This was pleasantly different. His touch was firmer, his grip harsher and his demands had arousal shooting straight through your body. Like the good girlfriend you were, you stilled. San lifted the Ghostface mask up to uncover his mouth, not that you could even see.

Your body flinched in surprise when you felt cool air blow across your exposed nipple. San could only nod to himself in satisfaction. He loved the reactions he could draw from your body without even touching you. He lowered his mouth further, plush lips enveloping the peaked flesh into his warm mouth.

Your hands clenched into fists, longing to dive themselves into his hair. You were totally restricted, completely at San's mercy. The thought alone had a soft moan drifting into the silence. You felt his touch leave you again, the knife's weight leaving your sternum. You felt the material of your bra pull away from you in the middle, the sound of tearing fabric mixing with your breathing.

Your bra was now loose, the cups falling completely to the sides to expose you further. “Hey.” You protested weakly. That bra was expensive.

San could only laugh softly as he dropped a kiss between your breasts. “She finally talks.” He drawled, the feeling of the cold blade starting back at your collarbone once more.

The sharpness of the thin coldness trailed down your middle, a circle made around your belly button before it lifted from your exposed skin only briefly. You felt it again on your waistline, right where your panties sat. San made an appreciative sound in the back of his throat, flattening the blade to firmly tap it against your clothed center.

The feeling had you mewling beneath him, struggling to stay still. The panties were the next thing to go, San pulling the torn fabric from under you after he had successfully cut it away from your body only to drop the arousal coated garment on your chest.

“Please..” Your beg came as a desperate cry, you needed some sort of relief. The wait was killing you.

You were rewarded with San shushing you yet again. “If you're looking for any mercy here, ____, you're out of luck.”

San's left hand pinned your hips down, his other manning the knife. The knife where he had used the flat of the blade to press it to your, now bare, core. You knew you were wet, you could feel it. Hell, you could hear it when the metal was tapped against you again. Your moan raised a pitch, the hand holding your hips moving and allowing your hips to rock dangerously against the flat of the knife.

“I wish you could see yourself, baby.” San's voice deepened, sounding huskier as he watched you. “My girl. So needy to get off, you're rubbing yourself on a kitchen knife.” He tutted. “Pathetic, don't you think?”

You could think of a single coherent thought. Gasps drawing from you as all you could do was nod and cry out when the surface your hips were working against was removed.

You were sure you would remember this night forever… The thrill rushing through your veins. You thought San had gotten up. You thought he left you there for a moment until his fingers dug into your cheeks, palm holding your jaw tight. He squeezed, forcing your mouth to open. “Tongue.”

It was a one-word demand and yet you knew the instruction, your mouth opening wide to poke out your flattened tongue. San's harsh breathing was heard as he very carefully let the knife rest on the pink muscle. More specifically, the side he coated with yourself. You whined once more.

“Clean it.” San encouraged, watching with interest as you followed his every command and collected your own taste. He was so hard it was painful but he wanted to drag this night out… He thought his decision over, curious, lust blown eyes taking in the sight of you.

You, with your skirt bunched at your waist. You, with your orange thigh high socks, your ridiculous shoes, your arms trussed up above your head, your shirt covering half of your face, your ruined bra exposing your chest, your chest where your ripped panties lie. You, with your trust in him to carry out such fantasies. San was done waiting. He wanted you and he wanted you now.

The loud clang of an object being thrown away was harsh to your ears, the object thudding against the carpet. San had thrown the knife far away from you both, his fingers frantically fumbling with his belt buckle and zipper. “I'm done fucking waiting.” He panted sharply, shoving his jeans and boxers down just enough to let his cock free.

You wished you could see him, you wished you could see how red the swollen tip of his cock was. You wished you could watch the thick vein along his shaft throb before your eyes… the bead of precum smeared across the head. The image had a zing of pleasure pulsing through your clit.

“San, please.” You begged, “Please. I've been good, right?” You hadn't a clue what you were babbling. Your words tumbled out of your mouth quickly before your brain could filter.

San groaned, “Yes, Baby.” You felt him brush against your entrance. “You have.” In one sharp snap forward of his hips, San sheathed himself into your warm, wet pussy. “F-Fuck..” His grip was back on your body again, maneuvering your legs back by your thighs as he gave you time to adjust to the sheer stretch his cock gave you.

San's big palms spread over the backs of your thighs, opting to just gather your ankles in one hand to push your legs back against your torso. You felt the burn of your thigh muscles at your body being bent this way but your main focus was still trying to relax your tight grip around his cock.

“Relax for me.” San murmured, his free hand settling on your pubic area.. you wondered what the purpose of the hand placement was until his leather-gloved thumb made contact with your clit.

San stayed perfectly still as his thumb moved in slow circles, your body eventually relaxing to the pleasure coursing through you. Your chest rose and fell harshly the faster his thumb moved. San watched you through the mask intently, how your facial features slackened. Small moans of his name bounced off the wooden walls of the treehouse, the fairy lights casting a beautiful glow across your skin that San could look at forever.

San knew you were getting close, he knew your body. He knew that when your teeth sunk into your bottom lip it meant you were on the edge of an orgasm and for a moment he felt bad to rip your peak right away from you by stopping his thumb.

“No, no! San, that's not fair!” Your eyes fluttered harshly to adjust as he lifted the shirt from your eyes. Your legs were let go, dropping each side of his body.

San's fingers skillfully untied the knots of your binds, rubbing at the marks on your wrists for a mere moment. He pulled completely from you, your expression frowning in confusion.

“What are yo–” You were roughly rolled onto your stomach, your body manhandled so you were on your knees and your naked torso was flush to the carpet. “Fuck!” Your curse abruptly escaped you as he entered you once more without warning, San's pelvis flush to your behind.

Your fingers grip on the carpet was torn away when San gathered your arms behind your back, wrists tethered together once more with the twine. “Stay fucking still.” He grunted, a harsh swat of his hand smacking your ass cheek eliciting a long moan from you.

He gave another swat to the other cheek. Matching red hand prints on display. Punishment for trying to lift your head. It didn't matter anymore, San fixed that problem by keeping a hand closed around the back of your neck, the side of your face roughly rubbing against the carpet with each hard thrust of his hips.

San fucked you like a man possessed, not a single break between thrusts. His belt jingled with his rapid movements. “See what you get when you do as you're told for once, hmm?” His voice was broken with his own noises of pleasure.

You weren't much better, your mouth permanently open with screams of his name and the word ‘yes’ repeating on loop. Your brain felt hazy, pleasantly so. You weren't even aware of your volume or even the patch of drool soaking the floor under your mouth. San had never fucked you like this before.

“You're so fucked out you haven't even noticed you're being fucked raw.” The pressure on your neck increased, a garbled noise from you being muffled by the floor.

You barely registered San's free hand fumbling around for something until the light of his phone screen was shoved in front of your face. The camera app. The idea had your thighs trembling. Your face had a far away look to it, one you hardly recognized as yourself. You watched pliantly as San propped the device against the table leg that your hands were previously tied to before hitting the capture a few times.

San could feel you shaking against him, his hips stuttering a moment when you clenched around him. The arm that wasn't holding you down snaked around you, his fingers finding your clit to rub fast, tight circles.

He'd never heard you scream so loud when the orgasm wracked through your body. Toes curling in your heels, nails digging into your palms. The feeling slammed into you abruptly, rippling through your pussy. Anyone outside would think you were being murdered.

San tore the mask off his face, his head tipping back on a long guttural moan. You knew he'd just come inside you, you'd know what that sound meant anywhere. Even if you didn't feel the slow softening of his cock, or the excess come smear on your skin as his thrusts slowed to a stop.

The both of you were panting harshly. San gently patted your waist, letting go of your neck to work on untying your wrists again. “Wow.” You huffed, arms falling limply to the floor with exhaustion. The cool breeze felt nice against your heated, sweat sheened skin.

He hummed in light agreement, his palms coasting up and down your back and sides for a moment before he withdrew from you. San was quick to reach up to the small table for the box of tissues he had brought up here when he prepared the treehouse that morning.

Your boyfriend always prided himself with being gentle with your aftercare. San made sure to clean your abused pussy as best he could in that moment before he gathered your limp body in his arms. “My limbs don't work.” You mumbled, your head resting on his shoulder as San brought you both to one of the big bean bags. His touch was the most gentle it had been all evening, palms trying to rub some warmth and life back into your body.

“Mmh, That was definitely something..” San agreed, draping a blanket over you both.

The two of you sat there in the blissful afterglow for a while. Bodies tangled together, your head against San's shoulder and your fingers playing with the hair at the back of his neck and San's own hands lovingly rubbing over your body to soothe you.

After a few minutes, your fingers stopped and San was sure you'd fallen asleep until–

“I have carpet burn on my cheek.”

©️acescavern, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted or translated and reposted. reblogs are accepted.

