Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Lehninger.

Lehninger.

Albert Lehninger.

Principles of Biochemistry.

You grumble under your breath, shifting your eyes chaotically around the shelves of hardcover books aligned in alphabetical order. The wooden shelves feature biochemistry books, and out of all these, you needed only one, which apparently was too hard for your eyes to search. Scorching sun outside is far less preferable than the air conditioning of the second-hand bookstore you were in, so you decide to stay in and pass a few more minutes looking through the books.

Maybe, you could find something worthwhile in store, perhaps something other than textbooks and thesis unrelated to your university work. Sighing, you bend over slightly to grasp the titles inscribed on the spines of several other books.

"It could be here, maybe." you thought to yourself.

"Hi, how can I help you?" a cheery yet raspy voice cuts through your thoughts, "are you looking for a specific book?"

Your attention turns towards the humbly speaking man, and once your gaze falls onto him, and his smile, you hold your breath. He was...ethereal; clad in a beige coloured cardigan and a white turtleneck under it, the man's demeanour was stoic and poised yet friendly and warm. Towering over and looking down at your petite stature, he smiles widely, politely waiting for you to reply. You take a minute longer to stare and notice all finer details on his face; his porcelain skin, pretty pink lips, a straight nose—almost sculpted, and his innocently shaped doe eyes just boring into yours.

There it goes without saying, you were drooling over him. He was attractive, no doubt, but the way he offered you a benign smile made your heart lurch a bit was far more beguiling than his looks. In all seriousness, it had been more than a minute or two since you had been silently checking him out; you had failed to notice the heap of books he was holding in his arms before, but now that you do, you mentally groan at his bulging arms with prominent veins on the back of his hands.

"Hello—"

"—yeah, no. I mean, I was actually looking for...Lehninger—um, biochemistry?" you stutter and ramble, lastly stringing your words into a question.

"Oh, wait. Give me a minute, I'll check it in our database." Carrying the books in his hands, he nudges you to follow him with a nod.

You do cluelessly follow him but enjoy the view of his rear; you really needed to snap out of it! He guides you to the front desk where the cash register was situated, and a computer was stowed away on the other side of it. Thump the books go, having been put down on the desk by him before he leans over the computer to type. Standing on the other side of the desk, you watch him do the work, with your arms folded over your chest.

In the heat of the moment, you're reeling back to checking him out; silverbluish hair styled in a mullet, the puffy strands kissing the collar of his turtleneck, his eyelashes batting every two seconds at the blaring computer screen—you bite down on your lip when libidinous thoughts swarm your mind. His hands, those sleek fingers pressing down the keys on keyboard...how good would those feel as they're pumping in and out of your cunt.

"Oh, okay. Got it!" he squeals softly, turning to you, "looks like we've got one copy of the sixth edition. Would that be alright?"

You flinch, snapping from your thoughts and realising you really needed to get laid, at least to get your mind straight.

"Ah," you take some time to comprehend his words, "sure. I don't mind, to be honest. Only need it as a reference for my assignment."

"You could've issued this book at the university library, why didn't you?" he asks, stepping out from the counter and guiding you back to the wooden shelves.

You look at your feet, stumbling behind him, unsure of what to say. "I believe it's better to have a personal copy instead of issuing it from the library since I'm going to need till my senior year. Couldn't afford a new one, so I thought why not invest in a second-hand."

He heaves out a gentle chuckle, halting his steps in front of a shelf. "That's fair. So, Horizon University?"

"Yeah," you mumble. "Got a scholarship and everything...how did you..."

"It's the only university close by, and I'm in my senior year there, well, at the end of it—only one more month left till I graduate." he starts rummaging through the racks in the shelf to find your book. "Dance major."

"Sophomore year here, zoology major." he hums, looking at you and pulls out a thick book from the shelf. You continue in a hushed voice, "I've still got two years left in that hellhole."

"You don't like the university?" he questions, as a matter of factly.

"No. Not really. Not that I know I can't make friends for fucks sake," you state.

"You haven't met the right kind of people yet, it's fine. You will soon." he flashes you a toothy grin. "Do you need anything else?"

"No, I'm good." you whisper, "I'll hopefully vibe with someone soon, can't be alone all the time."

"Like I said, you will. Hang in there," he reassures you with his smile going deep in his cheeks, "I'll ring this up for you, come on."

By the cash register, you pay the respective amount while he puts the book in a paper bag having the store's name printed on top of it.

As he hands you the bag, he chimes, "there you go."

You take the bag in your hands, but don't leave just yet; you didn't want to leave him. Drawn to his charismatic presence, you stay behind for a long second. You're staring into each other's eyes, intently lingering onto the disguised inklings in either of your minds. The space around you seems so suffocating, heavy and laden with thick air. In the pit of your stomach, there's an urge you want to act on, you want to tear your gaze away from him and continue on with the rest of your day.

But you can't.

And your heart doesn't want to, thinking there's a possibility of you engaging with him on a romantic level.

From the corner of your eye, you watch his lips twitch into a tiny smile; he scurries his hand on the desk and pulls out one of the store's business cards. He has a sharpie ready on him, and scribbles something on the back of the card.

"Just in case, here's my number. Give me a call, or a text. Would like to hang out with you some time," he slides the cards across the desk to you, "I'm Yunho, by the way."

You take the card and slip it in the pocket of your dress; yes, you wore a clingy summer dress with pockets because pockets are a lifesaver.

"My name's Angel."

"I look forward to hearing from you, Angel."

And you did find something better in there, other than books.

The day rolls by as smoothly as it should, after leaving the bookstore you make your way back to your dorm room in the university to keep the book in your room and grab your laptop as you decide to spend the rest of your morning in the campus cafe. Musty notes of coffee linger in the air while you save Yunho's contact into your phone and work a little on your assignment. All your lectures, you whiled the time thinking about Yunho—his face, his voice, his fingers, his body—you were starting to realise how reprehensibly had this man taken up every fraction of your mind.

You weren't complaining, though. But it was proving to be very distracting amidst your lectures. Coming back to your dorm room, lethargic from the humdrum day of lectures and practical work, you lay in your bed. Mindlessly, you pick your phone and go through your socials, especially Yunho's. He has to have an Instagram page at least. And to your surprise, he does. You come across a public account with few of his photos. You didn't get to see much of him however, as the photos were mostly of him either looking away from the camera or hiding his face behind his hands. Heaving an exasperated sigh, you lock your phone and go on about the rest of your day.

As night dawns in, you're back in your bed after eating dinner. You've done all of your nightly routine and are freshly showered. You wear a dark brown cardigan over your black lingerie; really not in the mood to change into sleepwear because of the buzzing heat of summer. Again, mindless thoughts pop in your head, and you grab your phone to check any texts from your nonexistent friends. It's not like you didn't have any friends, you didn't prefer to make friends—regardless, you did have one friend in the entirety of your university. He was a bunny-eyed man with deep brown hair, and a baby yet stoic face; Choi Jongho. But you spoke to him occasionally and only interacted when needed to.

Opening the messaging app on your phone, you almost make sure to have a double take when you see Yunho's name at the top with very recent messages from him. Yep. It was him. You checked it twice only to be sure and it was his contact number. Stifling a squeal, you open your chats.

Yunho:
Hey!
Just wanted to make
sure you got to your
dorm room safely.
And how's that book
working out for you?

[Sent 22:39 pm
Read 1:06 am]

So, he needed an excuse to text you. How adorable.

You:
Hi
Aren't you quickto text me? ^^
It's alright.
And...
The book makes me
want to hit my head
against a wall.

[Sent 1:07 am
Read 1:07 am]

Yunho:
Ouch :(
I have no idea what
works in biochemistry.
Sadly.
But hang in there!
And ofc
Thought I'd keep you
company since you're
a loner.

[Sent 1:09 am
Read 1:10 am]

You:
I have friends, mister!

[Sent 1:10 am
Read 1:12 am]

Yunho:
Yeah
You do
Imaginary friends
don't count.

[Sent 1:12 am
Read 1:13 am]

You:
I do have a friend!
Don't underestimate me.

[Sent 1:14 am
Read 1:15 am]

Yunho:
"a" friend
I'm not tbh
But who's this friend?

[Sent 1:16 am
Read 1:17 am]

You:

He's in my department
We've got couple of
classes together

[Sent 1:17 am
Read 1:18 am]

Yunho:
well then
I'll let you talk to him

[Sent 1:19 am
Read 1:19 am]

You felt a pang of pain bubble in your chest, but your mind couldn't figure out why you were hurting over his response.

You:
Why do you sound mad?

[Sent 1:19 am
Read 1:35 am]

Yunho:
I'm not :)

[Sent 1:35 am
Read 1:36 am]

You:
k.

You roll your eyes and blink away the weirdness. Now, your silly anguish had been replaced with anger and frustration. In fact, you wondered why you felt so silly about this ordeal when he was the one to initiate texting you. They say men have a golden rule of texting, that is, they'd wait three days until texting. But it turns out Yunho was little too eager to talk to you. Shaking your head, you sit up straight in your bed and puff your cheeks. Your eyes glaze over your reflection in the full-length mirror in front of your closet.

An idea sparks your curiosity, and you smirk to yourself. Bringing your phone back in your hand, you angle it at a specific point to get your entire body in the frame. You take a mirror selfie, perched by the edge of the bed, your cardigan loosely hanging over your shoulder to expose your lingerie and a good amount of your cleavage, your hair flowing down on one side of your shoulder, and your eyes remain emotionless. Having no perceivable clue of your behaviour, you slump yourself back in bed and purposely send the picture to Yunho. You wait for a minute to pass when you text him back.

You:
*sent attachment*

You:
Oh god!
Didn't meant to
send it to you.
Can you delete
it, please?

[Sent 1:45
Read 1:45]

Yunho:
Oh
...
Well
I saw it.
And it's only fair
if you...
*sent attachment*

[Sent 1:46
Read 1:47]

You feel the buzz in your head, upon checking out the attachment he sent you. Thinking it'd be a normal photo, you didn't pay too much attention to it, but maybe you should have, and you did exactly at your second take of the photo. It was him, obviously; he was sitting in a gaming chair, legs widespread, wearing his loose sweatpants under a haze of dim lights of his room. One of his hands held his phone as he clicked the picture, while the other palmed his crotch. And then you saw it, his boner, protruding from the sweatpants. You mentally tried to gauge his size by the pronounced outline on his pants. And you were impressed.

The heaviness in your head grows when you notice his sly smirk in the photo, and the bulging veins on both of his hands; he wanted to rile you up, just the way you did. Though, if there could be a difference, you did it out of spite and he was doing it to get back to you. Squeezing your thighs together, you tried to control your urges, the same stupefying urges you got when you saw him in the bookstore this morning. The suppression of your desire leads to you heaving out a deep breath, wanting to get back at him for ruining your peace with that photo.

You:
someone's all
worked up.
what were you
thinking about?

[Sent 1:50 am
Read 1:51 am]

Yunho:
Just something
Or someone

[Sent 1:51 am
Read 1:52 am]

You:
I wouldn't mind
taking a peek in
your head;)

[Sent 1:53
Read 1:53]

Yunho:
Do you really want
to know what I'm
thinking about?

[Sent 1:54
Read 1:55]

You:
Yes
Unless you don't
want to.

[Sent 1:56
Read 1:57]

Yunho:
I'd be the one to ask
you that
Are you sure you want
to know?

[Sent 1:57
Read 1:58]

For some reason you could picture him with a conceited smile on his face, still sitting on the chair and his legs wide apart while he rubs his cock through his sweats.

You:
You like teasing
don't you?

Yunho:
Oh I love it

You:
I'll tell you what.
I've been thinking about
you since the morning

Yunho:
Hmm
Likewise
I've been thinking about
all the things I'd do to
you if you were here
with me

You:
and what would you do?

You draw in a sharp breath, chest heaving up and down when your mind fogs with the thoughts of him doing filthy things to you.

Yunho:
For the starters...
I'd gently kiss your lips
While ripping the buttons
off your sweater
Taking it off
Letting my hands roam
your body

Reading his texts, you pull at the buttons on your sweater, one by one and eventually shrugging it off from your body. You tremble slightly as you proceed to text him with one hand.

You:
Go on...

Yunho:
I'd pin you to the bed
Make sure your hands
are above your head
Kiss you so hungrily.
use my hands to feel
all of you.
And take off whatever
that's remaining on your body
Id tease you a hell a lot
Fukc
Ferl your bdy shuddre under mine
when I drg my fingerss down to
yor wet pussy
Pusj my fingers deep in you
knuckles feep
Make you mewl as my fingers
pumped in and out
...
Fuck
I want you so bad

That was the point of no return for you, you were deeply invested in this game, in this stupid act of desperation where all you could think about was his texts. It brings your colourful imagination to mind, visualising his texts as you rub your fingers on your now-aroused cunt through your dripping wet panties. you noticed the typos in his texts, probably from him typing with his one hand while his other remained busy.

Taking a deep breath, you rest against the headboard of your bed, your legs spread a little to make it easier for your hands to rub you. You bite your lip, thinking more of him, thinking of his sleek fingers sawing you out while he's knuckles deep in your cunt.

You:
I want you too
So so bad
I want your fingers in me
I want you to loosen me
up nice for your cock
to pound into me

You finally decide to push your panties to the side, while ghosting your fingers over your clit before you let them submerge in your heat. Your arousal coats your fingers as they slick back and forth, at a steady pace, in your cunt. Your mind is already long gone to the end where you were only yearning for him to make you feel good. Noticing how your phone hadn't buzzed for a long time, you shift your attention to it and instead of his texts, you see him calling you. Hesitation knocks at your door, but you're too far gone from rationality to think about it. As you answer his call and press your phone to your ear, you hear his ragged breathing. It brushes your ear and tickles you, springing up goosebumps on your skin, as though he was right next to you in your bed.

"You really know how to make a man all worked up, don't you?" he hisses, "don't worry, princess. I'll make you feel good."

You take in another deep breath through your mouth, bringing your fingers out of your cunt. Hovering them over your chest, you push the cups of your bra down and grope your breasts; you pinch your nipples, fondle and knead your tits to get yourself in the mood. He doesn't know about it, but your fantasies run wild—with him as he fills his hands with your tits, groping and fondling them, maybe even more.

"What is my Angel doing right now? Are you touching yourself at the thought of me pinning you down to the bed and fucking you relentlessly?" he asks, and your mind pictures it word to word.

"Yes. I want you to—I want you to fuck me foolish—make me—make me see stars—while—while your cock rams into me..." you stutter, struggling to strip yourself out of your lingerie.

"Pretty filthy thoughts for a beautiful face like yours, Angel." His tone is teasing as he continues, "wanting a stranger you just met to do all these vile things to you...you're a cum-slut aren't you?"

Dirty talk was never your cup of tea, it made you cringe internally but there was something about Yunho's deep and sultry voice that made you wet, insanely wet. You bite your lip, conscience half gone to the sound of his trembling breathing, and rub your clit—the sensation only brings butterflies in your stomach, because in your mind those were his fingers and not yours. In your mind everything you did to yourself was replaced with him, and it was enough to get you started.

Biting back on a moan, you reply, "yeah...I want you to—I want you to do all the vile stuff to me."

You hear certain shuffling in the background alongside a long pause and then, your ears catch up on his soft little grunts. Nothing prepared your imagination for what you were thinking; him in his bed or just in his gaming chair, with his cock out, stroking himself at the thought of you.

"Your—your wish is my command," he growls, his deep voice resonating in your ear, "would love to finger your tight little cunt, drawing out these pretty moans from your mouth..."

You slide one finger down your slit, and eventually ease it in your hole; it brought discomfort at first, a little, but when you started moving it deep within you, you felt your walls clench slightly around it.

"Fuck...yes, I want you to spread—spread me open with your fingers."

He did not need to know that you were fingering yourself, your voiceless grunts and whispers were enough for him to imagine it. Picturing you plunge your fingers into your cunt, he increases the pace of his hand stroking his cock; though, he keeps himself steady. He couldn't really help himself and gradually increases the rhythm of his movements.

"Add another finger, baby." he mumbles, closing his eyes and leaning back against his chair.

You oblige, adding another finger in your hole.

"How does it feel?"

"Good—feels good, Yunho." You mewl his name, scissoring your fingers inside of you.

"You're doing great, princess. Now, curl your fingers..." he manages to squeak out in a whisper, pumping his cock with busy motions.

His chest rises and falls rhythmically to your moans, and you do as he says; curling your fingers inside you, you feel a certain warmth lingering in your stomach. You were getting close to your climax, without even having to anything more—the knot strikes a jolt of tightness in the pit of your stomach, and you moan out loud. Really loud.

"I want you to feel me, Yunho." you breathe out, aroused. "I want to feel you too—feel your cock sliding in and out of me—fucking me good with it."

"Oh baby," he goes silent for a second, focused on stroking himself, "I'll fuck you good—I'll fuck you till you're begging for me to stop..."

"Ah fuck," you arch your back off the mattress, trying to chase your high.

Your fingers plunge in and out, increasing tension in your stomach and gut; your tightness was gradually easing up, and so you decide to insert another finger in. The stretch stung, however, pleasurable, making you whimper his name out loud.

"Yunho...!"

"Yes, baby, I know." he winces in diversion. "Hold on a little longer, I'm close—I'm close too."

He breathes out, increasing the pace of his hand; his cock slick with his precum and it spreads along the shaft as he continues to pump himself. You could hear the strain in his voice, indicating you, he indeed was close to his own climax; you were too, knowing your fingers were hitting your sweet spot every time they thrusted in you. Keeping your phone on loudspeaker, you set it on the nightstand and use your other hand to rub your clit. You increase the pace of your fingers, flesh squelching, your juices lightly lapping against your fingers—the knot tightens delicately in your stomach as your tempo remains constant.

Yunho bucks his hips into hands, composing himself as he thrusts his cock into his hand, thinking about your tight cunt. He has a colourful mind too, picturing himself rocking his hips so that his cock hits all of your deepest parts. His lungs convulse, fighting the urge to moan but it breaks out of his lips anyway. He moans your name, shaking and struggling to hold his phone next to his ear—he does the same as you, sets his phone aside while keeping it on speaker.

"Such a dirty little slut, fingering herself to the thought of my cock thrusting into her," his voice gives you a push, fuels your soul with the fire it lacked. In retrospect, he needed something too, to tip him off his edge as he fucked his hand. "Fuck...needs my cock to make her happy..."

"Yes, please," you cry, tears rolling down the side of your face as your fingers do their work.

Your high was approaching you, so close, almost there. The limit to hold it in was past the point, he could say something and you would be riding down your orgasm—you needed him, his voice, his words. On the other hand, Yunho's patience was running thin, he wanted to finish it off—feeling the warmth of his hand pushing him to his edge, he smirks to himself and throws his head back.

"Are you close, princess? Cause I am..." he grunts.

You nod your head, pursing your lips together to make a gentle sound of humming. You didn't realise it yet, but you were bucking your hips to your fingers, letting them curl and slip in deep inside you; grinding your hips against your fingers, you let out a satisfied groan—the tightness in the pit of your stomach comes undone. Rummaging your hand to hold the headboard behind you, you brace yourself as your high washes over you with a vehement intensity. You let our shaky breaths, well beyond being breathless, as your fingers slowly make their way out of your heat. Your chest rises and falls, tremors spread under your skin with your juices dripping down your inner thighs.

"Fuck, princess..."

His groan is a little static, coming from your phone as it leaves your imagination to run wild. You picture him slumped in his chair with his load spurting out to stain his lower abdomen and clothes. In reality, Yunho breathes through his mouth, letting it fall agape when his high comes crashing down onto him. He had never felt such rush of satisfaction by only indulging himself with you on call; he had never felt himself cumming so hard for anyone with any real action, but here he was, panting and shaking, stroking off his climax as he grimaced at his hand full of his cum.

There's a long moment of silence between you two, and in that silence, the post-orgasm clarity sinks deep within you. The thought of you being so indecent with a man you met in the morning, not even knowing him for more than a day, brought some coherence to your mind. Though, the best is to let it go and keep it in your bounds of inadvertent thrills of late night.

Your body feels languid, and tired; wondering the same for him.

"That was..."

"It happened in the moment," Yunho breathlessly pronounces, "we're just two strangers who have nothing to do with each other, right?"

"Well..."

You sit straighter in your bed, staring at your phone as you bite your lip; you were waiting for him to speak.

"Well what?" he mumbles, a sly smile stretching his lips.

"I thought...never mind. I'm way over in my head." You shrug it off, pulling the sheets over your body as the embarrassment drowned you out. "It's fine, we'll pretend this never happened."

"What? Are you crazy?" his voice is much clear now, with the obvious tone of bewilderment. "Gosh, Angel. You don't know how hard I came for you. I can't pretend this never happened; instead, I wouldn't mind giving us..."

He trails, dragging his words in a whisper with hopes of you completing him. "...giving us a try, like just keeping our relationship exclusive to sex?"

"If you're down for it." he mumbles, "I don't want to do anything that you're uncomfortable with."

"I'll think about it."

You smiled to yourself, thinking about that possibility. When the sun rose to a new day, you found yourself pondering. Not exactly in the 'deep venture' of it, but you just kept your mind busy with Yunho's proposal and thought of the consequences if you were to ever agree to it. Friends with benefits with a soon-to-graduate hot senior? That sounds tempting, a lot, it also fuels your infatuation with him. But on the other hand, you didn't want to go down that road with him. There were second thoughts in your mind, of course there'd be—you maybe, sort of, liked this man, after all, he does give off the vibes that he'd be a great boyfriend. You didn't want to ruin that possibility with him.

The rest of your day goes as scheduled, you attend a few of your lectures in the morning. Currently, it's afternoon and you have last of your classes to attend. Amidst all the excitement and stress, your friend, Jongho texts you, asking you to get him your lab-coat for his practical class. You find him standing in front the chemistry department, smiling and engaged in a chatter with someone else. And upon noticing it from afar, the person who he was talking to was Yunho. It was such a contrast, both were happy-go-lucky kind of guys, but Jongho seemed more innocent than Yunho (after the night you had spent with him, it was hard to picture him being anything but innocent). You could make it out from his tall built, and silver-bluish hair styled in a mullet, regardless with his back facing you. Hesitation stricken, you somehow manage to make your way to him; because Jongho had already noticed you even before you turn around and run away.

"There she is!" Jongho glees, and Yunho turns around, meeting your eyes. "Thank you so much for bringing it, I really despise prof. Yuen when he gets all judgmental about 'forgetting' to bring a lab-coat to his practical class."

"Hey, no worries," you smile at him, handing him your lab-coat. "I have his practical class day after tomorrow, till then the coat is yours." You laugh it off, awkwardly glancing at Yunho.

Jongho notices the out-of-ordinary ogles you made at Yunho, chiming in, "oh right, Angel, this is Yunho. I live with him and six other guys. But that's not important and ummm.." he looks at Yunho, scratching the back of his neck, "she's Angel, my only friend in this university."

Yunho smiles warmly at you, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he does. "Oh so, it's her you can't stop chattering about?" he chuckles lightly, "and what do you mean 'your only friend' aren't we your friends too?"

Jongho rolls his eyes, "you guys are nothing but a pain in the ass. Just today, in the morning Wooyoung and San drank all the milk and kept empty containers back in the refrigerator. I had to crunch on cereals before heading out for my morning classes."

"So, are you tainting all others because of those two individuals?" Yunho retorts.

You purse your lips together, ineptly crossing your eyes between them; you were aware of Jongho's living condition, but you could have never expected Yunho to be one of his flatmates. It was true, Jongho lived with seven other guys from the university, some of them having a full time job, and at times he would complain about them to you. Though you never really focused too much on what he had to say, or even catch their names.

"Uhhh..." you trail, offering them a tight lipped smile.

"Angel, come on, back me up." Jongho grumbles.

"I can't say anything about your flatmates, Jongho." The chestnut-haired man rolls his eyes, and you continue, "but I've always listened to your rants."

"I bet you're a good listener, Angel." Yunho taunts you, "and an even better friend to him."

"She is," Jongho breaks out in a smile. "Hey, you should totally come over on Thursday. We've got a game night planned."

"Uh, Jongho, I don't think I'd want to play board games with eight guys." You mutter under your breath.

"Who said we play board games?" Yunho says, drawing his brows together. "Though, it'll be fun for a while, having a girl over."

"Yes, Angel. You should consider it. Just—just think about it okay?" the enthusiasm in Jongho's voice isn't hard to ignore. "Now, I've got a class, so I'll see you in a bit."

With that he disappears, leaving you and Yunho stranded alone with nothing to talk about or a lot to talk about.

"What a lovely coincidence," Yunho begins, smiling at you, "the girl he talked about was you all along; well, he painted a pretty picture of you in our heads."

"I see Jongho as anything but more than a friend." you pout, "and this game night, should I even consider coming?"

"Well, it depends on you, princess," he smirks, "it depends on whether or not you could keep your hands to yourself. Because I'll be there."

"Oh, don't put yourself on a high pedestal, mister." You roll your eyes, "I'll think about it."

"Don't you have a lot to think about already?" he steps closer to you, towering over you as he leans close to your ear, "I don't think I can go on without touching you for the entire time you'd be there, so really do think about it."

He straightens up and mumbles one last time before leaving you completely high and dry.

"And if you do come, I will really fuck you senseless."

Chapter Text

Standing in front of the wooden door, the one moored with the numbers "405" in silver chrome, you're hesitant to raise your hand ring the doorbell. There you were, in front of Jongho's apartment, the one he shares with seven other men. The apparent loft was located a little farther from the university, situated on the east side of the city where the streets are abuzz. You've been to this part of the town, the quiet by day and busy by night kinda place—this area has a lot of interesting spots, one of them being Jongho's loft where eight people are residing.

Tiny tremors have already taken up the space under your skin, demurring your sense of self to the awaiting incredulity on the other side of the door. You take a deep breath in, letting out with a feigned smile as you bring out your phone to text the only man you knew inside. Technically, two of them. Your phone buzzes in your hand, even before you could send a text to your friend; having received a text, which reads 'are you coming over?' from Yunho, you brace yourself and heave out another sigh.

"Here goes nothing," you mumble to yourself, dipping your finger against the elevated button as a mellow ding rings inside, loud and clear, however.

You could hear muffled whispers coming from the other side. Anticipation had numbed a part of you, shattering the reality when the locks click, and the door flings open inside. The man who stood there was staring at you with a small smile, comforting. Though, you could only focus on how well-mannered he seemed, even from his body language—he was gorgeous.

He ushers you in, "oh, you must be Angel. I didn't expect you to be this early, actually."

"Jongho gave me the time..." you trail.

"Ah, then I believe he must've mixed up some of his timings. I apologise on his behalf."

"It's fine, to be honest."

You shrug and step inside; the vestibule has a shoe rack to the side, housing house slippers and other accessories. There's a coat rack right beside it where the ebony haired man hangs your coat after asking you to hand it to him. He picks out a pair of house slippers for you to wear, laying them on the floor as you take your time slipping out of your boots and into them. As he leads you further inside the loft, you notice everything about the place—even the man in front of you. His back faced you as you strode in, but you could gauge him to be as tall as Yunho, maybe a few inches shorter but that didn't matter much. He was clad in a beige dress shirt, unbuttoned at the top to expose bit of his tanned skin and pairing the shirt with dark brown pants. The ruly strands of his hair were permed, and framed his face neatly, even though a few of it laid flat on his forehead.

The narrow hallway leads you to the living room from the vestibule, where you find three men lounging leisurely on the couch and the floor. The living room was minimally decorated with the centre space being occupied by the couch and two chairs seemingly from the same set, a wooden coffee table was situated in front of the couch and a long cabinet was placed behind the couch. On top of the cabinet were few glass showpieces and magazines strewn on about, not making it seem crowded; your eyes stray past it and to the long sliding doors at the back, aligned in the same lines of the cabinet. The doors opened to a small balcony apparently, but the curtains were draped over to give you any sight of the evening outside. There was no television in the living room but oddly enough there were set of three hallways which ran along three different directions. You wondered where those took you to, even more so, you wondered how huge this loft actually was if it was housing eight people.

You focus back on the men, two of them were seated on the couch, close together and the other one sat down, between the couch and the coffee table, leaning against the couch as he scrolled through his phone. One of the two sitting on the couch has a broad yet teasing smile on his face, as he mumbles softly at the person to his right and the person to his right...he was actually breathtaking—he didn't try to hide the annoyance on his face as the other teased him on. However, the one sitting down on the floor was a little too lost in his world to even acknowledge your presence. It left a bitter taste in your mouth, but you played along anyway.

"Guys, Angel's here." The man leading you announces, capturing the attention of the others. "Be nice to her."

His warning tone makes the other three scoff, but unbothered by their response, he turns to you and offers you an even wider smile. "Make yourself comfortable. I'll get you something to drink..."

He's two steps ahead of you but then swivels on his heels and murmurs awkwardly, "I'm Seonghwa. If you need anything else, just let me know."

With that he's off, sauntering down another hallway to the right, merging with the open spaced kitchen. You take another deep breath, rummaging your eyes through the scene in front of you. The teasing guy has his hair pulled back in a half ponytail, a few streaks of blond stitched in between his black hair; he seems smug, and defiant, probably a delinquent.

"Hi," he initiates, a lazy smile on his face. "Come on, take a seat."

He shifts on the couch, purposely sliding closer to the man onto his right, as to make space for you on his left. "Only the best seat in Wooyoung's house for a pretty woman like you."

Listening to him, the other one scoffs, "tone down on your confidence, Woo."

"Flirting is all about confidence, Sangie," he keeps his teasing tone low and pinches the man's cheeks. "Right, Angel?"

"Uhhh..."

"Please ignore him, he's a little straightforward and hasn't learnt how to speak to women properly," the said man rolls his eyes, "on a serious note, please sit anywhere but next to him."

"Ugh, you always treat me like a sick joke..." Wooyoung sighs, dramatically throwing himself off to the other side of the couch. "I'm nothing but a man with a good heart."

"Your exes say otherwise, but okay."

As the two continue back and forth with their unsolicited burns and remarks, you decide to make yourself comfortable on the chair adjacent to the couch, seemingly belonging to the set of the seating arrangement. Two pair of eyes follow you as you sit down and pull the hem of your skirt down in an attempt to cover whatever it could. You were slightly regretting your dressing choices; you wore a black skirt which rode upto your mid thighs and paired it with a red crop top which was tucked in your skirt. Going a little overboard, you even wore thigh high socks, ending an inch below the skirt. You didn't bother with makeup and kept it light, having only applied light blush and peachy eyeshadow, and gloss on your lips.

The third man was least interested in meeting you or even getting the introductions started. You noticed how buff he was, not much compared to the man sitting on the couch right above him; but he was toned in places a man should be, and regrettably, his body was mostly hidden behind an oversized cloak of red sweatshirt and baggy sweats. Wooyoung had a casual approach to his outfit, wearing a black jacket with its zipper pulled all the way down till the middle of his chest, revealing a simple white graphic tee under it complementing the outfit with baggy sweatpants; on the other hand, the man next to him, having awe-inspiring features and a body worth drooling on, has black hair growing out till his shoulders, wore a black woven cardigan and a black tank top underneath, with black jogger shorts. Black was his shade, since his skin was stark and as fair as the snow, like Yunho.

"Jongho talks a lot about you," Wooyoung begins, grinning. "It's nice to meet you in person, finally. Name's Wooyoung and this is Yeosang, don't pay him any mind, he's a little vapid. And umm, that's Mingi. Hey, Mingi, why don't you introduce yourself."

He nods to the man sitting on the floor, who then actually takes a little effort to glance your way. Mingi grunts in return for your dazed smile, which already tells you that it's going to be hard to get along with him.

"Mingi, that's rude," Seonghwa chimes, keeping a smile on his face as he emerges out of the hallway with a tray of drinks in his hand, "introduce yourself properly."

The latter takes it as a warning and clears his throat, "Mingi, Song Mingi." he eyes you for a second before turning to Seonghwa, "that's the best you'd get from of me."

Seonghwa sighs, placing the tray of drinks on the coffee table and urging you to pick a glass, "I really apologise for his behaviour, but have a drink and try not to pay him any heed."

You reflect back with a smile and pick a glass filled with cola, "thank you."

"So, you're in Jongho's department, right?" Seonghwa asks, sitting next to Wooyoung. "We've heard a lot about you from him, actually. He's always gushing about you and how much he likes to hang out with you."

Okay, you didn't know the latter of that.

"I really didn't know that..." you mumble, taking a sip of cola. "We're friends. Right. We share same subject groups so, he's my only friend, to be honest. And he's enough so I didn't bother making any more friends."

"Hey, now you have us!" Wooyoung cheers, "any friend of Jongho's is our friend."

"Calm down, Wooyoung," Yeosang rolls his eyes, "for the better part of it, I'll have to agree with him. From now on, we're your friends too. So, don't hesitate."

Seonghwa chirps, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he talks, "you're in your sophomore year, right?

"Final semester," you mutter, "in few months I'll be in my junior year. Just as Jongho."

Seonghwa nods, "I hope you're not feeling uncomfortable with us; all these unfamiliar faces..."

"I'm good, actually." You reassure and Wooyoung adds, "I think I have seen you around the campus, so not an unfamiliar face to take a sight of—maybe you've seen me around too, I am a culinary major."

Even though you wouldn't admit it to yourself, or them, you had long forgotten about the awkwardness without Jongho being here. And, deeming Wooyoung as a culinary major was something you probably never even considered in your wildest dreams. One by one, after Wooyoung's little introduction, the others take his lead and talk about themselves.

"I'm a college dropout," Yeosang begins, "and now I'm a freelancer. I mostly do graphic design and illustration."

You nod, intently listening to them.

"I graduated last year." Seonghwa says, "now, I work full time as a software designer for a small startup company."

Intriguing.

There was something about Seonghwa you found alluringly interesting, like maybe it was the way he spoke to you, or the way he engaged with the other guys. Expectantly, you glance over at Mingi, hoping, he too, would have something to say or add to the discussion. Everyone's eyes are on him, expecting.

Mingi croons his neck up to meet your eyes, and he sighs, "I'm a dance major and I graduate soon."

So... similar to Yunho?

You see him lock his phone and stuff it into the pocket of his sweatpants, not uttering a word further; Seonghwa clears his throat and casts a longing gaze at the front door.

"Others will be here soon," he says, grabbing a glass of sprite from the tray. "I actually sent Jongho and San out to get us some beers, there's only one six pack left in the fridge. And I also did not expect you to come early." he was informing you of Jongho's whereabouts, "Hongjoong and Yunho are usually the late ones because of their work."

At the mention of Yunho, your stomach lurches and your mind recalls to the night you two had lost yourself in the heat of the moment—you were hiding it pretty well, at least, you thought you were. There's nothing trapped between your teeth, there's no evident clues to that night for anyone to know; let alone anyone would doubt you two had interacted before. Though, your heart claims to have an intense anticipation for this night to unfold, considering Yunho had warned you that he would fuck you senseless if you showed up tonight. And here you were...

"Beer gets us going," Wooyoung comments, eyeing Yeosang. "But this one needs wine."

"How is that relevant in this context?" the latter deadpans, causing Mingi to chuckle softly, "he's intending to say you've got an expensive taste, Sangie."

Yeosang pouts, "wine tastes better than beer."

"I'd drink to that," Seonghwa laughs along, raising his glass and looking at you, "I hope you're not a lightweight. Unless you don't drink at all."

"I do. Occasionally." you grimace at the memory sitting far back in your head, the first time you drank alcohol (beer) wasn't really worth it. "I am not so fond of alcohol, though. Who says you need to have alcohol to have fun?"

"I do," Wooyoung deadpans.

"No one asked you—"

Yeosang grows silent in his words upon hearing the lock to the front door rattle; soon, it's being pushed inside with a heavy voice—which you could never forget—grumbling to someone. The first person to walk in the living room is a blue haired man, a lot shorter than Yunho, carrying a leather laptop bag and a roll of red fabric in his hand. He somehow manages to stumble across the floor to the long dining table in front of the kitchen—dumping the stuff on top of the table, he slumps himself on the chair and sighs. Yunho is the second person to walk inside, followed by Jongho and other man with sharp eyes and features.

"I told you that man was weird!" the one with sharp eyes groans, and Yunho sighs, "but you didn't have to say that right to his face, did you now, Sannie?"

"If we hadn't made a sound, it would've gotten weirder," Jongho adds, walking in with a couple of polythene bags crinkling in his hands.

"He almost licked my neck!" the other—apparently named Sannie or to your understanding, San as Seonghwa mentioned it before, groans, "that's why I never take the elevator."

"I only suggested 'cause we had stuff to carry." Jongho raises his hands to show him the bags he carried in them. "I didn't think Mr. Yoshida would follow us in."

"Guys, drop it," the blue haired man tuts from the table, raising his head to meet your eyes, "we've got a guest, might as well show her a little respect."

He smiles at you before getting up from his chair; and that's when the others' heads turn toward you. Jongho grins wide, Yunho smirks, and San appears to have wide eyes and rounded lips, confused as if.

"Angel!" Jongho squeals, taking tiny hop-like steps toward you; his arms open wide as to hug you.

Placing your glass back on the tray, you find yourself rushing to him to get his hug. You round the coffee table from the other side as Mingi sat still on the couch's side and scoffed at your excitement to hug your friend. You and him are going to have problems getting along if you ever decide to hang out with the guys in the future. Seamlessly, you wrap your arms around Jongho's chest as he somehow manages to return the embrace with the bags in his hands.

"You made it!" he mumbles, pulling back.

"She was early," Seonghwa quips, getting up from the couch and heading to the kitchen. "You gave her the wrong time, baby bear."

"Hmm, I really apologise," he pouts, backing away from you and eventually tiptoeing to the kitchen, you follow him, a smile on your face.

"It's okay, baby bear," you tease him only to get a reaction out of him. And he groans, "that name isn't sticking. Please."

You shake your head, as you lean over the kitchen island and watch him place the bags on top of it. The polythene bags crinkle as he keeps them down and proceeds to take out their contents; there's chinese takeout in two of the bags, and the other one had a six pack. You're about to initiate a conversation with Jongho until you're interrupted by a sleek yet hoarse voice.

"So, you're Angel..." a soft voice resounds from behind you and when you turn, you find the blue haired man smiling at you, "I'm Hongjoong and I believe you've heard this from everyone here, but Jongho can't shut up about you."

You glance at Jongho. "Awww..."

"Ahhh, please. Stop it!" he whines louder, blushing.

"What? It's the truth." Hongjoong grins, "I'll freshen up while the others set up everything. Usually our game nights happen much later in the night. We made an exception for you 'cause this one's been nagging us for days now about inviting you."

He offers you a gentle smile before disappearing down the hallway leading to the left of the kitchen; his stringent yet relaxed posture had an imposed meaning behind his personality. From the way body language seemed more pronounced in the royal blue suit he adorned himself in and the way he hushed others, you could tell he was a domineering man. Someone whose authoritativeness would bring any woman down to her knees—you were thinking too much. Or were you really?

The desolate kitchen is rejoiced with Seonghwa's harmless little scolds directed at Jongho, but before you could comprehend any of their tiff, an arm snakes around your waist, with a presence warming up your side.

"Hey, Angel," his deep voice was like nectar, dripping in your ears and snaring your mind to his will. "Glad you could make it. Good choice. Good decision. And good thinking..." his words trail off to a whisper as he leans near your ear, "...but keeping my word—oh wait—keeping my promise, I'm going to keep you to myself for this night. I hope you're prepared for that."

His arm skims down your waist, fingers fluttering below and under your skirt as his tickling touches caress your inner thighs. That's it. He doesn't inch his hand closer to your aroused cunt; you were wet, you knew—his words were riling you up with every ounce of strength in them. In retrospect, you were playing out the night in your head where he'd be fucking you the way he wants to, the way he promises to.

Clasping your bottom lip with your teeth, you try to squeeze your thighs, to get that extra little friction to feel something (at least). Though, it had slipped your mind that his hand was still holding onto one of your thighs; catching up on your intentions, he lightly smacks your inner thigh and draws out a yelp from your lips. Your cunt clenches around nothing, feeling the heated rumble in your chest and the exasperated urge to have him stuffed in you.

The sound you let out attracted the squabbling pair; they cast their eyes on you, weary and dubious, silently judging the interaction between you two. You could call it your luck, but the two weren't able to get a view of what was happening behind the kitchen island.

"Are you alright, Angel?" Yunho feigns his concern, taking a small step away from you.

"Feeling under the weather?" Jongho urges, lips pouting slightly. "Do you want to leave...?"

"I'm okay," you voice out, taking a deep breath. "Yunho was talking about how peaches bruise easily and I just happened to gasp, dramatically."

"No double entendres, right Yun?" Seonghwa jokes and Yunho nods his head, "really, nothing of the sort. Just a casual conversation."

He clears his throat, "By any means, I'll take your leave. I need to freshen up and change my clothes. Jongho, go help the others set the living room."

With a ribbing curve stretching on his lips, Yunho excuses himself and saunters away from you down the hallway on the right. The moment he's out of your eyesight, Jongho slides next to you, purposely bumping into your hips as he does. Meanwhile, Seonghwa picks out the takeout containers and other necessities before leaving the two of you in the kitchen.

"Angel," Jongho murmurs, "are you trying to impress someone."

He's smug.

You shake your head, refusing to meet his eyes as he leans over to taunt you. "Shut up! Why would I need to impress any of your flatmates?"

"The way you're dressed, I guess," he shrugs, staring at you from top to bottom, "thigh high socks, that skirt, that top. Modest make-up. You wouldn't take this much effort if you weren't trying to impress someone."

"Hmm...so, who is it?" he nudges your arm, his lips pressed together—a line struck with jealousy, probably.

"Jongho, you're getting the wrong idea, why would I really want to impress any of the guys I barely know?" You pout, glancing at him for a hot second before reverting back to staring down at your fingers as you tapped them away on the island counter.

"I don't know, for starters they're all good looking." he turns on his feet and leans against the countertop, "maybe you're seeking out a relationship with someone. Either it's been too long since you've gotten laid or someone here has intrigued you enough to date them."

"Jongho..."

He interrupts, "is it Yunho?"

"What?"

"Do you like Yu—"

"—living room has been...am I interrupting something?" Seonghwa questions, stopping a few steps short from the two of you.

"Oh, it's nothing," Jongho murmurs, sounding a little bitter. "We were discussing a few things related to our classes."

Seonghwa nods and you stifle a silly whine, the stupefying urge to confront Jongho about his nonchalant sneer at your outfit. The older picks up a few more things from the kitchen before heading out; two of you follow him to the living room, with Jongho not uttering a single word. Sighing to yourself, you find the coffee table in the living room was pushed to a side, leaving the centre carpeted space to be occupied. Others were already sitting in a circle, eating out of the Chinese takeout containers —you lurk behind a little as the sitting arrangements played out. Jongho clears his throat and sits next to Mingi, leaning back against the couch where Seonghwa makes himself comfortable. Wooyoung, Yeosang and San, they sat opposite to the couch, slumping themselves against the coffee table as support.

You take a deep breath, put on a frail smile as you sit down next to San on the lush and soft carpet; the man offers you a dimpled smile and hands you a takeout container along with chopsticks and a bottle of beer. Helplessly, you eye Jongho from the corner of your vision, as he too starts guzzling down food from his own container. Sitting next to Jongho would have made either of you uncomfortable since the harmless squabble between you two had been left unresolved. You were doing it out of spite, however.

"So, what are we playing tonight?" Yeosang pipes in, gazing around and pointing his stained chopsticks at Seonghwa.

Seonghwa shrugs, "we'll keep it light. Nothing which strains Angel's ease or brings her discomfort."

"Damn," Wooyoung winces, "I was about suggest strip-uno."

San rolls his eyes, glaring at the said man—slowly chewing the bite of chicken in his mouth, "I sometimes wonder how your brain functions."

"It probably doesn't," Jongho adds, earning a whine from the latter. "Suggest something else."

"How about strip-monopoly?" Wooyoung suggests, eyebrow twitching in a goading manner.

"Anything which has strip in it will be rebuked; so, something else has to work," Seonghwa utters with annoyance, fixing himself a container of noodles.

"To be fair, I don't have any problem playing 'strip' games," you shyly enunciate, not meeting anyone's gazes on you. "In all honesty, it sounds fun. And what's the worst that could happen?"

You were joking. In your mind you were considering all worst possible scenarios where things could wrong; you could be taken advantage of and made to strip all the way, you could lose the remaining of your dignity to Yunho in case you go all bare, or—there's no or here, it's too risky to play these games with them.

"We understand your perspective, darling. But we're men and for a woman to engage herself in those kind of games with us is both unethical and unfair," Hongjoong's voice gushes through, offering your spine a dainty tingle. "We will keep it light, and hearty, as Seonghwa said."

He has his hands stuffed in the pockets of his black sweatpants; on top he wears a tank top, exposing his defined arms, not too buff or too lean. The deep cut on his neckline gives you a small glimpse of his chest, eventually delighting you with an accidental nip-slip. It happens again as he carefully sits next to Seonghwa, making sure he doesn't hurt Jongho or Mingi who were leaning against the front of the couch. He runs his hand through his freshly washed hair, sighing out a string of incoherent words as he glances at the man next to him. Seonghwa is quick enough to hand him his share food and as he eats, his eyes occasionally fleet over to you.

"If you bend the rules of your game night for me, then how is that fair and ethical?" you tilt your head to a side, pouting at him. "I'm comfortable with whatever, so I think we should not waste any more time."

Seonghwa chuckles and Hongjoong breaks out into a mischievous smile, keeping his stare on you. "Alright then, we'll play strip-uno as Wooyoung initially suggested."

Darkness swirled in Hongjoong's eyes, the kind of ambiguity which dominates—something like the predator forcing its prey into submission. You were weak already, staring and catching up on the minute details sketched in his eyes, and his lips. Hongjoong had an authority, a commanding aura which could force any one into submission. You were no stranger to these kind of men, and for some reason, you were hella attracted to them.

"Sure," Wooyoung sleazes, smirking. He keeps the takeout to a side, and leans back onto the coffee table to grab what seems to be a deck of cards. "I had already picked these out. And to explain the rules," he trails off, eyeing everyone and shuffling the cards. "Don't worry, Angel. They're quite easy to understand."

Hongjoong begins, "there are less severe penalties for when you fail to match the colour of the cards in the discard pile, or when you draw a card from the draw pile."

"There's a strip penalty when the person before you throws a draw two or draw four in," San says from next to you, "you have to take a shot when you get a wild card from the person before you. And as Hongjoong said, the less severe penalties are truth or dare, and kiss a player, with tongue."

You reel back, repeating his words in your mind, "kiss a player, you guys are okay kissing each other?"

"I've frenched all of them if you're wondering, except for Yunho because I'm not his 'type'." Wooyoung says, passing two bottles of beer to Seonghwa and Hongjoong, "besides, we all have different sexual preferences. It doesn't matter to us."

You nod along, noticing how quiet Mingi had been from the start. He has a problem with you, doesn't he? You heave out a sigh and grin, "alrighty. I understood the rules, so can we start?"

"Aww, are you forgetting about me, Angel?" Yunho's voice ridicules you, followed by his footsteps as he sits next to you. "I'm hurt," he pouts, taking his food container from San as Wooyoung passes it to him. "I'm devastated, really. I hold no significance to you, do I?"

You look at him, cheeks heating up instantly when you catch him staring back at you smugly; the outfit he changed into was far more fitting to his personality than the one he had before. He was wearing a matching red hoodie with Mingi, and black jogger shorts. You notice how well his blue hair contrasted with the hoodie, finding it cute the way some of his strands kissed the collars and hid beneath the hood. His skin was flushed, yet as fair as snow—and his scent was driving you wild. A miasma of musk, cinnamon and vanilla. You were losing your mind sitting next to him.

Though, when you come back to your senses, you realise he's being dramatic. Overly dramatic. You roll your eyes and continue eating, shaking your head as a sly smile stretches your lips. Jongho catches up on your interaction with him, side eyeing you while acknowledging nothing.

"There's too many of you, it's hard to keep up with everyone," you snide at Yunho, your smirk widening. "So, excuse me if I tend to forget 'bout some of you."

"Oh Angel, I'm quite unforgettable, you know," Yunho jeers, sneakily pinching your waist. He leans closer to your ear, whispering under his breath, "but sadly you'll have to wait the night until I show how you much of an exceptional man I am."

"Keep dreaming..." you lean toward him and murmur, "you're really confident in your skills, aren't you? Can't wait to prove you wrong."

"I think I've already proven myself to you the night you—"

"—ahem. I think we should start with the game." Mingi clears his throat, purposely keeping it loud enough for the two of you to pull apart. "I don't know about Yunho, but I've got an early class tomorrow."

"Oh come on, Mingi," Yunho whines, "I'm making a benign effort to be friends with Angel. She seems cool."

Jongho begins, rolling his eyes, "oh, she is. I've already narrated of her tales to you."

Was he sarcastic? You couldn't tell.

Hongjoong sighs, his voice booming, "enough, I can't go on a day without either of you jabbering at each other." Staring at Wooyoung, he calls out, "just deal the cards, Woo."

Soon the cards are dealt and each of you receive seven cards; the games go on, filled with whines, groans, cheers and derisive comments. In the first few rounds, you lose your socks, lucky. Jongho loses his sweatshirt, but he wore a full sleeved shirt under it; Wooyoung was only in his boxers, and you knew Yeosang and Mingi had it planned all along. San, Seonghwa and Hongjoong were borderline drunk to the number of shots they were forced to take. Mingi and Yunho were fully dressed, and neither too drunk because of the shots—although Yunho kept leaning over to your side to whisper filthy things in your ear. You were mostly on guard against him, praying to your own soul to keep San from listening to any of his coquettish remarks.

The current round you were stuck in was supposedly the last round of the night according to Hongjoong and Seonghwa. Surprisingly, everyone agreed to their judgement and no one riposted against them. It shows how influential those two were, and you found that extremely hot. You had two cards in your hand, all of them predicting your victory—that is only if San doesn't snitch on you and makes it hard for you to win. In all likelihood, everyone around you wants you to lose, that's how the game works.

You hold your breath, watching San take his turn after Wooyoung, and all hell comes crashing down onto you when he flicks a draw two on the discarded pile.

Oh no.

You have to strip.

He was saving his best card for the last, which makes his attempt at drawing more cards have a lot more sense. You sigh, dropping your cards down and slouching your shoulders.

"Strip, Angel," Yunho rejoices, nudging your shoulder with his.

"Yes, strip, strip, strip, strip..." Wooyoung chants and the others follow him, except for Mingi, Hongjoong and Seonghwa.

Seonghwa clears his throat, silencing everyone. "You don't have to if you're uncomfortable, Angel."

You shake your head, all the alcohol (especially, the vodka and beer) buzzing in your mind and coerced you to do the unthinkable. You find the hem of your crop top, fingers pinching at the very edge; with a ribald smile on your face, you pull your top over your head and fling it across towards Jongho. He catches it in one of his hands, as his other hand held onto a bottle of beer. These were the consequences of you not keeping a count of how many beers you had guzzled while playing and interacting with San. If your hazy memory serves you right, then San is a bartender and thanks to him showing you how to drink beer and vodka, you were woozy.

Some of the guys whistle at your exposed chest, while some avert their eyes and cover them with the palm of their hand. Yunho wasn't one of the guys to turn a blind eye on you; he stared. Being taller than you gave him an advantage at peeking over your shoulder and since you were slouched, the cups of your bra dangled slightly off—exposing a lot of your deal than you thought. He gulped lightly upon drinking in your curves, and the way your lacy bra hugged your tits—he was drooling at the sight, imagining what it would be like to grope and hold them. They actually seemed perfect for his hands—perfect to knead and suck.

"Angel is a wild one," Wooyoung mumbles lowly, looking away in haste as he realises he had been staring. "Wilder than me, to be honest."

"What?" you shrug, "a draw two means strip. I stripped."

"Yes, but we didn't think you'd actually do it," Jongho hisses through his gritted teeth, crawling the space across to drape his sweatshirt over you.

To your undivided attention, and bewilderment, Jongho belonged to the ones who were caught staring at you; which also included San, and Mingi.

Yunho clicks his tongue, "I certainly did not expect that, certainly did not."

Jongho scoffs at Yunho's reaction and returns back to his place, "no one expected that."

You pout, tugging the ends of Jongho's sweatshirt over your head to cover yourself. "It was fun, though."

You were starting to think it was alcohol talking in your stead.

"Alright, alright," Hongjoong draws everyone's attention, even yours, "like I said, this was supposedly the last round, so let's call it a night. And, Angel," he pauses, perusing your tipsy face, "I think you should stay the night, you're inebriate, regardless not a lot to misguide yourself to your dorm room alone at night. But it's not safe for you to leave in your current state of mind. So, please spend the night here."

You wanted to protest, but then you realised you stayed outside way past the timings of your dormitories, meaning, you'll have to spend the night here and somehow manage to sneak in tomorrow morning.

"Okay..." you nod.

Seonghwa adds, "you can sleep in my bedroom, it has a joint bathroom. Plus it is spacious and has a comfortable bed." he gets up from the couch, keeping his empty bottle of beer down on the carpet, "come on, I'll show you to my room."

You nod again, stumbling up on your feet as you take small strides toward him.

"Okay, whose duty is it to clean tonight?" you hear Hongjoong ask, followed by Mingi's and San's groans. He continues, "clean up before you go to bed, lads. Good night."

A couple of whines resound from behind you as Seonghwa leads you down the hallway to his bedroom. The wooden door has a board hung on it, which reads 'do not disturb' with a much tinier font written below it, 'knock twice in case of emergency'. It makes you wonder of the shenanigans which have occurred in this house. The wooden door opens smoothly inside and you're ushered inside a very neat and clean room.

"I did not get much time to clean around after coming back from work," he apologises, leading you further in.

You did not understand why he was apologising, his room was spotless with no unnecessary mess around. Rummaging your curious eyes through his room, you notice a lot of things; there's a window on the wall opposite to the entrance overlooking the Main Street, a queen size bed was pushed to the side of the room, and right below the window was a small desk with his MacBook on top alongside few other things arranged in a precise order. As said, there was a door to the left, where the bathroom was situated. Overall, the room was elegant with debonair decorations and furniture—nothing about it foretold you it was a man's room.

"To be fair, I'd be put to shame if you saw my dorm room." Muttering under your breath, you slump on the bed and watch Seonghwa's lips twitch into a smile.

"It's okay," he whispers, heading to his closet, which was adjacently placed to the bed. "I understand, you're a full time college student—trust me, my room used to be a mess too. It can't be that bad. Right?"

You grumble and throw yourself back on the mattress, it sinks to your weight and relaxes every muscle of your body. "I think I should call you over sometime. You could see it for yourself. Maybe, help me clean."

"Wouldn't mind that," he chuckles, his footsteps receding to you. "Here, change into something comfortable."

Sitting up straighter, you watch him hand you an oversized shirt and a pair of shorts. "There was no need for this."

"And there is no need for your formalities," he offers you a toothy grin. "Sleep wearing something light. I don't think your current outfit is all that comfortable."

"Alright." you mumble, waiting for him to take your leave before you could change.

"Sleep well," he sings, his smile crinkling the corner of his eyes as he does.

Turning on his heel he's almost out through the door when you ask, "where will you be sleeping? The couch? I'm sorry for that..."

"Couch? No. That place is a little ill-at-ease," he laughs, "but, I'll be sleeping with Hongjoong, he's got a bigger bed. And, you don't have to be sorry. What kind of men we'd be if we let you go to your dorms at the dead of night. Right? It's better if you stay and leave in the morning, I'll have Jongho or someone drop you off."

You nod along, butterflies in your stomach coming alive to his words. Chivalry wasn't dead, after all. But the thought of you spending the night here, with Yunho fixated on fucking you, might be the most exhilarating thing ever. Although, you were starting to catch those same fuzzy feelings for Seonghwa—thinking about the kind of man he'd be in bed. The sweet one, showering you with praises, being a soft dom, and all other things which you shouldn't be thinking about him.

"Good night, Angel."

He snaps you out of your dreams, bringing you to the reality.

"Good night, Seonghwa."

A smile fleets behind on your face when he leaves. The door closes with a soft thud, and you sigh, preparing yourself to change into the clothes he gave you. Quickly, you slip out of clothes and into the oversized shirt; for some reason you didn't feel the need to wear the shorts. Actually, the reasons were pretty obvious. Folding your clothes, you keep them on the desk and lay back in the bed. You heave out another breath and decide to surf through the internet, checking your socials, and other things. You're too dazed reading your department's group chat to even hear the sound of a knock on your door for the first time. When the knocks sound for the second time, even louder than before, you flinch and your phone slips off your grip; rolling your eyes as your heart tries to compose itself from the little jumpscare, you hop off the bed and saunter to the door to answer it.

You open the door a slit, only for it to be pushed aside by a burly man to make his way in. It was Yunho, you knew it from the all-too-familiar sounding grunt as you're pushed against the door in a blink of an eye. Trapped, he places one hand on your waist and the other next to your face, pressing his body with yours and forcing you back into the door.

"I told you, didn't I?" he murmurs leaning in, his breath tickles your face as he continues, "I said I'd be true to my words and here I am."

You close your eyes for a hot second, wanting to compose the fire flamed in your heart by his words; most precisely, by his darkened eyes staring right into your soul.

"Never doubted you," you grin, sliding your hands along his back and to his neck. Wrapping them around, you pull yourself close, your lips hovering a few whispers from his. "But the thing is, are you going to do what you intended on doing from the moment we started this, with all your flatmates around? Aren't you worried they might hear us?"

"I couldn't care any less about them," he smirks, brushing his lips against yours, "are you trying to get out of this? You were the one to start it, princess."

His voice is low, as he continues, "the shameless teasing with this raunchy outfit and the stripping, plus the unwanted provocation...do I need to say anything more?"

Shaking your head, you nudge your lips to touch his; he was taken off guard at first, but the moment he realised what you were doing, he grew wild. An untamed kiss broke out between you two, lips lapping and sucking in an unquenched desire. Both of his hands tug at your waist, causing your shirt to lift up slightly.

He mumbles against your lips but doesn't break the kiss. "Only a tee? God, you are such a tease."

And he's diving back into the kiss. It started off so innocent with only a mere touch, delicate yet hungry in way; but you didn't think it'd escalate so quickly into a pining war between your tongues. His warm tongue rubbed with yours, tackling it down to reach down your throat. You moan, not only because of the fact that his tongue was indisputably plunging down your throat, but also because he had traced one of his hands down your waist to the dainty band of your panties. Feeling him smirk against your lips, your stomach ties itself in a knot, realising he was about to something very odious to arouse you. Though, the kiss had already made you wet, your slick soaking into your panties.

One finger slips past the waistband, softly snapping it as he drags to your wet slit; you were melting in the heat his mouth offered, his tongue showing no signs of stopping at what it was doing. You were breathless, you wanted air, you wanted to breathe and peruse his flushed face. Seemingly suffocating, you tilt your head slightly behind to take a deep breath, your lungs filling in with much needed air—while he shows you his conceited smile, his eyes half-lidded from the pleasure he got after abusing your mouth.

"Tired already?" he bites his lower lip, rubbing his long finger along your slit and you moan, not registering what he says next. "This is just the beginning, princess."

He buries his head in your neck, lips scattering kitten like kisses on your skin and trailing further down your collarbones. The yearning was taking you to a different level of desperate, his ravenous touches were working so well to rile you up and you were so sure you could come undone with only his middle finger thrusting into your cunt. In your hazy mind you were lost, closing your eyes, you throw your head back against the door and try to breathe normally—because his sleek finger was stroking your slit vigorously.

This was maddening. And you weren't holding back. "Fuck, Yunho...just fuck me already. Please."

You whimper as the walls of your cunt clench around nothing in utter torment while his middle finger only caressed your slit and nothing else.

"No, princess. Nuh-uh," he hisses, now pressing his thumb on your clit and moving it in a circular motion. "Not so fast. You won't be getting anything more than this—fuck—fuck—" he grunts in his own anguish, "—a dirty slut like you should be punished for wanting everyone's attention on you. Isn't that—fuck, isn't that why you took your top off, hmm? For everyone to fucking take a look, for them to drool on your perky little tits."

