OMGOMGOMGOMG I CANNOT BELIEVE WE ARE BEING BLESSED WITH MORE FROM THIS UNIVERSE??? Although I Adored

OMGOMGOMGOMG I CANNOT BELIEVE WE ARE BEING BLESSED WITH MORE FROM THIS UNIVERSE??? although I adored the previous series, the ending left me absolutely insane, and even if we don't get much in the way of explanation, idc, I just love everything you write!!!!

[1] sector one: post-apocalypse au + mingi + “welcome to sector one.”

a/n: 4k words, gender neutral reader as always, mingi x y/n, descriptions of death, technically a sequel so there will be references/easter eggs to what happened in the previous fic however this can be read as a standalone, su1cide mentions/descriptions of the aftermath of one, post-apocalypse/dystopia-typical violence, aliens, thriller/suspense genre, baker!yn

series masterlist | part 2

-

the end of the world wasn’t so bad.

not when you had nothing going for you back before the Invasion. you were up to your eyeballs in debt, never had a place to call home thanks to running from loan sharks and dealing with greedy landlords hiking up rent prices, and you’d barely had time to make friends let alone date anyone seriously.

the worst part, you knew, was that your parents were wonderful. you had no deadbeat father or mother. no terrible childhood. no issues. they supported you through your school as much as they could, and they sent you opportunities whenever they could. your father even learned how to use kakaotalk properly to keep in touch, sending you selfies and encouraging texts whenever he sensed you were struggling. they even offered to help you pay off your debt. you’d refused. they needed the money, too. you had a wonderful support system, yet you still struggled. whoever said money did not buy happiness clearly never lived paycheck to paycheck.

you loved your parents, and they were the only people you’ve ever truly loved. they were the only people you ever really knew.

but they did not live in the city, and when you’d escaped the city after the initial Invasion - it took you a week of sneaking and crawling through back alleys just to end up hot wiring an abandoned car at the outskirts of the city - you drove to your childhood home. you’d pulled into the dirt path leading up the the old lopsided house with a heaviness in your heart, wary of the eerie emptiness. during the day, your mother often left the windows open to air out the house. all the windows were shut right, curtains drawn. you’d unlocked the door and watched as the door swung open, knocking into the shoe rack with a dull thud in the tiny threshold up into the kitchen and living room. your mother was never the neatest, so the basket of laundry on the kitchen counter, folded perfectly, sent a chill down your spine. your father always locked the liquor cabinet, but the scratched wooden door swung open, creaking on its hinges. you'd brandished the crowbar you'd found in the trunk of the car you stole, your hands trembling, as you stepped into your house and searched the two small bedrooms down the hallway. the bedrolls were tucked into the corner, pillows laid neatly atop of them. your mother’s little table that usually spilled over with products was spotless. the kitchen was the cleanest you’d ever seen it. your room remained as you left it, childhood band posters and all. the only thing that was off were the two soju glasses and the two plates of food - half eaten and rotting, flies buzzing - on the table in the living room. four soju bottles sat lined up on the table. all empty. you'd gone out back, to the tiny workshop you'd saved up to buy your father a few years back.

the garage door would always be open, but this time the door was shut. there was the faint smell of gasoline in the air. you'd stepped closer, your heart beating heavily against your chest, and with closer inspection you found your father’s pickup truck parked neatly inside. he never parked it inside.

the garage door was not locked, and the sound of it groaning as you dragged it open echoed. it made the hairs at the back of your neck stand on end. but the worst part, you thought, was the smell. it smelled like something had died, and your breath grew heavy in your chest at that thought as you choked on the lump in your throat, pressing your fingers to your mouth to suppress an involuntary sob. you did not have to look. deep down, you knew the outcome that awaited you at the other end of the garage. but you were always one to dig. to want to know everything, no matter how badly it'd hurt you.

that day, you found your parents dead in the front seat of their pickup truck, the windows cracked open slightly, the garage smelling heavily of exhaust smoke, gasoline, and death. the keys were still in the truck. they looked as if they could have been sleeping, heads resting on the other. you'd gagged still, and ran from the garage, heaving for air.

you'd found yourself in your childhood bedroom, back pressed to your closed door, surrounded by a room still stuck in the past, before all this, and you lamented the fact that even now, you could not cry. you’d been so focused on survival for so long, that you just did not know how to cry. all you could was lay on the floor of your childhood bedroom, stare at the ceiling, and wonder what you were supposed to do now. you'd never had so much time to just...sit.

still, despite the lack of tears, you allowed yourself the night to grieve. to feel sad, at least, only because you knew that was what you were supposed to do. then you'd raided your parent's pantry for anything edible and packed extra clothes, books, a couple tools, and a carefully folded photo of you and your parents. you threw it all in the backseat of your stolen car, taking one last look at your childhood home, before you drove. your vision blurred from lack of sleep, and your heart ached, and you did not know where you were going. you just knew you needed to put as much space between yourself and your parents as you could.

the weather was beautiful and the sky was blue, cloudless, and you hated that the breeze kissed your cheek so gently as you left. you wanted so badly to cry then. to sob. you would not learn to cry again u til much later, but this was perhaps a start. as you drove, you realized you had time to think. for the first time in your life, you had time to think and feel and wonder what to do. you had all the time in the world. the thought was more freeing than you wanted to admit, yet you did not feel entirely guilty for it.

after the Invasion, you decided to spend your time looking for food. you spent a lot of time thinking, and living, and learning about yourself and your wants and needs, and for the first time in years you felt as if you could just simply exist. for the first time in years, you sat down and cried. it was perhaps a month or two later, after you’d barricaded yourself in an empty apartment for the night and you happened upon a locked bedroom. you’d opened it with a hairpin, and immediately regretted it - it was merely an empty nursery, but there was a wall of family photos, and you found yourself examining each picture until your knees buckled beneath you and you cried for the first time in decades.

as you drove from ghost town to ghost town, and eventually walked because your car ran out of fuel, you found that the end of the world wasn’t so bad. sure, whatever was in the fog at night was terrifying, and the scratching and screaming and clicking noises at night made you skin crawl - it was a sound you heard everywhere the night of the Invasion, leading you to conclude that the only explanation had to be an Invasion. of what? you had no idea, and, frankly, you did not want to know. your curiosity certainly did not extend that far - not when the things hanging in the sky made the hairs at the back of your neck stand on end.

sure, some of the other survivors you met while you stocked up on food and weapons were, frankly, unsettling as fuck. but you were a quick learner and you knew to stay out of trouble - you always had since you were a kid - and, maybe, the end of the world and whatever Invaded the planet didn’t have to matter in the grand scheme of things.

maybe, you could ignore it.

all you had to do was survive.

for years, you befriended groups of other survivors and then fled when things started to get too intense. you stayed with one group until they started tracking other survivor groups down on purpose, and their intentions went from stealing things your group needed for survival to so much worse. the moment you caught a smug, almost-excited glint in one of the men's eyes as he told your group that a small group consisting of mostly women and children were camped out in the woods further north, you'd gathered your things and ran as far as you could.

another group wanted to create a safe haven for survivors and started talking about settling, hope marring their expressions. you’d fled in the middle of the night with just enough supplies to keep you afloat until you found some other place to squat in or some other group to gain temporary protection from until the cycle began again.

you kept yourself quiet and easy to digest, but not weak, never weak. you had to make yourself useful, of course, so the groups wouldn't feel like they were taking on a burden, and you did not want to be an easy target. however, when one group you met kept calling you pretty, when their eyes held a glint that sent shivers down your back, and their lingering touches made you want to gag, you’d ditched that group that very same hour, and you did not feel an inkling of guilt as you took their biggest weapon and the precious ramyun packs they’d found two towns over. you’d run far, far away from that group, in case they decided to come looking for you. after that encounter, you kept your head down and made it a point to leave a group at the first sign of trouble. you refused to get attached, or worse.

until you stumbled upon a place with a purple flag fluttering over a tower and sturdy walls and the sounds of people laughing drifting out from the walls and military trucks. something akin to hope fluttered at the pit of your stomach, a dangerous thing to feel, but inevitable as you stared down at the walls to a settlement that looked and sounded too good to be true. you wanted to turn away, but you were tired and you hadn’t found an inkling of food for nearly a week. so you stepped over the hill with your hands raised in surrender.

a beautiful woman with dark eyes, inky black hair, and an air of cheerful authority that entered the room long before she did, met you in the small room they'd isolated you in for. she introduced herself as joy - a fitting name really, especially when she smiled. her voice was gentle and soft, airy even. she was like a breath of fresh air. it left you wary, despite your exhaustion and hunger.

she stood between you and the door. she seemed to be waiting for you to speak. when you remained silent, she only smiled, "where are my manners? welcome to sector one. we've been attack-free for one hundred and ninety-two days."

you'd blinked at that admission.

"how?" you croaked, your throat dry.

she waved a hand, and the guard at the door brought a small mug of water to where you sat. you’d stared at it. she reached over and took a sip of it herself, before she handed it to you. it wasn’t drugged, at least, so you gulped it down.

her voice was so soft, kind, as she waited for you to put the mug down, "if you wish to stay, i'll tell you. otherwise, i only hope you enjoy your stay."

"i..." you'd blinked, "i can leave?"

she'd smiled, and although her smile was genuine and wide, contagious almost, it did not reach her eyes. despite the years of living in a post-invasion world, you knew a customer service smile when you saw one.

she said, "this isn't a prison. you may stay for as long as you'd like. as long as you help out and clean up after yourself, that is."

you were not sure if you believed her, but you did not question it. instead, you introduced yourself.

joy smiled.

~.~.~.~.~

you meant to only stay for a little while. you had half a mind to find the supply room, steal the best they had to offer, and sneak away in the middle of the night. this was only supposed to be a short term stay anyway.

but joy, with her sweet smile and piercing gaze, sat down beside you during dinner your second evening and asked, “what did you like to do before the aliens?”

“i don’t know,” you’d shrugged, “i didn’t have much time to figure out what i liked.”

she raised a brow, “why?”

“i worked a lot. needed the money.”

“understandable,” she laughed, but her smile grew sad, "you’ll have to earn your keep during your stay. i only wanted to place you somewhere you’d enjoy."

“that’s…” you frowned at her, “kind of you.”

“they don’t call me joy for nothing,” she said with another small smile. then she squeezed your shoulder and waved goodbye, moving onto another table.

you’d been assigned all over the compound after that.

laundry and weapons and scouting and teaching and cleaning and the kitchens. you found you liked baking. you were kneading dough, with flour all over your hands. you hadn’t noticed joy enter the room until she tapped lightly on the entrance to the kitchen. you looked up, and joy leaned against the door frame, grinning, a hint of excitement in her airy voice, “i think we finally found something you like.”

you blinked back tears at the kind smile. you were beginning to think you’d never know what you liked, that you were incapable of remembering something so menial. for once, you could relax.

joy only smiled, and turned on her heels, leaving you alone. after that encounter, however, you were assigned most of your shifts in the kitchen, and for once you enjoyed getting up to go to work.

you should have known you’d end up staying then. it was difficult to give up a place that seemed safe from the things in the fog and in the sky. that first night, after the sun set, you were on edge, worried you’d get devoured or torn apart by whatever lived in the thick fog that engulfed the world. instead, the compound was peaceful, quiet. distant clicks were just that: distant.

you wondered what kept the monsters away. perhaps it was military equipment - that would explain the military cars. perhaps it was something else. either way, you were safe here, and you knew you’d be an idiot to throw something as precious as safety away. you’d always remember sitting in your tiny apartment that first night, with the door barricaded and a symphony of screams echoing all around you. the horrors on the television, of the live news broadcast showing the news anchor at the scene, talking one second, before she looked up. the pure terror in her eyes as a sudden shadow loomed over her like a dark cloud, and her scream that followed after before the camera was knocked to the ground would remained etched in your memory. a loud keening echoed through your apartment before the television turned to static. you saw something on that television that night, but you did not know how to explain it. you couldn’t even truly comprehend it. it was black, and long, and it had your instincts screaming at you to get far, far away. yet, you had no idea what to call it. you didn’t have the time to figure that out either, compartmentalizing the memory as neatly as you could. you meant to deal with it later, but as many of the things in your life did, it fell to the wayside and you never got to unpacking it.

during those first days, you’d established two rules for yourself. one: no going out after sunset, and, two, no getting attached to anyone or anything.

easy rules, really.

but then you stood in front of joy, and you said, “i want to stay.”

~.~.~.~.~

a year later, and you are the head baker in the kitchens. most of the time, you figure out different bread recipes with what little ingredients you have available to you. sometimes, you get permission to make sweets - cream breads and cakes and mousses and cookies - and those are your favorite days.

to think the life you'd lived after you drove away from your family home was all you were going to have in this world. you truly believed that even then, despite the time to think and exist, you'd been living, when in fact you were only surviving. this past year was spent learning how to truly live.

despite a whole entire year, you still did not figure out much.

you like baking.

you do not know your favorite color.

maybe it’s green? or purple? pink? blue?

your sheets are a faded green. the shirt you gravitate towards is a deep blue. the only food coloring anyone's found on runs is pink, so your icing and decorations are always pink. you don't know what that means for you.

you don’t like jackfruit. there’s a couple trees growing in the greenhouse out back, past the weapons training tents and the exit used for scavenging groups.

you kind of like tangerines. a lot of them grow in the greenhouse.

you like joy. yeri is assigned as your assistant more often than not, and though she talks too much, you like her too.

you don’t know much else about yourself, and it’s a strange place to be in, where you are trying to just be but you do not have the capacity to do so.

“hey.”

you look up. a, frankly, beautiful man with pointed, delicate features and longer black hair hovers near the entrance of the kitchen, his hands stuffed in his pocket. his eyes sparkle under the bright fluorescent lighting.

Before the Invasion, he may have looked kinder, sweeter, but his eyes have a hardened look to them you've seen in everyone you'd come across since the Invasion. he's pretty though, unbelievably so despite the circumstances of life now.

his movements, however, are stilted, awkward, and you notice the way he fidgets with his fingers, even when he stuffs his hands in his pockets when he notices you looking at his hands.

you understand the fidgeting - you got into the habit of fiddling with the old pocketknife you swiped from one of the houses you'd holed up in long ago. maybe, he was the same. sector one allowed for everyone to carry small weapons like pocket knives, but no one was allowed to take them out. bigger weapons had to be signed out from the weapons room, and you could only use it in the training field or outside the walls. newcomers, however, were not allowed to carry anything for six months. you'd fidgeted a lot like him when joy had your pocketknife locked up.

"hey," you match his tone, watching as he shuffles from foot to foot before he meets your gaze. his hardened eyes hold more confidence than his body language. it's almost unsettling how steady his gaze is. "the pastry kitchen isn't open until after lunch, if that's what you're here for."

he blinked, his gaze flitting to your flour-covered fingers.

"oh," he said, "joy said...i thought it was open, sorry."

"did joy send you here?" you call before he can swivel away.

"yeah."

"okay," you draw out the word. perhaps it's your decades of customer service skills, or perhaps it's because you understand how strange it was to live in a place like this, after years of living beyond the walls, but you find yourself softening for him. "we have some pastries leftover from last night. what is this for? usually joy doesn't send anyone so early unless there's a good reason."

his eyes narrow in suspicion, "is that any of your business?"

you raise a brow at his biting tone. you get it, you really do, the mistrust and the caution. you get all of it. but you're the head baker, and there were plenty of newcomers here since you'd been appointed your position that could force at least a civil tone, despite their misgivings.

"yes, it is entirely my business," you responded, frowning at him. "do you really want to piss off the head baker at the only bakery in sector one?"

he tenses at your response, glancing away. he mutters something under his breath.

you cross your arms, "excuse me? i didn't catch that."

"sorry," he mumbles.

"it's fine. just don't do it again. i wouldn't want to have to start a wall of shame because of you," you respond.

he snorts a little, rolling his eyes, but the tension in his shoulders has lessened the smallest bit, at least. after a beat, he says, "my friend is upset, and i wanted to get him something to make him feel better. he's a big fan of anything sweet. joy said to come here."

"anything specific for...?"

"his name is mingi."

"sounds like a cookie type of guy."

the pretty man says, "he is."

"well, i have some baking right now, if you'd like to wait a few minutes," you wipe your hands on your apron, before you meet his steady, almost unsettling gaze, and you ask, "and what about you? what kind of pastry guy are you?"

"I don't really like pastries anymore," the man shrugs as he breaks eye contact with you. you get that, too.

"that's fair," you say.

he leans against the wall, and the room falls into silence. you take that as a sign to return to your work, kneading the dough before letting it settle in a small bowl. you already have a few loaves of bread done settling. you can feel his eyes on you as you work. you're not sure if you like it or not.

the oven beeps - you'd been shocked to find a working oven in a world like this, so shocked in fact that you did not ask how the electricity was so constant, or how the pastry kitchen was so state-of-the-art. the kitchen used to cook was down the hall, and it was much bigger, with more staff than this one.

you take the cookies out, and the smell of baked chocolate chip cookies fills the little pastry kitchen.

the man stares in awe - at least you think that is it with the way his eyes widen, twinkling slightly under the bright fluorescent lighting. he seems to be fighting a grin.

you ramble, as you wait for the cookies to cool, "one of the groups found a couple packs of chocolate chips in an underground bunker. i didn't think i'd have these again, honestly. everyone's going to lose their minds."

you look up, and the mans expression is twisted, his brows furrowed, and frown prominent.

he doesn't say anything, so you don't push it.

instead, you pick up a ceramic plate, and place two warm cookies on it. they're hot to the touch, even through the plate. you hold out the plate to him, and you say, "here's one for your friend mingi, and one for you..."

you trail off, waiting patiently.