#Choi San #ateez #acescavern #Ateez smut #ateez fluff #san atz #atz smut #san smut #san x reader #san fanfic #san fluff #san #san ateez #ateez san #choi san smut #choi san x reader #choi san #atz

458 notes · View notes

seonghwaddict · 3 months

Text

falling and sleeping — choi jongho

in which falling in love with you felt like falling asleep; natural and unnoticed.

best friend!choi jongho x fem!reader. genre. fluff, crack, friends to lovers. warnings. cursing, none he's just a little nervous. wc. 1.5k. rating. pg-13

lilo’s notes. hiii here's a fluffy little jongho fic because i love him. this isn’t proofread btw i’m sorry for any errors! also, my upload schedule is now on saturday's :3

listening to. from the start, laufey

masterlist.

“hyung!”

jongho burst into the living room of his shared dorm with wooyoung and hongjoong. hongjoong was nowhere to be found, likely at the studio or something, and wooyoung sprawled on the couch, watching a drama on the tv, scrolling through his phone, and taking occasional sips of his comically large coffee cup simultaneously. at the sound and sudden appearance of jongho, he looked away from the screen.

“something wrong?” he yawned, turning his phone off and dropping it on his chest.

“yes. i figured out my problem-“

wooyoung snorted, eyes drifting back to the television screen. “yeah? which one?”

“shut the fuck up, i’ll strangle you,” jongho paused what was supposed to be his dramatic monologue to glare at the dark haired fox-resembling man on the couch. he waited a second before sighing. “my y/n problem. i figured it out. so-“

“you have a problem with her?” at the mention of jongho’s best friend’s name, wooyoung’s attention was captured. if he had a problem with you, that meant something terrible must have happened. truthfully, wooyoung would hate that. he’d been rooting for the two of you for years, even if neither of you were aware of how perfect you were for each other.

“hey! stop interrupting me,” jongho kicked his shin lightly before continuing, “well, no, we don’t have a problem but things felt weird for some reason and i have come to a conclusion.”

“okay… and…?” wooyoung gestured for him to continue, his dramatic pause putting him on edge.

“i’m allergic to her.”

“… excuse me?” it was then that he decided to turn off the tv, giving his full attention to his younger friend.

“i’m allergic to her.”

“oh, for the love of-“ wooyoung groaned and threw himself back on the couch, screaming into a pillow, “CHOI JONGHO YOU’RE IN LOVE WITH HER!”

a confused expression crossed his face as he watched his friend’s dramatic antics and jongho sat down, forcefully pulling the pillow from wooyoung’s face. he should’ve found hongjoong instead, maybe he would’ve been more helpful.

“no, no, don’t be silly,” he tossed the pillow aside and spoke, hands flailing around to emphasise his point. wooyoung was on he verge of banging his head against a wall, “lately when i go near her my stomach itches and i feel all warm and sometimes it gets hard to breath and…”

the realisation that spread across his face was a picture wooyoung wanted to take and print out, plastering it on his wall and also adding it to his resume with the caption ‘i’m literally cupid.’

“… and oh my god i’m in love with her.”

a loud cheer left wooyoung as he sprang up from the couch, going on a five minute rant about how long he’d been waiting for this and how he always knew there was something. “you should go tell her right now.”

“w-what- no! i just figured out i’m in love with my best friend and you expect me to just… go and tell her?”

“that’s exactly what i expect,” he nodded, crossing his arms and leaning his weight on one leg, “didn’t she tell you about how she overheard someone say some guy from her workplace wanted to ask her out for valentines?”

“well, yeah… but-”

“no buts!” he held his palm up, silencing jongho. “you can’t let that home-wrecker ask her out before you. so, get your ass off that couch, change into something nice and go tell her you love her. and buy some flowers in the way.”

“it’s not home-wrecking if we aren’t even toge-“

“that’s besides the point, now do as i say if you ever want a relationship with her.” wooyoung rolled his eyes and turned on his heels, walking to where his jacket hung on the coat rack. he pulled out his wallet and, surprisingly, fished out his credit card to give to jongho. “this is for flowers and some chocolates only.”

and so half an hour later he was walking down the hallway of your floor of your apartment building, wearing an all-black ensemble of slacks a shirt and a trench coat, holding a bouquet of various flowers he didn’t know the names of in one hand and a small box of your favourite chocolate ms in the other. he could still abort and leave without you ever knowing he was there in the first place. you’d given him a key to the building a while ago, trusting him with it since your apartment was practically his second home.

he considered doing just that again, but the bought of you going out with another man who wasn’t him had his heart aching, giving him some courage to finally step in front of your door. he practiced what he wanted to say to you under his breath as he stared at the familiar dark grey door. when he thought he was ready, he reached out to ring the doorbell.

only to pull away at the last second and begging pacing back and forth nervously. eventually, he stopped, clenching his eyes shut and forcing himself to ring your doorbell. there was no going back now.

when you opened the door and you looked at him with your bright eyes and enchanting smile, he felt the nervousness in his stomach melt away and get replaced by butterflies and a soft pink tint on his cheeks. “oh, hey, jjong-“

“i love you.”

you blinked at him, not noticing the very obvious items in his hands, eyes fixed in his face. not quite understanding, you chuckled lightly, “you know i love you too.”

“no, you don’t get it. i mean, i in love with you. i fucking love you and i’m not sure if i’ve ever felt so strongly about someone in my life. i smile when someone mentions you, my heart flutters when i’m around you, fuck, when i see your smile it feels like all my problems have been solved and… your presence, god, it just fucks me up in the best way possible. i can’t believe i didn’t realise this sooner, but i’ve fallen for you, y/n. though, i suppose i didn’t realise it because falling felt like sleeping and sleeping feels so natural and easy that i never realised it until now.”

you stared at each other. he stared with all the admiration he could muster and you stared with mild shock and, under that, relief. “you… you love me?”

“oh my god, i… i’m sorry, i shouldn’t have- i’ve made things awkward, haven’t i? just- just forget that-“

you soft palm covering his lips drove him to silence, looking at you with wide eyes as you pulled him into your apartment, closing the door with your unoccupied hand. his heart skipped a beat as you grinned and whispered your next words.

“jongho, i love you—in that way—too.” you dropped your hand from his mouth slowly, looking down at the flowers and the chocolates, giggling, “you really didn’t have to get all this.”

you took them out of his hands slowly, avoiding his gaze, flustered as you placed his gifts on the marble counter of the kitchen behind you. he hadn’t said anything since your confession, cheeks burning and jaw dropped slightly. he couldn’t believe it. he couldn’t believe you liked loved him back.

he drew your attention to him, breathing out your name. “you… you love me too?”

“yes, you dense cabbage, i love you,” your laugh was melodic as you took both his hands in yours, nodding, “now shut up and kiss me.”

jongho’s expression finally changed into a giddy grin as he pulled his hands out of your grasp to hold your waist, leaning forward and brushing his lips against yours. when you didn’t protest, not that he expected you to, he deepened it into a proper kiss that he hoped conveyed his need for you. he felt like his knees would go weak as your delicate hands trailed up his torso to his head, brushing his hair absentmindedly as you kissed him back with equal intensity.

eventually, you had to separate to catch your breaths and jongho mentally cursed the human need for oxygen. he liked kissing you, your lips slotting together like puzzle pieces. when he felt like the tension had gone completely, he leaned forward to press repeated pecks to your lips, basking in the way you giggle and tried to meet each one of his quick kisses.

“i think i have a tiny crush on you,” you muttered once he decided he kissed you enough (it was never enough, really, but he wanted to let you breathe), fighting back a stupid grin.

“you think?” he snorted, one hand coming up to cup your cheek, thumb tracing your jawline and eyes full of affection.

“yeah, a teeny tiny one.”

he laughed heartily, giving you one more peck “i paid with wooyoung’s card, by the way.”

“in that case you should’ve gotten at least five more bouquets.”

network. @cromernet

taglist. @ad0rechuu @sankatchu @mlink64 @yeosangsbb @seonghwasbbgirl @likexaxdaydream @dreamingofyeo

#cromernet #ateez x reader #ateez #choi jongho #jongho x reader #jongho fluff #jongho headcanons #jongho oneshot #jongho drabble #ateez soft hours

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frenchkisstheabyss · 4 months

Text

✦ love poem ✦

✦ Pairing: dad!choi san x pregnant!chubby!fem!reader w/ appearances by ot8

✦ Genre: fluff/light angst

✦ Summary: Being pregnant during the holidays has been hectic. Especially for your fiance San whose tight work schedule has him under pressure. But when his best friend Hwa steps in to ease the burden on him by being there for you, it creates more jealousy than Christmas cheer.

✦ Word Count: 3.5k-ish

✦ Warnings: pregnant reader, occasionally strong language, some quick lusting after San while he's in the shower (nothing graphic), & that's all.

✦ A/N: I really wanted to write something sweet with like the tiniest bit of angst so there's nothing heavy here. It's mostly just lovey dovey shit cause, I mean, I'm a lover girl. What can I say?

Standing at the entrance of the tunnel of lights, you watch in awe as thousands of tiny bulbs twinkle to the tune of the Christmas music that coasts along the night air. Every year the local zoo holds a massive festival of lights to celebrate the holiday season. During your first year here San had plans to take you to opening night but, with his schedule being as unpredictable as it is, that never did happen. This year though, he promised that nothing would stop you from experiencing this together and he meant it.

