this night together - chapter seventeen (j.yh + s.mg)
chapter seventeen: in the days before
chapter summary: to say you're unprepared for your impending heat would be an understatement. you try to get a handle on it before it gets a handle on you.
warnings: anxiety, panic, traumatic heat allusions, actual therapy session with lots of therapy speak, clear parallels between the 'claim attempt' and SA (not explicitly said but it's pretty obvious that's what i'm talking about), big emotions, conversations around consent, references to bdsm color systems and bdsm dynamics, some mild sexual language but no explicit sexual content in this one, gratiutious use of pet names bc her alphas are the most tender hearted boys on the planet i s2g
notes: hi everyone..... i'm kind of sort of back. it's been a struggle to write recently, but all of a sudden i wanted to and here we are. i'm already working on the next few chapters, so hopefully they don't take quite as long as this one did, but thank you so much to everyone who is still keeping up with this story. as a note, this chapter is very transitional, but i think setting up a lot of important things for reader's next heat. hopefully you'll enjoy some angst and fluff as a pre-cursor to more gratuitous smut next chapter..... including..... how the best laid plans often go awry. take your guesses on how that might play out.....
pairings: alpha!yunho x alpha!mingi x omega!reader
small disclaimer: i am not a therapist, but i definitely go to therapy! a lot of the dialogue in that scene may or may not reflect your own therapy experiences, but some of it is directly pulled from conversations i've had with my therapist. that being said, i'm not a doctor, please don't take any of my suggestions on how to cope with trauma literally. be safe out there. <3
The waiting room for your new therapist’s office is cold today, but all of Seoul is cold today. You tuck your cardigan tighter around yourself and nervously bite the inside of your cheek and then take a long sip of water to stop yourself, your hands fidgeting together as you try to just look at the painting across the room.
It’s a wash of swirling hues of blue.
It’s probably supposed to make you feel calm, but all you can picture is rough ocean water, and you look back down at your hands.
Your phone lights up in your lap and you tap the screen.
Deep breaths, babe. — Mingi’s message softens your tense shoulders immediately.
You tap out a quick reply — I’m breathing.
Just remember, last session you came home saying how much you liked her — Yunho’s replies into the group chat.
True — You tap back.
We love you, and I’m picking you up something special for when you get to the studio — Mingi says, and you can already picture a box of sweet confections, you know exactly how he spoils you after living with them for even just a few weeks.
Thank you, baby — You reply.
I’ll pick you up after, okay? Just text me if you need anything — Yunho’s message comes through right as the door to your left opens, and you take one quick second to add a heart to his message so he knows you read it before looking up.
“y/n,” Dr. Kang says as she steps back from the door and opens her palm to welcome you into her office, “come on in,”
You thank her with a bow of your head and slip into the office, still getting used to this new space. Settling in on the plush, dark blue velvet sofa, you find yourself already reaching for one of the throw pillows to set on your lap so you have something in your hands while your insides are pulled out and examined.
She eases into the armchair across from you and gives you a kind expression.
Something about her starts to ease your tension already. Yunho was right, your new therapist is good, and you do like her already. After trying to make therapy work for three sessions with one that didn’t feel quite right and having your tentative progress derailed, Yunho had helped you find another with no questions asked and you ended up with Dr. Kang.
It’s only your fourth time meeting her, but it’s your first of two sessions this week. You booked an emergency session the second you had a moment alone after your heat spike, a knot deep in your gut telling you that this wasn’t something you could just talk through with your partners.
Now you’re sitting on her couch first thing Monday morning, swimming in Yunho’s hoodie and picking at the skin around your nails as she settles into her seat across from you, crossing her legs and resting her hands on the leatherbound notebook on her lap.
She’s a sharp and inquisitive woman, and unlike some therapists, she doesn’t just ask you how you feel about something until you twist yourself into verbal knots coming up with an answer that will appease by the end of the session. She’s quick to interrupt, to dial things back, and to press you harder in ways that are uncomfortable. You wonder if that’s her style with everyone, or if she picked up on the fact that you need that to be able to get out of your own head about these things.
Her calm voice gently interrupts your thoughts, “y/n,” she gives you a gentle, empathetic look, “why don’t you tell me a little bit about why you’re here today?”
“Right,” Your hands drop to your lap, “well, I called your office to see if you could fit me in before work today,”
“Mm,” She nods, “I know how you scheduled, I meant, what made you feel like you needed an additional session this week?”
You nod along with her working yourself up, “It’s kind of a long story,”
“We have plenty of time,”
“Okay,” You tuck your hands under your thighs to keep yourself from fiddling with your cuticles even more, “well, my best friend went into heat and I had to help get his boyfriend, or his… partner, well, actually I’m not sure what they’re calling themselves yet,”
“This is,” She glances at her notebook, “Wooyoung and Yeosang, yes?”
“Yes,” You exhale, relieved that she remembered so easily.
“And how was that experience?”
“Oh,” You shake your head, “fine, they’re fine, but I think being around all those scents, it triggered a heat spike for me.”
Her eyes sharpen, “I see,”
“Yeah,”
“Can you tell me where this spike occurred? Were you with Wooyoung and his pack, or did this happen later?”
”I was with my partners, Yunho and Mingi,” you explain, “my alphas,”
She nods, but leaves the floor open for you to continue.
“It hit out of nowhere, it was like zero to sixty, I was fine, and then I was right in the middle of it,”
“That sounds disorienting,” She offers.
“Very,” You sigh.
“How did your alphas handle the situation?”
That makes you soften, “Really well, honestly,”
She nods again.
“They calmed me down, took care of me,” You pull the pillow closer to your chest, a light heat building in your cheeks when you think about how they had you knotted between them, “it was honestly really good,”
“That’s good to hear,” She smiles this time, genuinely, “from everything you’ve told me so far, your alphas have been prioritizing your recovery and your safety, I’m glad to hear they were able to handle an unexpected heat spike in a way that felt good for you.”
“I was scared,” You clarify, “but they helped me work through that.”
“That’s good,”
A strange flutter rocks in your chest and your eyes flick down, “It was honestly great,” you feel the words coming faster, “we spent the day in bed, and tried a bunch of new stuff. Yunho and Mingi got closer too which I feel like is really good, that’s good for us, and then we all, you know, together, which was great, honestly great.”
“y/n,” Dr. Kang gently but firmly interrupts, “can you tell me what is making you feel anxious? It sounds like there’s more to say about the encounter,”
You grimace, hands tightening on the pillow, “It’s not that,”
“Alright,”
You look back up and meet her steady gaze, “If I’m having a heat spike, that means my real heat is around the corner.”
She nods, “Most likely, yes,”
“I’m,” Emotion catches tight in your throat, “I’m not ready for that.”
“Say more,”
“My heats are hard,” You explain, even though you’ve told her this before, “I get really hazy sometimes, really hazy. The first heat I had with Yunho and Mingi, I don’t remember a good bit of it.”
“Mm,” She nods, “I’m not an omega, but I work with many omega clients as you know. Discomfort or fear surrounding the gaps in memory during heat is a common conversation with many of those clients.”
“Last time,” You feel your heartbeat picking up in your chest at just the thought of it, “I would come to in the middle of a knot, I could hear myself saying things, doing things, I wasn’t even… it’s like something took over my body.”
“Mm,” She hums sympathetically.
“I think because Yunho and Mingi are my scent matches it’s even more intense,” You admit, “biologically speaking.”
“That makes sense,” She nods, “studies show that the effects of heats and ruts are much more intense for scent matched omegas and alphas.”
Your eyes flood suddenly with nervous tears, “So how am I supposed to have this heat?”
“y/n,” Dr. Kang softens, “there are safe places for omegas to experience unassisted heats, or there’s always medical intervention, though I’ll be honest I don’t recommend it.”
“I’m not putting myself in a coma for four days,” You shake your head, “fuck that.”
“I agree, especially in your case. I think that would be retraumatizing; however, it’s important to me that you understand all options available to you so that you can make an informed decision.”
“Fair,”
“Is an unassisted heat something you are unwilling to do as well?” She asks, as carefully as she can.
You nod, “I did that when I was younger, I’m not doing that again. I think it would be worse,”
“Then your heat is coming,”
“And I have to figure out how I’m going to do this.”
Dr. Kang sets her notebook to the side and takes a sip from her nearby coffee, “Well, I have some thoughts, but why don’t you tell me what you’ve been thinking so far.”
You chew the inside of your cheek for a moment as you consider your words, “I’m not sure I’ve figured much out, that’s why I booked today.”
“Hmm,” She relaxes back into the cushions of her chair, “I understand, but I’m not able to tell you how to go about your heat. I can help process the things you’re feeling about it, and offer my guidance on how to communicate with your partners, but I can’t give you a blueprint for avoiding your triggers or for how to come out of your heat feeling a particular way.”
Your hands tighten around each other.
“y/n,” She says, “you know as well as I do, that anyone controlling or dictating how an omega experiences a heat is unnatural. No one knows what you need in heat better than you do.”
You let out a long, tired exhale, “I know,” you admit, “but I was kind of hoping someone could just tell me what to do,”
“Mm,” She nods, “but I’d offer this — I think the last thing you need right now is less agency,”
Your eyes flick down to your clasped hands again.
“Alright,” She picks up her notebook again but doesn’t reference it yet, “tell me, what was good about your first heat with Yunho and Mingi, let’s start there.”
A smile pulls at your lips the second you think of it, and you nod, “It was kind of a mess, I went into heat unexpectedly in the locker room of the studio, and Mingi found me and he and Yunho took me home. We had only known each other for a few months then, but they were… so careful, gentle with me. We talked about everything before we did anything sexual,”
She nods, but doesn’t interrupt.
“It was a hard one, I was off suppressants, but they took care of me. It was more than just knotting, they were treating me like I was already their omega.”
“You mentioned before you had moments of low lucidity,” She prompts you gently, “can you tell me about that?”
“I mean,” You breathe, gesturing with your hand, “it was okay, when those things happened they slowed things down and we were careful. Even in moments where one of them started to get too intense or lost in it, the other would pull them back. It was a little scary, but it was safe. They’d never hurt me,”
She nods again, “You’re sure of that?”
You meet her steady gaze with something firm, a flickering anger in your belly at the idea they’d do anything but keep you safe, “Yes. Of course I’m sure,”
“You trust them,” She comments, “implicitly.”
“Yes.”
“y/n,” She gives you another empathetic, close-lipped smile, “I think you need to prepare yourself for the possibility that this heat is going to be scary and difficult to navigate,”
Your gut tightens.
“But,” She adds, “at the same time you need to remind yourself who you’re with. If you’re sure that Yunho and Mingi would never intentionally hurt you, if you trust them, then two things can be true. This heat can be scary but also a part of the healing process, especially when you have two alphas that you trust to aid you through it safely.”
You swallow, nodding, “I just want it to be like it was,”
She nods.
“I don’t want to be scared,”
“That’s natural,” She murmurs, “but it’s important to remember that part of processing trauma isn’t about making sure you’re never triggered or scared again, it’s about finding ways to respond differently to those triggers and move through that fear safely.”
You can feel the echoes of panic in your gut, the way your body locked up, the way you felt trapped inside yourself, voices muffled through the thick fog of headspace.
You remember Mingi’s hands entwined with yours, braced on Yunho’s chest during your first time together after the attack, his tender voice in your ear reminding you who held you.
You remember the room full of mirrors, no broken glass, no blood, just a room.
With another swallow, you look back up at Dr. Kang, “How do I do that?” You ask, “How do I respond differently?”
“With tools in your toolbox,”
“Like?”
“Breathing exercises for one,” She begins, “and finding safe ways to communicate that you need to slow down or stop what’s happening.”
You make mental notes as she continues.
“For those moments of lower lucidity, finding grounding points that you are able to hold onto, whether that be an item in the room, a sound or song that makes you feel safe, a phrase or a particular mantra that your alphas can use to help root you in the moment,” She offers, “and while I know you and your alphas are regularly having sex and that doesn’t seem to be heavily tangled with triggers, a detailed discussion of sex acts prior.”
“We’ve done that before,” You interject, “kind of,”
“How so?” She gestures with her hand towards you for you to continue.
“For my first heat with them, we talked about what level of touching was okay, if knotting was okay,” You explain, “and then after the attack, the first time we had sex we talked about what things we knew triggered me and how to avoid them,”
“Good,” She nods, “that’s excellent.”
“So we’re definitely clear on stuff like that,”
She raises her hand slightly to interrupt your thought pattern, “Ah,” she says, “no, I’d argue you were clear on previous encounters.”
“Isn’t it all the same?”
She shakes her head, “Not necessarily. You may still feel the same exact way as your first heat, or those triggers you were avoiding, but maybe not. Or there might be additional things you want to do or not do this time. Consent is not something that’s given once, it’s a continuous and evolving conversation.”
She lets that sink in a moment, and you think it through, “So this boils down to talk to them?”
She shrugs, “That’s part of it, definitely, but from everything you’ve told me about your partners, it sounds like they would be receptive to strategizing and talking this out beforehand. I would encourage you to do that together to give you all a firm feeling of safety entering into what is admittedly a very overwhelming time for a pack.”
“Okay,” Your shoulders relax a little, “I can do that.”
“I would also recommend providing my office’s contact information to them. Once your heat begins, I would recommend they reach out to me to schedule an additional session on your behalf for the day after,” She says.
You nod again.
“I’ll offer one particular method that I think may be beneficial for you,” She takes her notebook again, back to the page that is clearly tabbed for your session.
“Okay,”
“Have you ever heard of the traffic light system?” Her head cocks to the side just a little with her question.
You shake your head.
“In BDSM, the traffic light system is regularly used to make sure that consent and comfort is prioritized,” She starts off.
Your eyebrows raise at BDSM, your hands stilling in your lap, “Uh,” you laugh a little awkwardly, “we’re not exactly the whips and chains type of pack,”
She smiles and shakes her head, “y/n,” she says, “you don’t have to engage in traditional BDSM sex acts to find value in some of the methodologies the community employs. You may have also heard the term ‘RACK’, which refers to ‘Risk Aware Consensual Kink’,”
“Not specifically,” Your eyebrows draw together in confusion.
“Two key components in BDSM are awareness and consent,” She continues, “the traffic light system is used to ensure that everyone participating in the pre-negotiated scene or play have the ability to communicate their level of consent and their needs without needing to spell it out or put a damper on the heat of the moment,”
You blink.
“It’s simple,” She says, “You use the three colors of the traffic lights, ‘green’, ‘yellow’, and ‘red’ to indicate to your partners how comfortable you are with what is happening. ‘Green’ means go, ‘yellow’ means slow down and assess, ‘red’ means full stop.”
“Okay,”
“For partners engaging in kinks like BDSM, where maybe part of the allure is struggling, pain, or resistance, something like the traffic light system provides a safe and clear mode of communication, like a more nuanced safe word.”
“That makes sense,” You nod, “but I’m not sure what that would do for us, if I said ‘stop’, they’d ‘stop’, that’s not really my concern,”
“The traffic lights are also easy to remember,” She adds, “they’re in place because during intensive acts of dominance and submission, it can be difficult to find coherence and lucidity. You may not be able to articulate that you are starting to feel overwhelmed in so many words, but you can easily reach for ‘yellow’, a word you wouldn’t say otherwise and is simple and clear in your mind. People have used ‘green’, ‘yellow’, and ‘red’ since primary school. In moments of haziness, for many people, those words can still be recalled.”
“Oh,” Your eyes flick up to hers.
“You and your alphas may not be experimenting with bondage,” She smiles, “but many submissives experience headspace, subspace, even betas and alphas if they’re submitting. Colors are accessible for them and help them, so it’s just one method to consider as you work on strategizing for your heat.
You nod, “That makes sense,”
“If you choose to use it,” She adds, “something you can also do is ask that your alphas prompt you to provide an answer in the form of your color. It’s an opportunity to verbally have that evolving consent conversation in a way that isn’t unsexy or confusing when your emotions or hormones are heightened.”
“So, they say ‘what’s your color?’ and I answer?”
She nods, “Sure, I’d encourage you to find what works and make it your own, but that’s a common method, yes.”
“So then,” You think through her explanation, “in real BDSM relationships, what happens if someone says ‘yellow’ or ‘red’?”
She smiles, and you know you’re asking the right questions, “The specifics would be up to you and your partners, but typically ‘yellow’ would be a pause and verbally reassess together moment, and ‘red’ would be a hard stop that ends whatever is happening in that moment.”
“Got it,”
“It’s certainly not something you have to use if it doesn’t feel right for you and your partners,” She continues, “but I’ve seen it be effective for other omegas who have similar concerns around their heats, it can lend a feeling of control to an otherwise very out of control time.”
You don’t have anything to say, you just have to let that sink in.
“We can keep talking and strategizing in our session later this week,” She adds, “and in every session we have together until your heat.”
“I’d like that,”
Dr. Kang’s eyes glance up to the clock, it’s subtle and practiced, and she smiles, “We’re just about at time,” she says, “your homework for the next few days is to think through the specifics of what feels good and does not feel good to you for your upcoming heat. Consider talking that through with your alphas as well, but if you’re not comfortable with that quite yet we can discuss strategies for talking to them when we meet on Thursday.”
“Okay,” You breathe.
“y/n,” She smiles, starting to stand to signal it’s the end of the session, “you are going to be just fine, and I will be here every step of the way to help process all of it.”
“Thank you,” You manage, “I really appreciate you fitting me in,”
“Of course,” She softens, “and remember to be kind with yourself. Even in a few weeks you’ve made excellent progress, you should be proud of that.”
You’re not exactly sure you’re at proud of yourself territory quite yet, but you’re getting there.
When you walk out of her office, your thoughts are swirling. Yunho’s car is idling close to the entrance of the building, and when he sees you walking out he smiles at you through the windshield.
You give him a quick wave, quickly making your way over through the chilly air and then climbing into the passenger seat. His soothing scent wraps around you as you settle in and turn to him, “Hi, baby,” you murmur.
“Hey,” He replies, smoothing a hand over your thigh, “how was your session?”
“Good,” You manage, “a lot to think about,”
He nods, giving your knee a squeeze, but he doesn’t push you for details, “Buckle up, sweetheart,”
You smile as you clip the seatbelt in place, and he pulls the car forwards.
“Anything you need to talk through?” He checks as he merges into traffic and starts off towards the studio.
“Maybe tonight,” You answer, you’re still parsing through all the things you talked through with her, “but I’m okay,”
He nods, his hands smoothly spinning the wheel as he takes a turn, letting it slide back with ease in his grip. Once he’s steady on a straight road, he reaches back over and twines your fingers with his, never breaking his gaze ahead, “We’re here for whatever you need, okay?”
“I know,” Your thumb passes over his knuckles.
He gives your hand a squeeze, focusing on the road, but after a minute he glances your way, “I’ve got a packed day with New World meetings,” he says, “probably working a little late,”
Your nose crinkles, “Concept meetings all week, right?”
“Mm,” He nods, looking not even a little excited at the prospect of a week spent in board rooms instead of actually moving his body in the studio.
“I’m sorry,” You add, “that sucks,”
“It’s okay,” He shrugs, “but if you and Mingi need to get home early, take a taxi. I’ll pay for it, you don’t have to hang around just for me,”
“Kay,” You lift his hand, pressing a kiss to the back, “we’ll get dinner going for you,”
He softens and smiles, squeezing your hand once more before he pulls it back to the wheel to take the turn into the KQ parking garage, “I’ll never say no to dinner,”
Here, you can both sink into routine.