"yeosang," he says, after a long moment. "it's yeosang."

"well, yeosang," you say, smiling as he takes the plate, "bring back the plate. washed. or i really will create a wall of shame just to put up a big picture of you."

he nods briskly, his other hand shoved in his pocket.

you don't know if you like yeosang or not.

hopefully he's getting high out of his MIND

so I am catching up with nct and

idk where this man is but he's not here with us rn

omg the Uno reverse card??? Love this an unhealthy amount

Warrior God

ღPairings: Choi San × Reader(f) ღGenre: God au, Chinese Zodiac influenced, also anime influenced ღTrope: e2l (perhaps if i continue this???) ღWord count: 1,427 ღWarnings: fighting anime style, suggestive dialogue, reader has a dungeon apparently ღRated: 18+ MDNI, smut ღSummary: The Wolf God has recently been taking down the other god's kingdoms one by one, and your kingdom is next. Or at least, that's what he thinks ღDedication: @mejuii​ @downtoamagicalland​ my speedy betas, thank you loves ღA/N: this was burning in my skull after watching San's warrior cover, so I had to get it out! Enjoy~

“Mistress, he’s coming,” Seonghwa called from the window of your tower, no need to hold back the diaphanous window coverings for a storm was approaching.

“Then it is time for you to go, Seonghwa,” You commanded, finishing tying up your sash from your pants. 

Seonghwa rushed to your side, placing his hands over yours, not wanting to miss one moment of your preparations. “I will not leave your side,” he insisted.

You gripped his chin in your hand harshly, almost comically squishing his cheeks together. His large eyes raised to meet yours. “Are you questioning my authority right now?”

Seonghwa’s eyes moved downwards in subservience. “Never, Goddess, but--”

Your hand let go of him but instead patted his head. “You know why you must go. Now go.” You motioned with your chin towards your door.

Seonghwa’s lips parted, as if he wanted to speak more words but your face was hard for the upcoming battle and Seonghwa knew he could not afford to distract you with soft facts of love and adoration. “As you command, Mistress.” He bowed lowly, hand behind back and against his stomach and was gone in a flurry that his rabbit spirit afforded him.

ღღღ

San strode through the gates of your castle, confident steps as his warrior army surrounded him. His sharp eyes quickly assessed the battlefield and found there was only one body to meet him in this assault.

“Did you send everyone away, Goddess?” San barked across the courtyard as he continued to sweep inside. “Afraid I’ll kill all the people you protect?”

“Yes,” You replied melodically, “I did send all my people away. If they remained, they would get killed.”

San’s broad stance spoke of confidence. His jacket and chains of leaving his mortal life still clung to him. “I would have thought that the Horse God would be much more sure of her powers.”

The laughter that escaped your lips bubbled up in your chest and grew and grew in power. Soon the entire courtyard was full of your borderline crazy laughter. San at first was smiling, as if he was waiting to be let in on the joke and then slowly it dimmed into confusion. 

“I dismissed my people so that I can let loose my powers, San,” You cooly informed him. You pushed off your robe, left only in a sleeveless shirt and baggy pants. Your horse tattoo ran along your back, where your shirt did not cover, only wrapping around your torso, with loose sleeves dangling down your arms. Your magic, which was bright purple in color, waved around you, airy and whimsical. 

San’s followers quickly pulled off his jacket, revealing the majority of San’s tattoos. His with stark black against his golden skin. A wolf’s contenance sat on his left breast. He snarled like a wolf, pounding his chest and clenching his fists. His power appeared as if blue fire, raging like flames all over his body. His followers shrunk back at the heat and he almost killed the few that had aided in removing his jacket and chains. 

“I shall acquire your kingdom, just like I took the Ox’s and the Tiger’s,” San growled. But his fingers encompassed his wrists. He still felt his mortality, clearly.

You tilted your head, cracking your neck loudly. “You just received your godhead, Wolf. I have had mine for a millenia. Do you worst.”

San surged forward with a roar, his warriors behind him like an oncoming wave. The sky crackled and when San’s fist struck, lightning hit the ground around you, several forks striking San’s followers. 

You stood, not moving an inch, your power making a smooth barrier in front of you. San’s face was only a hairsbreadth away from yours but he could do nothing to get closer. Like in slow motion, San’s fist had hit your barrier but the force that was reflected back to him--his own power mixed with your own--sent him flying back, pummeling through the crowd behind him. He hit the wall of your castle hard. Cracks radiated from his form there.

“You will not touch a hair on my head, Choi San,” You said calmly. You flicked your wrists, one hand and then the other. All of San’s followers poofed in a cloud of smoke, a horse’s bellow echoing through the courtyard. It was only you and he left now.

But San’s confidence had not drained yet. He smirked slowly, drawing up only one side of his lips. “I’ll have my fingers tangled up in your hair with your mouth on my cock, Horse God. It is my destiny.”

You laughed under your breath, a smirk pulling at your lips now. You shoved your hands into the pockets of your baggy pants and casually strolled to where San was, still embedded in the stone wall. “Is that why you’re here? To bed me?”

San shook his head, hauling himself out from the hole he made. “No, I am here to take your kingdom and YOUR godhead. But I’ll have you too, while I’m at it.”

You held your arms out to your side, bent at the elbow, palms up. “You know, that’s not half a bad idea, Wolf God.” You bring your palms together. Your purple magic rushed in, surrounding San. His arms snap to his side and his legs are held together. San struggled to get free, his blue flames like an ember along his body, but not strong enough to battle you. “I think I’ll bind you in my dungeon and use your tongue for relief.” You walked to where San was held, using your index finger to raise his strong chin. “Think you could do that for me?”

The blue fire that burned within San’s eyes, within his soul made you excited. Your power exploded and his blue magic exploded from his body. Your hair and clothes moved with the pure, undiluted power radiating from San. “I came here to ruin you!’ He shouted.

You took careful steps back as San staggered forward. His power continued to stream from his body, any sweat steaming off his skin. He walked as if he was underwater but that was simply your own power holding him back. You didn’t even have to make it so, it simply was. San walked you to the front of your tower, grunting and bearing his teeth as his arms shook to cage you between them. You smiled coyly up at him. He wasn’t even aware that his movements were only allowed because you were curious as to what he was up to.

“This isn’t right,” He groaned, his voice low with rawness. His accent had changed, reverting to the language of his people when he was a mortal. 

Your coy smile grew into a confident one, the tips of your lips curling upwards. “Do you feel it, San?”

Your eyes traveled down to his chest, using a finger following the tip of his wolf’s ear on his chest. “Do you feel yourself weakening?”

San’s eyebrows furrowed inwards, both in confusion and worry. “No, I--”

Your smile is now a hysterical grin. “Since the moment you stepped through my gate, my power has been siphoning yours. I’ve been sipping from your godhead. The more power you exude, the more I drink, the more powerful I become. Why do you think I’ve been doing this for so long, hmm?”

San’s eyes become unfocused as he searches deep inside himself and finds that the well of his power is almost dry. “How?!” he demanded in disbelief.

You flicked his nipple and laughed softly. “I’m not about to tell you all my secrets, silly wolf. I’m about to have you trapped in my dungeon.”

“Do-don’t…” San’s head tipped downward to his chest, his weakness finally hitting him as your power began to let him go. If you took away his godhead completely, he would no longer be welcome in this kingdom of the gods. 

You pushed San’s arms away from barring your movement. You flicked your finger again and your power carried San’s body behind you, as you began the climb down to your dungeons. “Don’t worry. You’ll get used to it. Soon, you’ll be just like Seonghwa. A little doggy for me.”

Your power surrounded the entire grounds of your castle, flowing through the very walls, lighting up the surrounding forest and river with purple light, and then just as quickly, your body absorbed it completely and neatly. That was the signal for your people to come back. The battle was over. But your night had just begun.

Taglist: @hijirikaww @flurrys-creativity @mingsolo @starlitmark @stardragongalaxy @k-pop-ology Permanent suffer with me tag: @smallfrye

never knew I needed chan to be pegged, but now I need him to be cuddled and kissed, until he's made to feel as cherished as he DESERVES

「𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚕'𝚜 𝚔𝚒𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚗」 · course iv

❝𝙷𝚎’𝚜 𝚐𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚢 𝚟𝚒𝚎𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚠.❞

WC: 10k (42 min. avg. reading time)

⛔ — Not suitable for readers who might get triggered by rough play and/or themes of sexual deviance. The author chooses not to issue tags for every act to preserve tension and some element of surprise. By clicking "Keep Reading", you accept to proceed at your own risk.

⚠ — Objectifying language, fantasies related to sharing and providing extreme pleasure, use of a fictional aphrodisiac, threesome, spitting, cumplay (lots of it), a lot of breeding talk (see masterlist for more).

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※ This work of fiction is intended for 18+ audiences only.

Chris liked his satin sheets. They absorbed the synthetic breeze of his AC and kept him comfortably cool during scorching summers. He was used to spending his nights alone between them—sometimes basking in the violent delights of his subconscious, sometimes exploring his body afresh fully awake.

But he couldn’t remember a single time where he was this turned on.

At first, he thought it was because of a dream. When he snapped his eyes open, he felt an unusual heaviness on his body and he was sweating. It was natural for him to feel the aftertaste of his dreams on his tongue, but not only could he not remember what he was dreaming about, but the feeling still continued while he was awake.

It was hard to describe what it exactly was. He was hard as a rock. His arousal wouldn’t calm down in the slightest as if he was getting edged for the past hour or so, and there was this unfamiliar feeling right under his shaft. 

He felt penetrated, but not in the way he occasionally indulged in. This was a much much pleasant sensation.

Was that… you?

Was that how you felt when you were snugly wrapped around him? Was that what caused you to let out those maddeningly satisfying sounds of pleasure when he made himself at home inside you? Was that the kind of gratification he was able to provide you? 

Did you have any idea what this was doing to his ego right now?

Maybe this was what it would feel like if you pegged him. Maybe he needed to ask you to do that. Maybe you could give him the most violent orgasm of his life. 

You were like this hypnotizing temptress sent as an answer to all his cries for help. A goddess watching over him, telling him it was okay to commit as many abominations as he wanted as long as he worshipped you. As long as he devoted himself to you. Only you. The texture of your skin was his 3 AM thoughts. The shape of your lips fueled his worst nightmares. Your unmatched appetite for him was how he was going to die. You, you, just you, the sole perpetrator of all the crimes of passion committed against him, and he lived to be your victim.

“Harder,” he quietly mumbled with his eyes closed, “Like you want me to.”

He had never experienced something like this before. He didn’t even have conclusive proof that he was feeling you, but considering his borderline monomaniacal interest in you, it just could not be anyone else, he was sure of it. Were you dreaming this or were you actively pleasuring yourself right at that second? Or were you fucking yourself to him, or were you with someone else?

What if you were with someone else? 

Who the fuck was this person? Why would you even feel the need for another person when he existed? Your chemistry was off the charts; he could give you anything you could ask for, then why the fuck—?

Did you want him to know there was another person? Were you after making him want you even more? Drive him up a wall? Go crazier about you? Because it was working.

What if there was someone else, though? What if Chris watched this person’s laughable attempt to give you pleasure and the resultant miserable failure, then took over to show them how to properly satisfy you? What if the way you fucked each other was so damn hot that this waste of oxygen couldn’t help masturbating to how you consumed one another? What if you told Chris you fucking loved it when he got jealous over you? What if you told him you were so glad he existed and that he could have you anytime he wanted if he was going to fuck you like this every time? He would. He would. He could give you so much more, just say the word. He would even be willing to share you with someone just to fucking put them in their place. It would be so much fun to humiliate them together with you. Pathetic. Pitiful. Who the fuck were they to even think they had a chance with you? You belonged to him. You were his goddess. He was the only one who could read your beautifully sick mind, and you could rewrite a much more lethal bad romance together.

“Oh fuck, you’re killing me, beautiful.”

Chris wasn’t even touching himself. He rested his arms under his nape and treated this like he was getting his dick sucked. Thinking of you. Of your voice. Of your taste. Of the most obscene memories he had of you. The time you told him all your unhinged thoughts about him. The time you told him he owned your body. 

The time you told him to defile you. 

All of a sudden, he felt a tidal wave rising in the pit of his stomach, forcing him to arch in his bed, his cum gushing from his cock and staining all over his abdomen. Without a single touch. Just the ghost of you, haunting him.

But it wasn’t enough.

How could it be enough? How could he make do with what might have happened when he damn well knew what could happen given the agreement you had recently made?

Just don’t expect me to come to your place in the middle of the night when the craving hits. Then I don’t come to you, you come to me. If you can bring your ass to my place, I’m yours.

You had said it yourself. You shouldn’t have said it if you weren’t going to honor it. This wasn’t on him; this was your doing.

He didn’t even check what time it was before jumping from his bed for a quick shower and darting to his car with urgent steps. The second he started the engine, he found your name on his dashboard and pressed the green receiver icon next to it. It rang once. Twice. Thrice. Your dazed voice echoed in the car right before the fourth time.

“Chris?”

“Wake up if you’re sleeping,” he demanded with an impatient voice, “I’m on my way.”

Then he hung up and hit the gas pedal harder.

Only ten minutes later, he was parked right in front of your building, considering whether it would be faster if he ran up twelve floors worth of stairs. He didn’t want to wait, but he so didn’t want to wait to catch his breath once you opened that door. There was not even one second to waste.

“You say I’m horny, but I beg to differ,” you welcomed him with an entertained smile, “It’s 4 AM, Chris.”

“Shut up and sit on me,” he took off his jacket while crossing the threshold of your apartment with rushed steps, “I wanna fuck you raw without stretching you.”

“Then say you need me.”

“I need you,” he cupped your face and gritted his teeth, “I never not need your body. Fuck!”

Your lips immediately clashed against one another, and the amount of violence in that kiss was quite telling of what was about to follow. You dragged him to your bedroom while walking backwards with your lips glued together, hastily taking off everything that covered each other’s body and creating a messy trail made of garments out in the hallway.

“Didn’t even bother tidying up,” he snickered once he saw the large dildo laying on your nightstand, “Did I interrupt your self-care time?”

“You stopped by just in time actually,” you responded while spreading your legs for him, “I think I may have manifested you here.”

“Yeah?” he broke into a bigger smile while aligning himself with you, extremely content with your answer, “Were you thinking about me?”

“I’m never not thinking about you when I fuck myself,” you put your hands on his waist, “Do a better job. Fuck me to sleep.”

And that was the last straw. 

Chris didn’t even look for some lube, not that he needed much anyway. Your cunt was wet enough from edging yourself for the past hour or so. He rammed his cock into you so hard as if you were starving him, as if he hadn’t been visiting your apartment lately in gradually more frequent intervals. This. This feeling was his fix, better than the purest cocaine he could get his hands on, and you were his sole plug. In return, you always felt much fuller with him inside you than trying to substitute him with some synthetic counterpart. As the name suggested, it was synthetic. Nothing compared to the feeling of Chris throbbing inside you when you told him to go harder. Go faster. Use you as he wanted.

“Shit, cumming,” he squeezed his eyes shut, “I’m fucking cumming. Clench!”

He shot his full load on the deepest spot he could reach, fucking all the drops of cum on the shallow end of you further just to make sure they stayed where they belonged. He rode the waves of his orgasm pulling out of you until just his tip was in, then completely disappearing into you again, thrusts never losing their sharpness one bit.

“Thank you,” you flashed him a tired and utterly fucked out smile. He smiled back. Then left as quickly as he arrived.

Chris never stayed. He wouldn't be able to even if he wanted to. That was the rule.

You wondered how hard you would need to fuck him until he was too tired to leave.

The next morning went by uneventfully. The usual buzz of the kitchen served as white noise to keep everyone focused on their tasks for dinner service. Chopping, grating, kneading…  Microsurgical precision even during prep because otherwise you would besmirch the good name of Wolfgang and how fucking dare you?

Came the lunch break, Minho and Robin walked into the kitchen with a special dessert in their hands. You knew what that was because Robin only made it for special occasions, and it befuddled the crap out of you because you hadn’t told a soul about your birthday.

“How’d you guys know?!”

“Employee records,” Minho satisfied your curiosity momentarily, “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Whatever’s going to get me the Alfred cheesecake. Thank you guys so much!”

You blew out the single candle and hugged everyone one by one. Minho was the one to hug you last. His cologne smelled so pleasant on your nostrils, and unless you were fucking delusional, it felt like he stole a whiff from your neck himself.

“Chef is asking for you,” he informed you before you could overanalyze anything, “If he rides you hard, you tell me.”

He had no idea of the absolute double entendre his words carried, so you pushed your internal wheezing down as much as you could. 

“I’ll make sure to show you where the bullies are,” you smiled at him and left the kitchen.

One interesting detail to note as you were climbing the stairs that led to Chris’ office was that when you stood in front of his door to announce your arrival, you were a little nervous for some reason.

“You asked for me?”

“Come in,” he beckoned you over, and continued after you closed the door behind you, “I heard it was actually the first hours of your birthday last night when I came by.”

“Duh, you should have known. It’s called a birthday suit for a reason.” 