As much as San and the rest of the boys hyped this place up to you, nothing could’ve prepared you for how breathtaking it is in person. It’s magical. The carnival rides, the little Christmas themed games, the stalls selling some of the best food you ever tasted. And the displays. They’re pure art. It may be too cold for the animals to be out but the elaborate light sculptures of them make up for it tenfold. Children race through the light tunnels while couples cuddle up in line for hot cocoa. If ever “Winter Wonderland” were a place this would have to be it.

“Stop running!” Hongjoong yells from behind you. Seconds later Mingi and Jongho dart past you in a blur. You turn in time to see the look of defeat on Hongjoong’s face as he approaches with the others close behind. “I swear sometimes they act like children,” he groans, “Take it from me. Don’t have kids. It’s not worth it.” Popping on a pair of knit gloves, Yunho gestures towards the pregnant belly rounding out your thick winter coat. “I think that advice is about 7 months too late.”

Hongjoong gasps in horror, “Oh. I mean, you know, except that one. I’m sure it’ll be a cute little thing.” You can only giggle at how flustered any mention of your pregnancy gets him. Hongjoong hasn’t quite grasped that San’s about to be someone’s dad. Even as your belly has grown, he’s managed to periodically forget what’s happening but he’s trying to be supportive and it’s sweet. Seonghwa pats you softly on the belly, laying his head on your shoulder, “Pay him no mind. She’ll be a cute little baby. Not a thing. I mean, look at her mom”

"Oh, Hwa, you’re too sweet” you blush, patting him on the cheek. “The baby! I think it kicked!” He’s right. You felt it. It’s about that time of night after all. The moment she could start kicking she did. Especially around bedtime. Suddenly they’re all gathered close around you staring at your stomach as if the baby will burst out at this very moment like some alien spawn. Woo kneels down in front of you, resting his hand behind Hwa’s. “Aah!” he squeals, “She’s saying hi to her uncles. Hi, baby!”

By now Mingi and Jongho have circled back, stopping dead in their tracks to see what all the fuss is about. “What’s going on?” Jongho asks, Mingi’s hat clenched in his hand. Mingi snatches his hat back, peering over Jongho’s shoulder, “It’s not happening is it?” Seeing the panic in his eyes, you immediately jump to calm him down, “Not yet. She’s kicking up a fuss. That’s all.” “So much like her dad already” Yeosang teases, just as San appears to push them aside. “Hands off!” he orders, shooing them away, “I go to the bathroom for two seconds and you’re already crowding my kid.”

The others just laugh, not expecting to witness such a perfect example of Yeosang’s statement so soon. “You okay? Everything okay?” he asks, fixing the scarf around your next and popping your hood over your head. “Baby, it’s not that cold.” “Temperature’s supposed to drop 5 degrees in the next half hour. Gotta stay toasty, honey.” San’s always been attentive, doing everything he could to make sure you were taken care of but the pregnancy has kicked it into overdrive.

Taking his hands, you give him a warm peck on the lips and flash a smile that soothes his worries. “I’m okay, Sannie. I promise. Now let’s go.” The tunnel’s far more mesmerizing from the inside than it is simply looking in. It feels like a portal to a different world, replacing the darkness of the night sky with constellations of red and green that guide you to the next section of the zoo. Each area has one unique to the space you’re about to step into.

A tunnel of mistletoe and vines for the flower garden. One built like a giant sleigh for the reindeer village. And that’s not even half of it. How anyone can make it through this place in one night is beyond you. Then again, not everyone is toting another human around in their belly. By the time you make it through the ice tunnel into the replica North Pole, your feet are killing you but you try to hold it together.

Between doctor’s appointments, work, redecorating the apartment, and a million other things that need to be done before the baby arrives, there’s been zero time to do anything fun. Calling it quits this early feels wrong. Especially since San's been so stressed lately. Spending time with the guys seems to be just the thing he needed to shake some of that off.

“How many more lights do we have to see before we’ve seen enough?” Mingi whines, dragging his feet. Alright, so maybe someone else is as over it as you are. Yunho slaps Mingi on the back, taking a deep breath, “Have some holiday cheer! We’re in such a beautiful place. Where else would you rather be?” “Somewhere warm! With food!” Woo adds, backing Mingi up. Jongho jumps it, never one to miss the opportunity, “And drinks! When’s the last time we all had drinks together?”

Hongjoong crosses his arms, throwing them some wicked side eye, until he realizes, “Actually it has been a while since we went out for drinks.” Woo wraps his arms around Yeosang, determined to rope him into this plan, “You in? Say yes. Say yes!” “Yeah, sure fine, whatever” Yeosang laughs, shrugging him off. Hwa clears his throat, preparing to be the bearer of bad news, “Well it’s not just us you guys. There’s kinda a 10th person here now.”

For a fleeting moment, you were able to detect some excitement on San’s face and Hwa’s words wipe it away in an instant. Everyone falls silent, not quite sure what to do with the awkwardness of the moment. “Hey,” you say, lovingly rubbing San’s chest, “Why don’t you go get those drinks?” “What? No. I’m not leaving you. We said we’d do this.” “We did and I’ve had the best time but, honestly, my feet hurt like shit.” “Then I’ll take you home and run some water so you can soak your feet” San insists, guiding you out of the way of an approaching crowd.

“San, please, for the love of god, go” you beg, looking to his friends for support. “I’ll take her home!” Hwa volunteers, “I’m not really up for drinking anyway.” San glares skeptically back and forth between the two of you. He wants to protest but he gets the sense that arguing with you is a losing battle and he’s right. “Fine” he relents, “But text me when you get home. Love you.” The way you light up when he finally gives in is one of the infinite reasons why he loves you the way that he does. “I will. Love you too.” “Love you three!” “Love you four!” you say, kissing him before Jongho begins to drag him in the other direction. “We’re not doing this all night! Let’s go!”

Parting ways is a sea of goodbyes and bickering that continues until you lose sight of the rest of the group. Hooking his arm into yours, Hwa directs you towards a festive snack stand not too far away. “Wanna eat like trash before we go home?” he offers with a mischievous grin, knowing San would murder him if he knew. You nod, playfully tearing up, “I thought you’d never ask.”

“Baby, have you seen my keys?” you shout from the bedroom, digging through your purse for the third time. “Huh?” San calls back, the water rushing from the shower making it impossible to hear you. Shuffling down the hall, you pop your head into the bathroom. “I was asking if you’d seen my keys.” San peeks from behind the shower curtain, shampoo bubbles dripping down his sculpted cheekbones. In an instant, you forget all about your keys. What else could possibly matter when San’s standing here dripping wet, every muscle in his defined chest glistening like gold. Snap out of it. This is how you got pregnant in the first place.

“I saw them by the stove I think.” “Thanks, ya cutie” you wink, ready to skip off to find them. “Wait,” he says before you can make it more than a step and a half away, “You’re all dressed up. Where are you going?” Scanning your outfit, you don’t see anything particularly “dressed up” about what you’re wearing. Some knit overalls with a cozy sweater underneath and your favorite boots are far from red carpet ready in your mind. “Hwa’s taking me shopping for decorations. Don’t you remember?” San frowns, only vaguely remembering the conversation, “Why didn’t you ask me?” “I did but you said you were busy today so Hwa offered to take me.”

Your phone dings in your pocket. You fish it out and find a text message from Hwa telling you he’s outside. “Ooh, speak of the devil. Gotta run.” Carefully, you make your way across the bathroom floor, giving him a kiss that you struggle to keep innocent with the knowledge of what’s behind the curtain. “Have fun and tell Joong I said hi! I’ll bring you back something!” you sing and you’re off to find your keys. San’s frozen in place, unable to bring himself to move an inch. Even after he’s heard the apartment door close, it takes him a second to get back to his shower.

It’s been two weeks since the light festival and you’ve seen Hwa every few days since. Every time San’s too busy to do something Hwa’s right there to help. When did he become so available? You always come home so happy too. Were you that happy with him? Letting the water wash over his head, he tries to shake away his jealous thoughts.

You moved here to be with him and, in that time, the only friends you’d made were his. Hwa’s just being a good friend to the both of you, helping when San’s unable to. Thinking that it's anything else is ridiculous. All of the long hours spent working must be getting to him. Hwa would never...

You would never...

Neither of you would...

Right? Right?

Pregnancy hormones. They’re the one thing no one can ever quite prepare you for. One minute you’re hanging ornaments on the tree, humming along to your music in a cozy pair of pajamas. The next you’re crying on the kitchen floor, stuffing your mouth with the cookies you baked for the holiday party tomorrow.

It’s nearly midnight and everything makes you emotional. The lights on the tree are too bright, your feet feel swollen, the cookies aren’t as sweet as you'd like, and suddenly you can’t stand the song that’s playing despite it being one of your favorites. You want everything off but then the house would be quiet and empty. You’d be reminded that you’re all alone until San comes home tomorrow and cry even harder.