Yunho walks you inside, both of you nearly hip to hip. It’s instinct now, the way he stays close enough to touch you without crowding you. His hand hovers at your lower back, the warmth of him bleeding through your sweatshirt, and the steady comfort of his scent is a guiding force when your mind feels like it’s fraying.
You barely make it five steps through the main studio doors when you realize how alive it is today. You can hear New World’s next comeback thumping through the wall of the main studio room where they film their content, and your fellow dancers are all on the move towards their own respective studios or offices to get on with the day. Someone laughs loudly from down the corridor, the sound bright and sharp, immediately undercut by the sound of one of New World’s members calling eight counts.
You don’t have to look through the rooms to know who’s not here.
You’ve talked through every angle of his cycle, and Wooyoung’s heat is still sure to be in the thick throes of it. You can practically feel the empathetic echo of it in your own body just thinking of him. The pain, the aches, the slick heat, the endless wanting. You know exactly what he’s feeling right now.
And yet, your eyes glance through the first open door as you walk up the hall, “They’re not back yet?” You murmur, almost to yourself.
Yunho glances down at you, and then follows your line of sight, “Hm?”
“Just,” You shake off the question, you already know the answer, “Woo, Hwa, and Sannie.”
He hums, nodding, and this time his hand does rest on the small of your back, “No, not yet.”
Your chest tightens a little.
You think of the way you left them, Yeosang disappearing into uncharted territory and San and Seonghwa’s eyes fixed on him in a way you’d never seen from them before. They looked at him with such an exacting expression, not quite like a threat, something more akin to prey, their alphas stirring close to the surface and awareness flickering awake under their skin at someone new in their dynamic. You hope to hell that things fell into place once they all made it to Wooyoung’s nest, but you just don’t know.
You know how fast a heat can turn, how overwhelming it can be, how out of control.
There’s always medical intervention.
You shake that thought off as fast as it comes, but your stomach dips anyways, an uneasy curl in your belly.
“I’m sure they’re fine,” Yunho adds after a long beat of your silence, reading the shift in you as you make it to the back office door.
“They are,” You agree, because they are, they have to be, “I just…,”
Yunho watches the way you trail off, the way your eyes go a little unfocused.
I think you need to prepare yourself for the possibility that this heat is going to be scary and difficult to navigate.
Your therapist’s voice bubbles up again, and your eyes flick down and away from your alpha in a flash. Your body feels like a ticking time bomb, Wooyoung’s heat only making your own impending one seem properly tangible now. Scary and difficult to navigate is an understatement, an impartial third-party’s divorced way of saying that your worst fears are right.
That’s unfair, you know it is, but you hate this. Your body feels wrong, and you can’t tell if it’s because you’re close enough to taste your heat or if it’s psychosomatic, a self fulfilling biological prophecy. Every twinge in your back, every ache of your muscles, could be nothing or could be a whispered preview of what you already know is coming.
You watch Yunho’s hand tighten and release, but his voice is infinitely soft, “You can tell me anything.”
“I know,” The words are a reflex, and they roll easily off your tongue.
He watches you for a moment more and then lets it drop, and because the studio always seems to keep moving around you, you shift focus and ground yourself in the only thing you can.
While Yunho is stuck in New World concept meetings, your day, your life all the time really, is starting to be fully consumed with the impending debut of the girl group. It’s still seven months away, but in this industry that practically feels like tomorrow, especially for a debut.
Yunho catches your hand before you leave the office and pulls you back for a moment, pressing your water bottle into your hands, freshly filled, “Hydrate today, okay?”
You’re staring down the barrel of multiple dance practices and run throughs, and your body will be moving hard all day. You nod, giving him a slight smile, “I will,”
“I’ll find you for lunch if I can too,” He adds, “you need to eat,”
“Yunho,” You start, but at the sound of someone in the hallway you turn your head to catch Mingi walking towards you.
“Hey,” He grins at the sight of you, his pace picking up to meet you at the door and press a kiss to your lips, “Morning, baby,”
“Hi,” You soften.
“Stay one second,” He says, stepping into the office and dropping his bag on the desk to pull open the top zipper, “how was your session?”
“Good,” You answer automatically.
“Yeah?” He says as he pulls a white pastry bag from his duffle, “That’s good,”
“What’s this?” You take the bag he offers and smiles, starting to unroll the top.
“A treat,” He smiles, and then finally looks over to Yunho, “all good?”
“Mm,” Yunho nods, “busy day,”
“Yeah,”
Inside the bag is the cutest pastry, flaky layers of croissant and matcha cream, sliced strawberries and jam, and pink little bear adorning the top. You smile up at him, “Mingi,” you reach into the bag, “is this from that place I like?”
He nods, “Thought you could use something sweet after this weekend,”
Studies show that the effects of heats and ruts are much more intense for scent matched omegas and alphas.
The words echo once again in your mind, and you try not to let your face fall. Your stomach does an anxious somersault, and you leave the pastry in the bag, wrapping the top back up, “Thank you,” you tell him as you set the bag aside on the desk, “I’ll have it in a bit, I’m late to get this session started with Dahan,”
There’s the barest twinge of Mingi’s eyebrows, just a split second where you see that he’s questioning things, and Yunho’s eyes are still locked on you, but they don’t push.
“Alright,” You take a sliding step back towards the hall, “well, I’ll see you later,”
You don’t wait to hear their next words. Instead, you hurry down the hall for the booked Studio room, and try your best to put it all out of your mind.
The trainees for Violet Prism, the new girl group, are all ready and waiting when you make your way into the room, stretching and preparing for a long day of work. Dahan is already set up by the time you make it in, scrolling through something on the desktop computer in the corner, and before you know it, you’re in the thick of the day.
The girls are working hard, that much is clear. They have a hunger and a drive that you only ever see in trainees and rookies, a willingness to push themselves to the absolute limit at the expense of their own health, but they’re also still unrefined, still learning.
“Five, six, seven, eight,” The count leaves your lips automatically as you clap your hands sharply, trying to snap their attention back to center. The music pulses, the song you’ve been working on with them looping again, and the cluster of girls scramble back into their positions.
Their maknae bows quickly in apology at spacing out, but you shake your head to dismiss her concerns.
“It’s okay,” You assure, “let’s just reset from the top of the chorus,”
The girls step into formation while you give them a little room, moving towards the mirrored wall. A dull twinge flares up your back, and your jaw tightens. You’ve been on your feet for hours, it’s surely just that, but after this weekend, the hyperawareness sits in your chest.
“Ready?” Dahan calls from the other side of the studio.
The girls nod and so do you and the music starts again.
You force your focus on counts, spacing, and the sharpness of their lines instead of the unpleasant ache in your back and the anxious sensation low in your abdomen. It’s easier when you’re working, and when there’s something tangible for you to correct.
“You’re all missing the timing on the second turn,” You call, “run it back.”
You go again, and again, and again for good measure. You show them what they’re missing in the steps, in the synchronicity of their timing.
Lunch passes, and you ignore your phone on the back table even though it’s sure to be buzzing with texts and reminders from your alphas to care for yourself.
The studio lights feel warm, or maybe it’s your skin. It’s hard to tell after this long, and your shirt sticks unpleasantly to your back. You reach up to tighten your ponytail a little higher, and the movement pulls at your spine enough to make you wince.
Your heat is coming.
Your therapist’s voice whispers, a blunt reminder of what you already know.
“Let’s take fifteen,” Dahan calls the stop before you do, “that run was much better, we’re getting there.”
The girls collapse into heaps, groaning, exhausted, and chugging down water.
A bead of sweat rolls from your neck down your chest, and your breath starts to feel tight.
“I’ll be back,” You move quickly, but calmly, grabbing your water bottle on the way out the door. With precision you make a beeline for the bathroom and shut yourself inside, bracing yourself on the closed door and flicking the lock closed so you can have a moment alone.
You drag in a breath to steady yourself, to try to search your own sensation out to see what’s anxiety and what’s more.
A quick knock on the door startles you, and you stammer out a reply, “Just a second!”
Yunho’s voice comes through like a salve, “Baby? It’s me, let me in,”
You fumble with the lock and pull the door open, “What are you doing here?”
He steps in and shuts the door behind him, his hands coming to your face so he can get a good look at you, “I was in the hall, you pushed right past me,”
“Oh,” You blink, you didn’t even see him.
His brows are pulled together in concern, and he lifts your water bottle, “Drink,”
You take a long sip, hoping that the cold water might settle the restless buzzing underneath your skin, but if anything it just makes you more aware of yourself. Your body feels loud, you can feel the thump of your pulse and the knots in your stomach, and you hate it.
“You’re pushing yourself too hard today,” Yunho says.
You glance up at him, “You’re not even in my session today,”
“I don’t need to be in the session to know that, y/n,”
Annoyingly, you know that’s true. Your eyes flick down again, “I’m fine,”
“When you say that,” Yunho points out gently, “that usually means the opposite.”
A tiny flicker of heat prickles behind your eyes, and you press your lips together hard enough to stop yourself from reacting to the concern threaded through his voice. You don’t want to do this here, today, and you can’t go back to a rehearsal room and see your composure cracking in the mirrors when you have work to do.
You especially don’t want to do this when your omega already feels close enough to the surface that every protective note in Yunho’s scent catches against your ribs and begs you to climb into his arms.
“I said I’m okay, Yunho,” You manage, “I just needed a minute.”
He studies you for a long moment, but just like this morning, he relents. With a sigh he nods, “You’ll tell me when you’re not?”
“Yes,” You meet his gaze, “I promise.”
His eyes flick over your expression.
“I just can’t really think about this right now,” You tell him honestly, “I don’t have room for it.”
“Alright,” He leans in, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “I understand.”
“I have to get back,” You take another sip of water, mostly to appease him, and wait for him to move out of the way of the door.
Yunho makes space, and you hurry back to practice.
Work resumes, but your body still feels tense, and the next two hours crawl by.
You normally love this part of the dance process. The repetition, the gradual sharpening of each detail, watching the moment when a dancer finds it and commits it to muscle memory. Today, everything just feels slippery in your hands. Your concentration is drifting too easily, your body aching in strange little flashes that you can’t help but spiral about, and it doesn’t help that Yunho keeps finding reasons to stop by the studio room.
He disguises it well, picking up items he’s left, dropping off items for New World who has the room booked later, even just passing by outside the door and peering in through the glass.
Halfway through demonstrating an arm pathway, showing the girls exactly how the line of their body should extend and arc in the mirror, a cramp tightens in your lower stomach enough that you have to disguise the hitch in your breath as a cough.
From the back of the studio, you watch Yunho watching you. No one else notices the real source of the discomfort, but he does, and he narrows his eyes the second he sees the expression on your face.
You shake your head, but the look he gives you in return promises that this conversation is far, far from over.
By the time rehearsal ends, your nerves feel sanded raw from sheer hyperawareness.
Yunho is locked in meetings at the KQ Offices for his afternoon, giving you a blissful moment to just breathe into the sensations of your body and try to figure out if you’re on edge because of the panic or because of your impending heat.
So this boils down to talk to them?
Your question from earlier today flits through your mind, “Fuck,” you curse softly, rubbing at your tired eyes.
You find your phone where it’s been sitting, face down on the desk, and read the string of text messages.
In your pack group chat, there are three messages waiting:
I should get home around 8 if these meetings wrap up on time. – Yunho
Yep. I’ll start dinner. – Mingi
Babe I’m ready in the office when you’re good to go. – Mingi
You tap back a quick reply and let him know you’re packing up, and then you see the single direct message from Yunho, just a private note from him to you.
You worked hard today, you did well today. Please eat something substantial with some protein, drink your water, and don’t forget to stretch. I love you.
Your chest tightens a little, and you send back a heart, before finding your other Alpha and getting out of the studio for the night. By the time you step out into the cool early evening air, the sharpest edges of your anxiety have dulled, but it’s still there like a weight in your gut.
Mingi fixes the loop of your scarf while you wait for the car that will take you home.
“Tired?” He asks gently.
“A little,”
For a moment you wonder if he’ll ask about your session, if he’ll poke and prod and fuss over you like Yunho did, but he doesn’t.
Instead, Mingi reads you like he always does, “How was rehearsal?”
The anxiety softens a little more and you lean into his side, “Long,” you sigh.
Mingi talks about work the whole way home, and when you tell him you’re going to decompress in the shower, he lets you go with ease. As you pass your nest, the door ajar, your stomach tightens. Somewhere in the back of your mind you file that away, just like you file away the sudden urge to move the fluffy pillows from the right side to the left side of the room.
Instead, you reorganize the bathroom medicine cabinet while you wait for the shower to heat up.
The water runs hot, and you take an extra twenty minutes under the steady beat of the water to try and relax your muscles, to let the day sluff off, and to calm your omega, but it only sort of works. After, when you’re dressed in softer, cozier clothes, you pad out into the kitchen with your mind still hitching over and over on your therapy session like a skipped record.
In the kitchen, Mingi’s focused, touching a clean fingertip to the sauce he’s mixing before swiping it off with his tongue, tasting it to gauge its flavor. He lets the flavor sink in, and then he reaches for the sesame oil to add a dash more.
You lean against the door frame, watching him move about the kitchen with ease, but then he glances to the side and sees you.
“Hey,” He waves you in, setting an onion onto a cutting board, “come chop for me,”
“‘Kay,” You slide into position as his sous chef and pull a knife off the magnetic strip on the wall.
Mingi steps away to check on the chicken that’s parboiling on the stove and you cleanly slice through the onion and remove the papery husk to start chopping.
“Dakdoritang?” You ask, glancing over the ingredients.
“Mhm,” Behind you, you hear the musical sound of the rice cooker as he queues it up, “this time I double checked the salt, I promise,”
You smile, your knife sliding cleanly through the onion again and again.
Mingi shifts back to your side, “Tch,” he makes the sound with his tongue against his teeth, “careful, babe,”
You lift your knife, glancing up at him, and he covers the hand that rests over the onion, prompting your fingers to curl so that when you cut the side of the knife only brushes your knuckles, no chance of cutting your fingertips. You roll your eyes a little, “It’s harder like this,” you grumble, but keep your hand in that shape as you continue to chop.
“Yeah,” Mingi shrugs, “but this way I’m not calling Yunho to tell him dinner’s cancelled because our omega sliced off a finger,”
“Mingi,” You sigh, but the smile doesn’t leave your lips.
“Humor me,” He says, pulling a few carrots and potatoes out to queue those up for you to chop next.
“Mm,” You murmur, and keep working on the vegetables while Mingi finishes the sauce. Everything’s relaxed for a few minutes, just the smooth slice of your knife and the bubbling pot on the stove.
When he gets the sauce mixed in with the chicken to simmer and you’re almost finished with the carrots, Mingi’s fingers brush down your spine, “You’re quiet today,” he comments gently.
“Am I?” You murmur.
“Mm,” He nods, “you’re stressed,”
“I’m alright,” You reply, biting the inside of your cheek, letting the knife come down a little too firmly through a carrot with a sharp sound.
Mingi hums softly, his warm chest pressed against your back now, and he reaches around to still your hands and slide the knife away, “You are,” he counters gently, “you smell bitter, and you’ve been fidgeting all day.”
His words pull a long, tired exhale from you, and you lean back into his arms, “Yeah,”
“You can tell me anything,” He says, his lips pressing to the crown of your head.
“I know,”
“So what’s going on in your head?” He prompts you.
Your body starts to slowly relax into his, and you finally let the words come, “My heat’s coming,” you confess, “fast,”
Mingi stiffens a little, craning his neck to look down at your face, “How fast?”
“I’m not sure,” You say honestly, “but I caught myself wanting to nest before I got in the shower, and with the spike, I think I’m ahead of schedule,”
“Okay,” His arms tighten, and he drops his chin onto your shoulder despite how much he has to bend over to do it, “you know we’ve got you, right?”
“I do,” You nod, “but I… I still don’t think I’m ready for it.”
“You’re afraid,” Mingi observes.
Your fingers curl against the counter, emotions tugging at your chest and you nod, “Yeah,”
“Come here babe,” Mingi gently spins you so that you’re facing him, his hands ginger on your jaw as he tilts your face up.
“I’m okay,” The words leave your lips but the tone of your voice, the haziness in your eyes, it all betrays you.
“Oh, baby,” His brows draw together in a sympathetic expression, his glasses slipping down his nose a little but he makes no move to fix them, “no, you’re not.”
You swallow tightly, your throat constricted with the threat of tears and you shake your head, just a little.
“What happened in your session?” Mingi’s thumb brushes tenderly along your cheek.
“Uh,” You clear your throat, pulling away a little to wipe your eyes with the sleeves of Yunho’s crewneck sweatshirt that you stole out of the laundry, “we talked, I mean, the session was good, but it’s making it really real,”
Mingi studies your face for another moment, and then he nods, “Alright, hold on,”
Your brows knit together as you watch him quickly get the food to a place where it’s just simmering on its own without needing him to pay close attention. He works efficiently, completely focused, before wiping his hands off on the towel slung over his shoulder and coming back to stand in front of you.
“Mingi?” You look up at him.
Without a word, he reaches for you and picks you up by your waist, dropping you down onto a clean spot on the counter and stepping forward between your open knees.
You brace yourself on his shoulders, a little squeak of surprise bubbled from your lips when he drops you.
“One more second,” He leans forward and presses a close lipped kiss to your lips and then pulls out his phone.
He opens up your pack group chat and taps out a quick message – @Yunho come home.
“He’s working,” You shake your head, reaching for his phone, but Mingi just clicks send and then holds it out of your reach high above your heads.
“I don’t care,” Mingi shrugs, “something’s wrong with our omega,”
A little piece of you melts, but you sigh and rest your hands on his chest, “It’s not an emergency,”
One of his eyebrows raises.
“It’s not,” You insist.
Mingi exhales, tucking his phone in his back pocket and resting his broad hands on your thighs, “Maybe it’s an emergency, maybe it’s not,” he concedes, “but your heat is coming and it’s scaring you. We’re your alphas, and we are not going to shrug that off, okay?”
You manage a nod, “Okay,”
For a moment, neither of you speaks. Mingi watches you carefully, and you take the moment to breathe. You listen to the bubbling pot on the stove and the way fresh rain has started tapping sharply against the apartment windows.
“Your session,” Mingi finally asks, “you talked about your heat?”
You nod once.
“And?”
Your hands close on the cuffs of Yunho’s sweatshirt. “We talked about a lot of things,” You start, searching for the right words to make this make sense to him, “we talked about control, I guess.”
Mingi’s expression stays open, patient, and he nods, “That’s a scary word when it comes to heats,”
You release a humorless little laugh, “Exactly.”
He waits. It’s one of the things that Mingi does best when you get overwhelmed. Where Yunho tends to push gently forwards, nudging you to speak before you disappear too far into yourself, Mingi waits you out instead, he lets the thoughts untangle themselves at their own pace.
“I just keep thinking about last time,” You admit softly.
His hands still, now just resting on your thighs, “Minseok?” He asks carefully.
“No,” You shake your head, “no, my heat,”
Understanding settles in his eyes, “Oh,”
“Bits of it are blurry,” Your throat tightens, “not all of it, I remember some of it, but there’s pieces that feel…,” you search helplessly for the right description, “floaty,”
Mingi listens without interrupting.