He let out an amused chuckle while reclining in his chair. His features seemed a little softer than usual, but it could very well have been an optical illusion because of his dimples.

“I wanted to properly wish you a happy birthday.”

“Thank you.”

“Sit.”

You moved towards the couch in front of his desk, but he stopped you halfway through.

“No,” he tapped on his desk with two of his fingers, “I said sit.”

You held his gaze for a couple of seconds, but it felt like half an hour. It was surely unexpected for him to initiate anything at his shrine as he called it, but there he was, telling you to sit on his desk. Right in front of him. On his eye level. You approached him with slow steps and settled on the spot he guided you to.

“It’s lunch break,” he stated the obvious fact, “Time to eat.”

It was mindblowing how Chris could be nonstop horny like a college freshman who was a virgin until very recently, but you actually liked it. No, you loved how eager he was. How much he seemed to want you. You loved being the object of his desires.

“Aren’t you going to stop me?” he asked while pulling himself close to you.

“Why would I?” you nonchalantly responded, “Have you ever blown yourself? Those lips make me wanna murder someone.”

“What if someone comes in?” he started undoing the buttons of your pants and dragged your zipper down.

“Maybe I like the risk.”

“What if they report it?” he slid your pants down your legs.

“Then it’s your problem. I’m just following the orders of my boss.”

“You don’t think I’m being a creep?”

“You would be if I wasn’t this into you. I think you’re just being a tease right now.”

Chris loved any indication of how sexy you found him. He never got tired of hearing this, and he was never going to. 

“So you’re into me,” he slowly got rid of your underwear, “How much?”

You spread your legs wide as a response to show him how wet you were. How much he liked the view was apparent in the depth of the sigh he let out.

“I’m quite into you, myself. A lot, actually,” he held your gaze intently, “Wanna see exactly how much?”

You gnawed on your bottom lip and nodded. Chris brought his beautiful face closer to your heat almost in slow motion and finally finally closed his luscious lips on your glazed folds, causing you to exhale deeply. 

“Up. Down. Up. Suck. A little more. Now swirl. Fuck, just like that.”

Combined with his leftover thoughts from the night before, the way you were guiding him sparked an idea in his mind. What if he was the one giving these commands? 

But to someone else.

What if he told a third party what to do to you? What if he watched another guy have his way with you? Just so he could hear how much better he knew you, he fucked you, he pleasured you. What if they had you cater to them, then pleasured you until you passed out as a thank you?

It drove him insane.

Chris followed all your instructions to a T, extracting all your essence out of you shortly after. He particularly enjoyed how you were caressing his hair when you were cumming in his mouth.

“I need to eat too, you know,” you spoke once you managed to come to your senses, and it elicited a silky chortle from him.

“Shit you call ‘girl dinner’ nowadays I swear…”

“Wanna switch places or do you want me to kneel?”

“I like it when you kneel for me,” he ran his fingers through your hair, then allowed you to descend between his legs and nestle there.

His erection was already pressing hard against his pants, impatiently waiting to be set free. You took his pants off and spread his legs wide, trying not to drool at how hard he was for you. It was like he was getting more gorgeous every time you saw him. You teased his tip the way he liked it, slowly dragging your tongue on the sensitive skin, and softly kissing along his girth.

“I can’t stop thinking about fucking you. I have a problem,” he caressed your cheek with his thumb, “You just breathe in my general direction and I get rock hard.”

This. The talk. He knew the exact right things to say to spur you on. It could have been pretend, but you didn’t care one bit. It always made you want to please him more. You licked, and licked, and licked, then took him deep down your throat.

“God, I so wish we were in my bed right now,” Chris quietly whimpered at the intense sensation, throwing his head back, “You look so beautiful like that, I kinda wanna give you a cumshot.”

You hummed at the mental image, and he melted. You were fucking perfect around his cock as if your mouth was made to suck him off. So that he could empty his balls there whenever he wanted. You sighed deeply, and he felt the pressure building right below his abdomen.

“Get up. I’m cumming inside.”

He quickly sat you down on his desk again, and disappeared into you, holding you in place from your waist as he was drilling you hard. Then he exposed your neck to give you the sloppy kisses he always did, but he smelled something unusual but very familiar already laced there.

Minho’s cologne.

“Thoughts on knotting, baby girl?” his thrusts got way sharper all of a sudden as if he wanted you to alert the people in the vicinity.

“If you can somehow manage to do it, I’m super down,” your fingers slithered towards his nape to hold on tighter.

“Who else? You know your pussy is mine to breed.”

Chris could feel something boiling inside him. He wasn’t mad at you per se, but he was mad nevertheless. The thoughts riddling his mind were getting out of control already, and the existence of this scent on you surely didn’t help calm him the fuck down. He was going to say it. He was going to risk it all and say it. If you asked what the hell the matter was with him, he could just say it was a spur of the moment thing and that he didn’t mean it.

“Though I wouldn’t mind watching someone else fuck you.”

His words pressed a button in your brain, and you remembered your very first dream about Chris. In his crisp suit, sprawled on a couch, sipping on some expensive scotch while watching you get devoured. He would listen to you moan. He would get hard to your screams of pleasure. He would stroke himself to your sight maybe. Maybe he would cum. Maybe he would ask you to swallow even.

You clenched.

“You– You wanna share me with someone?”

“Not share, per se, I just wanna see them try. To prove no one can make you feel the way I do.”

“That’s so damn cocky even by your standards,” you sneered, “but I kinda wanna see how you can claim me back.”

Oh, good fucking god, you liked this.

He started going faster. You pressed your palm against your mouth to stop yourself from making loud noises until you got used to the new rhythm.

“You’ll wait for me to say your name when some guy fucks the wits out of me, but I just won’t,” you spat through your teeth, “You’ll regret ever inviting a third person when you could have all of this to yourself.”

“See the best part about fucking you is not even cumming. It’s how fucking dirty you are. It’s the ride,” he briefly stopped to wrap your legs around his waist, “It’s the best fucking thrill ride I’ve ever been on.”

His fingertips were sinking into your ass, and he found that soft, spongy spot inside you that he loved so much. He was getting close.

“I kinda wanna make you pass out from pleasure, but keep fucking you. You’ll come to your senses with your pussy in my mouth. Then we’re fucking again,” he tangled his fingers in your hair, “What are you doing Saturday, baby girl?”

“Thinking of a birthday party. Wanna come?”

“Cancel it. You’re fucking me.”

He pulled on your hair at the last word and started dashing to his finish line. When you bit into his neck, it sizzled so good that he erupted inside you as if you threw a molotov cocktail into a tank of gasoline. You let him spill every last drop and rest his head on your shoulder until he came down from his high.

“Did you mean it? When you said…” he hesitated, but he needed an actual answer, “About someone else?”

“I mean, depends,” you responded while putting your clothes back on, “I need to know for sure they are discreet.”

The scent of the cologne that didn’t belong to him was all Chris could think about. Discreet. So as long as it was discreet it was okay with you?

One look at his metaphorical chips, and Chris decided to go all in.

“What if I know just the person?”

You had some memorably wild birthdays back in the day, but none of them required any negotiation beforehand. In your defense, you also never had a boss with benefits in possession of an inhumanely high libido.

The plan sounded simple, ‘sounded’ being the operative word. You were initially apprehensive about how this could potentially turn out awkward after the fact, but Chris reassured you on that front with how much he trusted this person. He had offered to be the middle man of communication so that everybody was aware of the mutually agreed upon ground rules prior to your meeting.

“So what do you have in mind?”

“You’ll get a free pass. Whatever you desire, we oblige, but on one condition,” Chris explained to you, “He can’t do anything I haven’t done to you before. Nor can you do anything to him you haven’t done to me.”

“Say I wanna peg him?”

“No one’s stopping you. You’re just pegging me first.”

“It’s my birthday, but this sounds like you have the ropes still,” you cocked a brow.

“Oh, I do, don’t I?” he faked an epiphany, then broke into a mischievous smile, “Would you look at that?”

Thus the reason why you felt like you were on your way to some set on Saturday night.

One interesting suggestion had come from your guest for the night. Were you to accept it, he recommended ingesting a substance called ‘24K’, popularly known as liquid gold, to heighten the experience.

“What does it do? Get us high?”

“Not in the way you think,” Chris clarified, “It’s an actual aphrodisiac used in some rare recipes with strict dosage restrictions. It will kick up your sex drive, and your senses will also be much more sensitive.”

“And that doesn’t sound like a hallucinogen to you?”

“Does it really matter what it sounds like as long as it feels like you’re getting gangbanged when I eat your pussy?” he smirked, but continued more seriously, “Joking aside I would say an unequivocal no if I didn’t know what it was. The decision is yours.”

You weren’t really sure if the decision you made was the right one, but you were excited about it.

The meeting location was decided as Chris’ place. Up until now, it was always him coming over to your apartment, which wasn’t a deliberate thing to prevent you from coming over or anything—he just visited so frequently that you didn’t feel the need to change venues, so this was going to be your first time seeing his habitat in the flesh. The building was very much on par with what you allowed yourself to imagine when you saw his address—a luxury condominium with a hotelesque high-ceiling lobby, extremely polite staff, and a handful of people who you assumed to be occupants walking around looking like they were cast to be there. Yes, that good looking.

“Right away, sir,” the model-like gentleman that welcomed you quietly hung up the phone, and swiped a tiny envelope with the building logo embossed across the granite counter, “Here’s your one-time code, miss.”

“A code?” you looked at him questioningly.

“Yes, to operate the elevator since it directly goes up to Mr. Bang’s residence,” he confirmed, “It’s on the top floor.”

A penthouse. Why were you even surprised in the first place?

You did know about Chris’ fame, of course, but you had to admit how foreign it felt for a second there. In reality, he was so unreachable that people needed one-time codes to cross the threshold of his privacy. Meanwhile, you had gotten so used to his presence that he had stopped being Chef Bang to you some time ago—he was just regular Chris, albeit still quite extraordinary. You could be so full of yourself for thinking this, but the amount of comfort you shared with each other seemed like something special. Special to the extent that it made you smile so big when you opened the envelope to enter the four-digit code into the elevator keypad.

Your birthday.

When the elevator doors opened again, you found yourself in a short, carpet-clad hallway with dark beige walls and warm white lighting, a single heavy-looking brown pivot door looking right at you. Once you pressed on the doorbell, everything suddenly felt so real that you got nervous. The door opened with a muffled clank, and you immediately questioned the reality you were experiencing because hot—fucking—damn!

“Hey, beautiful.”

Not that he wasn’t already criminally attractive on a weekday, but Chris looked ultra fine that night. Skin-tight pants, jet black blazer, and of course the silver chains. Good god, the chains. Not the chains…

You knew this exact fit from some dark bedroom with velvet walls.

He took a small vial from his pocket that harbored some ambery liquid in it, then sucked some into the dropper in the cap.

“Entry ticket. Stick your tongue out for me.”

Three drops fell on your tongue. Thick density, savory, quickly spread on your palate but didn’t necessarily invade the tastebuds. 

“Syrupy,” you observed after swallowing, “I really like the taste. What’s in this?”

“You’re a trained chef. Can’t you tell?” 

“I meant besides the obvious honey,” you deadpanned.

“What else?”

You swiped your tongue on your palate, then exhaled with your mouth closed to run the flavor in your mouth again.

“I’m inclined to say… saffron?”

“Good job,” a smirk stained his lips, “Five points to Slytherin.”

You stuck your tongue out again to get your well-deserved reward, but the two drops of liquid gold were followed by a 24K kiss from Chris. Wetter and a lot hungrier than usual as if it was possible. It caught you off guard, but you had absolutely no complaints.

“What was that for?”

“A little pre-game treat for me,” he held the tip of your chin, “You look ravishing tonight. I couldn’t help myself.”

“Did you have any of this before my arrival by any chance?” you pointed at the glowing vial in his hand.

“Maybe,” he confessed then led you inside by gently pushing on your waist, “But then again you get me so fucking horny on the regular that I can’t really tell the difference.”

Your eyes were scanning every piece of detail they could perceive as you walked behind him. Chris’ place felt like a breath of fresh air. Spacious, for sure, but also unexpectedly cozy with the warm lights cast on different shades of beiges and browns and khaki greens contrasted by dark anthracites of his kitchen which even had a 50-bottle wine cellar next to his gigantic fridge. Modern architecture with moderner furniture, simplistic but tasteful decorations all around, and a magnificent view of the city sprawled right under your feet flaunted through the large curtainless windows.

Then you took one step into the living room area, and it kicked in.

You felt like you were being enveloped by something warm. The colors became even warmer and more vivid. For some reason, you felt like you were glowing and you felt fucking amazing.

“Damn, why didn’t you tell me there was a dress code for tonight?” you asked Chris while looking at the man sprawled on the couch.

Equally sharply dressed, equally cocky posture, sporting his long, wavy hair with several stray locks falling in front of his eyes. It was the first time you were seeing him like this rather than his usual clean-cut look at work.

Minho looked nothing short of a charming player.

“The princess of the night finally arrives!” he raised the scotch glass in his hand, “Happy birthday, your grace.”

“Princess?” Chris scoffed a bit too empathetically, “She’s a fucking demon.”

“Be nice, it’s my birthday,” you settled down on the empty seat to Minho’s left and reached for the drink Chris poured for you, “but yeah I kinda am.”

“Have you decided on your course for tonight?” Chris asked from the armchair he threw himself on, diagonal to you.

“I think I’m in the mood to have two guys worship me.”

“By all means. It’s time we got a baptism from some goddess anyway.”

“Baptism with cum and spit,” you retorted and took a sip from the icy amber liquid, “That’s new.”

“I’d be careful with the liberal use of the word cum,” Minho warned you and pointed at Chris with a nod, “His fangs come out whenever it’s mentioned.”

“I see. So we’re doing exposés on each other,” Chris raised his brows and crossed his legs, “This dude right here likes it too much when he hears praise. Give it a go.”

You turned to your left and scanned Minho from head to toe. He looked unfazed, but you could see how his shoulders were tensed up.

“Have I ever told you how gorgeous you are?” you fixated your eyes on his chest, then looked right into his eyes, “You work out?”

“I do.”

“I love thick thighs in a man,” you caressed his inner thigh, and in return, he not so discreetly throbbed in his pants.

“And I love women who love thick thighs,” he brazenly ogled your breasts.

“Men lose it when you ride their thighs,” you dragged your hand down his leg, “And I like it when they get weak for me.”

“You know when they also lose it?” he sat up in his place and wet his lips with a single drag of his tongue, “When you have a sloppy as fuck make out session with their balls.”

“Duly noted.”

Interesting. Kissing was a simple act, but it was like a fingerprint for how differently each person executed it. When Chris kissed you, you felt your soul being set on fire. It was loaded with lethal amounts of passion and lust, and it made you wanna stop living for yourself and start living to please him instead.

Minho was much calmer. He kissed deep, somewhat slow, not touching anywhere else on your body other than your face, allowing just a kiss to do its job to seduce the fuck out of you. His lips were so full in your mouth, immediately making you wonder what they would feel like on more secluded parts of you. You liked the muted hums he let out as he swirled his tongue around yours, and they increased in volume by just a tinge when you palmed his bulge straining his pants.

“So?” Chris asked, trying not to make it too obvious how turned on he was by the sight, “Which kiss did you enjoy more?”

“Am I allowed to say it’s him?” you looked at him with hooded eyes.

“You are, but what you’re not allowed to do is lie,” he pointed at you, “And that is one.”

“Take the L like a champ, man. Don’t be a sore loser,” Minho quipped, very content with the answer you delivered.

You didn’t take your eyes off Chris as your smirk got wider, and he reciprocated, but you had learned to render the shades of anger that occasionally flashed in his eyes.

Oh, this was gonna be so much fun, wasn’t it?

“You talked a big game about how she tastes,” Minho caressed your back, “I wanna see it for myself.”

“You should. It’s pretty damn delicious,” Chris got up to his feet to lead you both to an even more restricted area, “but don’t make a habit of it if you want to live.”

His possessiveness was internally making you scream your lungs out. Oh, he knew. He knew what he was doing to you. He knew one good kiss was not enough to swipe you off your feet and he loved shoving that right in front of Minho’s face.

It was weirdly wholesome actually. Dare you said even a fucked up love language. 

If you walked into this bedroom without knowing who it belonged to, you would still be able to pick it out as Chris’. A massive bed dressed in black satin sheets overlooking the flickering lights coming from the pier, a huge framed picture of a full moon right above the headboard, dark grays and off-whites all around but by no means bleak. Ironically enough, this room somehow exuded the peacefulness of a safe haven.

“Any accessories you want?” Chris turned on the lights and dimmed them to a sultry lumen, “Blindfolds, cuffs, toys?”

“No, just you,” you responded as you stood by the edge of his bed, “and all the lube you have.”

You. As in second person plural. Chris knew that of course, but he didn’t give a fuck. You did say just you. Nothing else.

He had to take a deep breath to fucking stop himself from jumping you.

He took a couple of steps towards you and brushed his fingers on your collarbones first, then peeled your top off. As he took your lips between his, you unbuttoned his blazer and cascaded it down his shoulders to put his perfect figure on display. Then you felt Minho right behind you unclasping your bra and exposing your chest fully.

“Oh, they feel so full,” Chris noted while fondling your breasts, “Are you ovulating? Are we finally gonna breed you today?”