You whine, stuttering, "no—no—I only—I only did it because—because those were the rules—fuck, Yunho...just, please—please..."

Mind fogging with unlikely possibilities of him actually giving it to you, made your tongue heavy. You couldn't form sentences in your head, let alone voice them for yourself.

"So, so, so hopeless."

Yunho clicks his tongue, using his other hand to lift the loosely hanging tee up to your chest; his hand quickly cups one of your tits and eventually, he's groping it with his fingers digging in your flesh. His mouth sucks beautiful bruises along your neck, while his finger and thumb keep working on your wet cunt.

"God, I caught Jongho and Mingi staring at these taut little things," he murmurs, licking your skin as he keeps sucking purple bruises, "and I gotta say, I wasn't too fond of it—fond of their eyes lurking anywhere near you. Just thinking about it—ugh—can't even get myself to think about it."

"I didn't—" you groan, "—I didn't think you'd be the jealous type—fuck!"

All air is knocked out of your lungs as soon as he lets his middle finger slip into your cunt; your walls squelch, causing more of your juices to drip down your thighs.

"Oh, you really don't know me yet," he slyly whispers, keeping the pace of his finger teasingly slow inside you.

Detaching his lips from your neck, he stares down at you with a lilting smirk, one ever so gravely etched in a nettlesome curve. His hazel eyes show a spark of ardour, seemingly growing into a soft murmur of feral desires. You crack your eyes open, fluttering your lids heavily as the pleasure of his finger drives you to your edge; you were getting weak in your knees—your body could go limp any moment if he continues to tease your cunt this slow. Sliding your hands down his neck, you hold onto his shoulders and heave out a breath, chaotic and painful.

"Would you like to know me better, princess?" he breathes his words out, sneering as he glances down at his finger thrusting in and out of you. "...I'm sure we'd get along just fine."

"I don't doubt that either," you smirk at him, impatiently waiting for him to add another finger in you.

When you knew, he wasn't going to do anything more than finger your cunt teasingly, you start bucking your hips into his hands, hoping it'd make his finger plunge deep into you. The squelch of your walls is loud this time, resonating in the empty room as it soon merges with his chuckle. Yunho draws in an amusing breath, tittering at your messed up persona, and desperation.

He clicks his tongue, bringing his finger out of you altogether; the emptiness was lot worse than having only one of his sleek finger in. Maybe, you shouldn't have been so desperate for him. You couldn't blame yourself; it was evident from that night itself that you yearned for him, all of him. Keeping his stare on you, he brings his finger, the one which was plunging deep into your cunt, close to his mouth and darts his tongue out. His middle finger glistens with your juices around it, so unbelievably fucking attractive but nothing prepared you for what he did next; he licked and lapped his tongue all over his finger, humming in satisfaction as he tastes you.

"Sweet and salty, just like my little slut," he smirks, teeth trapping his bottom lip in, "can't wait to fuck that cunt with my tongue—it'd be fucking perfect."

You don't make a sound, simply because his words were giving you a sensory whiplash and depriving you from any fraction of sanity at all. He lets his other hand slip from your chest, tracing it to your neck to grab your throat. His fingers dug in the sides, leaving faint bruises as he brought you close to him; in a blink of an eye, his lips were back on yours, tasting your desperation and teasing your lower lip with a sharp tug of his teeth.

"Yun..." you murmur against his lips, absorbing the vibrations of his chuckle as he pulls back to address, "princess, you are not getting me so easily. I can play hard to get, and I always have."

You are a little annoyed by his attitude, his conceited slapdash personality was an antithetical factor to his charisma and chivalry. He shakes his head, in disbelief, as if he had read your mind when you were thinking about his pomposity.

Clicking his tongue, he pecks your lips, "no, princess, I'm not conceited. I'm just...returning the favour."

You're muddled, not comprehending what he was hinting at. And considering that, he slightly rolls his eyes, while his other hand ghosts over your lower abdomen and grabs the waistband of your panties. Not giving you any sign of his intentions, he uses his mere strength to pull the panties up your waist. The material of your lacy panty chafes with your wet folds as he pulls and continues to do so until you're writhing with tickles on your spine.

"Fuck—that feels good, but—I want you." you mewl in such ache, craving everything of him, "I need you."

"Like, I said, I'm returning the favour, princess," he softly lets out a laugh, stroking his thumb along your windpipe, "consider this a bestowal of all the pleasure you can get from me. Because..."

His teasing tone is back, infuriating you—tears well in the corner of your eyes, threatening to spill as you whimper, "because...?"

"Because I can't let a slut like you get what she wants by deftly ribbing me in front of my flatmates," he states, his hold on your throat tightening, while he pulls your panties further up.

The overbearing sensation of your panties rolling up and slotting into your wet slit makes your skin crawl in pleasure. It was unbearable at this point, the rigorous friction of the material and your soaked cunt.

"I need to teach my whore a lesson, don't I? And that's what she's going to get tonight. A punishment for provoking me in front of my flatmates and being an attention whore," he smiles haughtily, pulling himself back completely before stepping away from you.

His warmth was gone, so was his touch which drove you away into your insanity, and all you were left with was an abysmal hollowness full of chagrin and hankering. Taking another step back, he shrugs while you lean back against the door to recollect your shattered pieces—you were trying to relax yourself after all that he had done to make your pussy drip uncontrollably.

"My precious little princess should try to get some sleep for the night," he smiles, coming close to you again but only to caress your cheek with his thumb. "Trust me, princess, my package will be worth the wait."

"Good night, Angel."

He presses his lips lightly to your cheek and pushes you carefully to the side to leave the room. The moment he dashes out the room, you wait for his footsteps to quiet down the hallway before you're sliding down against the door and groaning out in frustration as you lay on the floor like a crumpled paper. This was too much! Too much! You do remember him mentioning he was a tease from your night of sexting, but you didn't believe him—not until he was teasing you to hell and back. You could consider this as borderline torture which in turn was making you wonder if his dick was really worth all this torment.

Although, as he left the room, you caught a glimpse of his cock straining against his jogger shorts—the outline was clear, and that clarity was enough to push you back in your delusions and fantasises. Regardless, it also meant how badly you had him riled too, you got him hard, got him to masturbate before he goes to bed—it was obvious he would jerk off to your thoughts, and that passing notion was undoubtedly making you even wetter. You heave out a sigh as you pick yourself up and carry your trembling body to the edge of the bed. Settling down comfortably with your legs open wide, you pull the hem of your shirt and trap it between your teeth. Exposed, and free from the shirt, you drag one of your hands down your chest, purposely pushing the cups of your bra aside to let your tits hang outside. Your mind rutted with lascivious thoughts of Yunho playing with your tits, cupping them, groping them, kneading them, all the things you wanted him to do, maybe a little more which would cause your dignity to falter in front of him.

You moan out loud, but it's muffled by the shirt in your mouth; you were senselessly pinching your nipple, all while tracing your other hand to your cunt. Pushing the panties (now ruined by your arousal) to a side, you ghost your fingers over your clit, gradually touching your swollen bud to feel the ecstasy take over you. Throwing your head back to the sensation, you let out a whimper; soon, the image of Yunho licking his middle finger flashes in your mind, making you moan again. You do what he was doing a minute prior, stroke the length of your own middle finger along your slit. Your mouth stays open this time instead, but your shirt doesn't roll all the way down because your hand, playing with your tits, obstructed it from doing so.

Somehow, in the darker light of your mind, you're fixated on that burning scenario of Yunho rubbing his tongue along his finger to rid it of your juices. At first, you wonder, and then glimmer in joy, nevertheless that fleeting moment is cut short when you realise an odd detail about him. If his middle finger was that long, then how huge would his cock be? That cascading thought itself makes you shiver, and you start rubbing yourself faster; not caring if the sounds you made were discernible and audible to the others in the apartment. Seemingly, your noises were growing louder, and you were getting closer to your edge. Dropping your hand from your chest to your side, you fist your hand into the sheets, and ease your finger into your cunt. Again, the wetness makes your walls squelch and your action makes a popping sound.

Keeping a steady pace at first, you thrust the upper part of your middle finger in, then gradually moving the entire finger inside. Once you were comfortable, you increase the pace of your thrusts and mutter out a sweet string of moans, incoherent and dumb. You close your eyes, screw them tight for tears to stream down the side of your face; you're driven to a point of lunacy where all you could think about was Yunho fucking you with his finger. However, one finger wasn't enough for that, so you add in another, your ring finger this time. Both of your fingers rhythmically slide in and out of your cunt, letting your flesh slop and your juices make a mess of them.

Your grip on the sheets tightens, enough for your knuckles to turn white. Your eyes are shut, reveling the pleasure your fingers gave you, while your chest heaved up and down uncomfortably, trying to fathom the suffocation brought by your eerily palpitating heart. Lost in your jolly world of fantasies, where all you could think of was Yunho, you don't hear a soft knock sounding on the door of your room. Although, the person standing on the other side of the door had heard your moans and groans clearly. Yep, this man had heard you, and knows you're masturbating, yet he gulps to himself and scours a little bit of courage to enter the room.

He twists the doorknob and pushes the door inside; second after second, the door cracks open and reveals bits of you, the bed, your legs wide open and your hand between them, to him. Drooling at the sight for what his momentary mind could capture, he clears his throat to snap you out of your daze. Your heart beats slow, adrenaline rushing through and through when you open your eyes to meet with the familiar man standing a step closer to the door.

"Seonghwa..." you gasp, quickly pulling your shirt down to cover to exposed legs, and everything in between them—you hold your hand out to a side, wet and glistening with your juices all over them.

He clears his throat yet again, "Angel, what—well, don't stop."

You're taken off guard by his silly eyes lurking on yours, his lips curling deliriously into a smirk; leaving you to fend for his words, he trudges to his desk and carries the chair to set it in front of you. In utter disbelief, you watch him sit on the chair, spreading his legs wider in front of you, giving you the glimpse of the gradually forming tent in his pants. He unbuttons a few buttons on the top of his shirt, pulling the collars apart to expose a little of his tanned and toned chest.

"Don't stop?" you gawk, slightly breathless.

"I'm sorry if my sudden intrusion made you halt your..." he pauses, eyes trailing down your face to your chest, and legs. "...I wouldn't mind if you were to put on a show for me. Maybe, we could help each other out later on."

You were stumbling in your own mind to regard his words, even if you were past the point of acting on your rationality, this proposition of his was beyond tempting. Unlikely, you'd then have to be embarrassed to have masturbated in front of him too—especially since you and Yunho had shared that sensual call the other night. Everything is a standpoint of your dilemma, whether you should give in to your impulses, and act on your desires or not. After all, contemplating and accepting the reality of your sybaritic situation would precisely put you in a rough place with Yunho if he were to ever find out about your and Seonghwa's deal.

"But..."

"But?" Seonghwa repeats, "there are no buts, sweetheart. Though, to sate my curiosity, I'd like to ask you something."

You nod your head, your cheeks warm and red, hazy from all that's happened in the span of mere minutes.

"What got you all worked up, or rather, who?" you purse your lips together, unable to answer him. And he continues taking your silence as the testimony. "Was it anyone amongst us, or all of us? I saw Yunho leave this room a while before I made my way here. Was it him?"

You nod again, and he chuckles, "guess, Hongjoong owes me fifty bucks now."

Taking offence, you narrow your eyes at him; he shakes his head and enunciates more clearly, "no one's betting on you, sweetheart. It's just...during the game, I saw a few sparks fly between you two. As it made Jongho a little envious, it gave me an insight to your dynamic with Yunho. Surprisingly, he was as cheerful as he was that night—I suppose it was the night he was talking to you, wasn't it? Anyway, me and Hongjoong, a few minutes prior now when Yunho disappeared from the living room, construed a harmless wager."

"Are you all alike?"

"Alike as in, similar to Yunho?" he shakes his head in amusement, "oh, darling. We're anything but alike to that brat."

You don't know what it was about him, maybe that simple of nudge of his head as he satirically insulted Yunho, or the lax foreboding smile which offered you a sight of his sharp canines. There was something about Seonghwa which was making you want him more now—more than Yunho, to be precise. Although, when the remnant of your rationality sticks to your mind, you knew the attraction was simply because you had been played with and left high and dry by Yunho. You were too desperate to feel something in between your legs, literally anything at all—and as demeaning and belittling that is, even to yourself, you couldn't help but weigh your judgment down to Seonghwa's side.

You put on a show for him, he enjoys it while jerking himself off, and later on you get what you wanted all along. Sounds simple. Right? Maybe.

As you're lost in your thoughts, the never-ending brooding of the current situation, Seonghwa turns weary and tilts his head to a side. He licks his lips and asks, presumably snapping you out of your reverie. "Angel, I don't want you doing anything that you're uncomfortable with."

At the shift of his personality, you pout, shaking your head to convey your words. "I'm not uncomfortable with...this. Only, I wonder what it would be like with us if we were to, you know."

Your shoulders flinch, and he sighs, crossing his legs and leaning back into the chair. He smiles softly, "the solution is as straightforward as it can be, Angel."

"I'm not looking for a relationship, however," you whisper, undermining your own words as you come to that conclusion. "If that is what you were about to suggest."

"Relationships aren't really my thing either," he replies, a sly smile on his face, "we keep this exclusive to sex. I'm assuming Yunho put forth a much similar bargain."

You nod, "he did. And I was anticipating he'd..." Seonghwa's brow cocks up in astonishment, "...I anticipated he'd let things get steamy between us tonight. It's the reason why he had been texting me, convincing me to come."

"So, you came here for his dick?" Seonghwa laughs, not in a debasing manner, it was more of an amused laugh. "I understand, but I've been thinking you only decided to come because you didn't want to hurt Jongho's feelings."

"You're not in the wrong," you sigh, "I wanted to be a better friend to him too, but all the while Yunho had been pestering me, teasing me with his semi-nudes...okay, why are we talking about this? Shouldn't we just get done with it as quickly as possible?" you realise you had spoken too much.

Seonghwa shrugs it off, "Angel, I said I wouldn't want you doing anything which would cause you discomfort."

"And I said I'm okay with it."

Smirking, you lift your shirt back up, showing off your completely drenched panties and your sheeny cunt. Tired of pushing your panties to the side, you decide to take them off and once you've rid yourself of them, you spread your legs for his perusal before dipping your hand in between them. You resume your actions, plunging your middle and ring finger into your cunt—to your unbridled desire, your fingers slip in too easily because of the number of times of you were aroused.

"Oh dear, Angel," Seonghwa grunts, palming his crotch through his pants.

You smirk at his utterance and glance up, glazing your eyes over him as his legs are back to being spread wide in front of you, while his hand is busy stroking his cock through his pants. He bites his lower lip, giving you an encouraging nod to increase your pace; throwing your head back, your jaw slacks open when you start thrusting your fingers deep in you. The walls of your cunt quell around your fingers—the feeling reels you back to your sense of salaciousness, forcing you to increase your pace. Seonghwa's groans soon fill in the room, blending in too perfectly with your moans as you continue to finger yourself.

Seonghwa, seemingly too tired of rubbing himself through his pants, unbuttons, unzips, and tugs them down to pull his fully hard cock out. You watch him wrap his hand along the tip at first, stroking it softly with his fingers as he gradually drags his hand down along the shaft. Precum glisters on the tip of his cock, and along the length of it; and the more he pumps his cock, the more of his arousal leaks from his tip. Trapping his bottom lip in the grasp of his teeth, he prevents any vile sounds to slip from his mouth. And wanting to do the same, you clasp your free hand over your mouth but fail to do so when your mind loses every inch of control. It doesn't work as it should, because your hand is sliding down to your chest, to play around with your taut nipples.

"You're so pretty, Hwa," the comment slides out of your mouth with such ease that you don't even realise you had said it. "You look so pretty like this, stroking your cock to me fingering myself."

Again, you didn't know where you got the confidence to speak.

He chuckles softly, which mixes with his grunt as he increases the pace of his hand around his cock. "My Angel dearest, I think the sight—the—the sight of my cock—my cock thrusting into that tight little cunt of your—yours, might be the prettiest—prettiest sight of all."

His stutter was absolutely driving you insane; not just the way he stumbled his with his words, but also the way he was pumping his cock vigorously to the thought of that. Holding his shirt up by his other hand, preventing it from getting ruined, he tightens his hand around his cock, keeping a steady pace.

"Then why don't we see it—"

Thud!

The door closes shut, startling both of you as you freeze in your places. You focus your attention to the door, but Seonghwa doesn't really bother to look behind; and from the way he smirked, it was evident to you that he knew who had just arrived. It wasn't a surprise to you either, because somewhere in your heart, you were waiting for him to come.

"Tch, what an alluring sight my eyes behold," Yunho clicks his tongue, rolling his eyes as he crosses his arms over his chest and steps ahead to stand behind Seonghwa. "Let's say, I'm not all too confounded with your behaviour, 'Hwa. But I certainly did not expect my princess to acquit herself from her punishment."

His condescending tone was back, and very much alluring; his way of degrading you never gets boring, it's always tipping you off to your extremity. Yunho steps past Seonghwa and stands right in front of you. His gaze penetrates through your ruse, causing you to shiver as you sit straighter and composed, a little stoic to his advances maybe. You're not so much tolerant when you drag your eyes down to his body, his buff chest at first, then his bulging arms folded on his chest, and lastly, you're spanning your eyes across his abdomen and crotch. His shorts are confining his boner, sadly so, the outline of his cock makes you drool and imagine of the sensation you'd get from him filling you up.

"Eyes up here, princess."

You whimper, "Yunho, I can explain."

"Shush," he presses his index finger on your lips and glances back at Seonghwa over his shoulder, "it turns out my precious princess can't control herself. Why don't we teach her a little discipline?"

Seonghwa smirks, as if he had caught up on Yunho's intentions already. "Only if she's okay with us ruining her."

"Oh, a whore like her would certainly enjoy herself being fucked by both of us, would she not?" he brings his hand down to your throat and squeezes it, grunting as he brings you close to his face, "right, princess? Want to be filled with both of our cocks, right? Be nothing but a cum-slut for both of us...hmm?"

You nod your head, murmuring, "yes, yes...I want to be filled—be filled with both of you...use me as your..."

"So, so, so hopeless," Yunho tuts in pity. "I think you should take the fron—"

"—I'm in no mood today, Yun," Seonghwa interrupts him, getting up from the chair with his pants pulled over, as he strides across to stand next to Yunho. His eyes darken, a wretched curl taking its shape on his lips. "But, I would like to see what this pretty mouth can do."

You groan in such desperation, feeling his thumb caress your lower lip till he's tugging it down for you to open your mouth a little wider.

"Don't expect much, Hwa," Yunho grumbles, pulling his red hoodie over his head and discarding it down on the floor. He wears nothing under it, though, and you start checking out his toned upper body with your blurry eyes. "This mouth knows nothing but to complain and whine. Maybe yap around a bit and haul foul words at others."

Seonghwa chuckles and holds your jaw instead, thumb pressing down on your chin to do what he had been trying to do; getting your mouth to open wide. And maybe he was trying to get your attention off of Yunho.

"I better not believe him, Angel. Show me what you can do."

"Hmm," your eyes are back on Seonghwa, "I can—"

He doesn't let you finish your words leans down to kiss you. A mere contact of your lips inflames your heart into a fiery pit of despair, and you're kissing him back with much intensity. Your lips lap, collide, and suck, while he's too busy trying to drag his tongue into your mouth. He does it soon, however. His tongue caresses your lips at first, then as your widely opened mouth lets him in, he's scraping his tongue across your teeth and tackling yours into a soft brawl. Your eyes flutter close to the sensation of his warm and rough tongue rubbing with yours, delving down deep in your throat as his hands are now cupping your face.

Meanwhile, Yunho is certainly bewildered to watch his friend suck your mouth off, at the same time, an uncurbed tremor of jealousy aches his heart. Yet, he watches the two of you, observes how Seonghwa's hands were caressing your cheeks, how his tongue was shoving itself down your throat. To a certain degree of envy, he gives in and clears his throat, eventually pulling at Seonghwa's collar to break you apart.

"Jealous much?" Seonghwa comments, which goes unacknowledged by Yunho who grunts at you, "I want you on all your fours. Now."

You gulp, struck with intimidation by his voice, and the ambiguous shade of grey in his eyes. Obliging to him, you slide back on the bed and get on your fours, facing the edge of the bed as you anticipated their next move. Yunho doesn't say anything and moves on about to situate himself behind you, meanwhile Seonghwa settles himself in front of you. You're in eye level with Seonghwa's cock, hard and leaking precum, it's tip laying flat against his stomach as he takes a minute to shrug his shirt off. His pants were already off when you were trying to get comfortable on your knees and hands on the bed.

The mattress dips to Yunho's weight behind you, giving you the obvious sign that he was upto something. To your apparent satisfaction, he pushed the hem of your shirt along your back to give him better access to your rear. The warmth of his hands caresses your buttcheeks, eventually dwindling down to your inner thighs as he pushes your legs further apart. He's mentally slobbering at the sight of your folds, all wet and glistening in their glory; his cock twitches at the thought of rubbing himself all over you before sliding into your warmth.

"So fucking wet already," Yunho grumbles, "probably doesn't even need me to prep this cunt before fucking it with my cock."

"Yun—fuck..."

You clench around nothing as you listen to him growl all those words under his breath. Seonghwa chortles, grabbing your jaw and guiding the tip of his cock to your mouth; he rubs it along your lips before he eases himself inside. Engulfed by your warmth, he groans softly and closes his eyes to relish the atypical sensation for first few seconds. He knows he'll get used to you in a little bit and so will you. You wrap your lips around him, as he continues to slide his cock in your mouth. Once he grows aware of how much him you can take in, he stops and entangles both of his hands in your hair instead, helping him to hold your head down.

"Hmmm," you moan around his cock, feeling the tip brush past your tongue and the walls of your throat. The saltiness from his precum is too evident on your tongue, but you swallow it down and focus on him.

"Fuck, sweetheart, you feel so good around me," Seonghwa's chest sounds a low gruff, glancing down at you through his half-lidded eyes. "You're doing so well, sweetheart. Hmm, I'll try to be gentle, okay?"

You nod, trying to pacify the sting at the corner of your lips from the way they were stretched around his cock. He doesn't push himself further than he already is and starts thrusting his cock into your throat. You merely gagged around the tip but held your breath. Seonghwa's lips remain parted, and his eyes remain shut, he was a moaning mess, subsiding to the warmth of your mouth rocking him in and out.

Yunho's jealousy knows no bounds, he's fuming inside as he watches Seonghwa fuck your mouth. Swiping the tip of his tongue over his upper lip, he smirks smugly and traces his fingers from your inner thighs to your folds, eventually to your slit. His fingers collect bits of your wetness before tucking them in your cunt; first it's the fingertips, gradually the entire length of his fingers are thrusting in and out of your cunt.

You're so out of it, buzzing with pleasure received on both sides. One, you weren't able to moan because of how deep Seonghwa was plunging his cock into your throat. Two, Yunho's fingers were curling in the deepest parts of your cunt, squelching around the flesh and making you squirm from time to time. Three, you knew Seonghwa's pace was picking itself up, but however you weren't sure if you'd be able to keep up with him.

Relentlessly, you fist your hands in the sheets underneath, holding onto them for your dear life because Seonghwa's hips were rutting into your face. Your mind was fogged by the way he rammed his cock in your throat, making you gag and choke while he guided you down by holding your head. His fingers were tangled in your hair, which eventually turns into a makeshift ponytail. You flatten your tongue toward the roof of your mouth, licking the underside of his shaft as he rapidly thrusted in and out.

"Dear sweet lord—fuck, Angel, don't stop—don't—don't stop doing that." He grumbles out, voiceless as he tries to catch a breath.

Tears are streaming down your face, as your nose scrunches up against his pubic bone and littlest of pubic hair, you're suffocating too, having lost the ability to breathe through your nose. Seonghwa's hips come to a halt, but doesn't really let you go—he likes the way your mouth is wrapped around him, likes the way your cheeks are hollowed and confined to his cock.

"You seem to be enjoying yourself, Hwa." Yunho pouts, "makes me regret to not have used her mouth before you..." his fingers are spreading you apart, stretching your walls to their limits. "Hmm, but doesn't matter anymore, I'll be the first to ruin this tight little thing."

With that being said, he flicks the direction of his wrist, bringing his fingers out only for a meagre second before he's thrusting them back in. He only did that to get his thumb in front, to toy with your clit as he presses down on it, eliciting a whine from you. Though, the vibrations of your whine are absorbed by Seonghwa's cock stuffed in your mouth, driving him wild. His thrusts resume, however, his pace picks up slowly but doesn't show any signs of faltering. Your jaw is slack and limp, already lethargic from taking him in.

"You're missing—you're missing out, Yun," Seonghwa's mumbles before bestowing his praises upon you, "you're doing so—doing so well, my dear. Such a good girl—good girl to take my cock—cock in without complaining. A little bit—little bit more..."

You have your eyes closed and mind shut down, the pleasure was unbearably long and everlasting till your body gave you enough strength to withstand their ministrations. At the way Yunho's fingers were moving in you, and brushing your sweet spot, you knew you wouldn't last long. The hot and vehement knot tightens itself in your stomach and wrenches your gut, preparing you for your climax. Your walls clench around Yunho's fingers, making him click his tongue as he pulls them out.

"Not so soon, princess." he sighs, quickly ridding himself of his shorts and briefs. "Not till you make a mess on my cock—fuck, this might—this might sting a bit."

He aligns the tip of his cock with you and rubs it along your slit before easing himself into your cunt bit by bit; your walls stretch to his girth, a tiny fire burning your skin as you whimper and wince. Although, Seonghwa's faltering thrusts try to distract you from the initial pain of Yunho's cock submerging into you—he is twitching in your mouth like crazy, knowing well he was close to his edge. You weren't so sure about your own orgasm, since you were already senseless to Yunho's cock plunging into you; and to your greater surprise, it was only the tip of his cock pounding into you. Yet he was driving you wild, his cock screwing itself so deep into you, and stretching you raw. Every time Yunho bucked his hips into yours, your body rolled into Seonghwa's, making your mouth slip further down on his cock and gag around your throat.

"Fuck, baby, gimme a min," Seonghwa mumbles and you nod slightly, causing him to pull out before you passed out of suffocation.

Taking a deep breath in through your mouth, you glance up at Seonghwa with teary eyes, finding sweat make his hair stick to his forehead and a few drops dribble down the sides of his head. You couldn't be too mesmerised by his beauty, because Yunho takes that time to ease himself fully into your cunt; his cock throbbing inside you, as his thrusts are fast paced and concise.

Seonghwa shares a look with Yunho before turning down to you, "take a deep breath, sweetheart..." he was breathless, yet he was able to pronounce each word with care and concern.

"Fuck, Yunho..." you mumbled under your breath, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as Yunho's hips ram into yours. "You're—you're too fast—fuck—feels good, feels really—really good."

"Such a good slut, taking me in raw and making herself feel good with my cock," Yunho grunts.

"Yun—"

You couldn't thread your words together let alone voice them, and even if you could, Seonghwa wouldn't let you because he's already nudging the tip of his cock against your lips. Opening your mouth, as you're now used to his size, you wrap your lips around him; he keeps his pace slow this time, letting the tip of his cock poke your cheek as his thrust aren't well timed or rhythmical. Although, he's close, so close. He tightens his fingers in your hair, tugging at your strands as he pushes your head down on his cock—the warmth of your throat tips him off, and he twitches insanely before coming undone in your throat. His load trickles down, making you forcefully swallow it, tasting mild undertones of sweetness followed by the saltiness of his cum; he rides his high out with a few placid thrusts, filling your mouth with his cum. He only pulls out when he's sure he's emptied himself entirely into your mouth and when he does, he sighs and smiles down at you with a dazed look in his eyes.

"You did a great job, sweetheart. Made me cum with only your mouth, such a good and obedient slut," he pats your head, stroking your hair with his one hand as other one wipes the trickling drops of his cum from your lips. "Hmm, good girl."

He leans in to kiss you, humming in satisfaction as he tastes himself on your lips—though, out of nowhere he darts his tongue inside your mouth swallows a bit of his own cum, alleviating your struggle to swallow it whole. Pulling back, he groans softly and pushes himself off the bed completely. He gets dressed in no time, sparing no particular attention to you or Yunho, who's too busy hurling his cock into you.

"Clean up after you're done, Yun." He says one last time before leaving the room, shutting the door behind him with a soft thud.

You're brought to your senses then; the tight grip of Yunho's hands on your thighs which certainly has left dark bruises on your skin, the way his thrusts were proper yet short to prolong your orgasm, and the way weakness had taken over your body. Without warning, your hands give in, and you land face first into the mattress; however, Yunho clicks his tongue and groans softly before establishing a good grip on the back of your neck, pressing a little harder he lets his hand trace to the back of your head instead and his fingers entwine with your hair. He pulls your body up by tugging harshly on your hair, making you yelp and let out a small whine in protest. Your back is flushed against his chest, his thighs are hitching into yours, and his hands are all over you. One of his hands grabs your throat, choking you, while the other slithers under your shirt to grope your tits. Cupping them under your shirt, as they're already hanging out from your bra, he pulls on the tauten nipples, pinches them and rolls them between his forefinger and thumb; you moan, your mouth agape at the wild sensation It brought to you.

"How does it feel now, princess?" he grumbles, and you throw your head back resting it on his shoulder, "too much—too much—wanna cum."

Yunho hums, "as expected from my slut."

You nod to him, unable to force out words from your mouth, or even form them in your head. His thrusts pick up again, his hand drops from your chest and traces down to your clit; fingers rub down motions on your swollen bud, and you realise how sensitive you had gotten. Needless to say, every time he rolls his hips into yours, his cock plunges deep, so deep it tickles your gut—the tip of his cock was simultaneously abusing your sweet spot, nudging hard against the pit of your stomach. Bringing his hand to your lower stomach, he presses down, and your walls convulse immensely around his cock; you could really feel him in abdomen, sending all sorts of shivers down your spine.

"Fuck, being so deep in you, it's driving me crazy," he grumbles, "you feel me, princess? Feel my cock pound you good, huh?"

Again, you nod, profusely melting under the heat and sweat of your bodies—you were long gone to comprehend sanity at this point. He buries his head in your neck and sucks purple bruises all over your skin; they're going to be super evident in the morning, and you're going to get questionable looks from the others in the loft. Not that you thought you could get away with this, you were so sure the others were able to hear you, and that thought itself drove you into your diverting state of mind. It made you even wetter to know that others could hear you get fucked by Seonghwa and Yunho.

"Fuck—princess, use your words." Yunho flattens his palm on your pussy and gives it a slap, jerking you out of your daze and making you mumble, dumbfounded. The crass impact of his hand makes you cry and put your mind on ease knowing how full you were from his cock. You sob softly, feeling the pleasure take over you, "yes—yes, please, wanna cum so badly—wanna make a mess on—mess on your cock."

Yunho, satisfied with your response, supports your body against his with his hands on either side of your waist now; he pulls out and rams his cock back into you, keeping a steady pace before picking it up. You're definitely going to be left sore tomorrow, maybe deprived of your ability to walk even. His cock was reaching deep into you, knowing this angle was better to fuck and abuse your sweet spot. It doesn't take him long to bring that familiar tightness back in the pit your stomach—it twists your guts thinking how close you really were to your climax. In the room, along with your moans, and his grunts, the sound of your skin slapping against his also reverberated; every time he thrusted in, his hips would be in touch with yours for a mere second before he'd go back to dive deeper into you.

"Right, this tight—tight cunt only needs my cock to make a mess, doesn't it?" Yunho grunts close to your ear, steadying himself with his thrusts.

His words tip you off and you squeal, "yes, fuck—Yunho—Yunho—I'm going to..."

"Go on, princess."

Offering you few more long and sharp thrusts, which causes your wall to squelch and clench; without your notice, that tightness is coming undone. You let go of all the confines and your orgasm washes over you. Ironically, you really do make a mess on his cock, as it still keeps plunging into you. The warmth of your cum drips down your inner thighs, coating Yunho's thighs as well when he bucks his hips into yours. A sly smirk curves on his face, as he smacks his lips to the warmth of your juices dripping over his cock, squirting a bit around because of his thrusts.

"Oh, my princess, such a good slut. A bit more...a bit more, I'm close too," Yunho grunts close to your war, sloppily sliding in and out of you.

He was close, remotely, he usually lasts longer than this, but considering how tight your walls were around him, he had no choice but to push himself to his edge. You feel him twitch inside you, and your walls clench tightly around him; his hold on your waist goes tight as he pushes you down on the mattress—the lowered angle gave him a leverage and he continued slamming his cock into you at an animalistic pace for as long as he could. It takes him a while to get to his point, and before you know, the warmth of his cum is filling you up to your brim and dribbling past your hole. He rides out his high with a few more short and brief thrusts, digging his nails into your flesh to leave back minuscule crescents and breathes heavily, before sliding out and falling limp against your body.

You heave out a sigh, relaxing your body back into his, as your chest rises and falls; it takes the two of you a moment before Yunho lays you down on the bed and then rests himself next to you. Tiredness evident in the ragged breathing of his, he doesn't try to speak anything unless he's composed himself, and so do you—you press your lips together and lay in silence till your mind clears out and the post-orgasm clarity sinks in. You stare at the spotless ceiling above, listening to Yunho's hushed attempts at abating his breathing.

After a few minutes of silence, Yunho is the first to disrupt the tranquility between you two. "That was intense, quite something I did not anticipate."

"As much as I hate to agree, but I hadn't sucked a cock in a while. I feel my jaw slack and loose." you murmur, reminiscing your past sexual encounters with others; knowing no blowjobs had ever been so hard as this one. "Feels like I've lost the capability to talk, my throat feels sore too."

Yunho chuckles, turning to his side and wraps his arms around your waist, pulling himself close to your body, "Seonghwa usually prefers throat-fucking more to penetrating. You should be glad he wasn't as rough as he used to be with his past lovers." he shrugs, resting his head on your shoulder and inhales your scent, which apparently was a concoction of sex, sweat, a bit of Seonghwa's scent on you, and his too. "Don't worry, I'll make you a cup of hot tea, you'll feel better."

"Well, I'm taking you up on that, mister," you titter, leaning to the side to put your head on his. Seemingly pondering, you wrung your thoughts and initiate, "hey, umm, do you think—I'm not sure, but would you be comfortable if I..."

Your words dither to a whisper and Yunho's sighs, second guessing your notions and interrupting you, "you want to be with both of us, right?"

"After this, I don't think I can regard him as a friend," you grumble, whining softly, "I mean, I sucked his dick. That's something friends don't do."

Yunho heaves out a small breath, peeking up at you through his lashes as his hair sticks to his forehead from all the sweat. "Angel, I think we should discuss this tomorrow. With a fresh mind and refueled bodies. My thinking adeptness has left my mind. To be fair, all I can think about is actually pretty pathetic and many more sordid things which include you. So, it's better if we call it a night and talk it out tomorrow, hmm?"

Sighing, you nod to his suggestion and reassure him with a blink of your eyes. "Fine, I'll leave it for tomorrow."

"Good girl," Yunho chirps, "now, let's get you cleaned. Inside out. I don't want you knocking at my door after nine months showing up with a cute little spawn of my devilry."

"Shut up, you."

The rest of the night was pretty tame; Yunho helped you clean, inside out as he promised. Seonghwa's bathroom was far too spacious than he had sold to you, there was a bathtub, a shower and a completely secluded section where the toilet was. While you were relaxing in the hot bath in the tub, prepared for you by Yunho, he took a quick shower and proceeded to change the sheets of the bed. Once you were well scrubbed and washed, he wiped you dry and slipped his hoodie over your body. He got dressed only in his shorts and the two of you then cuddled each other to sleep.

As the night dawned to a new morning, you kept thinking about the events of the night—the sinister impulses you had given into and the reverting cataclysmic effects to your dynamic with Yunho and Seonghwa. Though, Yunho did say they'd talk it out in the morning, but maybe you were worried for that morning to come. Regardless of your overthinking, the night passes you quick, your mind waking up from its slumber at the exact moment when the bright rays of sun cascaded in the room.

You open your eyes to a bright white light, squinting them to the golden glow of the sunshine; you murmur in a daze, a sleepy daze of yours as you urged yourself to go back to sleep. Groaning softly, you stretch your arms out and feel an empty void next to you. Yunho was no longer sleeping by your side. You pout and try to disregard the bitter feeling in your mouth. Gently and eagerly biting back sobs whenever your sore hips, thighs and back, inflicted pain upon your body, you get yourself off the bed and slip into the shorts which Seonghwa had offered you last night. The same ones you refused to wear since you were on tenterhooks for Yunho's cock. Stifling a yawn, you wash your face in the bathroom, pat it dry and make sure all your sleep is gone before heading out to the kitchen.

"There she is," you hear a muffled chirping from a familiar voice, "good morning, Angel."

"G'morning."

You rub the remaining sleep from your eyes and focus your blurry gaze onto the said man; you find Yunho sitting on the chair of the dining table, alongside Hongjoong, with Yeosang and Jongho sitting opposite to them, their back facing you. Meanwhile, you also heard faint sizzling of pan coming from the kitchen and only assumed someone was cooking breakfast for the others. Not having a clue about the time, you murmur incoherently under your breath and paddle your way across to the table.

Hongjoong offers you a small smile, as you settle down next to Jongho, "good morning, Angel. I hope you slept well, more than well perhaps."

You choke on your saliva, gazing up at him and then at Yunho. "Uh, yeah. I slept good."

"Only good?" Yunho pouts.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes at him; and look around instead, noticing Seonghwa was in the kitchen, flipping pancakes. The others were freshly showered, neatly dressed and sitting around the table with a plateful of breakfast in front of them. Jongho had a frown on his face every time he glanced at you, Hongjoong's eyes were rather beguiling and beaming at you with a few ulterior motives hidden in clear sight, and Yeosang barely acknowledged your presence as he was busy working on his laptop which he had propped in front of him instead of a plate.

Jongho, who's fidgeting with the sleeves of his university sweatshirt, flashes you a disdainful glance and looks back down at his plate of half-eaten pancakes. "Are you going to make it to any of your classes today?"

Ouch.

"What do you mean?" you act coy, squeezing your thighs together as you reel off into the memories of last night.

"Don't pretend to be a doll, Ange." he groans softly, training his eyes on you, "I know what happened last night, well everyone does."

Yunho adds, "she was loud enough for our neighbours to hear, I wouldn't be surprised if y'all heard her too."

"Not the time to boast, Yun," Hongjoong warns, shaking his head; you watch him smiling at you, smugly, sitting poised dressed in a grunge green suit and a black shirt under it. He fiddles with an emerald ring sitting on his thumb, raising his brow at you in sheer wonder. "It's better if we address this situation first, and later on, you can go back to your teasings and haughty nothings."

"What is there to address?" you gawk, blinking twice as your eyes remain wide and fixated on Hongjoong.

Seonghwa walks in with a plate of hot pancakes and places it in front of you before sitting next to Hongjoong. "Us." he mutters, motioning his index finger between you, him, and Yunho. "We need to confront what we feel and superimpose our feelings onto what we did last night."

"I mean..." you trail off, glancing at Yunho, "I was already considering Yunho's proposition to be exclusively friends with benefits. I'm not sure about..." you peek at Seonghwa.

"It's not just about them, for now," Jongho mutters, his cheeks turning a flimsy shade of red as he continues, "I like you, I've always had. Though, it's not a reason enough for me to be with you. I enjoy your company too and I wouldn't mind being a part of your..."

"Where are you going with this?" you mumble, bemused and lost in a whirlwind of confusion.

"What we're trying to put forth is a—umm, sort of a similar premise to Yunho's," Hongjoong initiates and Seonghwa adds to it, "we want you to be our precious little thing."

"We, as in all of us maybe," Yunho knocks his knuckles on the table to get Yeosang's attention, "Sangie, are you in or not?"

Yeosang looks up at him, nibbling on his lower lip as he nods, eyes quickly rummaging to check you out. "Sure."

"Basically, the ones who are sitting around here." Yunho continues, "we need someone who could help us out with our frustrations and oddly enough sexual desires. Only, that is, if you're comfortable being a part of it."

"I would need some time to think." You're beyond tempted to accept it, be their scarlet woman but you didn't want to come off as too eager to accept it.

"Take all the time you need, doll," Hongjoong assures you with a warming smile.

"After all, you're going to be our precious one."

Chapter Text

"So, have you thought about it?"

You bite your lip, obviously contemplating every word of his.

"You know, Jongho just asked me about it a couple of days ago." you stifle a groan and shake your head, "agreed you all are very eager to have me on board, but I'm going to need some time to think, right?"

You take a deep breath, listening to his deep voice murmuring, "and we don't mind how long you take to give us your ultimatum. Of course, I am aware of the kind of plight you're put through. So, don't sweat it and don't make a decision you would end up regretting, okay?"

The grin on your face widens when you let his words sink in; well, he was right. But there was something which was quite tedious to figure out.

"Can I ask you something, Yunho?"

Hearing him lowly hum against your ear, you resist every urge to stuff your hand in between your legs; you roll over your stomach and grab a pillow to hold it under your chest. Your lethargic body relaxes almost immediately when you feel the soft coziness of the pillow and silk sheets draped over your bed. The mattress sinks once again when you move, shifting on your back to stare at the bland ceiling before pushing your phone closer to your ear.

Your heart thumped in your chest, words itching to be said, somehow balancing off the tip of your tongue yet having no grit to let them out. This question, the supposed doubt you had in your mind was troubling you ever since Jongho dropped you off at your dorms the next day of your game night. It was a fiddling question, not too serious or brooding, yet you had your conscience tied in a knot over it. The after-bearing sentiments of your proposed 'bargain' had been irking you to your ultimate limits.

What if, keeping a sex exclusive relationship with the people you barely know, turns out to be the worst decision of your life?

Or, what if your feelings come into play with this superficial relationship?

It may seem crazy, but spending only a week with Yunho had already made you sublime; you could only dream of experiencing the better half of a relationship because Yunho was certainly the boyfriend material, the exact kind you had been craving for years. As truth would have it, and as it would sting your morales, you had couple of exes who were shitty and contemptibly obnoxious. So, now that you had a man who was ticking off every single wish on your list, the profuse quandaries were messy.

"Princess, did you fall asleep?" he teases you through the phone, his tone making you envisage him smirking.

You might as well—after a hectic day of chemistry lectures coming into a play for your lethargy and hebetude, you certainly didn't mind letting off some steam before falling sleep.

"No, I'm here. I'm just..." you trail off, "...I'm thinking of ways to voice my thoughts."

"Have I ever judged you? Even though for the past week you've told me some really disturbing shit," he laughs, and you retaliate, "and don't act as if you didn't enjoy as much as I did narrating it to you."

"I did. I did," his laughter wrings out to a sigh, "don't think too much, okay? Be openly honest with me, ask me what you want to."

"I don't want to ruin your grocery store trip," you let out a soft titter and could picture him rolling his eyes, "understandable, because grocery shopping is all rainbows and unicorns anyway."

"If you had me there with you, it would've been fun," you mumble, turning on your side to stare the dingy wall of your dorm room.

"If that was the case, we'd probably not even make it to the store." He adds, "and we do not want to piss Seonghwa off. He's not pretty when he gets mad."

You drawl on your lower lip and squeeze your thighs together, "it's hard to believe, but okay."

"Ask, Angel." His stern and commanding tone makes your heart palpitate faster in your chest, fluttering sparks in your pussy as you prepare yourself to question him, "okay, it's a simple question, so...why me?"

"Why you, as in why we asked you to be our fucktoy?" he muses and you groan softly yet again, rolling back on your stomach to hold the pillow tighter under your chest.

"Yes. Why me? Why not someone else—maybe Wooyoung's friend, or San's or you know, Mingi's even." You grit your teeth, nervously chomping on your cheek to rid your anxiety.

Yunho chuckles, heartily, very proudly so because he wasn't sure if he had heard you right or not. "Do you think those losers have any girlfriends, Angel?"

"Why not?" you let a smile fleet on your lips.

"Because Wooyoung is a manwhore, he's slept with entire female population in his department and if it isn't obvious, I'm not interested in someone who could be a prospect carrier for herpes," he titters still, "I'm not slut-shaming him, but—ah well fuck it! I am slut-shaming him. Not my fault, he is a pathetic excuse for a human because hit and run is his specialty. Now, you tell me why any of his casualties would agree to our demands, let alone would want to sleep with us?"

You shake your head, trapping your lower lip with your teeth. "I get it. So, am I supposed to feel special?"

"Hmm, I'd rather consider myself lucky to have a cum-slut like you." you squeeze your thighs again, remembering the two nights you had spent with him. "Hold on a moment, let me park my car first."

You hum, restless and exhausted; your day hadn't been decorous since the morning, and considering you had two consecutive chemistry sessions today, you were definitely drained of your frisky energy. Yet, there's something about Yunho and talking to him while he drives around the town to get to the grocery store; at this point you questioned your motives and abilities—why were you getting turned on by a man driving his car to the store?

Maybe because it was very much attractive in your mind. Him, driving a hatchback (probably, you hadn't seen what car he drives), wearing a dress shirt with its sleeves rolled up to his elbows, black shades on his eyes, the dainty rattling bracelets he usually adorns around his wrist—to conclude, the picture you were painting in your mind was the cause of your panties getting drenched.

Silence engulfs you, not necessarily, you could catch up on the soft shuffling sounds his clothes, or even his delicate grunts as he puts the car in park and gets out, slamming the door behind him. Although, there's a momentary hush when his phone gets disconnected from the car Bluetooth; he holds his phone close to his ear, while he straightens out a stray crease falling on his shirt near his waist.

"Angel?" he calls out, breaking your trance of staring at your study desk adjoining your bed, "you're still on line. Are you...?"

"I'm here, I did not fall asleep, though I think I might because of the very tiring day I've had." You pout, shifting on your bed to rest against the headboard, while you bring your legs to your chest.

Yunho chuckles, "ah my dear princess, I am coming over after I'm done with this tedious task. You're not gonna get much sleep then. I'd suggest you take a nap till I get done here."

"Oh." you bite your lips, glancing down at your chest. "Wake me up when you get here, and ah—p-s, I'm not wearing anything under my dress."

You hear him let out a breathy chortle, more like a scoff which taunts you into slipping your free hand to the hem of your silk dress. Coming back from the university, you were too exhausted to care about your outfit. You simply put on a coral shaded silk babydoll which barely covered your ass, with spaghetti straps and called it a day—of course, by also abandoning the underwear. So, you were practically naked under the flimsy silk dress, your breasts loose and hanging, your nipples taut from the friction and they really did poke through the material of your dress. Both of you are quiet for a minute, but then you're also deeply submerged in the thoughts of him coming to your dorm room and fucking you. An annoying chime of bell dings in the background, followed by a soft sound of mechanical doors sliding open—that brings you down to earth, and so does his grumbling voice.

"An open invitation for me to wreck you in any way I want?" he muses, tittering as he moves past the doors and grabs himself a cart. "Princess, you better know what you're getting yourself into. I won't be gentle."

His warning only makes you wetter, your hand slithering past the hem of your dress to trace your fingers on your wet and slick folds. Biting back a whimper when the warmth of your fingers melts around your skin, you take a deep breath and throw your head behind. You knew your breathing would sound wispy to him if you tried to speak but you couldn't control yourself from not uttering a word.

"Yun—you can do—ahh..." you stutter, pressing your fingers against your mound, just above your clit, "I'll be waiting."

"Is my princess touching herself to the thought of me fucking her raw again?" he slurs his words, merely in a whisper considering he was in public. You were deaf to the somber tunes playing in the mart, you were too busy controlling your raspy breath because your desires were flaming you out.

"Yes..."

Yunho lets out a laugh and shakes his head, muttering under his breath then, "can't wait to taste that tight little cunt of yours. Rest well, princess."

He's the one to hang up on you; rather than throwing an imaginary fit, your mind is filled with the images of his cock straining in his pants as he meanders through the aisles of the supermarket. You might be too over in your head, but the exhaustion was slowly crawling up your spine. In no time you find yourself slipping against the headboard and slumping yourself properly in the bed. And in the few passing minutes, your eyes close and you're drifting away into your dreamland.

Dreamland. An alternate universe where you were living your wildest fantasies—maybe a little too realistically. The resonating voice of Yunho and his words were dwelling on your mind. Your imagination was coming to life, nonetheless in your dream. Soon, you're breathing out whimpers of desperation, squeezing your thighs together and murmuring your moans; you never thought you'd be having wet dreams, but you weren't fazed by the unpredictability. The tingling sensation in your pussy only grows when you envision Yunho with his head buried in between your legs, licking and lapping his tongue in your slit, over and over again.

A harsh tug at your lungs makes you breathe deeply, eyes squinting to the imaginary pleasure you were experiencing—with your brows scrunched together, you knew you were pooling in your lingerie. Though, in your dreams, Yunho doesn't stop, and it feels too real to not react to it; however, in the dark corner of your mind, you feel another presence.

Jongho.

The grinning man stands behind Yunho, arms folded over his chest, lips quivering with his eyes fixated on Yunho. Him watching Yunho eat you out was a turn on you didn't think you'd have. But there he was, with his twinkling gaze not once wavering off of you two. Why was it so hot? Why...? Out of the blue, a knot tied itself in your stomach and your guts loosen; the urge to just let go crosses your hazy mind but you try to hold it in. Until it gets too hard to bear and you're jerked out of your sleep.

You don't know how long it has been but when your eyes crack open, you're in direct contact with your open window and furling curtains. The space holds a beguiling view of the evening merging with the night, dark at the seams and bright in the middle. Purple and orange hues mixing together to a crisp shade of the fore-night; you're immersed in admiring the sky, too much to realize you had been holding yourself in. Though when the dire need starts tickling your stomach again, you rush out of your bed and head to the bathroom to relieve yourself.

Once your conscious clears out, you notice several things which have been cluttering your mind. One, you had a wet dream about Yunho and Jongho, two people you never thought you'd ever dream of. Two, as you're staring at your reflection in the mirror, you discern a wet patch on your dress, right near your lap; the dress must've been wedged in between your thighs when you were having that sensual dream. Three, you are really horny. Really really horny. Which sort of reminds you of yours and Yunho's conversation before you dozed off to sleep.

Biting your lip, you get out of the bathroom and dump yourself on the edge of the bed. Your eyes glance over at your desk to read the time on your alarm clock. 5:56 pm, it read, almost 6:00 pm you thought and heaved out a sigh. You run a hand through your hair and stroke out the tangles with your fingers. Searching for your phone, you find it near your pillow and grab it in a haste. When you watch the screen blare with the notifications, your breath hitches in your throat and then delves deeper down in your stomach.

Ten missed calls from your mom.

"Fuck," you curse under your breath and dial her number.

The ring resonates in your ear, infuriating and anxiety striking; yet you listen to it till it echoes out into the obnoxious droid voice telling you the 'number you've dialed is unavailable. Please try again'. You huff and call again but are met with the same outcome as before and it continues on for the next ten attempts you make to call her. Giving up at what you could remember as your twelfth try, you throw your phone aside and let the anxiety eat you out. How ironic was that, in your dreams it was Yunho, and in reality, it's your own mom.

You were certainly restless, weaving all these uncertain notions about your mom—your father too, but since you and your dad didn't really share much of an intimate bond, you weren't surprised to receive no calls from him. Soon, the anxiety reaches your gut, you're quivering with fear and second thoughts; what if it had been an emergency? What if your mom had something really important to say to you? What if you—what if you were too late to call her back? Everything was eventually gone in the blink of an eye.

Knock! Knock!

Two knocks sound on your door, and you flinch; even though you knew who was at your door, you couldn't shake off your perturbation regarding your family. It was true, you had stood up for yourself when your parents were against you pursuing your higher education in a different state but now all those moments were disappearing into a heap of worries. Did you even make the right decision of coming here? Given, you had scholarship and exempted tuition fee, was your decision to come here really ethical from all other perspectives?

Troubled, you drag your feet to answer the door. A trifling gasp is caught in your throat when instantly you're pushed against the door by someone's burly arms, closing the door in process. You were quite used to Yunho's scent, knowing he always carried around a delicate whiff of amber and peonies. The addicting scent rakes your senses to its fullest when his lips capture yours in a searing kiss. His lips move with yours, one arm around your waist tightly wound to keep you in place while his other hand cups a side of your face. Delighted, but mostly razed by his touches, a frail smile sculpts your lips, and you slide your arms all over his back to hold onto his shoulders.

The worries plaguing your mind soon melt away into the heat of your kiss; you're leaning in for more, diving headfirst into this beautiful mess when you know he's only going to tease you and not give in so easily. You're left whining when he bites down on your lower lip and tugs on it. Watching your lips wobble with a smirk on his plump ones, he chuckles softly and shakes his head. He grabs your jaw and pushes his fingers deep into your cheek for your mouth to open wide.

"Hey, Angel," one of his eyebrow twitches on his forehead when he calls out your name with a smirk. "You asked why you, right? I'll tell you why..."

He buries his head in the crook of your neck and sucks at a random spot on the juncture between your jaw and head. Warm tongue rubs your skin, before his teeth sink in and his lips suckle. You groan at the sensation, your mind numbing to any anxiety you felt before. His hand drops from your waist skims over the hem of your babydoll before diving under to trace it along your inner thigh; his fingertips graze against your wet folds before rubbing you down gently.

You prevent yourself from moaning out loud when his finger moves in and out of your slit at a slow pace. Holding your jaw tightly, he nudges your head back into the door.

"This—this fucking thing you have going," he mumbles against your neck, "I don't care about others and why they want you, but for me it's this—the way you're attuned with my body. And also, how fucking addicting you are to me."

You swallow thickly and throw your head further back against the door, banging yourself but you weren't bothered in the least. Hearing soft crinkles of a polythene bag, you peek at him through your half-lidded eyes; lustful gaze rummages around till your vision fills with the sight of him remaining buried in your neck, sucking deep purple bruises on your skin. The carnal darkness in your room is scattered when the lurid rays of moon wash over your invader. You notice him wearing a long coat over his outfit, you carefully listen to every crinkle of his dainty silver bracelets, and you're definitely lost in the appreciation of his teeth creating blotches on your skin.

"This thing started with us," he adds, a little breathless, "as much as I am willing to share you with my piddling flatmates, I can't pretend to be I'm okay with our arrangement. I'll be jealous, I'll be possessive. At certain times you might even see a side of me you probably won't find too adorable."

"I like it when you get jealous, though," you slur your words, smirking at him diligently. "I'm not sure what it is, but you rather have what belongs to you in your own ruthless ways."

Yunho coughs out a tiny chortle before stepping back and shaking his head; you stumble on your weak feet, watching him shrug off his long coat before flinging it over on the seat of the chair in front of your desk. Sighing dejected, as the anxiety once again starts bubbling under your skin, you make yourself comfortable on the edge of your bed. You kept your eyes on him as he loosens first few buttons of his pastel blue shirt—his bracelets keep chiming in time to time, with every movement of his hands. Just as you pictured him to be dressed; he wore a blue dress shirt adorning thin vertical white stripes and paired it with black trousers and boots. The faded blue hair of his was complementing the look, alongside the bits of silver jewelry he wore. He takes a step close to you and leans over to get to your face level; he slips a polythene bag in your lap and when you inspect into it, there are two plastic containers of peaches and strawberries. Did he get those for you? How thoughtful. He clears his throat, lips ghosting over yours as his arms plant themselves on either side of your thighs, trapping you against the bed this time.

"The first time I saw you at the bookstore, all lost and bemused, like a deer in headlights—I wanted to ruin your innocence so fucking badly," he murmurs, his hot breath fanning your cheeks, "if only had you taken a peek in my head that day. It's a bit exhilarating, isn't it? —" he nudges you with a subtle nod of his head, his hands tracing along the length of your arms, "—how you had to be Jongho's friend. How you were dragged into this mess."

For the purpose of your sanity, your fingertips grasp onto the plastic containers, tightly so because the proximity between your faces kept on dithering to nothing. Running his hands back and forth along your arms, he trails one up to hold you in place by your neck; you gasp the sensation of his fingers tightening around your throat, sinking into your skin, suffocating you.

He presses his lips against yours in a mere touch to whisper, "maybe it's some sort of fate's blueprint or whatever. I don't really care what it is..." he hums out low and drags his words in a gentle mumble, "but I know there's a spark between us, between our bodies to be so profoundly in sync with each other."

Stifling a moan, you mutter against his lips, "are you done with this banal folly? If you are, then just shut up and fuck me."

He raises an eyebrow at you, a small smirk then fleeting on his lips. "Your wish is my command, princess."

"What...?"

You muse to yourself when he pulls away and takes a step back, he eyes you with a lustful twinkle in his eye and strides towards to the full length mirror you had accommodated beside your study desk for the time being. Your dorm wasn't much, to be honest. It was spacious, yes; a bed to a side, a study desk adjacent to it and other trivial things you had lying around, including a closet to the right side of the door, a mini fridge situated next to it, and to the left side of the door was the bathroom. Single room dormitories were expensive compared to the shared ones, but you didn't like the idea of having a roommate or two even.

"Was this the same mirror you used to send me that picture?" he questions, observing it closely.

"Yeah, what about it?" you place the plastic bag to your side and bite your lip, considering.

"Hmm," he purrs softly and picks the mirror up to place it right in front of you. "Let's set it here, shall we."

"What's on your mind, Yunho?" you whine softly, turning it into a chuckle when he prepares to get down on his knees before you. "Really...?"

As exasperated as your voice is, you can't hide your anticipation of your body when he slides himself closer to you. His hands on your thighs, sear a burn on your skin when he grips your flesh. Thumbs rub circles, till they're pressing down and sinking in; he pushes your legs apart, and you let him do as he pleases. One of his hands is already skimming across your thigh to the hem of your dress, pushing it up till it rolls around your chest. He holds it there, exposing your glistening cunt for his eyes to feast on.

"I said I'd be pining to taste you," he mutters in a breath, and gazes up at you, "so here I am. Unlike others, I deliver what I say, princess. And I've been craving a taste of you for quite a while now—since the day I saw you. But with the mirror in front, you can see it for yourself, the kind of mewling mess you become for my tongue."

He shrugs and pouts, tightening his hand which rested on your thigh, while he prompts you with a nod of his head to hold your dress up. You do as said, letting your trembling fingers clip on the hem of your dress to hold it up. Perusing your glistening cunt with his lust-filled eyes, his lips curl into a sly smirk. He slots himself closer to you, tracing his delicate lips down your abdomen, fluttering kisses which tickle your spine and your spark your cunt. Watching his reflection in the mirror was already fucking you up; but watching his reflection when his head is buried deep in between your legs was certainly savage.

"And what are those fruits for? You were going to treat yourself, weren't you?" you mumble softly under your breath.

Dropping one hand to stroke his hair away from his forehead, you tangle your fingers in his luscious locks while trying to clasp your lower lip to bite back on any possible moans you might voice. His kisses trace up your stomach, up till he's giving your skin short kitten licks under your breasts. Your fingers pinch his hair, other hand struggling to hold your dress up—his thumbs help you soothe by rubbing circles on your thighs, engulfing you in a trance of comfort and ease.

"Of course, I'm treating myself," he mumbles under his breath, skimming his wet tongue down your abdomen to your stomach again. "Strawberries just taste better, you know."

Scoffing out in bewilderment, he presses a deep kiss just over your belly button and drags his lips slowly down, purposely teasing and nicking his teeth at your skin. You tilt your head back, your lips carved in a sleazy smile when the sensation of his soft lips flutter further down; your fingers tighten their hold on his faded blue locks, while other let's go of your dress. The silky material of your babydoll slips over his head, but he does not seem bothered as he continues littering soft kisses down your belly button.

And then, a moan hitches in your throat, anticipating. You're urged to squeeze your thighs together; only because his hot breaths were caressing your mound. His thumbs carried on rubbing circles in your flesh, soothing you bit by bit. In a way, his placid ministrations were helping you to keep your legs spread from him.

"Hmm, fuck," you gasp, voiceless, under your breath, screwing your eyes shut to the feeling of his soft lips pressing insanely close against your clit.