You pull out your phone to call him but when you see the time you decide not to. His flight is in a few hours and he’s already told you what a long day he had. You’d hate to wake him up, to burden him any more than you feel you already have. Just as you’re about to put your phone down it lights up. A text from Seonghwa. Some adorable video of a cat dressed up as one of Santa’s elves.

The poor thing looks miserable running around in that costume but it makes you laugh enough to stop you from spiraling. Taking a deep breath, you wipe away the tears blurring your vision and shoot a text back.

You: Thanks. I really needed that.

Hwa: Why? Something wrong?

You: I’m having a crying thing. Kinda sad tonight.

Hwa: Need some company?

Without thinking, you type out the words “You don’t have to—” before erasing them and typing out something new. "Sure!"

It takes him no time at all to reach you. The streets are empty this time of night and he only lives a half hour away. Even if he lived two hours away—three hours away—he’d drive every single one of them to come support you. When you became someone special to San, you became someone special to him too. He’s never seen San more serious about anything than he's been about you and this baby. As much as he wishes that San would get out of his head a bit more, it’s cute to see him love something so much.

“Anybody home?” Hwa whispers, his eyes narrowing when he notices that your front door is cracked. “Come in” you sob from the couch, blowing your nose for what feels like the 1000th time since you sent that last text. Hwa follows a trail of discarded tissues to find you curled up on the couch, as curled as you can be this far along in your pregnancy. “Hey, hey, don’t cry” he coos, easing himself down onto the couch and resting your head in his lap, “Talk to me. What’s going on?”

You try to speak but you’re too short of breath to get anything out. Hwa strokes your hair, taking slow breaths in and out, “Follow me, okay? In and out.” You shake your head in protest. The whole room is closing in around you. You can’t do it. “Just try it. For me. Please” he begs so sweetly that you can’t refuse. Deep breath in, long breath out. The same way that they taught you in those birthing classes you went to. “This is total bullshit” you’d whispered to San at one point during the class but it turns out it isn’t bullshit at all.

After a few seconds, the tightness in your chest eases and the room begins to open up. The world isn’t falling apart anymore. You’re safe. Hwa sits with you in silence as your breathing quiets, dabbing away any rogue tears that drip down your cheeks. “Is San happy with me?” you ask, catching him off guard, “Is this too much for him, do you think?” Hwa laughs, knowing how extremely far from the truth both of those questions are. “Hwa, it’s not funny! I’m serious!” “I’m sorry! I’m not trying to make fun of you, it’s just—if you make him happy or not, that’s not a question. He’s crazy about you.”

Grabbing the small blanket folded over the back of the couch, he opens it up and tucks you in with it. “None of this is too much,” he swears, “You and her…” Hwa pokes your belly, making you giggle. “You guys are everything he’s ever wanted. He pushes himself so much because he wants to be perfect for you.” You yawn, Hwa’s presence and the warm blanket activating the exhaustion you’ve been fighting. “But he’s already perfect to me. Why can’t he see that?” “Mmm, it’s really hard sometimes to see ourselves the way other people do but he’ll come around. I promise.”

If there’s one similarity you’ve come to find between San and Hwa it’s how important promises are to them. If Hwa says he’ll come around then he will. They’d been friends for ages before you came into the picture. They’ve gone through more together than you can imagine. If Hwa's confident about it, then you have to believe it too. You drift off to sleep, your brain still spinning but much quieter now, trusting that everything will be just fine.

Right? Right?

“Listen to yourself. You sound crazy!” Hwa snaps, trying his hardest not to raise his voice in the midst of his anger. San tosses his bags to the floor and they hit with a thud that shakes you from your sleep. “I come home to you cuddled up on the couch with her and I’m crazy?” “She texted me last night that she was crying. What was I supposed to do?” “Tell me! And let me take care of her! She’s not yours so stop treating her like she is!”

San’s jaw clenches, the jealousy he’s been harboring turning into true pain for the first time. He thought he had this under control. Those hours of talking with Woo about how stupid his suspicions were had chased off his insecurities. But coming in, tired and cranky from his flight, to see you so peacefully cuddled against Hwa had undone all of it. He wanted to kill him and the knowledge that he was the first one you reached for when you were hurting only adds fuel to the fire currently burning his self control to ash.

“Sannie?” you squeak, stretching out your cramped limbs, “What’s going on?” You sit up, eyes still squinted, to see what all of the fuss is about. Hwa hangs his head, unable to face you, “I think I should go. If you need me I’m here for both of you.” “Wait, no!” you say, doing your best to roll off of the couch and stop him but by the time you’re on your feet he’s gone. Turning your attention to San, you immediately sense his anger. Something happened and whatever it was has him fuming.

“Baby, what happened? You can talk to—” “Is there something going on between you two?” “What?” you laugh, placing your hands on your lower back for support. You keep laughing but the sharpness of his expression never changes. He’s actually waiting for an answer. “Oh god, you’re serious. You’re actually asking me if I’m fucking Seonghwa.” “I didn’t say that.” “But that’s what you’re saying. That’s what you think of me.”

You catch yourself wanting to cry again, only this time it isn’t because of the pregnancy hormones. It’s because you waited for days to see the man you love only to be accused of something like this. San can almost see the moment your heart breaks, making him regret his doubts in an instant. “He’s been helping me because I was worried about you burning yourself out. That’s it. I wouldn’t do that to you.” Your bottom lip quivers and the tears are rushing from your eyes again. “Fuck, I’m so tired of crying” you huff, flopping back down onto the couch.

San’s at your side quicker than he’s ever been, his arms wrapped around you like he never wants to let go. “I’m sorry! Please don’t cry. I didn’t mean it. I know you’d never do that.” “Then why were you two arguing? Why even ask me?” “Because I’m afraid” he admits, leaving you both shocked at his admission. He’s scared, terrified, so much that it keeps him up at night. “I’m afraid I’m not good enough to be what you need me to be and it was easier to be jealous than to admit that.”

You’re frustrated enough that you could slap him but your body feels so at home in his embrace that you can’t pull away. “You’re good enough for me…for us, San. You have to believe me when I say that.” “Then why do you call him when you’re crying and not me?” “Because,” you sigh, “I’m afraid too. I don’t want to lean on you too much.” “What? Lean on me too much?” he asks, almost offended, “Lean on me all you want. What do you think I work out for?”

You giggle when you feel his muscles flex against you, “San, be serious!” “I am! Lean on me, please. We’re a team. I need you to trust me to be here.” You stare at him, your eyes beautiful enough to hypnotize him even when they’re clouded with tears. “You have to trust me to be here too, you know?” San kisses your forehead, one hand gently massaging your back, “I trust you, baby.” Closing your eyes a tingly feeling washes over you. Is it love? The Christmas spirit? The tingling is chased by a contraction stronger than any period cramp you’ve ever felt.

“The baby’s coming!” you shout, gripping your stomach. San jumps back in shock as if he didn’t know you were pregnant to begin with. “Are you sure?” “You said you trust me!” “I do! I do! Hold on!” Leaning you back on the couch, San darts around the apartment collecting all of the things he’s prepared over the last few months to make you comfortable when this happens. A bag packed with clothes for you and your favorite slippers. Phone chargers, baby wipes, stuffed animals, the snacks you love. The list is endless.

“I’ll pull the car up and come back for you, okay?” he says, propping your feet up on the coffee table as he tries to put your coat on. “Just get the car. I’m okay.” “You sure?” “I’m sure and San,” you say, grabbing his arm. “Yeah?” “You’re gonna be a great dad. The best ever.” San can’t fight the smile that spreads across his face or the slight reddening of his cheeks. You believe in him, you truly do, and for the first time, he does too.

#ateez x reader #ateez x you #ateez x y/n #ateez x chubby reader #ateez x female reader #ateez fluff #ateez angst #choi san x reader #choi san fluff #choi san angst #choi san x you #chubby reader #plus size reader

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mingtinysworld · 11 days

Text

Adrenaline Rush

Pairing: choi jongho x fem!reader

Genre: smut, fluff

Word count: 1.4k

Summary: Jongho needs to blow off some steam after he's not satisfied with a performance, and you happen to be there for his assistance. Not that you mind.

Warnings: MDNI, rough, mean jongho, one face slap, throatfucking, hair pulling, degradation kink, use of names like (fucktoy, cumslut), cum swallowing

A/n: I SWEAR I did NOT plan to make Jongho this mean??? But it's ok because he's all cute and sweet at the end. I do love me a mean jongho though. Enjoyyyy please like, comment, and reblog!! - J<3

You nervously wait backstage, eyes on the monitor as staff put up the intricate set pieces for Ateez's stage. You know how hard the boys have worked for this insanely monumental opportunity. Especially Jongho, who has been nonstop belting his voice to perfect the high notes.

A few hours prior, Jongho had started feeling pain in his throat. He was afraid of letting down the group when he's known to be the powerhouse vocal that he is. You knew that no matter what, he would do an amazing job, but you were nervous on his behalf due to his harshness to himself.

You let out a stuttered breath and bounce your leg as they go on stage. They look majestic, and everyone in the crowd seems to absolutely love them. They perform almost their whole set, everything being more than perfect. You feel like crying from how proud you are, of each and every member. Then it's time for Wonderland.