You hated how he knew what to say to get you to throb that hard.

“Take off her clothes,” he commanded Minho while unbuttoning his pants, “Then get between her legs.”

As Chris was getting rid of his own clothes, you let Minho strip you bare, then threw yourself right in the middle of Chris’ insanely comfortable bed. After getting fully naked, Minho crawled between your legs and kissed your thighs, awaiting his directions from Chris who was cuddling you on your right. The familiar vial made another appearance, and the drops of the golden-colored liquid felt cold on your pussy. Satisfied with how it dissolved into your own slick, Chris firmly demanded.

“Eat.”

Minho’s mouth on your cunt was pure heaven. Your eyes immediately closed when he licked a long stripe, and it was the perfect pairing to Chris kissing all over your neck. 

“I like it wet,” you didn’t wait long before telling Minho exactly what you wanted from him, “Lick all over me.”

While Minho was busy pleasuring you just the way you liked, Chris kept paying attention to your upper body, touching you, kissing you, licking the salt off your skin and replacing it with his own. The wetness you felt all over you amplified threefold courtesy of some saffron extract, and even just looking at these stunning men working you was enough for you to have a violent visceral reaction.

“God, yes, just like that. Now suck on my clit,” you directed Minho further.

You tugged on Chris’ locks to make him look at you and pulled him in for a kiss he so desperately was waiting for. You were trying to make a point with how deep you were kissing him, but you weren’t exactly sure if it was reaching him at all.

“Your pussy eating skills are as fantastic as your thighs after all,” you turned your attention to Minho again, “You’re fucking perfect.”

Hearing you praise his performance like that, he got even more eager, burying his face deeper into your cunt.

“If Chris lets you come play, come sit on my bar sometime,” Minho licked his lips and spread your pussy lips further apart, “You taste fucking incredible.”

“Well, she can’t. She has prior engagements,” Chris answered on your behalf, “Don’t you, baby girl?”

You involuntarily laughed, and Chris kissed your smile away, getting your lips raw from how much he was coating them in lust.

“You’re gorgeous. You’re a goddess. You’re so fucking beautiful,” he whispered into your ear, “Can I make it feel even better for you? Do I have permission?”

You nodded eagerly, not knowing what to expect in the slightest. The warmth on your right side was gone. When you opened your eyes, you saw Chris crawling between your legs right next to Minho, and it made you shiver.

“You take her clit,” he casually instructed, “I have an unhealthy attachment to her cum.”

You watched them take their positions, and even though you were about to implode from this sight alone, you managed to stitch some words together.

“Lick it spotless.”

“Paradoxical,” Chris uttered with an unamused expression, “You need to stop dripping first.”

You could feel everything. 

A pair of tongues gliding on you. So wet. So fucking obscenely wet. Minho’s tongue was on your clit, teasing it with the very tip whereas Chris was licking into your oozing hole, gently prodding your entrance with his flattened tongue and fucking into it every once in a while. Getting showered with slippery attention by two insanely gorgeous men ready to cater to your every whim made you feel like a queen, and you were about to have the most egocentric orgasm of your life.

“Chris,” you convulsed under their intense ministrations, “Come– Come up.”

He was surprised to be the one you called out to, but he pulled himself up right next to you again.

“Caress me,” you put his hands on your body, “Please.”

Please. He was pretty sure you didn’t know about the weight this particular word carried.

Please. Or maybe you did, and you were doing it on purpose again.

Please. Give him one reason not to worship the floor you walk on.

He ran his hands all over you with his lips glued to yours, kissing you, licking you while Minho was on the fast track to make you snap. When you felt your orgasm threatening to unleash, you grabbed Chris’ face and inhaled his lips, your moans rippling throughout his body. He didn’t let go until your body went limp, soaked in the afterglow languor, not having an ounce of strength to hold onto anything anymore.

“He did good, yeah?” he caressed your face and nodded for confirmation, “Shall we return the favor?”

You hummed a fucked out yes, and he gestured for Minho to get on his knees.

“I’ve always wondered what it would be like to dive into my girl’s freshly fucked pussy,” Chris broke goosebumps all over your body with the single finger he dragged down your shoulder, “He’s going to fuck you for my viewing pleasure now.”

You momentarily found yourself in his arms, back flushed against his chest, as Minho settled between your legs, awaiting his instructions.

“I want her pussy properly stretched. Soaking wet. Walls throbbing. You’re not going to pull out. Fill her up for me,” he firmly ordered then placed a kiss on your shoulder, “Then I’ll come take what’s mine. Fuck it deeper to make room for myself. We’ll see who makes you feel better.”

As Chris started leaving open mouth kisses on your neck, you watched Minho take position, and you noticed him for the first time. Full girth and mouthwatering curvature, and it reminded you of one of the massagers you owned. There was more than enough slick covering your cunt, but you were still struggling to take him, and judging by the extremely satisfied look on his face, he fucking loved it. It was so obvious that your sounds of mild discomfort were stroking his ego big time, and he didn’t even try to be subtle about it. When he finally managed to sink into you, you felt so full that your eyes rolled all the way back.

“We can do this day and night if you can take it,” he squeezed your legs as he bottomed out, “Let’s ride, princess.”

Minho was off to a great start. His rhythm was like a pulse with sharp thrusts of his hips deep into you. He was after enjoying himself first, relishing this maddening pleasure buried inside you before setting off to look for a spot to make you see white.

“He needs visual stimulants, too, don’t you reckon?” Chris turned your face to him, “Make out with me.”

He wasn’t simply kissing you at this point. It was so loaded with want and hunger that it felt more like a respiratory exchange. Too much sighing, short-lived moans, and wet, wet, just so wet, coating each other with as much bodily fluids as you possibly could. You had a raging suspicion that Chris was after making you regret not openly declaring his kiss as your favorite. 

Minho, on the other hand, was in no rush fucking you. He was just savoring this, savoring the indecently salacious view in front of him, which felt like he got to fuck the star of a hot porn clip he stumbled upon in real time.

“You’re doing great, baby girl. I’m so fucking proud of you,” Chris kissed your shoulder again and cupped your breasts, “Feels good, right?”

All you could produce was incoherent sounds. A simple touch on your body was magnifying to the extent that you could feel it everywhere, so you couldn’t even utter your own name if he asked you right now. You remembered how to nod in between your moans.

“But it should feel great,” he uttered emphatically to Minho, “It should feel so fucking good I need her to cry.”

When his name was uttered again, you opened your eyes to take Minho’s sight in. He was a goddamn beast. So damn gorgeous all around and he was fucking you good. How you couldn’t even properly open your eyes was telling enough of what a good job he was doing.

“Swollen as fuck,” he swiped his thumb on your clit, and looked right at Chris with a sly smile, “I have a great idea. You know what it is.”

“Should I lick it when he’s fucking you?” Chris asked in your ear with a soothing voice, and you almost combusted to his words alone.

“YES!”

“Tsk, rude, baby girl. What do we say when we really want something?”

Say it again, he was repeating inside, Again. Beg. Beg for me.

“Please, Chris—topher,” you adjusted the end of your address properly, and the fact that you remembered flew him over the moon.

Chris didn’t rush to leave your side. He started his ministrations by softly caressing your clit like he was petting you as Minho kept a steady, endurable pace. 

“Look at me when he fucks you,” he demanded, getting his fingers properly wet in your mouth, “Eyes on me.”

Give me attention. I want to be the only thing you lust after. Want me. Want me. Want me. Give me special privileges in front of him. Show him I matter more to you because you want to please me.

He started drawing circles on your cunt with his now slippery fingers without any pressure. The idea was to make you melt into him, but the way you jolted when he touched you ignited something wild in him.

“Did you know your body screams my name?” he whispered into your ear in a volume only you could hear, “You’re getting fucked this hard, but you’re still shuddering when I touch you.”

He stopped his strokes and gestured Minho to stop and take a breather while sliding away from under you and laying you down on your back. Then he lowered his face on your pussy as Minho took position again.

He timed himself so that his first lick would align perfectly with Minho’s first push. The pleasure running laps throughout your entire bloodstream was so concentrated that you couldn’t dare open your eyes. But it wasn’t just about how intense the feeling was.

It was the fact that this had turned into a race of who could get you there faster, and you were dissolving in the amount of attention they were subjecting you to.

“Overwhelmed?” Chris chuckled teasingly after a while, “Feels too good?”

Their movements gradually came to a halt to give you some rest since you actually looked like you could pass out. Minho made creative use of the lube on the nightstand to rub the soreness away from your legs while Chris climbed up to your right side and started stroking your hair, showering you with kisses on your forehead, your temple, and face to soothe you to the best of his ability.

If you didn’t know any better, you would be inclined to say he was almost making love to you.

“We just get each other, don’t we? We understand each other better than anyone else,” Chris softly spoke when your breathing returned to normal, then nodded at Minho to carry on, “I know you’re dying to take both of us right now. You can say it. Min’s not one to judge.”

Minho was probably expecting you to get embarrassed or something. When your eyes met his, you bit into your bottom lip so hard and you unwittingly snickered at each other.

“The question is can your tight cunt really take it? You can barely take me as it is,” he dragged his fingers from your chest down to your abdomen and fixated his gaze on Minho with an absolutely sinister smile, “And he’s quite endowed himself, right?”

Minho twitched so hard inside you that it was impossible not to notice. You took one look at Chris and you could feel your brainwaves syncing to concoct a quick little plan to gang up on Minho.

“He’s a fucking beast. Just look at this gorgeous body,” you put your hands on his waist and slid them down, “And his thighs, god, they’re so fucking juicy I wanna take a bite.”

“So you like his performance,” he threw his arm over your shoulder, “Why don’t you give him a review?”

“I know what you’re trying to do,” Minho warned Chris through his teeth, “Stop it.”

Neither of you was intimidated by his pseudo-threat. Not one bit. You leaned into Chris more and started praising the shit out of Minho with a shit eating grin on your face.

“Ravages pussy like he should, A+ tongue game, god tier stamina, and fucks like an unhinged maniac.”

“Stop it.”

“You’re insanely sexy, Minho. You’re so my type, I fucking love it.” 

“I said stop it.”

“Makes me wanna take you up my ass right fucking now.”

“OH, FUCK YOU!!!”

Heck, you enjoyed hearing praise during sex yourself. It was a great mood setter when used correctly, but that was about it for you. Witnessing someone so weak for compliments to the extent that they would cum this violently was a first and boundlessly entertaining to watch. Once Minho managed to come back to his senses, he reverted back to his no fucks given attitude and made himself comfortable on your left, trading places with Chris. You were a little sore, but Chris had been waiting long enough for his turn. He drenched you in lube and slid right in to pick up where Minho left off.

He felt electrified all of a sudden.

“Damn, your load is a bit heavy, huh Min?”

“Demon princess here got me a little worked up,” Minho chuckled, still wiping sweat off his forehead, “I have no fucking idea how you can stop yourself from cumming every five seconds with her around.”

“Who says I can?”

Chris could actually feel Minho’s cum inside you. Volume so dense that it felt like he was dipping himself in an entire bottle of lubricant. It was turning him on way too much that he couldn’t even control how loudly he was groaning. Only a couple of pumps in, he put his initial plan on hold and pulled out of you.

“Look how much you made him cum,” he showed you the thick white liquid glazing his cock and dripping off his tip, “I wanna watch you suck him off of me.”

The sight topped the chart of the dirtiest yet most erotic things you’d ever seen, easy, and it was making you salivate. You promptly got on fours before him once he laid down, not even caring about teasing him like you usually would. You straight up choked on him.

“God fucking damn, taking me that deep without being asked. Just how fucking fantastic are you?”

As you were devouring Chris, you felt some movement behind you, and shortly after Minho’s face was between your legs again, about to taste you from scratch one more time.

“Her clit only,” Chris urged in panic, “The cum stays in.”

Then Minho began munching on your tingling clit. He was pushing you down on his face from your hips, and there was no way for you to escape his death grip. You were writhing in how unendurable the overstimulation quickly became, but your whimpering on Chris’ cock was sending shockwaves of pleasure throughout his body.

“Look at what he’s doing to himself while eating your creampied pussy,” he broke into a delirious smile, “Ride his face for me. Make him suck on your clit harder.”

When you looked back, you witnessed Minho lazily stroking his cock with one hand, making happy little sounds into your pussy in the meantime as if he was tasting the rarest delicacy that ever existed. Thinking about how you were still filled with Minho’s cum and watching you blow him like your life depended on it riled Chris up too much too fast. There was no way he could hold back any longer.

“Yes. Fucking yes, milk it out of me. God, I’m gonna soak you in cum,” he swiftly sat up straight and started pumping himself frantically, “Stick your tongue out.”

Chris was already feeling like he was being edged for the longest time, watching Minho fuck you into his own bed and devouring your pussy. The second his eyes landed on your tongue, strings of his warm seed spurted all over your face and glazed your skin deliciously.

“Clean her face,” he instructed Minho while descending between your legs just to eat your creampied pussy for his own pleasure, “Spotless.”

Without having him say it twice, Minho laid down beside you and prompted you to close your eyes by brushing his fingers on your eyelids. Deprived of your sight, you felt the pair of wet muscles gliding on you even more profoundly, one on your folds and the other on your face ridding you of any trace of cum. You didn’t know what exactly took over you when Minho licked a clean stripe on your cheek, but you grabbed his hands to steal his attention.

“Let’s share.”

It wasn’t a request per se; you just informed him that you were going to do it. 

And when Chris caught a glimpse of what you were doing, he felt like his entire body got shocked.

You asked Minho to share his taste with you. Strike one. You were sucking on the coat of cum on Minho’s tongue so hungrily like you were starved for days. Strike two.

Then you swiped your fingers on your cheekbone to collect some of his cum and dared to start rubbing your clit with it as your personal lubricant.

Chris fucking lost it. 

It was most likely a byproduct of liquid gold, but he still couldn’t believe how fast he recuperated to get fully hard again. He started following the rhythm you liked so much before he took what he needed from you.

Up. Down. Up. Suck. A little more. Now swirl. Swirl. Swirl!

You moaned loudly into Minho’s mouth, properly dizzy and most likely out of any more orgasms to have by then. He soothed you with kisses on your face as you rode out your high on Chris’ mouth.

“You know what would make you taste even sweeter?” he wiped his lips with the back of his hand, “Double frosting.”

Through your almost blurry vision, you saw Chris getting on his knees and aligning himself with your throbbing entrance, too conveniently slippery for him to slide right in.

“Open up.”

He dragged your bottom lip down to prompt you to open your mouth, and then you felt a trail of saliva landing on your tongue. Out of everything Chris did the entire night, oddly enough, this one felt like his most possessive move.

“Jerk him off for me. Let’s get your tits creamed, too,” he declared his final request of the night, then addressed Minho, “And you know what you need to do.”

Minho positioned himself so he could lick your clit while allowing you to stroke him comfortably. Chris’ eyes on you were a bit intense as if he was trying to tell you something, but you weren’t in possession of any reasoning anymore to decode what it was. You just focused on his breathing instead. How it escalated as his pace got faster. How he got two steps closer to his final destination. How he had your entire soul in a chokehold at that moment even though there was another man with you in this bed.

Minho interrupted your long-running existential crisis when he suddenly stopped and fucked himself into his hand until he covered your chest with a much smaller volume of cum this time. You were unbearably sore at that point so you stopped him when he attempted to go down again. He hopped off the bed as soon as he collected himself and gathered his clothes.

“You kids carry on. This night never happened,” he pressed his index finger on his lips and winked, then disappeared into the hallway. Mere moments later, you heard the sound of water running. 

You felt so vulnerable under Chris all of a sudden.

“I don’t– I don’t have to finish if y—”

“I’m fine. This is always my favorite part,” you wrapped your arms around his neck, “What’s the point if you’re not breeding me in the finale?”

A tired smile appeared on his lips, and he put his hand under your waist to support your body better. The front door opened and closed in the distance, indicative of Minho’s departure, and for some reason, once he left the premises for good, Chris started running to the finish line as fast as he could, unable to look away from your eyes.

I do. I do worship you. You’re all I ever wanted.

There were so many things he wanted to say, but it was neither the right place nor the right time, not even the right point in the timeline of his life. 

“Chris…”

As if you didn’t do anything to each other the entire night, the second he heard you call his name, his entire body convulsed over you. You let him rest his head on your shoulder for some time as a pleasant sense of fatigue slowly started to envelop you. The acts committed throughout the night were highly questionable, but you felt satisfied.

You felt happy.

“Rest now,” he pulled the sheets to cover you from the shoulder down, “I’ll go take a shower first.”

“Can you wake me up if I fall asleep?”

“Mhm.”

When Chris came back to his bedroom with a towel wrapped around his waist, you were indeed sleeping. He sat down beside you and watched the way your chest softly rose and fell for a while. He was feeling a weird sense of tightening in his ribcage when he realized he actually didn’t want to wake you up. Could he fake that he tried but you didn’t wake up if you asked him? Could he—?

“Oh, you’re back,” you opened your eyes, sleep still dripping from them.

“I was– I was about to—”

“Mm, you smell good,” you smiled while inhaling the pleasant scent of his shower gel, “I’ll go take a shower. I sacrificed myself to two sex gods tonight.”

Chris involuntarily burst out laughing as you got up to your feet.

“I put out towels for you in the bathroom.”

“Thank you,” you ruffled his damp hair.