But you're left high when he pulls back, angling his head up to look at you; he wasn't fond of your dress slipping down your chest and waist, he didn't like it when your skin was covered. If you had the body to flaunt it, then why would you or anyone else want it covered? That was his logic, according to what you could stipulate from the week you had spent with him. Phrases and words like that made you an absolute puddle for him, you'd melt into a cold and sybaritic plash for him—all because you knew he would worship your body like the goddess you are, whenever he had the chance to. He has a chance now; he wasn't going to let it slip.

"You really like to tease me, don't you?" you squeak, listening to some shuffles of his clothes while your eyes peel open. "Now, what?"

"Getting rid of your lingerie," he grunts, huffing out a stubborn breath while lifting your babydoll over your head. Groping a handful of your tits, he buries his face in the valley of your chest and showers your skin with a few kisses. "I'd rather prefer you wearing nothing when you're around me. Can't get enough of this body, can't get enough..." he pauses, mulling over as his fingers dig into your fleshy tit, "...fuck, I'm all out of words to describe what this body means to me. Not just a fucktoy, no. Not at all. This body...hmm, this body should be displayed in a museum for being so fucking perfect. You're perfect for me, princess. Don't think otherwise, or else..."

Or else? You wondered. Not as much as exalting yourself in the way he was slurring his words, rambling even to get his point across. His teeth scratch your skin, his fingers now rolling your taut nipple; his other hand has been on your thigh all along, stroking circles to keep you levelheaded. You whimper at the sensation of his calloused hand kneading and groping one of your tits, while the other wasn't getting the attention it deserved. Turning your whimper into a whine, you look down at him, surprised to find him staring at you with the loudest smirk he could possibly scour.

"Aww, is my princess needy?" he tugs his lower lip out, brows scrunching down at the corners to feign his discretion. "My needy princess will get everything," he mutters against your skin, and leaves behind open mouth kisses when he gets to your other tit. "Hmmfyou—pfneeded—fthis?"

It drives you crazy how he was being muffled by your tit in his mouth; you glance down, biting your lip to avoid yourself from getting too aroused by the sight beneath. Oh lord, were you wrong. His lips had encased themselves around your flesh, tongue lapping and licking at your hardened peck; though, you could not resist being tempted by his doe eyes staring up at you with such nativity in them. His other hand squeezes your other tit, keeps it going till you're blabbering his name in wispy voice.

"Yunho...please," you shudder to the stimulation of your chest.

He hums around your tit, teeth slowly sinking in and biting lightly, his tongue was at it too, slicking it in his spit and unprecedented licks. Muttering a string of incoherent curses to yourself, you let your hand slip from his hair to the back of his neck, gripping tight. His moan gets muffled around your tit, sending spine-tingling vibrations to your cunt. You needed him, now. There was no way you could handle him playing with your chest like this.

He pulls his mouth back, reverberating a 'pop' sound on purpose as he does. "When I first saw you at the bookstore, I imagined you tasted like strawberries or peaches. So..." he blindly reaches out for the plastic containers of fruit he brought with him, while his other remains on your tit, caressing and pinching. "...coming across these at the grocery store was a good trip to the memory lane. I was reminded and I thought why not?"

"Let me devour you, princess."

You don't know what it was, but it was enough to make you leak. And in that while, you couldn't figure out how he got one of the strawberries out of the box you had placed to the side on bed before, and already had it in his mouth. The leaves were off the strawberry, conveniently—as he bites on it, the faint crimson juices slop past his lips and further down on his chin. You wanted to lick him clean. Maybe it was a silent yet coherent thought beeping in your mind, and maybe he had just read your mind. He slithers his hand along your arm and grabs the back of your neck, pulling you down, he lets his lips collide with yours.

Sweet. The redolent taste of strawberries fills up your mouth, eventually, a few bits of it when he forces his tongue in your mouth. There you are, frenching him while he shoves down the broken and mushy pieces of strawberries down your throat. Now, both of your chins are sticky and stained from the juices, though for you, a stray drop trickles past and falls perfectly in between your tits.

A spark goes off in Yunho's mind when he feels the coldness of the drop dribbling over his hand which still played with your tit. You trace both of your hands to his shoulder and grip them tight, crinkling and creasing his shirt haphazardly—well, as if you cared. He breaks the kiss and takes a deep breath in, while you're still breathless at how hard his tongue was shoving itself down your throat. A few pieces of strawberry are stuck in the gaps of your cheeks, and you swallow them down as you stare at him.

Picking out another strawberry, Yunho smirks slightly as he brings it to your mouth and prompts you to take a small bite out of it before he engulfs it whole. Again, the juices fill up his mouth, cumulative drops collecting themselves by the edge of his lips—but then don't spill, not until he buries his head back into your chest. A few drops roll down on your skin, his kisses soon turning into open mouth suckles. Pale stains of crimson trail with his mouth as he takes one of your tits in; it was the other one this time. His mouth wraps perfectly around your flesh, sucking and squeezing your tit with his lips and teeth. One of his hands snakes around your waist to rest on the small of your back, while the other cups a side of your face.

"This is awfully freaky," you mumble, dragging one of your hands to play with his hair falling on his nape. "But I like it freaky, you make it seem—ah," you gasp when you feel him give your nipple a gentle tug with his teeth, "—ah fuck, that feels good. So, fucking good..."

Your chest heaves up and down in his face, too bothered by him and his innocent eyes gazing up at you. The warmth of his mouth and the vague gelidity of the strawberry juices dissipates when he detaches himself from your chest; his smirk grows in his cheek, perusing the piece of art he had left behind on your chest. The sticky red strawberry pulp had adhered to your skin quite magnificently and he couldn't be prouder.

"This is just the tip of the iceberg," he winks, swallowing the remnants of fruit in his mouth. "I can get freakier."

Confidence in his eyes strikes you in the best way possible; you for sure know your cunt had drenched your bedsheets by now, all slick with the arousal his mouth was causing.

"Then get freakier, I need more from you."

In the erratic moment of time, he grabs another strawberry from the containers and props it right over your mound. The frigidity of the fruit was searing against your skin, that is only until he had fisted his hand around it and squeezed the life out of it—the pulp and juices trickled down, slotting itself perfectly in your folds and slit.

"Ah, fuck—you fucking bastard," you half-moan-half-chuckle, but it soon turns to an astonished gasp when his hot breath casts itself on your cunt before his wet tongue licks up your slit. "You—fuck—you fucking—you fucking freak!" you succumb to breathlessness and close your eyes tight; clutching his nape with both of your hands, you held onto him for your dear life.

He chortles against your slick folds and delves further down; the tip of his nose nudges with your clit at first, and then slides along your slit. How fucking good did that feel? You moan, your chest ripping itself apart when you do. It was unlike anything you had felt, especially considering pleasures received through oral stimulation. Yunho knew what he was doing, and he was doing it really well. His tongue licks up a stripe, lips sucking around your clit for a hot second before he drags them down to repeat the long and hard licks. You were squirming with a want, the oh-so sweet want of release.

Yunho's hands grip your inner thighs, his thumbs nudge and spread your cunt apart for the remaining pulp and juice of strawberry to roll down in between your folds. He leans in close and picks out the granules with his teeth, biting down softly as he does. It sends tremors under your skin, forces a saccade series of moans and groans out of you while your eyes squint tighter to let out tears. The pleasure was immeasurable, wooing you off into a faraway land of orgasm and joy.

You were delighted, so delighted to find your stomach knotting itself without having to be stimulated with penetration. He continues to lick and suck on your folds, gradually giving your clit some attention with his tongue while his hands groped your thighs and fingers dug in; they were leaving bruises tomorrow, but you were looking forward to it. Those handprints of his, they were going to be something you'd love to show off to your friends or someone.

"Fuck, Yunho. Your mouth—" you take a breath in through your mouth, "—it feels like I'm in paradise."

When your eyes open you see stars twinkling in the corner, your sight was full of them eventually—that is, as he carried on with his ruthless licks and flicks to your clit. The knot was intensifying, if anything, you really were on the verge of letting yourself go and watching you cum all over his face. Your face twitches and you're about...

Ring! Ring! Ring!

The high you once sought to, was now a deliberate low laying fruit; the knot disappears as the blaring sound of your phone's ringtone grows louder. You click your tongue, and blindly swat your hand on the bed next to you to find your phone. As you would recall, you did fling it somewhere when you went to answer the door. However, Yunho wasn't bothered by the deafening rings percolating in the room, he continues. A man on a mission. You mentally groan at that thought and sigh heavily when you find your phone in your hand. Checking the caller ID, you couldn't help but swipe the screen to answer the call.

Mom's calling you. She's calling you back. You needed answers, something to appease you about the ordeal where she felt the need to call you ten times.

Pressing the phone close to your ear and while gasping for air, you mumble, "he-hey mom."

"Oh, hey Angel—wait, did I get you at the wrong time?" you shake your head, trapping your moans in your mouth, "uh-huh, I was worried—I was worried about you and da—and dad. Giving me ten misse—ten missed—fuck."

All breath is knocked out of your lungs when you feel Yunho's tongue slither along your slit and his spit cover you up in its warmth; you're left to drawl on the remaining air in your lungs, specifically when he places his hand on your lower abdomen and forces you to lean behind into the mattress. Your back arches, your hips lift off the edge slightly for him to fix himself better between your legs. The angle your body now holds, gives him the perfect view of your hole. You squirm, wiggling your ass and bucking your hips into his face to get that much needed contact you had been craving for so long.

"Keep it hush, princess," he whispers, glaring up at you, "and watch your mouth when you're talking to your mother, hmm?"

You slightly glance down, hand trembling to hold the phone close to your ear—his face was breathtaking, glistening with your juices and the saccharine scent of the strawberry mixing in with your musk. The tip of his nose goes back to being buried in your slit, while his tongue rolls on your clit till it trails down to your hole.

Knowing where this was headed, you clutch the sheets under you and press your lips together. You so hoped your mom wasn't getting any ideas in her head about why your words were slurred or whimpered.

"Angie, I can call some other time," she murmurs from the other line, reminding you that you were still on call with her.

"Mom, just—just tell me—fuuc—hmmm," you cry out in pleasure when his tongue thrusts into your cunt. "I'm good—I'm good, you had me—hmmm—you had me worried—it's—"

"Yeah, I'm sorry, darling," she interrupts you, her tone soft and gentle. "The thing is, your dad..." she sighs and continues, "...in the last quarter of your dad's business—we're going under, Angel."

She comes straight to the point and bemused you; but your mind is occupied with Yunho's tongue shoving in and out of your cunt, slurping your juices, squelching your fleshy folds, and pressing the tip of his nose against your slick slit. You were done for better this time. The familiar knot ties itself in your stomach again. This time, your body rather hoped you'd get to come undone and release your tension all over his face. But, Yunho had some different ideas in his mind.

Hearing a bit of static from the other side, your mom continues, "you're understanding the weight of this situation, right? It brings me no peace to tell you that," she pauses and you hum, sinking your teeth further down in your lower lip as Yunho's tongue carries on with the abuse, "we can't support your accommodation, Angel. The tuition is already paid for, which we have no concern about since you're on your scholarship—but your dormitory fees, they'll be—you'll have to pay them yourself. Maybe, get a job? Or look for a new residence, where you have to share your rent?"

Her words were going over your head, regardless you were able to catch up on few phrases which sounded important and held grave promise to them. 'Look for a new residence.' Okay. 'Get a job?' Surely something you weren't looking forward to. But 'sharing a house with strangers?' A big no-no.

Though, all you could do was nod along and release your lip from your teeth to mumble, "sure—sure, fine. I'll—mom, I'll call you later at night—I promise, I'm busy—fuck."

The moment the curse escapes your mouth in the form of a moan, you hang up the call and squint your eyes shut; Yunho was thumbing your clit at an accelerated pace, stroking circles to let your orgasm delve deeper into your soul. Your phone slips out from your hand, falling down on the ground with a subtle thump while you bring both of your hands to rest them around his neck. Oh how tempted were you to push his head down, to make his tongue reach deeper into your swollen cunt.

"Fuck, Yun—Yun, I was on call—I was on a fucking call with my mom—fuck, couldn't you—couldn't you tone it down?" you stutter, trying to steady your erratic breath.

Yunho hadn't stopped thrusting his tongue into you, neither had he stopped stroking your clit with his thumb—he doesn't utter a word and continues to do so. You were done with his teasing, huffing to yourself, you push his head down against yours cunt; now his tongue reached deep, submerged completely in your flesh and your walls clenched tightly around him.

"Yes, fuck, yeah, feels good. So good," you drool, throwing your head back and arching yourself to let the pleasure wash over you.

More importantly, your orgasm was only a few thrusts away; maybe a few flicks of his thumb could have you mewling at him as you release all over his tongue and face. The imaginary sight in your mind was riling you up in the worst ways already—you wonder what it'd be like if it were to come to life. Now that you do think about it, your dream comes crashing through—merging with the reality to spread goosebumps on your skin. Just imagining Jongho being present in the room, watching you get fucked by Yunho's tongue, was pushing you further to your edge.

"Yunho...? I'm—" you tap his shoulder twice, but he doesn't budge and continues to push his tongue in your cunt.

"Fuck." You yell and then scream out his name when you feel your walls clenching around his tongue one last time, "Yunho!"

His thumb stops toying with your clit, but his face remains buried in between your legs, his thumb having quit shoving itself into your cunt. You're flooding down his face, squealing and mumbling his name under your breath in a voiceless chant before catching a beat to respire properly. In the daze of your orgasm hitting you like a bucket of bricks, you hear him hum and nuzzle his head further into cunt; a second passes by in the heat of the moment, and he reels himself back. Leaning away eventually, he straightens himself and wipes his face with the back of his hand, getting some of your slick on the sleeves of his shirt.

"Are you insane?" you breathe out.

"Insane to get my princess cum on my face," he chuckles and shakes his head, "I hope you're feeling better now because I felt you tense up when you were talking to your mother."

He begins unbuttoning his shirt, one by one he undoes the button and shrugs his shirt off his shoulders. Exposing his toned body, he throws his shirt off to somewhere and gets on his feet. You're still trapped in the stupor of your orgasm, to even notice him shimmy out of his pants. Clad in his black briefs, he leans down to capture your lips in a gentle kiss.

"I've got a problem, Yunho," you murmur, and he nods, "and is it bad enough to keep us from fucking?"

Rolling your eyes you scoff, ready to shove him away, "are you really thinking with your dick, right now?"

He traces his lips down your jaw, leaving behind open mouth kisses along your skin to your neck. His hands roamed to her bare back, skimming his fingertips up front till he drags them painstakingly slow to your stomach and then further to your clit. You hug his shoulders, tight enough to hold onto him.

"You are less tense now, princess. I'm guessing my tricks are working, so...why won't I think with my dick?" he chuckles, kneeling down before you to slot himself between your spread legs.

"It's not about that, Yunho," your whine, suppressing a titter to yourself. "I'm practically homeless."

"What?" he gasps, amused and pulls back to stare at you, a confused smile sculpting on his lips.

"My parents are having some financial troubles; they are falling short to pay me for my accommodation," you pout, noticing the tent in his briefs, "so, I have to find a new place to live. And I don't where I can find an affordable apartment."

The worry lines on your forehead, concerns Yunho too. He licks his lower lip and sighs, "Angel, you can live with us."

"What now?" you massage circles into his shoulders as you hold them.

"Yeah, we've got a spare room in the loft. Well, Jongho occupied it not too long ago, but he can surely move back in with Mingi." He explains, wrapping his hands around your waist, "you don't have to pay us rent because you're going to be paying us in a different way...in all, it's the best arrangement you could ever ask for."

You think, muse and contemplate. To one side of your head you were agreeing with his proposition, but on the other side, you were marred with the thought of living with eight men out of which five were sexually interested in you and two had already fucked you good. Well, you're given no choice but to agree and get along with his deal.

"Hey, you don't have to give me an urgent answer," he mumbles, thumbing the sides of your waist, "after we're done here, you can come on over and we'll talk it out with Hongjoong and Seonghwa. Capisce?"

"Why, are they supposedly the alpha males of the household?" you joke, giggling softly.

"Technically," Yunho shrugs, "Hongjoong owns the loft and he was generous enough to let us stay and share the rent. It started with me and Seonghwa, others eventually joined us through mutual friends—it was the beginning of our freshman year, so..."

"I'd need their permission?"

Yunho scoffs playfully, "princess, no. They'd be happy to welcome you in. But this is supposedly my suggestion and I fall a little short on making such decisions as compared to them. It's better if you talk with Hongjoong."

You sigh, "fine."

A smile fleets on your lips and it delves deeper in your cheek. "So, are you going to ease my mind or not?"

"You don't need to tell me twice, princess," he smirks, diving in to kiss you passionately so.

You kiss back with the same want, same heat crawling up your gut as his; the intensity wasn't dithering, neither was your anticipation. He pushes you back on the bed till you're laying under him and he straddles your lap. The kiss never stops, even when he fumbles with the waistband of his briefs to get them off in a haste. He somehow manages to tug his briefs down till his knees and his hard cock pokes your inner thigh, until the tip of his cock brushes past your lower stomach. His hands are back on you, holding your neck to position you better to deepen the kiss; his tongue wriggles its way in your mouth. For the moment it does, you feebly taste the redolence of strawberries and your cum on his tongue. There goes without saying, you still couldn't believe he let you cum on his face.

But who's to judge his preferences? You aren't a saint either. Definitely not.

Moaning into the kiss, you drag your hands up his back and let your fingertip tickle his skin. Breathless, Yunho breaks apart from the warmth of your mouth, missing the way his tongue was shoving down your throat, and uses one of his hands to pump his cock, while his other supports his weight when he places it next to your head. His back arches, his fingers stroking the reddened tip of his cock as bits of precum drips from the slit—he angles his hand in a way to spread his precum along the shaft with the palm of his hand.

"Fuck," he grunts, closing his eyes shut tight and continuing to pump his cock into his hand.

For you, this was definitely a sight more than breathtaking to witness. How often do you see a pretty blue haired man stroke his cock so eagerly for you? It went on to show how sorely he needed you and yearned to fuck your cunt. This only takes you back to the time when he had railed you so good and hard; you knew it he was untamed and being so feral with that huge cock, was indeed going to deliver the best.

You let out a soft whimper, adding in to the gentle sounding moans of his. Insane, absolutely insane. His moans were pretty, just like him and you know you could never get enough of him moaning.

"Take a deep breath for me, princess," he indicates you with a nudge of his head while he opens his eyes to look at you.

Taking a breath, you prepare yourself for his cock. He chuckles at you, admiring your intrepidity as he eases himself into you. Your face contorts in pain, with only his tip submerging in you. Knowing the pain would soon subside into pleasure, however it doesn't. Your brows twitch and your eyes squint tight enough for tears stream down the side of your face; your mouth falls agape, wide to the ache your walls sensing with the stretch.

"Ah—Yunho!" you gasp out loud, breaking out into a yell. "It hurts, stop."

And he stops. With same ease, he guides his cock out of you and cups your face immediately after noticing the tears in your eyes. You flutter your gaze across him, a little blurry but you still discern the concern etched on his face.

"Hey, what's wrong?" he asks, voice gentle and wispy. "Am I hurting you?"

"It just," you hiccup, "it hurts like hell when you..."

"Oh," he trails off, "is it because of last week? I think it is. I was too rough back then, wasn't I?" Sighing, his caresses your cheeks and leans in to kiss a stray drop of your tear away from your lips, "you're not used to such a huge cock, are you? It's fine. I'll have to be more careful with you next time—were you feeling any discomfort after that night?"

"I'm not sure, I felt sore and really raw at that time. Maybe I couldn't decry between vaginal tears and soreness," you mumble, assuring him with a faint smile before continuing, "look, it's not your fault. I failed to identify—"

"God, Angel," he groans, "it's not your fault, and for fucks sake put the blame on me. I should've been gentle with you for the first time. You're not used to it—ugh, never mind, I'll have to get you used to my size otherwise..."

"I'll be fine, stop worrying so much," you cup his face in your palms and reassure him. "Now, can we just...let's just forget about it and focus on making you feel good. It's only fair if I return the favour."

You lick your lips and let your tongue poke out through your lower lip; glancing down at his still hardened cock, you drool and your eyes twinkle with lust. He grabs your chin and forces you to meet his eyes.

"I am not so fond of blow-jobs," he says, smirking and then looking around till his eyes fixate on your chair and study desk. "Get on your feet, I've got a better idea." He then stands up and holds his hand out for you.

"Okay, mister," you roll your eyes and set your wobbly feet down, grabbing his extended hand before pulling you close to his body.

Your naked bodies crash into each other and heat emanates from both of you; his arms wrap around your waist and tug you around. He positions you in front of the chair, and pushes you down by the small of your back to have you leaning over the chair. He's right behind you, situating his cock perfectly against your ass which was raised high in the air.

"Legs apart," he whispers his command too close to your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

Slapping your inner thighs, he establishes a small distance between your legs and slips himself into it, his cock slides easily amid your thighs, a little below your folds. The tip of his cock rubs against your slit, rubbing back and forth—you're driven wild with the sensation, and even more so when his hands grope your thighs from behind. His fingers dig, sink in tight enough for bruises to appear. Again, you looked forward to it, being decorated with his marks. Perfect for a possessive man like him.

"Fuck, this is your idea to make yourself cum?" you dreamily laugh out, throwing your head behind on his chest.

"Your thighs feel godly, princess," he susurrates, licking up the shell of your ear before biting down hard on your earlobe. "Squeeze them."

You do as he says, squeezing your thighs together to feel his cock slip in and out at a steady pace. He bucks his hips a little higher to let himself rub against your slit in long and consistent strokes. This was certainly new to you, yet you were getting stimulated close to your second orgasm. You didn't think you would because this wasn't the same as the time he had actually penetrated you. There's no space for you to complain, you were slipping close into the world of pleasure and sensuality to give a damn about whether his cock was pounding in you or fucking your thighs.

"Fuck, just as I fucking thought—just as I fucking imagined what it would be to fuck your thighs," he whimpers close to your ear and later on you realise he was leaning over to kiss your cheek. "Princess, you've got unquestionably the best thighs to fuck. So thick, so tight—just fucking perfect."

You know he had lost it riding himself in between your thighs but you, on the other hand hadn't quite recovered from your last orgasm yet. Or even figured out how you weren't alerted to your vaginal injuries. It'd be unfair to call them injuries, they were basic nicks in the muscles of your vagina and cervix, from tremendous and tedious sexual activity. Pushing those thoughts to the far corner of your mind, your knuckles turn white while holding onto the chair, you were starting to get hot and bothered—so close to your orgasm again.

His cock thrusted along your cunt, hard and slick with his precum, which supposedly provided enough lubrication for his strokes to be smooth and pleasant. Your skin was covered with it however, and you were resisting to picture how his cum would paint your thighs. Picking up his pace, he thrusts faster yet keeps them long and sharp. Your walls clench around nothing, while your stomach drops to your knees; your legs buckle under you, under the weight of sensory overload his cock was proffering.

He flattens his palms on your thighs and gives you light slaps on either of your thighs, "we need to keep them thick and fleshy like this. I bet others would enjoy fucking them as much as I am right now."

"Hmhm, yeah..." you moan, shutting off your cognitive dissonance and mumbling along with him, "thick for you—thick for Seonghwa—thick for everyone."

"Ah, you're already blabbering bullshit, aren't you?" he titters heartily, pulling his hips back and driving them in sharply. "My cock makes you dumb, doesn't it? Hmm...a pretty little slut like you would be dumb for anyone's cock, isn't it?"

His taunts make you shake your head, lips parting to whimper, "no, fuck, only for you—only for you, Yunho."

"That's what I thought," he gasps, increasing his back and rattling his hips into yours.

His death grip is back on your thighs, his eyes are shut tight as he lurches forward to rest his forehead on your shoulder; sweaty chest presses up against your back, while you hold onto the chair for your dear life and to sedate the tremors his thrusts which caused your body to keel. The same tightness grows heavy in your gut, your spine tingling with how close you were to your second orgasm—your nails scratch off the varnish on the chair, scrapping bits of wood in them as he plunges his cock ruthlessly in between in your thighs. You squeeze them firmly, sensing the knot coming undone in your lower belly.

"Are you going to cum for me, princess?"

You nod your head, closing your eyes shut and leaning back into his touch; the heat creeps up your stomach and in a second's beat, the tension slips into comfort. You're releasing all over his cock, splashing on his and your thighs, a bit on the floor too. This time, you were knocked out for good; this orgasm was far more intense than the last one, far more overpowering too. You're mumbling his name like a chant, while he lets a laugh rumble in his chest.

"Fuck, my princess really made a mess on my cock, and everywhere else." he adds, "now, be a good little whore and help me cum too."

Without any warning, he goes even harder and faster than before, causing your body to convulse to his relentless thrusts. His untamed desire was evident in the way his fingers were bruising your skin, how tightly he was groping your thighs to stable himself from his ever increasing pace of his thrusts. He could go for long, and he does; your brain is turned to a mush in regard to the time or energy—his cock keeps hitting your folds, and the tip keeps abusing your clit.

You were past the point of sanity, breaking apart at the seams with your foul mouth screaming out his name and moaning it as if he was your god—technically, he was starting to show you stars, galaxies and miracles behind your shut eyes. All this from only rubbing himself between your thighs; it makes you wonder how much wilder the sex would get once you get to move in with him. Those ideas are for later, right now, you were vicious with his cock.

"Princess, I'm close. Don't worry—fuck—squeeze them tighter, for me—fucking please," he babbles out in despair, and you clasp your thighs even tighter on his cock.

"Fucking perfect."

He words out in a heavy breath, bucking his hips in your thighs as the tip of his cock remains close by your slit; heaving out, the warmth of his cum coats your folds and your slit. Gradually, he starts pulling back, still letting his cum sputter on your skin before he releases all of him on your ass and back. A few of it streaks down your butt-crack, eventually seeping down your butthole. You're groaning out in pleasure and possibly due to overstimulation. Nonetheless, you were satisfied, more than satisfied to know he had painted your back with his cum.

You're both breathless when he leans away from your shoulder and steps back; his small laugh resonates around you before dissipating into a soft titter.

"Princess, you just fucking know how to take a cock, don't you?" he mumbles in his post-orgasm daze, while grabbing his trousers to pull out his handkerchief. "Well, let's get you cleaned and then we'll take a shower together. We are both...sticky."

"Sounds good to me," you manage to gibber, not sure if it was audible or not. "I could use a hot shower and thorough cleaning after this."

"Hmm, I'll gladly help you clean."

You're too weak to turn around, so he helps you swivel on your feet while he holds your body close to his for support. Lethargic and drained, your eyes were closing themselves involuntarily. It was the lack of sleep—the sleep deprivation was slowly catching up with you.

"Keep your eyes open, princess. I need you here with me, okay?" his voice soothes a nerve in your mind, and you nod, opening your eyes. "Guess I'll have to be quick."

"Of course."

The rest of the evening, basically half-evening-half-night goes by smoothly. You both did take a shower together without engaging in anything and got rid of the sweat and stench of sex—but unfortunately, your room still reeked of sex, sweat and cum. You didn't care. Not particularly when you were dragged out of your dorm room by Yunho, after getting dressed in fresh clothes. You wore a long and oversized hoodie, shaded black and didn't bother wearing shorts or pants underneath as it covered most of your skin. To your surprise, as soon as you had your lip gloss on (because you liked lip gloss more than lipsticks), he had your hands intertwined and he was pulling you out of the door. He was eager for you, and the seemingly harmless arrangement you were about to propose to Hongjoong and Seonghwa.

You would've never guessed that this man drives a red corvette stingray if you hadn't been strapped in the passenger's seat of his car. An innocent looking man like him, driving such a flashy sports car, was indeed a shock to you. Looks can be deceiving, so who really cares? Everything passes by you in a blur when he speeds down the road; eventually, the city lights turn into streaks of neon haze and starbursts, until you're by the complex where his loft was located. He parks his car, and helps you out. Your hand in his, he guides you in and takes you to the loft.

Your heart is in your throat, not because you were back to this place with Yunho by your side but because you were too scared to anticipate Hongjoong's and Seonghwa's judgment on your proposition. This has to go well, and it will. Right? You have Yunho with you. What could possibly go wrong?

Yunho unlocks the door and pushes it to usher you inside. His hand never leaves yours; his grip doesn't loosen up for even a second as his pulling you further up to the living room. You and he had taken off your shoes in a haste and did not bother slipping into the house slippers. However, the commotion of your footsteps and Yunho's constant murmurs of 'it'll be okay', 'they won't bite you' and 'just relax' had gotten certain attention from the people sitting on couch.

You're soon greeted with San and Jongho, especially Jongho who has a twinkling and excited smile carved on his face. Both of them were seated on the couch, San having a laptop perched on his lap while Jongho made his observations on the screen—they were clad in their night clothes, San wearing a pair of black pajamas with white cats all over it and Jongho, a pastel blue pajama set with brown bears on it.

"Angel!!" he glees, catching your glimpse next to Yunho, "what brings you here so late at night?" his tone simmers down to being confused.

San adds, "yeah, it's not our game night tonight."

"Guys, stop pestering her, okay?" Yunho groans, looking around, "where are Hongjoong and Seonghwa?"

"Seonghwa's in the kitchen—"

"What is it Jongho...oh hey, Angel!" Seonghwa interrupts Jongho and quickly turns it into an elated greeting. "Should I be concerned for you to make your appearance this late into the night—can't ignore the fact that Yunho's here too. Are you two eloping?"

He's walking out of the kitchen, draped in a variedly stained apron and a wooden spatula in his hand. He looks gorgeous as usual, covering his white turtleneck and black trousers with a grunge red apron—not only his outfit made you quiver, but his hair was also pushed back and tied in a small ponytail behind. If he looked this alluring even when you move in, then you don't think you'd be able to resist the urge to suck him off every time he appeared in front of you.

Yunho clears his throat, aggressively and it becomes a series of wretched coughs till he's gasping for air. "Don't go too hard on me, Hwa. You know how I am."

"Fuck your preferences, Yun," Seonghwa rolls his eyes, "what is the point in bringing Angel here?"

"Well, I'll let her explain it," Yunho sighs, giving you a nudge of his head.

"Uhh, yeah, I need to talk," you mumble, scratching the back of your neck with your other hand.

Your words alert Jongho and San, and they're saturated completely on you, regardless of a certain video playing on San's laptop. Seonghwa hums along, encouraging you with a nod of his head while biting his lower lip. Yunho only stares at you, keeping a frail smile on his face.

"So, go on."

A coarse yet pitched voice booms through the room, followed by nifty footsteps of the man you had been waiting to come. You assumed he was in his room or something, but not thinking he could be at work. Hongjoong strides in, running one of his hands through his hair and other stuffed in the pocket of his jogger shorts. You watch him adorning a black tank top over his toned chest and nothing else; his complexion was striking but wasn't as pale as Yunho. A pop of melatonin makes his skin a little tanned.

"I suppose, Yunho bringing you here is rather crucial for you." He says, walking over to sit next to Jongho. Spreading his legs apart and relaxing back on the couch, he repeats, "go on, Angel."

You clear your throat, "I—I actually—I actually need a place to stay. My parents—"

"—she's in no condition to pay for her university accommodation, so she's looking for a new place to stay. I asked her to come with me since we have a room to spare," Yunho interjects, his eyes trailing over at Jongho, "you'll have to move back in with Mingi, baby bear. You're understanding enough, right?"

Jongho ponders for a minute before silently nodding, "sure. I don't mind. Angel needs it more than me."

You can't help but crack a smile at him, heart palpitating faster in your chest. Yunho could hear your heartbeat, and he squeezes your hand to ease you out. Seonghwa notices it and smiles to himself, shaking his head at the two of you before excusing himself from the living room and going back into the kitchen.

Hongjoong finds it amusing, his lips twisting in a knowing smirk before he asks you, "that's not the issue, Angel. What I need to know from you is—rather what I'm aching to hear from you is, your riposte to my proposed idea of you..."

"I agree to it," you're too quick to reply, taking the man off guard and others too.

San remains confused because he had no clue what you were talking about. Now that he is here, does it mean he'll also be involved in this reverse harem thing you have going on with others? If San gets involved then would the others be involved too? Of course you're thinking about Wooyoung and Mingi, one is a reputed manwhore and other is a man who resents you. That too for no apparent reason—or for something you don't know.

"You do?" Jongho squeals, questioning you.

"Yeah, I don't mind being your..." you trail off, glazing your eyes over at San.

From the kitchen, you hear thudding of metal dishes and spoons, soon Seonghwa comes rushing out with his wooden spatula.

"She agrees?" he asks, and Yunho nods, "she said she'd need more time to think about it, but I guess..."

"Are you agreeing to it because of your living conditions, Angel?"

There it was, Hongjoong comes straight to point. Even his stare was detrimental for you, and how insanely intense it was to pierce through yours. Hongjoong clearly liked to dominate submissive women like you—he has how own share of kinks and customs he likes to follow in the bedroom. And some of them, might seem too unconventional. You didn't want your mind to stray too far off, but he seemed like the type who definitely delighted himself in playing with chains and cuffs.

"I'm not!" you retort, explaining yourself further, "I gave it some thought and I don't think it's a bad idea."

Your pout melts through the stubborn and ice cold heart of Hongjoong's—for a man with domineering aura, he sure is letting himself submit to you. He doesn't let his stoicism waver on his face, rather his purses his lips together and spreads his legs apart further.

"Don't think it's a bad idea?" he repeats your words in coherence to your judgement, "Angel, we don't want you doing anything you are uncomfortable with. Your consent means a lot to us."

"And you have it," your pout grows, and you vaguely point at Seonghwa and Yunho, "I've already gone to the extreme with him and him."

Hongjoong chuckles, and keeping his lips parted, his canines rest against his lower lip, "we'll add it to the very list of your sex chronicles with us."

Your face heats up and turns red, before you could open your mouth to retaliate, San pipes in, "so, you've discussed this before? She's our new...fucktoy?" he cringes thereafter, shrugging his shoulders and scrunching his face in disgust, "with all due respect, let me rephrase, you are our new arrangement to satisfy our sexual desires?"

You nod, your heart hammering in your chest. "Yeah, one and only."

"Are you really sure, Angel?" Jongho wants a confirmation from you and smile at him, wide and bright, wanting to erase his doubts. "Then I guess we no longer have to wait for your answer."

Seonghwa chimes in, "so, when are you moving in?"

"Oh, once this month gets over. There's only a week left anyway," you shrug, smiling a little, "I'll start packing right away."

Yunho hugs you from behind, kissing your neck; first you're caught off guard, second, he's doing this right in front of everyone and third, his scent was driving you crazy.

"I'll help you." He mumbles against your skin.

"Yunho, you know the ground rules," Hongjoong threatens and the man who was sticking to you like glue before, now detaches himself from you in an instant. "So, less P-D-A."

"Ugh, ground rules," Yunho whines, but steals a kiss from your cheek. "I'll go get changed and you are staying over tonight. Let's have dinner together, shall we?"

"Of course!" San sings, "we'll get to know you better too. I bet Wooyoung would be pretty excited to know more about you."

"Speaking of him, where is he?" Hongjoong inquires and Jongho answers, "it's the peak hour, where else would he be?"

Hongjoong nods, getting his answer and Seonghwa sprints back into the kitchen not long before announcing, "we've got enough food for you too, so you're staying here."

You quietly agree to him and swallow thickly, striding over to sit on the lone chair adjacent to the couch. That's when Mingi comes into the room from upstairs, his hair tousled and messy, wearing grey sweatpants and a grunge green graphic sweatshirt. He eyes you as he crosses the living room, glaring at you to set his point through. He didn't want you here. But, he couldn't go against Hongjoong's or Seonghwa's wishes.

"Look who's finally out of their room!" Jongho cheers, laughing and joking around before clearing his throat and informing Mingi, "oh well, guess what, Mingi. I'm shifting myself back into your room. Angel's moving in with us and taking over the spare room."

"What?" Mingi grunts, burning his eyes on you, through you, in all hating your presence in the room altogether.

"Y'all really addicted to this whore's cunt, aren't ya? Keep me out of your fucking deal. I ain't getting involved."

And that fucking hurt your soul. But you keep quiet and while you're at it, Yunho walks in the heated room—Hongjoong and the others are about to defend you when Yunho does it himself. He adorns a conceited smirk and folds his arms over his chest, they bulge out through his grey hoodie somehow, but your eyes travel down to somewhere where they shouldn't have. His jogger shorts are too thin to show off the outline of his cock, he wasn't hard, but he was huge. Why are you drooling on his cock when you're having trouble in paradise? Not that you hadn't seen his cock before. And you are his damsel in distress.

"That's more for us then, Min." Yunho steps closer to him and gets all in his face,

"If you're not involved in this with us, then it's one less person we'll have to share her with."

Chapter Text

 The mug of coffee in your hand proffers you a little bit of warmth while Mingi's cold brown eyes were piercing through yours. Another day, another stone-hearted glare from him, another attempt at appeasing your mind. It's no surprise, but the grounds have already been established that you two are eternally bound in a hellfire. Arguments are to strike on the daily basis, and you were prepared for those consequent feelings to surface somehow. On the contrary, you no longer had to worry about his unreasonable resentment towards you. It was clear as a day to you when he firmly said or called others to be addicted to your 'cunt'.

You momentarily cringe at yourself recalling his said words, not that you could resist yourself from reeling back into that night. Things went well that night, you had stayed over for dinner with them and ironically, Yunho joked about how he had the 'dessert' first and then the dinner. Of course, you were his dessert, metaphorically speaking. Conversations carried on were all too basic until Wooyoung asked you for your sexual preferences, the nitty gritty details about your personality in bed. It didn't take long for things to get awkward all around the table, So Seonghwa shooed everyone away to their rooms and asked for your help in doing the dishes with him. Now, you could be biased, but the conversation you had with him was way better and liberating than others. You could tell you were hella attracted to him, and not just for his appearance, but also for his personality and the way he speaks.

Which would explain why you were in the kitchen with him currently; you and Mingi's little battle of standing true through 'intense' eye contact had been deemed worthless by Seonghwa.

He clears his throat, and announces, "quit it you two!"

Mingi clicks his tongue and looks away, "move, you're in my way."

He clenched his jaw, spitting his words with an aggressive tone which you didn't find it quite right. You pressed your lips together and opened your mouth to retort, however Seonghwa having predicated the argument bubbling amid you two, soon scoffs out, "be more polite to her, Mingi. It costs you nothing."

Your attention trails towards Seonghwa, who apparently was trying to flip a pancake in the pan. His back faced Mingi, but he didn't fall short on conveying his authority. Leaning against the kitchen counter, at a distance from Seonghwa, you confusedly look at Mingi and he offers you a very dramatic eye roll and a sigh.

"I need to get my bowl for cereal," he explains further, shaking his head and then turning on his heels, "you know what? Never mind, I'll skip on breakfast today."

Your brows scrunch together, before you could say anything, Seonghwa beats you to it, "have your breakfast, Mingi. You're not going anywhere on an empty stomach."

"Ugh," he groans, "you're always breathing down my neck."

He turns back around, and you move from the counter; watching him drag the drawer out and take a red coloured bowl, you muse for a little and then take a deep breath. Mingi was...he was...God you had no words to describe him, or his appearance. He was tall, intriguing, he was buff, hot, and he had the most kissable lips you had ever seen on a guy. You were thirsting over him, pining to caress his lips with yours for at least a second to know what they tasted like. Probably bitter, your subconscious replied. Mingi fiddles his fingers across the oversized graphic shirt he had worn, an action which causes for the material to strain around his chest and expose off his pointy nipples. His pecks looked delicious, you were drooling mentally over them and him...

You need to get a grip!

"Angel, would you mind sitting on the dining table?" Seonghwa asks, stacking the baked pancake over a plate which already had some. "I'll bring your plate right away."

He smiles at you, waiting for you to take an initiative, or maybe, he was waiting for Mingi to leave. Without saying, Mingi does leave, paddling his feet away to the dining table where two boxes of cereal were sitting atop along with a carton of milk. Morning haze sunshine breaks through the balcony doors, flooding the living and the dining space with golden rays of heat; you were greeted by the sound of birds chirping when you had awoken, alongside Seonghwa's groggy voice asking you for coffee. When you woke up, way early than you could ever have, you found yourself sitting idle on the dining table and watched the sunrise percolate the dawning night sky. A beautiful blend of purple and orange had taken over, intriguing your senses and proffering deep thoughts to your mind, as Seonghwa had also accompanied you.

"I'm good here," you smile back at him, wide and bright, letting your eyes linger over him for a minute longer than they should have. "I like spending time with you."

You shrug, looking down at your mug and he lets out a chuckle, rolling his loosened sleeves further up his forearm, before pouring a ladle of batter into the pan. The sounds of sizzle reverberate, easing out the awkward silence between you two.

"Me too," he says, cracking into a grin, "you're fun to have around. And your elaborate imagination makes it even better."

"Unfortunately, some don't like my presence here," you mutter under your breath, Mingi's ear perk at your sound but his mouth doesn't yap as it usually would. "Well, their loss."

Seonghwa lets out a soft titter, "it sure is."

You again let your eyes rummage over Seonghwa's figure a little longer; he towered over the counter, wearing a burnt orange shirt with its sleeves rolled up till his elbows and paired it with black trousers, and had a navy-blue apron covering it all. He liked cooking. It seemed like it; not from the way he was flipping the pancake or preparing dinner, but by the apron he tied around his waist—it had his name embroidered on it in a pretty shade of pastel blue and green.

"There you go," he mumbles, stacking the freshly made pancake on top of already made ones on a plate and hands it to you.

"Let me finish my coffee first," you remark, pouting.

He rolls his eyes playfully at you and strides towards Mingi who was sitting peacefully and enjoying his cereal while scrolling through his phone. Placing the plate in front of him, Seonghwa flashes him a bold smile and pats his back twice before returning next to you. The stove is shut off, and he takes a breath of relief.

"How did you sleep last night?"

Seonghwa initiates and you gulp the sip of coffee in a haste to answer, "slept well. Actually, Jongho and I were talking about our classes till late night yesterday. You know, basic things."

"Really?" he instigates, "just about classes?"

"Yes, what else?" you state as a matter of factly, and shake your head. "I agree there has been some tension between us for the past few days, but I swear, it's nothing I can't handle."

"The tension between you two is so thick you could practically cut it with a knife," he adds, "you two need to fuck it out."

"Fuck what out now?" Yunho chimes in, his footsteps ascending into the kitchen.

"Her and Jongho's sexual tension..." Seonghwa answers him, and you both earn nothing as a reaction from him.

Yunho's sleepy eyes caress your face, and then Seonghwa's, his bed hair looks cute on him and for a fact, his flushed face was giving your head some ideas you didn't want to have. The squishy cheeks you had started adoring so much were practically cherry red, cute. Yunho walks straight over to the refrigerator and pulls it open to grab a chilled bottle of water. Unscrewing the cap in no time, he gulps the entire bottle down. You're staring at him, biting your lip, controlling your arousal to make a splash in your panties—basically, you were helpless since he was riling you up by just drinking water. And why wouldn't you be, staring at his sharp jawline and the way his adam's apple quivered with every gulp of water he took, gave you an ecstatic rush of thrill.

A few drops of water trickle down his chin and neck, eventually soaking into the white shirt he had worn; pulling the bottle away from his lips, he crushes it in one hand and flings it into the trash can just situated at a feet's distance from the refrigerator.

He heaves out a sigh, "that felt good."

You swallow thickly before raising your mug up to hide your flustered cheeks.

"Did you sleep well, Angel?" Yunho asks you, and you nod, not caring to bring the mug away or anything.

His brows stitch closer to each other on his forehead. "Okaaaaaayy." He drags his word as if he had another question in the waiting. "Are you going to attend the university fest today? I suppose it's the last day of it..."

You nod again.

Seonghwa scoffs, "Jongho asked her to company him tonight, right? Well, I believe that could be a perfect opportunity to fuck it out."

You nod. Yet again. But this time you were bewildered to learn Yunho's reaction; his face falls, lips turning to a frown and eyes darkening in mere seconds. He was jealous. And you wanted that to happen. Not because you were pining for his attention, but because he had regarded your relationship to be purely sexual and not romantic. Yunho did not want to be romantically involved with you; he had made that clear the day you moved in. It hurt you in all ways possible because you were, with certainty, yearning something more than sexual intimacy from him. God doesn't give with both hands, and he surely missed out when he was constructing your love life.

Regardless, Yunho feigns a frail smile. "Oh, that's nice. Have fun tonight. And use protection."

He turns on his feet and trudges over to Mingi; settling himself down next to him, he places his hand on Mingi's thigh and the two get lost in a conversation. You're staring at him, wondering if there was an elucidation to his behaviour. He has the very right to be jealous, but he has no right to express it when either of you had agreed to keep your relation exclusive to physical intimacy.

Oh, men are confusing!

"Angel?" Seonghwa calls out to you and jerk from your trance, "yeah, I'm here..."

"You knew what you were getting yourself into, there's no point in moping," he continues.

"I'm not moping!" you defend yourself, "it's the way he acts—the week before me moving in, he was different. He'd come unannounced to my dorms; we would not fuck or do anything intimate actually but at least he'd show me some sort of affection. We'd talk a lot, we'd cuddle..." You were rambling, you knew it, but you continue either way, "ever since I moved in here, somehow the other guys' influence drives him away from me, most of the times. I am not complaining, but he can do better than get jealous of others and not acknowledge my existence at all."

"Angel," Seonghwa enunciates your name in a 'butterfly in your belly' manner, "we're all different from each other. You know it for yourself, right. Give him some time. He'll bend eventually."

"I don't want him to bend," you whine a little, "I don't know what I want from him."

Seonghwa chuckles, finding your silliness admirable. "That's why we don't do girlfriends. They're complicated."

"I'm taking offence in what you've just said, thank you very much," you poke your tongue out at him.

"What I'm trying to say is," he drawls on his words, "we're all incapable of understanding women, albeit some of us having older sisters—we haven't yet adapted to their clinging and constant need for attention."

As he shrugs, a nerve in your head nicks and you're forced to glare at him. "Sorry, but don't ever have a girlfriend, Seonghwa."

"I'm trying not to," he pouts, "but it's been hard ever since you moved in."

"What do you mean?"

"Nothin—" an alert on his phone buzzes too loud, silencing him with a frown on his lips.

Scooping his phone out of his pocket, his brows scrunch together in concern as reads whatever was it was on the screen.

"Alright, I got called in early at work," he murmurs, stuffing his phone back in and untying his apron; he hangs his apron over your shoulder and hands spatula to you, remarking, "I'm leaving this job to you. Make delicious breakfast for everyone, Angel!"

With that he walks past you and disappears down the hallway on your left. You're dazed, shocked, wondering what the hell happened in the blink of an eye because you quite obviously were staring at Mingi and Yunho in the state of bemuse. Not to mention, you did appear like an idiot to them, with the apron on your shoulder and both your hands occupied with your coffee mug and the spatula. Yunho clears his throat and Mingi stifles a chuckle, while you're forced to roll your eyes at them and Mingi's immaturity.

"I can't cook!" you squeal, groaning softly.

"I'll help you." Jongho's voice rings in your ear, getting louder with his ascending footsteps.

While he stifles a yawn by pressing his lips together, his eyes crinkle by the corners and he makes his presence right in front of you. He grabs the apron from your shoulder without hesitation and walks over to the counter with the stove top. The remaining oil from the last time, sizzles in the pan when he turns the stove on. You watch him tie the apron around his waist in a beat and roll the sleeves of his grey sweatshirt till his elbows. Gradually and carefully, he pours a ladle full of batter onto the pan and forms a perfect circle. You're drinking your coffee at a slow pace, perusing, observing, admiring. The sexual tension which had been filled up to the brim of your stomach was now spilling out, like an overflowing sink.

"Jongho, prepare a plate for me while you're at it," Yunho calls out shortly before continuing the conversation between him and Mingi. They spoke in tongues, weird mumbles which you couldn't discern quite well.

You were certainly feeling some type of way, though all you could do was swallow the bitterness with the gulp of coffee and drag your feet to Jongho. Standing next to him, after you had put your mug in the sink, you offer him help. He refuses. And you whine.

"Oh, come on. Seonghwa put the responsibility on me."

"Yeah, he did. But you can't cook." Jongho states, "as a matter of fact, you said so yourself."

"Agreed, but I can at least try," you retort, reaching for the ladle in the bowl of batter. "If I don't push myself to learn in these circumstances, then when will I?"

Jongho lets out a hefty breath, "nope. You can learn some other time, Angel. For now, if Yunho doesn't get his breakfast, he'll castrate me."

You narrow your eyes at him, judging him. "What, he will—he's not going to castrate you! That's...oh come on, he won't castrate you."

"He will and I know it," he offers you a knowing smile before putting the ladle back in the bowl of batter and picking up the flat spatula. "He might seem like a sweet-innocent-puppy type but in reality, he's not."

You watch him flip the pancake at the end of his words—with your mouth parted slightly, you glance towards Yunho and Mingi in the dining space, both grinning ear to ear, taking to each other. The contrast of Jongho's words puts you in a position where you're left to mull over his actual personality. No matter what angle you looked at him from, Jongho's speculations were baseless in your opinion. How can a guy with a golden retriever energy turn into an agitated chihuahua for that matter?

"Are you sure, Jongs?" you muse, biting your lip. You tear your gaze off of him and focus on the said man—Jongho had a peculiar stare fixed on you, probably because of the new nickname you had allotted to him.

"You know who came up with my nickname, baby bear?" he questions and answers it himself, "he did. And you know how he did? It was in spite. Apparently, I pissed him off when I touched his gaming setup or something. So, I don't play with that guy anymore. Figuratively."

"Geez, relax. I understand," you roll your eyes, "so, when he says he has a side to him, which I probably won't like, he means it?"

"Only if you have a death wish then provoke him. Be my guest. See where that leads you." Jongho shakes his head.

While talking to you, he's gotten at least three pancakes stacked on a fresh new plate; whistling to himself, he trudges over to the dining table and places the plate in front of Yunho. Meanwhile, you're still caught in the trance of mediating the conversation you just had with Jongho. Oh, you'd love to provoke Yunho. A lot. In fact, your mind had already started thinking of ideas and trickeries to get him irked.

"Angel to earth?" a light voice wakes you up and you find yourself staring at a wide eyed Seonghwa.

"Hey, Hwa," you mumble noting the closeness between you and his hands holding your shoulders.

He lets out a vague chuckle, "lost you there for a moment." he takes a short pause before kissing your cheek, "just came by to say I'm leaving. So, I'll catch up with you tonight. I hope you two would've fucked by then."

"Seonghwa!" you whine out loud, brows creasing, lips parting, and cheeks heating up. From the corner of your eye, Jongho is strolling back into the kitchen, lips moving to some incoherent mumbles. "He's coming, shoo! Off you go. You're embarrassing me."

"I mean it, Angel," he whispers, "out of others, he's been yearning to spend more time with you—since the time you two have known each other."

"What are you two on about?" Jongho casts you a confused glare, standing a feet apart from you two.

"Nothing," Seonghwa utters in urgency, "see you tonight, Angel. Bye." He pecks your lips and shuffles out of the kitchen.

Once the door closes shut with a thump, you mentally let out a groan and turn around on your feet, wanting to hide your red cheeks from Jongho. Seonghwa's intentions had bothered you a lot, hell even looking at Jongho put images in your head—the kind you don't want anyone to see. Early morning you had been aroused to your own imagination; picturing yourself being trapped under him, while his cock pounded into you and you squirmed wrapping your legs around his waist. Though what exhilarated you most about him was the fact that you'd get to watch him bare.

"You two are a little too close, aren't you?"

You scoff, "it's because we've been talking a lot as compared to others."

"We used to know each other even before you knew any of them," Jongho pouts.

"Aww, are you feeling left out, baby bear?" you lean over to ruffle his hair.

Jongho lets out a soft growl before taking a step close to you, and closer and closer—till you're pressed up against the kitchen counter. Your back aches to the protruding marble countertop, but when you're trapped by his body, you couldn't be any less concerned about it. Jongho's arms are on either side of you, clutching the counter tight enough to not let you escape. His eyes are trained on you, hungry, a little maniacal and so fucking possessive. Lips turning to a scowl, he tilts his face closer to you, his breath ghosting your skin and riling you up even more. You take a deep breath, involuntarily resting your hands on his forearm—ready to push him off of you any moment, but you hold back. Because the dark in his eyes had you paralysed.

"Yeah, I'm feeling left out," he grunts, pushing his body into yours; how obstructing your clothes were, it angered you. "I feel like you're not interested in me."

You shake your head, gulping, "I am. I really am..."

You're rendered breathless when he buries his head in the crook of your neck. Littering kisses and soft nicks of his teeth on your skin, you can surely tell he was loving the way you shuddered under him. Even more so when his body is all pressed up against yours, pushing you further down on the counter. His arms wound themselves around your waist, and you're urged to hop on the counter. Sitting up, propped against his body like a puppet, you nudge your head to a side to give him better access to leave striking bruises on your neck.

The warmth of his mouth was driving you insane. Your pleasure knew no bounds when you wrap your legs around his waist—the flimsy oversized tee you wore rides up your thighs, exposing your boy-shorts and the little wet patch near your cunt. You were glad he couldn't take a note of it, not exactly when he aligns his crotch perfectly over yours and starts grinding.

"Oh dear lord," a moan hitched in your throat, feeling his boner press tightly against your cunt.

He bucks his hips at a gradual pace, stretching out yours and his arousal in waves as his cock rubbed up and down your slit. Retracing his lips from your neck to your jawline, he draws a shallow breath in and pecks your lips softly. You're left muddled when he takes a step back, loosening his grip on your waist, and letting his warmth dissipate from you. It was torturous. The work of devil was to take you high and leave you dry, aching to have a taste of something only he has. Disappointed by his feat, you mewl under your breath and stare at him with your half-lidded eyes.

He has a smirk on his face, "I'm saving you for the end of the night."

"That's not fair," you whine, capturing the attention of the two sole spectators sitting at a distance from you. "You can't just..."

"Yes, yes I can, Angel." Jongho's smirk widens.

"Keep it hygienic in the kitchen, you freaks," Yunho grumbles out loud, jerking you out of your daze and making you scoff. He adds, "we cook food in there. I better not get any bodily fluids in my mouth."

"Says the one who let me cum on his face," you scoff and roll your eyes, hopping off the counter. It was all a disquisition of his jealousy and nothing more. "Don't be such a hypocrite, Yun. I know you'd rather watch me get railed on the counter."

"Touché," he licks his lips and glances at Jongho, "I'd rather participate than watch."

Mingi creates a retching sound with his throat and groans, "gross! Why can't we have normal conversations in the morning which don't have to revolve around performing orgies in the kitchen?"

"Because nothing about us is normal?" Jongho instigates, "well whatever the fuck it is, I'm outta here." With that he leaves you stranded in front of two pairs of judgy eyes.

"I'm going to take my leave too."

You nod awkwardly, having not moved on from what Yunho had said. It did occur to you that you had wasted a lot of time in the kitchen, when in actuality, you could've gotten showered, dressed, and headed off to your early lectures. It's not too late yet. So, you drag your feet out of the kitchen and promenade down the hallway on left; it led you to the staircase leading up to where your room was. The dimly lit hallway on the second floor, houses four rooms, two on either side. Your room was on the extreme right, beside Yeosang's room and right opposite to your room was Mingi's and Jongho's shared room.

The moment you've slammed your room door, you slump against it and expel a lung-shattering breath. Was this how it's going to be now? The said proposal was to become their fucktoy because their kinks were unconventional for normal women—but it did not state you'd be their prey twenty four by seven, and either of them could lurch at you and have you in any way they please. You will have to talk about it with Hongjoong. You really have to.

You get on your feet and let your eyes meander around your room for a second longer before deciding to take a shower and leave for your classes. Your room wasn't much, a little spacious with an adjoining bathroom but that was all there to it. Though, taking the other rooms in consideration, yours was a little better—however, Yeosang's was a masterpiece. After leaving the dorms and due to your financial situation, you couldn't afford a bed—all you had was Wooyoung's old futon. And you had to sanitise it inside out. Either way, you were thankful for the futon and the extra cabinets around, plus a full sized closet which housed all your clothes. The it's and bits you brought from your dorm room were your mirror, your clothes and your shoes. Yes, the gazillion pair of shoes and boots you owned. You added a little whimsical vibe to the room by hanging a pastel green dreamcatcher by the window which opened to the backside of the loft, giving you the view of an elm tree, and some rose bushes planted by Seonghwa himself.

In no time, you get showered and dressed; you were flaunting your outfit in your body sized mirror propped against the closet, right in front of your futon. Going causal, you wore a pastel pink sundress, which was long enough to cover up till your knees and paired it with a black cardigan. You packed your hair in a high ponytail and teased a few strands of your hair to let them frame your face. Spraying some perfume on yourself, and adorning appropriate accessories, you grab your tote bag and head out.

The rest of your day is devoted to your lectures and experimental lab work; you Jongho and had intercepting classes together, but they were few considering you both had different subject groups. At the end of the day, you were back at the loft and the moment you enter inside, you're greeted with Wooyoung and San. More specifically, Wooyoung was chasing San. You were least bothered witnessing the roommates run after each other in their matching sweatshirts and boxer briefs. Yeah, even boxer briefs. The main concern should be they were wearing only boxer briefs on their lower body.

The two are engrossed in furling curse words at each other, something you didn't want to hear, or waste a fraction of your mind understanding. Howsoever, they halt their movements and smile at you, both at the same time; you're casting your confused gaze on them, sitting on the couch, while they're a few feet from the coffee table.

"Hey Angel!" they sing in unison, and you pout, "hey, guys. Uh...what is happening?"

"Oh, this?" Wooyoung oscillates his forefinger between the two of them. "Just what we do. San ate what was clearly marked as mine—"

"—there was no note! And the refrigerator is everyone's property!" San interrupts him.

"Uh, there was a note, ya jerk." Wooyoung snarls, "I specifically put a note because I know you would eat it!"

"But hey, what's yours is mine too, right?" San teases, "to be fair, last night's leftovers were a little stale."

"Because you weren't supposed to eat them!" Wooyoung seethed through his gritted teeth, ready to spring into a sprint but San holds his hands up in defence.

"Wha—why? Was it one of your experiments, again?" the latter deadpans, "Wooyoung, I swear to god, I'll kill you!"

You're amused to witness how the scene unfolds, this time San was chasing Wooyoung around, with his hand fisted and raised. Two of them circle the dining table, and come back in the living room; Wooyoung eventually comes to sit next to you and San stands by his feet, arms folded over his chest which rose and fell.

"Why are you so..." you're about to complete your words when San glares at you. "He's a culinary student, he creates—innovates! But sometimes they turn out to taste like shit. When he knows he's fucked, he slides it in the refrigerator and waits for any one of us to taste it. And we do, because of course it's too tempting not to. And then, we're the victims of his escapades!"

Oh boy. He was fuming. He was rambling.

"I don't understand what you're complaining about when you licked the plates clean!" Wooyoung retaliates in a whine, "and I used blue cheese, how the fuck did you think it tasted stale?"

"Oh god, leave it," San pouts and slumps himself next to him, both of them eventually and forcefully lean on you. "Hey, Angel. How was your day?"

You clear your throat to answer San's question, "tiring, but I made through it."

"And Jongho?" Wooyoung bounces his brows at you, smiling slyly.

"What about him?"

San clicks his tongue, "did the two of you fuck somewhere, perchance in the library?"

Your cheeks turn red, "seriously, fuck you two."

"You will eventually," they both sing in unison, and you groan, but a loud ring resonates in your space you're coerced to calm down.

Bringing your phone out of your tote bag, which still apparently was stuck to your shoulder, and take a look at the recent messages you had received. It was Jongho, the bear emoji was obvious. You smile to yourself, not caring if the latter two were eying you smugly enough to speculate something and open his texts.

Baby Bear 🐻:
Meet me
in the parking lot.

You:
Why?

Baby Bear 🐻:
I think we've
got someplace to be.
I'm waiting for you.
Hurry up.