This is the song that Jongho has been nervously dreading. The intense belt of 4 octaves leaves him to dread it every time. But you know that he kills it every single time, and you're certain he will today as well.

He steps forward, takes a deep steady breath, and goes for it. It's as if angels have come down to make you ascend with them. You're convinced that Jongho is not a real human being, he's an angel. No one could be that perfect, that talented, that beautiful. Your jaw is wide open with amazement, and you feel like you could cry.

They take their bows as the crowd erupts with so much love and appreciation for Ateez. They start walking offstage and you go to meet and congratulate them. You scream and clap as they emerge one by one, making them look at you with exhausted adoration. As soon as you see Jongho you lunge towards him, looping your arms around his neck and squealing with excitement.

"Babyyyy oh my god that was amazing. I'm so so proud of you!!" You give him countless pecks across his cheeks as he holds you loosely. You pull back to see his face is pulled taut and jaw clenched, and you tilt your head in confusion.

"Love? What's wrong?" You ask with a pout.

He closes his eyes for a few seconds and takes a deep breath. He leans closer to your face and speaks with a barely recognizable voice.

"If I don't fuck your face right now I think I might explode." He says intensely.

Your eyes widen at his admission and you feel like you're hit with lightning from head to toe. You swallow thickly and attempt to speak but all that comes out is a jumble of words.

"Jongho w-why are you so intense?" All you feel at the moment is pure arousal, slick coating your thin underwear. He groans dramatically and hangs his head.

"I messed up and I'm so goddamn angry right now I can barely speak." He manages with gritted teeth.

"But you did-" Before you can finish your encouraging sentence he grabs your wrist and spins you around, holding it behind your back. He leads you towards an empty costume room and you can feel his solid body walking right behind you.

"Shut the fuck up and let me use your mouth. The only good use for it apparently." You comply immediately and let him handle you like a rag doll, enjoying every second of it. As soon as he locks the door, he throws you down to the floor and you look up at him with a wide eyed expression that is screaming "ruin me."

It would truly be a shame if he didn't complete your request, so really he's only being the generous and giving boyfriend that he is. You take fluttery breaths in anticipation and sit there looking so pretty and pliant for him.

He steps forward and with one hand caresses your cheek gently. You close your eyes in bliss and lean into his touch like an obedient kitten. That is until he delivers a harsh slap to the same worshipped cheek. You jolt in surprise and hiss at the sting his palm left, but you stay as still as possible to be a good girl for Jongho.

He smiles like he just won a reward. Maybe he did because the sight of you in front of him is enough to make him burst. He pulls down his pants low enough to pull his aching cock out, but still being mostly dressed. He's leaking so much precum that it's threatening to spill onto the floor and you have to resist the urge to just lick him clean immediately.

He hooks a thumb into your mouth, lifting your head backwards to a point of almost discomfort. The light bounces off of your glazed eyes, making them look like pools of desire and helplessness. He pushes down on your tongue and you don't waste any time wrapping your lips around his digit and giving him a preview of what's to come.

Patience running thin, he pulls his finger out of your soft mouth with a pop, and gathers your hair into one fist. With the other hand he guides his leaking member into your awaiting mouth. You instantly choke around him, somehow forgetting how thick he really is. You try to breathe calmly through your nose to control your gag reflex.

He slides in farther, reaching to the entrance of your throat. He gives an experimental thrust and goes through the restrictive barrier between your mouth and throat. You instinctively swallow around him, resulting in him throwing his head back and groaning. He loses all self control and starts using your throat according to his needs.

He sets a wild pace instantly, hips never stuttering. He hits the back of your throat so sharply that you're sure you'll have giant bruises leftover. Jongho seems to have ascended to a completely different world, with his eyes closed like he's enjoying a nice yoga session. You dig your fingernails into your palms, leaving crescent indents. You want to do your best for Jongho, be a stress reliever, be the best fucktoy he's ever had. It's as if he's read your mind, because in the next second he starts to degrade you to the point your head feels cloudy.

"Who's a good fucktoy? Yeah that's right, you are. Forever my little cumslut aren't you? God I love the way your mouth feels, I could fuck it forever." The only thing you can do is let out pathetic whimpers to confirm his words. You love being used by him, being his toy. As he nears his orgasm he goes even harder. He's now using your hair to pull you back and forth along his length, sending pleasurable sharp pain to your abused scalp.

Your nose meets his stomach and you're held there while Jongho's shooting his load into your throat. You sputter and gargle around him, releasing droplets around the side of your mouth. His stomach clenches in and out as he empties everything into you. As soon as he pulls you off of him you start to cough intensely. He immediately locates a water bottle to soothe your sore throat. You gulp it down greedily, savoring every precious drop.

He helps pull you up, and supports your wobbly form. Even if he treats you so roughly, you're always his princess first and foremost. He runs a gentle hand down your back, rubbing soothingly.

"Did I do too much, my love?" He whispers worriedly.

You shake your head assuredly. "No baby, you were perfect. You were perfect on stage too you know." You croak with a raised eyebrow. He laughs at your expression and softens up.

"Oh what did I do to deserve you? I just think the world of you sweetheart." He rests his head against your forehead, breathing deeply. Your heart beats loudly, feeling the flutter of a thousand butterflies inside. You break apart and give him a cheeky grin.

"I demand a bath and a massage." You raise your head defiantly, daring him to disagree. He rolls his eyes and shakes his head in disbelief.

"You don't ever change oh my god. How about I do you one better? I'll give you a bath and massage while singing you your favorite songs. Followed up by some very cuddly cuddles. What do you think?" He asks.

"I think you have yourself a deal mister Choi best singer and performer Jongho." You give him a bow and he playfully smacks you.

"Alright alright, get it together." He pretends to grumble grumpily.

"Okayyy mister bear." You retort while running away.

"HEY.” He says while chasing after you.

#ateez #ateez smut #mingtinysworld #ateez fic #ateez x reader #ateez scenarios #ateez fanfic #choi jongho #jongho #jongho smut

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chokchokk · 8 months

Text

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

part one of gangster!mafia!series "𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞-𝐛𝐲 𝐦𝐞"

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

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

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

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

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

𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝 : 18.2k

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Missy!”

“Me, sir?”

No wonder the economy's fucking shit.

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

“Yes, sir.”

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

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

“Yes, sir."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Idiot, he’s only got a daughter!”

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

"You know, the one he married off to the governor?”

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

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

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

Ka-Ching.

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

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

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

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

And, oh, how excited he gets.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes, sir."

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

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

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

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

"Peace comes free."

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

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

"Sweet missy!"

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

"Yes, sir?”

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

“A Cuban, coming right up, sir.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, sir.”

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

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

"Be careful, missy!"

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

"They bite!”

Maybe choke them with their own money bills?

Yes, “Yes, sir.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Interesting.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ah, they give me bad breath.”

“Yes, sir.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Control yourself."

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

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

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

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

"Poetic."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“This is not business.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wanna clean me up, baby?”

“Pardon?”

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

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

“Sir, how—“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes, sir."

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

“Please.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Everything about him is so big…

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

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

“Sir!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Make her louder.”

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

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

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

It is one shameless show.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Change of plans.”

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

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

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

"Five.”

“Five? Make it ten.”

“You only last ten?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Go."

What the fuck?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And holy fuck, his back looks even crazier.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sir–”

Wrong deduction.

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

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

"The chairman?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please, sir, just… fuck me, please…”

“Louder.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

BANG!

"Sir, what—!"

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

BANG!

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

BANG! BANG! BANG!

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

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

BANG!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“S- sir, please I–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ding!

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

"Sir, are you—"

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

"Fuck, sir!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"San, hold her."

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

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

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

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

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

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

Clean?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Aw, you’re so sweet, baby.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Speaking of, brother..."

Yes, with no shame.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“D- don’t!”

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

“Don’t leave me!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Killed?

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

Killed?

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

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

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

Oh, Y/N.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What the fuck is he on again…

“You’re making this hard on yourself.”

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

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

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

“Ahhh, fuck you, brother.”

“Pathetic.”

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

The night is over.

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

“Yes, princess.”

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

“Ah…”

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

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

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

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

“Just please, let me live…”

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

“Brother.”

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

“Brother?”

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

next part coming soon... series masterlist | main masterlist

#cromernet #choi san x reader #choi san smut #choi san scenarios #choi san x you #choi san x y/n #park seonghwa x y/n #park seonghwa scenarios #park seonghwa x reader #park seonghwa smut #ateez scenario #ateez smut #ateez x reader #chokkiwa #chokko #drivebyme

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newworldwritings · 2 months

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NewWorldWritings Recs! (ATEEZ)

gif by @graphicstorage

these are some writings that i have read that i would love to share with the rest of atiny/readers. some of these quite literally made me cry, laugh, and relate.

let me know if any of the links don’t work!

more will be added too #newworldwritingsreblogs !

some of these do contain smut, dark themes, & lots more. so please remember to read the warnings that each author put in their works.