You gathered your clothes and walked to the bathroom naked. When you emerged again, you were fully dressed as though you had never seen each other naked before.

“Thank you for tonight,” you peeked into the living room where Chris was lounging on a couch reading, “I had a great time.”

“It’s late. I’ll give you a ride.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I know,” he closed the cover of the book and grabbed his car keys, “I want to.”

You were both so tired that nobody uttered a word throughout the whole drive, but it felt safe. It felt nice to have Chris with you. As you were looking out the window watching the streetlights pass by, your heart was doing these weird somersaults, and you were feeling this intense urge to smile like an idiot for some reason.

“Thank you for agreeing to spend your birthday with me,” Chris softly uttered as he pulled the handbrake, then immediately corrected himself, “I mean… with us.”

“It’s not like I was doing you a favor, you know. I had a blast myself,” you smiled knowingly, “You were too hot to handle tonight.”

You saw something on Chris’ face for the first time. It was a smile alright, but it was almost almost laced with a tinge of shyness.

Your heart skipped multiple beats.

“Good night, Chris,” you stole one last glance from him and exited the car.

He watched you until you walked into your building, then went home to properly crash. Little did he know he wasn’t going to be able to get the rest his entire body was craving.

Chris found himself in an unfamiliar room. Sitting. He wasn’t tied or anything, but he wasn’t able to move. He knew the bed he was facing; it was his own. You were on it on fours. So was Minho.

Fucking you.

“Admit it, you want me more,” Minho was smiling maniacally as he pulled on your hair, “You came so hard with me, your legs were shaking.”

“Don’t say that to his face. He’ll never be able to take it,” you looked dead into Chris’ eyes, “No one’s ever gonna love you, Christopher.”

Chris snapped his eyes open with a gasp, completely covered in sweat. He had no idea what the fuck was up with what he witnessed just now. Were you seeing this in your dream by any chance? He didn’t know.

But what he did know was that he did not like what he saw.

He got up from the couch he passed out on and poured himself a tall glass of cold water to soothe his insides. Something at the back of his head was telling him he was neck-deep in trouble, and it was too late to nip it in the bud.

There was nothing he could do anymore besides helplessly waiting for the cancer to spread until it killed him.

「© 2023, exxxtraoddinary · No translations, rewrites, or reposts permitted」

✉ Enjoyed this? It would be cool of you to reblog so that my work can reach more people.

Holy CRAP

So Unlike You (Yunho x Fem!Reader)

Pairing: Jeong Yunho x fem!reader/ Side pairing: OT8 x fem!Reader

Word Count: 6k

Genre: smut sprinkled with fluffiness/ AU: sugar baby, idolverse

Summary: After hearing about you and Wooyoung, your sweet puppy makes a very surprising request, and you're eager to oblige him.

Warnings: cnc, consensual non consensual, rape play, edging, bondage, light bondage, spanking, pussy slapping, rough oral sex, oral sex, cream pie, unprotected sex (wrap it, but it's also discussed beforehand that they don't use one), pet names, mean names, roleplay, ripping clothes off, groping, polyamorous relationship, established relationship, poly!ateez, poly!reader, sugar baby au, idolverse au, dirty talk, super dirty, like damn. Sex toys, nipple play, nipple clamps

MINORS DNI!

Previously on Idol Companion

*****

Yunho was the sweetest, most gentle man you know. This was saying something considering your other boyfriends were equally sweet. He never hesitated to help or comfort you. You remembered him waiting on you hand and foot when you’d gotten sick. He’d driven you and Mihee to her ex-boyfriends’ house in case they showed up. Yunho never showed you anything other than respect, kindness and compassion. Yunho was your mood maker, your gentle giant, the other half of your “Twin Towers”. He rarely showed his “bad” side in front of you; you almost denied he even had one since he rarely rose to anger.  

So, his request certainly caught you off guard. 

You’d both come back home from a simple date night of arcade games, pizza, and a stroll down by the river. Yunho’s calming, laid back energy always felt refreshing after particularly rough days. You spent an afternoon wrangling toddlers, talking to parents, helping your friend Mihee settle into her dorm, and talking to your mom about your cousin's birthday party. Ending your day with your sweetest boyfriend relieved you of all the stress on your shoulders. Walking into the apartment together, you remained as quiet as possible to not disturb a sleeping Yeosang, so you both drank a glass of wine in the kitchen. 

“You know that I love you, right?” Yunho asked nervously, sitting across from you at the island counter. 

This phrase became popular amongst your boyfriends, since they typically followed it up with something suspicious. Still, how bad could it possibly be? It was Yunho.

“I’m aware,” you gave a sweet smile, “But you can always remind me, if you want.”

He gave a nervous laugh, running his fingertip around the rim of the wine glass. You could see him thinking it over in his mind, turning it around and around for the right words. Several scenarios crossed your mind as you watched him think. He’s ill. He’s in debt. His family is in trouble and he needs your help. There are so few things that could be wrong, but you hoped it wasn’t so bad. 

“Yuyu-ah,” you reached out for him, concerned now, “What’s the matter? You can tell me. Are you sick? Is your family okay? You don’t need to hesitate with me, you know that.”

“It’s nothing like that,” he shook his head, taking your hand gently. “Really,” he insisted, “It’s…Wooyoung told me you and him tried something new in bed a while back and…”

A relieved smile came across your face, “And you wanted to try that too? Yunho, you don’t have to be scared to approach me about trying new things. I trust you with my body every time, don’t I? I didn’t think you’d like free use play, but if you’re curious about it, we can give it a go.”

“That sounds nice, but that’s not what I wanted to ask you about.”

“Then what?”

“I wanted to see if you…if you…”

“If I…?” 

“If you’d ever like to try consensual non-consensual play with me.” He blurted out the words before drowning them back with wine. 

The request stunned you a moment. You sunk deep into your thoughts to try comprehending the suggestion. Not that you’re against rape play. You’ve heard of other people doing it, and you’d done it once with another client in a safe, trusting environment. But, you expected such suggestions from that person, not from Yunho. You pictured Yunho, taller and bigger and stronger, pinning you to his bed and harshly pounding into you while you whined and pleaded with him to stop. He’d have no trouble overpowering you if you truly fought back. Unlike other clients before him, you knew Yunho would only do it if you gave a firm, certain ‘yes’ and after a long discussion over ground rules and safety colors/words. Seeing his large hands, you remembered each time they went around your throat or sharply slapped your ass. Yunho could be rough and dominant if he truly wanted. 

“You want to do that?” you asked, dumbfounded still. 

“Um, well…” he smoothed a hand through his black hair, scratching the back of his head, “I’ve always wanted to try it with someone, but I never dated anyone long enough to feel comfortable asking. Since we’ve done kinky things together, I thought, maybe if you wanted to and felt certain, we could try that?” His puppy eyes met yours, and you melted. “I swear I won’t be upset if you say ‘no’. Please, don’t feel you have to agree with it because you’re my Companion or anything. We definitely do not have to do it, if you’re uncomfortable with that. I only thought I’d ask. It’s okay. It’s totally okay if you don’t want to do it.”

“Yunho,” you ran your thumb the back of his hand comfortingly, “If there’s anyone I’d feel comfortable doing that with, it’s you.”

A light pink brightened his cheeks, and he giggled, “Really?”

“Yes,” you nodded, “I’ll admit I’m surprised it’s you who asked me. I expected Hongjoong or Jongho to ask, if any of you ever did.” 

“I know,” he blushed, “But I thought you might say ‘no’ because it’s not something we’d normally do in bed. It’d be different from the usual dominant stuff we do, and a bit rougher.”

“You want to wreck me, Yuyu?” you teased, laughing softly when he turned away again. “I don’t mind. I trust you to take care of me, and I think it's a new thing for us to explore.” 

“Really? It's honestly okay if you don't want to,” he repeated. 

“Yunho, yes,” you assured him, walking around the counter and into his arms. “I'd like to try it too. You want to do that now or another time?”

“No, not now,” he shook his head, “When Yeosang goes to see his parents. That way he doesn't over hear it and think that I'm actually hurting you. Besides,” he pulled you closer and smirked, “That way you can be as loud as you like.”

A laugh was muffled by his kiss. After getting his confirmation, you and Yunho discussed exactly what he wanted to do. He asked if you both could do “the entire act” which included you refusing sex and him not taking a “no” scenario. Nothing too elaborate, yet enough to set a dynamic and tone. You both decided on a color system, and your usual safe word “Buttercup”. Being a toy user, you told him you didn't mind the toys or if he decided to restrain you somehow, which led to a discussion about ropes or handcuffs that you left up to him. You agreed to a day and time that would be best for both of you, then went to bed together. 

****

“Bye, Yeosangie!” 

You kissed Yeosang for the hundredth time that morning, trying to capture as much of it as you could. He'd be gone for three days to see his parents, so you cashed in as many kisses as possible. Yunho’s request did excite you, so perhaps you appeared a bit eager to get him out the door at the same time. 

“I'm going to miss you,” you pouted in his arms. 

“I'll only be gone three days, babe,” he laughed, hugging you tightly still. “You have seven other boyfriends to keep you company until I come back.”

“But none of them will watch reality shows with me,” you said, toying with the strings of his hoodie. “Who's going to talk shit about bitchy housewives with me?”

You recently managed to get a VPN to watch reality tv shows from other countries. Yeosang quickly became your reality junk buddy after a Real Housewives episode.

“We can stream them online, and watch them together that way,” he replied. “We do live in the age of technology after all.”

“It's not the same,” you whined, hugging him. 

“YN, he's not going off to war,” said Yunho from behind you. “He's coming back.”

“What if a war happens and he has to go before then?” You joked, mocking a sad tone and burying your face in Yeosang's neck. “I'll never see him again.”

The three of you laughed before Yeosang gave you one more kiss, then released you. You'd offered to drive him to the station, but he insisted that you stay home. A part of you wondered if Yunho hinted at the afternoon plans. The both of you let him leave, waving goodbye until he closed the door behind him. You tiptoed to kiss Yunho’s cheek, then went to clean up the breakfast dishes. 

Your eyes paid attention to the time while you washed dishes. Yunho said he'd like to do it around noon, since that gave you both plenty of time before, during and after, so you suspected he was preparing his room right now. The anticipation left you thinking of all the possible things Yunho could do to you. You never experienced a mean Yunho before, but the members said it can be scary. You told him he didn't have to hold back with you; it's his fantasy and you'd be fine with whatever he decided. Since it's his first time doing this, he said he'd be gentle but once that arousal boils up, that might disappear. Finishing up the counter space, you looked at the clock to see it was half past noon. You worried Yunho might have been too nervous and backed out. Even though it was his idea, you told him if he ever changed his mind you wouldn't be upset and he said vice versa for you. You’d moved to wait in the living room when he appeared in the kitchen doorway. 

“Hey you.”

Yunho stood there in a long black shirt and shorts. His face bare and hair free of product, Yunho stripped down to his real self. You often said how you preferred them without all the makeup and hairspray. The stylists always made their skin a lighter shade, and they covered up Yeosang's pretty red wine birthmark. Seeing Yunho as himself, wearing simple clothes, flustered you more than his stage outfits. He leaned against the counter, eyes already peeling off your clothes. Heat rose up from under your shirt at the sight. It reminded you of the villains in dramas, who ooze sex appeal and wickedness at the same time. The kind that are hard to root against because they're so damn good looking.

“Hey,” you kept your tone light and casual, “I just finished cleaning up. I was going to watch this new movie I found, if you want to join me.”

“Nah,” he shook his head, eyes focused on your chest, “I have something else I want to do instead.”

“Game?” You suggested innocently. 

“No,” he drawled, shaking his head. He walked around the counter towards you, eyes glinting with lust. His hands rested on your waist, while he leaned into you, “I'd like to do you.”

“Yunho,” you sighed, sliding from his warm embrace, “Not now. I'm tired, and not really in the mood.”

“But…” Yunho scoffed incredulously, “That's your job though.”

You hesitated. You never thought such words would come out of his mouth. “Yunho…”

“You're a Companion,” he continued, “Fucking me is your whole job. Sure, okay, we go on dates and all that, but at the end of the day if I want some ass, you're supposed to give it to me.”

His words. The irritated look in his eyes. Intimidating and standing taller, you couldn't help being flustered by the change in him. He should do more acting. 

“I don't have to if I don't want to,” you argued back, yanking your wrist from him. 

“Yes, you do,” he roughly grabbed it back, “It's not like you don't like it. You give it up to Hongjoong all the time. You let us gangbang you in front of cameras, and at home. I'm not going to ask you to do anything you haven't done a hundred times before.”

You made an attempt to escape his grasp, but he really did hold onto you. Quickly, he pulled you to him as you struggled and planted a hard kiss on your lips. He told you he wanted you to truly fight him back; he assured you he wouldn't hurt you too badly. You lightly slapped his shoulders, wriggling in his hold as the kiss deepened and he forced his tongue into your mouth. A soft groan escaped him as he trapped you between himself and the counter. You swatted at him, trying to scoot free as he kissed and nibbled down your neck. The bulge grazed against you kindled a fire inside you, but you forced it back down. 

“Yunho-ah, stop it,” you scoffed, pushing him away briefly. When you slapped him lightly, he glared. It aroused you further. 

“No,” he grunted, hands wrapping around you once more. You squeaked at the hands squeezing your ass, feeling it through the thin shorts you wore. “I'm horny, and your job is to fix that. Let me see these.”

“No!”

You tried blocking his hands from sliding under your top to lift your shirt, but it didn't work. He lifted the tight top above your breasts, which he immediately kneaded in his hands. Yunho’s jaw dropped at the sight of them in his palms, your nipples hardening against his palms. You’d opted out of a bra today, and you’re glad you did. The sudden intrusion made you gasp. Using one leg to spread yours, Yunho groaned as he cupped both breasts. 

“Stop,” you said, trying to cover them from view but purposefully failing. “I'm going to call Hongjoong,” you threatened. 

“For? For him to come watch?” He smirked, flicking at one of your nipples. “He loves watching, and I normally don't mind, but I want to keep it just you and me today.” You grabbed his wrists when he moved down to your shorts, shaking your head and breathing heavily. “Let me see you,” he ordered, “It's mine, after all. I pay for it.”

“I don't want to,” you shot back, though you did not appear as confident as you sounded. “Leave me alone.”

“No.” 

You gasped when his hand grabbed your sex. Long fingers sliding fully over your shorts, he massaged it in circles that had you frozen in place. 

“Gosh, it's so warm,” he moaned, his other hand going back to fondling your breast. “And it gets wet so easily. I only have to rub it a few times and it's soaked. We really hit gold when we got you.” 

“Let go,” you demanded, but didn't move. 

Yunho then turned you around, pressing you into the counter once more, and continued feeling you up. His hardon brushing your ass now, he let out a low moan when you instinctively pushed back. Soft panting filled your ear as he lightly touched you. You pushed against his hands, trying to tear yourself from him, but he kept a firm grip on you. 

“Yunho, I mean it. Let me go.”

“Ugh, shut up already. It's not like I haven't done this before.”

“I will tell management. I'm not kidding.”

He yanked your head back, forcing you to look at him over your shoulder, and scowled. “Go ahead. I'll tell them you asked for it and they'll believe me. Nobody believes sluts like you,” he grabbed your chest again and pinched your nipples, “I’ll even tell them you didn’t wear a bra. ‘Well, hyungmin, YN wasn’t wearing a bra, and I was only giving her what she wanted’,” he said in a mocking tone, his voice tickling your nerves, “‘Noonanim, YN wanted it a little rough’. Honestly, YN, who do you think they’ll listen to?” 

This empty threat made you hold back a giggle. You never expected him to be so in character. 

“Buttercup,” you snorted, unable to hold it in.

“What's wrong?” His concern dropped once he heard you giggling. “What? Is it too cheesy?”

“No, it's you being so in character.”

“I did work on a drama once. I guess you can say I'm an actor,” he kissed beneath your ear, “Do you want me to dial back the realness?”

“A bit.” 

“Alright. Time in?”

“Time in.”

Returning to his character, Yunho took your arm and started dragging you to his room. Your heart started racing, a breath catching in your throat at the sudden roughness in him. He brought you into his room, slamming the door behind him and threw you onto his bed. 

“Yunho!” You exclaimed before he forced himself on top of you. “Yunho, stop it!”

“No,” he grunted, taking hold of both your wrists. “You're my girlfriend. You're supposed to fuck me whenever I want, and right now, I want it.” 

“Yunho, please!” You added a whimper at the end as you let him take your wrists. 

He grabbed a belt from beside you and wrapped it around your wrists. You still wriggled beneath him as if trying to escape, but you made no real escape attempt. The adrenaline sent blood rushing to your core. Every single nerve in your body tingled each time his body brushed against yours. Holding down your arms, Yunho kissed you deeply again and grinded into you. His hardon pressed lightly against your thigh each time, and he followed it with a soft groan. You let out more whining, even turning your head before he grabbed your chin to roughly kiss you. One hand putting your hands onto a hook on the headboard, the other slid up your body to your breast for a soft squeeze. Unable to free your arms, you could do nothing but move around as Yunho kissed and caressed your body. Large, warm hands slid up to your breasts, cupping and squeezing them through your shirt. 

“Give me clothes you don't care about. I want to rip them off you.”