You:
Alright.
😗

Stuffing your phone in your bag, you hastily rush out of the living room to get your bedroom; the first thing you do is, fling your tote bag somewhere on your futon and make a quick sprint to the bathroom. Seemingly as the night strings you along, there was a slight possibility that you two were going to fuck. You couldn't ignore the sexual tension between you two, nor could you turn a cold shoulder over to the vicious salacity you two had trapped in your souls. It was time. It was time to—as Seonghwa would say it—fuck it out. So, the only smart thing to do was, clean yourself and maintain proper hygiene before going out of the apartment.

Satisfied with your choice of lingerie and perfume (of course you wanted to smell good for him), though at some point you wondered if it were really worth it to present yourself on a silver platter for him. Well, to hell with it. You really like Jongho, have been crushing on him ever since you met him in the physics laboratory. It was an accidental meet, but heartwarming in a way. The more you talked to him that day, the more you were attracted to him. However, he was your first real friend in the university and didn't want to jinx it by confessing your feelings which could even be unrequited.

And so, you thought.

Jongho was interested in you as much as you were in him. The unprecedented number of glances he'd spare your way when you'd have your classes together, or when he'd purposely join your class, regardless having a different schedule but same subject group, all of it soon started making sense. As your mind would profoundly accept his feelings to be true, your heart longed for him to make the first move. You didn't quite understand how your level one romantic feelings soon turned into level four sexual attraction. If you could spell out a reason for your unbridled attraction toward him, then it would be the remarkable anticipation of knowing whether he has an undomesticated side or not.

Jongho, on the surface, appeared to be one of those distinguished men who would rather stay vanilla in bed and take every concern about his lover in consideration. Although, after the little morning thrill, you were starting to think there's more to Jongho than he lets you in on. Maybe tonight could be the night you get to witness his ferociousness.

The thought itself drives you wild, forcing the urge to squeeze your thighs together to relieve the strain in your cunt. But you already know you were getting aroused and letting your slick drench your panties. You trap a whimper in your chest and head downstairs, coming face to face with Wooyoung and San who were making out on the couch. How weirdly the dynamic had shifted, or how ironic the situation was—weren't they just running after each other?

You press your lips together, amiably struck by the way their moans were dispersed in the living space, and how gradually louder they were getting. San had crawled into Wooyoung's lap and the latter had his arms around his waist, roaming and what not—two of them lost in their own carnal desires to notice your presence lurking near the coffee table. You let out a squeak and head straight to the front door, leaving the two be for what they were.

The humming buzz in your mind had dissipated long back, but your senseless ponders kept revisiting you. Unseeming, but not quite unforeseen, you were yet to venture into their world of kinks and their unconventional sexual tastes. Their preferences, their choices, their specific interests and disinterests—all of it coerced a beautiful theory of carnality.

You take the elevator all the way down to the lot, holding onto your crossbody bag (courtesy of your mom who had gifted it to you when you were leaving home). The prolonging darkness, yet the slithering lights of the randomly affixed lampposts were a bit too exhilarating. You knew where Jongho had his car parked, he drove a black Mercedes g-wagon, obviously gifted to him by his parents—which sort of put you in the delirium of understanding how wealthy his background was. Regardless, you guide yourself through the line-marked paths to the space where Jongho always parks his car.

He stood leaning against the driver's side, looking through his phone; the blaring light of his screen lit up a part of his face. His lips were fixed in a pout, seemingly in a deep thought about something or mindless panic. Either seemed unlikely because his face beamed when he noticed you walking towards him. The trifling thoughts of his prosperity were long overdue for you as you approached him. You couldn't help but let your lips tweak into a smile.

He was dressed in the same clothes you had seen him in before at the university; a black dress shirt and black trousers, with a checkered long coat covering his fit. As you've observed and had been making some remarks, Jongho did not like to reveal much of his skin and he would always remain covered from his neck down. You wouldn't mind seeing him wear a button down shirt, moreover with its few buttons undone at the top to expose his chest or a nimble of his skin. But, it was his preference and there wasn't much you could do about it.

"Took your own sweet time, didn't you?" he mocks, rushing to the passenger's side to open the door for you. "Never mind."

"I assumed we'd go directly after our final class, but I couldn't find you anywhere in the university." You muse, "where were you?"

"Ah, right. Yes, we did have a plan rather I was on my way to you, when I had a revelation and had to make a quick trip somewhere. So, I thought it's better to pick you up from the apartment," he explains, standing by the door, offering you a silly smile.

You hum along and he closes the door, and strolls to the other side, quickly slipping into the driver's seat. Amidst the darkness, you catch the twinkle in his eyes, and then the subtle nudge of his head implying for you to open the glove compartment.

"I got you something."

You shrug off any inconspicuous intentions he relied and pulled the compartment open. There was a tiny paper bag with a pink bunny printed on it. Upon holding it in your hand, the bag rattled with something inside, a box perhaps.

"What's in it?" you're skeptical, of course.

"Open it." His answer doesn't suffice your bubbling curiosity.

Pouting, you take the tiny little box out of the bag and stare at it a minute longer; a purple box with silver ribbon tied around and put in a bow at the top, it rattled with your hand as you tugged at the perfect bow and unravelled the ribbon around it. Your anticipation had no bounds, and you ached to know what was inside it. To your bewilderment, as you flip the top off, you find a tiny egg-shaped vibrator resting on lavender velvet sheets curled around it. You pinch it up in your hand and narrow your eyes at it first, then at Jongho.

He stifles a chuckle and leans over to fish out a small remote from the box, something you had failed to notice before.

"I have different preferences, Angel." he licks his lips, directing his lust-filled gaze onto you, "which at times involves all these things." He toys with the remote with his thumb, before snatching the vibrator from your hand. "Come on, get here."

He pats his lap twice, an easy indication you chose to follow without any hesitation or concern. Alright, not without an only concern: you'd be in public, possibly all night, would that mean...? You trembled as you crawled over the space where the gear selector was and rested your hands on one of his thighs. As your upper body was propped over his lap, your ass was sticking out in the air.

"You're okay with this, right?" he needs a confirmation from you, and you nod, biting your lip, "I mean, I am, but I didn't know you were into this, Jongho."

"There are lot other things you don't know about me, Ange," he whispers.

In a splinter of a second, he places the vibrator and the remote on the dashboard. Tracing a hand down your back, where his fingertips elicited shivers along your spine, he catches the hem of your dress in between his fingers and pulls it up to your back. Your dress rolls into the small of your back, while his fingers graze your inner thighs. His forefinger and middle finger run along the lines and slot themselves into your slit through your lacy panties, rubbing up and down—you let a mewl slip your lips, closing your eyes to the eerie sensation of his fingers rubbing you down.

Jongho was utterly delighted to hear your frail whimpers, your silly attempts to quiet yourself down while he worked you up. Not only that, he had caught up on the tiny wet patch on your panties.

"You were dripping even before I did anything to you," he instigates, "what were you thinking about? Or was it someone else?"

You shake your head, glancing at him, "it was you. All you." your voice turns breathy the more you speak and delve into the pleasure his fingers were proffering, "I—I was thinking what it'd be like to be under you...or—or on top of you."

"Oh," he mumbles, "you have a wild imagination, Angel."

His pace picks up, the tip of his fingers pressing further down against your slit and your folds; he takes a pause, however, and pushes your panties to the side. Grabbing the vibrator from the dashboard, he contemplates for a minute, while you're prefiguring a burning sensation in your cunt at its insertion. You clench around nothing, yearning to feel something to wrap your walls around; Jongho knows of your eagerness from Yunho and Seonghwa, who had given the others a glimpse of what exactly it was to fuck your tight little cunt, your mouth and your throat.

He wasn't going to give in to your desperation, not until he's played with you or riled you enough. From the slickness of your cunt, and how it coated your folds, he could tell the vibrator would slip just right in, without any impediments.

"Jongho, please..." you mumble under your breath, quite inaudible but his ears perk up to it.

He chortles, "honeybun, a minute please."

You gasp when you feel his other hand slapping your buttcheek lightly; he brings the same hand closer to your cunt, pushing two fingers past your folds and letting them slide inside. Only the tips of his fingers submerged in you at first, and then bit by bit he was knuckles deep, curling them inside to let his nails scratch your walls. His fingers did not reach as deep as Yunho's would, but they were reaching in enough to cause more of your wetness to spill out.

"I wonder why this cunt is still tight after being fucked by him..." Jongho groans, and your walls clench around his fingers even tighter than before.

It was the way he had brought up Yunho in the conversation, in an unseeming way to make you whimper.

"He's gotta have the biggest and the most girthy cock out of us all," he adds, mumbling, "well, Mingi comes in second to him. But—fuck—fuck, you're swallowing my fingers in, hun. Are you that eager?"

You hadn't realised when your walls had tautened around him, but you could feel the rapture of pleasure taking over you when his fingers kept thrusting further in.

Nodding your head, you mutter, "I want you."

"You're not getting me so easy," he titters softly, pulling his fingers out and you whine at the emptiness, "now, take a deep breath for me."

You do as told, taking a deep breath in, while Jongho adorned a admiring smile; he was picturing how divine you'd look squirming and wiggling around as he played with your cunt by using the vibrator. Hell, he even went as far to picture you under him with his cock thrusting in and out of your tight cunt, clenching tightly to milk out his orgasm. Jongho pushes those foreboding thoughts to a side and nudges the tip of the vibrator against your folds. The silicon head of the vibrator slips right in, eventually, it's entirely fit in your tight little hole with small ring sitting outside.

"Make sure it stays in, alright?" Jongho straightens your panties and gives a playful smack to your cunt before grabbing your jaw to forcefully make you face him. "If you don't, I'll punish you. You understand that?"

You nod your head vigorously, reassuring him and watch his lips curl into a sly smile. He licks his lips before leaning in and capturing yours with him. The kiss is slow at first, filled with his muffled mumbles while you're struggling to keep yourself up on his lap. He brings his hands to your waist and pulls you on his lap for you to straddle him properly. The space is confined, yet your legs are wrapped around his waist and your arms around his neck. You're deepening the kiss, pushing your lips further into his with your tongue caressing his lower one.

He parts his lips in amusement, and you take it as a perfect opportunity to slither your tongue in; both of your tongues are rubbing together, engulfing each other in the long awaiting warmth and desire. His fingers dig in your waist, leaving marks in your flesh, even through the dress you wore. Your body shudders immensely when you hear a click and the vibrator starts buzzing inside you. The vibrations were mellow, yet steady paced and drawling your body into a state of frenzy. You gasp and pull back from the kiss, reading the teasing smirk on Jongho's lips.

"This is just the beginning," he states, "well, we ought to leave now."

You crawl out of his lap and get into the passenger's seat, crossing your legs over to contain the vibrations and your wetness to seep out from your panties. You would definitely not like to ruin the leather seats.

"You're insane," you mumble under your breath, too bothered by the vibrations buzzing in your body and buckle yourself in while he does the same.

"Not quite," he adds, igniting the engine and revving it up, "you haven't witnessed the extremities of my insanity yet."

You suppress a moan and gander at him, eyes teary from the pleasure. He shrugs and drives out of the parking lot. The drive to the university is smooth and somber, Jongho blasted some soft euphoniums and a little bit something from the classical genre. His playlist was surprisingly good, but all you could focus on was the vibrator bustling in you and driving you closer to your edge. Though, you know better than to release your pent up tension in one go. You had to hold it in. Your life depended on it.

Jongho parks the car in the parking lot specifically meant for the fair; he kills the engine and draws his keys out before getting out first and then helping you. Your feet touch the ground and all that's been contained in your panties starts slipping out, trickling down your inner thighs. You didn't think you'd get so wet, never from the vibrator at least. This was torture. In fact, the slow vibrations were starting to feel more painful than pleasurable; you wanted him to speed it up, release you from your misery.

The fair was conducted on the large campus ground, which before was considered barren and dead; the lights, the haze and the peeks of the giant ferris wheel were all too exciting for you. As the two of you begin walking together, side by side, your hands interlaced, Jongho reads your mind. More likely, he reads the troubled lines on your forehead and the way your lips were twisted and trapped between your teeth.

"You're not cumming unless I say so," he states, leaning over to whisper it in your ear. "Hold it in."

You were definitely going to go crazy by the end of the night; more so than before because you had just caught a glimpse of him slipping his hand into the pocket of his pants. He was fiddling with the remote, aching to speed it up. The walk to the entrance of the fair from the parking lot was quite troublesome than you had anticipated. You were constantly met with passing students and others; however, the public was mostly limited to the university students. They had their eyes on you. And the fright of being discernible and perceivable was slowly creeping up your spine.

Jongho doesn't seem fazed by the situation, he drags you further into the crowds, the random stalls of neon and bright lights, and the detrimental chatters of the passersby. Many people occupied in the game stalls hooted and cheered, while some couples had found themselves an empty and dark alleyway to make out and carry out other physical activities. You could sense the scent of sex and sweat in the air, not too surprised because these things were pretty common in your university.

On either side of the gravelled pathway, there were countless stalls and tents of various games and playthings. Some stalls were selling antique and handcrafted items, while some were live artistic corners. The bright and broad fairy lights overhead and randomly situated lamps, were the only light sources for the beguiling night of moonless sky. Not exactly moonless for the moon to hide behind the clouds. Even when surrounded by the buzz of people, you hear a click and the vibrations in your cunt pick up their pace by a notch. You mewl, and gasp at the unprecedented change.

"Fuck, Jongho," you mumble, looking at him with blurry vision.

He muses, "what is it, dear? Do you need anything? Maybe something to drink, water, or anything else?"

His teasing sense of self was far more wretched than the situation you were put in. You swallow thickly and your eyes fall on a stall behind him; win a bear stall. The colourful and cuddly teddy bears lined along the top and some strewn below. Though your main focus was fixed on the pyramidal stacks of cups on a long bench and a play-gun rifle in the attendee's hand.

"What is it?" he mumbles and turns on his heels to trace your gaze to the stall. "Oh, that looks fun. Which one do you want? Come on..."

In a blink, he's dragging you by your hand toward the stall, keeping you close to him as you stand across the counter with the attendee offering you a small smile. There's an underlying confusion about how you were able to keep up with his fast feet, because in a sense your body was shuddering to the immense jolts of vibrations coming from between your legs. Your spine tingled in all odd ways, and as the night air chilled your bones, there was no way you could hold onto your urge to come undone.

"The pink one?" he asks, "or the brown one? Oh, the brown one looks classic and seems more cuddly."

Your lips form a soft pout as you glance up to look at the teddy bears hanging up on sort of clothesline. "You know what, the brown one resembles you."

"Ah, it really does, doesn't it?" he laughs out, fishing out a ten dollar bill. "I'll win it for you."

With a confident wink, he grabs the gun from the attendee and gets in stance. He places the rifle's butt over his shoulder—one of his hands slips under the forestock and the other one gently wraps around the trigger. The toy gun is already loaded with three pellets, each turn giving you three chances to hit and collapse the cups stacked. Jongho squints one of his eyes to get precision and pulls the trigger—he misses his first shot.

"Dang it!" he hisses, glancing over at you and offering you a light shrug of his shoulders. "I'll get the next one."

"I don't doubt that," you smirk, folding your hands over your chest and resisting the very urge to squeeze your legs together.

It was uncontrollable, the knot would soon form in your lower abdomen and strain your gut; this was torture in a cruel way, and Jongho was glad he was getting the worst out of you.

"Alright."

He misses his second shot too, forcing you to press on a chuckle because of course you didn't want to belittle him; either way, he wasn't brought down by your presence. Not dwelling for long on it, he aims again and shoots.

He misses the third time too.

"Again," he sneers at the attendee and flicks a ten-dollar bill at him.

This attempt leaves you and him a little hopeful; he hit two shots out of the three, both aimed at the lower ones. Only one cup stands, and that defeats the purpose of everything. Jongho continues to prolong his attempts, overall spending more than eighty dollars on it. During his last attempt, he gets in stance with his unwavering confidence and aims. This time, he topples down all the cups and gives you a haughty smile; the curve of his lips is satisfying for both of you, because for the time being he played, you were dying with the rough droning of the vibrator.

The attendee hands you the brown teddy bear you had been eying from the beginning; you hold it in your arms, hugging it close to your chest. It was warm, cuddly and cosy, just as you picture Jongho to be. You bury your face in the back of the teddy's head and sniff, it had a whiff of murk and a bit of dust. Jongho observes you closely and keenly, he wonders your purpose behind sniffing it; though, you know you would convince him to cuddle the bear so that it smells just like him, the scent you found weirdly alluring and pleasant. Jongho had a fine scent to him, more refined and sophisticated—a tinge of lavender with woody undertones. A lavish perfume indeed.

"You like it?" he questions you, stuffing both of his hands in his pockets.

"Hmhm, I love it, to be exact." You assure him with a smile, yet you were concerned and predicting whether he was fidgeting with the remote in his pocket or not.

"Would you like to eat something?" he adds, intertwining your hands. "I think I saw a stall selling corn dogs over there."

"Fried food would just cause me bloating," you whisper, unable to contain yourself while walking with him.

The pressure building between your legs was too much to dither any of his words or even your so-called cravings. You weren't exactly hungry, and while you're about to purport your theory of not wanting to eat anything, your eyes catch a glimpse of two men near a lamppost. Jongho's and your pace of stroll wasn't as fast as it'd be compared to being remarkable; you were blending with the crowd perfectly fine for the two others to notice you amidst the waves of it.

Yunho and Mingi, both tall giants were standing under a lamppost; Yunho's lips clasped a cigarette, its tip inflamed red while dusty white smoke levitates in air. You're keen on generalising them, noting how closely they stood to each other—moreover, they were sharing a blunt. You did not take them to be smokers, definitely not. Nonetheless, finding out an oddment about them doesn't make them any different in your eyes.

You catch yourself staring at them, having no ill intentions whatsoever, regardless you couldn't tear your eyes off them. There was something so ministerially ambiguous about them that you wanted to stare at them as long as you could. Jongho had not figured out where your gaze was, rather, he, himself was busy looking around to find some food stalls.

"Are they...?" you mumble, posing an outward question to Jongho.

He turns his head, "what did you say?" his eyes must've fallen over the two men you had been ogling for a while now. "Yunho and Mingi...? Right, they said they'd be here too."

"All by themselves?" you retort, crooning your neck to fixate yourself on Jongho's silhouette.

"Not exactly, I'm not sure about Yunho but Mingi has a girlfriend. So, it's probably both of them," Jongho mutters, staring back at you, "why do you think he isn't allied to our proposition?"

"Well for starters, he despises me. And also he considers me a whore."

Jongho chuckles, "not exactly. Look, his unresolved resentment towards you is his deal, to be fair. I don't have a say on that part. To the contrary of what you've already stipulated, Mingi does have a girlfriend."

He shrugs, "they're on and off a lot, awfully lot. The persistent back and forth is annoying. Trust me, you don't want to be on either side of it. I speak from experience."

"How does his relationship dynamic affect you, or as a matter of fact, any of you?" you raise another question.

"Hmm," he hums for a second, "I'll put it in a much better context. When they're away from each other, Mingi is a mess. When they're together, Mingi is still a mess."

"I shouldn't be pointing a finger at his relationship when mines pretty nonexistent. But, at times, Mingi's outbursts have been a little too personal to handle." He continues, "hence, they both push and pull till they're breaking each other apart."

"I suppose, it paints a picture in my mind with the context you're describing," you shrug, "Though, don't you think they're both toxic for each other?"

"A lot," he adds, "I'm not going to pretend I don't see it; alas, It's not my place to pass a judgment or say anything about them."

"Why not?"

"Because he doesn't like it," he laces your hands with his and pulls you into a different lane leading down to the humongous ferris wheel.

The strings of fairy lights overhead were endearing for their warmth and light. Although, taking a detour forced you to hold a last and longing glimpse of Yunho and Mingi; both who were waiting, sharing a blunt, dressed in jackets. Mingi had a denim jacket overlayed on his outfit, it leant more toward the causal point with baggy jeans and a fitting graphic tee. Where as Yunho wore a leather jacket, snug around his shoulders and chest and underneath was a red button shirt—with practically most of the buttons ripped open to expose his chest—and black pants. His faded blue hair glimmered under the light of the lamp, while Mingi's hair showed prominent streaks of gold amidst the pitch black. The fumes of the cigarette disappear once Yunho stubs it onto the stalk of the lamppost and flicks on the ground.

"What, are they...?" you halt in your steps, not because of the question you posed but rather because of what you had seen.

Turning a corner hadn't completely denied you of the other two's presence, they were still there in your vision line, both talking in themselves and grinning. You, however, had the worst of your curiosity pique your attention when you saw two women approaching them. A brunette, in her own haste, wrapped her arms around Mingi's neck and pulled him in for a kiss; whereas a red haired and much shorter to Yunho, hugged his chest and pressed a kiss to cheek, all while being on her tippy toes for him.

You could hear the sound of your heart shattering in your chest. Particular moments were blurring against you, but Jongho's voice was much soothing than the reveries you were threading along.

"Pay them little to no mind, Angel, please," he whispers, letting out a sigh then and thumbing a button on the remote in his pocket.

You were benumbed by what you had to witness prior, not noticing how dismally the vibrations had halted in your stead. One of Jongho's arms slides around your waist, while other traces small, easing, and gentle circles on your shoulder.

"I did not expect that," you swallow thickly, glancing at Jongho as your grip on the teddy bear grows tighter. "Well, I'm not even sure what I was expecting from him."

"Ange, it's—you don't have to keep expectations from either of us," Jongho sighs, "agreed, we all proposed an amoral bargain to you, and that's where it's at. It'll always be just that. If you're hopeful for something more with any of them, then you might be wrong. They're not wired that way."

"I can't say it on behalf of the others, and I don't care about them, as long as I get to love you."

"You—Jongho, what are you saying..." you shake your head in disbelief, wanting him to say something to justify himself but he doesn't give you an answer.

Rather, he's dragging you down the gravelled lane and you're trying to keep your steps in line with him; the stalls, the people, the unseeming chatters, zoom past you in a strange way. You're anticipating again, though there's nothing much left to when he brings you to the ferris wheel. You're protesting against it—you were terrified of heights.

"Jongho, I don't do well with heights..."

"You'll be fine, I'm here with you."

Your whines were in vain, because he's already buying tickets for the two of you; standing in the queue, you were still fixated on what you had seen. Was she, his girlfriend? Or someone he was seeking out as a significant other because you were only there for his sexual pleasure? Was he tired of you already? What was his deal?

"Angel?" you flinch when Jongho's warm hand cups your face, "I told you to not think about it."

"I'm trying not to," you lie.

And it shows he doesn't believe you. "I—just come with me."

Not much time passes till you and him are seated in a car, both sitting next to each other. The teddy bear is propped on your lap, holding close to your chest while you squint your eyes tight and rest your head onto its own. You were terrified of heights, and certainly did not like it when the wheel started moving, levitating you higher off the ground. Jongho's hand was intertwined with yours, and his other arm had been snaked around your shoulder to pull your body close to his chest. Your feet trembled, even without seeing how high you had been placed now; Jongho warmth was a constant however, alleviating the alarming thrill of being so high up in the air.

"When I first met you," he begins, causing you to raise your head and look at him. "I was beguiled by your presence, everything about you was just so damn charming and there I was, a basic man with a much basic aesthetic." He pauses for a second, leaning into rest his forehead over yours, "I was eager to be your friend and I know I had to take it slow because anything could scare you off. At least I thought so."

He takes a deep breath, "I've always considered you as the beautiful little butterfly I would chase around when I was a kid. It would never come to me. And the more I chased, the further it flew away. Never in my grasp. Later on I realised, I had to be patient and gentle with it. I had to let it know that I'm not going to harm it."

You couldn't help but smile, knowing how well he had distracted you from looking down, or even thinking about Yunho's ordeal.

"I could never hold the butterfly in the palm of my hand, and I probably didn't want to. You're that butterfly I keep running after and I know it too I can't keep you tied to me," he continues in a mere whisper, "look, it's beyond my control to tell others how they want to treat you. But, know that I'm not going to sit around and watch them manipulate you for their own gain. I'll always be here for you." His breath drawls and he steers his eyes off of you for a mere second, only for a second, and continues, "and if you feel betrayed by Yunho, then tell him, make it known. He likes women who are straightforward. So, give it to him straight. Though, there's no way in hell you're beating yourself up over that dickhead's actions."

"Okay?"

It almost makes you chuckle, his nonchalant way of bringing your spirits up; and not just that, he's sneaky enough to get his hand toying with the remote in his pocket. You take a deep, not knowing of his stealthy little trickery, and gradually brave yourself to look around. The view from the top was absolutely breathtaking, the citylights, the atmosphere, the distant details of your own university—everything was perfectly scenic. You're enjoying the view in itself, till you feel a familiar buzzing resound from between hour legs. Jongho's lips curve to a knowing smirk, delicate however playfully cruel.

"You...!" you squirm and clasp your lips tighter; with your fleet movement the capsule is sent in some motion as well. Leaping sideways, you hold onto Jongho's arm, constraining yourself closer to him.

He isn't surprised, moreover, he's revelling in your bodily shudders and quivers. It's almost impossible for him to control his untamed desire any longer, he needs you and he needs you now. Though, considering you're high in the sky, he probably won't do anything that's too brute or moronic. Instead, he finds you gazing up at him, tears coating your eyes and making them glassy; you nibbled on your lower and dared not to look away from him, for your own sake.

The vibrations were sending you to a place of pleasure, and pain; because of how constant and intense the buzz was, it was painfully obvious that it wasn't enough to make you cum. However, it was adequately diverting you closer to your edge. In a sense, you were on fence, with one side having the comfort of your post-orgasm, and other the torment of overstimulating yourself.

You wind up holding the teddy closer to your chest, eyes fluttering in an immense craving to feel his lips on his. And as if on cue, as if he had read your mind, he dives in. The mere contact at first is similar to a brush of feather, and then all hell breaks loose. He's pushing his lips further into yours, cupping your face with both of his hands to keep you fixed in a place while he deepens the kiss. Pure lust. All his desires were coming true, and mind you not, he had been waiting for this day for a long time.

A rumbling grunt is stuck in his chest and he forces his tongue into your mouth without any warning. The warmth of his tongue engulfs your own in a sloppy and wet mess, his hot breath fanning your cheeks and heating them up even more so—because he had just started to shove his tongue down your throat. You're agonisingly caught in a dilemma, one being so wretched and deep; what were you supposed to focus on, the buzzing in your cunt, the heat of his tongue proclaiming yours, or the wetness seeping out into your panties? Although, the most recent thought would be exempted from the list pleasure and put in a list of worries.

Suffocation stings your lungs and you pull back to take a deep breath in, lips wet, tongue abused by his own, and your heart palpitating in your confined chest. You're fucked, so fucked. All you could think of was how much longer would it take for you to writhe under him, in pleasure.

"Fuck, I need you, Jongho. I need you bad," you mumble, and lurch your head into his; the kiss resumes, heated, hot, passionate and painful with his canines sinking in your bottom lip.

"I don't think I can wait till I get back home," he murmurs against your lips and slides his hands down from your face.

"Then maybe we shouldn't."

Did that wreck his mind. But to put you in more discomfort, you were on a ferris wheel which rotated at a turtle's pace. The wait would have to be longer.

They say, good things come to those who wait. And you two had been waiting for this; the moment the ferris wheel hit the bottom, you were dragged out by Jongho, hand snug in yours. Somehow, you managed to have a hold on the teddy bear and his hand, a little muddled but equally excited to what he has planned. Sprinting down the same lanes and paths, he brings you to the parking lot—impatiently, he pulls you to his car and unlocks it to open the passenger's door.

"Jongho!" you gasp as he pushes you inside and haphazardly tries to strap you in.

"I'm sorry, I can't hold it in anymore, you know it too."

To help him, you do pull the strap over your head and click it in; Jongho rushes to the driver's side, he settles in and doesn't bother putting on his seatbelt. He revs up the engine and presses hard on gas. You're out of the parking lot in a blink of an eye, watching the scenery run you by. Still squirming and sobbing from the burning sensation in your lower abdomen, you bite down harshly on your lip. You were done for. So done for. You didn't care about anything but Jongho. You wanted him to break you in half, just the way he would break his breakfast apples in half. However, that seemed unlikely and quite cringe even to yourself.

The moments are dithered to nothing when you're thrown into the motion of the car stopping; he had hit the brakes all too sudden for you to catch yourself. When the daze subsides to your fully aware conscious, you find yourself amid an abandoned road, covered by trees and nothingness. It wasn't too stupefying to realise this road ran past behind your university, and hardly anyone ever took this route to get anywhere at all. The darkness surrounding both of you is sublime, and the nifty breezes of the night are drifting along the clouds to reveal a crescent moon stuck in the sky.

Without any hint of awareness, Jongho is out of his seat and is rushing to snatch you out as well. His grip on your forearm tightens and leaves behind a bruise as he pulls you into his body; the door closes behind you with a loud bang and he drags you to the back of the car. You stumble with his fast paced steps, slipping on the gravel underneath. But that's not your main concern; you're worried about Jongho's intentions when he pulls the rear cargo door open and pushes you inside. The backseat had been folded over to create more space in the back—he velvety surface under you was comforting and soft on your skin when you lay yourself down, propping your upper body up on your elbows to look at him.

Jongho grits his teeth, tugging the coat off of his shoulders and flings it next to you. "Never thought I'd indulge in this sort of thing, in nature too."

You nod your head vigorously, "yes—yes, I understand, now—please—please get it out of me. I need you."

The night air cuts through your skin, you spread your legs apart to show him the mess you were down there. He was not astonished to find your panties all slick and wet, rather, he had pictured what you'd be like to the inflicted stimulation; and what he had pictured in his mind, made his cock strain in his pants.

"Patience, honeybun," he coos, fishing out the remote from his pocket. He keeps it in his hand, while he rolls the sleeves of his shirt to his elbows. "What's the rush? We'll just ruin this beautiful night."

Click!

And your mouth falls open slack to the budding tension between your thighs; he had upped the setting to its highest, and the vibrator was moving impeccably fast inside you. Your body shudders and goes limp for a hot second before you clasp your eyes shut and fist your hands. The burning sensation in the pit of your stomach crawls up your spine and makes you squeal. You're done for, a few more minutes and you'd know how intensely the knot would untie.

"Hmm, quite the response I was hoping for," Jongho mutters under his breath, a teasing smirk curving his lips as he takes a step closer to you. "Your body is so intriguing and beautiful, Ange," he adds, "you are wildly intriguing. And I must say, it's going to be a joyride unravelling you."

You mumble in your broken state of mind, wanting nothing but him to give you the sense of relief you've been craving for. "Jon—Jongho, please, just, can you—will you please just—fuck, you're fucking a jerk."

"Uh-huh, got a foul mouth on you, do you?" he clicks his tongue, ghosting his touch along your arms to cup your face, "well guess what? Some other time, if you curse at me like that, you'll be getting the worst end of me."

"But for now, I'm going to let it slide."

He leans in to capture your lips with his, hungry, devouring with a fervent want for you. It was all too evident in the haste he carried in his actions; his hands were slipping from your face, tracing down to wrap them around your waist. Meanwhile, his tongue had already slithered past your lips, wetting your skin along the way. You don't care for the tongue, or the way his teeth were nibbling down on your lower lip, all you could focus on was the maddening purr of the vibrator stuck deep in your cunt. The way your flesh was sizzling because of the heat and daze of your orgasm reaching you, there was no way you could hold it in any longer.

Though, Jongho had other plans for you. His lips, entangled in yours, gradually trail down your jawline and neck, searing kisses and leaving behind deep suckles to bruise. You gasp, moan, whimper—you were on ninth cloud under his touch and had no clue how to voice your pleasure. Regardless, the whispering moans, and the voiceless groans, were a clear indication to Jongho that he had you where he had wanted you all along. Desperation had no bounds for you, rather, you did not understand what to anticipate anymore.

Too engrossed in alleviating the tension in the pit of your stomach, you growl and wrap your arms around his shoulders. The tighter you held on to him, the more relaxed you felt. Although, that might be an understatement since the vibrator had now started sending painful tremors throughout your body. You throw your head back, and angle it in such a way as for him to get better approach to sucking purple bruises on your skin. He doesn't waste any time in biting and licking your flesh, creating a myriad of hickeys down your neck and throat; you certainly did not expect Jongho to bruise or mark you like this.

He pulls back only a little, for the fraction of the minute to lower the setting on the vibrator. While he rummages his hands back onto you, tugging the hem of your dress up till your waist; his hands roam again, first cupping your tits through the dress and then pulling down on its neckline to tear it off. You gasp, hearing the sound of your dress being torn to shreds. Jongho suppresses a chuckle, he was in awe at how beautiful your chest was, and how full his hands were as they groped your tits.

"One day I'll be fucking these tits," he murmurs, out of breath, pinching your nipples through the cups of your bra. "But today, we ought to ruin your tight little cunt."

"Jongho—yes, please," you mewl in utmost desperation, wrapping your legs around his waist and bucking your hips to feel something of his crotch. "Ruin—ruin me, please. I want you to—I want you to fuck me dumb."

You don't know how you were able to string those words along, but you knew how urgently you wanted to feel full by his cock. The torment of delay in your release was slowly creeping up your spine and going right to your head. You were rendered senseless, and brainless, because the only thing on your mind was his cock which would soon thrust in and out of you.

Jongho is sly with his hands, he winds a hand around your back and unclasps your bra, swiftly letting it fall down; the tattered pieces of your dress flutter against the night air, chilling your skin and spine. But the miserable vibrations were still dragging out your release and the dire need to feel his cock in you. While you're in your head, thinking about him, the warmth of Jongho's hands engulfs your chest. His hands grope and knead your tits, thumbs rolling over your hardened nipples to over-stimulate you. The pleasure in between your legs and on your chest was soon turning into pain, anguish, torture.

"Alright alright," Jongho lets out a small laugh, sensing you heat up and shudder uncontrollably, "I'll grace you with my cock, that's what you want right—to be fucked dumb by me, and my cock?"

You nod your head, not caring about anything else in the world. Jongho couldn't really suppress his amusement and admiration for you; in a haste of his own excitement, he picks you up and settles down in the back himself. You're straddling his laps, eyes squinted tight and tears staining your cheeks. His hands were toying with your taut nipples, pinching them—bruising them a little red.

"You can ride my cock, can't you?" he smugly questions you, hands dragging down to either side of your waist.

To respond to him, you nod your head again and you receive a hot and hard slap to your tits.

"Words."

His grunt makes you snap your eyes open; more tears rush down your cheeks, but you didn't care as long as you were staring into his deep brown eyes. They were dark, intimidating, dominating—you quickly swallow and take a deep breath.

"I will—I want to ride your cock," you somehow stutter, but keep your gaze locked on him.

"Good girl," he praises you, sliding his hands under your dress to pull the panties off.

Rather, he doesn't pull them off at all. He holds at the flimsy and delicate straps of your panties and snaps them in two; the remaining fabric slips out of dress and falls onto the ground. You pout, when the realisation of him fully dressed comes to your mind. In a sudden moment, you fumble your hands to unbutton his shirt. Jongho titters softly before pushing your hands away and then tracing his along your thighs. He pushes the remnant of your dress, which apparently was only clinging on your lower half because of how ruthlessly he had ripped off the top and rubs a forefinger along your slit. He's glad to find your dripping wet, your slick coating his finger in beautiful sheer shade.

He pulls back his hand and lets the other rest on your waist. "Fuck, you really love to be teased, don't you? It makes you wet, right—when we fucking rile you, play with you and..." he pauses to let out a deep chuckle, "I can't fucking believe how wet you are right now, mewling for my cock—such a pretty little thing, my pretty little slut wanting to take my cock in."

His words were...provoking. They were fueling the want even more, and you know you couldn't control yourself any longer.

"Jongho, I'm so close. I'm really—fuck—I'm really fucking close." You are on the verge of crying, your voice breaking till it reaches him.

"Oh, hun. You're not going to cum until I say so," he says, whirring his words with a little satire. "And dare if you do..."

He trails, merely whispering as he quickly unbuckles his belt and then pulls the zipper down; while he's tugging on his pants, you start grinding on his crotch, wanting to feel more of his erection. You do feel his cock through his briefs, however for a short while as he wastes no time in pulling them down as well and letting his cock free from the confines. Glancing through your half-closed eyes, you watch his cock spring up and rest on lower abdomen; the tip adorns an alluring shade of red, glimmering with bits of precum and the veins on the shaft bulge out. He was girthy. As compared to Yunho and Seonghwa, he was a little smaller, but the girth compensated for it. The thought of your cunt being stretched around his cock brings butterflies in your stomach and you leak out even more, not forgetting about the vibrations either.

"Click a picture, hun. It'll last longer," he teases in a calm tone, "or maybe I should send you one."

You softly mumble something incoherent in your mind and nod your head without even realising what it was for. Jongho's hands slip down to your waist to stable your body before bucking his hips into yours. His girthy cock grinds onto your slit, the tip hitting your clit every time he rocked his hips up. You were driven into a frenzy from the heat of his cock rubbing on you and the buzzing of the vibrator inching you close to your orgasm. Though, Jongho toys with the remote again, after having fished it out from his pocket, and the setting lowers down a notch.

The silly pace of his cock grinding onto you makes you wrap your arms around his shoulders; you hold yourself in one place as Jongho buries his head in the crook of your neck. He leaves behind another couple of hickeys down your neck, and bites down on the ones he had already marked before. The wetness, the warmth, the touch of his tongue on your skin is all too much, in addition to the little endeavour he had taken on below. One of his hands slithers down to your thighs, gradually dragging closer to your cunt. He hooks his finger into the ring of vibrator hanging out to hold it place, while he nudges you with a bite on your neck.

"...just a minute, hun," he says, out of breath, palming the underside of your thighs to prop you up on your knees for a meagre moment. "Can you take it in?"

He questions you slyly, smoothening his thumbs on your skin to calm you down. You were taken aback by the question posed, rather than replying to him, you start sinking lower into his crotch. Carefully and gently, he aligns the tip of his cock with your cunt as you hold onto his shoulders to get much needed leverage.

"Fuckfuckfuckfuck..."

You're chanting breathlessly, feeling his cock stretch out your walls, and not only that, but the numbing vibrations from the vibrator were sending you into a sensory overdrive. The dilemma was off putting, not knowing how the vibrator and his cock were fitting inside your tiny cunt. To be fair, it was a minuscule device which fit snug inside, continuing to vibrate its way to your long awaited and a very painful orgasm. Jongho's hands crawl up to cup your butt for a second then delicately graze past to the small of your back to help your body against his.

"Fuck—just—just swallowing me in like that...?" he taunts, "no wonder—ah hell!" he grunts under his breath as he bottoms out in you, filling you up with his length and girth; mostly his girth. Chuckling softly, he murmurs, "haha, no wonder the guys are and were so eager to fuck you. Honestly—fucking hell—honestly, this was worth the wait."

You mewl, "Jongho—can't—can't take it—fuck, I don't think I can—"

"Oh, hun. You'll have to hold out. I can't have you ruining my—fuck."

You're resting your head on his shoulder, arms moving down to entwine around his chest; he bucks his hips into yours, letting his cock plunge into you as he feels your walls tighten around him. He knew he wouldn't last too long with you clenching him out. So, he rather gets to it without wasting much time. A moan shatters your lungs when he picks up his pace. Even you start grinding your hips onto his, rolling them in eights to intensify the pleasure. The mellow vibrations of the vibrator were merely any distraction now, especially since it was stimulating both of you.

The whimper you had trapped in the back of your throat comes rushing out—you hadn't realised how full you'd be till now, considering Jongho's cock pushed the vibrator further inside you with every long thrust. He kept his pace steady regardless wanting to ruin you completely. One of his arms slides up your back to rest on your neck, while the other drops down to your ass. The warmth of his fingertips skimming around your asscheeks.

You knew where it was headed but were too over your edge to realise it, not that you cared at this point. Breathing hard, you bury your face into his chest. Drool slips out of your open mouth every time you try to breathe out—it stains your chin and rolls down to soak his shirt. The urge to have nothing between the two of you was overwhelming, meaning the shirt had to go. Somehow, all while keeping the tempo of your hips straight, you fumble with the buttons of his shirt, eagerly pulling them apart. Your desperation was admirable to him, he even goes as far as to let out an amused chuckle before slapping your ass lightly.

"Want to see me without it?" he muses, "you should be honoured to see me like this, you know."

You nod your head and tug at the ends of his shirt, watching it slip off till his shoulders obstructed it entirely falling off. His chest was on full display, making you drool even more at the sight of his slightly chubby belly and fleshy chest. You could bury your face in between his pecs and nuzzle your nose deep into it; that's a newly found urge for you.

"Have a—you have a good—have a good body, Jongs." You stutter, trying to keep your rhythm in synch with his thrusts.

"Yeah, you think so?"

"Hmhm, it's cute—really fucking cute—I love—I love a little squish."

A small breathless titter crosses his lips and lets a smile stay behind. Jongho's brows contort together, eyes closing; he had been tipped off the edge, only so slightly to urge himself to speed it up. The rhythm of your hips falters to the budding tension in your gut, while Jongho's thrusts pick up their pace and become more pronounced than before. Moans slip into the heated air between you two, mouths merely apart from each other. You had the urge to bite down on his plump lips, turn them a prominent shade of crimson but your thoughts are cut off by him when his finger protrudes into your other hole.

Your lungs crumple with a gasp, wanting to breathe again to ease out the stretch of your virgin hole; it was unlikely how comfortably his finger was slipping in, considering you had never been penetrated or done anything involving it.

"Jongho—Jongho, a little—a little faster, please," you mutter under your breath, feeling a little restless and overwhelmed by the pleasure washing over your body.

He chortles, heavy from the exertion, "desperate to cum, are we? Let's—let's grant you your wishes then."

Huffing out a breath, you nod your head in a daze while his cock plunges deep into you, although you were mostly losing yourself to the way his cock stretched you out and his finger playing with your hole. He lets his finger curl inside, pushing on the delicate wall of flesh between both of your holes; you were trembling with the urge to just come undone, having ceased your movements altogether. You let him do the work, let him buck his hips into yours. Your cunt swelled up to the tip of his cock pushing deeper, while his finger continued to press forward, confining his cock to your cervix, while it slid in and out. The way he had gotten you to tighten around him was clearly bringing his own high to the play.

"I'm going to—I'm so close, Jongs," you moan, wrapping your arms around his shoulder and burying your face into his chest. You were indeed close, feeling the burning sensation consume the pit of your stomach before straining one last time.

His half-lidded eyes fixate down on you, on how your lips were trapped under your teeth and how your eyes were squinted tight—he knew your orgasm was only a thrust away. Fumbling around to hold your waist with his free hand, he ruts his cock into you, letting it plunge a little further than before. You clench around him, urging to milk his cum out while he was buried so deep inside you. It takes for one drawling thrust of his to make you come undone, the knot appeasing itself in your gut while your juices dribble down and make a splash.

"Fuck, baby—you just—you just made a big mess on my cock."

Jongho suppresses an amused chuckle, noticing how your body quivered in his hold while he continued with his thrusts. You could feel him pulsate, sending tremors to your spine and mind; he throbs immensely as he moves, rocking his hips at an untamed pace to chase his high. Your clenching cunt was enough to tip him off, but the way he was playing with both of your holes and using the other to tauten your walls even better, made him curse out in a mere whisper before spilling himself into you, his cock twitching uncontrollably, still buried in you. The lurching waves of his orgasm get caught in your velvet walls, his warmth fills you up and while some leaks down your slick thighs, he empties himself completely into you.

"That..." he trails off, nudging your arm to pull you back, "everything's okay, right?"

You nod, arching your back to feel his limp cock and his finger sliding out of you. "I'm fine—but this—holy fuck, we—we should've done this sooner, don't you think?"

"You're telling me?" he scoffs, tangling his hands around your waist and letting them rest on the small of your back. "No wonder we had so much sexual tension trapped between us. The wait was worth it."

In the cold night breeze, you heave out a warm breath and peck his lips, giggling softly. "Indeed it was."

You're both breathless for a moment, arrested in each other's embrace to even feel the cold night air nipping at your bare skin. Jongho helps you crawl out of his lap and then, proceeds to lay you down, propping you up against the folded seats. Carefully, and gently, he pulls out the vibrator and flings it to a side; he then cleans you up, roughly with his handkerchief and drapes your body with his long coat. He promises to clean you up properly when the two of you get back home and you hold it against him.

Having a dizzy smile on your face the whole ride back to the apartment, you couldn't help yourself but ponder on the meagre feelings you felt towards Jongho. The untimely yet expected emotions bubbled under your skin because you had always wanted to be somebody to him. Jongho may not have a keen interest in expressing himself well, but he does it for you, he becomes a little more vocal when he's around you and takes pride in his kinks and desires. He knows what he wants from you and you know what you want from him; the two of you were strung together in a web of affection, perhaps even love.

In mere an hour, you find yourself in the apartment, in the darkened vestibule leading to the living room, muffling your feet against the floor till you're in the kitchen. There's no one lurking around, no sounds reverberate either, making you assume that everyone had fallen asleep. Though, it's the not same when Jongho closes the door behind him, causing a thud to collapse the absolute silence of the house—he clicks his tongue before putting his car keys in their designated place and wandering off to the kitchen with you.

He hugs you from behind and rests his chin on your shoulder, peeking over to observe your musings. The refrigerator was wide open, beams of light flooding out to fall on your faces—you were contemplating on picking out a snack; as usual, Seonghwa would keep a few containers of chopped fruits for you and the others, in case anyone had their hunger roiling their stomach in the middle of the night. You pick out a container consisting of chopped melon, and Jongho groans softly near your ear. Rolling your eyes, you put the container back and instead pick out an other one containing neatly diced papaya and watermelon. You're about to turn around and leave, when another set of footsteps emerge into the kitchen, sounding from behind you.

You grasp onto the refrigerator door, realising it was Yunho, shirtless, walking towards one of the cabinet counters to pull out a drawer; he rummages thoroughly through it, searching for something whilst his foreboding conscience wasn't fazed by you two. Something crinkles in the sullen serenity, and your attention falls onto a glimmering, foil-like, square pinched in his fingers. You had a clear doubt about what it was—nothing else shines like that, and what else would he need in the middle of the night if not that?

But you were proved wrong when he tore off the crinkly packet and pulled out, what deemed like, a candy. He popped it in his mouth and turned on his heels to walk out, not before addressing something to you two.

"As I said in the morning, don't fucking spoil the kitchen, ya freaks."

With that he leaves and you roll your eyes, Jongho lets out an amused laugh instead. "Next time, maybe?"

"Sure."

Though you were smiling back at Jongho, you couldn't really comprehend how possessive and overly envious you were getting over Yunho, and today's suspicion casts you a different light to see him through. Besides, the way your arrangement had been made with these seven men, you were worried about getting hurt by either of them. Because you never really had any luck with relationships—or the unrequited type of love.

To your uncertainty, Jongho flips you over and pushes you against the refrigerator, closing the door in the process. He buries his head into your neck, and peppers your skin with soft kisses.

"Round two in the shower?" he poses you a question and you let out a soft moan, "uh, Jongho..."

"Aw, is my honeybun tired?" he coos, biting a good chunk of your flesh.

You weren't. You just weren't in the mood after seeing Yunho like that.

"Not really," you answer, sighing softly, "well, you better make it quick." You knew he was grinning ear to ear, tracing it along your skin as it widens.

"Don't think that's possible, but no promises."

And your lazy eyes catch the glimpse of the teddy bear he had won for you, giving you the sense of comfort before slipping into the memories of the night, the same which happened a few minutes ago. Jongho was definitely going to ruin you, however you wondered if there was ever going to be anything more to you and Yunho in this arrangement. You smile at Jongho and let your lips spell out,

"My crazy, sex starved bear."

Chapter Text

The warmth of the lazy sunshine creeps up your face, creating a stark contrast beneath your eyelids, in a way to wake you up. Remaining slumber in your head forces you to squint your eyes even harder, absolutely resenting the thought of getting out of bed, or in your case, your futon. The mattress which sinks to your weight, however a little rigid, is still comfortable enough to lull you back into sleep. You could presumably put yourself back to the daze of your dreams and live them for a few more hours, a thought only tempting you to groan and whine. Sunday mornings at dorms, for you, were the best days considering how you would wake up in the late afternoon and munch on random things you found in your mini fridge.

Sadly, things have changed. Situations have been flipped over; just as like the burnt pancake you made yesterday morning, finding one side perfectly fine but the other coated in coal of the pan. It is what your life is, currently. And speaking of which, you had no jolly expectations to continue your dreams when your gut already knows someone or the other is waiting on the other side of the door to jump on you. The muffled sounds, precisely of uncertain whispers, have already put you on a look out for any prospect annoyance you might encounter.

And to your unbridled and dismayed surprise, the door creaks open inside to be followed by thundering footsteps of two individuals.

"Rise and shine, Angel!!" you could never not be used to Wooyoung's pitched voice when he yells or screams.

"Wake up sleepy head." Someone grumbles, sounding closer to you than Wooyoung.

You open your eyes a little and narrow them in the direction of the havocking sounds of the two. Seemingly, San stood by the foot of your futon while Wooyoung rummaged through your closet; he flings a few clothes on his shoulder, before closing the doors shut.

"Get out!"

Groaning, you grab onto the pillow under your head and toss it, aiming for Wooyoung's head. In all honesty, the pillow lands sharp against his face. San, who had just witnessed minor violence playing out between you two, takes a step back and rolls his eyes. Wooyoung, on the other hand, holds the pillow as it falls in his hands and hops onto the tenuous futon. The mattress dips to his weight, sinking you further down.

"Oh, that's fucking rude, Angel," he sings along, closely to your ear. "Just wake up already."

"Five more minutes. Please," you whine, dragging your words in an attempt to sound more desperate.

You're closing your eyes, pulling the sheets over to cover your head—already in the process of going back to sleep when Wooyoung's warmth spreads on your shoulders. He flips you over on the mattress, laying you on your back while he straddles your waist. If his irking voice hadn't woken you up enough, then this certainly had. Gazing up at Wooyoung with your half-lidded eyes, you wonder how close you two had gotten too—as compared to the others. There was no doubt you would get along with everyone else as well, but for now you could only rely on few people.

"What, no!" Wooyoung muses, "your five minutes will turn into an hour, I know it so."

"Oh, come on. Please." You grumble, swatting one of your hands in the hair, blindly, to get hit him. Of course, you don't even touch him. "I and Jongho were up all night."

"What were you doin'?" San pipes in from the back, "okay, I certainly did not think Jongho could go all night."

"Get your mind out of the gutter," you shot back at him.

"Is that so," Wooyoung adds, "what were you two really doing then?"

"Ugh," you groan, "curiosity kills the cat, Woo. But if you're so desperate..."

At this point, all your remaining sleep had been drained out of you. Again, you wouldn't really think of sleeping when Wooyoung's crotch was directly grinding on your lower abdomen, tingling your stomach with a different urge. He's leaning down over, close to your face with his lips curled in a smirk; warm touches ghost along the length of your arms as he traces his hands to intertwine with yours. Tight grip holds your fingers in a grasp and without any hesitation, he pins your arms over your head.

"I'm desperate for many things, Angel," he whispers to your face, lips hovering over yours in an attempt to bite them. "You shouldn't concern yourself with that. The more you tease the fire, the more likely you are to get yourself burned. Isn't it? Do you want to get burned, doll?"

You smirk, scoffing, "then maybe in our next lesson we should learn about not teasing the fire too much, hmm?"

"Oh, you'll be learning a lot of things in our next lesson," he grumbles, rolling his hips into yours to have you feel his limp cock, gradually starting to harden in his shorts.

Your cheeks heat up, flustered thinking about his said notions; it had been a few days since you asked him for his help with cooking lessons. The unlikely thought of you not being able to cook was delirious to Wooyoung the most out of all—so he suggested to teach you, take daily lessons and explain the very basic techniques you required in the kitchen. Regardless of how well the lessons were given, you couldn't deny the sexual tension between you two, which happened to grow day after day with your uncertain sexual innuendos and flirtatious attitude towards him.

Wooyoung doesn't stop after seeing you flustered or crooning your head to hide your reddened cheeks in the sheets under you, he purposely starts grinding his hips against your pelvis to get the much-needed friction. You groan out softly, lips trembling when you catch him smirking down at you with the most lustful expression on his face; his lips curl further into his cheek, hands trapping yours against the mattress overhead, and his cock sliding up and down your clothed cunt. You could feel him straining in his shorts, turning hard with every mere thrust he made.

"Wooyoung, stop..." your voice falters to a whisper, eyes closing shut and back arching to buck your hips into his a little more. "Please."

The desperation in your voice is a turn on to him. "You're jerking your hips to mine, doll. Are you sure you want me to stop?"

"Yes," you lie.

Of course you wanted more. But given San was standing still in the room, with his gaze directed towards you, observing every inch of your body getting aroused, was a bit more humiliating than admitting you'd want Wooyoung to continue.

"Sorry to interrupt your little endeavour of getting off, Woo, but we were supposed to get her out of the bed, not fuck her in the bed." San grumbles, folding his arms over his chest, annoyance creeping up his chest. "You don't want to go against Hongjoong's word, do you?"

"Are you trying to scare me off with that?" Wooyoung scoffs, ceasing the rhythm of his hips before sitting himself straighter on your waist. He glances back over his shoulder, "so pathetic, Sannie."

San rolls his eyes as a response and puts his hands up in surrender. "Do what you want to, I'm leaving. And you better get her out of that bed before anyone else comes in to do the task you were given."

"Roger that," he salutes San with two fingers and watches him walk out the room; you do too, bemusedly mulling over his words, you find him out with the door closing with a bang.

As soon as the very last echoes of door closing reverberate in the air, Wooyoung holds both of your hands in one and slides the other down to your face. First, he cups your face, then he traces his rugged fingers along your lips, he traces them further down your chin, your neck and halts when he caresses your collarbones. Right above where the neckline of your oversized shirt starts, his forefinger grazes your skin, in a way to press into it before going down in between the valley of your chest.

"No bra?" he muses, tugging on one of your tits. He clicks his tongue then, not stopping with his intentions, "do you know how much attention you'd get downstairs if you come like this? I don't mind, perse. But consider their hawk-like eyes strained on your chest."

"Wooyoung, come on. You can't really be this horny so early in the morning." You groan again, in despair of how wet your cunt was from his actions.

"Morning is the best time to fuck," he grunts, "and afternoon too, well can't go wrong with an evening quickie—but nights are better and more ideal, don't you think?"

"You want to fuck all day?" you whimper, feeling his hand now completely palm your tit to grope it tight.

"Can you keep up with that?" he retorts, chuckling thereafter, "none of the women I've slept with in the past have been able to keep up with me."

"You're a freak that's why," you throw your head back, murmuring.

Wooyoung's hand had encompassed its warmth on your tit, squeezing it tighter before pinching on your hardened nipple. "No doubt. I am a freak; I take my pride in it. You are yet to see just how freaky I can get."

He lets go of your hand and instead uses both of them to lift your shirt up till your neck, letting it pool on your collarbones. In a haste you bring your hands to keep the shirt in place while you suckle in a deep breath, anticipating what he'd do next. Wooyoung was an attractive man, absolutely breathtaking with his ebony hair half dyed in blond, which he apparently called it 'Oreo hair', the straighter lips he'd use to tease the hell out of you, and the seemingly two-toned eyes which change their character as desired.

"I can be freakier," you pout, bucking your hips into his, your soaked cunt rubbing against his rigid cock.

"Hmm, really?" he mocks you, leaning in to press a kiss under your jaw. "I'd love to see that happen."

You bring your hands to his shoulders and then slide them up to grasp onto his neck, fingers intertwining with the hair strands which rest firmly on the nape. His lips travel further down, sloppily tracing and pressing to the centre of your collarbones before dropping to your chest. Kissing your sternum with wet and soft lips, running his tongue along the way, he keeps his hands fixed to your waist. The exhilaration of him moving his hands even below, perhaps to feel how wet you were through your panties, forces you to moan.

"Moaning already? I've barely done anything, Angel." He adds, "I wonder what a mess you'd be when I'd be railing the fuck out of you."

"Stop it..." you mewl, raising yourself slightly up to brush your lips against his. "Or else we might not get out of this bed at all."

"Bed? I'm not interested in fucking you on this easily breakable futon," he smirks, diving into a short-lived kiss again.

Heaving out a playful sigh, he pulls your shirt down and covers you whole; crawling back out of the bed, he holds your clothes, the ones which he had flung over his shoulder before and prompts you towards the bathroom door. For some reason, you couldn't turn away from the little tent in his shorts, how his cock was straining in all its glory through it.

"Get freshened up, we need you downstairs."

"We?" you repeat to yourself in a little moment of confusion.

"Yeah, us." He chortles, "now, get out of bed before I drag you out of there."

Hopping out of the bed was a little tedious as you didn't want to bid farewell to the warmth and the prospect sleep, you'd be getting if you tried to rest your eyes for mere minutes. Regardless, you jump on your feet, neaten up the futon and the sheets before stumbling your way to Wooyoung. He hands you your clothes which did not consist of any underwear, but rather only a pair of shorts and a comfy looking top. Your brows scrunch together in bewilderment as you stare at him.

"No underwear," he smugly spells out, licking his lower lip. "Gotta get used to it, somehow. I'll be waiting for you downstairs then."

You watch him, wide mouthed, exiting the room; well, he did offer your butt a nice searing spank before leaving, which would tell why you had your jaw hanging low rather than pressing your lips together to contain your sensuality. Without wasting any time, you get inside the bathroom and initiate with your morning routine.

Standing in your room while you get settled into the clothes Wooyoung had picked out for you, you contemplate a little before flicking your wet towel on the drying stand near the window and going bits of your skincare. Once you know you smelled good, had your hair flowing down on your shoulder, and your lips moisturised properly, you head out. Climbing down the stairs, you were starting to get uncomfortable with how the clothes were sticking to your body; how the shorts were snug on your cunt to show off your folds, and how the top was too sheer to reveal the alluring shade of your areolae and pebbled nipples.

Jerk. He picked out these for a purpose.

And you were just understanding his sly underlying intentions when seven pairs of eyes were casted on you, studying you, reading every movement of yours with a hunger in them. Their loud and somewhat murmured chatters quiet down the moment you walk in. The living room was occupied by four people at the most; Yunho, Yeosang, Hongjoong and Wooyoung were seated in the living room, with Wooyoung perched on the floor by the foot of the couch. You find San and Jongho sitting on the dining table, stuffing their mouths with breakfast while Seonghwa was humming tunes in the kitchen, probably cooking breakfast. Hongjoong's arms were draped over Wooyoung's shoulders, his painted fingernails skimming over the straps of his tank top as he whispered something in tongues to him. Yunho and Yeosang were distanced, with Yeosang sitting on the chair instead, having his laptop propped on his lap. He usually doesn't really bother with you, but right now his eyes were glued to you. As a matter of fact, everyone was—and yet you did not feel too uncomfortable under their gazes, considering they were strangers and strangely infatuated with you.

The apparent men were in your direct view, their eyes never leaving your moving figure as you prance toward them. Hongjoong's lips curl in a ribald smile, prompting you with his head to sit in the empty space on the other side of the coffee table. Begrudgingly, you do as told, sitting down on the other side of the table, crossing your legs to sit in more likely asian manner—it made you feel small compared to them sitting on an elevated platform. They towered over you, making you submit without any hesitation; as for Wooyoung, he passed on a suggestive wink to you. You didn't bother glancing over at Yunho, you were still queasy about the whole 'fest-night' ordeal with him. Besides, for the past few days, you had been making it known to him, avoiding him whenever you could. He wasn't a dense clod to not understand your trickeries, he grew aware of your tactic every time you tried to make it seem like you didn't want to be alone with him. For instance, last Thursday, when one by one, everyone was leaving the living room while playing, or considerably finding the board game you picked out, mundane, you didn't want to be stuck with him who apparently had no problem 'playing' the game with you. Of course, your jealous-ass made an impulse decision, you put the game aside and called it a night.

Hongjoong clears his throat to bring your attention to him, relaxing back into the couch and then his words flow out, deep and coarse.

"First and foremost, we don't like tardy people in this house."

Ouch. It was a personal attack. You swallow thickly, perceiving the note of seriousness to his words and voice, discerning how authoritative it seemed to you as compared to others.