“Logically, I know that’s normal,” You keep going, “and Dr. Kang said it’s normal for instincts to take over during intense heats and ruts, especially scent matched ones, but, it’s just,”
His eyes flick over your face, and when you can’t find the word this time, he fills in, “It doesn’t feel normal to you, though,”
“No,” You sigh, “it doesn’t,”
“Yeah,” His hands smooth up and down your thighs again, encouraging you forward.
“In my session,” You manage, “she asked me if I was afraid of going into heat, or afraid of losing control during my heat.”
“And?” Mingi asks gently.
You shake your head, eyes finding the ceiling when you can’t quite look him in the eyes, “I’m terrified,” you confess, “I’m so scared of not remembering things,”
“Baby,” Mingi’s face softens, his body leaning towards yours like a gravitational pull guiding him closer.
“I know how intense things get,” You keep going, letting it all out now that the words finally come, "Instincts come over, and then you’re in the haze of it, but what if I go too deep? What if I disappear into all of that and I don’t know what’s happening around me? To me?”
Mingi’s jaw flexes once as he takes in your words.
“What if I lose time?” The question hangs in the air, exposing all your innermost fears, and then you look up at him, “What if I wake up after and feel like my body made choices without me?”
Mingi’s brows draw together, a pained expression raw on his face now, and he slides his hands up to cup your hips, “Is that what’s been eating at you today?” He asks.
You nod.
“You were so ‘on’ at work today,” He observes, “intense even,”
Heat floods your face immediately, “You noticed that?”
“Mm,” He nods, “baby, I know you. You’re my omega, I notice everything,”
Your head dips, “God,”
“And me and Yunho do talk,” Mingi smiles a little, drawing your gaze up with his hand gently on your chin, “we are doing our best not to be overbearing, but we knew something was up.”
“Yeah,”
His thumb smooths along your jaw, his eyes going soft again, “You want to know what I think?”
Your eyes lock to his.
“I think you’re trying really hard to stay anchored to yourself right now,”
A tight sensation curls in your chest.
“I think that somewhere in your brain you decided that if you organize enough things, control enough things, stay disciplined and vigilant and push through the things your body is trying to tell you, maybe this heat won’t be able to sweep you away.”
The sensation in your chest throbs, a deep ache, “I…,” you shake your head, your voice a soft whisper, “Mingi, I don't want to disappear,”
“You won’t,” He murmurs, his hand sliding forward to cup your neck, his thumb still tender on your cheek.
“How can you possibly know that?” You breathe.
“You didn’t disappear last time,” He offers.
Your brows pull together and you open your mouth to tell him all the reasons why this is different, but this time he doesn’t let you spiral.
“No, listen to me,” He shakes his head, “your last heat with us, we were practically strangers. Your body was under an incredible amount of stress, and you placed your trust in us without a whole hell of a lot to go on.”
“I–,”
“Your instincts took over,” He keeps going, “and your omega was right at the surface. You needed things from us, you acted without thinking, but you were still you. You were always you, even in the haze,”
You blink at him.
“You may not remember every second of your heat, but I do, baby,” He presses, “me and Yunho know exactly what happened in that room,”
“But I–,”
“You were with us,” He holds your gaze on him, “you made choices. You said what you wanted and said what you didn’t. You communicated the whole time, even when you were floating. Despite the situation and how scary that probably was for you, trusting us to hold you like that, you didn’t disappear. You were never just a body, or just an omega, never.”
Emotion catches in your throat, “But that was before Minseok tried to…” you can’t say it. You both know what he did, what he would have done after, “I’ve panicked with you both after that, it’s different now,”
Mingi nods, “I know that,” he says without an ounce of defensiveness, without dismissing you, “I’m not saying we pretend that fear doesn’t exist, or that trauma hasn’t changed you and us,”
The tension behind your ribs relaxes just a little.
“You are expecting yourself to handle this perfectly,” He murmurs, shaking his head a little, “and you and I both know that you would never expect that from anybody else that you love.”
Tears prick at the back of your eyes, hot and tight.
With a gentle hand, Mingi smooths your hair back from your face and steps a fraction closer between your open knees, “If you panic during your heat, we will help you through that. If you get overwhelmed, we will slow down.”
The hand on your hip slides up to cup your waist, and Mingi rests his forehead against yours.
“We were made to keep you safe, baby,” He whispers, “and we will move heaven and earth to do that,”
You reach for him, your hands knotting into his t-shirt, and when you inhale it’s with a soft, wet sound, “But what if get lost in my own head, Mingi, I can’t go there again, I can’t,”
“Honey, look at me,” His voice breaks as he pulls back, cupping your face, “if you go away again, we will come get you.”
Tears slip down your cheeks, “Mingi,”
“There is nowhere you could go,” He promises you steadily, “not even inside your own head, that we wouldn’t follow you.”
You sink into his chest, a sob caught on your lips, cheeks hot with embarrassment, with shame, but Mingi just gathers you closer and cradles you to his chest.
“Baby,” He murmurs against your hair, “hey, hey, it’s okay, I’m here,”
Your forehead presses against his sternum and you shake your head, “I hate this, I hate being this scared.”
“I know,” He soothes.
“I know you’d never hurt me,” The confession tumbles out, messy and tangled, “I know you’d keep me safe, but I don’t want to lose control like that. I don’t want to be locked inside my head, I don’t want to f-feel him on top of me again, I… I can’t,”
“Breathe,” Mingi holds you tighter, “breathe with me right now,”
You suck in a staggered breath against the wet cotton of his shirt.
“It’s okay to be scared, and I know you are terrified, but he is never, ever going to touch you again, never.” His words are firm, unequivocal, “and if your body gets confused, we will find a way through it. But honey, your heat is coming, and suppressing your instincts and pretending your omega doesn’t need things is going to make this worse, not better.”
“I just want this to be normal,” You admit softly, still steadily breathing with him.
“When have we ever had normal,” He kisses your hair, “hmm?”
You let out a wet laugh into his chest.
Mingi gently uncouples your bodies enough to look down at you, wiping away your tears gently with the pad of his thumb, “I want our not normal,” he says, “I want our hard days just as much as our good ones. As long as we’re together, we will be okay, I can promise you that.”
You wipe away the remnants of your tears, nodding and letting out a shaky exhale, and then you sink forward and lean your forehead on his again, tucked close together in the warmth of the kitchen. Your heart rate starts to settle, the knot inside you relaxing again, and you nuzzle Mingi’s nose with yours, “You really like me that much, huh?”
He huffs a light laugh with an exhale through his nose, shaking his head, “Shut up,”
“I’m just saying,” You tease him gently, leaning back and fixing him with a look, “that was kind of a declaration.”
“You’re my mate,” He says simply, the corner of his lips pulled up in the slightest smile, “there’s nothing casual about how I feel about you, and you know it.”
“Good,” You tug him forward with your fingers fisted in his shirt and lock your lips to his.
Mingi leans into you, strong arms wrapping around your back. He hums against your lips, a steady vibration that sends a pleasant shiver down your spine.
“I love you,” You whisper against his lips.
“I love you too,” He says in a breath, kissing you again and holding you close.
Just as you feel your body start to unspool with the relief of giving your fears to him to hold, the sharp sound of your front door banging open breaks you both apart with a start.
Mingi tenses, his lips breaking from yours as he turns, but then you hear Yunho call out, “Mingi? y/n?”
You let out a breath, smiling with a little relief that it’s just Yunho.
The door slams shut equally as hard though and you and Mingi exchange a quick, worried glance at each other.
“Baby?” Yunho calls again, clear concern threaded through his tone.
“We’re in here,” Mingi calls out, “in the kitchen,”
Yunho’s there in a flash, his expression tight and his eyes scanning you both like he’s searching for a threat, for an injury.
“Hey–,” you start to say, but Yunho muscles his way past Mingi and wraps you tightly in his arms, yanking you off the counter and crushing you to his chest.
“You’re alright?” He checks, his hand cupping the back of your head, his heart hammering against your chest where you’re pressed together.
“Why wouldn’t I be alright?” The words are muffled by his shoulder.
“She’s fine,” Mingi assures, one hand landing on Yunho’s back.
He releases a shuddering breath, reaching back with one arm to find your other alpha, “Min,” Yunho manages, his voice hoarse, “you’re good?”
“I’m fine,” Mingi smiles, patting Yunho’s hand where it landed on his waist, “are you okay? What’s wrong?”
“You texted ‘come home’,” Yunho pulls back enough that he can see your face, studying you once more like he just has to be sure, before letting you back down on your feet and stepping back to face you both, “and then you didn’t answer any calls,”
Mingi grimaces, “Shit,” he reaches for his phone, “sorry, no we’re fine,”
Yunho’s jaw tightens and releases, “You scared the shit out of me,”
“I’m sorry,” You soften, reaching for him, “we didn’t mean to worry you.”
He lets out a long, relieved exhale, and drops his head, shaking it, “Fuck,” he says, “you two are going to put me in an early grave,”
“We’re okay,” Mingi reiterates, squeezing Yunho’s shoulder, “and you know I’ve got her, she’s safe with me,”
Yunho’s brows draw together as he lifts his head, “I know that,” he sighs again, an echo of the adrenaline still humming off him, “I just… I don’t know what I thought, I was worried,”
“I’m okay,” You promise.
“After today, with everything going on,” He shakes his head, clearly rattled, and then he takes in your expression fully, “you’ve been crying,”
“We’re okay,” You reiterate softly.
Yunho searches your face before wrapping you up in his arms again, only this time with your back pressed to his front, pressing a long kiss to your hair, “Talk to me, what’s with the text?”
You feel bad now, the idea that he rushed home, likely leaving a meeting just to make sure his pack was still whole, still well. The briefest flash of the practice room echoes back to you, Yunho’s face above yours, his face stricken and terrified.
“I texted because we need to talk,” Mingi says, crossing his arms and looking between you both, “as a pack.”
“Mingi,” You complain weakly, “don’t scare him,”
“Too late,” Yunho says, his arms still wrapped tightly around you from behind, the frantic edge that came through the front door is still lingering under his skin, adrenaline and his alpha instinct tangled together in a sharper, more heady scent than his normal cedar and rain.
“She’s been spiraling since therapy,” Mingi sums up, “and we talked, but there’s things we all need to talk about together,”
Your lips press closed.
Yunho’s nose brushes slowly against your temple as he curls around you, “What happened in the session?”
“We talked about my next heat,” You say after a moment, brushing your hand along his forearm to keep him calm.
Mingi adds the rest, “The spike probably means her real heat is closer than we thought,” his voice is gentler now, guiding Yunho into the conversation.
Yunho’s quiet for a moment, and then he exhales slowly through his nose. You feel his posture adjust, it’s subtle, but present, his attention now fully attuned to you as his omega, not just as his girlfriend.
“How fast?” Yunho asks carefully.
“I don’t know,” You shake your head, “but I’m feeling my omega more,”
Mingi nods, “Nesting urges,”
Yunho’s head lifts up, “Already?”
“A bit,” You concede.
He’s quiet, and you twist a little in his hold to look up at him. His expression is calculated, the same face he gets when he’s in rehearsals or choreography meetings and he’s already five steps ahead trying to solve a problem before anyone else even realizes it's there to begin with.
After a moment he nods, “We’ll handle it.”
“The other part though,” Mingi says, “is that the closer it's getting, the more she’s thinking about last time.”
Yunho’s hand slips under the hem of your sweatshirt and rests on the bare skin of your waist, “You’re worried about the haze, aren’t you?”
“Yeah,” You nod, your throat tightening at how quickly he knows that, how closely he must be watching you to know that without having to hear anything at all.
He presses a firm kiss to the crown of your head.
“It scared me before,” You explain, “not knowing where parts of it went, the way it came back to me in pieces,”
Yunho’s grip tightens a little, something instinctive and protective in the way he holds you, but he just nods and says, “I know, sweetheart,”
You lean your body weight into him, letting out a slow exhale. You remember so many little flashes of your heat with them, and your mind trips over static images in a sudden rush. Yunho holding your wrists gently against his chest to keep you focused on the beat of his heart, Mingi murmuring steady softness into your ear, coming back to yourself in slow, disconnected pieces, their scents wrapped around you so thick it was impossible to think about anything outside of their arms.
“Just,” You let your head fall back against his chest, “Yunho, what if this time it’s worse?”
“What if this time it’s better?” He counters gently.
Mingi smiles softly, but you shake your head, “Yunho,”
“You’re safe with us, you’re in love with us, this time we’re going into this as a pack,” He points out, “your next heat will be different in good ways too.”
“Good point,” Mingi leans against the counter next to you both, “he’s right about that, babe,”
That hadn’t occurred to you at all. Your first heat after a scent match is supposed to be a beautiful thing. The way a pack moves together, breathes together, in complete sync and safety, you hadn’t even let yourself entertain that as an option.
“I’m sure Mingi said this,” Yunho slides another hand under your sweatshirt, his hands spread wide over your ribs, your stomach, the direct comfort of skin on skin for your both, “but we will get you through this heat, sweetheart. We’re yours, you’re ours, this is what we do.”
“I know you will,” You sink into him, your eyes flicking up to meet Mingi’s gaze.
“And,” Yunho adds gently, “if your instincts are telling you that you need something, you need to trust it. Your omega is a part of you, just our alphas are a part of us. Acting on that part of yourself isn’t the same thing as losing yourself,”
You go still in his arms.
“I know you’re scared,” He murmurs, “but we have you.”
Mingi steps closer, reaching for you both, cupping your cheek with one hand and resting the other at the back of Yunho’s neck.
“We do,” Mingi says, pressing a kiss to your forehead and giving Yunho a squeeze, before he leans back again against the counter.
“Now,” Yunho shifts you both so that you’re all facing each other when he asks his next question, “What did Dr. Kang say? Did she give you anything more concrete to work with?”
You can practically hear her in the room talking about all the tools in your toolbox, or maybe it’s exactly the same language that he uses with his own therapist.
Either way you smile, “A few things, mostly some grounding strategies,”
Yunho nods, fully focused now, “Good, like what?”
“She said familiar sensory things can help if I start getting too out of it,” You explain, “music, phrases, touch, routines, things that would anchor me into my conscious thoughts.”
While Yunho catalogues it all, Mingi nods, “We can definitely do that.”
“Maybe we can talk about that stuff tonight?” You offer gently.
“We’ll make a plan,” Yunho agrees, “did she give you anything else to think about?”
Heat creeps slowly up your neck as you remember the session, “Just, ah,” you trail off, trying to find the right words, “some communication stuff.”
Yunho’s brows knit together slightly, “What kind of communication stuff?”
You make a soft, non-committal noise, eyes flicking down to the edge of your sweatshirt sleeves, “Oh, you know,”
Yunho smiles, still confused but a little amused, “No, I don’t,” he gently nudges you, “that’s why I’m asking, baby.”
“Right,” You breathe, gathering a little resolve, “well, okay, this is going to sound weird,”
“How weird could it be?” Mingi quips before he can think better of it and you glare weakly at him.
“It’s just us,” Yunho says.
It takes a minute, while you work out how to say it, but in the end the words just spill out, “Do you know anything about BDSM?”
Mingi’s eyes widen before he blinks once, caught completely off guard by your question. Yunho’s eyebrows just lift, the confusion in his brow clearing entirely as pieces slot together for him.
Your cheeks heat, “Oh my god, nevermind,”
“No, no, no,” Mingi says quickly, taking your arms in his hands, “don’t deflect yet, I’m just trying to catch up,”
“It’s not–,” You start to say.
“Because, babe,” Mingi smiles, a little hint of teasing in his eyes, “I don’t know what this has to do with your heat, but if you want me to like, tie you up or make you bark or something, I’m open minded.”
You make a strangled noise, “Mingi!”
“What?” He laughs, “I’m being supportive!”
“And you went straight to barking like a dog?” You burst into laughter, “What do you think BDSM is?”
“I mean some people are into that,” Mingi shrugs, before adding, “probably,”
Yunho finally breaks, laughing under his breath and shaking his head, “You are not helping,”
“And you do not seem surprised enough by this conversation,” Mingi points out.
“Oh my god,” It’s your turn to be surprised at Yunho’s lack of reaction, and you’re starting to wonder what your boyfriend’s internet search history looks like.
Yunho clears his throat, “Anyways,” he tries to refocus, “I’m assuming Dr. Kang was talking about consent frameworks?”
Your mouth falls open a little before you can recover, “Yes…,”
“Did she suggest something specific?” Yunho ignores the shocked look on both your faces.
“The traffic light system?” You offer.
To your utter surprise, he nods, “That’s a really good idea, actually.”
“Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?” Mingi blinks.
“Jesus,” Yunho blushes this time, “I don’t know all that much, and what I do know is mostly theoretical, calm down,”
“Mostly,” You point out.
“This is definitely not the main takeaway from this conversation,” Yunho groans.
“Yeah,” You smile, “but it is terribly interesting information,”
“Mhm,” Yunho crosses his arms.
“Relax,” You reach up to him, craning on tip toe to cup his cheek, “I’m not judging, I’m glad you know what the fuck you’re doing, even theoretically, okay?”
He sighs, dipping forwards, kissing you softly, and then wrapping his arms back around you, “Okay,”
Mingi hums, “Someone’s going to have to clue me in,”
“Tonight,” Yunho says, “with how close your heat might be,” his hand runs a comforting line up and down your back, “we need to figure this out soon,”
Your body softens into him again, “Thank you,”
“We’ve got this,” Mingi says, “we’ll figure everything out.”
“Of course we will,” Yunho nods.
There’s a pull in your gut telling you what to do, and you resist the urge to push it down and keep it to yourself, “Can we talk in the nest?”
“Of course we can,” Yunho smiles softly, “I think that’s the perfect place.”
“I’d feel comfortable there,” You admit, “and I need to do a little rearranging before it drives me insane,”
“I’ll get some of our shirts too,” Mingi adds, knowing exactly what you’ll need to start slowly preparing your nest the right way.
“Please,”
“Before any of that,” Yunho straightens up, running a hand down your hair, “you haven’t eaten a thing, have you?”
“It was a busy day,” You offer as an excuse.
“Mm,” Yunho shakes his head, but lets it pass, “let’s eat, it smells amazing in here,” Yunho says, leaning over to press a soft kiss to Mingi’s cheek before heading for the stove.
Mingi’s cheeks redden, a gentle smile on his lips.
“Both of you go sit,” Yunho shoos you away when you start to reach for a bowl, “you cooked, I’ll take care of the rest.”
He’s fussing, you can see that in the way he’s taking care of you both. You know deep down he’s worried about your heat the same as you are, he’s thinking of every possibility and every solution so he’s ready, and if caring for you now while you’re in the beginning stages of your pre-heat helps settle him, you want nothing more than to give that to him.
Your heat is coming, a biological inevitability, but as you tuck yourself onto Mingi’s lap and watch Yunho prepare the banchan and bowls of warm rice, you know there’s another inevitability to contend with. They love you, and there’s nothing they wouldn’t do to keep you safe, to keep you whole.
This will be hard, but you’ll survive it.
And maybe, just maybe, Yunho’s right. Maybe this heat will be different in good ways too.