You'd left an old tank top, shorts, and underwear in his bedroom last night. When you got them this morning, you saw he'd made small slits in each piece to rip them easier. He'd cut into the tank top by the neckline, which he took a hold of now. He stayed on top of you, grabbing your tits while he continued grinding into you. You never realized how much stronger Yunho is compared to the other members. Mingi, Jongho, San and Yeosang worked out often, so you expected it, but Yunho had size on his side. He kept you firmly pinned even with the belt and hook aiding him, and he made sure your hips did not move too much. 

“I don't know why you bother with clothes,” he grumbled, “Whores don't need clothes.”

You yelped when the sound of ripping fabric followed, exposing your bare chest to him. Hungrily, Yunho took one nipple in his mouth to suck while his other hand pinched the opposite side. He continued grinding into you, groaning softly. You loved how you could feel his dick through his pants, hard and pulsing in his boxers and into your center. 

“Yunho, please stop,” you cried, giving a sniff. “Please, don't do this.”

“Shut up,” he growled, kissing further down your body. 

“Please-”

“-I said ‘shut up’, slut,” he repeated firmly, slapping your cheek lightly. “You don't speak again unless I speak to you first, got it?”

“Yes,” you sniffled, pouting and giving him doe eyes. 

“Sit up.”

He helped you into a sitting position where your mouth came to level with his crotch. With a swift tug of his waistband, his semi-hardon stood inches from your face. Yunho removed his shirt, and you took in his lean form. Not as defined as the others, you still wanted to kiss and feel every inch of him. Yet, despite your clit pulsing from the sight, you pretended to push back and away from him. Shaking your head, you purse your lips as Yunho brought your head back into position. When you didn’t immediately open your mouth, Yunho pinched your nose and slapped his tip against your lips. The light tapping combined with the instinct to breathe caused you to gasp. A gasp that Yunho instantly snuffed out with his dick. Grasping your hair, he kept you in place while he smoothly went in and out of your mouth. You continued whimpering and trying to get away, but not too hard. Yunho’s pulsating cock slid over your tongue, and tempted you into touching yourself. You heard his haggard breathing getting heavier, moans starting to escape him as he stared down at you. Soon, Yunho was thrusting himself into your throat. Your humming vibrated around his tip, and he chuckled. 

“That’s right,” he said through gritted teeth, “Hum around my cock. Go ahead. I know how much you like it.”

You gave a fake sob as he started gagging you. Each deep thrust ended with you gulping and gasping when he pulled off you. Thin streams connected your lips to his tip, and Yunho used this connection to smear himself on your chin and cheeks. Both hands on your head, Yunho forced you to the hilt and stayed there at least a few seconds at a time. 

“Yunho, stop,” you coughed, “It…It hurts.”

“It doesn’t seem to hurt when Seonghwa does it,” he grunted, “So take it.” 

You hadn’t said ‘buttercup’ again, so Yunho did not stop. Purposefully, you didn’t hollow in your cheeks to suck him. When he saw you simply keeping your mouth open he scoffed. 

“No, no, no, suck it,” he ordered, pushing himself into your throat. When you didn’t suck, he poked his tip to your cheek and slapped it. “Suck it right, slut,” he slapped you again, the sting mixing with the ache in your throat. “Don’t act like you’ve never sucked dick before. Hollow out those cheeks and-Fuck, yes, like that.”

Whimpering, you started sucking him properly. This made him give your throat a break and focus on rubbing himself on your tongue and lips. You wriggled around on the bed as your own arousal started throbbing between your thighs. A bundle of his sheets against your sex tempted you into grinding against his mattress, eager for a form of relief. Yet, you knew you’re meant to not want this, so you kept yourself firmly planted on the bed. Yunho chuckled through a groan. 

“Look at you,” he mocked, smacking your cheek again as he pushed against your inner cheek. “Filthy, dumb slut getting turned on by me using her mouth.” When you let out a muffled wail, he plunged deep into your throat again, “Don’t act like you don’t like it. It’s what you’re paid to do. I’m only taking what I pay good money for.” 

He kept you planted there as he started fucking your mouth roughly. A slight pain burned in your throat after a while, making your eyes swim with tears that came down your cheeks. The cheap mascara and eyeliner you’d applied colored the tears with black, a look Yunho asked for specifically. Your clit throbbed while your walls clenched for something to grab onto; your nipples tingled and hardened from imaging his mouth and hands on them. Yunho, seeing your nipples erect, reached down for one as he continued abusing your mouth. Index and thumb fingers rolled it in between them, the twinge of pain adding to the burning pleasure. Sharp slaps to them every so often made you whine around the cock ravaging your mouth. 

Without a word, he pulled you off him and pushed you back onto the pillows. “I know exactly what to do with these,” he huffed, reaching into a box beside the bed. 

You laid there, coughing and clearing your aching throat, as he shifted through a selection of toys, unable to keep yourself from wriggling around underneath him. When he withdrew a chain of nipple clamps, you widened your eyes and shook your head. While the sight of them usually excited you, you pretended to fear it as you struggled to get away from Yunho. This only made him hook your bound wrists back to his headboard. Straddling your thighs, Yunho bent down and greedily sucked one of your nipples. He cupped and squeezed while teasing the sensitive peaks with his tongue. 

“Yunho-ah,” you cried, sniffling and shaking your head, “Please, stop it.”

“Shut up,” he snapped, spanking one of your tits for emphasis. 

“Yunho, please don’t put those. They hurt a lot-”

“Do I look like someone who gives a fuck? Shut. Up. And. Take. It.”

His meanness only turned you on more. You watched him prepare you for the clamps and purposefully moved around to make your breasts jiggle. Yunho looked over at you for a moment. You saw him admiring your hands tied to the headboard, seeing the drool and tears left on your face. You pouted, giving him a pleading look that made his jaw drop. He wanted you to be pathetically helpless against his big, strong body. He wanted you pleading for mercy and saying ‘no’ until the very end. He bent down over you again, pecking your lips softly and nuzzling your nose gently. Neither of you said anything, but you still sniffled and whimpered as he went back to sucking and biting your nipples. You often tried keeping whichever breast he chose from his mouth before he grabbed them harshly and kept you in place. The clamps brought a never ending wave of pleasure that you forced yourself to restrain.

“Just as pretty as I thought,” he gave a self-satisfied smile as the chain pulled your nipples. He slapped the sides to see them bounce against his hands, “They’re prettier covered in loads of cum.”

“Yunho-”

He roughly grabbed your chin and squeezed your cheeks to keep you quiet, “You just don’t know how to shut up, do you? How many times do I have to say it?”

“Yunho,” you sobbed.

“Ugh, you’re so annoying,” he scoffed. Going back to the box, he took out a dildo-gag. Only a few inches, it wouldn’t go to your throat but it’d certainly keep you quiet. “Open up.”

You shook your head, rolling your lips closed.

“I said ‘open up’, slut.”

He pinched your nose again, and you tried holding your breath as long as possible until you gave in. The second your mouth opened, the gag went inside. He strapped it securely behind your head, enough to keep it from coming loose but not so tight it truly hurt you.

“There,” he said, “Maybe now you’ll finally shut up. You’re prettier when you’re not talking.”

The toy in your mouth caused saliva to build up around it, which you tried swallowing down to keep it from coming out. That didn’t prepare you for what he did next: Yunho went further down your body to your shorts. He roughly and hurriedly tugged them off you, and groaned at the sight of your wet panties. Your pussy ached when he heatedly tore them enough to reveal your sex and ass, the cheap fabric hanging by the elastic bands. When you tried closing your legs, he forced them back apart and sat between your thighs to keep you spread out. Your heart started racing in anticipation, sensing his hard cock close to your dripping sex, and expected him to go inside right away. But no. Yunho planned to drag this out. 

Lifting your legs up by the ankles, he pressed your knees to your chest and swatted your bare pussy. The stinging pain added to the clamps on your nipples, and you thought you might cum if he continued spanking you. Yunho’s quick, hard slaps teased your exposed clit, the brief touch sliding across your pussy each time his hand came down. Seeing you trembling on the bed, Yunho stopped spanking and rubbed your sore lips gently. 

“I know you’re not about to cum,” he said, a threat in his voice. “I know you’re not about to cum before me. I didn’t say anything about you getting to cum first.” He spit right on it, swirling it around slowly, “No, no, no. We’ve told you before that a proper slut would let us cum first. This is for my pleasure, not yours,” he slapped your pussy particularly hard to which you gave a muffled cry, “I don’t pay you to have orgasms. I pay you to give me orgasms.”

You attempted to plead, but your gag kept you quiet.

“What’s that?” he cocked his head to hear you, “You’re going to be a good toy and let me fuck you however I like? Hm, that’s good to know.” He laughed when you reverently shook your head, “Oh, you know you love it. Your pussy certainly loves it.”

He grabbed his dick and started tapping it against your pussy. The teasing motion stirred the pot boiling inside you. You could feel your orgasm slowly rolling to the front, about to explode right onto his wet tip until he’d stop. When you’d calm down, he’d go right back to teasing his length against your pussy. It became absolute torture. If you ever stopped being wet enough, he’d spit right where you both met to keep you slick enough for him. You took the moment to watch his body tense up at the flickers of pleasure grinding into you gave him. One hand gripping your thigh, the other made sure his dick moved exactly how he knew it’d weaken you. You saw the veins in his hands from the pressure, and wanted them inside you. You wanted them knuckle-deep, pushing in and out and wiggling deep within. His fingers always looked better around your throat or stuffed in your holes. But, he didn’t use his fingers. Not once. 

When he finally did enter you, he gasped in surprise. “Oh no,” he said, smoothly gliding in and out of you, “Looks like I forgot a condom.”

Another thing you’d both discussed and cleared on before starting.

“No, don’t do that,” you tried saying through the gag. “Don’t cum in me.”

“Huh? What?” he cupped his ear, starting to rub your clit with his thumb so you mewled loudly. “You want me to cum in you?”

“No! Don't!”

“I bet you do,” he started pumping in and out of you faster, “I bet you love when Hongjoong fills you with cum every night. I’m surprised you’re not pregnant already with all the times he’s creamed your little pie.” He took hold of your thighs and kept them spread further apart. “But, don’t worry. I’ll cum in you,” he sneered, “Maybe I’ll leave you here and call the other members so they can fill up your pussy too. You’ll be so full of it, we’d have to take you to the clinic the next day,” he laughed.

The idea of him taking his own fantasy a step further had your thighs quaking in his grasp. Yunho kept the same steady pace throughout, only stopping when he sensed your orgasm drawing near again. A cocktail of pain and pleasure once again filled your insides, and you realized how much you enjoyed it. You liked mean Yunho. He exhibited a sadistic desire to bring you close to an orgasm, only to deny it to you at the last second. Your disappointed and frustrated whimpers delighted him, usually resulting in him taunting you as he pounded his hips into yours a few times. He meant it when he said he’d be merciless. He proved it when he flipped you onto your front, lifted your head up by your hair, and started pounding your pussy relentlessly. Any plea or cry you gave went unheard underneath the sounds of his skin slapping yours. When the bed banged against the wall, you thought that usual shyness might come out, but it only encouraged him further. 

“Please, please, please,” you cried through your gag, tears watering your eyes again. “Please stop. It hurts so much.”

“Shut up,” he growled, tugging your hair and thrusting faster. “Shut up and take my cock.”

“Yunho-”

“I said ‘shut up’, bitch.” He pushed your face into the pillow, the dildo going further into your mouth and silencing you right away. “Fuck toys don’t talk.”

You sobbed into the pillow, your nose poking out enough for you to breathe. Your eyes rolled back right as his tip started pushing your g-spot. Each thrust sent you closer to the edge once more. You thought you’d go insane from the feeling alone. You felt nothing but the desperation growing inside you. The need to meet his hips with yours, the need to be clenching and squeezing him through an orgasm became far too deep. You lost all sense. The only thing you focused on was pretending to squirm out of Yunho’s strong grip. 

What pushed you the closest was when Yunho’s moans became breathy and erratic. By his tightened grasp, his feverish thrusts and incoherent streams of curses, you knew he’d finish soon. You clenched him tightly, which made him quicken his pace. Soon, a distinct hot sensation spilled inside you and you almost came with him. Yunho continued going until he pumped every last drop inside you. Quivering, your body tensed up in effort to stay on the edge. 

“Tak-Take it,” he groaned, huffing as he squeezed out a few more drops, “It’s the least you can do after…after rejecting me…”

The second he withdrew from you, you weakly scrambled away from him.

“And where do you think you’re going, huh?” 

He roughly pulled you back into his grasp. Restricting your arms with one of his, he parted your legs with his knee and started rubbing your sex again. The tips of his fingers rapidly gliding over your clit had you trembling and clutching Yunho’s arms. Your body caved into itself, a burning tightness building the longer he kept you in his grasp. You tried closing your thighs together and moving from his hand, but he only forced them further apart and went faster.

“That’s it,” he said in your ear, still toying with your clit despite the sensitivity settling in, “Cum all over yourself like the pathetic slut you are. Go ahead. Do it.” 

You shook your head as if keeping yourself from giving into his demands. 

“You know you want to,” he said, stopping to bring your knee further up and then continuing, “You wanted to a little bit ago. Am I not good enough for you to cum for? Huh?” 

You put your hands on his wrist, trying to move his hand away but not doing a good job of it. This time, he didn’t do anything else. He only rubbed; his fingers caused his warm cum to mix with your juices, getting the mess everywhere, but you didn’t care. You came in seconds. The blinding climax made every muscle in your body seize up, and you screamed around the dildo in your mouth. You could do nothing but lay there as Yunho teased an orgasm out of you. Being completely at his mercy, tied up and clamped, you laid there and came hard until the very end. 

When you finally finished, you desperately chased whatever bit of air you could get through your nose. It wasn’t until Yunho undid the gag that you sucked in more air. Keeping you in his arms, Yunho carefully unbuckled his belt from your wrists and tenderly rubbed them for you. He peppered the side of your face with soft, brief kisses as he gingerly removed the clamps to rub your sore nipples. The two of you laid there in the afterglow of this new experience, content to listen to each other’s breathing gradually steady over time. You stayed still when he started wiping the mess from you with a wet cloth, drying it for you right after. A shower or bath would be for later. Neither of you felt up to it at the moment. 

“Did you like it?” he asked in the silence, not having moved an inch away from you. “Was I too rough? Not rough enough? I didn’t want to overdo it with you.”

You shook your head, “I really liked it, actually.” 

“You liked it, huh?” he teased, giving you a gentle squeeze. “Even when I hit you?”

“Yes,” your cheeks grew warm from the confession. “I’ve never seen you that way before.” You turned over to face him, remaining in his arms still, “It really turned me on.” Talking made you realize your throat did itch slightly. You’d need some tea to soothe it at least. 

“Oh?” he lifted your leg to his waist and put his arm around you, “Maybe I should be mean in bed more often.”

“I wouldn’t be opposed to it.” You then asked, “Was I…I don’t know how to say it…Fighting back enough? I didn’t want to make you think I really wasn’t into it, but I know you wanted me to kind of fight back.”

“You were perfect, babe. It was exactly like I imagined,” he insisted, kissing you softly. “Thank you,” he said, moving hair from your face, “For doing this with me. I thought it might scare you or you would see me differently when I asked you.”

“Never,” you assured him, clearing your throat. “I’ll admit I was surprised by it at first, but it was something new for us to explore.” You chuckled again, which bothered your throat, “But I did think you getting so into it was funny at first.”

“I wanted to do it right,” he laughed. “I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

“You wouldn’t have,” you coughed. “You wouldn’t have disappointed me. We would’ve just had normal sex or no sex or whatever we both felt like doing.” 

“Oh, baby,” Yunho immediately perked up, “Your throat. It must hurt. Is it really bad? I shouldn’t have done it so much.” 

“It itches a bit.” 

“I’ll make you some tea then,” he peeled himself away from you and sat up. Ruffling his hair, he reached for his boxers on the floor and said, “And an ice pack too?” 

“Yes, please.” 

You knew once you really started moving around, you’d know which parts of your body will need to be iced. Yunho gently pecked your lips, then left the bedroom. Sinking further into his bed, you felt yourself drifting to sleep. The events you replayed in your head gave you chills. Nobody looking at Yunho would think he enjoyed such a taboo act; though, you’re not bothered by it at all. A part of you wondered if he'd do it again, since Yeosang won’t be home any time soon. 

You’d definitely have no objections. 

****

A/N: hey hey friends! Sorry this one took so long. Like with all my current wips, I've been having trouble sticking to one and finishing it. I hope this one makes up for it though! I have a Seonghwa one coming up soon too! always like and reblog, it keeps us going <3

so freaking cute, i would LOVE being confessed to while playing Minecraft tbh

Blown Up Love

reader x wonwoo

summary: gaming is all fun and... well, games, until you start crushing on the only person that takes pity on you and saves you from mobs.

genre: fluff, university au, gamer!wonwoo

warnings: swearing, death (but it's fake)

wc: 7.1k

a/n: i wrote this so long ago i forgot all my jokes - i haven't played minecraft in forever but i imagine playing with wonwoo would be so much fun - there will be a bonus eventually bc this somehow isn’t enough fluff for me

You run as fast as you can, hearing the groans behind you, a constant reminder of what followed not far behind you. You swerve to the side as another monster appears in front of you, a flash of white and the cracking of bones snapping against each other. You can’t help but scream as you hear a twang and realize that you’ve been shot. 

“Are you really leaving me like this?” You cry, praying one of your friends will take pity on you. 