❕= SMUT/DARKTHEMES

OT8 x reader

❕player 1117 @peachesyeo

(series -> ongoing) obessive!gamecharacters!ateez x villainess!reader

❕morning mist @mint-yooxgi

(series -> ongoing) Yandere!Dragon!Ateez X Chubby!Reader

❕The Library of Illusion @kwanisms

(series -> completed) ateez ot8 × fem!reader

Want You Back @whimsicalwritingsandmore

(series -> ongoing) werewolf!ot8!ateez x werewolf!reader

❕Circus @lani-heart

(series -> ongoing) ateez ot8 x reader

❕trope @bro-atz

(series -> completed) ateez member/gn!reader or ateez member/afab!reader

❕Black Ocean @bvidzsoo

(ongoing) Ateez members x female readers

❕room for three @honeyhotteoks

(56k series -> completed) nonidol!yunho x nonidol!seonghwa x reader

❕splish splash @atozfic

(20k) nonidol!san x nonidol!seonghwa x nonidol!wooyoung x nonidol!yunho x fem!reader

undying bonds @edenesth

(series -> completed) Hongjoong x fem!reader, Seonghwa x fem!reader

❕whichever way @igbylicious

(series -> ongoing) woosan x fem!reader

Hongjoong

you’re hongjoongs bias @jnginlov

(8.6k) idol!hongjoong x idol!reader

captains favorite @edenesth

(1.1k) captain!Hongjoong x doctor!reader

Black and White @atinystraynstay

(2k) Kim Hongjoong x fem!reader

Seonghwa

❕The Way to His Heart @edenesth

(series -> ongoing) general!Seonghwa x wife!reader

Cold Snap @ennysbookstore

(4 part series -> completed) nonidol!Seonghwa x Reader

❕Dancing With the Devil pt.2 @bro-atz

(2 part series -> completed) assassin!seonghwa x afab!reader

❕the trouble with hating you. @baekhvuns

(33k) badboy!seonghwa x reader.

Bingo @gummygowon

(1.8k) single dad!seonghwa x reader

❕you’re the one that i want @ateezmakemeweep

(series -> completed) bad boy!seonghwa x fem!reader

Yunho

❕Guerrilla @sorryimananti-romantic

(27k) serialkiller!dr.yunho x writer!reader

What Builds a Home @cosmicdumpling

(7.2k) husband!yunho x fem!reader

❕Memoir @baekhvuns

(16k) nonidol!yunho x reader

all i want for christmas is you @starrysvn

(11k) yunho x gn!reader

Yeosang

❕lessons in intimacy @honeyhotteoks

(14.5k) camboy!yeosang/barista!yeosang x fem!reader

Siren. @sorryimananti-romantic

(27.8k) siren!yeosang x sirenhunter!reader

San

❕ceilings pt.2 @yoongiseesawmp3

(2 part series -> completed) pe teacher!san x single mom!reader

❕The Art of Climbing the Corporate Tower @ennysbookstore

(2 part series -> completed) nonidol!san x reader

Love Poem @frenchkisstheabyss

(3.5k) dad!choi san x pregnant!chubby!fem!reader

❕Crafting Christmas @yoonguurt

(15.2k) single dad!San × reader

destiny @tainsan

(25k) idol!San x nonidol!reader

❕ch_i san @atzfilm (this one made me cry my eyes out)

(19k) android!san × reader

Mingi

❕nightmare, daydream @mingigoo

(11.1k) tutor!femreader x popularboy!Mingi

❕Shower Ecstasy @myhimbomingi

(1.6k) song mingi x afab!reader

❕Grease and oil @bvidzsoo

(5.6k) mechanic!mingi x fem!reader

Wooyoung

instagram @roomsofangel

(series -> ongoing) nonidol!wooyoung x fem!reader

❕Home for the Holidays @highvern

(24k) nonidol!Wooyoung x fem!reader

❕Midnight Kisses @mingigoo

(5 part series -> completed) bff!Wooyoung x single parent!femreader

Still You @edenesth

(15k) exbf!Wooyoung x fem!reader

Change of Heart @hotteoki

(5k) suitor!wooyoung x princess!reader

Jongho

to yours, jongho @halaboyz

(1.8k) busker!jongho x gn! reader

when strangers kiss @starlitmark

(5.4k) nonidol!Jongho x fem!reader

Guarding Hearts @edenesth

(15k) bodyguard!Jongho x actress!reader

#ateez au #ateez fic recs #ateez masterlist #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #ateez fake texts #ateez texts #ateez fluff #ateez fic #ateez smut #ateez scenarios #ateez drabbles #ateez dragon au #ateez series

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byuntrash101 · 1 year

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ateez masterlist

disclaimer: everything is smut, mdni. everything is idol x fem!reader

📖 27 fics and counting...

✲ multiple members

first flight to hongkong | 18.3k — idol!au, dom ot8!ateez

yes, you're suprised when your company offers you a vacant spot in the vip crew. but "surprised" doesn't cut it when you discover what kind of service your company provides the vips

realistic sex with ateez | on going series — headcanons

how each member would actually fuck you

seonghwa▪︎mingi▪︎yunho▪︎wooyoung...tba

sharing is caring? | 5.2k — idol!au, simp!mingi & possessive bf!hongjoong

of course hongjoong cares about his friends but when mingi gets too close to his girl it’s time to remind him sharing is not always caring.

the good friend | 3.4k — idol!au, simp!mingi & bf!san

san has known about mingi’s crush on his girlfriend for a while now. he also happens to be a very good and caring friend who values their friendship very much. and san would do just about anything to help a friend

the better friend | 7.3k — idol!au, simp!mingi & bf!san

a good friend let's a friend watch. a better a friend let's him join

cheerleader | 1.5k — gentle dom!yunho, dom!mingi, dom!san, mean dom!hwa

the boys always like to celebrate victory with their biggest cheerleader after a game

✲ kim hongjoong

bonnie & clyde | 2.5k — dom gang leader!hongjoong ft. ateez

there's something so primal and enticing about your leader taking a life to protect the crew at all costs

drabbles: 1▪︎2

✲ park seonghwa

headache | 1.7k — soft gentle dom!seonghwa

✲ jeong yunho

you've been suffering from headaches recently but your boyfriend knows exactly how to get rid of them

damnation of a saint | 13.7k — sin of lust! x nun!reader

life is dull when you are an immortal being such as seonghwa. every day is the same and you live (or rather, merely exist) through the times crushed by the burden of boredom. until something new comes along in the form of a kind, compassionate and righteous newly ordained nun. and so the sin of lust makes it his personal mission to corrupt the purest of souls: yours.

the drill | 6.8k — nerd dom leaning switch!yunho

yunho cant seem to pick up anyone at the club. for two main reasons, two problems if you will. the first one: his rizz level is negative and the second one... well it's bigger. much, much bigger. a huge problem wooyoung has named "the drill"

behind the mask | 2.7k — bf!yunho

it's halloween night and your sweet golden retriever boyfriend wants to have a little harmless fun

✲ kang yeosang

daddy's little trooper | 2.4k — sweet loving dom!yeosang

after a torrid night with your boyfriend you wake up hungry for a nutrious breakfast but yeosang is just insatiable

streaming: cloud 9 | 1.7k — streamer!au, hard dom!yeosang

you decide to test your boyfriend's nerves while he's live streaming

pretty in pink | 1k — gentle dom!yeosang

your boyfriend just thinks pink suits you very much and loves to make you blush by all means

✲ choi san

incubus: coming of age | 11.3k — fanstasy!au, dom incubus!san

being in love with your boss, doctor jeong yunho, is a nightmare. unlike this dream you're having right now of him gently kissing you in the middle of the night. but something feels off. doctor jeong doesn't quite sound like himself...

✲ song mingi

partition | 2k — gentle dom husband!mingi ft. jongho

finally back from a long business trip your husband takes you to a very nice date to celebrate. but after so long apart you are not sure you can keep your hands to yourself on your way to the restaurant

skinny dipping | 2.6k — college!au, swim team captain dom!mingi, pinkgi ♡

your boyfriend he is so focussed on training for the upcoming championship he forgot tonight was supposed to be date night but maybe he can make it up to you

facetime | 1.1k — switch!mingi, switch!reader, established relationship

mingi has a small favor to ask you real quick

lovers on the sun | 4.8k — cowboy!mingi, friends to strangers to lovers, outlaw!au

you never understood why mingi chose that life. chose to be an outcast, a loveless bandit. over the years you came to terms with it. you got married, you grew. but when the outlaw finds himself gravely wounded his instincts drag him back to you. to the person he's willing to sacrifice everything for

booksmart | 3.1k — sub leaning!mingi, tutor!reader, uni au

maybe mingi didn’t make the smart choice picking a stem major? because the classes proves themselves to be rather difficult especially when mingi as to learn about the female anatomy without having any “field knowledge” on the subject. but as his tutor it’s your duty to help him study, by all means necessary.