"I slept in for two hours more, is it that bad?" you pout, whining softly as your brows crease together.

Hongjoong finds it absolutely adorable, how you were acting cheerfully childish. He lets out a chuckle, shaking his head before licking his lips. "Darling, I am only stating the ground rules. Of course, you can sleep in. I have no issues you with spending most your time in bed."

"What ground rules?" you question, catching up on those first and later onto the sexual innuendo he had alluded to.

"Some basics about how we all live here," Yunho shrugs. "Something you should know too, now that you're living with us."

You don't look his way, even if you did have the urge to—heck, this was hard, you would have to sort this out soon or else you'd be kissing him goodbye. Nodding silently, you fixate your gaze on Hongjoong, who runs his hand through his faded blue hair (now also showing his black roots) and stifles a scoff. It wasn't that no one was aware of you avoiding Yunho, they found it quite odd and interesting. Hongjoong too, factly as because he is least interested in the house drama, found you and Yunho's affinity get obsolete.

Hongjoong continues, "as per my understanding, you have agreed to our proposition, and it seems you are a little uncertain about our preferences and so-called kinks."

"It's better to have a starter guide." Wooyoung smiles, slyly enunciating his words, "to get you accustomed to our likes, dislikes and unconventional tastes. And for us to know your limits and how much we can push you."

"Besides, I believe it's better if we inform you beforehand and then see if you'll be still willing to be our partner." Seonghwa speaks up, walking in from the kitchen with a blue ceramic plate in his hand. He puts the plate down in front of you, wafts of sweet aroma buzzing your nose, waffles with maple syrup. "Eat up, cooked these for you, specially." He leans over and kisses your forehead, smiling in his cheeks as he walks to the couch.

Seonghwa sits on the other side of Hongjoong, making him the take the centre space; San and Jongho, who were still in the dining lounge, now stride in and make themselves comfortable on the ground. San scoots close to Wooyoung while Jongho is pushed up against the couch and Yunho's leg. Your eyes run across all of them, all of the seven men interested in having you as their little plaything. They were all freshly showered, having clean looks to them, dressed casually in sweatshirts and sweatpants or shorts, exception Seonghwa; Wooyoung having been dressed in a tank top and grey shorts, San with his fluffy yellow hoodie and black shorts, Jongho fully covered in a brown turtleneck cardigan and joggers, Yunho wearing a grey sweatshirt and grey joggers, Yeosang flaunting his obsession with black by wearing a black tank top and layering with a black jacket—of course with black sweatpants, and Hongjoong adorning a black half-sleeved shirt and pastel blue shorts. In contrast to them, Seonghwa wore a royal blue dress shirt and black trousers, as if he was ready to be elsewhere than here.

You offer them a timid nod before grabbing the fork and cutting through the three stacks of waffles; upon putting it in your mouth, the buttery taste melts in your mouth and sweet of the maple syrup overcomes all. This delightful breakfast was going to be accompanied by their talks on sex and kinks, how ironically hellfire was that going to be for you.

"I'll state some common rules before all of us, individually, talks about our kinks and preferences," Hongjoong begins, "first of all, under all circumstances, must you voice your discomfort and distress regarding any activity you might or may be engaging yourself in. We like to keep it consensual and more importantly, it's all in vain if you aren't deriving any pleasure from it."

Hongjoong's eyes are fixated on you, drinking your body whole as you eat your breakfast, incredibly slow to let it prolong its taste in your mouth. He adds further on, "second thing, as much as we are rough and untamed in bed, we're as much caring—so aftercare will be sought to and you will be taken care of after every session with whoever. Third, if it makes you comfortable, we might ask you to not wear any underwear for specific and allotted time of the day—only if you're comfortable with it."

Him emphasising little details in his words makes you melt; you were already aware how caring they are, obviously from the past few endeavours with Yunho, Seonghwa and Jongho. There was no doubt you'd ever feel uncomfortable around them, not when you're as equally freaky as them.

Hongjoong glances over at Seonghwa for a beat before turning back to you, "fourth, none of us are diagnosed with any STD's, you can see our test results for yourself if you want to—" he pushes a set of papers towards, which were kept on the coffee table for a long time— "fifth, a little crucial detail about us. We do not prefer using condoms most of the time. So, we'd very much appreciate you being on the pill and abiding by it."

He offers you a tight lipped smile, stretching wide as he turns to Seonghwa. The said man takes it as a cue and clears his throat before proceeding.

"Hey Angel," he greets you softly, eyes crinkling by the corners as he studies you for a second before continuing, "I'm assuming you like what I've cooked for you?"

You nod, sliding the fork out of your mouth, "it tastes great."

"Aw thank you," he chimes, "glad to see you enjoying it. Now, to give you a little perspective about me, I'm a soft dom. I like praising and loving my partner—don't like to force them, or to be too rough with them. If I may, I'm very much into the "dom daddy little girl" dynamic. You'll be pampered thoroughly by me and I'll also be looking after you, whatever you need—love to spoil my little girl."

You grow flustered by him and his definitions, stringing you along to your la la land once you've found yourself fantasising. Licking the fork, quite in a teasing manner with your tongue twisting and twirling around the tines to clean the syrup off, you keep your eyes on Seonghwa. He crosses his legs over and then places his hands on one knee; tilting his head to a side, an endearing curve sculpts his lips.

He chuckles, "you seem to enjoy your breakfast a little too much, don't you, sweetheart?"

You couldn't describe what exactly you felt, but the tingles running adrift in your cunt causes your slick to seep out and drench your shorts. You want to squeeze your thighs together, want to feel the bit of friction that could appease the building tension. Though, is this how it was going to go between you? Them, talking about their kinks and likes, while you listen to them, fantasise and picture everything vividly in your mind. It better not be like that.

Nodding, you mewl, "it tastes too good not to."

"Always eager," Yunho pipes in, "always desperate and hungry."

The innocent ruse to ignore that man for as long as you could, falls to shambles when you hear his conceited voice. His attempt at tipping you off to his husky and heavy tone was far too successful in torturing you. There could be times when you ached to talk to him, hear his voice but considering your heart's wishes, you were determined to give him hell. At least you thought you were.

"Yunho, don't tease her." Hongjoong clicks his tongue, warning him. "Who wants to go next?"

"Let me," Yeosang speaks up, keeping his laptop on the coffee table and picking up a folder instead. "I don't talk a lot, you've noticed it."

He scoots to the edge of the chair, sliding the folder towards you. "So, I'll keep it short and simple. What you have in front of you, is a contract. A master-slave contract, if you will. Read through it, carefully and thoroughly. Ask me if you fall short on understanding something. When done, sign it and hand it back to me." Eloquently, letting his words flow, he offers you a smile and continues, "oh, and the terms are non-negotiable, so do think hard and well before signing it."

You nod, gulping down the piece of waffle stuck in your throat.

"Aw, Sangie, you scared her. Look, she's got Bambi eyes." Wooyoung comments, giving his words a nice swirl of satire. "Her legs are trembling too, like it did when Bambi tried to learn how to walk."

"Shut up, Wooyoung," San grumbles from beside him and the latter immediately mimics zipping his lips. San strains his eyes on you; he licks his lips, and lets the tip of his tongue stick out on his lower lip. "I—I don't have any serious kinks, but—but, I'm into—I like both, dominating and being dominated. I'm, as what they call, a switch."

"Oh," your lips round themselves. You're almost done with your breakfast, having licked the plate clean, not even a smudge of syrup remains. "That's intriguing."

"Perhaps," San continues, "I somewhat lean more towards being submissive." He fidgets with his fingers, "I'd let you take the charge whenever you'd want to, I wouldn't mind."

You nod in understanding, hesitating however, "but, I never really adapted myself to take charge..."

Jongho chimes in, "so? it's not a big deal. You'll learn along the way, it'll be a part of your experience."

"Jongho's right," Hongjoong reassures you with a dainty smile, "once you're stuck with any of the guys who are submissive, you'll find your way. It would come to you naturally."

"Okay," you trail off, meeting eyes with San again who has a dimpled smile on his face, "it'll be fine, sunshine. You already have an elaborate imagination."

"Vile too," Yunho remarks, "I bet she's thinking about you, Woo. Look at her squeezing her thighs."

"I was wondering the same—" Wooyoung huffs out a breath once he crawls over San and makes it you on his all fours. Prancing like a predator stalking its prey. "What has gotten you so...worked up, doll?" he licks his lips, sliding his body behind you.

"Nothing..." you murmur.

Without any warning, his arms snake around your waist, one propping itself slightly above and one below. He toys with the hem of your shirt, and buries his head in the crook of your neck, suckling to create purple bruises against your skin. You moan softly, rapturing to his touches and how wet you were starting to get. There was no doubt you were dripping through your shorts, not particularly when Wooyoung's other hand slips past the waistband of your shorts and his fingers rub along your folds.

"Woo..." you whimper, closing your eyes and throwing your head behind on his shoulder, your neck arches and so does your back, urging to get something more out of his fingers.

"I told you she's desperate," you hear Yunho make a comment, receiving sounds of agreement and laughter.

"I think we should let her know that Wooyoung is a freak, seemingly a wild card." Jongho utters, and you catch him shaking his head through your lidded eyes.

"She already knows that, baby bear," Wooyoung chuckles, sinking his teeth in your flesh and biting it hard. "But I'll elaborate," he presses his lips to your neck, "I like being rough, domineering. I don't like to force submission on to my partners however, but I also don't like bratty behaviour in bed. So, you better be a good girl for me, Angel or else I'll have to be a mean little fox to you." He sings so smugly, "since I have a reputation of being a little freaky, you might see me indulging in some unconventional stuff, but that doesn't mean you have to force yourself to do it with me because I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

Engaging you in a talk, Wooyoung's hand slides under your top and traces along your skin to grope your tits. His hand is full of your luscious flesh, fingers rolling and abusing your nipple as he does.

"Okay," you whisper between your breaths, wanting this placid paced torture to end for your own good.

Listening to his dark chuckle resonate deep in your ear, your heart palpates harder at the anticipation; he doesn't exceed his desires, keeping his actions teasingly slow to push you past your threshold for pain and pleasure. Unfortunately, with how mellow paced his ministrations were, your pleasure was construing itself on the border of pain and suffering. Wooyoung's lips ghost over your abused soft spot, skimming them across your neck to whisper a dainty string of words in your ear.

"You've drenched your shorts, doll." he adds softly then, "unfortunate for us, we have so many spectators who are waiting to gawk at how desperately you'd beg for my cock." Sniffing at your skin, he nudges the tip of his nose along the back of your ear, his breath wispy and uncontrolled, "they are eager to drool on your bare body, to rub themselves off watching your tiny cunt get destroyed by me."

Wooyoung pulls his hand out from between your thighs, feeling a sudden sense of emptiness. His cock had been straining against your back all this time, poking and stabbing, showing you how stiff he was from then. In a darker sense of your mind, you wouldn't protest against any of his said notions; if he wants to fuck you on the table, in front of everyone, then he can rightfully so, and it'd be consensual too.

You're about to voice your thoughts when Yunho's words boom from a distance, "Wooyoung. I think we all agreed to keep our dicks in our pants for the day."

"That's right," Hongjoong adds, "Wooyoung, get back to your place."

He was so commanding, so fucking attractive to you.

Wooyoung sulks a little, his lips coming together to a pout when his warmth starts dissipating from behind you. He crawls back to his place, right under Hongjoong who doesn't really spare him much of his attention. San glares at the latter, it lasts for a mere second but it was enough for him to pipe down. Keeping one of his hand on Wooyoung's thigh, San offers you a lopsided smile. You are dragged down from the high you once attended to, your clothes now straightened out and your attention focused on Hongjoong.

He clears his throat, turning his head towards Jongho. The chestnut haired man has big set of doe eyes fixated on you, the brown in them warming your insides—he too then clears his throat and tugs at the collar of his cardigan. He's nervous it seems, and the way he makes you notice it, is too adorable to admire him. Jongho's ears turn a soft shade of cherry red, his cheeks flaming hot while he stares at you with words on the tip of his tongue. It gives you the most basic impression of him; he was a switch—the kind of guy who would flip from his domineering personality to a submissive toy in few seconds. And why was that turning you on?

Jongho mumbles, "I think you already know everything about me."

You compose yourself and sit straighter with the coffee table, placing your hands in front. "I've experienced a few things with you."

"That's enough," he smirks, "you'll understand as we go along."

"That leaves me then, I suppose," Hongjoong manages to chime in, tilting his head to a side and possessing an eerie smile. "Considering, Yunho has nothing to say or add."

"I absolutely do not," Yunho says with an undeniably teasing smirk, "that is, I simply do not find it plausible to let her know about my preferences. She's not ready yet."

He folds his arms over his chest and you glare at him, menacingly holding his eyes to the point of no retaliation. To your surprise, he scoffs and looks away, not shortly after you are turning to fix your attention on Hongjoong.

"Who's to know," he shrugs and smiles wider, his canines showing on his lower lip. "As for me, I'd like you to tread carefully before you dive head first into my preferences. I'm not the kind of man to trust so easy. I like to take my time with my partners, make sure they are willing and compliant. Most importantly, if they're comfortable. Or not. I won't be rushing our meets, they'll happen as I wish to, when I feel like you're ready for me." He takes a deep breath and his lips get to a straight line. "Do we understand that?"

You nod without speaking anything. "Good girl," you receive a praise from him, making your toes curl. "Since we're all done here, I think you should excuse me and Angel to discuss some other things. In private."

Instead of protesting, you selflessly watch all others leave the living room; Yeosang is the first to get out, without saying anything or acknowledging your presence, San and Wooyoung are in tow, both whispering in tongues. Seonghwa collects Jongho before leaving while Yunho offers you a subtle roll of his eyes as he walks past you. It was now only you and Hongjoong in the room, somewhat suffocating but the look in his eye was far more elusive than it normally would be. You and Hongjoong have no issues getting along, that is if you two really ever had an interaction with each other. As the time stands still, you and him hadn't had the proper interaction yet; you hadn't had proper interaction with San and Yeosang either, and Mingi is out of the question since he has his own reasons.

Hongjoong lets you stare at him for as long as you needed to. Relaxing himself against the back of the couch, he spreads his legs wider and runs his hand through his hair, disheveling it in the process. He doesn't want to utter unless you want him to, so reading your slavish movements, he keeps himself steady and composed.

"What do you want to talk to me about? In private, of it all." You heave a sigh and lick your lips, "is it something personal?"

"No Angel," he grins, amused and bewildered, "what I want to talk to you about is rather very much impersonal."

"Is it?" You couldn't believe what you were hearing exactly.

He nods, "I am not much of a fool to not notice the hostility between you and Yunho. You seem to avoid him, he seems to not find it...charming." Pausing, he steers his ambiguous eyes from you, giving you the chance to breathe before continuing, "I've seen him troubled, as much as it might not concern you, he's beyond dismayed in figuring out why you are dodging him. Yunho has his way of thinking, doing, perceiving—he's one of my oldest friends and I believe it's admirable that he finds you so lovingly endearing."

You're about to reply when he gets up from the couch, huffing a grunt out. "Look, Angel. Whatever the reason it is for you to avoid him, sort it out." He steps a little closer to you, "agreed we all said we want our relationship with you to be exclusively and sexually beneficial, but it doesn't necessarily mean we wouldn't crave intimacy or connection with you."

He leans over, fingers brushing with your chin to raise your head at him, while he adorns the most beautiful smile on his face ever. "You've spend a night with our baby bear. Nothing got lost in translation then I suppose. However, I hope you understand it well; we too covet for connection, the raw intimacy between you and our lives. Everyone has their own pace of warming up to you, it'll take time. Surely. But that doesn't mean you decide to push us away."

He caresses your chin ever so lightly, leaning over after to press a soft kiss on your forehead.

"Talk it out with Yunho."

Having no words to voice out, you only nod and smile reassuringly at him. Seconds bound you two together for a little while before he strides out of the living room, leaving you stranded with a havoc rapturing your mind. You had questions. Seemingly a lot. A lot considering how there were a few folders strewn on the table, one of them belonging to Yeosang who has asked you to read through the contract and sign it accordingly. You heave out a sigh, much lethargic one.

This arrangement was going to leave you in shambles. It was set in stone.

Evening dawns over, while you're in your room, reading a book—a book you chose halfway through reading Yeosang's contract. You wouldn't say you were uncomfortable, but maybe you were taken off guard to the norms started in it. The norms you'd have to agree to once you sign the contract. Grown out from the information dump you had been provided today in the morning, you decide to take some time out and make sure your sanity remains intact.

You're about to turn to the next page, when you unseemingly find your thirsty; to quench your thirst, you needed water. And how the fate works against your favour in making you hate it even more. The water bottle, near your futon, is empty, not entirely, there are very few drops at the at least. Those aren't enough to quench your thirst. You would have to unwillingly drag yourself out of the futon and walk downstairs and get you a new water bottle from the refrigerator.

How infuriating.

However, you needed it. Soon, you're sprinting down to the kitchen to get yourself a water bottle. Touché. There's an unsettling type of silence in the apartment, prolonging till you hear a door creak open and close loudly after. The sun drowns out the orange hues in the sky, replacing them with purples of the night and intentional reds of the sunset; softer golden hues caress your skin as you walk to the balcony adjoining the living room, tempted to wander in the transitional sky. Subdued to a scenic view of the city and the sky, you fail to grasp on someone lurking behind you...which is until that someone slips his arms around your waist. He pulls you back into his chest, purposely letting you collide. The familiar scent of musk and vanilla doesn't keep the identity of the man in shadows, you knew who it was, raising your heartbeat past the limit.

"Tell me, princess. Why are you avoiding me?" He mutters along your neck, having buried his head in the crook to tease and nick at your skin with to his teeth. "Have I done something to you? Where did I go wrong...?"

The utter confusion and despair in his voice is too much for your heart to bear, you couldn't let him stay in a state where he torments himself to know the reasoning behind your behaviour. You take a deep breath, running your hands along his to intertwine them, fingers lacing tight. Titling your head to the side, you find yourself absolutely awestruck at how beautiful he was, how gracefully had the sun lit up his hazel-ish doe eyes, how the rays were tempted to kiss his pale skin and bring out the glow in him. You couldn't come up with words to describe his beauty to even yourself, let alone to others.

"I—I saw you that day," you begin, slowly turning back to watch the sunset instead. Your words were stuck in your throat, constricting the walls till you were unable to breathe. "The day I was at the fest with Jongho—you weren't alone..."

"Is that all?" he grunts softly, kissing the spot right below your earlobe, his arms tightening. "You saw me with whom—a girl, a brunette? I was with Mingi then, wasn't I? I—" he pauses, flipping you over so that you were facing him and that was the last thing you wanted to happen. Meeting eyes with him, speaking about your misunderstandings and feelings, it was the last thing you wanted with him. "—I was with a woman, I won't deny or run away from the truth. Agreed it would paint something completely different in your head, but it doesn't necessarily have to translate to your worst of thoughts, does it?"

He takes a step forward.

And you stumble back.

His arms are around your waist again.

And you let him.

"I have nothing to do with that woman, princess."

He takes another step forward.

And you stumble. Again.

"We're only classmates. She's the one who wants to go out with me, she's—she had been conveying her interest in me...through many things. I had to turn her down, princess."

Another long stride from him, and you're pressed up against the glass doors leading to the balcony. He traps you in between his hands, placing them on either side of your face. Distance between you two keeps dithering till his lips are ghosting over yours, till his breath fans your cheeks and beats them up in a humbling fluster. You instinctively bring your hands to his shoulders and grip them, wanting to hold onto them for your life because you think you'd perish if you stared into his foreboding eyes any longer. They sought forgiveness for you, forgiveness for the misunderstanding you had been subjected to.

Yunho clears his throat, and whispers gently, "there's no reason for me to bring you pain. I've gotten..." he presses his lips against yours, "I've gotten so used to you—your little things. I would never want to betray you."

You wanted to choke. Seriously. Figuratively. Because you had no words to set things straight between you two; and how could you? How could you just appease the misunderstanding between you two after you had been a bitch to him? Not perse. But avoiding him was the worst decision and it was showing.

"You, avoiding me for the past week was a nightmare in itself," he mumbles, kissing the tip of your nose, "I like you, Angel. And I want to take things slow between us. For us—for us to bond properly. There's something more between us..."

"Something more than just physical intimacy."

Chapter Text

Reliving some moments can be detrimental, some can be joyous, while some can be a mix of both. You weren't sure where exactly you were leaning to in this particular moment. Or maybe, your approach was more of a two-fold interpretation than concluding all at once. Staring into the deep brown eyes of the person you were least likely to be interested in, was a moment of deja vu you resented living in, despising every passing second of it. In the much steeper part of your stomach, you were starting to sense the underlying distraught creeping up your gut. As one might wonder why you'd be so invested in this particular case, but to your own acknowledgment, you knew you were being stubborn.

There was no way you were backing down from this; you couldn't look away either, not when he's been waiting on the chance to watch you lose. In sullen silence which pertains the more you hold onto your stupidity, you have yourself comfortably perched on the kitchen counter while the subtle sounds coming from the balcony fill up any unnecessary noise between you two. Mingi was at it again, not once wavering in his motive to make you feel small with his broad shoulders or his bulging bare arms as he held them across his chest. A deleterious glint sits in his eyes. He stood at a distance from you, studying the curves of your body and how it was capable of fitting in the space on the kitchen counter next to the stove. You, on the other hand, are trying to condole with your hammering heart; it was no surprise, even to yourself, to know you were attracted to Mingi. If you got the chance, you'd pounce upon him and act out all the fantasies you deliberately hide from everyone. If only Mingi was allied to you the way others were. Sadly, that's not how it worked, did it?

A few hours after the break of dawn, and you're forced to have a ruthless encounter with him. Mingi had just woken up, judging from his bed hair and the way it was tousled, besides he was still dressed in his night clothes. The white tank top which hugged his body like a second skin had an assortment of stains on them. Some prominent, some faded; they were probably stains from food. Though, you were deeply infatuated with Mingi's personality, you equally reviled it too. If not, your somber morning would've never been blighted by his rueful gaze or his inanely gracious satire. You'd be a fool to think you'd have a normal morning for once; waking up to Seonghwa's voice was the ultimate rapture of your significant morning, and then he had asked to you meet him in the kitchen so he could prepare breakfast for you before everyone's awake. And to your satisfaction, everyone slept-in on a Sunday. Obviously.

Really, you'd be a fool to pass on that opportunity. Groggy with sleep, you somehow managed to drag yourself out of the nimble futon you slept on, brushed your teeth and carried yourself to the kitchen. The nifty oversized shirt on your body, the one which you had borrowed from Jongho last night, clung too close to you to expose your curves and godly figure; seamlessly you had booty shorts under your shirt, which had no point in wearing because the shirt covered most of your skin till your mid thighs. When you were ushered into the kitchen by the heavenly scent of coffee and your own enthusiasm, Seonghwa had been sipping on his morning coffee, his favourite mug in his hand and a doleful haze of sunshine in his eyes; everything was wonderful when alongside Seonghwa, you had your morning coffee too and engaged yourself in a fatuous conversation with him. Until Mingi walked in, half-asleep and Seonghwa excused himself to the balcony to get himself some freshly harvested coriander for the breakfast he had planned ahead. You had just gotten comfortable on the counter, as on Seonghwa's suggestion who thought it'd be a great idea for you to watch him cook.

So, now you're here. Waiting on Mingi's derisive comment to wrung you out like one would do to their wet towel. All this could've been avoided if Mingi hadn't woken up to get himself a bottle of water, or if you had just let it go after your eyes met with him.

"I don't remember the last time I had walked into the kitchen, and you weren't there," Mingi spits, spitefully enough to let his tone prick you like a thorn. "But you know, what? It'd be more surprising if you were actually useful in here."

"Man, you're really obsessed with me, aren't you?" you scoff, swinging your legs off the counter and landing on your feet. "I must be taking up every fraction of your mind, for you to come up with useless remakes and snarks."

"Aww, don't flatter yourself." Mingi smirks, "it's sad you think of me as one of your playthings to be infatuated with you and whatever that is you offer. Quit dreaming, princess. I will never bend to your words or whatever tricks you have up your sleeve."

"You seem very confident about—"

"You two are at it again?" Seonghwa groans, walking in the kitchen with his hands occupied, "how many times have I told you to not bother yourself with him, Angel? Some people aren't worth our attention." He sets the pair of scissors and a bunch of coriander, which he had freshly cut from his thriving garden in the balcony, on the counter and glances at Mingi, "and you, can't you let your differences go? You don't like her, we get it. But that does not validate your curt attitude towards her."

Heaving a sigh, he turns around and faces you, a smile already lilting on his lips, "look, I just want to have my breakfast in peace. You want to argue, bite each other's necks off, or borderline kill each other, do it in your own leisure time. My only request is, please let me eat in concord of my mind."

Mingi couldn't help but scoff, "you know, this would've never happened if you all hadn't allowed her to live with us."

You take offence in what he has to say, but don't voice it out as you usually would; Mingi and you had a bone to pick, you two could never get along no matter what. Though, listening to Mingi sometimes would leave your heart broken. In much simpler way of eluding, Mingi's resentment towards you was a blow to this ornate mirror you would view yourself in, and his words were the scattered pieces of glass ready to plunge deep in your heart. Whiling in the same momentary haze, you're dwelling unreasonably over his injudicious words again. It wouldn't come off as a surprise to anyone but being pampered and taken care of by the seven men in the house, Mingi's hostility always marred your pleasant disposition.

"Mingi," Seonghwa mutters, his tone threatening, "you're crossing the line here."

"Am I? Am I really crossing the line here, Seonghwa?" Mingi mumbles, posing it as a question onto Seonghwa. "I never had a say in this arrangement, yet I respected your decisions and went along with it. Maybe, I shouldn't detest her for what you've done. I should resent you all."

As his words falter to a mere whisper, Mingi shakes his head and turns around; but before he could leave either of you stranded, he glances over his shoulder and adds, "I'll go live with Lani for a couple of weeks. You guys can get comfortable, you know, I won't be around to make you guys awkward..."

With that, he leaves. His silhouette dithers to the morning sun flooding in through the balcony doors. Mingi had gone and you were seemingly, more heartbroken than ever. Your stomach lurches into your chest, your heart slowly regressing in its palpitations; Seonghwa clicks his tongue and places one of his hands on your thigh. Comforting warmth engulfs your disturbed mind and you're pulled out of your despondency. When you turn your head, you find Seonghwa's smile growing further into his cheeks and his eyes disappearing in crinkles.

"Don't you worry about him," he says, "he'll get around. I'll have Yunho talk to him. Unless they're both on bad terms with each other."

"What?" you mutter under your breath, tracing your hand along his to intertwine your fingers together. "I don't let his words bother me, seriously. You shouldn't trouble yourself with this. Or, even Yunho."

Seonghwa chuckles, "compared to me, Yunho would've taken a much violent approach if he had heard what and how Mingi spoke to you. I'm just saying, he wouldn't have been as tolerant as me." He clears his throat and lets his smile fall to line, "and whether you are bothered by him or not, it's no way for a man to treat you like that. Mingi is one of us, and we wouldn't be setting much of an impression on you if we let him get away with these things. Like I said, don't let his words get to you, he's a better man under all the facade of arrogance and revulsion."

Giving your hand a gentle squeeze, Seonghwa steps and untangles your hands; he stands in front of the stove and smiles at you. "Let's forget about him, alright. I know you're feeling down, so, what do you want to eat?"

"I thought you were making me fried rice from yesterday's leftovers," you wiggle your legs dangling off the counter and let your lips curl, "I'm not a picky eater. You can cook whatever you want."

"There's no harm in asking my lady, is there?" he muses, offering you wink before grabbing the bunch of coriander he had brought from the balcony.

"Who would've thought you tended a garden in the balcony."

He chortles, "not many know of it, sure. However, it doesn't take a genius to plant some coriander."

"Hey, it still keeps you in touch with your nurturing psyche," you pout, swinging your legs at a steady pace, "after all you're the guy who takes care of six kids in this household."

Seonghwa bites back on a laugh and lets his lips curve instead; he shakes his head, studying your clement eyes with his before he brushes it off. The avid affection in his eyes could've misread yours. He doesn't want to believe what he interpreted, but he knows you were being grateful to him. As the conspicuous moments cling to either of your speechlessness, Seonghwa clears his throat, and steps away from the counter.

"Seven kids, sweetheart. What, did you forget to count yourself?" he whispers lowly, "but you're not wrong, gardening has helped me get over many slumps in my life. And to be fair, any guy, stuck in my situation, would've done what I'm doing. Let's not romanticise what I do."

You are weirdly confounded by his modesty; allured in some delightful sense, you can't seem to get your eyes off of him. Seonghwa had his back faced to you while he rummaged through the refrigerator. Dainty crinkles of polythene bags and containers reverberate till they're softened by your own, an airy voice calling out to him.

"Are you sure?" you muse, "because I've seen you take on countless responsibilities. You somehow manage to balance your work life and still have time for the things you love doing vis-a-vis your gardening hobby. So, yeah. You're pretty much like a superhero."

"Anyone could do that, Angel. Come on." His humility is endearing, but you couldn't understand why he was dodging your compliments. With his head still buried in refrigerator, he continues, "if we're talking about parenthood, then I believe Hongjoong deserves some credit for keeping us all together."

You let out a soft giggle before leaning back on the counter, propping your hands on either side of you and gently oscillating yourself back and forth.

"You two have your roles predestined for this household, don't you? You're doing a great job, seriously. Just take the compliments and don't backhand them," you lick your lower lip, adoring the view in front of you. Seonghwa hums as a response because he knew there was no winning against you, while you suck on your teeth, "this is totally off topic, but damn, I might have one of the bestest views in front of me right now."

There was no lie in your testimony; you were indeed revelling in the perfect view of Seonghwa's rear raised in the air as he leaned over to rummage through the refrigerator. Sweatpants hang loose on his waist, accentuating more of his curves and his ass. It'd be a lot shameful to admit you were ogling at him, then ever denying you felt yourself losing to your demarcated eroticism.

"Oh really, my little girl likes what's in front of her? Adorable," he remarks, pulling himself out of the open doors of the refrigerator, "sad, all you can do is watch and drool. We both know who's incharge here, right?"

You watch him holding a few bags of veggies; though it wasn't feasible for your mind to come up with something this early in the morning, you still manage to go along the inner voices. A spark of tease takes over your mind when the oxytocin in your body passes its threshold.

"You are," you bring your voice down a few baritones and lace it with seduction, "daddy."

As a blur of sinful hope crosses his eyes, Seonghwa's face shrouds with utmost impropriety when he prances across the very little distance between you and the refrigerator. Carelessly, he lets go the bags in his hands and they land on the counter with a placid crinkle, soon submerging into your gasp; Seonghwa forces you to spread your thighs apart while you sat still on the counter. His hands sear their touch on your skin, pushing your legs further apart for him to slot his body perfectly against yours. The tender caresses of his fingers, running in circles on your skin, under your shirt, start trickling your spine with shivers. On your amiable instinct, you're quick to wrap your arms around his neck and shoulders, supporting your body as he pulls you into his body. He kept you upright while you were almost suspended off the edge of the counter.

"Be careful with that word, sweetheart." Seonghwa warns, tracing his lips in almost like a trail of wispy kisses to your ear; he licks up the shell of your ear before biting down on the earlobe. "You throw it around too much, and I might not be able to tame myself."

Your throat runs dry, once having discerned the softer but grimy undertones of carnality in his voice. In the wrinkle of a second, you wind your legs around his waist and push your hips into his lower abdomen. His flimsy shirt rides up with your movement to have you peek on his toned abdomen, and a cute little belly button. Seonghwa's dainty fingers crawl down to the hem of your shirt, pushing it over to expose your bare chest.

"I wouldn't mind you losing yourself to me, daddy." You slur your words, tilting your head to a side when you find him staring at you.

"You're playing with fire, sweetheart," smirking, he whispers and lets his hands drag up your sides, till they're cupping your tits, "aren't you scared you might burn yourself?"

A breath hitches in your throat, mind fogging with absolute darkness when his warmth is groping your tits like that; you let out a soft whimper, your eyes fluttering close and your lips parting in a mere attempt to get your words out. Nothing came out of your mouth, not even an utter; you were too engrossed in his touches and warmth, the one which slipped away from you after teasing and tugging at your taut nipples. You were sensitive to touch, and it had only been brought to your attention during your make out session with Jongho last night.

"Hmm, you're...responsive," Seonghwa mumbles and pulls back, letting your shirt drape your body fully before pressing a soft kiss to your lips. "We'll continue this after breakfast, hmm? I am really hungry right now. Hungry for food."

Tangled limbs become free as he pushes himself away from you; you weren't fond of the coldness which slipped in between too immediately after, but you couldn't complain either way. Seonghwa ties his apron around his waist and bends over to grab a chopping board from the cabinets below the stove.

He sets it on the counter before smiling at you, "I could use your help. Why don't you wash the vegetables and I'll chop them?"

"Sure."

It came off as a suggestion than request, the one you couldn't quite resist. You hop off the counter, gently tugging on your shirt before standing next to him; Seonghwa unwraps his selection of veggies from their respective polythene bags and places them on the counter. You share a glance with him, and a smile curls your lips. Soon, you two are drowning out every superficial thought in your head, lost in a void of affection while your eyes never once wavered from each other. He almost leant in, lips puckered and eyes half-lidded, you were prepared for whatever that was going to happen, anticipation breaking at the seams. Warmth of his breath fans your cheeks and then your lips, before it melts into your skin; his lips are delicate with yours, brushing softly till it turns to a passionate kiss. Seonghwa winces softly when he forces himself away from you, breaking the kiss in that moment.

"If we carry on like this, there's no way I'd finish preparing breakfast for nine people."

"Then maybe you should learn how to control yourself," you joke, bumping your hips into his, as playfully as you could, "come on, we've got a lot of time after breakfast to do whatever your heart desires to do now."

"Duly noted, ma'am."

Cooking with Seonghwa was fun, endearing even. You two spent the time laughing and talking around, making harmless jokes about the others who were somehow still not awoken to your chaos. There wasn't a lot to talk about any way, so you settled on asking him questions about Mingi and his relationship. At first Seonghwa hesitated in his head to answer your doubts, but soon enough he was opening up and spilling everything. Mingi and Lani, his girlfriend, have been on and off from the freshman year; the two met in their department and have known each other since then. Lani is a ballet major and according to Seonghwa's first impression of her, she's a pretty woman with an ugly heart and soul. She had been stringing Mingi along to her tricks, taking advantage of his good persona and also his wealth. Yep, if you hadn't known it before, Mingi, similar to Jongho, belonged to a well-heeled family.

"Mingi's too much of a kind heart to see through her lies and chicaneries," Seonghwa scoffs, continuing to sauté the vegetables, he glances at you and shrugs his shoulders lightly, "we've all tried our hardest to get him out of the illusions she's weaved around him; so far, we've only offended him with our stupid trials."

"You told me not to be bothered by him, on the contrary you yourself are troubled—"

"—there's always some sort of hypocrisy hidden in my words, sweetheart," his laugh interrupts you, "time heals, doesn't it?" As he sighs, he fixates himself on the pan of sizzling of vegetables, "I'm just hoping he realises his worth and knows what he deserves."

"He will, I'm a firm believer of that."

You hum and lean back into the counter, stretching out your upper body and legs to destress yourself; the sublime morning dawned over, spilling with golden cast and untimely bloom of chirping birds. It had been approximately fifteen minutes since Seonghwa and you had taken on the venture of cooking egg fried rice for everyone, almost done with finishing with the task at hand. Amid the silence of all, where only the occasional sears of vegetables and oil resounds, your stomach growls and all hell breaks loose.

Seonghwa bites back on a laugh and looks at you, "if you're that eager, there's an assortment of cut fruit in the fridge. Help yourself to it." He redirects your attention by pointing the spatula in his hand towards the refrigerator, "I'll be done in ten more minutes. You can have a light snack till then. And do you want me to brew you some green tea with the rice?"

You're already a few steps ahead, already by the refrigerator, "I'm fine. I'll just have some orange juice instead."

Opening the door of the refrigerator, you shuffle around with the various takeout containers and a box leftover pizza from last night. Along some saran-wrapped plates of Wooyoung's experimented recipes, you find the colourful bowl of cut fruits, which also happened to be covered by a large sheet of saran-wrap. The gelid ceramic bowl fits snug in the palm of your hands when you bring it out to the dining table; sitting down on your designated chair, you put the bowl on the table and flick the wrap from it. Your place at the dining table had been preordained by the others, you were given the seat between Yunho and San, while the others sat in their usual chairs. There was one chair, centrally placed along the width of the table, claimed by Hongjoong. And the others would then sit around him; it started with Hongjoong, and clockwise to him, it went, Seonghwa, Jongho, Yeosang, Mingi, Wooyoung, San, you and Yunho.

As it was only the two of you this morning, you decided to settle down on the first chair you see; which happened to be where Seonghwa sat. Aimlessly, you let your hand dive in the bowl to pinch out a piece of peach, the first bite is juicy, tangy and sweet, forcing you to reminisce on your bittersweet encounter with Mingi. You're in a dour state of your mind again, forced to have mindless notions, if there could ever be a time where you and Mingi would get along just fine. Lost in your heady wonders, you blindly pick out another piece, a piece of melon and put in your mouth; juices trickle, splashing on your chin and rolling further down your neck. Chewing through it, you're still immersed in the intangible truth of your downtrodden relationship with Mingi. You munch and chew, without having the knowledge that you had nearly finished all the fruit in bowl, and how sticky your chin was from all the fruit juices.

Louder your thoughts are, the more unaware you become of footsteps ascending out of the kitchen. You're snapped into reality by a certain weight lingering on your shoulder. When you raise your head up, you're stricken with Seonghwa's beaming smile and his amused eyes.

"Angel to earth," he muses, "what are you thinking of?"

You shake your head, lips quivering, "nothing really."

Seonghwa doesn't believe you, yet he nods his head and places the plates on the table which had been carrying in his other hand. Slipping his hand from your shoulder and sliding it across the back of your chair, he leans over and traces his other hand along your chin; fingers collect the remnant of fruit juices from your chin before his thumb swipes just under your lower lip. You watch him, flustered and confused, mouth agape, seemingly out of the daze, as he brings his fingers to his mouth and lets his tongue dart out. He licks up the length of his forefinger, fluttering his eyes close before humming in satisfaction. When his eyes open to your soft whimper, he continues to lap his tongue around his thumb; sucking on it, he brings it out with a pop and smirks lightly at you.

"Sweet," he whispers, leaning further to reduce whatever distance that was between you two. His lips hover on yours, ghosting their soft brushes till he mumbles, "you're not a good liar, sweetheart."

"I-I really wasn't—I wasn't thinking of anything," you stutter, jerking up your shoulders and taking a deep breath to keep yourself composed.

On the brink of letting your lips touch, you're at loss for words and thoughts; the close proximity muddles with your brain in ways you couldn't quite comprehend. Not when Seonghwa's hand had slithered its way on the nape of your neck from the chair. His delicate grasp pulls you in, your lips touching in some sort of fervent delight, till you're lurching and leaping, tilting your head to augment the desires palpating in both of your hearts. He cups your face instead, using the warmth of both of his palms. One of his thumbs presses against your cheekbone and you wince, fumbling with your own hands to wrap them around his shoulders.

This kiss drags on for long as it could, minutes murmuring to nothing more. Seonghwa's mind is left craving for more when he tastes the sweetness of fruit on your tongue and lips, when his own had been exploring the hot crooks of your mouth. You let him do as he pleased to, eager for his tongue to explore and taunt your own, to let both of them rub and wrestle together. Until, you're past the threshold of your contentment. A concept frozen in time, bounded by nothing till you're both breathless, chasing for the breath of air you needed to appease the burn in your chest. Seonghwa breaks the kiss, rupturing the rhythm of your lips; he rests his forehead against yours, his warm and ragged breath thrashing against your cheeks.

"Something has to be wrong with me today," he frets his words with the air he inhales, "I can't seem to let go of you, neither can I rid my heart of this devout yearning to taste you on my tongue. What have you done to me, my darling?" He chuckles in the raspy and breathless state of his, "do you not want me to stay sane?"

"I'm—I'm doing nothing," you respond, words hitching in your throat and heart pounding on the walls of your chest, "you were the one who kissed me."

"I am aware," he adds, whirling his tone with a deep laugh, "couldn't help myself when I saw you sitting here, lips and face glistening with the juices. You wouldn't know how tempting you were, how fucking beautiful it was for a man like me, to find you—" he chuckles in your face, "—every bit of you is so fucking precious, sweetheart. No doubt I lack self-restraint when I'm with you."

One of his hands on your cheeks, falls to grab your chin in his fingers' subtle grip, he pushes his thumb under your lower lip and forces you to open your mouth.

"This mouth had done some wonders back then," he mutters, "do you remember that night, Angel? When I had fucked this pretty little mouth of yours..."

You nod.

"Such a good little girl," he rasps, drunkenly, "such a good girl to remember the time I had wrecked her throat. Hmm, fucking perfect."

And you're rendered speechless; it's very unlikely for you to be so horny in the morning, let alone, your day had just started, and you were already dripping through your shorts. Swallowing thickly, your throat wobbles with you having no words to voice them out; instead, Seonghwa steps back, begrudging to himself as he straightens up and stares down at you.

"I know what you're thinking of," he muses, "and I've got something for you regarding it. Don't worry, sweetheart, all your desires will be quenched; let's just eat first, okay?"

Again, you're only sane enough to nod your head vigorously. Biting on your lower lip, your mind goes astray, the reminisces of the said night flooding your conscience with zeal and ecstasy; only recalling the vague memoirs that night left you with, had tipped you past your edge, urging your arousal to soak your shorts and causing more to seep out. Seonghwa's muted whistle howls in your ears when he's placing the pot of cooked rice on the table. While you're still disoriented from the remembrances of your game night with him and Yunho, Seonghwa makes himself comfortable on one of the chairs and pats his lap, hoping you'd take on the little hint. You obviously did not need to be told twice. Scampering off your feet, you're quick to fit yourself in his lap. You prop your legs across his, leaning your body onto his chest while resting your head on his shoulder. Mumbling out an incoherent sound, Seonghwa wraps his arms around your waist and presses a soft kiss against your forehead.

"How are we supposed to eat if you're going to..." he says, suggestive enough for you to sit a bit straighter, "you know, you can get needy at times. A lot."

Plucked by a sense of curiosity, you compose your posture and wrap your arms around his neck. Seonghwa's lips curl with the utmost bewilderment, while your brows squeeze together in the centre of your forehead; he shakes his head, fathoming your deliberate gestures. He pinches your chin, thumb pressing into your bone for your lower lip to tug out.

"I'm not complaining, it's adorable." He adds in a wispy voice, "really fucking adorable when daddy's little girl gets to bat her lashes at him and he falls head first into her trap."

You smirk, squirming on his lap before leaning over to whisper in his ear, "isn't daddy all talk and no show?"

"Daddy doesn't want to hurt his baby," he mutters, tracing one of his hands along your back to your neck. Though, losing his grasp on his own tongue, he lets out a chuckle and looks away from you, "bless my soul, I thought I'd be able to keep a straight face through this vulgar oration, but turns out I can't really utter anything without absolutely cringing my spine."

"Why not?" you laugh along him, as his eyes are back on you, twinkling with unsaid words, "I believe, you said it was a part of your "kinks" and preferences."

He shrugs, slightly shifting you on his lap, "it is; however I don't want our fellow readers to crawl out of their skin listening to me exaggerate..."

You peck his lips and shut him up, "I bet the readers like it. So, don't you worry about it."

"The main concern should be, do you like it?" he rasps, his voice husky, "it's important to know if you're comfortable or not."

You brush your lips against his, "it might take me some time to get used to it. Not a lot of guys I had been with, dabbled in this kink, you know."

"Lot of guys?" he instigates, his lips curling into his cheek, revealing his canines, "how many guys have you been with before us?"

"I never asked you how many women you've been with before me," you drawl, jutting your lower lip out, "why do you care, anyway?"

Sliding his hand further up your neck, he entangles his fingers in your hair and pulls you with it; you arch your head back, succumbing to his strength and chuckling softly before he buries his face in the crook of your neck. He traces pleasant kisses on your skin, eventually letting his tongue dart over to lick and suck, eliciting pretty sounds from your mouth.

He murmurs his words, letting them collide with your skin, "fine. I'll tell you everything. Would you like that?"

His hand which had stayed around your waist, tightens and using your body to have some leverage, he bucks his hips into yours. The thin material of his sweatpants wasn't enough to let the impression of his erection go unnoticed by you; seemingly immersed in the sensation his lips offered and the way his hardening cock rubbed against your inner thigh, you let out a mangled gasp, smiling to yourself.

"Sure—ah fuck—sure, tell me everything about your past." In your line of sight, you could only catch the minute glimpse of his tousled hair tickling your throat.

Seonghwa hauls a soft chortle against your collarbone; not knowing when he had drifted off from kissing your throat, to your collarbones, you whimper ever so slightly, lurching over to hug his shoulders tighter in your grasp. Your body somehow manages to stay on his lap, somehow rattling to his the movements of his hips and the sensitive teasing of his lips on your collarbones; if you were to squirm or shift even to the slightest to your side, you would be slipping out of his lap and landing ass-first on the floor.

"What, do you need a number or names?" he jokes, "I'm bad with both. Could never keep a count, or remember their names."

"That's just sad," you enunciate, shuddering to his teeth sinking right above one of your collarbones, "very much like you, I don't recall a lot of things from my past endeavours either."

Seonghwa hums along, "you certainly know how to play a risky game, don't you?" teasing you with his teeth, he proffers a few more nibbles to your flesh before pulling back. His hand drops from your hair and lets you move your head freely; though, he brings the same hand down to cup a side of your face, "don't bite more than you can chew."

"Oh, you're one to talk," you retort, rolling your eyes at him, "aren't you redirecting my attention to something else." He understands your intentions when you subtly glance down, and scoff, "I thought we were going to eat. You just seem to have all different kinds of ideas, anything but eating breakfast, apparently."

"And who's responsible for putting these ideas in my head?" he taunts you, patting your cheek before backing himself away and wrapping both his arms around your waist.

A dark sheet of serenity falls over the two of you, simmering your thoughts till he's making an effort to create a sound. Seonghwa's grip tightens around your figure, his chin coming to rest on your shoulder as he mumbles, "I've slept with many women in my past, maybe a few men here and there; but I could never connect with them on a spiritual level. Could never engage each other in meaningful conversations. Our emotional compatibility was almost close to negligible, so we kept it limited to our bodily passions and intimacies. All of my past experiences, they're more jarring than you could ever imagine them to be."

You listen to him draw in a sharp breath, his chest heaving into yours when he does. For the fractioned beat of a second, he grows quiet and then sighs, breaking his silence, "in the end, I came to terms with it; I had no problems living that lifestyle, even though it was, in practicality, destroying me." He adds, "so, due to my internalised needs and desires, I stopped meddling with the dating culture altogether. Now, I wander around, meeting new faces every night and indulging in most of my darkest desires."

"Does that sate your curiosities, sweetheart?" he wrings out a jagged laugh, shaking his head, "I truly hope so."

You nod, "yeah."

There's an underlying forethought concealed in Seonghwa's eyes; it glimmers softly while you're still figuring your way through the labyrinth of his words. Seonghwa may not be as forthcoming as you might have predicted him to be, though you couldn't really judge after only living with him for a month or so. It took time for him to peel his shell off, engage with you in much profound and deeper conversations about literally anything and those tête à têtes were your habitual secrets to seeking an ardent relationship with him.

"Good," he smiles, "let's eat then. I can feel my stomach growling for some food, while I'm starting to see stars behind my eyelids."

"Oh, you're so dramatic," you playfully scoff, before propping the lid off the pot, "and so hungry today. Are you sure it's food that you're craving and not something else?"

"What else would I crave on a Saturday morning?" he deadpans, licking his lips.

"I don't know, I was thinking about..." you trail off and let out a simple laugh, "me, aren't you craving me to fill your mouth with my sweetness..."

Seonghwa groans, keeping a mellowed out smile on his lips, "daddy's little girl really wants to test his patience, doesn't she? Well, daddy is going to make sure his little girl knows not to tease him."

Your spine crumbles to his husky voice, his arms tracing up your sides; fingers clasping onto the hem of your shirt, he lifts it over your head and discards it down on the floor. A soft crinkle resounds, but you aren't too bothered by it, because you were too fazed by his warm breath prickling your skin, fanning with an intensity. Bare chest, see-through demeanour, you fix your hungry eyes on his and wait for them to shift a shade, wait for them to lose all the light before he becomes feral in a way only you could understand. Wetting your lips, you slide your hands into his hair, picking at the soft tuft of ebony strands, and tangling yourself in the much needed strength. And there it goes without saying, ambient dark shrouds his eyes and a smirk fleets on his lips.

Till the time a breathless gasp leaves your mouth, his face is buried in between your tits. His tongue slithers out, rubbing up stripes, licking your skin; a moan gets trapped in your chest when you find the same warmth graze along your sternum. His lips hover over one of your tits, you're anticipating when he opens his mouth and engulfs you with a want you had been sitting on. However, he doesn't give it much thought before wrapping his soft lips around your flesh and guiding his mouth down. All in his mouth, you bite your lip and throw your head back, eyes screwing shut with the absolute pleasure you were bubbling with.

Your arousal seeps through your shorts when his teeth sink in lightly at first, and then he bites down, hard enough for his teeth to mark your skin. Strapping his hands to your waist and pulling himself away from your chest, he somehow manages to shuffle you on his lap. A second sounds in your head and his mouth is back on your chest; immersed in the holy delight of his lips and mouth sucking your tit, you voice a strangled whimper and fist your hands in his hair. Seonghwa winces at the way you were tugging on his hair, but doesn't make a sound and continues to do what he had taken up on.

Somber serenity in the surrounding is filled with fervent echoes of moans, groans and whimpers, all shuddering from your mouth; your lips remain parted, your eyes now half-lidded to gaze down at Seonghwa, and your cunt leaking with excitement. Whiling himself in his own carnality, he slides one of his hands up from your waist and gropes your other tit. The softness of his hand caresses your skin before the raggedness of his fingers envelops it whole. Pinching your taut nipple in between his thumb and forefinger, he lets it roll before pulling on it.

"Ah, fuck—Seonghwa," you voicelessly mutter out, bucking your hips into his to let your clothed cunt grind against his thigh, "you—you fucking switched up—you just—keep doing that, please."

Your desperation amuses him, but he doesn't let go. Seonghwa's tongue keeps lapping and tickling your taut nipple by rubbing its tip too harshly over it. At this point, you're gasping for air and your lungs could collapse any moment due to the suffocation your mind brought upon them. Moving your hips vigorously to a steady pace, you try to get as much friction against his thigh as you could. Internally, you writhe with a bolt of desperation striking down every rational thought in your body. While his other hand stays around your waist, he supports your back and lets you ride his thigh.

The slick of your arousal is starting to seep through your shorts and soaking into his sweatpants; if you could translate your and his neediness, you both wanted the same things. To rid yourself of your clothes. You were piqued beyond your desires, wanting to rub your drenched pussy against his bare thigh, and Seonghwa had his heart in his mouth, picturing how pretty you'd look cumming on his thigh. With his hand slipping against the small of your back, he gives you subtle hint and you take it; propping yourself on your feet, you stand while Seonghwa pulls away from your chest and suppresses a groggy grunt in his stomach.

"I better have you moaning my name when you're riding my thigh."

As he voices the steepest craving of his heart, he pinches your nipple harder and twists it in between his forefinger and thumb; you gasp, your lungs burning to the sting of your chest while you're starting to pool in your shorts.

"Do you understand that little girl?" he emphasises and tugs harshly on your nipple, red blotches starting to fade in across your skin.

"Yes—yes," you mutter, catching a breath, but aren't really given much time when Seonghwa's hand cups your tit before the palm lands flat and harsh against it.

"What do we say, Angel?" he slurs your name, and it rolls off his tongue coated with honey.

"Yes, daddy." he nods, willingly palming your tit before slapping it again, "that's what I like to hear, hmm..."

The meagre vibrations of his voice are just resonating in your ears when his delicate touches ghost your waist. Your bare skin gets trickled with goosebumps the moment he engulfs you in his warmth. Effortlessly, as you meet his eyes, pleading him to rid you from your shorts, he hooks his fingers under the waistband and tugs them down. Not a second is wasted in kicking the shorts off your body; they lay strewn on the floor, sprawled by the legs of Seonghwa's chair.

You're about to lower yourself back into his lap when he makes you cease your actions with a simple nudge of his head. Seonghwa, unfazed by your glistening cunt, quickly pulls his sweatpants down and lets them bunch at his ankles. Trapping a mewl in your chest, you then straddle a side of him, situating yourself and your aroused cunt on one of his thighs.

"Hmm, fuck me, Angel," Seonghwa moans, throwing his head back when he feels your slick caress his skin, "you're fucking leaking down here. Such a—such a wet cunt rubbing up and down my thigh," he takes a deep breath and squints his eyes close, "you seriously want me to lose it, don't you?"

You bite down on your lower lip and nod your head, pressing your back into his thigh and letting your cunt drag over; the very first brush of your folds against his skin was ecstatic, beaming a haze of sheer raw carnality through your body. Seonghwa catches his breath and straightens his head to have his gaze fixed on you. The specs of brown are mild and pale in his eyes, mostly because they were concealed behind a thick curtain of lust. The look in his eye is quite similar to the one you had caught up on that night, the night where you were sandwiched in between Yunho and him.

"I just—I just want to cum," you cry in absolute agony, the dragging minutes turning your arousal painful and harrowing. "I can't—Hwa, I can't take this much long—longer."

"Darling, no one's stopping you," he growls, "go ahead, make a mess on my thigh," he clicks his tongue and shakes his head, a sly smile curving his lips, "or does daddy's little girl need his cock to set her straight?"

When he rasps his words, you let a part of your sanity slip away into the dark of your lust; craving most of him, you rock your hips against his thigh, your wet folds fretting with a want so inhumanly strong to break you apart in meagre seconds. Needless to say, you were long gone, led astray in the land of darkness and pure lechery. How could you take things slow when you were beyond any hope, beyond the particulars of your aroused body forcing you to fold and rile up in all the worst ways possible. Your body jolts to the upheaving urge of suffering; cinched by your mind, you tense up the moment a tight knot fickle with your gut.

Winding your arms around his shoulders, you procure a much needed leverage for your hips to rub on his thigh. The sensation kept dragging out your high, kept you in the steady motion while you were whimpering in utmost pleasure. And the man under you was completely unfazed, however bewildered and amused to watch you use him to help you come undone. This was his first time watching you so desperate for him, his first time touching your cunt; it blew up a fuse in his head, mouth drooling at the sight of you and your tits bouncing, the sinful sounds your mouth parted with, and how lusciously loud you were starting to get. Combusting with the remaining desire, you steady the rhythm of your hips and tighten your arms around his shoulders. Your cunt kept clenching around nothing, your clit in a sensory overdose from grinding for long and your needy self still ached to be filled by him. Moans grew louder, your eyes welled with tears and blurred your vision.

"Daddy..." a whimper shudders in your most devastating voice ever, "I want you—I want your cock, please. I need you—I need you so bad, daddy."

Seonghwa's unholy chuckle resounds only a little when he immerses himself in the play of his cravings and dives in to lick your already shimmering tits. His spit layers on your skin, his cock springing and straining in his briefs at the way your delicate cunt kept stroking his thigh. This could be the ultimate end of your struggle, you were so sure the tension in your stomach would ease out if you continued for even a minute more. But to your disappointment, one of Seonghwa's hands comes down to caress your mound; he offers you a little slap before using his other hand to stop you. A bashing strike of his hand against your stomach is enough to bring you out of the daze, to have your hips rolling back while your body manages to comprehend the situation.

"Hmm," Seonghwa clicks his tongue, "my little girl needs daddy's cock to fuck her good, hmm..?" continuing to muse, he mumbles against your chest, "such a needy little girl."

"Please daddy," you whisper, tilting your head down to meet his eye.

"Get on your feet," he commands and you oblige, standing up with your legs on either side of his.

Seonghwa lets a teasing curve slide on his lips before he starts pulling his briefs down; he manages to slip them off his legs, shoving them to a side while he glances at you and how your eyes were tracing every inch of his cock. Indeed, you were staring down at him, salivating with the anticipation of when you'd be stuffed by him. Biting back on a groan, you could barely keep yourself up, merely have strength to keep yourself on your feet. When your knees buckle with an absolute want and feeble enthusiasm, you land straight in his lap. Seonghwa clicks his tongue, in an attempt to distract you from the embarrassment you thought you were delving in; he pulls your further down by your waist and lets the tip of cock nudge a side of your inner thigh.

In the heat of the moment, you mewl from the pit of your stomach and lurch into his chest. Simmering kisses along his clothed chest and collarbones, you graze your lips painfully slow to meet his; a fracture in time melts all boundaries for your rationality, and the next thing you know, you're licking his lips and shoving your tongue into his mouth. You pry his mouth further open, letting it fall wide while your tongue slithers past his and plunges to the base of his throat.

Seonghwa hums, letting you do as you please; he was more concentrated on bucking his hips into yours, to let you feel his hard cock, let it dent in your lower belly. You're far too gone, though a few minutes prior to this you were on the edge cumming, and now you're riling yourself up again. Pressing your tongue against the roof of Seonghwa's mouth, you shift in his lap and situate yourself in a desperate position. Your cunt stroked up his cock, the tip almost slipping inside but you veer slightly to let it slide out and up your mound. Musty stench of sweat and sex had already dissipated in the morning air, how the sunshine basked in glory of shining across your bodies and entrapping them in warmth of refined pleasure.

Breathless, Seonghwa pulls you by your waist and angles his head back; he takes a lug of air through his mouth and lets his lips mould into a smirk.

"What was that?" he questions, his husky voice dwindling to a mere whisper, "my little girl knows how to play, doesn't she...?"

You nod, succumbing to such neediness that you have to stable yourself by holding onto his shoulders. "Yes daddy..."

Seonghwa has had a good grasp on his untamed mind for quite long. Though he knows he's going to lose it soon, and the more you heed him by the word he so often goes crazy listening to, he might not really not go too easy on you. His hands glide down the small of your back and cup your ass. While his eyes are too busy fixated on you, he leans in to catch your lower lip in between his teeth. You give into him because you were wasted, intoxicated by carnality to have any logical notions to think straight. The raggedness of his calloused hands rubs against your ass. Taking the hint, you lift yourself only a bit for him to guide you down onto his cock. And he might have struggled a little to slip inside you, because he was distracted by your desperate eyes and the way he had trapped your lower lip in his mouth.

You whine, managing to get your words out, "fuck—daddy, I need you—fucking please."

"You're doing great so far, love," he praises you, freeing your lip from his clasp and continues, "come on, you can get it in by yourself, can't you?"

On the verge of crying out, you quickly nod your head and bring one of your hands down from his shoulder to wrap it around his cock. You give him a few strokes along the shaft and then proceed to pump his tip; bracing yourself, you use the same hand to align him against you, your attention solely fixed on Seonghwa's as he watches you with so much admiration. The moment the tip of his cock prods with your folds, his brows scrunch to the centre and his eyes flutter close. He voices a guttural moan, clasping down hard on his lower lip while you swallow the length of his cock. It slips right in because of your abundant arousal leaking out; he grows harder inside of you, twitching slightly you completely sink down and wrap your velvet walls around him.

"Ah, fuck. Angel..." he mutters under his breath, peeling his eyes open to find you were equally stuck in the trance of pleasure with him, "is daddy's cock perfect for you?"

You nod, "yes, daddy's cock—daddy's cock fits so well in my cunt."

And there goes your ability to structure cogent responses and voice them at the same time. You were bound to get drunk on all the dopamine and serotonin dispersed in your bloodstream; Seonghwa's body was just another excuse for your brain's haphazard behaviour. His cock nestles deep in your cunt, slightly straining again as you try to adjust to the stretch and his length. Seonghwa may not be as girthy or thick as Yunho, or Jongho for that matter, regardless, he had a good length to reach places which were probably not easily accessible to anyone. It wasn't a good time to recall, but the night you deep throated this man, you were practically left sore in your throat and Yunho's suggestion of drinking hot tea was a failed attempt.