“Don’t you have armor?” Jihoon asks. “Why didn’t you make a weapon?” 

“I just wanted to hide underground, I didn’t realize it was night time already!” You scream as you take another hit, trying to dodge trees and what feels like hundreds of monsters converging on you. “I'm literally outside the base, can someone please come help me?” 

“You’re so dramatic,” Seungcheol says. You don’t have to see him to know he’s rolling his eyes. 

“I’m about to die!” Your hands are shaking. You know that one more hit means death. 

You can see the light of the base, your last hope. If you can just make it a little bit farther, maybe you’ll make it. A figure moves toward you in the darkness and you instinctively turn away, though a moment later you’re sprinting toward it because you realize that it’s not a monster but one of your friends. Wonwoo. 

“Wow, you were not kidding, there’s so many,” he says. He charges in front of you, practically glowing in diamond armor. No, literally glowing. When had he enchanted his armor? 

You can hear him slaughter them behind you as you make a last ditch effort to make it inside. Just before you can open the door you hear another whizz, and something slams into. Everything turns red

Respawn or return to main menu. 

You stare at the screen. 

“I got your stuff,” Wonwoo says, voice as calm and even as ever. You sigh and click respawn. 

“Thanks for trying,” you mumble as you return to the game, your character waking up deep inside the base. 

“Sorry, I was in the middle of mining so I couldn’t really make it in time,” he says. You meet his character by the entrance to the base. You can’t help but smile at his skin, mostly covered by the glowing armor. You can still pick out the glasses he’d added to his skin, just like the ones he wore in real life, big and as round as he could make them in the pixelated game. You can almost see him in your mind, probably sitting in complete darkness in his room, wearing one of the three sweatshirts he cycled through. 

He gives you your items, tossing them in front, then vanishes into the base, probably to return to mining.You thank him again and wander around the interior of the base until you end up in the room you made for yourself. You had spent the last couple days dedicatedly designing the base, carved into the side of a mountain with rooms for all five of your friends to return to and put their stuff in. It was hours of work that was nowhere near being done, but you were enjoying every second of the rather monotonous work. 

What made you even happier was that your friends were actually using the rooms you set aside for them, each of them designing it a little to their own tastes. You might be absolutely terrible at fighting mobs, but you could at least build, and it felt nice that they weren’t totally disregarding that. Even if Wonwoo was the only one who would help you when you inevitably had to face the mobs. 

“Yn, are you still in the base?” Wonwoo asks. When you say yes, he asks you to meet him in the main entrance. 

You find him waiting, feeling inferior in your iron armor. He tosses you something. When you pick it up, you find out it’s an enchanted pickaxe, complete with unbreaking, mending, and fortune. 

“I figured it might be easier to work on this if you have, like, actually good tools.” 

“Thank you?” You can’t say you’re not surprised by Wonwoo’s generosity. You don’t know him very well. He’s Mingyu’s friend, and though you’ve hung out with all five of the guys many times this semester, he tended to be quieter and you weren’t convinced he didn’t hate you. Still, he was the only one on the server that didn’t bully you. 

“When did you get enchants,” you ask as you both go your separate ways. It’s finally daytime outside, so you deem it safe to continue working on the farm you were trying to design along the edge of the base. 

“It was pretty easy once I finished the villager farm,” he says. “Though I haven’t gotten around to reviving villagers to get cheap enchants. It’s on the list.” 

You frown as you climb the side of the mountain halfway up and continue designing what would hopefully be a sprawling pumpkin patch. “How did you have the time for that?” 

“I haven’t exactly logged off,” he says. 

“We started the server two days ago!” 

“It’s fall break,” he says. “I didn’t want to waste my time.” 

“I fear you.” 

“Hey, you guys are aware there are other people in this voice chat, right?” Mingyu says. 

“Shut up,” you say. 

“Get a room,” he says, pretending to cough. 

You can feel the blush spreading across your cheeks. It wasn’t that you had a crush on Wonwoo. He was just tall, and objectively attractive, and really nice, and smart, and he had saved your life more than once. Okay, maybe it was a small crush. 

“Can we set a time to kill the ender dragon,” Seungcheol asks. “I’m getting blaze rods right now.” 

“Okay, I think I have enough ender pearls,” Wonwoo says. “Want to try tonight?” 

“You are aware it’s already almost nine, right?” You say. 

“It’ll take like two minutes with all of us,” Jihoon says. 

“I’ll text Jeonghan and see if he wants to join,” Mingyu says. 

“I’m guessing no one cares that I’m not ready at all,” you grumble. 

“It’s not our fault you care more about picking flowers than playing the game,” Seungcheol says. 

“Hey! I have not been playing with flowers! I am an integral part of this server, if it weren’t for me you all would be living in dirt shacks!” 

“Yeah, but we’d still have diamond armor,” Jihoon says. 

“Why don’t you just ask Wonwoo for some armor.” Mingyu snickers. “I’m sure he can afford to support you.” 

You’re glad that it’s just a voice chat because otherwise you’d never hear the end of their teasing. 

“I do have an extra set of armor,” Wonwoo says. “Also, I have a ton of leftover books from enchanting that you guys should use.” 

“Maybe you have spent too much time on this,” Mingyu says. 

“What am I supposed to do?” 

“You’re an English major,” Mingyu says. “Don’t you have an essay or some books to read?” 

He laughs. “If you can find an English major that actually reads, I’ll log off.” 

“Do not log off until we’ve beaten the dragon!” Seungcheol says. 

“We could do it without him,” Mingyu says. 

“Sure you could,” Wonwoo says. “Yn, are you getting the armor or not?” 

You’ve been working on the farm outside, but as the sun starts to set, you begin to go back inside the base, not wanting a repeat of the previous night. “I’ll just die if I go with. Can’t I just stay and work on the base?” 

“Nope, you have to come,” Mingyu says. “Server rules.” 

“You can’t just make up rules on the spot,” you say. 

“ Jeonghan is coming, so no excuses.” 

You groan, knowing there’s no way out of it now. Jeonghan had joined exactly once, decided he was bored because Jihoon wouldn’t make him a “god” and hadn’t been on since. But it seemed like Mingyu was going to dictate friendship rules through Minecraft, so you were stuck. 

“Here,” Wonwoo says, appearing in the halfway-finished room that you made for yourself. He tosses you a full set of armor, and when you pick it up you find that it has full enchants. He must not have been lying about spending his entire break on this game. 

“I owe you!” You say. “Pretty much all I own is cobblestone and seeds but I will return this armor with only, like, minimal damage.” 

“Unless you fall into the void,” Seungcheol said. 

“Don’t even joke about that!” You say. 

Wonwoo laughs, his deep voice almost melodic. “You’re just scared because it’s a very real possibility.” 

“Not you bullying me, too,” you say, switching out the armor. “I thought you were on my side.” 

“I am,” he says. “And honestly if you really do fall into the void it’s fine, I can make a new set in probably ten minutes. Probably less.” 

“Can we make a rule about flirting in the main voice chat?” Seungcheol asks. 

“Fine, Wonwoo, join me in VC-2,” you say. Your heart is pounding a little as you pause the game and switch voice chats. It’s painfully quiet for two seconds as you wait but finally you hear the ding of someone joining you. 

“I’ll pay you real money to kill Seungcheol,” you say. 

Wonwoo is quiet for a moment. “Right now?” 

“Okay my bank account is a little empty, but next week I can buy you lunch?” You say. 

“Are you… hiring me as a hitman?” He asks. 

“Yes?” 

“Two lunches and it’s a deal.” 

“Done.” 

You switch back to the main voice chat, and hear the second half of Mingyu explaining that there is no way you are bold enough to actually be flirting. You hate that he’s right. 

“Back so soon?” Mingyu asks, cutting himself off mid-sentence. “Seungcheol, you owe me five dollars.” 

“I really just live in your head rent free, huh?” You say. “Making bets on me now?” 

“Actually, the bet was about the enchants that Wonwoo just gave me,” Mingyu says. “None of us believed you were actually flirting, but feel free to keep that inflated ego of yours.” 

You wonder if you’re going to be able to stop embarrassing yourself in front of Wonwoo. With Mingyu and Seungcheol around, probably not. 

The voice chat is mostly quiet as everyone goes to their own individual tasks. You are back to developing the farm (during the day). Jihoon and Mingyu are mining together and chatting about their spring schedule, while Seungcheol says he’s still getting blaze rods because he wants to make potions. Wonwoo is silent. 

You are starting to think he was giving up, when suddenly Seungcheol shouts. “Hey, what the hell?” 

“What’s wrong?” Wonwoo asks. 

“Something is shooting me.” He curses. 

“A blaze?” You ask, hoping your voice doesn’t sound as giddy as you feel. 

“No, what the fuck, it’s coming out of nowhere.” 

You’re struggling to stifle your laughter. 

“Oh my god, I’m gonna die,” Seungcheol says. “I’m actually gonna die what the fuck, I’m at two hearts, where is this coming from? I’m actually dying, I-”

kkakkamori was killed by VvWonwoovV. 

“What the fuck, Wonwoo?” 

“Nothing personal,” he says as you finally burst into laughter. “Just doing business.”

“You just killed me!” 

“I got your stuff,” he says. 

“Keep talking shit about me and I’ll make sure you never see a day of peace,” you say, cackling at Seungcheol’s curses. You can hear Mingyu and Jihoon laughing, too. You wonder how many lunches it would cost to take them out. 

“I won’t forget this,” Seungcheol says. “I’ll get revenge.” 

“Yeah, good luck with that,” Wonwoo says. 

“I can’t believe you killed me,” he says again. “Were you invis?” 

“Yeah, I used some arrows of harming and spectral arrows, too, just in case.” 

“Dude, you killed me in like five shots.” 

“Okay, Wonwoo is no longer allowed to be hired as a hitman,” Mingyu announces. “It’s not fair.” 

“Hey! Can’t I choose how to sell my services?” Wonwoo asks. 

“Was it worth betraying me?” Seungcheol pretends to be hurt. “How much did my life cost?” 

“Two sandwiches,” you answer. 

“I’ll never forgive you.” 

You laugh, and then smile even more when you see Wonwoo has texted you a smiley face. 

Me: Good job, partner, you send him. 

Wonwoo: Just doing good business. 

You turn back to your computer. There’s still another hour until Jeonghan could get on to beat the ender dragon, and it occurs to you that you’ve been playing for nearly four hours. You tell the guys you are going to come back later, signing off and getting out of your chair and stretching. 

You check your phone as it dings. 

Wonwoo: don’t forget to refill your water! 

You frown. You must have mentioned it to him while playing. You grab your water bottle, trying not to overthink the fact that he remembered when even you forgot. The more time you spend around Wonwoo, the harder it is to deny how lovely he is. 

.

.

You stare at the options. You wish Wonwoo hadn’t trusted you to get him something, or that you could have remembered to ask him what he likes, at least what he dislikes. 

You finally choose a BLT and a chicken sandwich and pray he isn’t vegetarian. You scout a table out and snag it, laying your backpack across the seats opposite you to save them. A few minutes later, you see Wonwoo making his way through the crowd of people filling up the dining hall. As he gets closer, you see Jeonghan and Jihoon at his sides. You tell yourself you didn’t notice them because Wonwoo is so much taller. No other reason. 

You wave them over, grabbing your backpack as they slide into the seats, Jeonghan next to you while Wonwoo sat directly across from you. You point to the sandwiches. He frowns but ends up picking the chicken sandwich. 

You slap Jeonghan’s hand away from the BLT. “That’s my lunch!” 

“Why does Wonwoo get one, then?” 

“It’s his payment,” you say, picking up your sandwich. 

“You’re telling me Seungcheol hasn’t whined about his murder to you yet?” Jihoon asks. 

“You know, I sort of tune him out when he starts talking about Minecraft,” Jeonghan says. 

“He is being a little dramatic about it,” you say. 

“You can’t say anything, you're the one that ordered a hit on him,” Jihoon said. “I’d watch your back.” 

“It’s a video game!” You say. 

“You know Seungcheol,” Jeonghan says. “He can hold a grudge when he wants to.” 

Seungcheol and Jeonghan were your first friends in college. Technically you went to high school with them, but you didn’t really become friends until last year, when the three of you somehow ended up at the same school. 

That’s how you know Jeonghan was exactly right. You glance around, suddenly worried that he was going to appear and exact his revenge in the middle of the dining hall. 

“Was it worth it?” Jeonghan asks Wonwoo, who is somehow almost finished with the sandwich. 

Wonwoo shrugs. “I’m not going to lie, the sandwich was a little subpar.” He checks his watch, then nudges you with his foot. “We’re going to be late to lab.” 

You groan. “Why did we let Mingyu convince us to take this horrible class with him?” 

He laughs as you stand up and follow him, grabbing your half eaten sandwich and waving goodbye to Jihoon and Jeonghan. As you walk beside him, you realize this is the first time you’ve been alone with him since you realized your tiny crush. Trying to match pace with his long stride is even more difficult when you are also trying very hard not to think about the way his arms hang on his sides, the way his hands are so close to yours and how easy it would be to slip your fingers in with his. Luckily he seems to notice you struggling to keep up because he starts taking smaller steps. So sweet. 

“So was the sandwich really that bad?” You ask. 

“It’s campus food,” he says. “It’s never good.” 

“That’s true.” 

He glances at you, glasses glinting in the sunlight. “I’m not sure I can really count it as payment.” 

You freeze. “This is extortion! I’ve paid you for your services, you can’t demand more!” 

“I don’t think that’s what extortion means.” He says. “And I’m not saying the sandwich doesn’t count. Just, maybe, a better second payment.” 

“You’re going to make me go broke,” you say. “Well, more broke.” 

He laughs. “Nothing expensive.” He holds the door to the science building open for you and you try not to read into it. 

“What about the café? It’s better than the dining hall,” you say, heading into the stairwell. You catch a glimpse of a grimace across his face as you turn up the stairs. “What is it?” 

“Jihoon’s ex works there and apparently being friends with him means that I’m hated too.” 

You snort. 

“What is it?” 

“I can’t believe Jihoon dated before I did.” 

“It surprises us all,” Wonwoo says. “Though I’d barely call it dating. They broke up after a week because Jihoon is Jihoon and realized his feelings were just superficial and no one really takes it well but his ex… It’s safe to say we mostly just avoid the café on principle.” 

“Noted,” you say. You’re in the hallway outside the classroom now. You really don’t want to go inside, because, seriously, why do three hour long classes exist? Chatting with Wonwoo was an added bonus to avoiding the torture. You idle outside a couple minutes longer but you really are in danger of being late and Wonwoo is starting to look antsy. 

You finally step inside, waving at Mingyu who is already sitting at the table. He’s grinning, as he always is. 

Mingyu was the reason you really had friends. Though you knew Seungcheol and Jeonghan in high school, it was only because of Mingyu that the friendship lasted past your first semester, hanging out with them throughout the spring semester, keeping in touch with them over the summer, and even taking a class with Mingyu. 

Mingyu is the reason you ever met Wonwoo, and, sitting in class and definitely paying attention to the lab introduction and not staring at the back of Wonwoo’s head, you can’t decide if that’s a good thing or not. 

.

.

You can’t remember who suggested it first, but it was Jihoon who ended up making the server, the first day of fall break. It practically belonged to Wonwoo now, since he was by far the person that played the most. You have no idea how he finds the time to play and do his work and sleep, but every time you log on, he has something shiny and new. 

It has been two weeks since the server started. You spent too much of fall break playing and generally leeching off of Wonwoo, but have only logged on a couple times since then. It’s Friday, though, and you even did one of your readings, so you feel like you can afford to spend a few hours working on the base. You aren’t surprised when you log in and Wonwoo is on. 

You’re prepared to play on your own, but Wonwoo asks if you want to join a voice chat and there’s no way you’ll say no. 

“It’s been so lonely,” Wonwoo says as soon as you join. “No one ever plays.” 

“It’s like we’re college students,” you say. You wander around the base, deciding you would keep working on designing the interior with the new types of wood that someone “anonymously” gifted you (you knew it was Wonwoo). 

“The trick is to not do anything until the last possible second,” Wonwoo says. 

“I can’t say that sounds appealing to me,” you say. “What are you doing right now, anyways?” 

“Just prepping for my next project,” Wonwoo says. 

“That sounds vaguely suspicious, should I be concerned?” 

He’s quiet for a moment. Finally, he asks in a low voice, “Can you keep a secret?” 

His voice is just serious enough that you can’t tell if he’s joking or not. “Is this real life or in game?” 

Wonwoo laughs. “This is in game, though I guess the question technically applies to both.” 

“Well, no one knows about the Incident, so at least Mingyu would say yes.” 

“He made a fool of himself, didn’t he?” 

“I’m sworn to secrecy.” 

You decide if making Wonwoo laugh was all you did for the rest of your life it would be worth it. Something about the way his deep voice echoed in your ears made your heart skip a beat. 

“Okay, come to Seungcheol’s base,” he says. 

“The secret one?” You start heading there when Wonwoo says yes. The second day, Seungcheol decided he wanted to have a secret base, which meant in two minutes everyone had figured out where it was. 

At least, where it used to exist. When you get there, Wonwoo is standing around the blown up remains of the Seungcheol’s base, a giant crater created by TNT in the middle of a flower field. 

“What happened?” 

“Jeonghan,” Wonwoo says. 