[three's company] boyfriend!mingi x fem!reader x boyfriend!yunho
tall, curvy, insecure reader. angst, fluff, smut minors dni | pinv, oral (receiving), anal, mxm, fingering, manhandling, degradation, hella praise, one alcoholic drink consumed, subspace, they're in love, established relationship dynamics, light bdsm dynamics, breeding kink, words mommy and pregnancy are used, aftercare | wc 8.8k
─── if you feel like you've read this before, that's because i'm reposting it! technically this is non-canon 3comp but i wanted to post her in her full glory bc this is my soul fic
“Can we go out tonight?” Yunho’s head hung off the back of the recliner, his head tilted to look at you and Mingi in the kitchen, sharing a bowl of chips at the counter, scrolling on your phones. A book halfway read laid on his lap, your top lip curled at the question, you assumed tonight was another night in.
“Where?” You answered his question like there was nothing open at this hour. Seven in the evening on a Friday, you wanted it to be another night in with your boyfriends. Those were your favorite.
“Jinkies,” Yunho replied simply, like that answer was so obvious you should have known it already. The dive bar a few streets over you frequented often, your friends were always there, it was a staple for your town. Your gaze slid to Mingi and he blinked at you, indifference on his face, before stuffing another chip in his mouth.
“What if we go tomorrow instead?” You tilt your head, smiling enticingly at Yunho, but his eyebrows slanted in a way that meant he saw straight through you. When he asked tomorrow, you’d say next week, then he’d be irritated, and you’d spend half the night trying to make it up to him when all you wanted to do was stay home cuddled up to his side.
“Come on,” Mingi nudged your phone in your hand with his own. “We haven’t been out in awhile, and it’s Yunho asking this time, not me.”
That was true. It usually was Mingi asking to go out, get drunk, to inevitably go home and fuck like drunken rabbits, forever his plan, his favorite weekend activity. Your top lip curled again, a low whine sneaking its way past your lips, your head tilting back.
“Why can’t we just stay home and spend quality time with each other?” You complained, slipping off the stool you sat on to trudge over to Yunho, who kept amusement in his eyes as he watched you come closer. You leaned down, palms pressed into the armrests of the recliner he sat on, letting your voice sink into something sultry, “We could have a lot more fun if we stayed home.”
He tilted his chin up in a way that meant kiss me, “We can do that when we get home, baby. It's Friday, we can sleep in tomorrow.” You pouted, but you closed the distance to press your lips against his, anyway. You tried to deepen it, sinking into him farther, trying to pry open his lips with your tongue, but he pulled away. “You know that doesn’t work on me, I’m not Mingi.”
“Hey,” Mingi scoffed from the kitchen. “I’m not that easy. Usually she takes off her shirt, at that point it’s out of my hands.”
You can’t help the smile that crawls onto your cheeks, even if you were trying to prove how much you hated the idea of leaving your apartment tonight. Yunho tilts his head, a palm reaching up to cradle one side of your face, “It’s only seven. You have plenty of time to get ready, and we don’t have to stay out past twelve.”
You sigh, leaning off the recliner, hands landing on your hips. Every excuse you could have made, he just countered. He knows you too well.
Mingi’s jaw dropped from the counter, “That was the easiest we’ve ever gotten her to say yes.”
“We? I asked,” Yunho responds, picking up his book again, fixing where his glasses sat on his face, completely ignoring how Mingi’s face blew wide with offense. “Be ready by nine.”
“I’m showering, you’re hanging out with me while I get ready,” you point at Mingi and he slides off the stool immediately, his lopsided, giddy grin spread wide.
“I’ll shower with you!” He calls after you, hot on your tail as you walk into the hallway that leads to your shared bedroom. After being together for years, taking a shower together these days was more for saving water, saving time, than it was for quickies or heated touches– yet sometimes they were still for exactly that.
You washed your hair while he washed your body, just because he can, lathered hands sliding over each curve of your body, taking time on your chest, your ass, giving each a proper grope, playing it off that you were extra dirty. You rolled your eyes with a smile, but let him do as he pleased, his hands on your body so comforting, each touch filled with love, he was obsessed with you. Touching you. Feeling you.
You couldn’t say you weren’t obsessed too, the way you took time washing his body, on his chest, his abdomen, his thighs, his cock that began growing the moment your fingers neared. Groaning, tucking his bottom lip between his teeth, “Don’t start, we won’t leave the fuckin’ house.”
With raised brows, your smile in answer was mischievous. He shook his head, lips parting as you gripped him just right, “Fuck, he’ll kill us, or tie us up or something. Don’t start, seriously.”
You leaned into him, smiling at him, your lowered eyes meeting his easily, your heads almost meeting the same height, your gaze sank him deeper into your trap. “I already started.”
The shower curtain opened. You jumped away from each other, caught red-handed.
Yunho’s sigh was long, knowing. Deep brown hair ruffled on his forehead, glasses nowhere to be seen, he was naked, his strong body on display, your mouth watered. He noticed, but instead his features drooped into a scowl.
“Can’t let you two do anything,” he mumbled, annoyed, stepping in right between you.
You pouted, but stayed for the duration of the shower in an attempt to convince him to do anything else but go to the bar. You loved staying home with them, but your distaste for going to the bar was a little more loaded, a tad bit deeper than you let on.
The dingy dive bar you frequented, full of everyone you know, you loved seeing them, but sometimes it made you sick remembering that they saw you, too. Ripping your closet apart to find an outfit, then finding one just to try it on and hate how it looks on you. Your jeans didn’t fit like they did four years ago. Your chest spilled out of the collection of going out tops you had in your closet.
Your body was different– but it should be. Your mindset changes as you get older, your hormones change, your priorities change, everything changes, but somehow you couldn’t accept that your body changed, too. It was insecurity, it was something you kept on a tight leash so it didn’t bleed into your relationship with the two men who loved you severely.
You were getting your period soon and already feeling more bloated than usual, on top of the regular insecurity that thrummed beneath your skin as a constant reminder. You didn’t want to go. You didn’t want to see anyone that knew you back then, that can compare the old you to the new you. You could go to Jinkies a thousand times and still have the same uncomfortable pang in your gut about leaving the house.
Mingi helped with your hair, styled it how you liked it while you did your makeup, just dark enough for the dive bar vibe. Upbeat music played throughout your shared space, the three of you mindlessly singing along to your favorite songs as you got ready in your bedroom, a king-sized bed right in the middle, big enough for the three of you.
You’ve never been small. Always taller than your friends, forever standing behind them at concerts so they could see, reaching the things they couldn’t reach, somehow being seen as rougher, more masculine in a strange way, just because you towered over them. Having to do research on the inseam of pants before you bought them, clothes not fitting right, even having a smaller dating pool. Being in a relationship with two tall men was incredible, even better that they were still taller than you, despite it just being an inch or two. Almost face to face with Mingi, Yunho still stood above you both.
They’ve never once been the core of your insecurity. For a long time, it lay dormant, like you locked it away in a box, never to be opened again. Over the years, you’ve had your fair share of not being able to wear heels, slouching your shoulders to appear smaller, but never once with Mingi and Yunho have you needed to shrink any part of yourself. They loved you, every fucking inch of you, loud and proud.
You couldn’t pinpoint when the box had been unlocked, but when you opened it again, it was exploding, overflowing with things that weren’t there when you tucked it away.
You faced your closet, robe tied tight on your waist, heart pounding against your chest.
“Wear the sexy jeans,” Yunho came up behind you, hands on your hips, his cheek pressed to yours. He smelled like your bodywash, clean, still him. You leaned into him, the comfort of his touch, too deep in your head, eyes laying over the denim in your closet– you didn’t know if the sexy jeans were still all that sexy.
But you pulled them out anyway, jumping into them, ignoring how Mingi snickered behind you. After he clasped your bra around your back, you pulled a random black top over your head, immediately reaching for the black bomber jacket you loved. Looking in the mirror, your jaw clenched, you swung the jacket over your shoulders before your thoughts could settle.
“We’re not leaving for awhile yet, baby, if you wanna wait to put your jacket on,” Yunho kisses your head softly as he passes you, going into the bathroom for his cologne.
You meet Mingi’s eye as you pull it closer to your body. He’s studying you always, too in-tune with your emotions, they both are; reading your thoughts before you’ve properly finished them, knowing what's happening in your head just from the look on your face.
“You look so fucking sexy,” he says low, almost under his breath as he crosses the room, pressing his forehead to yours, pushing your jacket off your shoulders. He kisses you as it falls to the floor, his hands reaching for your waist, squeezing you, tongue slipping between your freshly glossed lips.
“Lemme see you,” he mutters against your mouth, taking a step back. His face morphs into pleasure like you’d just taken his cock into your mouth, “God, I’m so fuckin’ lucky. Yunho, come look at our pretty baby, all dolled up for us.”
Yunho, from the doorway to the bathroom, whistles low, “I’ll never get tired of that ass, fuck, don’t know how ‘m gonna keep my hands off you.”
“We could always just stay home,” you’re smiling as you turn your head to see him. “You can keep your hands on me.”
“But you look so pretty,” he pouts, head tilting, so puppy-like it makes your tummy tumble. “I want everyone to see how beautiful my girlfriend is.”
“We wanna show you off,” Mingi pulls you into him and you brace your hands on his chest, giggling. Black tee beneath his zip-up, soon to be paired with a leather jacket on top, he had a hat on his head, hiding his shiny black hair that’s grown longer, touching the base of his neck. Baggy jeans on his legs, crisp sneakers on his feet, he was in his dive-bar uniform.
Yunho’s uniform, loose cargos, an oversized tee, even more oversized flannel, his favorite sneakers on his feet. They were so predictable it made you laugh sometimes.
“Fine,” you press your lips to his, slinging your arms around his neck, “I won’t beg anymore.”
“We’ll only be out a few hours,” Yunho is at your back, hands on your hips, now smelling like warmth, vanilla, woodsy cedar. He presses his lips to your hair again, his favorite place to kiss, anywhere on your head. “You can have a few drinks and remind us what a lil’ tequila does to you.”
You snort, wiggling out of their grip, picking the black jacket up from the floor, “You two will be reminding me what whiskey does to you, after you’ve dapped up the entire fucking town.”
Looking back at them, Yunho’s arms are linked around Mingi’s waist, standing slightly lowered behind him so their cheeks pressed together. You throw a hand on your hip, “Okay, choose a pair of shoes for me.”
The November air outside is fucking freezing, the inside of Jinkies isn’t much better, but its giving you an excuse to hold your jacket close, so you can’t complain. Bodies surround you, people you’ve known for years, people you’ve never met, everyone seems to have eyes on you and it’s already fucking suffocating.
“This is my girlfriend,” Mingi is introducing you to someone from his job with the widest grin on his face, the guy is tall, you think Mingi said his name starts with a J? Structured face, broad build, generally handsome. “And my boyfriend, Yunho.”
You give him a tight-lipped smile, but your eyes dance about the bar, feeling like a sore thumb. Your arms are tucked under your chest, you need a drink, you want to go back home. Mingi laughs from his belly, something J-guy said, Yunho speaks over them to excuse you both with a hand on your lower back.
“Let’s get you a drink,” his eyes are on the crowd, on the flooded bar before you, on alert for a space to slide in, to flag the bartender down. You wished being tucked into his side meant you could cower beneath his height, be invisible amongst the sea of bodies.
Your lips are scrunched to one side, spitting an unhappy mumble, “Make it a double.”
He leans in against the bar, a sliver of space he carved out for himself, he keeps you tucked close to him and raises a brow while he taps his card along the bar. “What’s up with you?”
Your eyes jump up, defensive, “Nothing, just don’t wanna be here.”
He hums, “Mm, something else, something you’re not telling me.”
Your lips smack, “I told you I didn’t wanna come from the jump, Yun.”
Yunho’s eyes are back on Mingi, that possessive streak of his showing in the flex of his jaw. Your eyes glide over to where your boyfriend stood, still laughing at something else J-guy said, his head tilting back, mismatched teeth on display. You watch Yunho watching, his brows a line, eyes squinting as if he could explode the man making his boyfriend laugh with his eyes.
“He’s fine, leave him be,” you say under your breath. “Bring him a drink and he’ll be at your feet.”
Then Yunho’s eyes are on yours again and you feel the irritation behind them, but he doesn’t comment, instead asking, “He’s kinda hot, what’s his name again?”
You shrug, “Don’t care. What’s taking so long?”
“There’s a bar full of people, baby,” he leans in to press a kiss to your forehead. “Have patience.”
You feel like a spoiled brat, arms crossed, foot tapping, not feeling any warmth when your boyfriend kisses your skin. You wished you could tell him it’s not because of him, it’s not because he dragged you here, it is– but it’s more than that. You didn’t want to hear him tell you you’re wrong for feeling this way, that it’s not true, that you’re beautiful.
Truth is, in his eyes, in Mingi’s eyes, you know you’re beautiful. You feel it every single day.
But no one else here is looking at you with rose-colored glasses the way they do.
Yunho’s hand pulls your arms from your chest, unzipping your jacket to slide his arm around your waist, beneath the black leather. His hand hot on your skin, you fix your posture in a quick, startling jump of movement, Yunho flinches before settling his hand where he wants it.
“What’s wrong?” His brows are furrowed now, looking into your fucking soul with those chocolate brown eyes. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, Yunho,” you step back. “I’m gonna go to the bathroom, hopefully you’ll have drinks by the time I get back.”
God, you hate acting like this. You hate who your insecurity is turning you into right now, a sharp-tongued asshole taking it out on the wrong person. What you hate the most is that you can’t fucking stop.
The bathroom line isn’t long, girls around you in outfits much too dressy for a dive bar, at least for your tastes. Fresh blowouts, mini-skirts, heeled boots on their feet, it didn’t match the dollar bills stapled to the beams on the ceiling or the vintage pin-ball machine, nor the heavy rock music slamming into your ears or half the men here who wore leather on leather.
They look beautiful, every single one of them. You hate that you’re sour because you don’t look just like them. Standing slouched, shoulders inward, their stomachs still flat, their legs crossed, not a sign of cellulite peeking from beneath their mini-skirts, it was nauseating. They’re younger than you, that you’re sure of, but damn, did you look like that even at their age? You can’t remember, or your mind refuses you even a moment of reprieve.
Your chin tilts upward until your eyes are on the ceiling. It’s jealousy, insecurity, you’re too self-aware for your mind to imprison you like this– it’s utterly and completely unfair.
You listen as they share lip gloss and take pictures with their digital cameras while you’re in the stall, talking about who-kissed-who and who’s-leaving-with-who tonight. Your mouth tastes like bile, so disgustingly jealous it makes you sick, until you leave the bathroom to be met with a face that was last on your list of people to see tonight.
“Oh my God, it’s been so long.” Jihyo, a friend you’ve known since college, one of the most beautiful women you’ve ever known, one of the most beautiful women on the planet, probably. If coming here was lighting a matchstick, seeing her was throwing yourself into the fucking fire.
You give her a tight, short hug, forcing yourself to ignore how tiny she feels in your arms, “Only a few months, I thought.”
Her laughter, her smile, easily found compared to the one plastered on your lips, forced out of your mouth. You can’t imagine the things she’s thinking right now, what disappointed thoughts are on her mind–
“A few months too long, you look fucking incredible,” she gives you a one-over and you’re lucky there isn’t alcohol in your system yet, you might have emptied your stomach right there.
“Shut up,” you shake your head, cheeks beginning to cramp from your fake-ass smile. “You never change. Like, genetically perfect, I think.”
She smacks your arm, giggling, “Please." She tilts her head, "Have you seen Jongho? He’s somewhere around here, I think.”
“Maybe he’s with Yunho or Mingi, they’re up by the bar somewhere.”
“I’m gonna go look for him, I’m in dire need of a cig.”
You part ways easily, you’re praying Yunho has a drink for you. Finding your boyfriends was simple, their heads popping up over everyone else’s, up by the bar where you left one of them. A cocktail in Mingi’s hand, a beer in Yunho’s, a matching cocktail for you in Yunho’s other hand. You could cry from the sheer relief of tequila in your sights.
“There she is,” Mingi’s eyes drape over your figure, hunger incarnate, a brain that’s never not directly in the gutter. “Can’t believe how fucking sexy you look, I need to rip those jeans off of you.”
Ignoring him, you take the clear plastic cup from Yunho’s hand, forgoing the straw as you suck down a few chugs, enough to where both of their eyebrows raise with comedic timing you couldn’t appreciate. You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, blinking at them, “What?”
“Nothing,” they respond simultaneously, heads shaking.
“I saw Jihyo.” Your eyes are bouncing around the bar again in self-preservation. “She’s here with Jongho.”
“That means they’re all here,” Yunho’s grin widens, his eyes already leading to the backdoor.
“Shall we go?” Mingi looks at Yunho, then to you, but you both wait for Yunho’s nod before you begin for the lion’s den. You’re chugging down more tequila, waiting patiently for the burn of ease to spread from your tummy to your limbs, needing something to hit before you push the heavy steel door open to the frigid air behind it.
Everyone howls upon seeing your boyfriends, all loud laughs and wide grins, hands smacking together and fists pounding against backs. Everyone greets you kindly, side hugs, kisses pressed to your cheek from the girls, all of whom look stupidly gorgeous. Jongho, Wooyoung, Yeosang, their girlfriends Jihyo, Sana and Tzuyu. San and Jongin, Hongjoong and Seonghwa, it was a spur of the moment family reunion that you didn’t want to be at, but no one would have a clue.
You think Yunho has caught on by now.
How your smile only appears when someone addresses you directly, how you decline each offer of a smoke despite liquor in your system, only adding to the conversation with small, meaningless words. He pulls you inside under the guise of your already-empty drink, long fingers wrapped around your forearm, eyebrows knitted together in concern, “What’s going on with you?”
The music pounds over your words. “I told you I’m fine, Yunho.”
“And I know you’re not,” his voice is harsh, clean-cut, demanding the truth. “Are you just acting like a fucking brat because I dragged you out of the house?”
“No, Yu–”
“We haven’t been out in months, and I wanted to see our friends. I’m asking you for one night, a few hours, and you can’t even give me that?”
Oh, your face burns. Your ears had been dipped in fire. There’s a tightness in your chest that feels inescapable, of embarrassment, of guilt, of genuine fucking sadness that he thinks you’d do that, act like that, just because you weren’t getting your way.
“It’s not that, Yunho, I swear–”
“Then what is it?” He’s reading your face, trying to see into your mind, trying to gauge some kind of truth other than the one he’s concluded on his own.
“Give me your flannel,” you say bluntly, skipping past the explanation, straight to what would make you feel better in the moment. What would ease you enough so you could pretend better.
He blinks at you. You stand your ground, despite your voice cracking, “Give me your flannel, Yunho.”
He’s silent for a second, “Why do you want my–”
“You can wear one of Mingi’s jackets, or mine, I don’t care, just give me the fucking flannel, Yunho.”
His eyebrows furrow, sliding it off his shoulders, you hand him your empty drink as you unzip the bomber, trading your jacket for his flannel; oversized on him, it swallows you. A thick, wool dress your jeans peek out of, it settles half the unease in your tummy, being hidden beneath his clothes.
“Baby, why?” He looks confused, concerned, voice small and curious.
“I felt exposed,” you shrug it off. “This is better.”
Mingi barrels inside, his drink empty too, his grin lazy and stamped on his face like this was the best night of his life. It disappears when he sees the two of you. Your heart churns.
“What goes on?” He asks, brows furrowing, coming in close, looking between the two of you. “Did you come inside to play Dress To Impress? Nice outfit change.”
“No,” you reply instantly, shaking your head, usually you’d laugh, smile, at least. “I just need another drink.”