"Such a good girl," Seonghwa mumbles, slotting one of his hands in the small of your back and tracing up the other one to your neck, "such a good fucking whore to take my—take my cock in. Feels good, hmm? Daddy's cock feels good, doesn't it?"

"Yes," you whimper, wincing softly before leaning over to envelope his shoulders with your arms. "Daddy's cock—daddy's cock feels really good. So fucking good."

Your voice starts breaking towards the end; throat drying to the possible thought of rolling his hips against his, for his cock to plunge even deeper than this. The moment you try to move your hips even an inch, Seonghwa slaps a hand across your tits to get you out of the daze. Bothered and immensely frustrated, you let out a saccade series of jumbled up whines and gasp.

"Fuck—what was—what was that for?" you stutter, watching the man with tears in the corners of your eyes.

"Don't move." He smirks, "not yet."

"Why not?"

Seonghwa's smirk grows deep into his cheek, "because I'm hungry. And I need to eat."

"Fucking really?" you heave out a low-pitched laugh, sliding your arms down to the hem of his shirt, "daddy really is un-fucking-predictable."

"And daddy's little girl shouldn't have such a foul mouth on her," he teases, bringing his hand again to strike it against your chest; to you surprise he doesn't, rather he slaps your already puffed cunt, "hope she's aware daddy knows a way to cleanse it. Does she want—ah fuck, love, you're clenching around me."

He leans over to grunt in your ear, "be a good little girl while I have my breakfast, darling. And I'll give you what you deserve, hmm?"

"Okay," you murmur, but bite your tongue, adding, "daddy..."

Seonghwa scoffs playfully and props your body against his chest; he makes sure you're resting on him while he reaches out to the cutlery holder on the table to grab himself a spoon. The plates were ready in front of him beforehand, from back then. He helps him to a small serve of the rice you two had cooked together. As the rice spills over the plate, his spoon clatters delicately; he collects a spoonful and brings it close to your mouth. In all honesty, you were indeed hungry, but didn't want to admit it to him. Not when you were frisky and needy in the beginning.

"Here," he rests the spoon by your lower lip, "open wide."

Rolling your eyes at his trivial attempt at mockery, you open your mouth and let him put the spoonful of rice in. The spicy and tangy undertones hit your taste buds, quickly followed by the crunch of veggies. You were baffled, struck by a dilemma; there was a party of flavours in your mouth and in the merry land of downtown, your cunt was stuffed with his cock. Which plight was more engaging and pleasurable? Obviously, eating.

You hum in a strangled manner, gazing at Seonghwa who himself had a spoonful of rice in his mouth. A blotch of sauce stains under his lip, just below on his chin and your mind goes off with an idea. Leaning in, your breath fans along his nose and lips, eventually turning intense on his chin. Your tongue darts out in the latter second and laps up the stain. You've licked it clean, and while you were immersed in doting on Seonghwa's lowly groans, you could feel him twitch in your cunt. It turned him on. Victory for you.

"Really?"

"What?" you act coy, rolling your hips into his to let the tip of his cock thrust into you slightly. "You've got weird kinks, I did what I thought you'd like..." you drag it to a mumble, "daddy."

He shakes his head, a smile splaying on his lips; he gets another spoonful of rice and feeds it to you. Again, you relish on the savoury taste and moan softly. Again, Seonghwa's cock pulsates in your cunt.

"I do." He answers to your priorly posed question, "in fact, feeding you is weirdly turning me on."

"Touché," you roll your eyes.

"Do you want to cum or not?" he mocks, sliding his other hand up your bare stomach to grope one of your tits.

"You're a fucking tease."

Uh-oh.

You shouldn't have said that.

'Cause the moment those words left your lips, Seonghwa's eyes lost their light, and his lips pursed together in a straight line. He lets the spoon drop against the plate, clattering louder at the impact and the echoes kept resonating around. You swallow thickly, your mind fogged with deliberate thoughts of him and anticipation. It takes a fraction of a second for Seonghwa to thrust his hips into yours, ramming his cock further up your cunt. You press on a moan, fumbling with your arms to allot them a place to rest; finding his shoulders perfect for your body to support itself you tangle them around him and hope for the best.

"Fine," he mutters, growling through his words halfway, "I'll get straight to the point then. Get on your feet."

His voice is as dark as his eyes, stern clear and firm; you swallow down on a lump in your throat again, and get on your feet. When you do, though, his cock slips out of your cunt and you wince at the emptiness; your much elated indulgence comes to a sudden halt but it doesn't leave you quite yet. As you're steadying your quavery feet on the floor, Seonghwa stands up from his chair and steps out of his sweatpants pooling around his ankles. Your eyes meet with his, losing yourself to the push and pull of your horniness; he takes a step towards you, while your back is pressed up against the table. The edge of the table dents into your flesh, but it's nothing compared to the steely despair in your stomach which bubbles through your body. He lurches over and rests his arms on either side of you, putting his hands on the table to trap you in between his body.

"Ass out, little girl," he rasps, "daddy is going to remind you how to behave around him."

With little to no resistance in your mind, you flip your body over and stick your ass out; he, on the other hand, does not hesitate in grabbing your waist or pulling your ass back into his crotch. He grabs the hem of his shirt and pulls it up to clutch it in between his teeth; the shirt rides up and exposes his toned abdomen, and chest. You glance over your shoulder to bask in the sight, the delicious sight of him biting down on the hem of his shirt and sporting a smirk on his lips. There's no denying, he was a piece of art and even more so, he appeared so fucking hot while pushing himself into you. His cock nudges against your asscheek as he rolls his hips into your rear; he continues to do so until his cock slips perfectly in between, under your cunt. The tip prods with your slit, tracing back and forth till he makes an attempt to sink into your warmth.

Seonghwa's grunt is partially coarse when he plunges the tip of his cock into you. The way he slips in so effortlessly into your cunt, reminds you how wet and aroused you were. Though, you wouldn't have minded if he had rubbed his cock along your slit for few more minutes; it was driving you insane how he drags his ministrations and tipping you off the edge. Your patience were disintegrating and it was hard to keep up with your body.

"Fuck, Angel," he slurs his words, "you're swallowing me in, fuck—so fucking eager."

He winds an arm around your waist, resting it right over your stomach to steady you before pushing himself further into your hips. Inch by inch, the entirety of his cock is buried in your cunt, the fullness causes you to tremble and shudder, forcing you to take a deep breath which apparently only stings your lungs. Seonghwa uses his other hand to slot it in the curve of your back, pushing you over the table and bending you into him. It was all about the convenience, finding the perfect angle for his cock to thrust and ram into all the good places inside you.

"Seonghwa..." you whimper, resting your hands in front of you, holding onto the table as you're pushed into it with his force. "Fuck—daddy, you're—a little faster, please."

Stringing out a few words to create something coherent, at least you thought you were. Seonghwa's thrusts pick up their pace, only by a tempo while he still teases you: he pushes in till the base of his cock, and pulls out fully to leave you whining on the empty feeling. He does that quite a lot, frequently slipping out of you and sliding back in with much fervent enthusiasm than before. The teasing was only so much you could handle at the given moment of time, because you were already in the hopeless state of mind, wanting to be railed by him without any restrictions or distractions.

It had certainly left your mind that you stayed here with seven others men; one of which who resents you but the other six are patient, awaiting on their chance with you. If any one of them were to walk in on the two of you, it'd be a mess. Not that you did not anticipate it. You would be propelled into a new world of kinks and chaos if someone were to watch you get dicked down by Seonghwa. Just picturing it makes you clench around Seonghwa's cock, groaning at the slow-paced thrusts and pokes he eventually made at your clit with the tip of it. You were beyond helpless and had a vague outline of future possibilities streaming in your mind. That is, if someone were to really walk in on the two of you, you really hoped it to be Yunho.

Fuck. That doesn't seem like a good idea, considering Yunho had conveyed a part of his jealousy when you were sucking Seonghwa's face off that one night. If he were to see you get railed by his friend, it'd make him vicious enough to pull Seonghwa off of you and complete the task himself.

Probably, you'd want San to walk in on you two; there's no logic to this, but to your better judgement, it seems right for him to. You and San hadn't had much of an interaction, though you're a hundred percent assured he'd revel in the sight of your ass sticking out and into Seonghwa's crotch. San was definitely an ass guy.

"What are you thinking about?" Seonghwa asks, losing his grasp on his shirt; it falls down over your back, tickling your skin softly.

"Nothing—nothing really."

"Liar. Tell me," he chuckles, dark and loud. "I know you're—fuck—thinking about something."

Seonghwa's grunt settles heavy against your shoulder when he pushes his cock back into and proceeds to fuck you with the tip; he leans in to rest his chin on your shoulder, his ragged breathing harsh against your skin, tickling a side of your face and your ear. The material of shirt chafes your skin to the slightest degree, but should you really be worried about that? Your mind had been numb to his cock prodding and thrusting harshly into you, the rhythm of his hips not once faltering; he's certainly going at it, but somehow drawling out your orgasm and his too. He brings both of his hands on either side of your waist, clutching and denting your flesh with his fingers.

"I know what you're thinking about," he groans, "fuck—what if someone were to—what if someone walks in on us, hmm?"

You moan, "daddy..."

"Little girl wants someone to watch her while she gets—fuck—while she gets railed by her daddy, hmm?"

"Yeah, thinking bout someone—someone watching me."

"Ah, daddy's little girl is really filthy," he plunges deep into you, the tip of his cock settling in your warmth, "wants someone to watch her—wants others to see how good—fuck—how fucking good her daddy fucks her."

"Please," you mewl, nails scratching against the wood of the table, varnish slipping under them. "Please daddy—wanna—wanna be a good girl for you."

"Hmm," he hums close to your ear, licking up a stripe to bite down on the shell of it, "you are. Such a good girl—such a good fucking girl—fuck, taking daddy's cock so fucking well."

His hips rattle your body, the pace building up to a heavy speed, and continuing to follow so; pushing at your back, he bends you further onto the table, almost pushing your chest flat against it. In your haphazard world, you are cautious not to fall on the half eaten plate of food and the little sauce pan of rice which remained covered. You turn your head to the side, cheek pressed up against the wooden top and catch in the glimpse of Seonghwa's sweaty face. A few drops cascade down his forehead, while a few strands of his stuck too close to his skin. He has a very fucked look in his eyes, losing himself to the insatiable temptation of hitting you from the back.

You stretch your hands in front of you, pressing the palms flat and supporting your body to the wild impacts of his hips. As the benign force of his thrusts causes you to oscillate back and forth against the table, you're somehow lost in the trance while staring at him. Seonghwa throws his head back, his throat arching so perfectly, so expressive of him; his adam's quivers under his skin, and he screws his eyes shut. You're on the verge of letting your tears slide down your face, stricken with immense pleasure and delight in the way his cock was ploughing through your puffy walls.

"Good girl for..." you muffle your words on your spit, the drool starting to accumulate and trickle past your mouth. "Good girl for daddy."

"Yes, sweetheart . Such a sweet girl." Seonghwa replies incoherently and continues, "such a sweet little cunt, swallowing my cock in—so fucking well."

He had lost it too; he rambled useless words in the daze of your walls cleaning around him. It was the sweet disposition which got him to thrust himself even deeper. Too deep. Too many long and hard thrusts. His crotch and lower abdomen stays flushed with your ass, his thighs boring into your hips with every thrust of his. The tip of his cock plunges in the steeper end of you, pushing through your walls and jolting your body close to your orgasm. One of Seonghwa's hands comes to rest on the nape of your neck, wrapping delicately before pushing your head further into the table. His other hand lays flat against the small of your back, somehow forcing you to arch your ass into his cock. It worked.

"Daddy..." you moan, eyes half-lidded and lips slick with your drool; not just your lips, your chin had a sheeny coat of your spit.

"A little more, darling," Seonghwa groans.

When you whimpered his name, it was the point of no return for him; he diverts his mind towards your cunt, and how your warmth had engulfed his cock in sheer pleasure. Your walls tauten around him, and devour his cock further into your heat. You weren't fond of the table, your body felt sore and aching against it; and his thrusts weren't easing out any of the pain, not when he had picked them up. The inhumane lunges of his hips, shoved his cock deep. Stroking his thumb on the back of your neck, he leans over to rest his forehead on your shoulder blade. His hot breath fans your skin, edging you close to your orgasm.

A unlikely and familiar heaviness knots in your gut, twisting them ferociously as your stomach growls with a need. Seonghwa's cock keeps hitting you in all the right places, in all the right ways; you were minutes away from crumpling down and easing out your orgasm. Sensing your walls clench around his pulsating cock, Seonghwa peppers your shoulder with gentle and light kisses. The fluttering sensation crawls down to your stomach and causes it to twist; you're so close, almost on the verge of letting it go. The hand resting against your back, traces up the length of your arm and pulls it down; he bends it over and slots it in the curve of your back. Doing the same with your other arm, he has both of them together against your back, while he traps your wrists in his death grip. You're far too fucked out of your mind to resist against anything.

"Go on, sweetheart," he whispers, "you deserve it—fuck—go on, make a fucking mess on daddy's cock."

"Holy fuck—I'm—I'm fucking—I'm..." your voice gets lost in the sound of your skin slapping with his.

That was it. The last bits of his words make you go crazy, snapping every string of self-restraint and control, cutting off every thought to your brain and body. He drills his cock into you, keeping it concise and easy, and you're unravelling all over him. The knot in your gut nicks at your stomach, tightening it up further in your chest, and when the lightness washes you down, you relax your muscles and hear your juices splash. The cold drops trickle down your inner thighs, coating every inch of his cock as he continues to thrust through it.

"Such a good girl," Seonghwa growls, stuttering in his words, "daddy's gonna fill you up, sweetheart—daddy's gonna fill this sweet little cunt up."

Your lungs burn, your throat feels a little sore and your body feels lethargic; you're almost certain you'd pass out if he were to continue like this. Seonghwa heaves out a groan, which comes out hard from his chest as he fixes his drunken gaze on your face. His continues to caress his thumb against the back of your neck, which you had forgotten about a few minutes ago, and rolls his thighs into yours; his hips stay flushed against yours for a meagre second until he's pulling back. Keeping up with this, he thrusts in deep for the last time before his cock twitches with the urge; drenching your walls in his warmth, he spurts his load into you and rides it out with a few more thrusts.

The warmth of his cum dribbles on your skin, trailing further down to your knees when he pulls out. Emptiness scorns your body, pulling it out of the trance and your mind clears up with the post-orgasm clarity. His heat dissipates to cold air when he pulls himself away from you; stepping back, he heaves out a heavy sigh and runs a hand through his sticky and sweaty hair. You take a moment, a short second to compose your breathing before pushing yourself from the table. Your body feels lightweight and relaxed, but at the same time, you're drained. Even standing on your feet seemed like a task you'd fail at miserably. You plop down on the chair instead, hugging its backrest close to your chest and resting your head down against its edge.

"Now, that was something," a deep voice rumbles; the man clicks his tongue and pulls your attention on him. You raise your head up, almost too quickly and it gives you a good whiplash.

"How long have you been standing there for?" Seonghwa questions, pulling his briefs and sweatpants over his waist. He sounds a little breathless as well. Obviously.

"Fuck," you whisper under your breath, your naked form in all its glory in front of the man you hadn't spoken to a lot before.

He stood aimlessly by the kitchen's entrance, giving him the flawless view of you and Seonghwa doing it on the dining table. You were trembling with so much excitement after knowing there indeed was someone watching you while you got dicked down. But you did not expect it to be him. Not at all. The man has a flustered face, cheeks, the tip of his nose and ears, tainted with the subtle shade of red. He wore a black tank top and grey jogger shorts, his long ebony shaded hair sat disheveled yet neatly framed his face; half of it was tied back in a small and messy ponytail, while most of his hair stayed loose and tickled the sides of his face.

"Since she brought up someone walking in on your two," he simply shrugs and steers his gaze away from Seonghwa and onto you, "don't worry, Angel. You were fucking hot, writhing under his body. Look—" he glances down, and you do too, finding a tent in his shorts, "—my cock was so excited to see you like that."

"Well, we're actually done," Seonghwa wraps an arm around your shoulders and leans down to kiss your temple, "she's all yours if you want her."

The man standing by the kitchen, with a chilled water bottle in his hand, muses and contemplates for a good minute before his sleazy smile turns into a mischievous smirk. He unscrews the cap of his water bottle and chugs a good amount of water before sighing out in satisfaction and putting the cap back on. You could roughly translate what his eyes spoke to you at that moment, there's no way you wouldn't understand the hunger and wildness in them. And if you were honest, he was the last person you wanted to spend your time with.

"Sounds good," he mumbles, "we actually have a bone to pick, don't we Angel?"

Seonghwa gawks, "oh really?"

"Yeah," the latter continues, "we better get it done, right Angel." his voice drops down a baritone and his eyes lose their jubilant temperament, "you've already pissed me off too much, Angel. I better not find you stalling today as well."

Dread crawls your stomach and your mind goes blank, if it isn't the consequences of your actions. You're biting on your tongue, wondering how you'd get out of this. If you recall anything from the past, you might remember you were handed a contract and asked to read through it. You stalled, procrastinated and did everything else but pay any attention to that contract over the past week. Of course, now the devil haunts you, just as he had been haunting you in the past week. To your defence, the contact withheld a lot of information and most of the times, you'd fall asleep reading it. So, you put that task off till you were in a good mood and free from your university assignments. That day never came actually.

Yeosang's smirk grows in his cheek, his eyes devouring your naked stature as whole before he heaves out a breath and tugs at the straps of his tank top. You had no idea what he was thinking about. There was no way to know since you weren't a mind reader. But if you could vaguely rely on your imagination, you could tell he was thinking of ways to punish you. And that somehow, turned you on like a bitch. You were yet to venture into his kink, know his preferences and the anonymity itself made you wet, wetter than before when you were with Seonghwa.

"She's all yours, Sangie." Seonghwa kisses your cheek this time, "just give her some time to clean herself. I came in too hard."

"Of course, but yeah," you chime in, an awkward chuckle leaving your lips, "why don't I take a shower and meet you in your room once I'm done?"

He listens to your suggestion intently, ponders over it and breaks his silence to give out his testimony. "It's just cum, I'm fine with it."

As the serenity falls over the three of you, Yeosang clears his throat, "come on now."

You tense up, your shoulders going stiff and your body convulsing; you were caught up in your mind, reeling back to your moment with Seonghwa. Regardless, you were attentive enough to listen Seonghwa's clueless chatter further on.

"What is this about, Sangie?"

Yeosang shrugs, leaning back against the wall and folding his arms over his chest; the way his muscles bulge and flex, cause you to lose a part of your sanity. "Do you want to join us for a round two?"

Seonghwa shakes his head, while you're comprehending what Yeosang had just uttered and why was it so filthily hot coming from his mouth. "I wish," the older sighs, "gotta clean up the mess here and then wake the others up. I've got a few tasks lined up for the day, too. I'm taking a rain check, regardless of how fun it sounds."

His warmth clashes against your forehead when he turns and leans down to kiss it, "Angel helped me with my lethargy in the morning. I'm as refreshed as a daisy blooming on a Sunday morning."

Yeosang hums and Seonghwa adds in a mere whisper directed to you, "I have something planned for you tonight, though. Meet me in my room after dinner, hmm?"

You nod, eyes shuffling across the span of the space to meet Yeosang's; he has something lurking in his, something cruel, a few dwelling strokes of sinister intentions and a bit of malice to have your heart palpitating for no reason whatsoever. Shifting your legs on the chair you sat on, you sense something trickle down from between your thighs; the jolt of realisation strikes you hard and you quickly get on your feet before you stain the chair.

Seonghwa casts you a bemused glance, and upon understanding your actions, he lets out a soft chuckle. "It's fine, Angel. You don't have to worry about it."

You pout, "I wouldn't want to add in to your troubles, you've got a lot of them already."

"I can manage, Angel."

Seonghwa shakes his head and picks up your shorts; he hands them to you and you're quick to slip into them, preventing any flow out that might cause with your curt movements. Running his eyes on your bare chest, and the emerging purple blotches around your neck and tits, he grabs your shirt as well, and tugs it over your head. Exalted by his mannerisms, your heart does a little leap and drops down to your stomach.

"Well, thanks..."

"Are you two done?" Yeosang questions, voicing out his ire and annoyance.

"Yes," Seonghwa laughs, "go easy on her, Sangie. She's new to your kink."

"I'll think about it." The latter smirks and straightens himself off the wall, "any day now, Angel. I hate it when people keep me waiting."

"And it irks me even more when they aren't obedient."

Chapter Text

 How did you end up in this position? Kneeling in front of him, arms bound with a thick rope and held behind your back, and the seemingly innocent ruse he paints on; in his make-believe world, you're supposed to be looked down upon, and he's supposed to have the higher ground to assert his dominance. He wasn't fooling anyone with his charming demeanor, and you indeed hadn't been fooled by his undisturbed personification. Who knew, Yeosang would be one of the wild ones, the kind who are quiet and gentle, who speak less and listen to others talk, the ones who make their opponent believe they know everything about them when in reality they know nothing about them.

The two of you were trapped in a trance of silence, both taking up the empty space adjacent to the bed. A little further into his room, you and Yeosang were both busy with your own things; he eyed you like a predator would eye his prey, and somehow, it seemed to arouse your worst tendencies. A strain in your forearm aches against your posture, making you curl your back into your stomach, and the hemp rope bites into your skin, creating irritated scratches; Yeosang's tongue clicks against the roof of his mouth the moment he hears you whimper. You hold onto a breath of yours, until it's forcing its way out to blend in with the dense air of this room. The dread follows you, lurking in your mind; you could sketch out a rough outline of Yeosang's mind, of his needs. He needs control. He likes it a little too much. Which would explain why you were kneeling in front of him, with your arms shackled in some rope to restrict any movement of your body.

"Did I tell you to stop?" he growls, sighing a minute later, "from the top, again."

You groan, voicing your frustration, "I promise, I'll be good next time. Just let me continue. We've been over this for the longest time, I'm tired."

"Rules are rules, kitten." He rasps, lowering his voice down a baritone, "now, from the start. As I said before."

Exasperated, you straighten up and stare up at him. There he sat on a metal chair, hungry eyes trained on every movement of your body. He sits poised and stoic, putting most of his weight to the side as his elbow which rests on knee. His legs are crossed over one another, and he subtly keeps brushing his fingers under his chin as if he were to be in some deep ponder about life. For a man to be this ethereal, was a crime. And you wouldn't base your judgment on the fact that he was a man, but rather on how meagre his efforts were to delineate his grace. How can a man wearing a simple tank top and jogger shorts, appear this elegant?

Yeosang's lips curve into a silken smirk, almost like a trace of smugness caressing his face before stranding his mien with an unbearable hint of thirst. His soft brown eyes yearn for a taste, for a quick nibble of your bare chest which was on a hankering display. When his silence murmurs louder in your ear, you take a deep breath and scatter your attention across the floor; there laid sheets of black print, words etched in a continuum. Back to the first page, to the very beginning. You had read through the first page ten minutes before. There goes your ten minutes of hard work and patience.

This was a tortuous nightmare which seems to be never ending, a situation having you kept astray in a void of fear and anticipation, tickling every being of your flesh and bones. It doesn't matter how dedicated you are to him, he will find a way for you to lose, for you to give in to your ailing state of mind. So far, he had succeeded in making you feel small, belittled your presence.

Time stands still in this room; all air is knocked from your lungs when proceed to enunciate the first few words on the first page.

"We the undersigned parties, recognise and accept the submission of Moon Angel, hereafter called the 'slave' to Kang Yeosang, hereafter referred to as the 'Master', in a relationship of," you trail away, almost losing your voice, "relationship of voluntary servitude hereafter called 'slavery'."

In this blighted state of affairs, you're in a constant dilemma, whether you should've read and signed the contract beforehand, or not. To your better understanding, it would have been hundred times better if you had just taken out the time to read and sign the contract before. All this humiliation would've been avoided.

"Go on," Yeosang nudges you with a husky undertone laced to his words, "we've got a lot to deal with here, kitten."

Shaking your head, you swallow thickly to wet your sore throat before continuing, "by this instrument, Master agrees to direct, train and dominate, the Slave for Master's pleasure and benefit."

Why were you aroused by this? You'd hate to admit it, but you were soaking wet from reading this so-called contract, by picturing the words jumble up on a pretty risqué imagery in your mind. In an attempt to alleviate the strain in between your thighs, you squeeze them, quite tightly for your cunt to rub against your flesh. Yeosang doesn't let your venture go unnoticed by him; rather, his lips lilt into a haughty smirk, playing the descant game of tease in his head.

Regardless, you press your lips together and mumble, "the slave's tenure will begin on the day of signing this agreement and end on the last day of the twelfth month after the day of signing. A review will take place every three months."

"Do you have any doubts till now? Perhaps, some questions which have been troubling your mind?" he asks, relaxing back into the chair and spreading his legs wide.

"Not really." You respond; however you couldn't resist peeking at his cock when he spread out his legs like that.

You catch the glimpse of his erection protruding through the flimsy material of his shorts; gauging by the outline, you could tell he had an impressive size. Which doesn't really seem to be one of your biggest concerns at the moment. You should be instead, worried about what the future holds for you. It was easy to shrug off every possible leeriness you faced, up until he had asked you to fetch the contract from your room and meet him in his own.

Things went south. Quite quickly. Everything was a blur of moment, seconds dragging to something lesser than them, seizing to nothingness as time paralleled to nix. You entered his room, the dimly lit abyss of ambiguity and confusion; a queen-sized bed in the centre, draped in red silk sheets, and the curtains to the window stayed drawn together to filter out any natural light seeping in. His room was dark, and devoid of any unnecessary things. Even more peculiar, his room did not allow any sounds from the outside to saunter in and vice versa.

The entire aesthetic of his room was an enigma, an elaborate conundrum which would put anyone in a bewildering position. A desk remained shrouded in the dark by a corner, and two separate closets were bound to a side of the wall; one of them was locked with a silver padlock, and it also harboured quite a few intricate pieces of cravings in the wood. The other closet was basic, laminated with a much basic plywood. There was a door situated to the left side of the bed, presumably the bathroom, and to the right of the bed, was where the closets, and desk were located.

After spending the first few hours of the morning with Seonghwa, you were dragged by Yeosang to his room; on the way to his room, by the stairs, you came across Wooyoung who had then groggily greeted you before turning a side eye toward Yeosang. That, somehow, itched Yeosang in a wrong way and awoken something feral in him. He wrapped his hand around your waist and pulled you with him, not caring if you fumbled in your steps or were even capable of keeping up with his pace. First, he pushed you in your room, asked you (in a growl) to get the contract he had given to you and then he dragged you into his room. When the locks behind you clicked, your heart dropped to your gut.

Yeosang's sheer strength was enough to turn you on, enough for your cunt to start dripping at the thought of the other things he was capable of doing to you. He could easily manhandle you, throw you around like a puppet and bend you to his words. Inspecting your body then, he walked around you in circles, until he got too riled up to contain himself. He had ripped your shirt off your body, technically speaking, Jongho's shirt, and now it laid strewn on the floor in tattered pieces.

Many more things unfolded after that, he asked you sink down on your knees, he got himself a red-coloured hemp rope to tie your arms behind your back, and then he dragged a spare chair over in front of you and slid himself onto it. He sprawled the contract papers on the floor, for you to read through them, loud and clear.

And so here you are. In a probable dehumanising position.

"Your restraints aren't too tight, are they?"

"No..." your lips quiver, arms struggling in the hold.

They weren't tight or as uncomfortable as you thought they'd be; though, the rope was biting into your skin and chafing it every time you moved only as to little. You were quite astounded by Yeosang's preferences, and how he dabbled in the art of Japanese bondage called shibari. There's something about him you couldn't place your finger on yet. Regardless, the moment he started looping the rope around your arms and your back, you were crumpled down to pieces.

To Yeosang's eyes, you were a treat. He pities you for not being able to see how luscious you looked with the red ties scattered on your back, and around your chest; the rope did in fact loop around your forearms and crossed at the back, it formed an intricate pattern of a star with how it was tied. And in the front, it ran parallel to your chest, the rope running under and over your tits. Nothing could've stopped him from drooling at the sight of you; you on your knees, half naked and body shuddering ever so lightly every time he glared at you.

"The slave must reveal all appropriate thoughts, feelings and desires relating to servitude without hesitation or embarrassment," he states, clear and firm, "I'm going to ask you again. Are your restraints uncomfortable?"

"No," you reply, confidently.

"As a slave, what must you refer to me as?" he poses another question, still sounding resolute somehow.

"Master."

"That's my girl," he praises you, a smile breaking out on his face before he leans over to whisper, "I did not tell you to stop reading. Please, carry on. My patience is running out."

You take a breath of relief, knowing he hadn't tormented half of your being by forcing you to read everything from the start. But you were also transfixed by his words, by his presence. Gulping down the lump in your throat, you clear your head and proceed to read further on.

"This voluntary servitude may be renewed at the Master's discretion with the slave's consent." you take another breath in, and continue, "It is agreed that this period of slavery will be under the Master's direction and control and will be subject to the following conditions."

Yeosang hums along with you, "let us keep those conditions to ourselves. Why don't you read them in your mind and let me know if you have any concerns regarding them."

You take his suggestion well, spanning your eyes across the printed letters and comprehending them in your mind. As the time passes, the restraints start tugging you down; it was overbearing to hold the straight posture for all this time. Your arms had started to ache as well, going sore from having no freedom to move them around. However, you still held it in, held on the very little of your patience and dedication to get through this.

Reading the conditions, you could tell he curated his preferences perfectly on the paper. The conditions stated were beneficial to both parties; most importantly, they took the slave's gratification into consideration.

"Is everything understood so far?" he murmurs, peeking at you.

You raise your head and nod, "yeah. I think I got the gist of it."

Yeosang hums again, but his jaw clenches slightly and your gut knots itself, "I meant, yes master."

He smirks, "good. You're getting the hang of it." Tracing his thumb under his lower lip, he pulls himself off the chair and takes a few steps closer to you. He crouches down, his aura buzzing around with a certain heaviness, "I want to punish you for not obeying me. I had asked you way well in advance to read through this contract, hadn't I?"

"I'm—I'm sorry, I know should've done it—"

"—don't waste your energy on apologies, kitten. The time's gone."

His fingers pinch your chin and tilt your head further up, forcing you to meet his eyes; the dark, sullen, dour eyes of his show no emotions, not until a spark of lust and carnality breaks out. You gulp, audibly, squirming your thighs together to ease the tension between them. Beyond hope, you knew you had soaked through your shorts, you were sure Seonghwa's cum had slicked out all the way through along with your own arousal.

Dense air in the room leaves you to suffocate on your spit, while his lips caress the tip of your nose and drag along your cupid's bow. He presses a soft kiss against your lips, mumbling them in a haze of sheer want and need. When he pulls back, he adorns a scornful smile on his face, tugging his cheeks softly into his eyes.

"Get on your feet for me." He drags his words to a whisper, "now."

The authoritative tone flips a switch in you, turning your rationality off and switching on your submissive mind. He straightens up and takes a step back, watching your helpless-self struggle to get on your feet. You stumble while trying to bring yourself up from your knees, and the way your arms were shackled behind you, it seemed almost impossible.

Yeosang extended no hand for help, he quite enjoyed the show you had put on for him; a belittling chuckle is trapped in his chest, while his arms are folded over. He waits a beat, for a second to cross the threshold of your clumsiness before he leaps in and helps you up; there it was, his warm hands bracing against your waist, pulling you up on your feet and stabling your wobbly stature.

"Come here," he holds one of your arms and guides you to the chair; the contract sheets lay untouched on the floor, starting to flutter to the winds brought in by the ceiling fan. "Stay still, hmm?" he murmurs from behind you, his warmth painting an untamed desire on your back.

You nod, whispering, "okay."

Before you could voice your other concerns, his presence dithers away. Listening to some shuffles around in the room, you turn your head to find him unlocking the closet which had intrigued you before, the same closet with a silver padlock and intricate carvings on its wooden panels. The doors creak softly at the hinges when he opens them. Amid the pointless dark and silence, you observe him, noticing a soft glint of something metallic in his hands. You were unaware of what he had retrieved from the closet; bewildered, you continue to stare at him as he grabs a couple more pieces from the closet. Stricken by a haze of wonder and despair, you whimper under your breath. Tremors brush your skin, trickling your flesh with an ecstatic desire.

You press your lips together, preventing your needy groans from slipping past your lips; his footsteps ascend to you, while an object rattling in his hand. He stands in front of you now, fixing himself behind the chair to dump the things he was holding in his hands. As he is steadying himself back, you catch a glimpse of his smirk fleeting on his plump lips. When he straightens himself, you notice the objects spread on the chair.

A candle. A pair of what seems like, silver balls, alongside a small capsule-shaped button or something. And a silver plated lighter having a butterfly engraved on it.

A quick flick of lighter turns the flame on, he proceeds to light the candle; the wick burns with vigour, providing to the subtle morning light which had already begun to fade in from the window regardless of the curtains being drawn together. He sets the lit candle on the small desk, located next to his bed, right behind him. You must've failed to notice this one before, not that it matters now because you're too fixated on him, on his actions and what he tends to do with you.

"Ever seen this?" he muses, picking up the silver balls in his fingers.

Letting them dangle from his forefinger, he shows it off to you. It was your first time coming across them. The two marble sized balls were a half an inch apart from each other connected with a fine chain link; they appeared small and delicate.

"No," you mumble, "what are those?"

"Rin-no-tama," he pronounces it in a perfect harmony, and shrugs, staring down at the shimmering spheres hanging from his finger, "or orgasm balls." His eyes meet yours, "don't worry, they only create subtle stimulation. It's more of a teasing device than anything intense."

He strings out his words so casually, lips quivering with a vague smile. Taking a long stride around the chair, he comes to stand behind you; the balls clatter gently against his hand when he holds them by the long tail of chain adhered to the one of them. Your mind is a complete mush at this point, overridden with enthusiasm and anticipation. One of Yeosang's arms comes to tangle around your waist, while the other sneaks up your back and comes into your view. Right in front of your face, he holds the two orbs, their chrome shade alluring and intriguing.

"Open up," he whispers, nudging the balls closer to your lips, and pushing them till you're willingly opening your mouth. "Good kitten."

You moan at the praise; however, it's muffled by the tiny little spheres in your mouth; he continues to push them, trying to settle them deeper, and as he does, the tip of his fingers too sink in your hot and wet mouth.

"Cover them up nice and warm," he suggests, "they'll be going inside you."

Another desperate groan tempts to slip past your lips, but you bite down on it and continue to suck on the balls in your mouth. Yeosang's fingers plunged a little deeper than before, forcing the orbs further down your throat; he hums in satisfaction once he thinks it's enough. Offering a subtle tug on the chain he held onto, he pulls the orbs out and lets them dangle in front of you. They're slick with your spit; a thin layer coats their surface and translucent saliva strings adhere to them in a perfect curve. You squeeze your thighs together, melting at the thought of him stuffing those balls inside you.

"You get really eager, don't you?" Yeosang teases, slipping his hand from your waist to in between your legs; he slaps your thighs apart, and then proceeds to tug on your shorts. "Since it's our first time, I will keep it...easy for you."

As the last bits of his words dither in your mind, you had failed to notice how in one swift motion he had torn your shorts off of your waist. First the shirt, and now your shorts. Both laid littered in pieces on the floor.

"What do you mean—nghhhh!" your voice clamours to a moan, a sudden gelid sensation urging you to close your eyes and revel in it.

"Oh, you know," Yeosang grins, "take things slow with you." He bites down on his lower lip, addressing to you in a mumble, "relax for me, will you. Deep breaths."

Listening to him, you take a deep breath in, your anticipation pulsating past its limit. A second ticks, and he nudges one of the spheres against your folds, eventually dragging them along your slit to slip it in your cum-filled hole; the first orb stretches only so much, burning the pit of your stomach in a momentary heat. He tugs further on the dainty chain holding both of the spheres to have them fit snug in you. The warmth of his fingertips disrupts the peace in your heart; nifty tremors spread across your spine when he pushes two of his fingers in, delving them deep and gently pressing the balls further inside. If you could be honest, the cold sensation of the balls and the drifting warmth of his finger was wrecking your mind, giving you the sensory stimulus you needed so bad.

"Fuck—it's cold," you moan, rolling your hips down on his hand to let his fingers plunge further.

He clicks his tongue, immediately pulling his fingers out and offering one of your asscheeks a light squeeze. "You're not supposed to enjoy your punishment, kitten."

"I'm—I'm not," you stutter, knowing well you were lying to him.

"Really?" he emphasises, groping both of your asscheeks and spreading them apart, "the way you were grinding down on my fingers, it said otherwise."

"I just—I need something more to—need something more to feel..." you trail off, going speechless for the moment when the heaviness of the balls settles in your cunt.

"No, kitten," he slurs, "you don't need anything more."

Yeosang glances at his fingers, coated with your juices and Seonghwa's cum from before; he honestly has no problem with it, and speaking in all fairness, he's used to this kind of plight. Watching the translucent fluid coat his fingers, he lets his lips curve to a conceited smile before bringing his hand in front of your face. His other hand stays tangled with your waist.

He clicks his tongue and prompts you, "lick these off. It's yours and Seonghwa's...afters."

Eager, you open your mouth and let him stick his fingers in; a familiar salty and bitter taste coats your tongue, with tender underlying tones of sweet. Enjoying the warmth and the sloppy confines of your mouth, he thrusts his fingers in till he's knuckles deep. You lap your tongue along his fingers, nonetheless, sucking them clean. Offering a few kitten licks to you his rough fingers, you muffle a whine when he pulls them out with a vile 'pop' sound reverberating around you two.

"Such a good kitten," he muses, "cleaned my fingers with her tongue. She deserves a treat, she really does."

His absence leaves your back, which alerts you and prompts you to straighten up slightly. And with that subtle movement of your waist and your back, your walls to clench around the metal orbs. A curt whiplash of arousal crawls up your spine, making you hiss at the furor which spreads across your body, rather quite instantly. Yeosang's face comes into your view; a face worth admiring, a face you could never get tired off. His eyes nurture a sense of slumber, and his plump lips are seemingly too kissable to deny the urge. The gorgeous man in front of you, standing right behind the chair, which was stuck between you two, had dubious intentions inscribed in the brown specks of his eyes.

Leaning in close to you, he cups your face with both his hands and nudges the tip of his nose along yours; he traces it down to your lips, only for a hot second before ghosting his own on yours. In the next minute, his tongue darts out and swipes under your lower lip. A smile fleets on his face, his eyes glimmering with an untamed desire. The grasp of his hands surrounding your face tightens, holding your face in one place as he abates the distance between your lips. A brush. A delicate brush of his lips wanes you to a complete silence, and it soon blooms in your chest, slipping out of in you in the form on a whimper. Yeosang's lips start lapping up with yours, dwelling into a heated kiss which starts mellowing out every sane thought in your mind.

For the time being, struck with his lips and his hands, you forgot your hands were tied behind your back, you forgot about the rope nicking your skin and leaving red marks behind; you were immersed in the way his lips moved with yours, how he softly grumbled when you tilted your head and deepened the kiss. Breathless, you kept it going, you kept your lips on his while his tongue prodded past them. Yeosang pushes his thumb pads into your cheeks, forcing you to heave a gasp and allowing him to push his tongue in. The slickness of his tongue wraps around yours, tackling it in the further warmth of your mouth.

He moans, sounding it from his chest when you start sucking on his tongue. You push his sloppy muscle out of the way and shove yours down his throat. In the despair of your body, you're slithering beyond to caress the tip of your tongue against his uvula. When his gag reflex kicks in, he groans and pulls your face away from his.

Out of breath and panting softly, he smirks, "my kitten is so desperate." He pushes himself back, continuing in a mere whisper, "come on, we've still got five pages to read over."

Tugging you to the place where you were kneeling before, he forces you to get down; without much hesitation, you oblige to his demand and sink on your knees, the stray sheets of paper kissing your bare skin. The metallic spheres which were sheathed deep in your cunt, fidget with your walls and stroke your arousal. You gasp when the balls plunge in the steepest part, only for the time you were adjusting yourself on your knees.

Yeosang grins to himself, watching you squirm and struggle to keep your spine upright. Hunching over, you fail to notice him extending his hand to wind it around your throat; with a simple and steady jerk, he forces you to meet his eye, his lips encasing one of the most impish smirks ever. His fingers dig deep into your skin, denting it with his mere strength and painting it with little crescents of his nails. The more you stare at him, the tighter his grip becomes around your throat. You choke on your spit, mouth falling agape to the torrid desire of breathing. In all seriousness, his fingers and thumb were pressing against the right places on your throat.

"Eyes on me," he growls, "when you're with me, I want your eyes on me. At all times. Exceptions would be—" he trails off, "—when you're blindfolded, or in any position which makes it uncomfortable for you to look at me." Letting silence speak louder, he bites his lower lip and waits for you to answer. And upon getting none, he snickers, "what do we say, kitten?"

You couldn't really get your words out, not when his hand continued to clasp around your throat, tightening every second and causing your walls to convulse into each other. The worst part, however, was when you writhed to the enthusiasm of getting choked; every time your body shuddered against the floor, the balls inside you built your arousal to its brim.

Regardless of your throat turning dry, you croak, "yes master."

"That's what I like to hear," a smirk splays on his lips, while he loosens his grip on your throat. A sudden wave of concern washes over his tone, "you should let me know if I'm crossing any limits, Angel."

You shake your head, coughing, "it's—I'm fine—I'm fine, really."

"Are you sure?" he asks, a smile wavering on his face before it is replaced with a straight line, "next time we meet, we'll be setting our boundaries. You need to tell me what you're uncomfortable with and what you're okay with. Got it?"

Nodding your head, you weakly string out, "yes, master."

Yeosang seems satisfied with your answer and pulls himself back on his feet, letting go of your throat; he towers over your slouched shoulders, arms folded over his chest as he coaxes you with an encouraging jab of his head.

"Continue. From where we left off."

His footsteps descend down the meagre dark beside his bed; he grabs the candle from the desk adjoining it and carries himself back to you. For a minute, in your state of bemusement, you gawk at his veiny hand which wraps so delicately around the candle. And later when the minute of confusion passes you like a dream, you come to terms with what he has planned for you. Yeosang's lips curve slightly with every step he takes toward you, his eyes glinting with mischief and lust.

"I can't hear you, kitten." He teases, "I'm assuming you've had hefty breakfast in the morning. Gonna need you speak a little louder, kitten."

You shift on your legs, sitting with a comfortable posture, distributing your weight equally on your calves before his words lash on you and make you squirm, causing the balls to twist and turn around in your cunt. The budding tension in the pit of your stomach is too much to contain; if only there was something more to unravel you. Biting on a moan, you nod your head vigorously and swallow some of your spit down to wet your dry throat.

"The slave hands her," you read the next page in line, eyes tearing up gradually from the pleasurable ache pounding at the walls of your cunt, "the slave hands her training over to her Master."

"Hmm," Yeosang hums and displaces himself behind you, "go on."

You're too focused on the reading to notice anything out of order. "The Master may give his slave 'free periods', be it in the Master's presence, where the slave—the slave may express herself openly and freely."

"That's right," he hums, his presence warming up to your back when he leans over slightly, "hmm, carry on."

Heaving in a deep breath, till it convulses your lungs into each other, you proceed, "there will be no punishments applied during these free periods. However, it is understood that the slave will continue to address her master with respect—ah fuck you."

A hot sizzle crawls down your back, trickling further and farther on your skin; the hot sensation traces a mere inch, and it dissipates to a steady streak of coldness. Muffling a whimper, you give yourself a little time to comprehend what had happened.

Candle. Wax. Hot wax. Hot wax on your skin.

You draw your shoulders in, and then roll them out, focusing on reading. As if you could really concentrate on the task at hand, when he is fixated on pouring the melted wax on your flesh. The burn of the candle grows intense on the crook of your neck, while his other hand lingers up and down your spine, dipping down the curve and then pulling back up.

Yeosang clicks his tongue, "you know the rules, kitten. From the top. Again."

You despised hearing those words, those exact words which caused you so much torment and frustration; if you could, you would pick yourself up the floor and leave, but sadly the contract states the otherwise. The contract states a lot of things, all of the phrases are now ingrained in your brain. Of course they would be, you've read them countless times. Even so, with all that you've read and spent your time reading, you hadn't gotten to the end of it yet.

"Please," you whine, "you caught me off guard." Squirming on your feet, your knees itch with an urge to unfold yourself from your position. Though even when the thought of you doing that crosses your mind, the balls in your cunt move, and wreck your body with the soaring pleasure. "Let me read, let me continue. I can't go back and read it all over again. I'm tired."

Yeosang sucks on his teeth, "fine. Let's put a stop to this. Don't worry about the reading for now, just relax yourself and take deep breaths whenever I tell you to."

From the back, he pushes the contract papers aside and they scatter further away on the floor. You're steep in anticipation, partaking in the little games he was playing with you. And to your surprise, he loops one of his arms around your waist and pushes his chest into your back. His other hand, holding onto the candle, comes in your view for a meagre second before it drifts down your chest. Peeking over your shoulder, he directs the candle towards your collarbones, right by the centre. As the wax on it melts, a few drops trickle and trail between your tits; you hiss at the burn, throwing your head back onto his shoulder and closing your eyes shut.

"Does it hurt that bad?" he chuckles, "you're such a pathetic liar, kitten. I know my way around this, the wax isn't even that hot, is it...?"

You press your lips together and nod, whimpering, "but it—but it scares me to not know where and when you'd..."

As you trail off, he chimes in, "when I would drip hot wax onto your skin, hmm?" he stifles another chortle and presses his lips against the crook of your neck, "well kitten, that's the whole point of it, isn't it? You anticipate, live in the thrill—doesn't that get you all hot and bothered?"

His hand which had been around your waist, slides down your lower abdomen and belly to trace circles on your mound; you bite back another whimper because his cold fingertips urged to graze further down to rub your clit. Pressing in circles, his middle finger dips along your slit, the sensation making you mewl. When he presses a little harder, the walls of your cunt tighten around the ovoid device fit snug in the deepest part of you. Yeosang groans the moment he feels your juices and Seonghwa's cum coat his sleek- long finger. He rests his forehead against your shoulder, containing his very urge to shove two fingers into your puffy cunt and saw you out as you deserved to be.

"Yes—yes, it does." You squeak, catching up on your slipping tongue and the hitching breath.

Speaking of truth, you were certainly beyond bothered. This session was dragging on in a painfully slow pace, and you wondered if this is how it's going to be with him at all times. Though, you couldn't completely deny that you were enjoying yourself, just as much as he was by toying with you. Yeosang doesn't utter another word and his warmth strays off your back; the intensity of the candle grows stronger on one of your tits, and before you could react to it in anyway, a good and hot wad of wax trickles down your fleshy tit and taut nipple. Pressing your lips together, you prevent yourself from whimpering to the searing heat, but it soon cools off and hardens around your skin, moulding perfectly.

"Yeo—" at the verge of spilling his name out, you catch your tongue but it's too late, the sweltering wax is already leaking down on your chest.

"I do not recall giving you the audacity to call me by my name." His chuckle is long lost in your ear, "you need to learn, kitten, that, bound in these four walls, I'm your master. Do you understand that, or I do need to fuck it in your brain?"

You swallow the prickly lumps forming in your throat, and nod with an eager look, "yeah, yeah—I understand, master."

"Such a good kitty, she deserves to be treated, doesn't she?"

The nods of your head grew softer but still remained eager; as your foreboding anticipation would crash over you, Yeosang trawls the candle across your chest and continues to do so until he's painted perfect rivulets of crimson wax on your skin. Alluring shade, intricate patterns branching outward on your skin, it was a piece of art how the melted wax framed your chest. You tilt your head to catch a glimpse of the red streaks, captivated by his work. Yeosang grumbles a string of incoherent words, sounding a little off in his satisfaction; you keep yourself from whimpering his name, and shift about on your folded legs. There it was a blinding spark of tightness roiling in the pit of your stomach.

"Please, please, please..." you chanted in your haze of desperation, wanting to be relieved of your misery.

The man leaning against your back, clicks his tongue; his presence starts to dither, the warmth cascading down to a cold breeze of nothingness. He's off and up, the candle disappears from your line of sight, and it fills up with tears. You may not like to admit it, but you were really close to letting go of all the tension in the pit of your stomach. A simple nudge would be enough for you to come undone. Though, in the darker side of your mind, you couldn't foretell any of Yeosang's further moves. Sullen in the state of stillness, you take a deep breath and let the nifty moments roll out. And to your surprise, you find Yeosang placing the candle back to its rightful place; he turns on his heels, the meagre light illuminating a haughty curve of his lips.

"If my memory serves me right," he drags his words into a whisper, "I remember Seonghwa boasting about the head you gave him."

"Is it true, Angel?" your brows scrunch together in bemusement. "I would need to know it for myself, how well your mouth takes me in."

You gulp. Audibly enough for his smirk to lilt on his lips, stretching into his cheeks. "Say ah, kitten."

He prompts you with a mocking tone, having stood in front of you now. You tilt your head up, raising it high to meet his ambiguous eyes, drifting further apart into the dark intentions of his words. Without hesitation, you slack your jaw and open your mouth; all sounds are stuffed back into your throat when two of his fingers push inside your mouth. Pressing the pads of his fingers against your tongue, he pushes them further into your throat. The calloused yet soft skin of his fingers leaves an eerie sensation on your tongue, but you gulp it down and begin sucking on them.

"So warm and soft. Can't wait to have this mouth around my cock," he grumbles, throwing his head back slightly, "you know what, kitten? Why don't you show me what you can do with your mouth. Fuck my fingers first and then I'll decide whether this mouth deserves to have my cock in it or not."

A part of you was extremely pushed into this corner of desires and arousals; it wasn't just a dream for you, and even if it was, you were living it. Did it happen every day that you'd stumble upon an innocent man, seemingly unbothered and unfazed by mere interactions around him, only to find out he's much filthy in his mind than he shows himself to be? No.

Yeosang's way of teasing and slurring his words was turning you on more than you had ever expected. You squeeze your thighs tightly for your cunt to detangle the tension it was sparked with it. Though, it only made matters much worse because your feeble actions had made the balls inside you to create tremors in the pit of your stomach. Contemplating his words, you start sucking harder on his fingers and hollow your cheeks to constrain them in your warmth.

"Fuck," yeosang grunts, peeking at you through his half-lidded eyes, "wonder why I made you—fuck, kitty—" you lap up your tongue around both his fingers, pushing the tip over and under, "—should've ruined this mouth instead of making you read a pathetic little contract."

You hum in response, the gentle vibrations stifling around his fingers. Noticing, he coos, "aww, you agree too, kitten?" his lips curl, menacing a thrill in your stomach, "hmm, I need to know if you deserve my cock, or not."

Taking that as a challenge, you become determined and suckle his fingers deep in your throat; he doesn't resist and pushes into you. There's spit leaking out of your mouth, trickling down your lips and staining your chins with perfect opulent rivulets. He's caught admiring how you had started to choke on his fingers, screwing your eyes shut to help you alleviate the discomfort. You weren't exactly put in a state of unease, but you knew you'd take some time to get used to it. Yeosang's fingers weren't as sleek or long as Yunho's. They were rather girthy and veiny, taking up the entirety of your wet mouth. He keeps scuffing them on your tongue, fingernails digging in your fleshy muscle as he drags his fingers out of your mouth. The moment he's gotten them out, you cough, urging it all from your lungs before lurching forward.

"I'm convinced," he states, licking the fingers which were just shoving down your throat a second ago, "your mouth was made to please a cock."

As the wispy tones of his words dissipate in the air, you hear the soft scuffling of his shorts being pulled down; you peek back up, ravenous gaze creeping up his feet, thighs and then to his exposed pelvis. His shorts and briefs pool around his ankles, and he takes only a meagre second to step out of them. The next thing you know, his silly little tank top is discarded next to the pile of his bottom wear. Honestly, you wondered why he even wore that nifty tank top when it covered almost nothing of his chest.

"Master..." you spluttered through your chest, scoffing up the bits of spit and drool strings coating your chin and lips. "...be a good kitten—suck you off."

At this point, your brain was a mush. A complete mess of carnality, oozing past every limit. You felt lightheaded, and it wasn't because you had been staring, or slobbering at the sight of his cock resting against his lower belly, but because of the two very prominent and pronounced balls moving on about in your cunt. Realisation hits you harder than you thought it would; the balls kept rolling and screwing you over inside, painfully edging you to your orgasm. But they never pushed you to the very end of it.

"Yes, kitty. Patience," Yeosang lulls his words, "I'm just as eager as you to ruin this pretty little thing."

You watch him, helplessly, as he uses one of his hands to wrap it around the base of his cock. He gives it a few pumps, dragging his palm along the shaft to the reddened tip. While his other hand eases up to cup your jaw and his thumb hooks into your lower lip. His fingers rest under your chin, and his thumb prods at your lower jaw; you willingly let your mouth widen.

"Be a good kitty, hmm?"

You nod, shifting yourself on your knees to crawl closer to him. The stinging ache of your bounded arms was starting to turn forgettable. It was all too sudden, easy even, to forget about the pain when you were focused on something else. Here, getting your throat wrecked by him and his cock. Yeosang's size was impressive, really impressive; you don't find any joy in comparing lengths, but he'd easily be two inches above average.

"And I heard from Jongho that you..." he trails off, tugging up at your jaw to force your eyes on him instead of his cock. "...you like staring at—is that true?"

You want to shake your head and deny his petty allegations, but his thumb hooked in your mouth keeps you from moving even an inch. He pumps his cock a few more times before aligning the tip against your mouth. Having propped it opened with his thumb, Yeosang slips into your sloppy warmth without any effort, sinking down on his hips and pulling his hand away from your mouth. You feel the stretch on your lips, not much, but it's still there to remind you how well he had stretched your mouth open with his cock.

A lowly growl peeps from his chest, and he bottoms out in your mouth; soaked in your wet and warm spit, he closes his eyes shut and bites down on his lower lip. "Let me—fuck, so—kitten's mouth is so fucking warm—fuck, kitten, let me know if I can move or not."

You don't really have any mode to indicate him you were ready; so, you push your tongue to the top of your mouth and lick up a stripe under his shaft.

"That's a good kitten," Yeosang smirks, tangling the fingers of his both hands into your hair and pulls you away. "Gonna take my cock deep in her throat, isn't she...?"

With only his tip in your mouth, you rub your tongue around it and he growls which rings out to a chuckle, "fucking hell. Seonghwa was right, this tight little thing can really take a cock in."

He starts pushing on his hips, and you willingly swallow his cock. Reaching deep enough, the tip of his cock brushes over the roof of your throat, triggering your reflex gag in an instant. You choke on your spit but continue to slug his cock further down in your throat. A moan strangles itself in his chest, his mind going numb to the tightness and the warmth of your throat. Yeosang hurls his head further back, his neck arching to a perfect curve while his eyes stay shut tight; you peek up at him, your own gaze shining with tears and innocence. A tiny fracture in time coaxes him to compose and turn his attention on you. You're stalked by his predator-like eyes, every movement, every blink of your eyes, every breath you hitched out of your nose; at a point, you were starting to suffocate on his cock.

"Good kitty," he praises, his voice startling you a bit as it turns softer and melodious. "Sucking my cock so well."

He lets his cock stay buried in your throat for a minute more before pulling back, not completely out, however. You moan in response and flatten your tongue under his shaft, keeping it unmoving for a while. Yeosang fists his hands in your hair, guiding your head down on his cock to let it plunge deep again. The pace of him toying with your head is, steady and slow, easing out every time you gagged or choked on his cock the moment it reached your throat. One of his hands disentangles from your hair and traces around your throat; his thumb pushes right under your jaw, feeling a faint bump of his cock through your skin.

"Can you feel it, kitten..." he growls under his breath, "can you feel my cock—ah fuck—can you feel my cock bulging around your tight little throat?"

You groan, hollowing your cheeks and sucking him in deeper. He gets the answer he was hoping to get; his other hand still twined in your hair, lowers your head on his cock till your nose is scrunched up against his pubic bone, his soft and tender skin tickling your lips and nose. He was well groomed.

"That's more like it," he whimpers, tightening his grip around your throat to exert an additional pressure; it constrained the walls of your throat around his cock, tensing up your muscles. "A pretty mouth for my use."

You really wished you could voice out your pleasure as well. Though, that becomes a lost possibility when he starts thrusting himself back and forth in your mouth. You keep your cheeks squeezed around his cock as the pace of his thrusts picks up. Yeosang's lips part when a hoarse moan slips past them and his eyes screw shut at the feeling. One of his thrusts falls out of rhythm and he slips out of your mouth; glancing down at you, he clicks his tongue, and you eagerly wrap your lips around the tip of his cock. You lower yourself, without needing to be pushed by him. Struck with passion, he rolls his hips into your face and his cock is back in your throat, snug and warm.

When the tip of his cock brushes on your tongue, you taste a slight hint of bitterness from his precum and swallow it down. Spit dribbles out of your lips when he pulls his cock back, slithering onto your chin and further below; he clenches his jaw, the pace of his thrusts surging and continuing to be more spontaneous. He kept plunging his cock deep into your throat, kept your head steady by intertwining both of his hands in your hair. Tears well up in the corner of your eyes; his ruthlessness and roughness were too much for you to handle. You push your conscience through it, squirming in your place when you are struck by the heaviness in your cunt; the balls, they shuffled along your puffy cunt and teased a knot in your gut.

Yeosang's hips rattle against your face, every time he pushed you down, your nose would get rumpled by his pubic bone and that would leave you no chance to breathe. Your lungs burned with the need in your chest, your body slowly starting to convulse to his animalistic lechery. With his every thrust, your chest would heft out, and the puddling streaks of wax would fall off your skin and onto the floor. He would go harder, he can, and he was about to; you knew it well, tears stain your cheeks and drool drips down your chin, drop by drop, eventually falling onto the floor. Clinging onto the last breath you scoured to take, you shift on your knees and the orbs fitted snug in your cunt, give your gut a little nudge to make you cum.

You were close. So damn close. It was starting to turn into a painful endeavour than pleasurable; you were gagging on his cock, strangled by his relentless and aggressive thrusts, and forced to choke on your spit because he won't pull out. Your mouth was a paradise for him, the tightness, the warmth, the way your tongue slopped under and over his shaft, it was all driving him wild. Amid his thrusts, you feel his cock twitch, indicating you he was close to his edge too.

Puffing out a guttural moan, Yeosang heaves a sigh and pulls himself out of your mouth. Sweat covers his body in a thin coat, glimmering against his skin; his hair sticks to his forehead and face, cupping around his cheeks as he pants and becomes too breathless to form words. Aching suffocation makes you cough out the spit which had been trapped at the back of your throat; your body wants to collapse; you want to lay down on the floor and roll into a ball to compose yourself. Regardless of the lethargy and stinging strain on your lungs, you look at him with teary doe eyes, opening your mouth and sticking your tongue out for him.

"Such a dirty little kitty, wants to make me cum, does she?" he mumbles, a smug smile curving his lips and his hands slipping off from your hair. "Then she better fucking swallow what I give her."

A mild throb nicks at your neck from being angled in an uncomfortable position, though you could care less about it; slotting yourself in the similar position as before, you shudder when he rubs the tip of his cock along your lips, and cheeks. You were lost in the ecstasy of your lewd mind, your arousal only minutes away from coming undone; the connection between your rationality and tongue had been severed, you knew you were about to spew nonsense for him.

"Want to make my master cum—make him feel good," you voicelessly utter, your breath fanning over his cock, "kitty will...kitty will swallow what her master gives her."

"Hmm, that's a good kitty," he grunts, nudging his thumb on your chin, "open wide now, kitten."