✲ choi jongho

break up with him | 3.5k — angsty, mean dom!jongho, ft. yunho

jongho is tired to be the bad guy. tired of acting like he doesn't care when you kiss him. tired of lying to his best friend. and he's ready to put everything on the line. he wants you for himself only.

drabbles: 1

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bandgie · 3 months

Text

Desire

President!Jongho x fem!reader

Synopsis: The company dinner was meant to destress your busy corporate life, but it seems like you'll have to make room for dessert.

warnings: slow burn? public fingering, cum eating/swapping, pussy play mostly, intoxication mentions but everyone is pretty much sober

song! 3.7k words

Choi Jongho is not necessarily hated, but he isn't liked either. There's an air around him that screams dominance and demands authority. He strives for perfection and expects everyone to give their all. As stubborn as he is, even with as much unwarranted fear he instills in everyone, you respect his drive.

You're on the opposite spectrum of Mr. Choi. A bit more lenient with the staff, not as ambitious, not as...scary as Seonghwa has once said. Despite the differences, you hardly bump heads with Jongho. Working so close with him, you the director and him the president, you've got to see sides of him others don't.

A more human side.

Working in a corporation may be exhausting, especially in a law firm, but connecting with your subordinates is what makes it enjoyable. Though Mr. Choi doesn't share the same sentiment, you think he secretly enjoys the fruit basket you leave on his desk each time he secures a client.

You may not be able to buy Jongho another one of those baskets this time though. Stress eats at you from the most recent decisions of a particular client. They go against your financial advising, blaming you for the bankruptcy they will most likely endure. It'll make a bad name for the firm and you don't want to imagine Mr. Choi's displeasure.

"What a bunch of fucking idiots," you groan under your breath.

Yunho lifts his head from his computer at your mumbling. He peers over the little wall that divides your desks and waits until you notice him. When your eyes meet his brown ones, he raises an eyebrow, "Who?"

You scrunch your nose as you answer, "That Dreamy Day company. They're complaining about losing money, but it's literally their fault. Putting stocks when they shouldn't and over-drafting loans. So they hire us to make sure they don't go out of business right? But they do the opposite of what we're advising them to do. So they're wasting even more money and blaming me! Me! You should see the emails, Yunho. They're a bunch of fucking assholes too."

From the stunned look on Yunho's face, you think you've said too much. You close your eyes and let out a deep sigh, reaching up to pinch the bridge of your nose, "Sorry. I'm just stressed." Yunho nods understandingly and shrugs, "Aren't we all? I think you'll be happy to know that Mr. Choi said he'll pay for the company dinner tonight."

This makes you perk your head up, eyes wide open. "Dinner? Tonight? No no no I can't do that. I have too much work and-"

"And you'll have to save it for tomorrow. Boss's words, not mine." Yunho smiles at your defeated look, an innocent gaze in his eyes. "You need this." He continues. "We need this. At least one day to relax. If Mr. Boss can tell you're overworked, then there's a problem."

You sigh again, though it's not as heavy. Since you've been working overtime to create a business strategy for Dreamy Day, you've only been eating takeout and convenience store food. Maybe it would do you good to eat something cooked with someone else's money.

"I guess there's nothing I can do then. What restaurant?"

The restaurant, Arriba, smells of spices and meat. The warm lights make you feel cozy and you enjoy the subtle chatter from the people around you. An abundance of food sits in the middle of your table, already halfway gone. Yunho's face is flushed from alcohol, but he still takes another swig of his drink.

"Damn Seonghwa! I didn't think you'd eat this much. You're so thin!" You chuckle as the said man blushes from the attention. He shoves another piece of cooked meat in his mouth, "I eat well."

"Ah, that's nothing," Jongho gestures to Seonghwa's plate. "In college, Park used to apply for cook positions just to eat the nightly leftovers. He used to purposely make the customers' food wrong so he could remake it and eat the one they sent back."

That sputters a laugh from you. One reason is that Seonghwa's gluttony runs deeper than you thought, the other now knowing that the senior associate used to flip burgers.

"No way," you manage to subdue your laughter. "Did they ever find out?"

Seonghwa, even slightly tipsy, doesn't like to be the center of attention. He picks up his bottle and takes a strategically long drink just to avoid your question. However, he can't escape your curious eyes waiting for an answer. He finally sets his drink down and swallows loudly, "Yes...I didn't last longer than four months."

Yunho laughs at the honesty, wrapping an arm around Seonghwa's shoulder. "It's okay Hwa. We don't want to pay for leftovers anyway."

You chuckle at their interaction before glancing at Jongho beside you. Only his ears and what's exposed on his neck are flushed. Rather than the serious look you're used to, his eyes are softer. There's a sense of calamity rolling off him that makes you look at him in a different light. Even if he's working in such a high position, you can't help but notice how young he is in a moment like this.

"You too Jongho, you can handle your liquor pretty good." You notice your mistake a bit too late. Your boss is pretty stern about properly addressing him and even outside of work you think he might correct you. Instead, he turns his head to you and his lips twist into a smirk.

Your heart flutters.

Jongho raises his shot glass to eye level and looks at it almost affectionately, "Alcohol is a man's best friend." He brings the glass to his lips and shoots it back. He licks his lips and lets out a satisfied sigh once he's gulped, "Every good president should know how to drink well."

The night continues with drunk laughter and playful banter. Though you've worked with these men for years, you feel as though you're finally getting to know them as they share stories of their youth. Yunho is obsessed with Harry Potter, Seonghwa prefers Star Wars and Jongho...Jongho...

Was he always this handsome? Did he always have such a cute, gummy smile? It has to be the light bouncing off his tan skin that captivates you. It's the warm food and cozy environment that makes you sit hip-to-hip with him. That yearning for contact is because of the soju. The way you shiver when his hands brush against yours when he reaches for seconds is because you're just hyper-sensitive.

It's anything but him, you remind yourself.

It's a mantra you repeat while Jongho pays for bills, while he holds the door open for you four to shuffle out of, as he asks if everyone wants to go to a bar.

You blink yourself out of your thoughts, "Huh?"

"It's a shame to waste the night. Plus we don't do this often. But I understand if it's too late for you guys," he looks amongst the three of you, waiting for an answer.

Even if you weren't suddenly crushing on your boss, it would be foolish to turn down a higher-up's offer. Yunho and Seonghwa seem to think the same thing as they agree quickly. "I could go for another round," Yunho nods.

Jongho smiles in a way that makes you tremble so violently that Seonghwa asks if you want his jacket.

"Sounds good," Jongho claps his hands a few times. "I'll keep a tab open, but do your best to remember we have work tomorrow.

It's a completely different environment in the bar compared to Arriba. Seonghwa mentioned the place MATZ his old friend runs to go to. Maybe you expected some level of decency, but you're shocked to see what feels like hundreds of people standing, drinking, dancing. Then the foul smell of beer and what you hope isn't vomit fills your nose. You cover your mouth and blink away your tears.

The crowd eyes the four of you judgingly as you push your way to an empty booth. It's mostly likely because of your attire. While everyone wears either skin-tight or little clothing, you four wear business casual.

You jump when a hand settles on the small of your back. You're about to, not so nicely, tell the perv to keep their hands to themselves when it's Jongho you see close behind you. He doesn't so much as look at you when you peer up at him, face heating. You whip your head back around and let him guide you to a dirty, but empty table.

''I think this is a club rather than a bar, Mr. Park!" Jongho shouts over the loud music.

Mr. Park...oh he's pissed.

Seonghwa's eyes widen in fear as he sneaks glances at you. Help!

You would rather not risk enduring the anger of Jongho, but Seonghwa has such a begging look in his eyes that you cave. "Maybe this is a good thing!" you shout in Jongho's ear. "I mean, you took us out to relax, right? And like you said, we don't do this often."

Jongho raises an eyebrow as he turns to face you. Since you were leaning in his ear, his face is mere inches away from your own. You swear you can feel his warm breath on your lips. Jongho looks at you up and down in a way that makes your skin crawl. He isn't just looking at you, he's observing you. You think he's debating on demoting you when he laughs instead, "Using my own words against me, huh? Shouldn't expect anything less than my director."

Seonghwa visibly relaxes at the diffused situation, but now you're the tense one. All you can stare at is Jongho. Different lights, different smells, different places, yet he still captivates you. You tremble at his intense stare, feeling the way his eyes eat you.

His tongue pokes out to moisten the side of his bottom lip.

"Imma gets some drinks," Yunho's announcement breaks the stare-off. Jongho turns his attention to the tall man and reaches into the pocket of his coat. You watch as his nimble fingers dig through his wallet to pull out the company card and hand it to Yunho.

"Just put it under my name," he instructs.

Yunho scoots until he's out of the booth, leaving you three at the table before someone catches Seonghwa's eye.

"Oh!" He quickly shuffles to his feet. "I see my friend. I'm going to say a quick hi. If you'll excuse me." Jongho gives a nod before Seonghwa disappears into the sea of bodies.

Then there were two.

You don't know where to look, where to pretend to look. You choose the dance floor where people shamelessly rub against each other, spilling drinks and hollering with deaf-tone singing. It's somewhat overstimulating to your semi-sober mind, but it's better than the burning presence of Jongho beside you.

"Do you like to dance?" that burning presence speaks. A part of you wants to pretend that you didn't hear him over the loud atmosphere, but you know better than that.