Yunho seems like he’s still calculating. Blinking, eyes glazed over like he was putting pieces together in his head. After a moment, he looks at Mingi, “We’re leaving.”
Mingi pouts, a whine escaping him, “Why? I was just coming in to get another drink and take a leak.”
“No we’re not,” you shake your head, eyes pleading to Yunho who had already made his decision. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for this to become a thing, it’s fine. We can stay.”
“What do you mean a thing?” Mingi’s confused now, head bobbing back and forth, “What became a thing? Tell me the thing. Are you okay, baby? Did something happen?”
“It’s fine, Min.” You pull away in the direction of the bar, grabbing Mingi’s wrist to drag him along in escaping the mess you created. “Let’s get another drink.”
“I said we’re going home.”
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.
You hated when he used that voice on you, the edge of dominance, so unyielding and clear your back straightened on command, body stopping mid-movement, heart plummeting to the base of your gut. Like a spell, or maybe you were just a well-trained dog, when Yunho used that voice, you fucking listened.
“Say your goodbyes and get in the car.”
You had tears in your eyes by the time you made it to the passenger’s seat of Yunho’s Acura. Knees touching, hands folded on top of your jacket in your lap, staring out the window, pretending like your guilt wasn’t eating you alive. You don’t know why it bothered you so heavily tonight, something you carry with you all the time, you can’t pinpoint why it made you so ugly tonight out of all nights. You didn’t behave like that usually, you were far better at hiding it, you kept the feelings on a tight leash so this wouldn’t happen.
Mingi hummed along to Yunho’s radio the entire ride home, you weren’t sure if he was oblivious, or waiting for the explosion. You weren’t sure how to get out of this without exposing yourself completely, without telling them the truth. You’ve never really had to lie to them before.
Nervous. You didn’t want to lie, but you didn’t want to tell them the truth, either. Yunho didn’t speak until after he locked your front door behind him.
“Tell me what’s wrong, and be honest. Please.”
He didn’t sound mad. Your eyes peeked up at this, surprise written on your face when you’re met with Yunho who looked upset. Scared. Hurt, even. You couldn’t put your finger on it.
“I just didn’t like my outfit, that’s all,” your voice is shaky, high-pitched. You don’t know when you became such a shit liar.
His hands are on your waist at the obvious deceit, guiding you forward until your back is pressed against Mingi, the three of you conjoined in your foyer, barely inside your apartment yet. His head leans down to press his forehead against yours, his voice soft, “Come on, baby, tell me the truth. I know you like the back of my hand, there’s no point in lying.”
You attempt to swallow down the tightness in your throat that was beginning to crawl up again. Your bottom lip poking out, your voice cracked as you said, “I don’t know how to say it to you.”
His hands slide upward until they’re cupping your cheeks, Mingi’s hands settle on your hips, tucking you inside a bubble of them. The two people who have never made you feel less than, the loves of your fucking life, who love you just as much as you love them. Knowing you could lean on them for support but being too fucking insecure to do it is like two different halves of you fighting, teeth and claws bared.
“I don’t look like Jihyo,” you blurt, and the sob that follows is harsh. The rest is a jumble of words, barely audible from your sobs that rip every syllable apart, but saying it out loud is somehow a weight off your chest. “I don’t look like Jihyo, or Sana, or Tzuyu, or any of those fucking girls in that bar. I don’t look the same as I looked at twenty-two and it makes me sick.”
Yunho’s answer comes after a second of thought, of looking deep into your eyes, after reaching into his well of information about you, telling him how to proceed. “Do you want me to say the shit you know I’m gonna say?”
You shake your head furiously, words rushed, “I know how you feel about me, I know you love me, I know you think I’m beautiful. It just gets to me sometimes.”
Mingi’s hands tighten on your hips, his head pressed to yours, holding you as close as he can without suffocating you. “Can we show you then?”
You sniff, “Huh?”
“Can we show you how much we love you, how beautiful we think you are, instead of telling you?” His breath is hot on your neck, his hands heavy on your hips. Yunho’s still holding your cheeks with pleading eyes like he’d beg you to say yes if he needed to.
Your head starts to shake, a rebuttal on your lips, but Yunho steals the words from your mouth. Lips pressed to yours, he’s rough at first, pulling you down into submission, you fall in line easily, melting into his touch was routine.
“You need this,” he whispers into your mouth, deepening the kiss, tongue slipping past your lips, and already you feel lighter.
Mingi’s head drops into the pocket of your neck, moving your hair out of the way so his lips can find the spot below your ear, “Let us worship you, baby. Show you how much we love this fuckin’ body.”
His hands slide up to your chest, lips attaching to the sensitive spot on your neck, Yunho’s tongue working your mouth open like he’s done a million times before. There’s emotion in Yunho’s kiss, words you don’t want him to say, each one on his tongue that dances with yours.
You sink into them, nails clawing into Yunho’s forearms, back pressed into Mingi’s front as he holds you, kisses your skin like he’s burning his love for you into it. God, you fucking love them, you love them so much it hurts.
“C’mon,” Yunho’s hands were under your ass before you noticed Mingi pulled away, picking you up with a motion much too easy. That alone has your mind short-circuiting, but he kisses you as he walks you to the bedroom, effectively shutting your brain off, a purposeful action.
They crawl on top of you, both of them, four hands in different places. On your cheek, your thigh, your waist, your neck, they take either side of you like they owned halves of you, your partners, your boyfriends, they owned all of you, both of them.
“Smell so fucking good,” Mingi groans into your neck, tongue flattening against your skin. “Wanna eat you.”
“No idea how beautiful this body is,” Yunho’s hand goes for his flannel over your chest. “You have no idea how hard I get just by looking at you, baby.”
You whimper, hips bucking into Mingi’s hand that lays against your thigh. He chuckles into your neck, “We’ll get there, baby, don’t worry. Gonna treat our wife so good tonight.”
Your tummy tumbles at wife, a moan slipping past your lips, they both catch it. Mingi chuckles into your neck, pulling the hand from your thigh to grab you by the chin to face him, “You like that? Being called our wife?”
You nod, brows furrowed, face already blown out in pleasure. Yunho’s smiling as he unbuttons the flannel over your chest, met with the low-cut black top beneath, your chest spilling out of it. “Fuck, we should make you a mommy.”
You clench around nothing, pooling in your panties by now, Mingi drinks up your moan as he presses his lips to yours, tongue slipping into your mouth like he needed your taste to keep himself focused. Hands splayed across your tummy, your chest, squeezing you through your bra, you didn’t know who’s hands were who’s.
You quickly realized you didn’t care when you were being pulled upward, flannel pushed off your shoulders, top pulled over your head. It was Mingi who unclasped your bra one-handed, he fastened it for you daily, took it off of you daily.
His lips wrapped around your peaked nipple, fingers toying with the other as your head knocked back against the mattress, a harsh hiss of pleasure pushing past your lips. Yunho was already at the button of your jeans, “As much as I love these jeans on you baby, how they make your ass look, how it sways when you walk… shit, I need a picture of you in these.”
“Take one,” you squeak, breathless, back arched under Mingi’s lips on your chest, squealing when his teeth graze your nipple.
“Next weekend,” Yunho commands, dragging your zipper down. “You’ll wear these again, and that strappy lil’ top I love.”
“Fuck,” you huff, hips jerking into his touch.
“So needy,” Yunho tsks. “And you were gonna say no, as if we don’t know what you need.”
“Trust us, baby,” Mingi’s lips move back up your chest, sucking at the skin on the base of your neck. “We know everything about you. Spent years learning and loving this beautiful body, figuring out that insanely intelligent mind of yours.”
“Smart and beautiful,” Yunho’s thumbs tucked into the waistband of your jeans, tugging them over the curve of your ass. “Funny, too. Damn, Min, we really hit the jackpot, huh?”
You can feel the breath of Mingi’s amusement on your neck, “Sexy, smart, funny… pussy tastes so sweet, too. Maybe we will make you a mommy tonight.”
You should be fucking embarrassed at the sound that leaves your lips. Pure, unbridled lust in the form of a strangled moan, everything in you was saying yes, please, do it.
“So wet, these panties are stickin’ to you.” As if Yunho said the trigger word Mingi is pushing himself off your upper half, one veiny hand holding up your thigh, you’re just now noticing he lost his jackets, his hat.
His black tee clinging to him, face pink-kissed and splotchy, his dark eyes dilate as Yunho slides your panties to the side. Mingi’s face morphs in pleasure, both of them groaning, Yunho curses under his breath, “You’re dripping, baby.” His eyes shoot up your body, meeting your gaze, “So fucking beautiful, you wanna be a mommy that bad?”
“Stop saying that,” you mutter, fingers twisting in the comforter beneath you, hips twitching. Mingi keeps you spread, strong fingers under your knee, thigh folded over your tummy. He leans down to throw it over his shoulder, a gasp leaving your lips when his tongue makes contact with your seam, a long, slick stripe between your folds. His moan bleeds into yours and Yunho sighs, sitting back on his calves, eyes glazed over as he watches Mingi between your legs.
“You sound so pretty.” He’s mindlessly speaking, eyes locked on your center, on Mingi’s tongue that flicks over your clit. Your hands are in his long hair, tugging at his roots, staggered breaths and whimpers leaving your lips.
“Taste so fuckin’ good,” Mingi grunts into your core, his breath hot against your folds, you’re squirming at the ghost of his lips on your clit.
Yunho bends down, spreading your legs impossibly farther, as if he wanted your knee to hit the mattress. The stretch feels good with Mingi’s mouth on you, even better as Yunho dips his head in too, two tongues on your cunt, lapping up every ounce of wetness, grunting and groaning like they were doing it for their own pleasure.
“You–” your words come out through short, desperate breaths. “It’s too much.”
Ignoring you, someone’s tongue is inside you, the other’s lips around your clit, sucking, teeth grazing. Your moans grow louder, piercing the air of your shared bedroom, your belly filled with white-hot fire.
“Is our wifey gonna cum already?” Yunho, his voice honey-sweet. “Without anything inside her?”
You nod, eyes slits, so squinted in pleasure you could barely see the two heads between your legs. Mingi’s lips stay wrapped around your clit, sucking harshly as Yunho keeps talking. “You don’t want my finger inside you? Curled just right, against that little spot inside you that makes you see stars?”
“Fuck, Yunho,” your hips are bucking against Mingi’s face, an orgasm you fear the intensity of on the brink of exploding. “‘m gonna cum.”
“Gonna cum on Mingi’s tongue? You want his fingers inside you, then? They’re thicker than mine, y'know, almost the size of that pink toy in the drawer…”
He’s teasing you and your body ignites, tummy churning, body locking up, he smiles. His long, middle finger prods your entrance, beneath Mingi’s tongue, curling in the way he said he would, the slight pressure against that spot inside you has you squeezing around his finger, pleasure exploding in your tummy, legs shaking as it spreads throughout each limb, every nerve ending.
“So good for us,” Yunho’s praise keeps your hips twitching, waves of pleasure exploding beneath your skin. “So fuckin’ good, our good girl, there you go.”
He adds another finger, moving now, thrusting up inside you with a curve to his knuckle that has you seeing stars. Overstimulation hitting, you panic, nails clawing at his forearm, “Yunho!”
Mingi breaks off your clit with a pop, licking his lips, watching how you gush around Yunho’s fingers with dilated, focused eyes. “Make her cum again, just like that.”
Mingi’s forearm holds down your hips, adding pressure on your lower tummy, the sounds that ripped from your gut were obscene. Guttural cries, not pretty ones, a song of how overwhelming it was to have your orgasm never truly end, cunt clenching around his fingers, pulsing and gushing against him.
“You can do it, baby,” Mingi encourages, Yunho’s brows locked in focus. “C’mon, give us another. Wanna see you all messy.”
“Shit– shit.” The weight of Mingi’s arm on your tummy, pressed against where Yunho’s fingers curved inside of you, was too much. The pressure was too heavy. “I can’t,” you’re shaking your head, voice high-pitched, “I can’t, I can’t–”
“Let go,” Mingi’s voice is low, soaked in greed. “Let go for us, let yourself feel it, let us show you how much we love you.”
“Love you so fucking much,” Yunho’s gasping, in awe at how their words make you clench. “Wanna taste it, one more, c’mon.”
Your fingers dig into Mingi’s arm over your tummy as the pressure blows again, this one just as intense as the first, if not more, your vision whiting out as Yunho’s fingers work you through the eruption of scalding pleasure.
“Fuck,” Mingi’s groan is edged with need. “I’m so fucking hard.”
“Thought you were just a painslut, baby,” Yunho pops his fingers into his mouth when the aftershocks subsided. “Didn’t think praise got you off like that, too.”
“Situational,” Mingi’s short reply is filled with amusement as he crawls up your twitching, spent body, hands immediately landing on your hips, squeezing your skin as his tongue sloppily slides into your mouth.
“Need to be inside you,” he mumbles into your lips. “Need to feel you clenching around me.”
Yunho’s behind him, pulling him upward to tug his shirt over his head, grabbing him by the throat to turn his head to the side, attaching their lips like they’d been waiting for this all night. Mingi sinks into his hips, head craning while Yunho’s hands splay across his stomach, sliding upward, halting just to flick at his nipples.
Mingi moans into his mouth and Yunho’s hands drop again to palm him through his jeans, unbuttoning them, pulling the zipper town, dropping the denim just enough so his brief-covered cock pokes out. Your mouth waters, heat flooding you all over again as you watch Mingi’s body arch and twitch under Yunho’s long fingers, strong hands.
Yours. The reminder was still dizzying.
Mingi moans as Yunho pulls his cock out, giving it a few harsh tugs, the crimson tip leaking with precum, just enough for Yunho to smear along his length, twisting his wrist. Your hand drops between your legs, rubbing at your clit softly, overstimulation still thrumming in the bundle of nerves.
“So fucking big,” you mumble mindlessly, lips parted, your other hand toying with one of your nipples.
Yunho’s eyes open to watch you, smirk tugging at his lips, “You want it? Want him inside you, baby?”
“Wanna be full,” you don’t meet his eye, gaze locked on Mingi’s clenching abdomen, how Yunho expertly fists his cock. “Want both of you, need both of you inside.”
Yunho’s brows raise, even Mingi’s eyes widen at that. Mingi reiterates, “Both of us?”
As if it were the first time. You nod, floaty, “Mhm.”
Yunho lets Mingi go to undress himself, Mingi kicks his pants off his feet as he pulls you toward him by your ankles, your ass almost meeting his knees. Kneeling, he pulls you up by your wrists until you have your own legs tucked under you, easily picking you up onto his lap. “God, this body is so fucking sexy, baby. Can’t wait to fill you up, make your belly all plump.”
You whine, forehead falling onto his shoulder, “Stop saying that.”
“Why would I when it makes your pussy so creamy?” He’s smiling, smirking, you can hear it in his voice. “You wanna be nice n’ full just as bad, don’t you? Want me to fuck you full of my kids?”
“Holy shit,” you mumble under your breath, body twitching in his hold while he explores every inch of your exposed skin, fingers following every line, every curve, each touch imprinting his love for you.
“It’s okay, baby,” he kisses the side of your head. “Don’t be embarrassed. Sit on my cock, lemme fill you up, c’mon.”
He grabs at the skin of your ass to move you, lining you up with his cock, you hold onto his shoulders for leverage as his tip catches on your entrance, a choked moan already tumbling from your lips.
“Haven’t even put it in yet and you’re moaning like a bitch in heat,” he teases, catching your lips in a quick kiss. “You gonna survive Yunho, too?”
Yunho’s warm hands are on your hips, his presence behind you like a shadow, guiding you down onto Mingi’s length. The air punches from your lungs in a tight squeak, he’s so fucking big, he fills you up so perfectly, the feeling is dizzying.
Yunho’s lips are on your shoulder, his teeth grazing your skin as Mingi bottoms out, sheathed inside you deliciously. Your breath catches in your throat, tight, heat flooding every sense, every limb, tears swell in your waterline.
“Crying already,” Mingi’s talking to Yunho, his voice tight. “Pretty baby wants two cocks and can’t even handle one.”
You clench and he hisses, Yunho chuckles from behind you. “You can’t handle her pussy, either.”
“Let’s see how you fare balls-deep in her ass,” Mingi bites back and you’re swimming, mind fuzzy while they talk about you like you’re not there. Not human. Just theirs, to take, to bend, to fill, you didn’t have to think if you didn’t want to. You didn’t need to.
You start moving, pleasure-soaked whimpers escaping as you bounce along the length of his cock, head falling forward onto Mingi’s shoulder again. You can hear the bottle of lube open behind you, but you pay no mind; the sound of Yunho slicking up his fingers, his cock, it's all above what your brain can materialize.
It was just you, feeling so full, feeling so loved, Mingi’s cock buried inside of you, curved to drag against the spot inside you, you’re babbling into his shoulder. “So fucking good, Mingi, I love you, I love you.”
Yunho’s coated finger swirls around your entrance and you’re arching at the feeling, body a livewire, he’s pressed to your back in a moment. “Color,” he orders, and the strike of dominance has you searching your mind for structure, you weren’t in a scene, but he could tell your mind was going fuzzy.
“Green,” you find clarity, the system you’ve put into place years ago slamming into the forefront of your mind.
“Good, breathe,” he reminds you, fingertip prodding at your entrance, you suck in a deep breath, clenching around Mingi’s length. “My good girl, just breathe,” his chin is tucked into your neck, his other hand moving your hair out of the way, fingers pulling strands from your temple, your cheek. His lips press against your jaw as you suck down a breath, he sinks his finger deeper as you exhale, the sound verbal, laced with a cry. “Let me in, baby. You know what to do, you can stop thinking soon, I promise.”
Your eyes flutter closed, nails drawing crescents into Mingi’s shoulders, jaw slack as you try to remember. Letting your body relax, to be open for him, pliant, he hums into your neck. “Just like that, good girl, doing so, so good for me. Love this body, love what she can do for me, look at you.”
“So fucking beautiful, holy shit,” Mingi’s praise is added to the mix and you’re pushing against Yunho’s finger, taking him deeper, silently asking for more. Yunho adds another and you’re keeling, body shaking, if it weren’t for Mingi’s strong hands on your hips you’d be jelly. His cock jumps inside you and he hisses, fingers squeezing the plush on your sides, “‘m sorry baby, fuck, you’re so wet, feels so fucking good.”
You hum, it’s all you can manage, so full, so brainless. You use the last bit of your strength to utter, “More.”
Yunho moves his fingers and you can hear how slick you are around Mingi’s cock, grinding against him so dirty, meeting Yunho’s thrusts, Mingi’s whining into your ear. “Fuck, fuck, so tight, so wet. I don’t know if I can last like this.”
“You can,” Yunho breathes. “You will. You don’t cum until I say so.”
Mingi’s hips buck into you and a strained noise escapes you. He curses, voice taut, ragged with pleasure, “Feels so fucking good, Yunho, she feels so good.”
“I know baby,” Yunho leans over your shoulder to find Mingi’s lips in a messy kiss. “You can do it, I won’t last long inside, either. Body fuckin’ carved for us, made for us to fill.”
You’re alight again, pulsing against them, moving faster, taking them deeper. They both moan, cradling you between them, but Yunho speaks, “Ready for my cock? You want it?” You nod, nonsensical babbles uttered from your lips, and Yunho laughs. “Oh, she’s gone. I’ll fill you up, baby.”