You do as he says, loosening your jaw and opening your mouth wide for his cock to slip right in. This time, he wastes no time in plunging his cock directly in your throat; his thrusts pick up the instant you start gagging on his cock, the tip submerging deep in your warmth. With his concise and sharp thrusts, your body rattles to his force and the rope shackled around your arms bites down into your skin. One of Yeosang's hands is back into your hair, though this time he collects every strand in a makeshift ponytail and guides your head on his cock by holding onto it. His other hand grabs your jaw, his fingers slamming tight across your cheeks; he presses them hard, compressing the space in your mouth to his cock.

"Ah, yes—fuck, kitten—a really good—ah, fuck, such a good fucking pocket pussy for my cock."

A few more rough and aggressive thrusts send you into a sensory overdrive, a nightmare breaking past the bounds of your mind and coming alive; you were aching with an intense urge to let go of the knot tautening in your stomach. You were on the verge of breaking down into tears and sobbing—hell, you had already started crying. Hot tears exude from your eyes, trailing perfectly down your cheeks and ending up on his fingers; your cheeks were still squished by the way. Yeosang was using your mouth quite adeptly, rutting his hips like an animal and pushing your head against his pelvis. You were so done, so tormented by the spheres clinking around in your tight cunt that you couldn't contain it anymore. You're the first one to fall apart, your body trembling to shambles and your mind fogging up with the aftermath. Your juices pool down on the floor, creating a splash with its sound resonating in the room filled with Yeosang's grunts and moans. Panting to the terrible weakness taking over you, your chest heaves up and down, erratically, your lungs screaming in need for air.

"My kitten made a mess on the floor," he grumbles, peering at the floor where your arousal, mixed in with Seonghwa's cum pooled, "such a bad kitty—fuck, such a bad kitty to relieve herself on the floor." biting back on his moans, he shudders as he continues in his raspy tone, "but my kitty did so good—pleased her master—fuck, so good—pleased her master so fucking well. She–she fucking deserves a treat."

Yeosang's cock twitches in your mouth; his eye had been fixed on your body all this while, learning every detail and habit about it. He admired your ability to gag on his cock, he liked the way your body convulsed in itself when you came, and he loves the fucked up look on your face. Sweat, tears, spit, covering every inch bit of your skin and giving it a shine; besides, your eyes, shrouded by darkness, a tinge of lust which shows how drunk you are on his cock.

"This face—ah, this fucking gorgeous face—next time, I'm taking a picture—fucking keeping it to myself to jerk off to." he's so breathless as he blabbers out.

That was the breaking point for him, your face, the stretch of your lips around his cock as he plunged in and out, and the eerie pleading in your eyes. As a sadist, he doesn't need anything else to feel him lose himself; he just needs your tears, your vulnerable moans and your tormented eyes. One more time his cock twitches in the deepest part of your throat, and suddenly warmth starts trickling down; his load floods your mouth in waves, spurting and gushing all over in your mouth.

He lets go of your cheeks and pinches your nose instead; his other hand still held your back in a ponytail, slowly and gently tugging on it to push you away so he can slip out from your mouth. When he pulls out, a few strings of spit and cum stay linked with your lips and the tip of his cock.

"Swallow." he sternly utters.

The clasp of his forefinger and thumb on your nose tightens, leaving you no choice but to breathe in through your mouth; eventually, you swallow down the entirety of his load. Bitterness of his cum makes you gag, but you still push through and once done, open your mouth wide to show him you had guzzled every last drop of him.

"Such a good little kitty," he whispers and let's go off your nose; he takes a step back and watches your body lurch into itself. You tired, catching up on every lost breath and it amused him how helpless you seemed, coughing, panting, face covered in bits of his cum and spit.

"This isn't over yet, kitten. Get on your feet." He commands in a stern voice, shaking up your body and getting you on your feet. "Sit here."

You find him standing behind the chair, his lips slightly curved. Finding his intense eyes swelter on yours, you somehow manage to stand on your wobbly legs and stumble to the chair. Instead of sitting like a normal person, your knees give in and slump down on the chair, earning an amused yet belittling chuckle from Yeosang.

"Seems like my kitty is tired." he muses with a pout on his lips, stepping around to kneel in front of you. "Don't worry, I'll take care of her."

Muttering almost incoherently, he lets a smile hook onto his face, his cheek fluffing up slightly at one side. Yeosang's eyes hold yours, keeping you arrested in the motion while you try to sit properly on the chair; the light caresses of his fingertips follow up your knees and eventually graze past your inner thighs. He spreads your legs apart, humming in satisfaction at the sight in front of him. You bloomed like a flower, your folds wet and slick; remnants of Seonghwa's cum still showed slight traces around your mound and slit. Yeosang drools, a wad of spit rolling out the corner of his lips.

"Such a pretty little cunt," he rasps, pushing himself closer to you, "a pretty pussy to devour."

The sheer waves of his warm breath ebb over your mound, shuddering your body and making you lose your mind. You throw your head back, arching your neck and lurching behind into the support of the chair. Yeosang whistles lowly, palming his hands further up your thighs and letting them rest too close to your cunt. He uses his thumbs to spread your folds apart, admiring the pretty pink flesh obscured by the limpid texture of Seonghwa's cum. Without any warning, Yeosang dips his head down, fluttering kisses on your abdomen and going lower to your belly. His lips graze your mound, and his tongue slides out, the tip pushing along your slit.

"Fuck—master, please—ah, Yeosang, feels good," you let his name slip past your lips, mentally cursing yourself at the fuck up.

Yeosang acknowledges your little mistake, by nibbling down on your clit with his teeth; it's a gentle nibble, but his teeth sink quite nicely to give you a whiplash. "Strike one, kitty."

"M'sorry," you mumble your head and close your eyes shut, focusing on the way your body had started melting under his breath and tongue.

Flattening his tongue, he laps up your slit and folds, his thumbs stretching you out and propping your open; he gives you soft licks, lapping up Seonghwa's cum. He swallows it down, whatever that he could scour from your pussy. And in a sudden rush, his tongue slithers to your hole, prodding and pushing inside. You tried to hold onto your own hands, your nails digging into the flesh of your forearms; the rope was nowhere near loosening, and that was awful already — but the urge to just tangle your hands in his hair and push his head down, was almost getting the worst of you.

"You'll have to get used to it, kitten," Yeosang huffs out, pulling away slightly only to bury his face back into your cunt; his tongue continues with the abuse, protruding into your hole and lapping up on your walls.

"I know," you breathe out, drawling on your spit and peeling your eyes open to peep down at him. "Oh, fuck," keeping your words to yourself, you stare at the man, absolutely turned on.

His head was between your thighs, his fingers pushing and stretching you out, while he devoured you like you were his last meal. You really did wish to push his head down against your cunt, help him reach to the deeper depths of your warmth. Yeosang's tongue thrusts in and out, toying with the metallic chain of the orbs which were fit inside you. The latter half of the chain dangled out; one of his hands disappears from your inner thigh and holds onto the little dangling chain, while his other hand rakes to your cunt. Giving you no time to comprehend, he slips two of his fingers inside, pushing and curling them to his pleasure and unravelling you.

The placid yet unruly thrusts of his tongue nudged the balls every time, and his fingers did too. You were already lightheaded from your prior release, but as he continued to plunge and shove, the tension for second release started building up in the pit of your stomach. To add to your arousal, Yeosang pokes the tip of his nose along your slit, pressing hard.

"Feels so good, Yeo—master," you quickly correct yourself, a heavy moan gliding across your tongue and making you bite down on your lips. "Hmmm—so fucking good." Your words are left to muffle by your clasped lips.

Yeosang takes it as a nod at encouragement and picks up the pace of his fingers, shoving them in deep and pulling them out painfully slow. His tongue curls inwards, pulsating against your g-spot.

You mewl, "yeah, fuck—right there."

Mumbling against your skin, Yeosang doesn't spare you any mercy. Finding a rhythm, he sticks to it, ruthlessly sawing his fingers through your cunt and his tongue surging deep to tighten the knot in your gut. Only a minute passes, and you clench around him; the metallic balls in you stimulate your release, alongside his fingers and tongue. This was too much, too much to bear; your body spasms one more time before relaxing and untying the knot. Easing out on the tension, your second release floods over you and forces a loud moan from you. All air is knocked out of your chest, sending pleasurable tremors down your spine and readying you for the aftermath.

You peek at Yeosang, who continued to lick and nibble on your cunt before pushing himself back; his skin shines under the limited light of the room, his nose, lips and chin are coated with a thin sheet of your juices.

"You taste phenomenal, kitten." He says, gathering himself together and composing himself on his feet. "Although next time, I'll be wrecking this sweet cunt with my cock."

Shuffling around, he drapes his tank top over his chest and pulls his briefs up; he looks around and clicks his tongue. "Ah, the part I despise the most. Cleaning."

"I don't think I'm in any shape to help you."

"Don't worry, I'll do it later. Let's get you a warm soak first."

"Seems bout right."

You're too fucked out of your mind to comprehend his words, but regardless, you heave a chuckle and close your eyes to let the silence and darkness flow through your mind. As time passes, Yeosang helps you with the aftercare; he prepares you a tub of warm water and pulls you in with him. Your back rests against his chest, while he rubs soothing circles on your thighs, lower belly and arms. Towards the end of the soak, he suggests brewing you a cup of hot tea, to relieve the soreness of your throat.

Once you were out of the tub, he pulls one of his sweatshirts over your head and offers to cuddle you. So, you spend most of your morning in the bed with him, his warm embrace sticking to you like a comforting blanket, while the two of you talk about useless things.

"So..." you trail off.

"So?" he squeaks, confused.

"Doesn't a master need to exaggerate his ownership over his slave?" you ask, biting your lip as you rest your head on his chest.

He snickers, his arms tightening around you and pulling you close, "he does. But what are you insinuating?"

"I've read it in books before, you know. How—how a master—"

"Do you mean collars and all that bullshit?" he instigates, gazing down at you. "Angel, I am not fond of the idea of showing off my possession over you. Besides, all of us here are sharing you with each other. I've always thought of it as unnecessary."

"Oh," you drawl on a breath, "I understand. It makes sense."

Reading the sulky pout on your face, Yeosang chuckles and shakes his head, "but if you want to wear my mark on your body, perhaps exhibit yourself as my slave with pride, then I can get you something."

"Really?" you peer at him, your eyes sparkling at the suggestion.

"Why not?" he muses.

"What are your thoughts on piercings?"

Chapter Text

"Fuck, marry, kill," you drag your words to the point of slurring them with enthusiasm and tease.

"Alright, but what are my options?" San mumbles.

"Wooyoung, Yeosang and Jongho," you mutter the bits, clasping your teeth on your lower lip to prevent any further noises slipping off your tongue.

"What in the fuck—these options are skewed," San whines, narrowing his eyes on you. "But gun to my head, fuck Jongho, marry Yeosang, and kill Wooyoung."

You mimic a pesky gasp, "you'd kill your boyfriend?"

"We're not dating," San deadpans, fingers pressing along your calves. "In the current times, we would probably go by some silly term—oh, like fuck buddies."

"Does he know that?" you pace your words slow, taking in the slightly twitch on his face as you mention it.

San begins with a little shrug, "One might argue that I may—okay, you're so irrelevant right now. I thought we were playing twenty-one questions." as his voice raises at you, he rolls his eyes and lets a curl tug at his lips. "It's my turn now, isn't it?"

"I guess," you shrug your shoulders and lean back onto the armrest of the couch, staring up at the ceiling.

You hear San musing in mere mumbles before he speaks up, "who in our loft, given the opportunity, would you be interested in dating or getting serious with?"

"We're not in middle school, San," you joke, slightly raising your head to meet his eyes, which were fixed on you. "You already know it, don't you?" you mutter monotonously, groaning, "geez, you just want me to say it out loud."

"Accept it, Angel," he gushes, his dimples popping on his cheeks, "you like him. You turn into a sixteen-year-old when he's around you."

"I so do not."

You pout and look away; the alluring haze of sunset shines over every surface in the living room, including your phone kept on the coffee table. Spending your evening with San was never on your bingo card, but when every other person in the house had gone out to carry on with their nightly plans, you had no choice. San worked as a bartender at a local bar, he had no where to be until the dawn of the night. So, he was the only one keeping you company. Though, you weren't exactly alone with him; Wooyoung was cooped up in his room, his and San's room, but whatever, he had locked himself in and no one knew what he was doing.

To tally your thoughts, it was you, San and Wooyoung in the loft. Touché. You weren't familiar with San, and him suggesting a game of twenty one questions, wasn't a bad idea. It was actually helping you two to bond with each other. In much more sterner perspective, you couldn't really get Yeosang and your's session out of your mind; you weren't sure if it was his personality which was unforgettable or the fact that he never really got those orbs out of you. He'd be a jerk if he did it on purpose. Maybe he left them in because that was his way of punishing you. Oh, he really was a dick if that was his intention.

Every time you moved on the couch, you could feel the balls rub against each other and your walls, clenching your cunt around them to stimulate a plodding orgasm. You laid on the couch with your legs sprawled onto San's lap. Your phone buzzed with a melodic song — some random song which started playing from your liked songs playlist. The sinking sun, a much euphonic melody in the background, and San's causal touches which drifted along your calves and legs, you were living the best of your evening. Until San teased you with the question you had been dreading to answer.

"There's no harm in admitting it, Angel." San's chortle grows a notch louder, "you're not the first one to have a crush on him. Besides, he definitely likes you back."

You grow eager listening to him, almost as much as to sit up straight and wiggle your legs in his lap. "You think so?"

"He really does," he emphasises and rolls his eyes, "between us, he didn't agree to our proposition at first. You know, the whole sharing thing."

"He didn't?" you gawk, "I thought it was his own suggestion."

San's brows draw in together on his forehead and he mumbles, "just to be on the same page, we're talking about Jongho, right?"

"I mean," you look away, twirling a tendril of your hair around your finger, "Jongho is a great guy. I admire him. But..."

"I'm kidding, I know you were thinking Yunho in your head," he leans back on the couch, smirking at you. "I was talking about him anyway."

"It's just—it's something about him, you know. He drives me insane," you purr, "he'd be doing nothing, and I'd still drool over him. He will be drinking his morning coffee, and I'll be getting wet just watching him drink it."

"T-M-I Angel," San spells out, eyeing you with an amused gaze, "and on an honest note, you, my friend, are dickmatised." his lips flip into a frown, "you got dicked down by him once, and now you're obsessed. Like, his dick was so good it permanently altered your brain chemistry, forcing you to worship him."

"I hate you for being so right," you grumble, "you're absolutely right. It all makes sense, whatever you're stating. Have I really been turned into a ditz who likes to suck dicks?"

San nods, his lips casing into a soft pout, "yet I've never gotten mine sucked from you."

You roll your eyes, slumping back down on the couch, "don't ask me. After getting viciously throat fucked by Yeosang, I don't have the energy to."

"Did not asked for it, though," he mutters, sliding his fingertips along your exposed thighs; his soft touch sends shivers through your cunt, especially since you were still being tortured by the two metallic spheres snugged in there.

"How was your first time with Yeosang, by the way?" genuine curiosity crosses over his face, eyes twinkling into thin lines as his lips curve.

"Surprising, bewildering, insanely unexpected," you muse, rolling out your shoulders; you stare at the ceiling and ponder, "don't mind me, he seems very closed off, reticent even to be into those kinks. No one, not a single soul, in their wildest dreams, would imagine him as someone who dabbles in sadomasochism."

"The quiet ones are always freaky."

You retort, "Wooyoung is freaky. And he's not even quiet."

"My theory can be flawed." He shrugs and slides his hands further up on your inner thighs.

It was not a good idea to wear a skirt. After your "little" session with Yeosang, you got back to your room and changed into your clothes; Yeosang's sweatshirt was kept in your closet, with neat folds and the whiff of his scent mixed with yours. You grabbed whatever you could from your closet, and it turned out to be this outfit: a simple oversized graphic tee, and a plaid skirt. Laziness got the worst of you, so you didn't bother diving back in for better clothing options. Besides, you were beyond lethargic, feeling spent and tired after your affair with Yeosang, to plan your outfit.

When the lunchtime rolled around, Jongho invited you over to his room with the promise of Chinese takeout. So, you spent the lunchtime in his room, the one he shared with Mingi; you ate, watched a random chick-flick movie and halfway through it you started making out with him. Things did not escalate further as Seonghwa barged in and asked Jongho to accompany him to the gym. And so, your boredom drenched evening kicked off. Eventually, it was only you, San and Wooyoung in the apartment. Everyone else had gone out to do their usual routine of a weekend night; Hongjoong was busy at his boutique, Seonghwa went to meet his work colleagues at a restaurant, Jongho was forced outdoors to a frat party by his college friends, and Yeosang said he had to meet a prospect client for some design work. You had no idea where Mingi and Yunho were, though. And their absence was too loud in the loft. Besides, you were even bewildered to know Yeosang, the man who never really left the loft, had gone out to a buzzing cafe at night.

Pouting, you sulked on the couch, with a random book in your hand from your reading heap, and waited around to catch anyone's attention. And you caught San's attention. He found you listlessly lying on the couch, the book in your hand strewn across the coffee table and your phone blasting some songs he had never heard of before. Looking at him and taking a note of his outfit, which by the way, was a simple sweatshirt and joggers, you could tell he had no plans of leaving the apartment any sooner. So, as time ran past its end, you and San got together on the couch and played the very austere game of twenty questions to get to know each other better.

"Well, but I agree. Looks can be deceiving—what are you doing?" you whimper, noticing the warmth of his fingers ascend along your inner thigh and closer to your dripping cunt.

San simply offers you a halfhearted shrug of his shoulders and continues with his ministrations; his fingers trace in straight lines, dipping into your flesh as they tickle your skin. Sitting up straight to your own desperate whims, you catch him with a mischievous smirk across his face. You want to squirm away from his touch but being pushed to your utmost limit on your satisfaction, you stay in place and let him do as he pleases. Some part of you was eager to know how it would unfold. Untamed by your avidity, you wrap one of your hands around his wrist and give him a nudge. A gentle push to have his fingertips graze your wet cunt; you whimper at the soft caress which soon delves into an aggressive stroke of all his fingers.

"You're really wet, sunshine," he mutters under his breath, his eyes fixed on your face. "Let me guess, Yeosang?"

"Yeah," you breathe out, nodding your head lightly, "he—he kept them in..."

San hauls a gentle titter before shifting himself in his place to turn himself around, facing you with an absolute haughty grin. "And you did not take them out because?"

Your body shudders, "because I know he'd punish me for it. And that he's a jerk—he's a jerk behind the whole innocent facade."

A wrinkle in time bubbles out your desperation and San pulls you close to him by your waist; his other hand stays in between your legs, drawling out delicate brushes of his fingers. Halfway propped up against his lap, your legs are folded from your knees while you angle your back in a way to give him better access. He has you trembling under his touch. Willing to the oncoming consequences, you spread your legs wider. The sight in front of him was a sheer delicacy to feast on; your wet panties, showing off the dark patch in the centre and how flimsy material was to wrap around your folds, defining them. Your skirt furls around your waist, fluttering down as San continues to palm your mound through your wet panties.

Tears well in your eyes, ready to pour out any given minute as it becomes too much for you to handle; it reels you back to Yeosang's room, how desperately you were getting aroused, courtesy to the balls he had stuffed in you. You peek at San, lower lip lolling on your chin, and wrap your hand around his neck to pull him in. He hesitates a little when your lips meet his, lapping up and teeth tugging at his lower lip. San continues to rub you through your panties, grumbling into the kiss as his other hand rests gentle on the side of your waist. Starved in lust, you devour his lips, pressing the kiss further into a hot and heavy make out. You pull back only a little to drag your tongue along his chin and up into his parted mouth; his warmth forces you into a frenzy of desperation, your tongue slithering with his and lapping up against every cranny in his mouth.

You start rolling your hips into his hand, wanting more of the heavenly friction his fingers offered. "Fuck, San. Your fingers feel so good."

"Hmmm," he moans softly, and paces the grinds of his fingertips in a placid manner, teasing out your arousal.

Too bothered by his warm tongue wrapping yours, you let him continue with the gentle fidgeting he drawls on to move your panties to the side. You straighten your back and withdraw your tongue from of his mouth; spit glimmers against his tanned skin, it covers up an inch till his chin, more of it dribbling down his lips. Tightening your fingers in the tuft of his hair which sits neatly on the nape of his neck, you push yourself back into the kiss. This time you roll out your tongue over his lips, prompting him to do the same. Both of your tongues tangle into each other, spit drooling down your chins and lips. San pushes the tips of his fingers along your slit, having finally gotten your panties to the side. Your gummy walls clench around the balls, while his forefinger brushes against the nifty chain dangling from your hole. Pulling back and disentangling your tongues, you peer at him with your teary eyes. You wanted to guilt trip him into taking the balls out of you; it was starting to get painful, teasingly painful. For once and for all, you wanted to achieve the high of your release without having been put through the torment.

"Take—take it out, San. Please." you plead with sheer despair, inching your hips forward for his finger to slide up and down your slit.

San grunts through his chest, "I can't—I can't help you, sunshine. Yeosang might discipline both of us, if I do, and he won't be gentle, not at all."

"But—"

"—I know, sunshine. I know," he smiles pitifully and leans in with his tongue sticking out; you pout and roll yours out as well, lapping it up with his until you wrap your lips around his tongue and give it a good suck.

Amidst the heated pleasure, San's forefinger and middle finger prod at your hole, slipping in with ease because you were beyond aroused; your wetness had coated every inch of your folds, making it convenient for him to slide his digits in. When his fingers curl inside you, alongside the snug little orbs, you hold onto his shoulders to keep yourself straight. Nails digging into his skin through his sweatshirt, make you realise how riled you were. Your lips are still wrapped around his tongue and eventually the kiss dwindles to soft suckles of each other's tongues. Squeezing San's shoulders in between your hands, you throw your head back and arch your neck. San takes it as an opportunity to dip his head in and trace light kisses up your throat and then gradually under your jaw. His fingers pushed and pulled, the tips grazing against the balls to stuff them deep in you.

"San, don't stop. Go deep—"

Thud!

"How many times have I asked you not to go there?" a loud voice booms through the vestibule after the door is slammed shut. The mere vibrations echo out to you, startling you and San with the sudden intrusion.

Flinching away from each other, you and San exchange wide eyed gaze before another voice yells back.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry I didn't take your permission before going to meet my girlfriend!"

At this point, you both knew the row between the friends had gotten heated, both sounding too frustrated for any good. You always took Yunho for a soft-spoken guy, the kind who would never raise his voice at anyone; although, you couldn't say the same for Mingi, you always assumed he'd be loud enough in arguments. Unfortunately, you couldn't have been more wrong about your baseless judgements. Yunho's voice was the most prominent one, a little high pitch underlining his coarse and raspy baritone. On the other hand, Mingi muffled his words because of his sonorous voice.

"Are you being fucking serious right now, Mingi?!" Yunho yells, the sound too boisterous for you two.

San ceases the movement of his fingers and pulls his hand away from you; footsteps get heavy, ascending your way. You're shushed by San, his finger on pressing your lips before you could vocalise your concerns. The pair shuffles in, however lost in their own squabble to notice your presence in the living room. Eyes wide and mind in the state of bemusement, you watch Yunho bite down on his lower lip as he storms into the kitchen, Mingi following right behind.

San brings his hand around yours from your lips, tugging on it gently to get your attention, "you do not want to be in this crossfire."

Prompting you by your hand, San drags you from the couch and you willingly follow him upstairs; the two of you hadn't been under the light for Mingi or Yunho to realise you were there. Maybe, they were too fixated on their fiendish disputation to notice anything around them. Your feet are soft on the stairs, preventing any creaking or sounds to usher the two of your presence; San halts himself at the top of the stairs and so do you. There had been an undying urge in you to listen to their stentorian argument, so you acted on your curiosity and leaned against San, both peering into the living room to catch a glimpse of the two hotheads.

"And what, you don't get to derogate me while being a fucking hypocrite!" Mingi squalls.

Yunho retorts with a belittling laugh, "at least that's better than fucking around with a bitch who has no affection for me."

"Keep Lani out of this," Mingi lowers his voice, but it's almost threatening, "I haven't dragged Angel into this. Not yet."

"And dare if you do," Yunho replies, "unlike Lani, Angel has some standards."

"Yeah, I'm sure that whore does."

"What did you say?" Yunho retaliates, his voice booming loud against the four walls.

"Nothing," Mingi sternly replies.

Silence befalls, taking you off guard; you turn to San and whisper with a pout, "what is happening?"

You wanted to voice your concerns you still had the chance to.

"It's one of those times," he mumbles, "they both get too worked up over minor matters. And I don't need to tell you bout this one, do I?"

"Yeah, I got the gist of it from their colourful language, but why me?"

San shrugs, "you know, they both can be really stubborn when it comes to someone..." He takes a deep breath and wraps his arms around your waist, "someone they, ummm, care for."

"Oh..." you trail off, latching yourself onto San's arm and leaning forward to get a good listen to what was happening downstairs, "but it's not like I'm purposely trying to wedge a fight between them."

San takes a deep breath, heaving it out with partial unease as you push your chest into his arms; your tits smush up against his bicep, the fleshy sensation flustering him to the point where you peek up at him unknowingly and find his cheeks in the prettiest shade of red. He's timid and shy, probably not the kind of guy to initiate anything; even if he does, he will weigh all the consequences in his mind and hesitate to act on his feelings. Though, you're disgruntled by Yunho's and Mingi's argument. It was clear you were the centre topic of their altercation. You had no such intentions however.

"Right—right, you are not. But—"

"—fucking watch your mouth, Mingi" Yunho grunts, disrupting San's sleek words. "Agreed, you and Angel don't get along, though that doesn't mean you'd talk about her in such a vile manner."

"Weren't you talking shit bout Lani before I brought her into this?" Mingi's words reverberate densely in the air, percolating within the dead space, "so it's okay for you to run your mouth but I can't? And the validity of your opinions and judgments is only biased towards me, isn't it? I can't talk about Angel to you because you like—"

"—It doesn't matter. And you're wrong, so wrong. If you're going with that theory, shouldn't I question your affection for Lani too? I'm sure I'm justifying myself well." you could hear Yunho scoff, the disbelief clearly evident. "I don't know what it is that makes my gut twist this way, but I do not trust Lani one bit. Every time I hear about her from you, or from anyone else for that matter, my stomach does a wretched flip, and I don't feel good in my bones. Not at all." There's a pause between his words, as if he was measuring the degree of anguish his speech could cause to Mingi...

In a complete distraught segment of your mind, you were focused on the way San's arm was slotted between your tits and his palm was profusely ghosting its touch along your cunt through the skirt. This might be an off putting notion to many, but the slightly raised voices of Yunho and Mingi were turning you on; had you always have had such kink? Or did it come alive after listening to Yunho defend you with his coarse and rugged vocals? Probably yeah.

You heave out a hot breath, fanning it against San's shoulder when you lean in, almost throwing yourself onto his side. San is taken back, surprised to find you riled over the insistent bickering between the two best friends. Still, as his cock strains in his sweatpants a little tighter, he goes along with it. The nifty touches his fingers cascade through the hem of your skirt and trace under. His fingertips prod against your drenched folds, the flimsy material of panties clinging too close to your skin; he rubs his finger pads along the slit, pressing them harder with each rub.

"San," you mewl, desperate for him to yank out the balls snug in your cunt. "Please, please, please. Take them out."

San breathes in sharp, succumbing to your whines and desperation; but he knows better than to act on his commiseration. "Angel..."

He spells out your name in a delicate haze, almost rupturing every syllable with a yearning of his own. You look up at him, tears swelling in the corners and lower lip jutting out. It could be possible that you were really close to crying. Only if Yeosang was there to see it, after all he finds it pleasurable and delightful when he sees a pretty woman cry. Regardless of your sentiments having affixed on Yeosang, you couldn't resist whining under your breath again, teary eyes glimmering at the man in front of you.

"Please—"

Crash!

The twinkling noise of glass shattering fills up the space between you and San. Perhaps you were on edge when you flinched away from San and grappled holding onto him. To your knowledge, the latter had been taken off guard as well, it was clearly etched on his face and raised eyebrows. Before the two of you could speak up, a door swings open and a high pitched voice comes booming out.

"What's happening...." Wooyoung's eyes go wide for a mere second as his attention rakes over you two and his words die in his throat, "downstairs? If you two are here...who's downstairs?" he whispers, stepping out from behind the door and into the hallway.

You take a minute to notice him; wet hair (almost), and a silk robe around his body. He must've taken a shower. You thought. With gradual steps ahead, he comes to stand in front of you, arms folded over his chest. The robe slips from his shoulder, only enough to give you a glimpse of his chest and the left pec; besides, a swirl of black peeks from underneath. A tattoo? Perhaps.

"Mingi and Yunho," San spells out in his hushed voice, "they're—arguing. A feud. Or whatever. Lani and Angel are involved."

"Oh, I get it." Wooyoung nods in acknowledgment, focus shifting on you, "are you two eavesdropping on them? Cause if my memory serves me right, weren't you two in the living room as well?"

You clear your throat, scuttling away from San by a step, "your memory is sharp. We had to get out of there before the place blew up. That is all."

"That is all?" his lips curve into a smirk, gaze following a straight line to San's pants, "it seems to me, by me I mean by an outside perspective, that you two had your minds set on fucking each other in this very hallway."

"No—"

Your heart drops into your gut; not because Wooyoung had spoken your mind but because you could hear ascending footsteps speeding up the stairs. All of three of you split in a fraction of second, scurrying into your respective rooms. Wooyoung and San were in theirs and you were in yours, back pressed up against the door the moment you closed it behind you. The same heavy and lurking footsteps follow, paddling further down the hallway. You held your breath till you heard a door close thud. It was Mingi. Doesn't require a lot of thought to know who it was. And guessing from Mingi's deliberate storm off, you are sure Yunho would follow him to his room.

That's what you thought.

When you take a minute to compose yourself and step away from the door, you hear the doorknob rattle ever so gently before the door flings open inside and in marches Yunho. Your head spins in its place, wondering how you were pushed up against the door while being entangled in his arms. Time doesn't know its bounds; trapped by his body, you're pushed back into the hard door, and his arms are around your waist, his lips on yours.

How did it happen? Everything's a blur.

The kiss isn't gentle or passionate as it should be, it is rather aggressive and impatient; this isn't how you know Yunho kisses, he's typically slow and likes it sloppy. His kisses give you enough time to adjust to his roughness and warmth. You couldn't say it for this one. Not when he had already shoved his tongue down your throat. Easing yourself against the door, you slant your body along his and grab onto his shoulders to support yourself. He already has his tight grasp on your waist to keep you steady to his ministrations; how sternly he prodded his tongue beyond yours and suffocated you with it.

You want to shove him off. But at the same time, you want to pull him closer to you. You want to feel every inch of his body against yours. Yunho grunts, the mellowed out vibrations strumming through your mouth and heading straight to your pussy; as if the metal orbs weren't enough to stimulate your release. Your arousal drips through your panties, drenching them fully. Hearing little crinkles of his beaded bracelets and necklace, you're left to take a breath of fresh air when he pulls back, his tongue slithers out of your mouth, spit coating every bit of his lips and yours too. Translucent strings of saliva connect your lips to his, falling out in perfect curves till he's leaning back in to abuse your mouth. It took one snap in the dense air between you, for his eyes to lose their light before he began sucking your lips. His tongue is back in your mouth and you don't hesitate, you let him in instead, letting him use his tongue to rile you up.

The warmth of his hands cups your face, chilling up every bone in your body when he bucks his hips into yours; there it was, the warning ache in your lower belly. You were close. So close. The stimulation was overbearing at this point. First, Yeosang's sadistic little sex toy bothered you, then it was San who couldn't ease out his temptation to rub you out, and now it's Yunho, eventually grinding his hips into yours. You have your arms wrapped around his shoulders, hoping he'd let go of you. He doesn't. His tongue drags across every corner in your mouth, over and under your teeth, before plunging deep in your throat; your moans and whimpers are muffled, purposely by him. You were voicing out your protests, but there was no use, was there?

Shushed by his lips on yours, a meagre second breaks apart the littlest serenity in your body; weak and feeble, the astonishment of being weightless catches up with you. Your back slams against the wall where the futon is situated and he is all over you, pushing you into it, trapping you under him. His hands sear their touch on your waist, keeping you confined in one place as he continues to do what he had been doing. The ache dissipates almost immediately due to Yunho's warmth enclosing your face and body, rapturing your senses beyond your perception of pain. Your hands slide up his shoulders, fingertips tickling the sides of his neck, as soft as they could, before tangling them in his seemingly frail faded blue locks. Earning a grunt, reviving from the back of his throat, you moan and he pulls you into his body. The push and pull was inexplicably agonising; you were all into the roughness Yunho had to offer, but wasn't this too much?

And perhaps, your desperation to feel every ounce of pleasure slashed out your rationality, but you were definitely aware of Yunho's aggressiveness slipping up every limit your body could endure. Even if it was only kissing, and toying with your body as if you were a mere puppet on strings for him, you had your spine bracing with perturbation.

You're out of breath, yet choose to make no effort to push him off you. His lips are devouring yours, as if he were made to starve for the entire day; though, all the noises of your mind are silenced by his tongue, rubbing in the farthest corner of your mouth, almost touching your hanging uvula. It triggers your gag reflex, and when he find you twitching because of it, he pulls his tongue back to yours, toying with it to satisfy himself. You were struggling beneath him, preventing yourself from crying because your desires were getting pent up in your chest. It'd be one thing to get teased, but it's another when you're overly stimulated by him and the sex toy Yeosang chose to keep in you. His breath tangles with yours when he breaks off the hungry kiss and wrings his tongue of your mouth; he seemed absolutely ethereal, a little maniacal with the red in his eyes, but besides that, he appeared too fuckable to you. Red and plump lips, a sheer coat of spit covering them and chin, and the drool which dribbled down. You were tempted to act on your inhibitions, wanting to touch him in ways you had only imagined before.

"Oh fuck," he grumbles under his breath, watching your pant and have your chest collide into his. "Fuck, princess..." the probable incoherence is due to him having his chest convulse the way you do, yet he scours his sound and smirks lightly, "I am—I am sorry in advance. But I'm not going—I'm not going easy on you."

With that, he's reeling back in to taste your lips on his. The kiss wild, manic-frantic, almost too devious for you to keep up with him. He drops his hands from your waist and slides one them under your skirt, skipping across your thighs to your drenched panties. You didn't think he'd be gentle with you, and he really wasn't; you gasp into his mouth when his fingertips nudge against your dripping cunt. The pads of his long and sleek fingers rub you off, going up and down your drenched panties. He heaves a guttural moan, rumbling deep within his chest when he finds how wet you were. He knows there had to be a catch.

"Princess, why the fuck are you so wet?" he mumbles against your lips, "my little whore of a princess likes it when I get rough, doesn't she? Prefers to be manhandled." He chuckles softly, "and a little body like hers can't tolerate my strength, can it? Hmm, such a good little slut, taking everything without protesting."

You had no sense for self; responding to him felt like a task, and nodding wasn't possible since his lips had trapped yours again, constricting any movement of your head. He wasn't partly wrong however. Ever since he barged into your room and began afflicting himself on you, your body had reacted differently—you liked being tossed around like a mere toy, you liked how rough his lips were getting every passing second, you fucking loved it when he pushed you on the futon and trapped you there. Nonetheless, you were losing your mind when his fingers hooked under the waistband of your panties and slithered right in.

"Ah, is this why..." his words are caught in his throat you clasp down on his lower lip, teeth sinking deep into the flesh.

He had just touched the dainty chain dangling out of your cunt, the one which adhered the orbs together. Yunho's fingers curl around the chain and in one swift motion, he pulls it out, alongside the orbs. Your walls clench around nothing, leaving you empty. Odd. You felt discomfort creeping up your spine without having anything in your cunt to keep you bulged out, or even to stimulate your release anymore. Yunho lets a dark titter pass his lips, pulling back from the kiss and resting his forehead on yours; he brings his hand out of your skirt, holding the balls in a pinch, swaying them in front of your face.

"Fucking hell, my princess is such a naughty little whore," he states, lips structuring into a mischievous curve, "wanted to cum without having a cock inside that tight little thing of hers, did she?"

You shake your head lightly, nibbling on your lower lip; you were unable to make a sound, or utter what had been clouding your mind.

"Too speechless are we?" he breathes out.

Without thinking much, he tosses the chain of balls to the side and the sound of them rolling down breaks him out of his head. He dives back into the kiss, ferociously devouring your lips, sating his inner thirst; you go along with it, giving yourself to him completely. Yunho's aggression was only pleasant till you were stimulated by the kegel balls Yeosang had left in you. By the time his lips were back on yours, an unknown discomfort started settling deep within your gut. So far, you were bearing Yunho's bellicose attention. It was all fun and games until he shoves one finger into your puckering cunt; your hole eagerly invites his forefinger in, all the slick helping it to delve deeper inside.

You mewl, breathing hard and screwing your eyes shut. "Fuck—fuck too much, Yun..."

The feeling wasn't unpleasant, but your gut kept twisting and knotting in itself to indicate you something was off-putting. He increases his pace, exerting pressure on your clenching walls, causing a sharp ache to run down your spine. You throw your head back, hitting the wall in the process as his body pushes into you; with his head buried in the crook of your neck, he starts sucking and biting on your flesh, creating purple bruises across your skin. Tremors spread throughout your body, making you spasm as you wrap your arms around his shoulders to stable yourself. He didn't pace the thrust of his fingers steadily, regardless, he even added another one; his middle finger and forefinger plunged in and out of you, curling and brushing against your sensitive spot.

Yunho's far gone. He's too distrait to perceive your pained groans, or even your feeble attempts to push him off. The pique of arguing with his best friend was clearly evident in the way his fingers moved inside of you. You let out a gasp when his teeth sink in that one particular spot on your neck and your hands reach into his hair to nudge his head away from you.

"Yunho!" you scream, "stop."

And maybe it was for your amplified voice that he pulled himself back into his senses, snapping cruelly against the reality. Realisation settles deep within his gut, straying him off the spiteful ire and aggression he was caught in. His movements are dawdling thereafter.

"I'm so sorry..." he tries to reason with himself, his conscience breaking down his pugnacity.

Guilt plucks at his heart strings and he pushes himself off of you, eventually dragging himself away from to the edge of the futon. He sits slouched, head hanging low and his breathing ragged. You take a moment to compose yourself, conflicted on your thoughts. Do you comfort him? Do you ask him what's wrong? Do you nullify his behaviour and pretend everything was normal between you two?

Silence consumes every wrinkle of time, dragging both of you down with it, down into your unnecessary inhibitions and sentiments. Still stuck in a dilemma, you kept glancing at him, unsure and hesitant to approach him. It must've been more than an hour since you two had dwindled past the incident. Yunho sat still, rethinking, overthinking, letting everything overwhelm him. There must be a reason why he hadn't uttered anything for the past hour. Maybe his guilt wasn't letting him speak. Maybe he's self aware to realise his mistakes. You couldn't put your finger on it. Leaning back against the wall, your arms wrapped around your chest, and your eyes stuck to him like glue, you really pondered whether you should be the first one to make a sound or not. Maybe you should.

"Hey—"

"—don't," you squeak only to be interrupted by him with a growl. "Don't try to make me feel better about what I did."

You press your lips together, "I don't know what to say, to be honest."

"You don't have to say anything," his head falls further down, his shoulders rolling up, "don't worry, I'll leave."

"Stay," you mumble, crawling towards him by the edge, "please stay."

"Angel, don't let me guilt trip you into doing something you don't want to," he states, as firmly as he could, his voice deep with certain degree of crack at the end.

You shake your head, wrapping your arms around his chest from behind and resting your chin on his shoulder; you peek over, wanting to catch a glimpse of the sullen man. "You're not guilt tripping me into comforting you."

Yunho sighs, tracing his hands onto yours and given them a light squeeze. "You heard everything, didn't you?"

You nod, "I did."

His eyes lurk onto yours, lower lip puckering out. "We're not—I can't justify myself. Or even that argument."

"You really don't have to." You reply, "I'm not asking for a reason." Biting your tongue, you sigh, "you should confide in me, Yunho. Get it out of your head. I'm here to listen."

A quiet minute drags on, forcing you to take the matters in your hand. You slip away from behind him, carefully pulling yourself into his lap and wrapping your legs around his waist. Softly tugging his chin up with your dainty fingers, you make him face you, your other hand on his shoulder. There's meagre light in his eyes, shrouded by dense dark of his brown specks. You're not sure what he hides beneath it, what he was thinking, what he had been thinking. His lips push out to a pout, hands instinctively wrapping on either side of your waist.

"Angel, you don't have to do this." His voice is delicate and bleak as he groans.

"I feel like I have to," you bring both of your hands to cup his cheeks, staring deep into his eyes to decipher the lost meaning in them. "It's not an obligation, I don't feel obligated to. Though, I believe we should talk about it rather than sweeping it under the rug."

Yunho heaves out a heavy breath, thumbs rubbing circles into your skin and lips trembling to speak. "Fine," he mutters, clearing his throat to speak much firmer than before, "I lost control. Couldn't tame the frustration in my head and it all had to come out on you instead."

You hear the guilt in his tone, watch it flash across his face when he looks away from you. He continues, "we have an arrangement, I'm aware. Should it compel you to do something you're not comfortable with? No. You don't have to. You could've shoved me off the moment I pinned you against that door. You should've hit me, punched me, slapped me even..." he trails off, catching up on the murmurs of your sniffle, "...hey, I'm not trying to blame it on you. I'm trying to tell you what you could've done instead of going along with me."

You let his words sink in; the farthest corner of your mind replayed the moment where you could've pushed him off of you, but you didn't. Why didn't you? Did a sick part of you enjoy it a little too much to act on it? Had you pushed him off, would he have not felt as guilty as he is now? Were you blaming yourself? You sure were. Was there any point in it? Nope. Not at all.

"Talk to me," he coaxes you with a soft voice, hands tugging on your waist, "it scares me how quiet you are. Please, say something."

You hadn't realised how long were you quiet for, but the desperation in his eyes told you were biting your tongue for quite a while. You shake your head, and let your hands drop to his shoulders, clinging onto him.

"Yunho," you speak up, yet your voice barely reaches him, "I don't..."

"What is it, hmm?" he hums, resting his forehead on yours.

"I think I know why you were so angry," you mumble, sliding your hands on his chest, "but hearing you and Mingi argue over me, kind of turned me on."

You blurted out the one thing you never wanted to. Now, you were terrified to know how he'd react to the piece of information you just passed on. Maybe he'd be disgusted? He'd think you are a freak who...or maybe he'll just want to stop seeing you. Okay, we should put an end to your overthinking state of mind at the moment.

"What?" he chuckles, "oh princess. You did not just say that."

"It's the truth," you retort, "when you were growling at Mingi, trying to defend me, that was hot."

"Really?" he teases you, his hands falling down to your ass, caressing it in his big palms. "And here I was silly to think you wouldn't like that part of me. Tell me princess, do you like it when I get angry?"

Your cheeks turn red at the malicious tone he was using, stressing his words with a seductive voice.

"Yeah, I do." Senses clouded by lust, you give into your inhibitions, wanting nothing more than to be railed by him in the exact moment. Though, this time, a tinge of rationality clutches your dubious desires and makes you squeak, "but, why were you so mad for? What did Mingi do?"

Yunho snickers, sighing out adamantly, "don't act coy, princess. You heard him, didn't you? He called you a whore."

"So?" he cocks his brow at you, "would I let his judgement ruin my mood? Not really. Perhaps, not at all."

Yunho sighs yet again, "are you implying I overreacted to his comment?"

"I'm sure he only wanted to get a reaction out of you," you shrug, tightening your arms around his shoulders and pushing yourself into his chest, "honestly, you two were being hotheads for nothing."

"You don't know that!" Yunho retaliates with a half-hearted whine, his eyes meet yours and he sighs, "look, Mingi's girlfriend and I don't get along. Never have, in fact. And I don't see any brighter lights for the future too."

You ponder on his words and hum, "well, your resentment has to start somewhere, right? You can't just up and hate someone without a reason."

"I think I have a pretty damn good reason to not like her," he murmurs, squeezing your asscheeks, "well, it started when Mingi pitched the idea of going on a double date. We had just started dating these girls from our school and I thought why not?" he licks his lower lip, "I met Lani for the first time then, she was bearable at the least, for the time being. Then as days passed, certain qualities about her began to strike me as insufferable."

"Insufferable?" you repeat, emphasising on your astonishment.

"In a way, yes." He breathes out, seemingly frustrated at the thought, "she only acts affectionate towards Mingi when she needs his help or money. Other times she's surly and distant from him. Wouldn't that annoy anyone?" sighing, he channels his ire out through a breath and peeks up at you, his eyes darker than before, "it annoys me. A relationship is a two way street. You can't expect—well never mind."

You press your lips together and suppress your voice, not understanding what to speak of in this situation. You obviously did not want to add fuel to the already burning and scorching flames; it really does seem that Yunho despises his friend's girlfriend more than anyone else.

"Yes, relationship is a two way street," you agree, gently cupping his face with your hands. The soft touch, he leans in to, causes for your heart to skip a beat. "I'm not saying it just for the sake, but come to think about it. Mingi is a grown up, he surely knows what's going on with him and his girlfriend. Maybe he chooses to not believe it because it's better that way. We all tend to blur out the truth when the lie seems sweet enough to be true."

"But do you not think..." Yunho trails off, his gaze lowering to your thighs wrapped around his waist. "You know, I'm not so fond of this position; I may be fixated on thinking about Mingi's situation but you're not helping with all this. You're really not a good distraction."

You click your tongue, "actually, I'm a very reliable distraction."

"Oh please," he subtly rolls his eyes, a smile stretching his lips. "Prove it."

"Right now?" you ask him wide eyed. "I thought we were setting out for a heart-to-heart talk about your problems with your boyfriend."

Yunho scoffs, "he's one of the major reasons why I need a distraction." He peers up at you, lips lolling out to a pout and his eyes glossing over show an innocent ruse. Though, after a long second, he shrugs and dismisses it off. "But it's fine if you don't want to. Your consent matters."

Not uttering a single word, you lean in and press your lips against his, your arms tightening themselves around his neck. You push yourself further into him, getting the much needed friction of your chest with his; an insatiable desire erupts from the pit of your stomach, gradually rising up until your chest. In the past, the whole of three moments you've had with Yunho, can't be compared to this one. The more your lips stayed on his, the more ravenous your desires were turning out to be. If there was any doubt in your mind, you'd have acted on it. You hadn't yet. Given the few prior instances where you were actually terrified of his demeanour.

Rolling your hips into his, you could feel his cock starting to stiffen up against your stomach as you continue to grind on him. If there's anything you know better, it's riling Yunho up; you don't even have to do much, just turn off your rationality and let your lecherous desires consume you. It doesn't come to you as a surprise, but when you do, it's like staring into a mirror. You're both very alike when it comes to expressing your sexual preferences; maybe a little too similar.

The kiss continues to dwell on both of you, rapturing your senses to the havoc it was creating in your chest and stomach. You could almost feel your guts knotting themselves through, and your stomach grumbling with an unquenchable want. Regardless of how addicted you are to his lips, and likewise, you pull back when your thoughts are rumpled away into forcing you to breathe. Though, he doesn't see it as a stop sign; Yunho buries his head in the crook of your neck and starts nibbling on your sweet spot, just right below your ear. He knows it too well now, you can't help yourself when he toys with that spot—he's too accustomed to your needs and body.

"Fuck," you whimper, pushing out the air from your lungs. "Please—please, I need you. Really—really bad."

Closing your eyes shut, and letting your lips tremble, it was one of the best things Yunho had ever experienced; your face scrunched in an uncontrolled desperation while he carried on with teasing you. His teeth sink deep into your flesh, his tongue swiping and sucking, creating those noises which sound awfully loud and blissful.

"Patience princess," he mumbles against your neck, a smirk twisting on his lips. "I don't want to hurt you like the last time."

The recollection of "that" particular moment makes your stomach flip inside out. Your first time with Yunho, as much as it was pleasant and 'fucking amazing' it was also painful. Meagrely painful. Even though there was involvement of proper aftercare, you were still bleeding for a few days after. Ever since, Yunho had been careful with you, not initiating anything with you until you said otherwise; when you had recovered though, Jongho had taken out and that was a whole thing you didn't want to reminisce about now.

"You won't, I can take you..." you whisper, tracing your fingers on his back while suddenly clutching on his leather jacket when his teeth sink further into your neck. "Hmmm, fuck..." you let out a soft moan, screwing your eyes close even tighter than before.

"There's no way you can take me without bleeding again," Yunho says, "that night, I was way over in my head and I couldn't think straight—and blame it on Seonghwa for making me jealous." He pulls back, slightly smirking with pride as he catches a faint glimpse of your skin dented with his teeth. "This time, or maybe from now on, I won't do anything unless I'm sure you can. I don't want to hurt you again."

You peer down at him through your half lidded eyes and nod your head, speaking of nothing because you know he's stubborn and won't agree to whatever you suggest.

"Fine," you breathe out, "whatever you want."

"Don't be disappointed, princess," he pouts, pinching your nose. "This will be equally...fun."

"Huh, what do you mean?" you gawp, as he starts looking around till his eyes narrow down on the full body mirror next to your futon.

"It's the same mirror, isn't it?" he asks, lips twisting to a devious smirk and it continues growing in his cheek. "I should thank this mirror, honestly. Everything started with it, after all."

You're beyond flustered as the memories come back rushing in; it was never on your list to send a very risqué photo to the stranger you had just made that day, but something made you and now here you were. Did you ever find yourself thinking you'd be living with eight men, with seven of them being so interested in you—sexually? You'd rather be caught dead than caught wondering about these things; this is what your past attitude would've made you feel.

Though in current times, it's all you can think about. Think about these men ruining you to their desires, to their own needs—this can't be healthy, but it sure has taken up every fraction of your mind. And while you're at it, there's no harm in indulging.

"Come here." Yunho shifts about on the futon in a way to face the mirror with you on his lap, your back to his chest. "I've had to do this with some of the women I had entertained. It's a standard practice. And as much as I like a tight little cunt, it is really uneasy to fuck without proper preparation first."

Listening to him, your stomach does that little flip again; you're brought to your senses when his hands slide down your waist, his fingertips grazing along your exposed skin under your skirt till your ankles. He wraps his hands around them and rubs his thumbs against the bone to keep you composed before pulling them up on his lap. The position wasn't awkward, you were resting on his chest with your legs propped on his thighs.

"Look at you," he grumbles, diving his head back into the crook of your neck and leaving gentle flutters of his lips. "So beautiful..."

You're about to close your eyes when you glance at the mirror and find yourself staring at your reflection; you were indeed beautiful—propped steady on his lap, with legs spread as he continues to abuse your neck. Soft caresses send shivers down your spine, making your body shudder when his hands slide on your knees and push your legs further apart, exposing your wet panties.

"Yes, just like that..." he grumbles again, keeping his head buried in your neck. His warm breath tickles you, causing you to fall deep within the darkness of your body and mind. "What, cat got your tongue?"

You shake your head lightly, "no, I'm trying to figure out what all this is about."

"Oh princess," he lets out a silly chuckle, "you'll see."

"Hmmm, okay," you suck in a deep breath, closing your eyes when you feel his teeth biting and nipping your skin again.

He doesn't make a sound and rather brings one of his hands up to your mouth; his fingers nudge against your lower lip and you let them part, opening your eyes to his ministrations. His forefinger and middle finger rest heavy on your lip till you slack your jaw and open your mouth wide for him; without any hesitation, he thrusts his fingers inside your mouth. Those long and sleek fingers reach to the back of your throat, even without much effort or having to slide them down. You start gaging on them the moment his fingertips hit your uvula, but holding your ground, you let him do as he pleases—coating his fingers in your spit. Thrusting his fingers inside your mouth, he gets a good amount before pulling them out and glancing over at them. They glisten under the dim lights of the room, your spit dribbles down from the top to the knuckles; making you wonder how deep he was in your mouth and how deep his fingers had managed to thrust into your throat. You let out a whimper and throw your head back, eyes still on the mirror as you catch him smirking at you. Your chest heaves erratically to what he had done, trying to calm yourself down.

"Come on, you're over dramatic." He whispers as he uses his other hand to pulls your panties out of the way. In a swift motion, he slides them off your legs and keeps them next to him on the futon. "Fuck princess, look at you, dripping already."

The same hand starts tracing up your thigh and eventually rests on your mound; two of his fingers rest perfectly against your folds and he spreads them apart, peering down at your exposed self and your pretty little clit. You breathe heavily, keeping your hands to the side and clutching the sheets tightly in them.

A moan breaks out of your chest, making you cry, "too sensitive—hmmm, fuck Yun—hmmm." You bite down on your lower lip to shut yourself up, because nothing coherent would make out after this point.

Without giving you a prior warning, he had already stuffed two of his spit-covered fingers into your cunt; plumbing them deep, he curls them inside, making them brush against your fleshy walls. The squelching sounds grow loud as he thrusts them in and out at a manageable pace. You watch with your lip caught between your teeth, the reflection in the mirror showing how your cunt swallowed his fingers; it was a sight for your eyes, and also for Yunho's.

"Keep watching, princess. Dare if you let your eyes stray..." he warns you with a low grunt, his fingers increasing their pace.

That was it. The moment you fixated your eyes on the mirror, you found him staring back at you, the sleazy smile on his face helping you perceive his intentions more closely and clearly. In the following second, he starts spreading his fingers inside you, scissoring them against your walls and spreading you further apart; the stretch was blissful, so very pleasing for your body to react in this way. He was getting there; he sure was getting there.

Heat rising from your stomach, you start heaving, your chest starts heaving while your mouth parts open and stays like that; there's a scream trapped in the back of your throat, waiting to erupt from your chest with all its might as his fingers now move inside you at an alarming pace. You're so close, so close to having that knot in your stomach come undone. And as you were, his fingers slow down.

"Hmmm, you're not going to cum until I say so," he mumbles in a coarse voice, taking his fingers out of your soaking wet cunt; instead, he grabs your hands and gently rubs the back. "Keep your hands here, hmm? Give me a squeeze when it hurts."

And he's back to thrusting his two fingers inside you; but now your hands were wrapped around his wrists, tightly to give him the signal when it gets too much for you. He starts slow, only fucking the tips of his fingers in and out. This is way worse than before, the slow and mellowed out thrusts were pushing you to your edge, making your knees go weak as the knot reties itself in your stomach. The warmth starts rising again, making you sweat profusely while you have your head resting on his shoulder.

Yunho isn't staring at you anymore, his attention is focused down, on his fingers and your stretched out folds. Your mind is too lost in the conspicuous sight that you almost don't notice him spit out a wad of his saliva on his other hand. Again, he coats his two fingers in his spit, making sure they are nicely covered before tracing them lightly down to your cunt. A few little strokes of the tips against your folds, while his other fingers slow down thrusting in you, and you're losing it all over again. You had no idea what to anticipate anymore; two fingers were already in while other two toyed and pushed against a side of your folds.

"Ahhh, holy fuck..." you curse out loudly when he starts prodding his other two fingers against your cunt, pushing the tips in very gently as to not hurt you. "Fuck fuck fuck fuck....Yunho..." you mewl out with such pure passion, tightening your hands around his wrist while your nails dig into his skin, leaving behind crescent marks. "You're—ugh—too much..."

Again, without warning, he plunges his other fingers inside as well, not even giving you any time to adjust or even comprehend it properly. His fingers stretch you out so nicely, pulling apart at your walls and squelching inside with your flesh.

You're crying, well, on the verge of crying; you already have a few tears streaming down your cheeks. The way you were being stretched and held down by his weight, was too much to contain in your little head—and the knot becomes too intense in the pit of your stomach. You were indeed close, every muscle in your body twitches to let go of the tightness and you were about to when you're, out of nowhere, made feel empty and loose again. Sensing you clench around his fingers; Yunho had stopped doing whatever he was and had his fervent eyes on you through the reflection in the mirror.

"What did I tell you, princess?" his voice comes out mocking, almost; his breath hitches lightly as he continues, "you're not cumming unless I say so."

If it weren't for you holding onto his hands while his kept you occupied, you would've slipped right off his lap and landed ass first on the floor; you were no longer in the sane state of mind, it was a mush from the crippling pleasure and pain his fingers offered. You've been denied the leisure of your release twice now, and you knew it wasn't going to be the only time you would. This affliction only builds up to your restlessness, the slow paced ticking seconds only mocking you to your pique. To say, Yunho worked his fingers in you, as if he had all the time in the world, as if he had nothing better to do.

Would you blame him though? He's trying his hardest not to bust his load at the given moment; he knows he's been driven past the line of his tameable threshold, and what beholds for him beyond it is something he'd rather keep it to himself. Though, unlike the times before, this one seems like a torture to him. Gone were the remnants of his altercation with Mingi, disintegrated almost. Rather, you had replaced them quite adeptly with your murmuring moans and cries. Yunho has a part of his mind fixed on his fingers, while the other domesticated the wild inside of him. The softness he holds for you, is another thing compelling him to be so gentle and lenient with you. In his own way, he too was proven weak against his dilemmas.

Noticing the pace of his fingers slack, you lean back on his shoulder and stare up at him, your eyes tearful and your cheeks tear stained. You read the strained creases between his eyebrows, his shallow breathes brushing with your cheek so lightly, and his lips trembling; his flushed cheeks, reddened ears, and his heaving chest were a sign—he was restraining himself as well. In the heat of the moment, your eyes meet and his heart skips. There's something serene and indistinct in those brown flakes, something so indecipherable. Time wrinkles to a beat of your hearts, both of you leaning in to press your lips against each other. The kiss starts slow, peaceful, almost with a feathery brush of your lips. It's when you both know you could never get enough of each other, it's when you push yourself further into him and taste him fully, from your heart.

The decadent taste of his lips is a magical touch in itself; you're left wanting more, wanting to get everything of him. He's on the same page, pushing his tongue in, thrusting it deep in while he suckles on your mouth. A soft kiss turning to a passionate session of make-out, this wasn't anything new to the either of you. Maybe, the jitteriness of what came before it, was. What exactly was it that made the both of you lean in at the same time? A miscommunication between your eyes, or a direct connection of your hearts? Those questions would remain unanswered for a while.

"Yunho, please..." you whimper against his lips, tipping your head back, pleading with your eyes. "I'm close..."

"Me too, princess." He mutters, letting his fingers slip out of you. His long sleek fingers are coated in a weird concoction of your wetness and his spit. "Fuck..."

"Let's help each other out," you enunciate between your breaths, shifting in his lap to face him while straddling him and pushing him down on the futon by his chest.

"You'll hurt yourself, princess," he mutters again, with concern this time.

You shake your head and press your index finger against his lips. "I'll be fine."

Without giving a second thought, you take your top off, leaving your upper half bare. Yunho's hands rest on the sides of your waist, stabling you while you carried on with your plan; fumbling with the button on his pants, you manage to undo them and then unzip them. From the past hour, you had his cock hard against your ass. You tug his pants down, enough to have his cock out; he was straining in his briefs, twitching lightly when you started stroking him through them.

"My my, what does my princess have in her mind?" he grins up at you, resounding his words with a chuckle.

"Shut up," you heave out in irritation, too riled up by him and too sensitive.

Using your free hand, you lift your skirt up, and keep it pinned against your waist; slowly, you lower yourself on his cock, letting it grind into your slit. You place both of your hands on his chest, giving yourself the leverage to continue the movements of your hips.

"Fuck, princess," Yunho screws his eyes shut, his hands tightening on your waist. His breathing, once again, becomes shallow and heavy, with your hips rolling onto his, with your cunt sliding profusely and with was on his cock.

The harshness of your sensitivity makes you start out slow, but when you catch a glimpse of his face, you decide to pick it up by a notch. Creases on his forehead, his squinted eyes closed shut, and his lips parting with every moan he lets out; it was all a sight full of his sensuality. That was alone enough to push you to your release, the knot coming back in the pit of your stomach immediately. It was when he mumbles out an incoherent curse, followed by a loud moan, that you lose it all and increase the pace of your movements.

Yunho cracks one of his eye open, watching you intently; you were in the same boat as him, eyes closed shut, breathing hard, and your body shuddering to every touch. He lets his lips sculpt into a small smirk, his eyes fully open and never leaving your figure. He starts to guide you along his cock by pushing and pulling on your waist, helping you; eventually, he bucks his hips up, the tip of his cock thrusting in you. A moan ruptures through your throat and chest, your eyes fluttering open to look down at him with tears welling up in the corners.