“You know what, that actually makes sense,” you say. “Didn’t he say he’d only join if Jihoon let him play in creative?” 

“Yeah, that was not happening,” he says. 

“Is Seungcheol’s stuff still there?” You wander around the crater, seeing the remains of what Seungcheol had built, a few chests that remained. 

“I can’t tell,” Wonwoo says. “I’m not really sure what he had to begin with or whether Jeonghan bothered to save his stuff, but the chests that survived seem to be pretty organized.” 

“Wait, I still don’t get how he blew up Seungcheol’s house.” You emerge from the hole, standing at its edge beside Wonwoo’s character. 

“That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out,” he says. “I’ve been on this server, like, almost twenty four-seven and I haven’t even seen him on, so I really have no idea how or when he did it.” 

“Someone must have helped him,” you say. “Oh my god, there’s an entire conspiracy. We have to get to the bottom of this!” 

“Conspiracy?” 

“It’s obviously not Seungcheol,” you say. “He’s going to be so mad when he comes back on.” The sun is starting to set. “Can we sleep through the night? I really don’t want to hide for the next ten minutes.” 

“Sure,” he says. You return to the base with him, mind still racing trying to figure out who was enabling Jeonghan. 

“Obviously it’s not your or me, so that leaves Jihoon and Mingyu.” You think about your two friends. You could see Mingyu doing it, because he was bullied by Seungcheol at least once a day, but usually Jeonghan was also involved, and you know Mingyu’s too busy being a STEM major to really dedicate his time to the game. 

So Jihoon? You don’t think he has much motivation, but he has been playing a lot and maybe he had some unknown score to settle with Seungcheol. 

“We should set up a stakeout or something,” you say. “Figure out who his supplier is.” The iron door swings shut behind you as you and Wonwoo return to the base. 

“A stakeout might be kind of intense,” Wonwoo says. 

“Okay, less of a stakeout and more of ‘you keep playing all day every day and find out if anyone is suspicious’ kind of thing.” 

“This sounds like I’m going to be doing all the work.” 

“Do you not spend most of your time here anyways?” You say. You go into your room and lay in your bed. “Bed!” 

“Okay true,” Wonwoo says as the screen fades. “But I actually have an essay due tomorrow and next week so I can’t really be on as much.” 

“Wonwoo? Being responsible?” You pretend to be shocked but when he laughs and your heart pounds so loud you forget that you were teasing him. 

“So how do we find out who’s helping him?” You ask. “It seems like we don’t have many options.” With the sun back in the sky, you decide you want to work on a tree farm with the generous saplings that had been donated to you. 

“We'll investigate together,” Wonwoo says. “Maybe next time Mingyu or Jihoon will leave evidence.” 

You nod in approval, though he can’t see you. “Sounds good. I’m going to grind resources for a little while if you want to go back to whatever you were doing.” He’s quiet as you both play, the silence between you not awkward but strangely peaceful. He doesn’t complain when you ask him to sleep every night, even reminding you to get back before the sun sets. 

Though you know he’s not nearly as invested as you are, it’s also fun to be in on a conspiracy with him. Maybe it’s just the fact that you have a secret between the two of you, but it makes you feel a tiny bit closer to him. You are finding that everything you learn about him just makes you like him more. 

.

.

“Should I be worried about how much time you’re playing on this server?” You ask as soon as you join the server. 

“No time for that!” Wonwoo says. “I’ve been hit!” 

“No way!” You sprint to his section of the base, and indeed, it’s been blown up. Wonwoo had spent hours personalizing what had initially just been a hole in the wall, designing a bunch of rooms with resources from the nether and the end and creating redstone machines that you didn’t even try to comprehend. 

Most of that is gone now, a crater even larger than the remains of Seungcheol’s base. 

“Oh my god,” you say. “You’ve been nuked.” You join Wonwoo and Seungcheol at the sidelines. It’s been a week since the last attack, and Seungcheol has joined your party of justice. You’re a bit sad that it’s no longer something you had just between you and Wonwoo, but looking at the remains, you couldn’t deny you needed the help. 

You take a step forward and there’s an ominous click. 

“Yn, run!” Wonwoo shouts. You try to run but you panic, pressing the W instead of the S. You hear hissing and it only worsens your panic. 

The first explosion doesn’t kill you but it scares the crap out of you and you can’t help but scream. “Help, help, help!” 

“You’re running the wrong direction!” Seungcheol says. 

“Stop laughing at me!” You groan as you die in the third explosion. Seungcheol doesn’t stop laughing, but what pains you is you can hear Wonwoo chuckling, too. 

“I guess not all of the TNT was blown up,” Seungcheol says through his laughter. 

“Evidently,” you say. “I kind of hate this game.” You click on respawn, heading back to the remains of Wonwoo’s base. You stay as far back as possible. 

“I’m sorry,” Wonwoo says. You can tell he’s still trying not to laugh. Traitor. 

“It’s not your fault,” you say with a sigh. “Though Jeonghan better watch his back.” 

“I’m sure he’s really scared,” Seungcheol says. He wanders carefully around the interior but there doesn’t seem to be any more traps. 

“I have our high school yearbook from freshman year.” 

“Have I mentioned how much I like you? Really, you’re one of my favorite people, ever,” he says. 

“Very convincing,” you say. “Tell Jeonghan to watch his back.” 

“Are the pictures really that bad?” Wonwoo asks. 

You cackle. “I’ll send them to you.” 

“Wait, why does he get them?” Seungcheol whines. 

“We’re partners in… not crime,” you say. “Partners in solving crime? Justice?” 

“That doesn’t sound right but I want to see the pictures, so, whatever you say.” 

“Did you both forget I’m still here?” Seungcheol asks. “Third wheeling?” 

“You’re not a third wheel, you’re a part of the team, too!” You say. “Partnership plus Seungcheol.” 

“That’s literally a third wheel.” 

Wonwoo bursts into laughter. 

“Why am I even here?” Seungcheol sighs. He logs out of the game. “I’m going to do actual homework.” He leaves the voice chat. 

“Did we just annoy him into doing actual homework?” You ask. You are still standing in the wreckage of Wonwoo’s base as he tries to fix it. 

“I guess so,” Wonwoo says. “I don’t think we were actually excluding him or anything, were we?” 

“I didn’t think so,” you say. The problem was, when you talked to Wonwoo, you didn’t exactly pay attention to what you were saying to anyone else. Maybe you should work on that. 

“So, Mingyu or Jihoon?” You ask because it’s been quiet for too long. 

“What?” 

“Which one do you think did it? Or, helped Jeonghan, same difference.” 

“Oh, right,” Wonwoo says. “I’m still not sure, I didn’t notice anything suspicious about either of them.” 

“You aren’t the best at investigating, huh?” 

Wonwoo laughs. “No, I’m really not.” 

“I guess we could just interrogate them.” You wonder if you’re taking this too seriously, and maybe that’s why Wonwoo isn’t answering. “Or, I mean, it is your base that’s been blown up, so we don’t have to do anything that you don’t want to.” 

Wonwoo is quiet a second too long. 

“Sorry, I guess it’s really not that big of a deal,” you say. 

“It’s not that-”

“It’s okay, I just thought it was funny, I didn’t mean to take it so seriously.” 

“Yn-”

“I actually probably should go do some homework too.” You leave the voice chat as quickly as possible, logging out of the game immediately after. It was silly of you to think that Wonwoo wasn’t just entertaining you the entire time, but it still hurt to realize. 

You sigh and turn away from your computer, despite the fact that the homework was not just an excuse and you really did have a lot of it. You just didn’t feel very motivated, instead thinking of how you had to somehow face Wonwoo tomorrow and pretend like you didn’t just get heartbroken over a video game. 

.

.

There’s a gentle poke to your cheek. “You can’t sleep here.” 

“Comfy,” you mumble, burying your face deeper into your arms. 

“Come on, wouldn’t you rather sleep in your own bed?” 

“Sleepy.” 

“Come on.” The hand on your shoulder is gentle, but relentless, shaking you until you finally blink awake, sitting up. You instantly feel sore, stretching the arm that had been your pillow. 

“How long was I out for?” You ask with a yawn. 

“I’m not really sure.” 

You freeze. You are 100% that when you fell asleep studying earlier you had been with Mingyu but that was definitely Wonwoo’s voice. You turn your head slowly, finding Wonwoo standing a couple steps behind you. Your heart does its usual gymnastic routine, though it’s worse because you’ve been awake for all of two seconds and Wonwoo looks picture perfect in his sweatshirt and perfectly combed hair. 

“What are you doing here?” You try to smooth your hair, praying there’s no red marks on your face. 

“Mingyu called because he had… actually he didn’t say what he had, he just said he had to go and that he didn’t want to wake you up, and he just told me to come here and study but the library closes in ten minutes, so we should probably go.” He folds his arm over his chest. 

“Right,” you say. You stand up and stretch a little more, still blinking sleep away. You hate finals week. You stuff your computer into your backpack and try to organize the papers around you. Wonwoo steps beside you, trying to help. 

“Is there an order to this?” He asks, trying to read your scribbled notes. 

“There was once, it doesn’t really matter now,” you say. “The exam is tomorrow and I think I’ve stared at those as much as I can.” He doesn’t say anything else as he helps you gather them and shove them into a folder, sticking it all into your backpack. You turn to leave but he stops you, pointing to the outlet. 

“Is that yours?” 

“Yes, oh my god.” You grab the charger from the wall, tossing it into your backpack. “Thank you, I would have cried if I lost that.” You do a final sweep of the room, not seeing anything else that’s yours. 

“Ready to go?” Wonwoo asks. You make the mistake of glancing at him, leaning against the doorframe with his backpack on his shoulders. He’s been so patient with you it doesn’t feel fair. 

You nod, following him out of the room and falling into step beside him. The sleep is finally starting to wear off, and you are beginning to feel awake. The library is beginning to clear out, though you’re surprised at how many people there still are. 

“How many tests do you have tomorrow?” Wonwoo asks. 

“Just the one.” You sigh as you walk down the steps. “It’s a major requirement but it’s so dumb, it’s not helpful at all.” 

“I’m just happy the science class is over,” he says. “No offense,” he adds quickly. “It was really fun to see you twice a week but I’m never letting Mingyu convince me to take a class with him again, that class was horrible.” 

You shudder, remembering the final. You can only pray that you passed the test. Your memory is so bad you almost miss Wonwoo’s half compliment. “We should celebrate being free!” You stop in your tracks, just before the exit. “Oh my god, I forgot!” 

“Did you leave something in the room?” He asks, turning to face you. 

“No!” You grab his sleeve. “I forgot to pay you!” 

He frowns. “For Seungcheol?” 

You nod. 

“That was just a joke,” he says with a laugh. He tugs your hand off of his arm, pulling you to the library doors. “I felt bad even taking the sandwich.” 

“I can’t believe I forgot!” You say, ignoring his dismissal. The December air is chilly as you step outside and you pull your jacket tighter around your shoulders. 

“You don’t actually owe me anything,” Wonwoo says. “Seriously, it was a joke.” 

“No, but I feel bad, I promised you I would do something for you and I completely forgot about it!” You stop him under a streetlight, laying a hand on his wrist.  Your breath makes little clouds in the air between you, dissipating quickly in the frigid air. Whatever you were going to say, you forget because Wonwoo is staring at you and he’s practically glowing in the bright light, and you are suddenly reminded of the day he tried to save your life. Knight in shining armor is the phrase that comes to your mind. 

Your heart is pounding as you stare at him, unable to look away. His dark eyes, magnified just a little by his thick glasses lenses, stare back at you. Though he’s only a couple of feet away from you, the distance feels like miles. 

His lips look a little chapped in the cold air, and you wonder what it would be like to step a little closer and press yours against his, whether they’d be rough or soft, whether he’d kiss you back. 

You clear your throat. “I’m sorry anyway.” You’re not sure why you say it, but you finally tear your eyes from his, dropping your hand from his arm when you remember it’s there. You wish you could hold his hand. You stumble back for a couple steps before finally convincing your feet to work. You’re vaguely aware of Wonwoo mumbling, “Don’t worry about it,” and falling into step next to you. 

He walks you to your car, neither of you daring to say anything after the strange moment. You’re struggling to think straight, especially with him still at your side. More than anything, you need your bed. 

“I’ll see you later,” he says when you open the door. You force yourself to smile and wave goodnight to him before getting into your car. You lay your head against the wheel, wondering why you can’t just pretend like these feelings don’t exist. 

There was no way Wonwoo didn’t think that was awkward, and you were now going to spend the rest of the night wondering just why you couldn’t stop staring at him when you should be studying for finals. 

Maybe you should just drop out. 

.

.

“It’s not what it looks like!” Wonwoo says. You join the voice chat before your game loads, but before you can say anything, he’s stammering. “I swear, it wasn’t supposed to happen like this!” 

“What are you talking about?” You say, but a second later your game loads and you have no words. When you left a couple days ago, you had been in the middle of your base, logging off after spending a couple hours perfecting the hallway design (the trick was to mix and match the different types of stone). 

It’s all gone now. You spawn in a crater of what you hand spent all your time on, barely recognizable amidst the remains. You see Wonwoo character appear and realize that the explosion had just happened, blocks littered around you. 

“Wonwoo,” you say slowly, trying to understand what was happening around you. Everything you had worked on, gone. 

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” he says again. 

You start to understand, though it doesn’t make sense. “It’s been you? All this time?” 

He says nothing, character in front of you as frozen as you feel inside. 

“I can explain,” he finally says. 

“No, I get it,” you say. “Actually it makes way more sense, you’re the only one who spends enough time to really supply him.” You try not to let the hurt show in your voice. It made perfect sense, really. What you didn’t understand is why he lied, why he played along with you when it was him all along. How many times had you talked to him about thinking it was Jihoon today, or Mingyu the next? You feel embarrassed, now, knowing how stupid you sounded. 

“Jeonghan wasn’t supposed to destroy everything,” he says softly. 

“Is that why you think I’m upset?” You’re not being fair, but you don’t particularly care right now. It shouldn't hurt, but it does. “Because my shit got blown up?” You log out of the game, staring at the discord chat. You and Wonwoo are the only ones online, which is good because you really don’t want anyone walking in on this conversation. 

“You spent the entire time on the server working on it,” he mumbles. 

You laugh. “I spent my entire time on the server hanging out with you,” you say. It’s good you're behind a screen because otherwise you would never have the confidence to do this, even if that made you a coward. “I really don’t care about Minecraft, Wonwoo. I like you.” 

It’s so quiet you can hear your heart pounding over your headphones. You’re frozen, unable to click out of the voice chat though you know the silence is your answer, and every second that he doesn’t say anything means is him trying to figure out how to say that your feelings are unrequited and you just ruined the friendship. 

Okay, completely ruined might be an exaggeration but it won’t ever be the same and it made you sick to your stomach that you had just blurted it out because you were butthurt about a dumb game. 

“Did you really just confess to me over discord?” Wonwoo says. It's always been impossible to decipher how he feels from his voice but you’re going crazy trying to figure out if he really doesn’t sound mad or it's just your wishful thinking. 

 “Um. I guess so?” 

He laughs, that stupid laugh that makes your heart flip in spite of the fact that you’re terrified. “I’m sorry, this is just the worst way to do this, you seriously couldn’t wait one more week?” 

“You really don’t have to make me feel any more stupid than I already do,” you say. 

“Oh my god, no, that’s not what I mean!” He says quickly. “Yn, I like you, too.” 

“Oh.” Oh. 

“I just didn’t think it was the best idea to tell you over discord,” he says. 

“Yeah, that would be really dumb,” you say, trying to get your brain to comprehend anything other than I like you, too. 

“If you waited literally one week, I would have told you in person,” he says. “I had a plan and everything. Actually, I had a plan to do it after finals but I sort of chickened out and then we both went back home and I had to reschedule, but I swear I was actually going to do it.” 

“Right,” you say. “Wait, what? I really have no idea what’s going on, I can’t believe you actually like me back.” 

“You’re an idiot,” he says. “How could I not?” 

You have no answer to that, realizing that any insecurity you tell him would be shot down. 

“I can’t believe this is how I told you,” Wonwoo says. 

“I can pretend I didn’t hear you?” 

You smile at his laugh, his voice sending a shock straight to your heart. “Or we could just meet up the second you’re back?”

“Like a date?”

“If that’s what you want,” he says. “It’s what I want, if I’m not being clear,” he adds quickly. 

You wonder if you’ll ever stop smiling. “Yeah, I definitely want.” Eventually your vocabulary will return. Hopefully. 

“So it’s a date?” Wonwoo asks. 

You open your mouth to answer but there’s a ding and someone else joins the voice chat. 

“Hey, perfect!” Jeonghan says. “Yn, I’m supposed to apologize for blowing up your base, that wasn’t supposed to happen. Actually, that’s what Wonwoo told me to say but honestly I’m really tired of listening to the both of you flirt without actually doing anything and I blew it up on purpose so that I can now say this: yn, Wonwoo likes you. Wonwoo, yn likes you. Have fun!” There’s another ding and he’s gone. 

“I don’t know if I’m more mad that he planned that or that it sort of worked,” Wonwoo says. 

“Yeah, he actually makes no sense,” you say. 

“And yet it worked,” Wonwoo says. You wish you could see the face he’s making now, wondering if he’s smiling like you are. 

“So, it’s a date?” He asks again.

Yes,” you say. “It’s a date.”