His fingers leave your ass and you clench again, impatience on your tongue, fingertips drumming along Mingi’s skin. Yunho lines himself up and you hold your breath instinctively, bracing yourself, he reminds you with a light smack to your hip to breathe.
You choke on a moan as he begins pushing inside, colorful words ripped from your throat at the stretch, Mingi already so deep inside you, Yunho’s full length meeting him, a thin wall separating them. They’re both groaning, staggered breaths of pleasure, curses, your sounds blend together in the open air of your bedroom, a song of coinjointness; it was a beautiful feeling, the three of you connected so deeply, you didn’t know where one of you began and the other started anymore, it was the best you’ve ever felt.
Nothing could ever feel better than this.
“I love you,” you’re whispering, croaking. “Fuck, I love you.”
Mingi catches your lips as Yunho casts his love into your back, lips pressed to your skin as he starts moving. Mingi moving with him, you’re suspended between them for the taking, whatever they wanted, you’d give them. You trust them. You love them.
“So tight,” you’ve never heard Yunho so out of it, his voice lagged, layered with pleasure and awe.
“I can feel you,” Mingi’s gasping, tongue swiping along your bottom lip. “You feel so good, you both feel so good, ‘m close.”
They pick up speed, finding a rhythm with one another, you at their mercy, taking it all. You lean back into Yunho’s chest and his lips find your mouth, cock splintering inside you as he licks inside your mouth, Mingi’s lips finding your chest. You feel the curl of heat then, a greater pressure, pushing against their cocks like you wanted them out. You needed them to stay in.
“She’s close,” Mingi uttered, tongue held straight out to flick against your nipple that bounced with your body, knowing your body all too well. Yunho breaks away from your mouth to slide his palm over your throat, without pressure, keeping you steady.
“So am I,” Yunho replies, sounding ragged, close to the edge. “Want us to fill you up, baby? Wanna be so full of us?”
Your eyes open to Mingi smiling, “Want me to make you a mommy? Fill this lil’ pussy up?”
Your face contorts in pleasure, mouth opening without sound. His face matches yours, but he keeps talking, “You want it, don’t you? Want your tummy so pretty n’ round, fuck– so sexy, so pregnant, wanna see your pussy dripping with my cum, tell me you want it, baby–”
“Fill me up,” your words are slurred, tasting your orgasm on your tongue. “Yes, give it to me. Give me a baby, give me more, fill me up.”
Yunho’s grunt is obscenely lewd, “Fuck, you two are insane. I’m gonna cum, cum with me, please, c’mon.”
The pressure blows, tears streaking your cheeks as you slide limply forward, slugging against Mingi’s chest, both of their names a cry on your lips. Mingi keeps a strong arm around your back as he fucks you through it, his hips staggered, Yunho’s skin slapping against yours with such strength you’re slamming into Mingi, at their mercy completely.
“I’m cumming,” Mingi says in a whimper, hips rocking into you, fucking himself through it, prolonging your orgasm as he fills you with warmth, long ropes of his release, drool dribbling out of his mouth onto your shoulder.
Yunho’s right behind him, a strained moan leaving him that only escapes when he’s finishing, emptying himself inside you, hips slowing down as he fucks himself through it. He leans forward just to lick up the drool that slipped from Mingi’s mouth, his tongue on your back makes you shudder.
They’re quick to pull out, to lay you flat on your back, to assess your body like they’d done open heart surgery. You’re swallowing down nothing, licking your dry lips, mind fuzzy, so in love as you stare at them hovering over you, concern mixed within the sweat on their brows.
Praise is a waterfall from their mouths, a mantra of you did so fucking good, you’re so beautiful, I love you, you took us so well… You’re smiling, a lazy, tired grin, reaching for them, they nuzzle up to you as soon as your arms move.
One on your left, the other on your right, both facing you, bodies so fucking hot you almost hate it, but their closeness makes you smile. You’re safe between them, your partners, your boyfriends, who always take care of you. They’d do anything to make you happy. They’d do anything to make you feel better.
You finally talk after a long while, finding solace in Yunho’s fingers dancing along your tummy, Mingi’s face pressed into your hair. “Since when do you want me pregnant?”
Mingi snorts, Yunho huffs amusement through his nose. Mingi responds, voice loud in your ear from his closeness, “Six kids, three by both of us. Three boys, three girls.”
Yours and Yunho’s heads both turn, blinking at him, surprise on both of your faces. Mingi giggles, rolling onto his back, “I’m just kidding, geez.”
It makes you laugh, an ache in your sore abdomen, their cum leaks at the clench of your muscles. You gasp, hips arching before it meets your baby pinkl comforter, rolling over onto Yunho’s leg, “I’m leaking, please carry me.”
“The comforter’s already ruined,” Yunho scoops you up into his arms. “I’ll change it while you’re in the shower.”
“No,” you cling to him, arms around his neck as he wraps a strong arm under your knees. “Stay with me. Don’t go.”
Mingi follows you in, your second shared shower of the day, letting the steaming water melt off the embarrassment and shame you felt earlier, basking in the warmth of both of them holding you, washing you, their hands on you. There was love in every touch, appreciation in each stroke of their fingers, in how they massaged your head, lathered up your supple skin, kissed you in between movements. The shower was quiet, silent, but there wasn’t a need for words, for reassurance. Their presence, their touch was enough.
They love you just as you are, you didn’t need anyone else to see you how they saw you. You needed them, and them only, and they needed you, too.
⭑ bf!mingi x gf!reader x bestie!yunho
⭑ four days away at the beach, hiding your feelings from all of your friends while you’re all under the same roof, a week after yunho broke up with you and mingi. easy enough, right?
⭑ lots and lots of pinv, mxm, oral(m&f), edging, public play, bdsm dynamics (feel free to correct me on anything!! i tried to be accurate) praise, degradation, yunho being 3comp yunho. yes that's a warning in itself
⭑ part three of three / wc 36.5k
⭑ — holy shit i can't believe it's over. thank you to everyone who stuck with me through this, this series is my actual fucking baby. it brought so many eyes to my blog and led me to meeting so many wonderful amazing people, thank you so much if you're reading this, if you have read anything about my 3comp babies. no other series has taught me so much. nothing will ever mean as much as this.
⭑ — if you don't recognize my rortor or if haos confused you, pay my good friends a visit here <3 thank u @svgaplvm for letting my people hangout with yours <3
“You can’t seriously think this would ever work.”
You and Mingi haven’t moved an inch since he left for the bedroom. Now stood in front of you in cargo pants and the same dirty tee that was crumpled on your bed, it seems his anger hasn’t dissipated in the three minutes it took for him to get his things together. A bag thrown over his shoulder, jaw locked, eyes wide and wild like you’d just sentenced him to death, it seems very clear that Jeong Yunho wasn’t coming back here.
“I was honest with you guys from the start,” his voice keeps its edge, “I told you what I look for in a relationship, what I want. There’s none of that here.”
Your teeth grit together, eyebrows slanted, fingers squeezing beneath your arms folded over your chest. “You’re overreacting,” you manage, heart running a marathon in your chest, ignoring the fact that his words hurt as you mask your feelings with a show of anger.
“You two are together,” he points between you and your boyfriend with a finger. “I shouldn’t even be part of the equation. I let this go on too long, let it become too serious.”
“You think you’re the only one to blame?” Mingi surprises you with his words, the sharpness behind them, the glossiness in his eyes the only signal of sadness. “We thought we were already in a relationship, it’s all of our fault for not communicating.”
Yunho looks like he’s seen a ghost. “You– Are you serious?”
You nod, you thought it was obvious, “Yunho, we haven't been apart for more than twelve hours in weeks.”
He turns on his heel, “I can’t believe we’re even having this conversation.”
Mingi stands, following Yunho as he crosses your living room, “You’re just going to leave? You aren’t gonna talk this out?”
You watch from the couch, breathing deep into your lungs, ignoring how your eyes watered. Yunho turns around sharply, “What is there to talk about? We were fucking, and now we’re not. That’s it.”
You gasp from the couch, Mingi shrinks where he stands. Taking a step back, shaking his head, his voice is shaky as he says, “You don’t mean that.”
“I told you,” Yunho slips his feet into his shoes. “I’ve been honest from the start. If you took it more seriously, that’s on you. I’m sorry.”
Mingi’s arms fall to his sides as Yunho leaves through your front door, the heavy oak slamming shut behind him. Your heart breaks as Mingi’s head hangs low, his shoulders shaking, and it’s the sniff you hear from the couch that gets you on your feet, wrapping your arms around your boyfriend.
“He’s just scared,” you whisper, tears lining your own eyes as Mingi racks a sob into your chest. “He’s just scared, Min. He’ll come around.”
His voice is wrecked, ragged and layered with grief, “I can’t believe he said all of that.”
“Me either,” you shake your head, tears slipping down your cheeks as you run your fingers through his hair, your other hand rubbing circles into his back. “It’s Yunho, we know how he is, especially with relationships.”
“I thought we were different,” Mingi picks his head up, pulling away from you to wipe his eyes. “I thought he was getting over his dramatic relationship block because of us.” He sniffs, then speaks through another sob, his voice cracking, “I thought he loved us, too.”
“You love him?” Your eyes widen, hands landing on his shoulders, and he nods without hesitation. “Shit,” you mutter under your breath, eyes screwing shut in an attempt to get your mind to bypass the shock so you can think.
“Don’t you?” Mingi asks, his voice small, like if you said no he might crack entirely.
His laugh crossed your mind first. Eyes squeezed to crescents, grin spread wide, head tipping back as the most beautiful sound left his lips, you always got lost in him when he laughed. A hearty chuckle or a small giggle, when Yunho was emitting nothing but pure joy… Yeah, you loved him.
You loved how he walked closest to the street, how he already had your order memorized at the cafe around the corner. You loved how he touched you, soft and delicate, how he complimented you every time he saw you. You loved that he wasn’t afraid to say the hard things, like telling you that you snore, or that this time your boss was in the right. You loved that he kept small pieces of you close in the years of knowing you, how he revealed his knowledge of you in the past month, how he wasn’t afraid to show his passion.
You loved him, and you fucking knew he loved you back.
“Yeah,” your nod isn’t immediate. “I think I do.”
Mingi’s lip quivers, “We’re just gonna let him leave?”
“We’re adults,” your voice is shakier than you need it to be, forever the rock holding Mingi’s hurricane. “He’s an adult. If he wants us, this, he’ll come back.”
Mingi shakes his head profusely, taking a step back from you, “If we love him then we fight for him, I’m not waiting around while he thinks this is over.”
Your lips curve upward, the most Mingi thing he’s ever said, “We’ll be with him for four days at the beach. Let him sit in the hole he’s dug himself in, let him miss us for a few days.”
Mingi looks at you like you’re speaking another language, “He probably won’t even look at us while we’re at the beach if we wait until then.”
“If we love him,” you step closer to him. “Then chances are he loves us, too. Let him take the time he needs to realize it.”
Mingi takes a heavy breath, thinking about who Yunho is, how he handles situations. With poise, consideration, vigilance. He thinks of all outcomes, all strategies, Yunho thinks of everything with his mind, and not always his heart. Mingi nods, because he hopes that just this once, he’ll think with his heart, and figure out the rest later.
Yunho hasn’t called.
Not a text, not a word, not a breath.
But you were on your way to Haos– and from Wooyoung’s call this morning, asking what time to pick you up, you found out that he’d talked to Yunho just before he called you, and he was still coming to the beach. A shred of relief washed over you as the words left his mouth, it couldn’t be that bad if he was still coming to the beach, four days spent in proximity with you and your boyfriend. And your ten other friends. Right?
“Do you want to stop at the convenience store for anything? Water, coffee, a snack?” Wooyoung asks from the driver’s seat, black hair shagged over his ears, his forehead, curling at the nape of his neck.
Sana groans from the seat beside you, “Can we just go straight there? I’m itching to be on the beach with a drink in my hand.” Dressed in jeans and a strappy tank, heels on her feet, curled dark locks framing her cheekbones, she looked like she was going to the club rather than traveling for a vacation. Being eight in the morning, you looked like you just rolled out of bed.
Mainly because you did.
“I wasn’t just asking you, San,” Wooyoung cuts from the front of the black rental he drove. “We’ve been driving for an hour already.”
“Which means we should only have ten more minutes in the car if you just drive,” she bites back, rolling her eyes. She gives you a look, shaking her head as if Woo was asking the stupidest question in the world. She whispers to you, “He should have asked an hour ago.”
You smile at her instead of giving her an answer, redirecting your gaze to the top of Mingi’s head that peeks over the headrest of the passenger seat. After spending some time away from her, you thought you’d at least be a little excited to see her, but alas, she still drives you up a fucking wall. You could have gone longer.
You lean your head against the window for the last ten minutes, listening to soft rock music with your eyes glued to the intricate, tall houses along the coast, the small shops, the ice cream parlors, everything about this place screaming beach. Summer. Rich summer. You were still excited to come here, drama aside, spending time with your friends, cozying up in one of San’s queen-sized beds in one of his several bedrooms. You loved his house, the feeling it gave you, how badly you’d like to own something like it one day.
You didn’t mind four days of pretending it was yours, nor did you mind laying on the beach, a drink in your hand. Maybe you’d shove your feelings aside and stay glued to Sana all weekend.
Finally pulling up on a rocky driveway, you pull your eyes away from the beach just beside it, taking in the cream-colored fucking mansion before you. Ridiculous architecture, a two-car garage, a double main staircase, several balconies and a fenced rooftop, what always took your breath away was the windows. So much light poured into the house, salt scented air rushing through the space when the countless pairs of double doors opened, this house screamed happiness. It screamed carefree.
You let the feeling fill you, let it take a weight off your chest as you stretch your body upon leaving the backseat. Whatever happened this weekend, you’d accept. However you and Mingi returned home, with or without another boyfriend, you’d be okay. Both of you.
You took a look around the driveway as Wooyoung and Mingi went into the trunk to grab all of your luggage. You and Mingi shared one, but Sana… She had two for herself, she bragged about it as soon as you opened the car door.
Three other cars sat in the driveway. You recognized Yeosang’s, Jongho’s, Seonghwa’s, you assumed San and Jongin’s cars were in the garage. No sign of Yunho’s car.
Mingi carried your luggage in behind you, you didn’t knock as you walked through San’s front door, nor did you have time to appreciate the creams, whites and blues stretching across the inside, because the only other person in the living room when you walked inside was Yunho.
Your jaw clenched as your eyes slid over the back of him, faced away from you as he scrolled on his phone.
“Honey, I’m home!” Wooyoung yelled from behind you, and his voice echoed through the archways of the main floor, bouncing off each perfectly staged wall, the balcony above you.
Yunho snapped around, meeting your eye, and he immediately stiffened. With one of his infamous linen sets on, barefoot and his hair swept back, you had to stop yourself from muttering damn under your breath. You loved when he looked like summer, but you also loved when he looked like winter, when he needed the comfort of fleece to keep him warm. Maybe you loved Yunho in anything.
You looked away fast, turning to face Mingi who was already staring over your head, at his best friend who had undoubtedly become something more. Mingi stared at him with hope, with an unanswered question, with so much fucking love in his eyes you felt the cracking of your heart in your chest.
“Finally!” You heard San before you saw him, shirtless and in swim trunks, body tanned and golden and sculpted by God himself. He wore a wide grin, Jongin following behind him, his boyfriend just as gorgeous as he is, taller and handsome and damn, just as sculpted.
San pulls Wooyoung into a tight hug, “I missed you, man. It’s been too long.”
“It’s barely been a month,” Wooyoung chuckles. “But yeah, too long.”
Sana’s heels click against the pale hardwood as Jongin pulls her into a hug, the two men exchanging with the couple as you and Mingi attempt to ignore the elephant in the room only visible to the two of you.
Wooyoung pulls Yunho into a hug as you and Mingi share exchanges with San and Jongin, just as the others start piling into the living room.
“We’ve been waiting for you guys!” Tzuyu squeals as she enters your view, and you’re immediately pulled into all the women of the house, sharing hugs and kisses on the cheek.
“I can’t believe we’re the last ones here,” you’re smiling, warmth filling your chest as you bathe in everyone’s excitement.
Jihyo smirks, “Late because you were getting frisky?”
You roll your eyes, heat warming your cheeks, “You need to let go of that. Like, now.”
“Frisky?” Tzuyu pops a brow. “Fill me in.”
“I went over her and Mingi’s place and saw a vib—”
“Okay!” You speak over her, hands ready to clamp over her mouth, and she winks at Tzuyu in a silent promise to fill her in later. You prayed it didn’t include Yunho’s name.
“Who has which room?” Sana asks loudly, speaking over everyone in the midst of conversation.
“We were waiting for you to decide, princess,” Seonghwa replies, voice smooth, a snarky remark hidden behind a beautiful smile. Your lips curl upward when you see him, stood tall next to his boyfriend, Seonghwa’s open shirt matched Hongjoong’s shorts.
“Jongin and I have the master,” San says. “There’s five other bedrooms, one has a pull-out futon.”
“Assuming I’m on the futon,” Yunho immediately adds, his voice flat. “Since I’m the only single one here.”
Your eyes flicker between the two, heart thumping against your chest, stomach feeling sick at hearing him say he’s single.
“You would have been fucked if you brought a date,” San's smile is anything but sheepish. “But I’m sure no one will mind if you crash their room, maybe one of the girlies are out of commission for sexual activity and it won’t matter.”
Jongin smacks his chest with a disgusted look, but San giggles to himself. You look around the room and all the girls fall quiet, all the guys stay quiet, too used to San and his remarks to feed him a reaction.
“He can room with you and Mingi,” Jihyo nudges your shoulder from beside you,.“Duh. You guys are super close, anyways, just kick him out when you wanna fuck.”
“We aren’t twenty years old, Ji,” you muster. “We can go a few days without fucking.”
You look up at Mingi and you can tell he’s teetering on the edge of losing his shit. You turn to Yunho and he looks like that’s the last thing he wants. Seeing his face, the clear dislike of the idea, imagining the thoughts racing through his mind, all of it combined makes you slap a smile on your face, “Yeah, that’s fine. We’ll take him.”
“Hope you left the hitachi at home,” Jihyo whispers in your ear, winking. You nudge her back, forcing the smile to stay on your face— no one has any idea of what you’ve gone through the last few days. What happened. What started it in the first place.
“Perfect!” San claps his hands together. “That was easy. Go unpack your shit and then we can go to the beach.”
Mingi is at your side as soon as everyone takes a step toward the staircase, voice a low growl in your ear, “Why did you do that?”
You whisper back, “It’ll be fine.”
You didn’t know if it would be fine.
“Three bedrooms on the second floor, two on the top, master is on the main floor. You guys can figure out which rooms yourselves,” San says from the base of the steps as you all make your way up, your shoes hitting the hardwood in chorus, everyone dragging their belongings behind them.
Yunho stays close behind you and Mingi as you check each room in search of yours, taking in the detail of the hallways, where the bathrooms were. The paintings on the walls, tables with vases, starfish, framed pictures of small sayings of wordplays with the word beach, you made sure to take in everything, let it fill you with ease, you were on vacation.
You wouldn’t let Yunho ruin it.
On the third floor, Jihyo and Jongho peeled off into a room at the beginning of the hallway, a bathroom and two closets between you as yours lived at the end. A queen-sized bed, a couch along the wall that pulled out to a bed, the room was decently sized. Cozy, with its balcony attached, white covering the walls, the bedspread and couch a pale blue.