"Yes!" You yell in his direction but refuse to meet his eyes. "I don't go out anymore, but I danced when I did." You see the outline of Jongho nodding. Awkwardly, you meet his eyes, "Do you like to dance?"

He shrugs, "I don't care much for it. I prefer singing."

A look of surprise molds into your face, "Singing? Since when?"

"Since forever," he smiles. "I should have chosen a karaoke bar instead. Not this shit fest." Jongho laughs at his crudeness, waiting for your response.

"I mean, it would have been more quiet. That's for sure!" You smile at his joyful expression. "But I don't mind this. When Yunho comes back with drinks, I think we'll be having a much better time."

Jongho nods, but there's a somewhat youthful expression in his eyes you don't think you've ever seen.

"Maybe we should go dance," you propose. "Just until Yunho comes back." There's an immediate feeling of regret when the question slips from you. You want to blame the atmosphere for getting to your head, the drunk energy making its way to your veins.

But when you see him smile curiously when you see him nod, when you grab him by the wrist and lead him to the middle of the floor, you're buzzing with excitement you know is far from those things.

Jongho is a better dancer than he claimed to be. He runs his hands up and down your torso, pulling you close or moving his hips with yours. He even trails the tips of his fingers down your neck when you tilt up to the ceiling.

Yunho and Seonghwa are more than likely back at the booth, wondering where you two went. If they were to see you dancing like this, to see Jongho's moving against you this way, you think they'd never let you hear the end of it.

You can't seem to find the energy to care though. Not when Jongho's letting you grind against his thighs. He encourages it, keeping his hands at your waist to help you ride him. The two of you have already crossed so many lines by doing this, you might as well see how far you can get.

You can feel his erection through his work pants, poking your leg. As much as you want to twist a hand between and 'help,' it would be too obvious. You settle with feeling your wet underwear rub against your cunt, staining your pants.

Good thing it's already dark out.

Jongho lets you rest your head in the crook of his neck. He can hear every pant, every whine, feel the way your tongue laps at his sweat. He can feel your warm cunt through the fabric, but he doubts it'll be enough for him.

He snakes a hand between your bodies undo the button of your slacks and finds the zipper.

"Jongho!" You gasp in his ear. You glance down to see him working his fingers down until they cup over your clothed mound. You tremble in his hold, softly moaning at the contact before you come to your senses.

"There are people!"

"There are."

"They're gonna see!"

"They might."

You're going to reply when his hand rubs up and down. Your hips rock before you can think, chasing the pleasure Jongho so willingly gives you.

"I don't know why you're worried." He shakes his head. "You're so wet. Did you want me to ignore that?"

The only response he gets is soft moans in his ear. He giggles at your desperation, opting to move his palm in circles.

"I saw the way you were looking at me during dinner," Jongho admits. "At first, I thought it was because of the drinks. You know how some people get like when they have one too many. But now that we're here, I wonder if you've been wet this whole time."

Were you that obvious? Could Jongho see you eye-fucking him? Could he feel the desire that wrecked you these last hours? He must, even if it weren't for his confession. Jongho must feel the same way if he's letting you hump his hand without care.

"Mmm sorry. Sorry," it's all breathy against his skin when you speak. "D-don't fire me."

That sputters a laugh out of him. You grip onto him a little tighter by the shoulder. His hand is drenched, and it's so easy to slide back and forth on it. But the fabric of your underwear is starting to get irritating. It's too rough on your sensitive flesh and you're trying to slip his hand inside your panties.

Once his laughter subdues, he smiles down at your frenzied state. "I wasn't even thinking that. I'm sure HR would get a laugh out of my director humping my hand like a bunny."

You whine in his neck, both from embarrassment and need. Even as he teases you, Jongho relents and slips his fingers past your panties. The feeling of his bare fingers rubbing against your cunt makes you shiver, humming in satisfaction.

Jongho runs two of his fingers up and down your slit, getting familiar with how your body reacts to his touches. He moves the pad of his fingers up to rub circles over your clitoris. You let out an airy moan, thankful for the loud music concealing your mewls.

"I won't tell them," Jongho promises. "A little secret between us two."

The people around you have gotten the clue that you two are more than dancing. Some move to a different spot, others giggle at the desperation, but most roll their eyes as if this is a common occurrence at MATZ. Either way, you don't care. Not when your boss's fingers dip between your folds, spreading your lips and using his thumb to apply pressure on your clit.

You could cum from how Jongho plays with your pussy alone, but your walls keep clenching down on air. It leaves you feeling frustrated with nothing inside you. His fingers feel thick, they can do the job.

"Can...can we keep another secret?" You bite on your lower lip, looking up at Jongho whose eyes never left your face. The colors of the strobe lights bounce beautifully on his face, capturing his already-knowing smile. "Depends. You have to tell me first."

Strategically, you trail kisses from his neck to his ear, biting on his earlobe as you whisper, "I wanna feel your fingers in me. Creaming around them. God, fuck, I just want to cum on them."

That playful air around Jongho seems to darken, turning into something akin to desire. He teases your entrance with the tips of his fore and middle finger. Circling and barely dipping them in before pulling away. "I thought there were people?" He flashes a gummy smile.

"Jonghooo."

He smiles wider at your whining, but it's what makes him oblige. Two thick fingers finally make their way inside you carefully. He slides them in with ease from how wet his entire hand already was and with how relaxed your body is. He slightly wiggles his fingers to find a comfortable position for both of you, adding to the already stretching stimulation.

You clench around his digits eagerly, loudly moaning from finally being somewhat filled. Everything about him is warm, from the fingers finding a pace, to his palm that smacks against your entire pussy. Slick drips down your thighs, collecting onto the fabric on your work pants. If you thought they were soaked before, they are utterly drenched now.

Jongho doesn't bother with a slow pace. He can tell from how you're bouncing on his hand that you need more than what you started with. With his free hand, he hooks one of your legs up to rest on his hip so he has better access. With this opening angle, it's easier for him to piston his fingers in and out of you.

It's loud, it's wet, it's obscene.

You should feel disgusted or ashamed at the very least. But Jongho's so good at finger fucking you. He doesn't seem to mind your loud whines, your rocking hips, and his dirty sleeves getting wetter by the second. After all, a good subordinate follows in the footsteps of their superiors.

His fingers aren't necessarily long, but they still build that fire in your belly. Your orgasm approaches, affecting how your riding turns into messy humping; How you make a conscious effort to try and quiet your louder moans. Your walls repeatedly tighten around Jongho and he drives it home.

Harshly, Jongho drives his fingers as far as they can go, wiggling just the tips to prod that rough spot in your pussy. It feels as though it's in your stomach, reaching even deeper than you know is possible. Your hips come to a complete stop, opting to spasm uncontrollably.

A few more harsh pumps, some clit play with Jongho's thumb, and you feel yourself coming undone. The tightly coiled pleasure blossoms in your stomach, spreading its heat to your legs, your chest, and your sensitive cunt. You gasp in his ear, torn between staying awkwardly slightly or embarrassingly loud.

Jongho decides for you. He captures your parted lips in a messy kiss, eating your wails and moans. You pant in his mouth, trying to match his stroking tongue with yours. It's difficult to kiss him back when your orgasm floods your senses, but Jongho hardly seems to care about your tired lips.

You squeal when he gently pulls his fingers downwards. The drag makes your eyes roll, still delicate at every move. Jongho doesn't take them out all the way, but instead drives them forward. He maintains a slowly pumping speed to help you ride off your high.

It's overwhelming to have both your lips occupied, so you make the difficult choice to pull away from Jongho's kiss and rest your head on his chest. He frowns at first, but upon seeing your droopy eyelids and constant moans, he accepts that he's drawing your orgasm too far out.

That doesn't mean you don't whine when he finally pulls his fingers out, cunt cold and empty.

With hazy eyes, you watch as he brings his fingers up to eye level, glistening in the artificial lighting. Wordlessly, he traces those same fingers across your bottom lip, wiping your essence in the process. You open your mouth so he can further push them between your lips.

"How do you taste?" Jongho questions, eyes stuck on where your tongue swirls around.

You hum in response, leaning forward to reach his fingers to the knuckles. Slowly, you pull away, letting his fingers out with a 'pop!'

"Try for yourself."

You snake a hand around his neck and bring him forward, putting your tongue in his mouth immediately. Jongho groans at the taste, cupping your face with both hands as he pulls you closer. He digs his tongue deeper and sucks on yours to get every drop of cum you have. It's not until you're gasping for air that he pulls away, licking his lips.

"Fuck," he swears. "Hiding that from me all this time, huh Director?"

With glossy, cum-stained lips, you smile. "Didn't think it was part of the job."

As if on cue, Jongho's phone begins to vibrate between your bodies. He removes a hand from your face to reach his pocket and look at the caller. He glances at you and then at the phone before silencing the call.

"We should find our table."

a/n: omfg I have been so dry im so sorry school is kicking MY ASS I have like 1000 words due every week for one class then 300 a week for another and there's so much articles to read omfg ANYWHO I hoped you all liked this one!!!

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