"Good god, princess, I'm really close." he whispers, "so close—I can't hold it in anymore."

He throws his head back in the mattress, his eyes closing again; he regulates his breathing through his mouth, his hands continuing to push and pull your waist. His cock was so perfectly aligned with your slit, your folds wrapping around the bulging and veiny shaft and the tip rubbing with your clit every time you rocked your hips. It was enough to take him to paradise, it was enough to get him there; his high comes to him like a big wave crashing down against a giant boulder. His chest heaves up hard, the heat in his stomach rising and pushing through. The sensitivity he was drowning under, pushes him to his edge, making his cock twitch deliriously against your slit and your folds, and his tip ramming into your clit; in few seeming minutes, he comes undone, filling up your slit with his cum. Most of it ends up on his lower abdomen and his chest.

"Fuck, princess," he lets out a guttural moan, swallowing thickly and raising his head back to look at you and then inspecting the cum on his clothes.

You peek down, biting intensely on your lower lip, catching the sight of the white strings painting his shirt; surging in a gentle breath, you continue rolling your hips, continue to keep the pace steady till you're close to your release. This would've been less painful if you weren't so sensitive from before, from your time with Yeosang, to here, to Yunho fingering your tightness out, as if his life depended on it.

"Come on, princess," he praises you, "you can do it. I know how much you love making a mess on my cock."

Moaning, whimpering, shuddering, and crying, you're finally reaching there, with his words kept on a replay in your head. The knot ties in with the hit in your stomach—your legs were almost on the verge of giving out, and so were you. Darkness consumes you, dazed in the thoughts of you pushing your limit and wanting to be tipped off your edge. In the hollowed silence, where only your breaths were echoing, you catch up on the dainty vibrations of his words.

"Make a mess, baby."

And they were enough for you to reach your high; it comes crashing down on you, the sensation of his still-stiff cock and the wetness of your cunt, coming together and pushing your beyond your limit. That was it, the knot unfurls in your stomach and you let go of what had been holding it together; your body shudders and twitches uncontrollably, your lips parting and staying parted as you release a series of curses.

"Fuck, oh god—hmm, Yunho," you mewl his name in a pained voice, your face strained and pulled together with the tension easing slowing in your stomach and your gut.

Yunho snickers, his sound lighthearted and teasing, "oh my, my princess really did make a big mess on my cock."

You didn't have the strength to retort or reply to him, your body going limp and collapsing down on his chest. The ickiness of both of your releases starts settling in afterwards, regardless, for the time being, you were seeking comfort from him, with his arms wrapped tightly around you. His warmth is a meagre thought of ecstasy, a sacred feeling you never had experienced before. Resting yourself with him, with his fingers running through your hair and his soft voice humming a song to you, it was your paradise.

The two of you decide to stay in bed for the rest of the evening and the night. Yunho suggested watching a movie while you were both cleaning yourself and taking a well needed shower, but you turned the idea down and asked him if he was okay with just cuddling and talking. And he was. He could never go against your words; there was no way he'd actually disagree to anything you say. But of course, he'd there to correct you with his own opinions and thoughts if he deems you to be wrong.

So there you were, delighting yourself in the post aftercare with Yunho, cuddling and talking to each other, narrating stories from your past. He kept one arm slung around your waist from under you, while his other was draped around your chest with his fingers tracing patterns on your exposed shoulder. A soft blanket covered you both; he got you one of his oversized hoodies to wear while he only slipped on his shorts.

"It's silly, I know." Yunho's chuckle reverberates in your ear, his smile widening. "But trust me, he's never confessed. He always has this elaborated ideas about confessing, but he never goes through with them."

"And you just toy with him?" you snicker, "if you know he likes you, then why not just end it? I'm pretty sure he'd be out of his misery."

"Nah," he presses his lips on the top of your head, "I'm too used to this game of cat and mouse. I wouldn't mind pulling his strings a little. Besides, he can be a real jerk at times."

"Like today?"

"There have been more difficult times." He sighs, "hey, let's not talk about it anymore."

You nod your head, deciding with it; Yunho had been telling you about his and Mingi's relationship—how those two became friends, how they got along, how they both liked each other in ways more than friends. Neither of them said anything about it though, and that really confused you. But it wasn't your place to say anything.

"So, how are you feeling now?" he asks you, bursting your bubble of thought

"Much better," you mutter, "I feel so sleepy."

"Of course you do," he chuckles. "Sure that little body can handle only so much from us, and considering you were with Seonghwa and Yeosang in the morning, that's—that's completely understandable."

"Shut up," you whine, teasing him. "Did you forget to include yourself? You were a jerk."

"Thank you so much for reminding me again," he clicks his tongue and slurs his words. "Come on, I said I'll make it up to you, I promise." You watch him pout.

"You better."

"Yes ma'am."

And the teasing and mocking continues on through the dwelling night until you find yourself sound asleep in his arms; he's no better than you of course, you had caught him snoring before you could even get yourself to drift off. Though, he looked really cute as he slept, a soft pout stayed on his lips as he did. When you were dozing off, you had many thoughts on your mind, but only one of them stood out. Did you actually like him? So, San was right. You really did dream of having a proper relationship with him.

Oh boy, this little arrangement of yours might leave you heartbroken.

Chapter Text

 If, all those unused wishes on your birthday could come back to you, you would wish for the world to stop right here, for the time to freeze and bound you in this moment for eternity. Would you even blame yourself? Who, in their right mind, would want this to come to an end? You've never been a fan of cuddles or all those formalities that followed after a good night of passion and sweat; but this was different. It was only different because it was Yunho. Yes, you had pretty much grown accustomed to him, to the way your heart skipped and hammered every time he was around you. There's no denying it; you liked him, you liked him more than whatever stupid arrangement you were in with him. You can't fight your heart on this; you had fuzzy feelings from the moment you had met him in the bookstore.

Yunho squirms on his side, wrapping his arms around your waist. He pulls you close to his chest, his breath fanning your cheek as he grumbles an incoherent phrase. You bite down on your tongue to swallow the soft chuckle which threatened to push past your lips; lingering eyes catch a glimpse of the pout on his face and your heart melts at the sight. If really, time could constrain itself from moving with such a haste, you might just sculpt his sleepy face in the back of your mind. A little after your jocular conversation, Yunho drifted off to sleep while mumbling few words in the haze of his slumber. Listening to him, talking to him about your past life and things, you too, became a victim of your lethargy and dozed off. The serenity which then took over, made you forget about most of the things—especially the strange afterthought you had managed to overthink about.

You had been up for a while now, the red lines on your alarm clock read 11:10, and when you calculated the hours loosely in your head, you were asleep for almost three hours. The moment your eyes cracked open to the soft snores of this particular, you were a little dazed; then going to sleep back was long forgotten as you preferred staring at his face. This is borderline creepy, because somewhere you were expecting for him to wake up and flash you a confused flicker of his eyes, while his lips trembled lightly to question your eerie intentions.

The warmth slowly fades to a gust of cold; Yunho turns in his sleep, his back to you now. Disappointment sizzles at the tip of your tongue, waiting to voice a petty whine, but you silence yourself and heave out a breath. While his sleeping face was burned in the back of your mind, you turned on your back to stare up at the ceiling; the bland white is so boring, until your eyes construe patterns of hazy lines and colours. You'd been staring for too long; even the imaginative figments had started disappearing to a space of pitch black. Remaining of your sleep gradually creeps up your mind, and your eyes droop, finally giving into it. Though, not long after had you managed to doze off in the light slumber, a loud knock on your door wakes you back up. You jerk off the bed, finding yourself dazed and confused, just enough to replay the echoes of the knock in your head.

Rising in your squeaking futon, you turn to Yunho; he hadn't awoken to the sound, still snoring as gently as he ever could. A tired groan parts your lips, and you slip out of the bed, tip toeing to answer the door while you rubbed your eyes.

"Ah, I suppose you were sleeping."

"No shit Sherlock," you grumble, quite straightforward until you recognise the voice and bite your tongue. "I mean, yes I was sleeping." You correct yourself and sigh, "I'm sorry, but what brings you here at this time?"

Seonghwa shakes his head, "I did not think you'd forget, darling. But I don't blame you. You must have a lot of things on your mind, at the moment." His voice stays hushed as he continues, "well, San filled me up on everything that happened in the later evening. Are you alright, love?"

You notice him carefully then, the sleep wiped off of your eyes; Seonghwa appeared to be in his loungewear, grey sweatpants and a black sweatshirt. His hair was tied into a ponytail, while a few strands framed the sides of his face. There was no trace of sleep on him, or even lethargy—he seemed quite energetic and relaxed, when you narrow your eyes on him.

"I guess," you breathe out, running a hand through your hair. "Not that it matters now, does it?"

Seonghwa's shoulders roll out and his gaze travels behind you, into your darkened room; the light coming from the hallway slid off the wooden floor and every corner to shed a light on your futon. Where Yunho slept peacefully.

There's momentary numbness on Seonghwa's tongue before he mumbles to you, "so the two of you...?"

"It happened on a whim," you shrug.

"Did he hurt you?" he doesn't let you speak, interjecting in a stern tone, "I sure hope he didn't."

"Just a little sore, if that's what you mean." Sucking in a breath, you look down at the floor and mutter, "and a little overstimulated. But it's fine."

"Are you sure?" Seonghwa sighs but doesn't say anything more. He extends his hand to you and with a nudge of his head, he coaxes, "come on."

"Where?" you look up to stare at him, bemused and taken off guard; he rolls his eyes and grins, "I know what you need."

You reflect his smugness with your own, smirking at him. "So now we read minds too?"

"Can't blame me, had to master the art of reading Hongjoong's mind over the past years." He states, "spend some time with that man and you might know what I'm talking about."

"You two give 'will they, won't they' vibes," you remark. "Is there a history between you two that no one knows of?"

Seonghwa lets out a scoff to your instigation, "let's go."

"Fine. Fine. Let me get dressed, at least." Before you could turn around, he grabs you by your wrist and pulls you out, mumbling, "what you have on, is fine."

"I'm partially naked, Mr. Park!" you whine, your tone playful.

To be fair, you were. Yunho's oversized sweatshirt covered your body till your mid thighs—and with every little movement of yours, the hem would hike up an inch to expose your skin. On the contrary, you didn't want to change. The sweatshirt had his scent, which deluded you into thinking he was with you, save for his warmth, whose lack was figuratively driving you crazy.

"Eh, it covers everything that others aren't allowed to see." He ignores you and starts dragging you out of your room, tugging you along with him down the hallway as his hand tightens around your wrist. "You practically disappear in his clothes."

"Yeah, cause he's a giant," you whisper and let him do as he pleases.

Silent hallways and rooms, and the ticklish unease crawling up your stomach; you were restless as Seonghwa forces you to leave the apartment with him. Mind looming over the words trapped in your chest, and the serenity between the two of you wasn't helping you live down the prior moments. If you were stuck on your emotions—stuck on expounding these so-called emotions you had to deal with, because of one man, then your rationality kept pirouetting back to all the possibilities of your relationship capsizing with these eight men. It was made clear in the beginning; this arrangement wasn't supposed to come with any strings or feelings. And there you were, standing at the crossroad where the dilemma of letting either take over your life was sitting unresolved.

A stem branching into two sides, your perspectives. One, you confess and let the harrowing uneasiness and awkwardness be a third wheel between all of you for eternity. And two, you hold onto the regret of never unravelling your heart, and delight in the desires of others and your own. The latter sounded more rational to you, to your brain and the other made your heart hammer in your chest. But the imprinted image of one particular was causing a war between your head and your heart. And your heart was posing to be heavy on your head.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Seonghwa chirps, standing beside you in the elevator.

You blink twice, not sure for how long you had zoned out if you were finding yourself in the elevator.

"It's nothing." You dismiss it, trying not to steal a glance at him.

"When a silence is as loud as yours," he begins, "then it's quite clear to what it means." The warmth of his hand slips into yours and he continues, "can't decide whom to listen to? Head or heart, is what I believe it is."

"Neither of the two seem viable at this point." You shrug and sigh, tightly wrapping your fingers around his and peeking up at him. "Though, I might prefer my head over my heart."

The elevator comes to halt, the bright panel atop indicating you were in the parking lot. Doors slide open and the two of you walk out, hand in hand, feet synched. Seonghwa's eyes rake over your face for a hot second before he looks ahead and guides you to his car.

He clears his throat, "and do you think your heart is going to sit still while you work on it rationally?" you hear him scoff, "think about it, Angel. As for someone who's as petty and unbothered, I'd suggest you take it slow. You just met us, just met him. Why would you want to rush into something indefinite when it's only the beginning?"

He opens the passenger's door and helps you in; he offers you a soft smile and a gentle peck to your lips when he buckles your seatbelt. Wasting no time, he gets behind the wheel and before he could ignite the engine, he throws a concerned glance at you. Your quietude was troublesome enough to make him worry; was what he said a little too much for you? Should he have just shut up and let you do what you were determined to do? The uncertain questions swirling in his mind cause him to heave a sigh and he starts the car.

His lips part to say something but you beat him to it. "I think you're right."

Seonghwa nods, driving out of the parking lot and merging with the main road. The comfortable silence steeping into the air fades to the shrill vibrations of your voice.

"It's too soon to say what's certain and what's not. I suppose, if I give it some time and wait around, maybe—maybe I'll seek what my heart asks for." Your words sound bleak in the serene air; murmured song on the radio reverberates through while the same comfortable silence settles back in.

The ride to Seonghwa's surprise designation was pleasant and cozy. No unnecessary attempts to break the silence were made and neither of you really found a point in disrupting it anyway. Curiosity pinches you to reality after you've spent the past twenty minutes overthinking about your relationship with all eight of them. It was just as Seonghwa said; too early to be a judge of anything. You gave your mind some rest over his comments, and they really stuck by you.

Seonghwa kills the engine, and it whirls to nothing; the headlights turn off and you're forced to stare out at an empty and dark parking lot. It belonged to the dingy diner right adjacent to it. The neon banner flickered with its name, and the 'open' sign on the door stayed crooked. Regardless of its exterior, the insides seemed homely with warm toned lights and turquoise coloured window booths.

"The boys and I come here often," Seonghwa begins, unlocking the car, "they have the best parfaits. You have to try them!" the sound of excitement in his words dithers to the blowing winds as he gets out and helps you out.

You had already unbuckled your seatbelt, so when he pulled the door open, you readily took his hand which reached out for you and stepped out of the car.

"Parfaits? In this cold?" you question, taken back by his enthusiasm.

"It's never too cold for ice cream." He mumbles.

Your hands intertwine together as he pulls you to the diner; the door is pushed open, and the classic sound of bell resonates around as you enter. The place was neat at first glance. It wasn't much crowded either. Apart from you and Seonghwa, there were a few other people, occupying the booths; a group of girlfriends chattering away, squeaking and shrieking, and an elderly couple sitting just adjacent to them.

A service counter with white and turquoise checkered pattern, its trims white as well, sat right in front of the entrance. The counter had bar stools on one side, all comfortable with turquoise cushioning. The overhead lighting installed was dim and soft, which mellowed out the space.

There were three window booths on either side of the entrance, and Seonghwa dragged you to the one on very end of the left side. Sitting opposite to one another, you settled in anxiously and peered at the man in front. He was flipping through the single-laminated-sheet, the menu of the diner, which he found lying on the tabletop. Though, from the way the corner of his lips tugged, you knew he had already decided on his and your order.

Soon after, the waitress chides in; clad in a red tunic, contrasting to the whole aesthetic of the diner, she offers you a small smile before flipping out a yellow order pad and a pen from the front of her apron.

"What can I get for you?" her smile only seems to widen slightly as her eyes lurk over Seonghwa.

From the corner of your eye, you caught up on it. Although, it was a harmless little effort from the waitress's side, you couldn't help but let some sort of envy bubble in you.

"Oh, we'll have the strawberry parfait—"

"—actually, I want to have some hot chocolate." You voice out, pouting at Seonghwa, "I'd rather not take any chances and fall sick, you know?"

You try to sound a little less uptight by hurling a chuckle at the end; Seonghwa's eyebrows twitch, confused, dazed, dumbfounded. Either way, he sets the menu down and nods his head.

"Hmm, then I think it's one strawberry parfait and one hot chocolate. Anything else, sweetheart?" He lets the nickname roll off his tongue without any efforts, giving you a smug smile along with it.

"I'm good." You shake your head while tugging at the sleeves of Yunho's sweatshirt, causing your hands to hide under them.

"That will be all, thank you."

The waitress mumbles a soft 'alright' before picking up the menu from the table and leaving the two of you alone. Seonghwa kept a count of the seconds which passed by in sheer silence; when he knew it was enough, he cleared his throat to get your attention.

"You know, you just bruised my pride," he mocks, "well, I'll have you regret your choice. You'll be begging for a piece when you see just how delicious their parfait is."

"Seonghwa..." you mumble, but finding no more words to say, you press your lips together.

"It's not about the parfait, I know." He nods his head along, absentmindedly picking out a tissue paper from the stand.

You keep your eyes on his hands; he folds and creases the paper, his sleek fingers playing with it.

"I guess, I wasn't in the mood to eat a parfait."

"I don't think it's because of your mood—" he mumbles, incoherently as he bends the paper in his hand; when you don't answer, he raises his head up. "Oh Angel," he scoffs in disbelief, sounding a bit ridiculous. "I think you're being delirious now."

"I'm a mess, Hwa," you emphasise, "I can't believe I'm a fucking mess because of a tiny little crush."

"Happens to the best of us," he says calmly, holding out the origami he had made in meantime, "hey! Look, a swan."

You emit a harmless scoff and roll your eyes at his childish behaviour. "A really pretty swan, fucking great."

He glares at you, going back and forth in his thoughts to figure out your sarcasm. "Let's talk about something else," he tries, "if you're distracted enough, you might not think about him."

"And talk about what, exactly?" you groan, "either way, I'm going to come back to him at some point."

Seonghwa hums, deeply pondering over his thoughts as he stares at you. "Okay, how about I tell you a secret?"

"Colour me intrigued," you lean over the table, your lips stretching to a lopsided smile.

"Hongjoong and I are..." he drawls on his words till they turn to a whisper to create suspicion, and he succeeds in doing so. You find yourself growing impatient with the silence, with the stupid smirk on his face as he's about to mumble the words you've been aching to hear, "we're good friends."

You sigh, groaning at his vapid attempt to lift your spirits. He places the origami swan in front of you and shrugs, nonchalantly weaving his words into a soft chuckle.

"Sorry, I really have nothing to say," he pouts. "What can we talk about which won't make you think about Yunho..." tapping his fingers under his chin, mumbles.

"I have a suggestion, but you might not like it." You pinch the origami swan in your fingers and examine it with a dainty smile on your lips.

"I'm not talking about Yunho." He states, sternly.

"Fine, worth the try, I guess," you peer up at him.

"Okay, how about I give you my generalised opinions on the guys?" he suggests, sighing softly.

Your eyes light up at that, smile widening. "That'd be very much appreciated."

Seonghwa clears his throat, ready to speak but is ceased to speechlessness when the waitress comes over with your order. She sets the two glasses down on the table: your hot chocolate, steaming hot with a wispy mist clouding over the cup, and Seonghwa's strawberry parfait, perfect pink with whole strawberries at the top and other sweet hints. Offering you a warm smile and a murmured 'enjoy', the waitress walks away, her heels clicking away as she descends behind the service counter.

"Who should be our first victim then?" he questions you, picking up his spoon and digging into the heap of ice cream in his cup.

"How about Hongjoong?" you mutter, taking a small sip of your piping hot coffee. "I know very little about him."

"Hmm, he's not see-through and barely opens up to anyone," Seonghwa hums and swallows a spoonful of ice cream. "And to be fair, there's not much about him to know. But for you, I think the most crucial piece of information would be that he's a hard dom. It runs in his blood, like an instinct. He has very little tolerance for bratty behaviour. Trust me."

"Oops," you press your lips together, "I like to be a brat."

"Then you're going to have to brace yourself for his punishments which follow such behaviour—he's really into brat taming," Seonghwa takes another spoonful of his ice cream, getting a little bit of whipped cream this time as well, "they could be extreme. Very extreme and intense. So, you might as well try not to be an imp when you're with him."

"What's the thrill in that?" you deadpan and shrug, "okay, I'll keep that in mind. Now, what about Yeosang? When I first met him, I did not think he'd be..."

"A sadist?" Seonghwa shrugs too, "he has his preferences. Yeosang likes pain and torture; his dearest choice is mental torture, of course. He derives pleasure from it—from your pain, from your suffering and your desires." He lets out a chuckle when he catches the creases on your forehead, "hey don't worry, he's not that extreme."

You swallow thickly and take another sip of your hot chocolate, "have you ever been a part of his...sessions?"

Seonghwa seems taken back, his eyes wide and his smile faltering with every passing second. "When you put two bulls in a room, only one walks out the victor. We're both not suited well for each other, dynamically speaking."

You set the cup down to express your thoughts when he beats you to it. "I think he's had several of 'those' sessions with San and Jongho. They're more suitable for him than anyone else in the house."

"Since they're both, dynamically speaking, a switch," you mumble, mimicking him, "makes sense."

Seonghwa offers you a smug smile, "coming back to Yeosang, he's—he may seem stone-cold, and rude but he gives one of the best aftercares amongst all of us."

"I can tell," you sigh and gulp a good amount of your hot chocolate.

"Wooyoung takes the second place," he adds, toying with the piece of strawberry with his spoon. "He's into some extreme things as well, in case you're wondering. Not full on extreme, though."

"He's been taking my cooking classes," you breathe out, "I think he's a freak."

"Not wrong there," he adds, "he likes some unconventional things."

"He's still great at cooking though," you mumble in a monotone, "this has been bugging me for a while, but I always find him gone between seven to eleven at night."

"He owns a small bistro downtown," Seonghwa chortles, "it's quite popular amongst the locals and some renowned food critics. Been a while since we visited him for dinner. Maybe in the coming weeks we could, whenever he's free."

"That's a cute little perk," you smile. "No doubt he's so...professional when he's in the kitchen."

A moment of comfortable silence feels the two of you; the mumblings of the café dwindle down to a quiet hush of nothing and your thoughts run louder in your mind. Yes, there were a lot of things on your mind, but you chose to burn them down in the farthest of corners to ease yourself. Seonghwa clears his throat, his voice stays steady as he continues talking to you; the occasional use of lower baritone, to seemingly not have anyone else hear your chatter, made your heart flutter. Talking to him, gave you more of a generalised insight to others in the house: Hongjoong owned a boutique uptown and considered to be one of the best uprising designers, Yunho worked at a dog daycare centre which was owned by one of his colleagues, San was a gym trainer, Yeosang was a graphic designer, and all other knick knacks. The rundown was clear to you, of their habits, their usual likes and dislikes; Seonghwa kept you occupied with his words, and you listened to whatever he had to say between the gaps of silences between you two.

The night was going well, you were soon dozing into Seonghwa's warmth and the way his speech lulled you to your own zone of comfort. He truly was like the guy best friend you never had; he was sensitive, understanding and offered an ear to your rambles. In a sullen part of your heart, you craved exactly what he was and what could be between you two, if you ever got over your guts and confessed to him. Though, it wasn't so simple. It never is. You had your heart set on someone else and it drove you wild. As wild as the cold night which was about to take a drastic turn. A sudden chime of the bell by the entrance follows quick paced footsteps ascending inside; the glass panel on the door crackles to force with which it had been pushed open. Seonghwa's eyes lose their light, his lips forming a bitter frown as his gaze traces the person who had stormed in.

"Mingi..." he mutters, and you tense up, throwing a glance over your shoulder to find the same tall man hunched over the service counter. "I have no idea what he's doing here."

Your lips part to say something but are sealed shut when you hear the muffles of Mingi's deep voice, "one decaf, to go please."

There's strain to his words, as if his words might break if he was tipped off a little more. You don't need to make sense of it, but it was clear through his pinched baritone that indeed he had been crying.

"Shit, don't look back." Seonghwa mutters, with an urgency in his tone which gives away that you had been spotted. You watch Seonghwa take in a deep breath, his chest rising and tightening at the tension coiling in him, though as if on cue, his phones chimes with a text message. And it continues to as they flood in. "Who the fuck..."

Annoyed, Seonghwa reaches out for his phone lying screen down on the table; the buzzing continues till he puts it on silent mode. He reads through the recent texts flooding the group chat and peers up behind you to find Mingi gone. Heaving a sigh, he turns to you.

"What's the emergency this time?" you took a shot in the dark and asked.

Seonghwa shakes his head, "just Wooyoung. I haven't read much of it to understand the context. But whatever it is, either they're planning an outing next weekend or that Wooyoung is being a brat."

"An outing?" you repeat and Seonghwa scrolls at the top of the unread chats. He answers, "well, Yeosang owns a small cabin in the woods, and it's been a—a tradition of sorts—for us to spend a weekend there whenever we have the time to. You know, by mutual voting. The coming weekend seems doable by everyone, so..."

As he trails off, you nod your head in understanding, "sounds good to me."

"Yeah, you're going to love the place. It's secluded, private and has a sweet pool in the back." Seonghwa adds with a lilting smirk, "besides, it'd be perfect for us to get to know you better."

You catch on the flicker of mischief in his eye and your lips stretch to a grin; the thought of being with them never gets boring, but knowing this time there's a cabin and woods involved, you can't wait for the next weekend to come.

Chapter Text

 "God, you must think I'm pathetic, don't you?" you turn your head to catch the faintest of smirk tweaking across Jongho's face.

The flashing headlights of other cars passing by highlight the murmured haze of his side profile and you bite your lip. Radio crackles with a random song playing in the background, the euphonic reverberations causing reckless palpitations of your heart, while your mind tried to stay distracted from the myriad of emotions swirling in you. Your luck would have it as it seems, but spending the entire day with Jongho was certainly more of a kick to your gut than relaxing in any way. The weekend getaway plan was finalised last Sunday, and the days after then have been a bit tedious for all of you. It was no-brainer for you, because you spent most of the time at the university over the weekdays than at the loft; though, the lack of spending time with your certain eight roommates was typically overbearing and heavy.

At this point, you yearned to be with them. Even if it meant you got to go down on your knees for them. Today's day wasn't particularly fast-paced either; early classes, dragging lab hours, and a whiling hour of late-evening lunch with Jongho, the day did not seem to end. Regardless of the lagging hours at university, there was one thing you were looking forward to. The weekend getaway. Taking out thirty minutes from each day to pack your bag, you were all ready to tackle the long-five-hour drive with your roommates. But for now, your mind kept drifting back to Jongho's earlier said comment and your high-pitched retort which followed it.

"Honestly, Angel?" he speaks up, one hand staying on the steering wheel as the other runs through his hair, "you've always been pathetic with your little crushes."

"Excuse me?" you defend yourself, your voice going up a notch again. "I so do not!"

"Lee Dong-Hae?" He states, pointing out, "You were practically all over him in the freshmen year."

"That's a low blow, my friend," you sigh, pressing your lips together, "freshmen year me was a mess. Reminiscing is one of the many ways which urges me to delete myself."

"At least, it's not the same with you and..." Jongho trails off with his chuckle, finding it oddly threatening to continue.

If he gets on your nerves now, he sure knows you will give him one ticket straight to hell. The apparent teasing on his face melts away quickly as he swerves lanes and glances at you quickly to gauge your reaction. His cheeks heat up, taking a shade of red as he notices you glare at him.

"Angel, all I mean to say is, please don't embarrass yourself in front of everyone when you decide on what to do with your crush." He mutters, his eyes back on the road, "pretty much everyone knows you like him, anyway."

"I thought the whole point of spending the day with you was to forget about him and my nuisance-like dilemma." You state in a stern tone, continuing in the same, "I'm not going to do anything dumb, or stupid, or embarrassing, or humiliating, until push comes to shove. So, rest assured."

Jongho heaves out a sigh, turning a corner as the streets start appearing more familiar to you. The ride back from the university was partially discomforting because you drew circles around your tragic love life, while Jongho made sure you remained distracted. After the late—almost an amalgamation of lunch and dinner, you and Jongho were headed back to the loft. You knew it, the night before, Jongho would try to drag you out for a meal and while it did happened, you did not think it would take place so late into the afternoon that you would likely consider it to be your dinner. Time passed by in a blink of an eye at the restaurant, the one you and Jongho had been frequenting since freshmen year, and before you knew, it was time to leave. The nightlife at this part of the town is quiet and slow, farcry from usual buzz and chaos.

The car swivels down another turn and Jongho decides to break the unruly silence between you two, "you know what your problem is, Angel?"

You mutter a 'what' in tongues and Jongho continues, "you think too much. You've always been an over-thinker, and this situation has you breaking your own limits to how bad it could be."

His words, regardless of how much meaning the held, felt flat. Jongho takes a deep breath, one hand coming to rest on your thigh, "go with the flow. See where this wave takes you, and don't resist the current. You could be ruining a awful lot between everyone else around here."

You bask in the silence, considering the weight in what he has to say. It did occur to you before. Chasing after one guy can make you vulnerable enough to tarnish the relationship you built with others over the two weeks. Seonghwa said the same thing and his words have etched themselves in the back of your mind. Jongho's words were there too, making their home in a corner dedicated to all cognitive decision making when it came to your heart. The streets have grown too familiar now, indicating you were close to the apartment. Every second ticked loud, covering the distance between you and the prospect stupidity you were hell-bent on doing tonight.

Jongho's eyes never leave the road, even when you take a sharp breath, trying to resolve the knots in your thinking. "So, I put it in the hands of fate and wait?"

"If it's meant to be, then it'll be." He shrugs, "I care for you too much to let you hurt yourself over something called feelings. They come and go, Angel and it's the worst ever."

The streams of light outside flicker to demurred glow of halo bulbs in the parking. He halts the car, the engine dies with a whir and your mind stays constricted to his uttered words.

"Jongho," you call out to him in a whisper, scared what your heart might construe after listening to him. But to your surprise, you don't make a sound. You leap into his arms and kiss him, an action betraying the storm brewing in your mind.

The thread holding your lust had finally snapped.

He's quick to kiss back, keeping you in place with a hand on your neck and other tangled in your hair; he pulls you, further than you could go to have your teeth clatter against each other. A moan stays trapped in your chest when you feel his tongue slither in. The kiss is sloppy, with his lips dominating yours. If there ever was a tension in your shoulders, it's all eased out by him. You're suffocating on his passion, lungs burning on the last breath you took, which only urges you to pull away and break the kiss. Jongho doesn't want that. His lips tease and nibble, his teeth scrapping and his tongue pushing in; his desires have only begun to resurface his want. Not that you mind. It stuns you to know how rough this timid man can get.

Your lips stung when he broke the kiss, and your lungs got the very air they deserved; Jongho trailed kisses down your neck, his lips fluttering in a gentle manner while his arms caged you against his body. Somehow supporting yourself over the console, you slid one of your arms around his shoulder and let out whimpers of satisfaction. Ironic cause you were far from being sated by his lips murmuring across your skin. You needed him to be hastier, rougher than he usually is. He starts leaving open mouthed kisses along your collarbones and neck, forcing your skin to anticipate something. In all honesty, you shuddered in his arms, aching for it, waiting for it.

A hum resounds from his chest as he finally lets his teeth sink in your flesh, his mouth sucking it in to let the colour disperse; a pretty fucking tint of purple, blotching its way underneath and emerging viciously, all because of his mouth. You wince, arm tightening around his shoulder, and your head rolling to the side, instinctively to give him more space. The way you have attuned to him always astonishes him, it's like you know what he needs (just the way he knows how to make a mess of you). Jongho brings your body closer to him, your chest flush with his, too close to feel the studded rivets on his shirt piercing through your own. Subtly has gone to hell with the way he's leaving your skin bruised and numb with his teeth, while you're hoping to let out coherent sounds to voice your yearning.

In the haze of marking you like you were his possession, Jongho's body loosens to the pleasure he was seeking and he falls sideways onto the steering wheel.

Honk!

The sound of the horn blares and the two of you come to your senses. Regardless of the burning passion between, the next few moments are both of you struggling to get out of his car while keeping your hands to yourself.

To say you were desperate would be an understatement, because you were. This week had been utterly busy for you and the sexual frustration from your last encounter with Yunho had become too overbearing to not act on it. A release is all you needed and this time, you didn't care who you got it from. Monday was the worst, a tragedy, a catastrophe of you getting eaten halfway through your orgasm because Seonghwa's work called him in for an urgent meeting. Tuesday you came back late from university and dozed off immediately after dinner, shooting down all the advances made by Yeosang for a release of his own. Wednesday wasn't any better either, San's fingers were all curled up nicely in you when a grumpy Wooyoung brought both of your highs to a terrible low. You had been looking forward to the Thursday afternoon, alone and all by yourself in the loft, free to do whatever you wanted, which included a nice little massage by your trusty old muse.

Which brought you to Friday, brought you here with Jongho, in elevator as you smooched both of your faces off. God, were you desperate.

"I can't."

Kiss.

"Stop."

Kiss.

"Kissing you."

Jongho says in between the kiss, guiding you back out of the elevator as it comes to a halt on your floor; he continues to walk you down the hallway, his lips never leaving yours and his arms establishing a tight grip around your waist. The moment your back hits the door, your heart drops to your gut. Though, it wasn't enough of the terror to pull away from the kiss. Jongho grunts against your mouth, one hand slipping in his pants to pull the key out while other supporting you against the door. In one swift motion, he pushes the key in and unlocks the door. Stumbling behind in your steps because of his weight, you cling onto him much tighter than before. Jongho chuckles, the soft vibrations trilling your skin while your world spins; you were trapped against the door now, Jongho's body flush against yours as the door closes with a loud thud.

Your hands are tangled in his hair, pulling him closer to you as if any distance is even remaining between you two to cover. Regardless, Jongho complies with your silent and hasty wish, he deepens the kiss. You're making out with him against the door, entangled in a mess of limbs in the vestibule, no thought ever crossing your mind like it usually does. There it was, the pent tension spreading under your skin like little tremors of hankerings and lust. You knew you were close to snapping, you knew one of these days you'd pour out all the stagnant desires pooling between your legs and here you were, making out with Jongho sticking to you like glue, his hands roaming your body with possession he had never showed before while his lips abuse the fuck out of yours.

The moment of bliss is a short-lived hour in the paradise you were expecting from him; someone clears their throat loud enough for both of you two separate, like two magnets repelling each other on the same poles. Your eyes are still half-lidded, while Jongho's are blown wide; both of you pant from straining your lungs too much and both of you flaunt red cheeks, flustered faces and swollen lips. When the effect of your sexual desires starts wearing off, you realise you've been stared at by two people. Your blurry vision catches the faint outline of San, his muscular shoulders standing broad and tall, while the other man, slightly shorter than San, has his arms folded over his chest. Jongho's senses had snapped back to reality long back, and even if they had, he can't help but delight in the phantom touches of your lips against his.

"Uh..." you trail off, turning your head to Jongho who stands next to you with an arrogant smirk on his lips.

"Happened on a whim, Joong." He waves it off, glancing away from Hongjoong, as he scratches the back of his neck. "Well, she started it."

You are about to whine a retort when Hongjoong's deep titter makes you stop, "this doesn't bother me, I'm just glad you two didn't storm into the neighbour's apartment smooching your faces off."

Jongho nods slowly, and San speaks up, "where were you guys?" he checks his watch. "It's almost 9 pm."

"Had long hours at the university, then had lunch-slash-dinner with Jongho," you explain, shrugging your jacket and taking your shoes off as the clarity settles in. "Didn't mean to worry you, but I was with Jongho all day today."

Jongho nods again, "she was with me, yes."

San mumbles an 'okay' before disappearing upstairs, while Hongjoong stares at you. He still hasn't bought your reasoning.

"Alright then, you both know that we leave around 11:30 pm, right?"

"Yeah," you mutter, walking past him into the living room. You slump on the couch and relax, the neckline of your dress falling apart from your collarbone and shoulders.

Jongho excuses himself, pipping in with urgency, "shit, I still need to pack."

Hongjoong heaves out another subtle chortle before he stalks into the living room and sits next to you on the couch. "I'm assuming you've packed already?"

"Yep, couldn't be bothered by it last minute. And I didn't want anyone to think less of me." You answer, "it's already bad enough I don't do my things on time. I can't have you all judging me as I get my shit together last minute."

A small smile curls on his face, seemingly enthralled. "Judging you? Us? That's a bit farfetched." He states, "besides, I am impressed. Planning ahead of the event is actually stress-free and easygoing on your mind and body."

"You done with your bags too?" you ask him, looking at him.

Hongjoong seems relaxed, his hair slightly damp, more likely from the shower he took prior to you returning, and his eyes have a certain glimmer in them which entails how peaceful he is. Your gaze lingers on him for longer than you had intended it to be, catching the fading tint on his small lips and the smudged kohl around his lower lash-line. The smaller details stand out more now, even his moles emerging out from his tanned skin. You've never noticed him, or paid too much attention his features; you two never had such a tranquil encounter to begin with. As you think about it, over the two weeks you had been living with them, you and Hongjoong never had a one-on-one before.

You take a breath to calm your jittery nerves, catching up on the heavy notes of his scent which sends a tickle between your legs. Hongjoong seems to notice it, your mere effort at tucking your legs under you while clenching your thighs together. The man has a keen eye for everything, Seonghwa had told to you recently. Along the many other things he had told you, he also mentioned how deliberately effortless he is with his outfit, which focuses your attention on his attire: a full-sleeved white turtleneck and black dress pants. You see faint marks of lipstick around the collar, and the edges of the same, as if someone had pulled it down to...
"Angel?" he snaps his fingers in front of your face and you flinch. "Thought I lost you there for a second. What were you thinking about?"

"Nothing." You play it cool, throwing your head back on the cushion and staring up at the ceiling, "you said something?"

Hongjoong shakes his head, the warmth of his finger growing intense on your collarbone. "That's a dark one." He whispers close to your ear as he leans in to trace his finger along the hickey Jongho left behind, "never seen Jongho be this territorial before. It's almost, as if, he doesn't want to share."

Something about his murmured words give your mind a lethal whiplash, one you hadn't been anticipating. It made sense now. Two and two are put together in your head, though the victory for it doesn't last long as Wooyoung sprints into the living room calling out for Hongjoong.

"Hong!" Wooyoung rushes in, urgency lacing his tone, "code blue!"

You narrow your eyes at Wooyoung, who apparently is doubled over with his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. The man almost disappears in his oversized hoodies, while his shorts show off a silver of his tattoo etched on his right thigh. Hongjoong's face doesn't twitch, not one muscle tweaking out of place; the calmness in his demeanour is something to commend, even when Wooyoung looks like he's minutes away from passing out. Once the man has his breath regulated, he looks between you two and sighs.

"Did I disturb you two lovebirds?"

"The code blue, Wooyoung?" Hongjoong reminds him.

"Oh right," he teases a breath out from his mouth and stands straight, "Seonghwa wants you to make a quick run to the store and get an extra tent. Apparently," he pauses, sitting on the other side of the couch next to you, "since Angel will be joining us, we're odd in number and won't be fitting in tents like we usually do."
Your brows crease in bewilderment as you hear him, "wait, aren't we going to live in a cabin?"

"Right. But, as always, we hike up a trail and spend the night on top. The view there is amazing at night, and trust me, you won't regret it." Wooyoung answers.

Hongjoong nods, scooting a hand's distance from you, "it's a chill trek, nothing too intense. Even if it was, we'd have dropped it because..."

You pick up on his intention and interrupt, "I can do an intense hike. I'm a lot stronger than you think I am."

"Never said you were weak, but I'm only considering your safety, Angel." Hongjoong adds politely, "do you really take us for some men who'd jeopardize your security over a hike?"

"Oh, I'm hurt," Wooyoung winces, clutching his heart in feigned agony, "to think Angel..."

You slap his chest and shut him up.

"Hey, that was even worse," he whines as he holds your wrist tightly, "Angel is being feisty today."

You roll your eyes at his remark, "you just really annoy me."

"I love you too," he says with a smirk, gentility taking over.

Hongjoong clears his throat, "did he ask for anything else?"

Wooyoung's smirk doesn't falter, if anything it grows to Hongjoong's mumbled curiosity, "snacks and stuff, I think. He didn't give me a—wait he actually did give me a list."

One of his hand dives in the pocket of his hoodie and he pulls out a small white sheet, rumpled but still in good condition. "Here, it has everything you need."

Hongjoong reaches over you to take the list from his hand; going through it, he turns to you and smiles softly, "you're coming with me."

You want to protest. Hell, if you could scream it right now, you would.

His eyes spark with a whisper of mischief as you try to formulate an excuse against him, and the same spark stops you from voicing it out. You snatch your hand from Wooyoung's grip, offering him a tight-lipped smile and nuanced slap on his arm.

"See you later, dick-face."

"Aww, I love it when you give me petnames." Wooyoung accepts the name without any fight, "see you later too, baby-butt."

Hongjoong groans at your childishness and gets up from the couch, "let me grab my coat and wallet." He's quick to leave, disappearing down the hallway adjacent to the kitchen.

Wooyoung turns to you, eyes scanning every bit of you; he notices the hickeys on first sight, the elaborate splotches of purple, blue and red are scattered all over your neck and under your jaw. He wants to question you, he has the urge to ask you which one of them marked you like that, but he knows better than to test you now. Moreover, he doesn't want to know which one of them has gone past the threshold of their jealousy to leave such a brutal mark on you. He knows it'll stir misconceptions between them, and it's the least he wants considering their little getaway planned. For what it's worth, he doesn't want to be stuck with five envious and horny dudes who will compete unconsciously to win your heart. He's let that happen one too many times to know the repercussions always bite one in the ass.

You can hear Wooyoung's breath turning ragged from beside you. He has myriad of thoughts on his mind, but knows none of them are coherent enough to share. You've taken a note of nervous tick a countless times, the way his lips stay parted, the way his breathing picks up and the way he zones out; you know he's calculating, he's comprehending the jumble of notions in his head which try too hard to make sense. You gently cup a side of his face and kiss the tip of his nose.

"Sorry for calling you dick-face."

He snaps out of his daze, "I—what?" he pauses, perception long lost. Smiling at you, he shrugs, "this isn't about the name-calling, Angel."

"Then?"

"Time will tell you, maybe all of us," he leans into your hand for a fraction of second before pulling back and kissing your cheek, "also, try not to cry. Shopping with Hongjoong is awfully terrible."

"What?"

"Oh sweetie, he will make you cry."

Wooyoung gets off the couch, the faint scent of his aftershave lingering as he leaves the living room. With his lingering scent, his words linger too. You're trying to piece it all together when Hongjoong emerges out of his room, striding with poise as he takes big steps down the hallway. He's draped a long burgundy coat over his outfit, and his hair is more pushed back than dishevelled. Flashing you a small smile, he nudges you up with a nod and expects to follow him out. On the way, he grabs his car keys while slipping into loafers and the two of you leave a very serene apartment behind.

For all the days you've spent with them, this day was starting to take a turn you weren't too fond off. You can't exactly place a finger on what was more surprising; the fact that Hongjoong listened to One Direction or that he owned a convertible. Both were equally astounding. The drive to the outdoor store was manageable, a random One Direction song played in the background, the volume lowered enough for you to hear him and be audible. The engine on the car dies with a soft purr, making you unbuckle your seatbelt. However, the doors remain locked. Hongjoong turns to you, deciphering the confusion on your face and letting out a small laugh.

"I need to talk to you."

You sink back into the seat.

Hongjoong clears his throat, "I apologize for the remark I made back at the apartment. As I recall and retrace it in my mind, I do agree, it came off as sexist. Kinda."

"You're still stuck there?"

"I tend to overthink." He shrugs, "a lot. Besides, the point is about knowing my boundaries even if it meant you're okay with it. I should think before I speak."

"You are worrying for no reason." You reassure him, reaching out to squeeze his hand which still stayed on the steering wheel. "Now, come on, the store's about to close. If we don't get the tent, Seonghwa will eat us alive."

He seems to crack up at the joke.

Inside the store, rummaging around through the different supply aisles, you feel lost trying to find the camping gear section. Luckily enough, you spot a sales associate and sprint to him. He's around your age, maybe a year or two younger than you; as you approach him, his face contorts to a scowl.

"You know we're almost closing up, right?"

"We just need one thing."

"Are you sure it's only one thing?"

The determined lines of his scowl disappear into his cheeks to form a smile; unaware of Hongjoong's presence behind you, you wondered why the sales associate, going by the name, Tae-Joon, seemingly became so accommodating to you. However, the realisation dawns over you in a gradual succession of his scent and intimidating posture. Hongjoong's smooth voice flows along the words his lips shape out to, while one of his hands rests on the small of your back. The heat from his hand is palpable, deterring your said worries about Wooyoung's nonchalant remark before leaving and all it leaves behind is a weak resolve of staying composed.

"Tae-Joon, right?" his eyes dart to the nametag pinned on his shirt, "look dear, we're in need of a small tent—a two person tent that is. Unless you want to stay back couple of hours after your shift, you're free to stall us with your scowls and snarks." Hongjoong's voice drops, "but you do understand the urgency in my tone, don't you? Then why don't you be a good little boy and bring me what we need."

With a stern nod of his head, Tae-Joon rushes in his feet and saunters through the aisles to get you the required item. Hongjoong offers a soft squeeze to the side of your waist as his hand slips off; there's certain type of satisfaction grazing his sharp features as he watches the young sale's associate stumble and fall trying to fulfil his request, and in all fairness, you found it eerily gratifying too. Tae-Joon runs against the time, huffing in front of you two as he holds up a new, packed tent in his hands.

"There you go, sir."

Hongjoong hums and takes the tent from his hands only to hand it to you. "Do you need a sleeping bag too? Actually, there were extra sleeping bags—let me check Seonghwa's list real quick."

You watch him fidget with the pockets on his trench coat before he pulls out the list and then fishes out a small case of his glasses from the inner pocket; pair of sleek-framed silver glasses sit atop the bridge of his nose while he squints his eyes to read the lettering etched across the white paper. Once his glasses are comfortably perched on his face, he puts the case back inside.

"Tent, in big bold letters. Done, and off the list," he mumbles, reading from it, "there's no sleeping bag listed here, so I guess this is all we'll need from the outdoor store."

Hongjoong glances at you, "anything else you think you'll need over the weekend vacay?"

"Nothing that I think of," you catch Tae-Joon quickly excusing himself from the two of you. "We should pay for the tent and leave. What else has Hwa listed on there?"

Hongjoong shrugs, pocketing the list and his glasses, "some snacks and meds for the ride. We'll get them on our way home."
For an odd reason, you were looking forward to your stop at the convenience store. If you had anyone to blame for your cravings, it had to be your emotions, which were all over the place. This wasn't new to you, munching on candy because your heart says one thing and your mind is always against it; you're used to the plain and simple urges your body was subjected through whenever a war raged between you, your heart and your conscience. The ride to the convenience store was a lot quieter than before; the nearest store to the loft stayed open all night, and as from your occasional detours from when you'd come back from university, you had the blueprint of the store ingrained in your mind. When you enter the store, welcomed by a shrill bell at the entrance, you're light on your feet to navigate through the aisles.

The fluorescent haze of the aisles contrasts starkly to the ambiguous dark of the night. Faint hum of the air conditioning follows you around, along with the faded chatters of the group of boys by the register. Your gaze flutters from corner to corner, spanning across the poorly mopped floors. Empty shelves have a fair share in burning a memory in your mind you weren't too fond of, not now, considering the man plaguing it is the man you didn't want to think about. Echoes of the your chaotic laughter blend in with his deliberate and stern warnings, a bit whiny as you remember the late night shenanigans you were a part of with him. It was the night as this one. As the cars pass by, the streaks of their headlights paint your mind in a new colours, what they drain out is the nostalgia you were supposedly living in. The fall back into reality is always harsh and you take a deep breath to tackle the bubbling dilemma, searching through the different aisles for your comfort.

Instant noodles aisle, didn't care.

Health and beauty, maybe a quick scan after you're done with your cravings.

Ready-to-eat meals, you didn't mind picking up two gimbaps on the way to your favourite aisle.

The small shelf is stacked with the sweets you adore the most; you grab a few packs of pepero, each of the available flavour. Your basket seems to be half full from the pepero boxes and the two random gimbaps you grabbed on the way; sated with your choice of candies and chocolates, you look around to find Hongjoong, realising you had left him behind from the moment you stepped out of his car. How hard could it be to find a blob of burgundy strolling around? Well...

"There she is," Hongjoong chuckles from beside you, making you flinch at the sudden call, "fascinating, it truly is the brain of this woman."

"I had no idea you'd be so eager for snacks." He adds, peering into the basket in your hands, "those aren't enough, considering it is the nine of us who'll be sharing. I think we'd need more, Angel."

You offer him a half-hearted shrug, "what do the others like? Any specific preferences?"

Hongjoong mulls over your question for a short second before breaking out into a small smile, "Jongho hates sweets, so nothing sweet for him..." he trails off, walking over to the snacks section, while expecting you to follow him. "Seonghwa isn't picky, perse, but I he'd kill me if I didn't bring him anything sweet and salty. San and Wooyoung can basically gobble anything..."

His fingers dance over the various array of snacks, his mind still reeling with everyone's requirement. You are awestruck by his capability to pick a snack out for his roommates, while keeping their choice and preference in mind. Minutes flash by, and he's done with his task, immaculately. No wonder Seonghwa made him do the work. Hongjoong's efficient eyes scan the list one last time before they land on you, standing next to him with a dumbfounded look on your face.

He smirks at you, "need anything more, Angel?"

"Ramyeon..." you squeak, somewhat still caught under his resourceful impression.

"What kind?"

"Anything is fine."

Hongjoong only smiles at your request.

┈┈・ ✦ ・┈┈

         "It was really hard to refuse him, you know," Hongjoong laughs, turning to you, "his puppy eyes can...can do things to you. And it's not always he'd try to melt you down with them—I mean you know it, right? He's so adept at bringing them up whenever he needs them to."

"I am aware." You giggle, taking a bite of your ice-cream. "Then what happened?"

"What do you think must've happened?"

You shake your head, already getting your answer.

For the night to turn this way was an unpredictable gamble of your fate and luck. After buying the snacks and essentials meds at the store, Hongjoong had an epiphany staring at the crescent moon in sky; the two of you rushed back inside, bought your favourite ice-creams and came back out to only lean against the hood of his car and talk in the parking lot shared by a deserted car wash and the convenience store. The night breeze has a certain scent of mirth to it, a start of something new perhaps. Your gazes lingered for a long minute and your heart couldn't contain it in. The next minute you know you're spilling your guts to him, confessing of the week long dilemma you had been troubled with and how awkward your encounters with this certain someone had become. Hongjoong offered you a sense of calm amid the wreck of your inklings and paved a path to the clarity you were seeking. His advices are as good as they come; you wondered if his sentiments had always been this profound for someone of his age.

Tales were exchanged, laughter was amplified, and woes were shared; Hongjoong took a vague turn in his stories however and started narrating you of the time he had first met Yunho and Seonghwa. The story led to a lot of revelations, some beneficial, some benign, some out of curiosity and others were sheer stupidity.

"It is as I say, Angel. Yunho is scared of confrontations," his words hang in the air like a howling whisper before he continues, "you either wait till the stars in your universe align for some fucking miracle or you confess and induce a fear in him for the unsure future you two hold. The choice is yours."

You had nothing more to say, other than maybe sounding a low hum from your chest to agree with him. Silence becomes your friend again, and while it lasts, you both finish your ice-creams and toss the empty wrapper and stick in a spare polythene bag. In his unconscious haze, Hongjoong whistles a tune of the song which had been stuck in his head; the euphonium surrounds you in the night air and offers you a bit of calm. Though, his whistling soon stops as he whispers a question to you, his eyes fixed on you.

"You know, I'm quite fascinated by your name." He turns to you fully, crossing his arms over his chest, "Moon Angel, you don't get to hear that a lot around here."

Letting out a small titter from the back of your throat, you shrug, "I think you'll have to credit my mom."

"So, mother Moon is responsible for giving you such an alluring name?"

"I know it's out of ordinary, but apparently, according to my mother, she thought I looked like an angel when I was born," you explain, "it was her first word to me, and my father just went with it. He etched it on my birth certificate and I was officially and legally, Moon Angel."

Hongjoong chuckles softly, probably at the fond memory you shared, "got bullied a lot?"

"You know it, man." You laugh, running a hand through your hair. "Well, for the first few years of my school, my mom convinced me that the other kids were jealous of my unique name. I believed her. Guess that's how gullible I was as a kid."

"I like your name, it's different and moan-able."

A momentary phase of quietude thrashes in the bounds, carrying subtle sounds of his coat's crinkles to your ears and your eyes meet with his. Hongjoong stands in front of you, his arms trailing up your sides, from your hips to your waist. Your body stays trapped between his and the hood of his car; a playfully devious smirk twists his lips in one side and he leans in. Warm breaths mingle in the little to no space between you both and creates a faded mist of white, you were wrecked by anticipation or by the time which moved ever so slowly to capture the longing searing past your stomach. If you could make a move you would, though, you counted all the seconds till he did something.

Your lips brush, almost, too dainty to call it anything at all; Hongjoong peeks up at you through his dark lashes, intention evident in the swirl of ambers in them. Without thinking, you deepen the kiss, a rush of breath stays trapped between your mouths when it does. His hands slide down to your hips, squeezing them tightly till his fingers left indentions of his passion and desires. The kiss escalates, warping time and your constraint over rationality. There's more to this, to the ardour growing in between breaths and nibbles and you know your self-control is soon going to slip through. However, when his fingers simmer their touches under your dress, you really do lose it. A moan parts your lips and his tongue finds its way in; the sloppy dominance of his tongue has you gasping for more, has legs around his waist and your arms snaking around his neck.

Hongjoong's touches become daring, his fingers are splayed over your thighs, and every whimper the kiss soaked in, they inched up your inner thighs. Realisation is daunting but exhilarating at the same time; the warmth of his hand grows closer to your soaked cunt, and soon, two of his fingers hook around the strap of your panties. He pushes it down swiftly and a growl erupts from his chest when he senses your dampness on his knuckles. The accidental brush-up wasn't really accidental. You pant when his mouth sets yours free and kisses are trailed down your neck. The overwhelming sense of it all, of his touches, of his lips and the subtle hardness pressing against your stomach when he slots himself better between your legs, is too much. You spread them further apart, hoping its comfortable for him. Though, nothing about this seems comfortable; you, on the hood of his car, legs wrapped around his waist and his hands roaming under your dress. Not that comfort mattered at this point anyway.

All thoughts had been trashed out the window of thinking here, just pure, unadulterated passion existed in every crack of your voice when you moaned, and in every grunt he constrained in the back of his throat. Hongjoong's cold fingertips graze down your mound, then, slowly and gently, one finger dips down the curve of your slit. His lips are light on your skin, peppering kisses, grazing them almost too softly to keep you on edge. Disappointment cracks through your façade soon, his finger no longer rubbing between your folds; he pulls one of his hands out from under your dress, and glances at the finger, glistening with your wetness.

"Fuck..." he groans, "I wasn't expecting you to be so..."

You cut him off, "riled up? Well, I am now. So, do something about it."

"As you say."

He smirks, and buries his face in the crook of your neck. His hand slides effortlessly back under your dress, fingers caressing and cupping your mound before slips right in your slit. Your panties strain around your knees when you try to spread your even wider than before. Hongjoong chuckles softly at your attempt, untwining your legs from around his waist; he grabs your ankles and pushes them up, making your legs fold and your knees touch your chest. The flounce of your dress flutters to the night breeze, you press your lips together and bite back on a shiver.

"There we go, much easier now." His lips twitch when he pushes the flounce of your dress till your waist and keeps it pinned there by his hand.

You moan quietly when the thumb of his other hand pushes swiftly between your folds before his fingers part them away to reveal your sensitive bud. He peeks up at you before toying with your clit, using his thumb to swipe up and down, back and forth, oscillating his thumb-pad across it to his own will. When your moans start sounding too desperate, his forefinger traces down your slit and slithers right in, stretching you out slightly. He curls it once, twice, thrice, thrusting it while trying to go in deeper.

"Fuck..." you gasp, your jaw slacking wide open, and your eyes fluttering close.

"Hmm," Hongjoong hums, pushing his finger deep.

Without warning, he adds another finger and starts thrusting in and out till he's knuckles deep in you. Your walls squelch around his fingers. Peeking down, you find the base of his fingers gleaming with your secretions. Your gazes meet and his pace increases; the precision of his fingers, the pace, the heat in his eyes, aids in forming the knot in the pit of your stomach. You were close to flutter all around his fingers, but not quite there yet, the end was far too away from your grasp. Hongjoong's lips curve into a deceiving smirk, entailing the little notion he had in his mind. Your walls clench around nothing, disappointment floods your senses—the emptiness is unpleasant though the mischievous spark in his eyes tells a different tale.

A groan resounds from your chest and you try to buck your hips up, trying to find his fingers in the midst. Using one hand you reach out for him, clutching his shirt in the palm too tightly. His smirk falters and is replaced by a soft frown; you had no time to comprehend how his fingers were back in you, in such a haste and hurry—squelching your velvety walls and reaching in deep to find that spot. He adds a third finger, stretching you out deliciously on his hand. The strokes get rougher, deeper, harder. He's plunging them as deep as they could go.

You're past the point of calling this an average finger-fuck session. This is more. Not coherent yet, but it's slightly deviating from what you had in mind when he first initiated the kiss, or as his hands roamed over your body. You could feel the ridges of his knuckles, the sturdy bones biting into your flesh—the feeling is absolute magic, pleasant for the heat curling back up in your cunt and stomach.

The tip of his fingers brush against the particular spot he had been after for so long, making you moan loudly. Hongjoong clamps his other hand down on your mouth, keeping your sounds muffled—not that he wanted to, but it was necessary to keep you in bounds or you might get caught. Maybe, half of your desires were flared by the idea of getting caught, you were semi-public, almost. Anyone could walk out of the store, the cashier itself. The thrill set off a penchant for being caught, and watched.

"Shhh, I think we should be quiet." Hongjoong grunts, "or do you want to get caught? Watched...?"

With every word, he thrusted his fingers deep. You shake your head, clinging onto him now—your arms were snaked around his neck, his body leaning into yours. When your legs started to shake, he held them down by his arm, pushing them to open you up wider. He watched as his fingers disappeared in and out of your cunt, deliberately pushing them against your g-spot.

You were seeing stars, almost. The flashes of white grow intense when his resilient pace picks up and pushes you over the edge. Soon, your eyes are rolling in the back of your head, your lips are trembling as you chant his name in breathy moans, and your walls clench tightly around his fingers. Your orgasm hit you hard, knocking the air out of your lungs and making your body shudder to the sensitivity. Sensing your intense spasms, his fingers slow down to prolong your orgasm, to make it less painful judging by the way you were panting.

He slowly pulls them out, noticing your walls had gone still. "Are you okay? Too much?"

You shake your head and watch him lick his fingers glistening with your juices and arousal. "I'm okay. Just never really had experienced an orgasm by mere g-spot stimulation."

"Yeah, many women don't find it pleasant." He shrugs lightly and pulls out his handkerchief, wiping you off between your legs with gentle strokes and touches. "I suppose you're not one of them."

"Well, it was pleasantly delightful. You have small fingers compared to—"

Before you could utter the name, Hongjoong's phone rings loudly. He stuffs his handkerchief in the back pocket of his pants, and pulls out his phone. Answering it immediately, he doesn't even bother checking the ID. He knew who it was.

"Yeah, we're done. Almost. Heading back home."

Hongjoong straightens out your dress and helps you hop off the hood of his car. Your legs tremble slightly, aftershocks of your orgasm rolling out of your body in phases. He takes a step back and starts talking on the phone, while you settle in the passenger's seat, waiting for him. He returns back in couple of minutes and sighs, driving out of the parking lot. The next and final destination was apartment 405.

"Seonghwa might be mad at us." He speaks up grimly, but a chuckle reverberates from his chest regardless, "well he doesn't know what I was hunting for."