Mingi threw your suitcase onto the bed as Yunho threw his duffle bag onto the couch. The air was tense, heavy, you could hear conversation downstairs, Jihyo and Jongho unpacking just down the hall. There was no sound coming from your room other than zippers sliding and clothes being shuffled.
You stood opposite Mingi on either side of the bed as he sorted through the suitcase, zeroed in on his hands as he separated the clothes you were hanging from the ones going into drawers. With your bottom lip tucked between your teeth, you stood focused, yet thinking of nothing as your ears rang, buzzing beneath the heaviness of silence.
What was he thinking right now?
Your eyes flickered to him as he pulled clothes out of his duffel bag, folding them along the couch, laying out the clothes he was hanging up, keeping his toiletries separate. Your gaze fell on his shoulders, broad and muscular beneath the linen he wore, the length of his legs stretching to the floor beneath him, bare feet pressed against hardwood, stepping to the side to fold another tee along the cushion.
You turn your attention back to Mingi, shaking off the discomfort as you grab the clothes to hang up, heading for the closet next to the couch. You lay the clothes over the armrest, hanging up tops, Mingi’s favorite pair of nice pants, the dress you brought to wear to the bar on Saturday. You think that’s the only time you were going out all weekend other than to small shops around the town.
The last shirt you had to hang, one of Mingi’s, you knew you grabbed it from the stack of clothes on the bed, but it wasn’t splayed out on the couch beside you. Brows furrowed, you turned on your heel to check the bed, just for Yunho to be stood at your side, holding the shirt out for you while he had his own stack of clothes folded over his forearm.
You swallowed, avoiding his eye, “Thanks.”
Grabbing the shirt from his hand, your fingers brushed against each other, the feeling of his skin on yours no matter how small immediately sent a jolt of electricity up your forearm, into your shoulder. You were quick to hang up the last shirt, moving out of his way, back to where Mingi was before the dresser.
While he laid folded clothes, pajamas, boxers and panties into separate drawers, you grabbed your bikinis, his swim shorts, cover-ups and the singular bra you brought to help him. The room still silent, suffocating with everything left unsaid, you began laying out your toiletries along the top of the dresser.
You could feel his eyes. Lifting your gaze, meeting his stare through the mirror, you shuffled to the side as he sauntered up next to you, throwing his own clothes into the rest of the empty drawers.
God, is this what the rest of the week was gonna be like? If so, fuck that, he can sleep on the couch. Downstairs. Far away from you and Mingi so you can enjoy this room and its balcony all to yourself.
“Hey!” Tzuyu gleamed, knocking on the doorframe at the same time as she spoke. You jumped a foot in the air, hand clasping your chest, a gasp escaping your chest. She giggles, long brown hair in a braid over one shoulder, bikini already on her body. “Yeosang and I are going to the liquor store before we head down to the beach, want anything?”
“Uh,” you glance up at Mingi, trying to find words. “Tequila, beer, some kind of seltzer to sip on. The usual shit.”
She nods, “Same beer as always, right?”
“Please,” Mingi nods back, giving her a smile that she would never know wasn’t real.
Your stomach fucking aches. You could push your pain aside, but when it comes to Mingi, seeing him hurt in real time, you could feel it as if he shared it with you. Your jaw locks, you could not go the whole week like this.
Tzuyu peeks her head back in, “You should get ready, we’ll be back in ten.”
“Got it,” you smile, and when she bounces out of your room again, it drops. You needed to do something. You rack your brain as you zip the suitcase closed, shoving it beneath the bed, sitting on the edge of the mattress.
Yunho was pretending. He was forcing a mindset on himself, ignoring his feelings for you and Mingi, he was putting on a show that he didn’t mean. In his head, he was protecting himself, or maybe he was protecting you two from getting hurt, of what could go wrong in the future.
You glance up at Mingi who stood leaned up against the dresser, on his phone. You glance over at Yunho who sits on the couch, on his phone. Just because he was acting like he doesn’t love you, doesn’t mean that he believes it.
Your eyes land on Mingi again, holding them there. He looks up from his phone, meeting your stare.
Your lips curve upward. I’m gonna do something crazy.
He pops an eyebrow, lips crinkling. Oh no.
Your smile grows, eyes flashing something dangerous. You gotta trust me on this one.
Mingi nods, face still wary. I always trust you.
You push yourself up off the bed to the dresser, opening one of the drawers, pulling out one of your bikinis from the bottom. You should really thank Jihyo for even putting it in your mind that you should wear one of your college bikinis— so small and skimpy it could barely be considered anything other than string, you funneled confidence into your veins. You wouldn’t care about how you looked after a drink or two, anyways.
Your eyes meet Mingi’s through the mirror, bikini in your hands. Are you picking up what I’m putting down?
Mingi shoots you a silent laugh. You’re fucking nuts.
You stick your tongue out. You love it.
Mingi licks his lips. I love you, and that bikini.
You hold his eyes through the mirror. Remember what I said, trust me.
Letting your eyes dance over Yunho once more, you lay the bikini out over the dresser, and then pull your shirt over your head in one quick motion.
“Shiiit,” Mingi mutters under his breath, long and dragged out from the bed, purposely loud enough for Yunho to hear. His eyes pick up, seeing you through the mirror, eyes catching on you shimmying your shorts down your legs, then your panties.
You don’t let your gaze linger, pulling the bottoms up your legs, then tying the top around your back. “Min, can you tie me?”
He’s at your back in an instant, letting his hands dance along your waist before settling at the back of your neck, bikini strings between his fingers. You’re smiling at each other through the mirror and it’s then that you know he understands what’s going through your mind, the plan you cooked up just a minute ago.
His hands settle on your hips after he finishes tying your top, and both of your eyes slide to Yunho, catching him just as he looks back down at his phone, fingers pressed to his forehead. You smirk at Mingi through the mirror, wondering if maybe you pushed Yunho just a little harder, could you crack the shell of his facade?
Yunho’s never been a huge fan of the beach. He burns easily, sand gets between his toes, in places he simply can’t reach, he hates how his hair looks after being in the breezy, salty air for too long. He’s been excited to come to Haos despite it, to spend time with you and Mingi away from home, but he didn’t give it enough thought to really consider the logistics of it all.
To himself, he thought it easy: Around everyone else, you and Mingi would be your usual selves, madly in love for the world to see. At the end of the night, behind closed doors, where no one could hear you or see you, that’s when he’d have his way with you both. He’d be lying to himself if he said he wasn’t excited for that most of all.
Forcing you into submission, into silence in the dead of night, so the whole house couldn’t hear the whiney moans that leave Mingi’s mouth when Yunho takes him, or the shrill screams that Yunho pulls from your chest when he pushes you just a little too far. It’d be fun— that was fun to him, keeping the two of you hidden away, his two nasty little secrets. No one had to know.
Because if they did, if anyone knew anything, it’d break your perfect bubble. He’d be forced to admit that he hated the idea of not being able to touch you in public, not being able to kiss you, or even flirt with you. Either of you. Which opens another question, one Yunho wasn’t willing to answer, or give any more of his attention.
Luckily, it blew up in his face before he had the chance to worry about it too much, like it has a hundred times before with plenty of different partners. This was the routine— fuck for awhile, become a little more on accident, realize that this isn’t what he wants, leave. Leave, leave, leave. Yunho was good at leaving, at hiding, at not taking what he wants when it’s staring at him in the face.
It was too fucking vulnerable. He ached for love, for true routine, to wake up next to someone and go grocery shopping on Sunday mornings. He yearned for someone to know him down to his core, to love him for the silly things, not just how he fucked or how he guided. For how much he needed to take care of his partners, he never realized how much he needed to be taken care of, too.
This morning, how you stared at him with a locked jaw, a storm in your eyes, he knew he deserved it. He deserved your anger, your pain, he wishes he could take it from you and keep it for himself. How Mingi looked at him, with pain and love and hope, seeing Mingi’s feelings raw in his eyes terrified Yunho. Knowing Mingi hurt, that he was the cause of his ache but also knowing he’d take him back in a second, it sent a shiver down his spine, leaving a hole too deep, too cold in his gut.
He really fucked up this time. He really, seriously, absolutely fucked up. He's fallen asleep cuddled up to your side, he’s woken up beside you for weeks. He’s gone grocery shopping with you, he keeps a mental list of everything you have in your house. You made space for him in your home, for his body and his clothes, he has a toothbrush beside your sink, products in your shower, socks in the top drawer of Mingi’s dresser. He’s felt the rush of affection when Mingi finishes his sentence, he’s felt the pain sitting in the crease of your brow without it having anything to do with him.
He walked into what he was most afraid of, but what he’s yearned for without even realizing. Everything happened so fucking fast. That night with Mingi was the true beginning, he thinks, the catalyst that made him fall headfirst without casting a net. That night changed all of your boundaries, leaving everything in open field for the taking. Yunho took it with greedy hands, but then he destroyed it all the same.
He knows what you’re thinking. In that pretty little head of yours there’s millions of beautiful, strategic thoughts, plans, ways to get him back in your bed. Even though he fucked up. Even though he was the one that destroyed it all.
The curve of your chest in the mirror, a peek of the goldmine between your legs as you bent over, if this was a week ago he would have pinned your chest to the glass and fucked you until you were crying just for teasing him. Mingi’s hands trailing down your skin, his breath on the back of your neck, jealousy infested Yunho like a disease. He could feel the ghost of Mingi’s hands on his body, on his chest, his abdomen, his torso, he forced himself to tear his eyes away so he didn’t break.
Yunho was the one who fucked it all up, and here you two were, trying to get him to fix it. Naive and optimistic, two traits that you two shared that made Yunho feel like he was your missing piece. He wouldn’t break so easily, you two have to know that, you know him.
He watches you run across the sand, wet chest bouncing beneath golden sunrays with a can grasped in your palm. Mingi follows you from the water, trunks slick to his thighs, the inseam of his shorts shorter than any other pair he owned. Yunho sits with his jaw locked, his fingers curled around the armrests of the beach chair beneath the umbrella, watching as Mingi picks you up from behind, a grin on his lips as he presses them to your cheek.
You two didn’t do PDA. You haven’t since you were in your early twenties, when your relationship just began. Everyone in the group knows it, but no one notices, no one pays any mind to the clear show you were putting on just for him. Mingi’s arm is hooked around your torso, black hair clinging to his cheeks, his neck, the two of you dripping in saltwater and love. He keeps you there, hanging off his arm as he walks back up to where you set up, your giggles becoming clearer, reminding him of his favorite song the closer you get.
He could just get up and go back inside. The beach was San’s backyard, after all.
“Can you hand me another seltzer, please?” You ask sweetly as soon as Mingi puts your feet back on the ground. Yunho blinks beneath his shades before the question registers in his mind, it’s the first that you’ve spoken to him other than thanks in the bedroom.
He reaches into the cooler, making sure to hand you your favorite flavor, feeling bile rise up in his throat when Mingi opens it for you and plants a kiss on your lips before you take a sip. Maybe he had it all wrong— maybe you didn’t fucking care that Yunho was no longer apart of your relationship. Maybe, in some sick, twisted way, what happened just a few days ago made your relationship stronger. Seems about right for the two of you.
“Let’s play volleyball!” Wooyoung shouts over the hum of soft rock music and waves in his ear. He forces his eyes away from you two to glance at Wooyoung, holding a volleyball to his chest while beads of sweat drip down his bronzed, tanned skin.
“Hell no,” Sana responds from her towel, laying on her stomach with a bucket filled with God knows what kind of liquor in the sand just above her head. “We’re relaxing.”
“I meant the guys,” Wooyoung replies, the smile on his cheeks never faltering, ignoring his girlfriends’ tone completely. He wiggles his eyebrows at Yunho, “You up for it? A little friendly game?”
“I’m out,” Hongjoong responds from his chair, can of beer in his hand, head laid back along the headrest beneath the shade of the umbrella, “I just ate a gummy.”
“I’m out, too,” Yeosang lifts his head from his towel, Tzuyu at his side, the two of them cuddled up so close under the burning sun he wondered how they weren’t suffocating.
“I’m going to swim,” Jongin waves a hand, already turning his heel to walk down to the shore.
“I’m down,” Yunho says, needing a break from staring, standing from his chair.
“I’m down, too,” Mingi adds as if on command, pressing another kiss to your lips before walking towards where Wooyoung stood behind Yunho.
San, Jongho and Seonghwa make their way towards them, too, and Yunho quickly regrets his decision when Mingi stops directly at his side. He stiffens, eyes glancing down to where Mingi’s hand lingers inches beside his.
“Three versus three then?” San smirks as the six of them make their way towards the net across the beach. “I call Woo and Mingi on my team.”
Jongho breaks into a laugh as he leans on the pole beside the net, fingers sinking into the webbing, “So it’s me, Hwa and Yunho?”
“I think that’s fair,” San shrugs. “We share the towers.”
Yunho rolls his eyes, and Mingi’s smile is wide. Seonghwa dips under the net to the other side of the sandy court, “They’re both competitive, too. Think it’s best we share.”
“We can hear you, y’know,” Yunho follows, sliding into position flanking Jongho’s side, a grin crawling over his cheeks that was nothing short of competitive. “No need to fight over us.”
“First team to twenty,” Wooyoung juts out his chin from the other side of the net, “Best out of three?”
Yunho pushes out an accidental sigh, “Three games?”
Mingi, like he’d been waiting for that comment, snaps. “Why not?” He cocks his head to the side, smile dangerous. “Three games too much of a commitment for you?”
The blood from Yunho’s face drains, the amusement in his eyes gone. After Yunho’s face falls, Mingi giggles, and the rest of the guys seem completely unaware of the jab that just left Mingi’s mouth. Yunho glares at him, knowing now that the two of you are serious about getting under his skin, but he chooses to ignore the shred of pride he feels with your efforts.
The first game went by quickly— Mingi, San and Wooyoung were good. Yunho, Seonghwa and Jongho were good, too, but fell just short of their opponents. The second game went by just as fast, but instead this time it seemed Yunho’s team had a chip on their shoulder, a little too much pride to let their friends win twice. The third game, everyone was drenched in sweat, covered in sand from diving for the ball, forearms burning from bumping it, everyone’s patience was running thin. Curses were shouted, insults thrown from one side of the net to the other, they had gotten serious real quick.
Mingi and Yunho stood at either side of the net, eyes on the ball above their heads, the two of them jumping at the same time to either spike, or block. The ball fell on Mingi’s side and his eyes dropped for a millisecond to see Yunho, both hands up, palms flat out to block his spike.
Yunho, ambition living in the slant of his brows, tongue peeking between his lips, didn’t give Mingi an opening to push the ball through. So Mingi hit it to the side, just past Yunho’s hands before he could even think of sliding his arms over.
Yunho cursed, and Mingi’s arms went over his head in a cheer for winning them one more point towards victory. Mingi leaned in close to the net, a smirk on his lips, “Pay attention, Yun. You don’t want me thinking I’m distracting you, do you?”
Yunho’s jaw locks. Mingi was pushing it, he usually wasn’t the bratty one, that was your area of expertise.
“Careful,” is all he says, venom on his tongue as his chin tips upward, just to stare down at Mingi through lowered brows.
Mingi’s smirk grows, almost a full smile, fingers hooking into the net to lean closer. “Or what?”
Yunho licks his bottom lip, shaking his head as he turns around, back to where he stood, waiting for the ball to be served. Maybe he was stupid for considering you two didn’t care about him, especially after the bedroom, and now he had Mingi taunting him ten feet away?
The ball hits the sand beside his foot before he can process that it was served. Mingi, San and Wooyoung high five, cheering because they were one point away from winning, and Yunho’s teammates turn to him with a scowl.
“What are you doing?” Seonghwa stands with his arms out beside him, face warped into annoyance and confusion.
Jongho barks from beside him, “Lock the fuck in, we’re winning this.”
Yunho nods, shaking off his thoughts, “My bad.”
Then Mingi calls your name. Yunho’s head turns, watching as you turn your head from where you stood with a group of girls that weren’t a part of your group, staring as you jogged towards them when Mingi ushered you over.
That fucking bikini, all string, barely covering anything. His fists clenched when the house hooted and hollered for you, as Jihyo whistled when she saw you. It wasn’t for you. It wasn’t for Mingi. It was revenge.
His neck snaps back to the court before him when he hears San’s hand smack the ball, body moving before his brain can think, diving into the sand to bump it up. Jongho is quick to get under it, two hands setting the ball high in the air, but as Seonghwa jumps to smack it over the net, Mingi is already there.
Broad, sculpted abdomen, hard chest he’s rested his head on too many times, hipbones peeking from just above his waistband. Yunho watches Mingi’s arms flex as he blocks the ball, how his torso folds to send the ball into the sand, Yunho nearly shoves his face in the sand too when his three best friends jump for joy across the net.
Seonghwa and Jongho stand defeated, faces set toward the sun, chests heaving. Yunho gets up slowly, just to see you perched on Mingi, arms and legs hooked around his body, lips pressed to his. Mingi’s hands hold you up by your thighs, fingers making indents where they pressed into your skin, and it’s war for Yunho to peel his eyes away from the sight.
“Sorry,” Yunho runs a hand through his hair, keeping his eyes on the sand as he walks toward Seonghwa and Jongho.
Jongho clasps a hand on his shoulder, heavy but reassuring, “It’s just volleyball. We’ll beat ‘em tomorrow.”
Seonghwa nods his agreement, and at least one weight is lifted off his chest. He watches his friends duck under the net, and Yunho follows, ready to get berated by his three other friends, good sportsmanship be damned.
“This is my boyfriend,” he hears, and his eyes land on where you stood with Mingi, just beside the court with the two girls you were standing with before. One a grinning dirty blonde, the other a miserable-looking brunette, Yunho tried to listen as his friends spoke beside him, but jealousy pierced his soul that Mingi was the only one standing beside you, getting introduced as yours.
His feet moved before he could think about it, coming up to your side, and the blonde caught his eye, looking him up and down as he made his way over. You beamed, not showing a flash of surprise or confusion as Yunho stood beside you, you immediately gushed, “This is Yunho, he’s single, super tall, clearly.” You giggled, leaning into Yunho’s side, you were drunk. You whispered not quietly to the blonde, “I think you’d like him.”
Yunho’s eyebrows furrowed, weight hitting his gut with force, and the blonde before him blushed as her hands gripped the cocktail between fingers, her eyes dragging over him again.
The brunette, eyebrows low, stares at Mingi before her, “You look really familiar.”
Your hand clings to his, wrapping your fingers into your boyfriends, shoulders pushed back, no one would know you were standing your ground unless they knew you. Mingi laughs along, “Really? You kind of do, too.”
“Do you have any relatives that go to Nasara?” She cocks her head to the side, “We’re in ITZ, a sorority at Nasara University in Delo.”
Mingi shakes his head, then turns it to look at Yunho, “Do you?”
Yunho shakes his head, shrugging his shoulders, she does look familiar. Yunho asks, “Has anyone ever told you that you look like Sitara Song?”
The brunette makes a tch noise, then grabs the blonde’s hand, voice dripping in irritation, “Come on, Ror, I’m sure Wooyoung is missing you.”
The blonde looks back at him twice as the brunette drags her away, and Yunho feels unsettled. Not only are you making a show with Mingi in front of his face, taunting him, but now you’re pimping him out to strangers?
Mingi’s eyebrows are knitted together as they walk away, “They have an Wooyoung, too?”
Yunho faces the two of you with his arms crossed, “What the fuck are you doing?”
You’re already smiling, mischief in your eyes, “What do you mean?”
If the three of you were at home…
“What was that?” He asks, a hand stretching in the direction of the two girls walking away.
You giggle, back pressing into Mingi’s abdomen, “Was I wrong? You are single, aren’t you?”
Yunho laughs a low, disbelieving chuckle. He turns on his heel, past the court, back to where you set up, sitting back in the chair he was sulking in before. He reaches into the cooler, pulling out a can of beer. If this was how the weekend was going to be, he might as well be drunk for it, too.
Clean and close to sober, your hair was still wet after your shower as you sat around the bonfire, sweats on your body, under a blanket on the sand. Even in Haos the beach was cold at night, a sharp breeze ruffling everyone’s hair, egging the fire to blaze higher.
Yunho barely looked at either of you during dinner. Lounged out on the back balcony after grilling, he laughed along with everyone, cracking jokes and engaging in banter, but he shut you and Mingi out. After his second beer it was as if he put a wall up, he was choosing to not let the two of you bother him, not that you had much to bother him with after the beach.
Fear lived in all your joints that you took everything too far as you sat cuddled up to Mingi, head on his shoulder. With Yunho on your other side, you tried not to let your eyes slide to him, despite his closeness. Even mad, even apart you still drifted together, you try to let the thought relieve you, but you’re too tightly wound to let anything but his hands steady your heart in your chest.
You missed the way Yunho doesn’t see your fear. Instead, all his tunnel vision allows is the way your arms lay over Mingi’s, the way you melt against your boyfriend, how comfortable Mingi looks with your body touching his. You don’t see his frustration, how his mind whirls a mile a minute in yearning to have any part of you two touching him, too.
“You guys must have needed a vacation,” Hongjoong declared from across the fire, the growing blaze making his orange hair burn brighter, white teeth still shining despite the warmth laying over all of you.
You smile, and Mingi agrees in a small noise from beside you. San perks up in a chuckle, “I haven’t seen you two act like that in years. There’s really never any trouble in paradise, huh?”
Mingi snorts, and you close your eyes with a smile on your lips. If only they knew what trouble was terrorizing your paradise right now.
Jihyo cracks a laugh, holding up a hand like she just remembered something hilarious, “No, can you guys remember the beginning? When they couldn’t keep their hands off each other?”
Your cheeks burn as the group laughs around the fire, a chorus of amusement and remembrance. Jihyo continues, laughter still erupting from her chest, breaking up her words, “I miss when we still had true house parties, I remember catching you guys in Yeosang’s garage.”
Mingi tips his head back with a groan at the memory, you remembered it like it was yesterday, he had you lifted on Yeosang’s father’s workbench, tools covering the space around you. Luckily, Jihyo didn’t see your legs spread for him, or his fingers hooked inside you. Your cheeks blaze hotter than the fire before you.
“That’s not the only time, either,” Jihyo’s leaning forward now, cocktail in her hands threatening to spill over the blanket on her lap.
San interjects, laughing himself, “I think we’ve all caught them once or twice throughout the years.”
Wooyoung frowns, “At least none of you have caught them in your own bedroom. That’s worse, trust me.”
Your hand covers your face, digging your forehead into Mingi’s shoulder as he laughs along, muttering Enough in a low voice. The reason you weren’t as open with your relationship anymore was being laughed about in a circle, filling your gut with embarrassment and shame, Mingi felt it.
You couldn’t see Yunho’s fists clenched at his sides, digging into the blanket above the sand. He tries to laugh along, he has a few stories he could tell himself, but he’s ruined them all with thoughts of what those memories would look like if he was included in them, too. He feels weird inside. Knowing it would always be you two, as it’s always been, but feeling so fucking frustrated that he isn’t included, as if two halves of him were fist fighting just beneath his skin.
“My bad, today just reminded me of back then,” San waves a hand, a warm smile on his lips, showing his dimples. “I’m happy to see it. I’ve missed when you were attached at the hip.”
“I was starting to get worried that you guys were chilling out too much,” Sana interrupts, her head tilted, a cheshire smile on her lips, “I assumed that’s why you didn’t have a ring on your finger yet, that your relationship wasn’t the same as it used to be.”
The circle quiets. A beat of silence lays over you, thick and heavy, her comment feels like a jab. Yunho doesn’t know why it fills his veins with ice cold rage. He bares his teeth, “Where’s the ring on your finger, Sana?”
Seonghwa gasps, Tzuyu’s eyes widen, Wooyoung cracks a smile. Everyone’s eyes dance between Yunho and Sana with fear at her awaiting rebuttal. She tips her cocktail back, takes a sip, then raises it up to Yunho with a sinister smile, “Hopefully we both see rings within the year.”
You blink in confusion and awe, sitting up straight, both of your heads turned toward the black hair sat beside you. He meets your gaze and his eyes feel warmer than they’ve been all day, since before the fight, even. The others redirect the conversation into something lighter, but the three of you stay locked in on each other, a bubble within the ash and smoke surrounding you.
You purse your lips. What was that for?
Yunho smiles. Couldn’t help myself, I guess.
Mingi lays a hand over your thigh. Sana will always be Sana, it’s not worth it.
Yunho leans into his hands stretched out behind him. I’m tired of her sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong.
Your cheeks warm with a small smile. Thank you.
After all the cans had been thrown into the fire and San had smothered it with the lid, the whole group decided it was time for bed, your day tomorrow required a full night’s sleep. Beach, boardwalk, dinner, a repeat of today, but tomorrow you could really drink. You had half a mind to stay sober tomorrow, you think you had enough day-drinking already, your brain muddled and your limbs sluggish, you didn’t miss the feeling of a hangover.
The queen sized bed felt like a cloud beneath your thighs compared to the sand you were sitting on prior, the bottle of water Mingi handed you when he entered your bedroom healing you. In a hoodie and sweats, the house much too cold for a summer night, you sat up and chugged while Mingi got his toiletries ready for a shower.
Yunho didn’t enter the bedroom until Mingi had left, drying his hair with his towel, sweats hanging low on his hips, droplets of water still trickling down his abdomen. You kept your water in your lap, lips pursed, trying to think of something to say. Just earlier today you weren’t speaking at all, you teased him all day, and then he… Sticks up for you to Sana? It doesn’t make any sense. None of this makes sense.
Yunho pulls a tee shirt over his head, barely glancing at you sitting on the bed, then reaches into the closet to grab a blanket. Folded over his forearm, he tucks a pillow under his other arm, then without as much as a word he makes for the door.
“Hello?” You sit up a little taller, confusion in the knit of your brows. “Where are you going?”
He looks back at you over his shoulder, “I’m gonna sleep on the couch downstairs.”
“No,” you answer, shaking your head, staring at him like the idea is ridiculous, because it is.
He raises his brows, “No?”
“Stay,” you urge, heart picking up speed in your chest. “We need to talk at some point.”
He finally turns around, brows still raised as he shrugs, “Talk about what?”
Your lips part but nothing comes out. Jaw clenching, you sit dumbfounded and annoyed. Talk about the fight? Talk about today? Talk about how there’s still clearly something romantic between the three of you?
“How you toyed with me all day?” Yunho finishes your thoughts, taking a step towards your bed, “How the two of you drove me up a fucking wall? How I snapped at Sana to defend you because clearly I’ve lost the ability to control myself?”
You stare at him wide-eyed, speechless, excitement rippling beneath your skin because he took a step toward you.
“They were right, you know,” he tilts his head, taking another step forward, “You haven’t been all over each other like that in years. And I sat there, knowing it was all for me, and couldn’t do a damn thing.”
“Yes, you could have,” you finally counter, voice barely above a whisper.
“What would you have me do?” He says through a sharp chuckle, “Put you over my fucking knee in front of everyone? The whole beach? That's what started all of this, right?”
“I— What do you—?”
“This all started because of sex. You worked me up all day to have me at my wits’ end when we finally got back here at the end of the night. That was the plan, right?”
You blink at him, that was the plan. Partially. “I just wanted you back here so we could talk—”
He smiles as he cuts you off, “You don’t want to talk, not really. I know what you want.”
You sigh, frustration curling your fingers around the water bottle, ignoring the heat between your legs. He drops the blanket and the pillow on the floor as he takes another step forward, thighs just touching the mattress you sat on.
“I do want to talk,” you frown, heart pounding against your chest, scared those five words will stop him from doing everything he was about to do. Voice lowering, you whispered, “I want you.”
“It’s pointless,” he shakes his head, smile dropped,.“You can’t separate it.”
“Because it’s already blended together,” your voice is still low, teetering on the edge of shaky. “The lines were crossed a long time ago, Yun.”
“That doesn’t mean it’s right,” he meets your eye, and there’s nothing kind behind them. No emotion that makes you feel like there’s any possibility of salvaging what you had. You refuse to trust it, the mask he puts on, you cling to how he’s looked at you these past weeks, with love and trust in his eyes, the mask he wears now is to protect himself.
You give him a bitter chuckle, “Who are you to tell me what’s right? Do you not feel anything when you look at me?”
“When I look at you,” he keeps his face steady, emotionless. “I see Mingi’s girlfriend.”
“You’re a liar,” you spit, sitting up on your knees, crawling closer to him on the bed. He watches, unmoving, eyes not even flickering a change in feeling. “Why did you stick up for us to Sana then?”
“Because you’re my friends, and I’m tired of hearing her project her own insecurities onto you.”
“Why were you bothered when I told that Aurora girl you were single, then?” You stand on your knees atop the mattress, almost face to face with him. “You are single, aren’t you? You want to be single.”
“I don’t want to be single,” his voice cracks, exasperated, eyebrows shooting to his hairline, “but that doesn’t mean I can just join a relationship that’s been established for over five years!”
“Why are you making it sound like a decision that’s made on a whim? We just spent the last four weeks already in one, Yunho,” you raise your voice to match his, every ounce of emotion punctuating each syllable.
“We spent the past month fucking,” he lowers his voice, words sharp enough to cut. “That’s it.”
As if every single one of your emotions swim up to your waterline, your voice cracks as tears blur your vision, “You’re a bullshit fucking liar, Jeong Yunho.”
You keep your eyes on Yunho as Mingi enters the bedroom, catching the towel hanging from his waist out of your peripherals. Yunho breaks eye contact before you do, his eyes sliding to Mingi who stares dumbfounded in the doorway, then quickly closes the door behind him when his eyes land on you.
“What’s wrong?” His eyes are wide and concerned, one hand on his towel as he quickly makes his way across the room. The streak of sunshine in a hurricane, you can feel the hostility fizzle, his presence comfort enough to cool the fire in your veins.
“Nothing,” you shake your head, then wipe your eyes with one hand as you sit back down on the mattress, legs folded beneath you. Your sniff betrays you, as if Mingi didn’t already know you were crying, “I’m fine.”
Mingi stands beside Yunho, a knit in his brow as he turns to his best friend, “What did you say?”
“Nothing I haven’t said before,” Yunho bends down, picking up the blanket and pillow he was holding before. “I’m sleeping on the couch downstairs.”
“No you’re not,” Mingi chokes out a laugh in irritated disbelief, all of his features blown out as he faces him. “You’re not leaving again, you don’t get to walk out twice.”
Yunho’s chuckle mirrors Mingi’s, his voice louder and strained, “I don’t know what else you want me to say!”
“Say you don’t want us,” you answer from the bed, voice unsteady, terrified of his answer even if you’re certain you know it already. “Say you don’t want this, and we’ll let it go.”
Yunho’s eyes dance between the two of you, the cogs turning in his mind visible in his tight features. Mingi takes a step away, walking towards the dresser, pulling out a pair of briefs to sleep in as he mumbles, “Don’t say it if you don’t mean it.”
You stare at Yunho as his lips open and close, racking his brain for something to say that isn’t that. He shakes his head, “Even if I want this, it doesn’t mean it’s right. What will everyone say?”
The slap of Mingi’s briefs against his hips sounds through the room, “Who gives a fuck what anyone has to say?” He faces Yunho, “If we’re happy, that’s all that matters.”
“It’s not that easy,” Yunho drops the blanket and pillow again, his shoulders pushed back in defense, trying to hold onto what’s left of his control as his hands wave with each word. “As much as I want to believe everything will be sunshine and rainbows, it’s you two. Your relationship is concrete, everyone’s expecting a wedding within the next few years and you want to fuck all of that up?!”
Your stomach drops with the validity of his fear, cheeks warming, ears burning hot. You and Mingi have never decided on marriage, not fully, the two of you semi-estranged from your families, not completely in a place financially to make that kind of commitment. A ring, a big party to show off your relationship was nowhere in the near future. A house came first. Stability came first.
Yunho knows that. He knows all of that, but his fear is still valid– because what happens when you are stable? You and Mingi never got that far, the rest was hopes and dreams that would maybe come true one day. You swallow, sniffing again, raising a hand to wipe what’s left of your lingering tears as understanding turns into a bloom of warmth in your chest.
“I understand this isn’t normal,” Mingi takes a step toward Yunho, confidence clear in his voice, it seems you’ve switched places since the last time you talked. Mingi looks over Yunho’s shoulder to meet your eye for a second before looking at Yunho again, “But this won’t fuck anything up, Yunho, our relationship has always been… What it is. This.”
“Your relationship,” Yunho reiterates, his voice quiet, body leaning towards Mingi. “What if that doesn’t stay the same with me in the picture? What if down the line, you decide you want to get married? Do you want kids? Where does that leave me?”
A rush of something you can’t describe swallows you whole. It was overwhelming enough having this conversation with Mingi, and you haven’t had the conversation again with Yunho in the picture, what that would look like for the three of you. Tears crawl their way back up, a tightness in your throat, heat in your cheeks. You didn’t have an answer to his question, fear leaves your stomach hollow, your limbs tingly.
“We’re not asking you to make a decision now,” Mingi’s hands curl around his waist. “Even if it seems like we are. All we know is that we want to be with you, we’re willing to figure all of the details out together, with you. We want you, Yunho, isn’t that enough to at least try?”
Yunho’s head dips down, his face hidden, sucking in a deep, grounding breath. You need to touch him, feel close to him, you need your skin on his, you need to feel like he still wants you. It feels like losing him– a sentiment you can’t bear to accept, you haul yourself off the bed and press yourself into his back.
“This is a lot,” his voice is smaller than you’ve ever heard it, weak, frail, strained with uncertainty. “I don’t know what to do, I- I want you too, but this is,” his voice breaks. “Terrifying.”
“I know,” you feel Mingi’s hands swimming along his sides as you keep your cheek pressed to his back, your fists balled into the cotton of his tee. Mingi continues, “You can do it, the commitment, the titles. It’s scary and vulnerable, but it’s us, we won’t hurt you.”
Another trembling breath leaves him as his forehead meets Mingi’s, his hands resting on your own, curled into his shirt. Your lip quivers, trying so hard to keep your own tears in to be the stability he needs, the rock you're used to being; seeing him hurting is like an arrow through your chest, it hurts the same way it does with Mingi.
“You don’t need to make a choice,” Mingi whispers. “But don’t shut us out. Don’t make us think we don’t mean anything to you.”
“I’m sorry,” Yunho whispers, sniffing, his body rigid between the two of you. “I didn’t mean to, I didn’t mean any of it, I was scared. I am scared.”
You press your lips to his clothed spine, “It’s okay, Yunho.”
He squeezes your hands, palms over knuckle, his touch is grounding. Mingi’s hands glide from his waist over his chest up to the curvature of his shoulders, landing there for a moment as Yunho’s head perks up. Mingi leans in, lips grazing Yunho’s as his hands move to his neck, sliding up to cup his cheeks.
“Can I kiss you?” Soft, honest. Yunho barely gives him a nod before Mingi attaches their lips, Yunho’s hands darting to his waist. You keep your hands on him, body pressed into him, feeling Yunho’s body relax, shoulders drooping, back arching into Mingi’s touch.
Their lips move slowly, unhurried, a practice of searching for something in one another, finding it, reveling in it. The air changes around you, expanding, room opening, tension slipping through the balcony door and into the saltwater air, dissipating into the humidity. Yunho’s hands find Mingi’s cheeks and they move together, bodies arching into one another, getting lost in emotion and feeling and longing, you could feel all of it, it bled from both of them and into you, watching from behind.
Hands on Yunho’s waist, you guide him backward until your back hits the bed. You crawl onto it, never breaking your eyes from the pair, watching as Yunho uses one hand to support himself while Mingi lays him down onto the mattress.
“I missed you.”
You’ve never heard him sound like that before. Emotional– soft and whiney, honest, like he’d pulled the words from the deepest part of his consciousness, a box he kept tucked away. It has you moving, crawling over to them, inserting yourself into their bubble. Yunho’s hand reaches for your cheek as soon as you come into view, your eyes meeting, and for the first time you see him consumed by lust without the harsh blade of control in his eyes. Raw, open, free, there’s nothing but delicacy swirling in chocolate brown as he pulls you down into him, attaching his lips to yours like he’d been waiting to do it all day.
Hungrier than those with Mingi, his lips move quickly, tongue slotting between your lips to search your mouth for something true, as if you haven’t given him all of you since the start. “I want you,” you whisper, sharing his breath, a soft smile curving your lips before he swallows down your words with his mouth. You swing one leg over his hips and he sits up on an elbow, his other hand moving to your hip for leverage as he pushes himself up until he’s sitting, shifting you properly on his lap.
Mingi moves behind him, hands on his waist under his shirt, lips finding his neck with soft presses of his lips as your fingers reach for the hem of his tee. “Need this off,” you whisper into his mouth. “Want to feel you.”
Mingi’s the one who pulls the cotton tee over his head, lips finding Yunho’s shoulder as you kiss his lips again, tongue dancing with his, hands splayed on his pecs, letting the warmth of him seep into you. Yunho reaches beneath your hoodie, fingers cold as they dance along your skin, palms curled around your waist while his thumbs brush against your abdomen, his touch is soft, like he’d break you if he pressed too hard.
You break the kiss only to pull the hoodie over your head and Mingi steals Yunho’s lips, using two fingers to his chin to turn his face. You watch them for a moment before leaning in, lips following the curve of his jaw down to his throat, flattening your tongue down to the base of his neck, sucking into his skin just above his collarbone. He tastes clean, like his bodywash, him, your hands find the waistband of his sweats, tugging them downward.
Yunho gasps as you slip them from under him, hips moving easily for you, “I– Are you sure?”
You’re nodding on command, “Of course, I’m sure.”
He’s talking as you tug his briefs down to his thighs. “I said a lot of things.”
“You didn’t mean them,” Mingi answers as you settle yourself between his thighs, coaxing Yunho backward until his back is pressed to his chest.
His cock stands tall against his pelvis, pink-kissed and leaking, it makes your mouth water. Yunho’s hips twitch as your nails graze his thighs, making you smile, eyeing him through your brows. He looks… scared. Like this was unknown territory, his eyes wide, red splotched chest rapidly rising and falling, fingers curled into the sheets beside him.
It makes you want to take care of him in the same way he’s always taken care of you.
“Is this okay?” You ask softly, making him nod. Your head tilts, needing the words to continue, “Do you want this?”
“Yes– fuck,” his hips twitch again, brows raising like he’s surprising himself. “I want it, I want you. Please.”
There’s a pit in your gut as the plea leaves his lips and you’re wrapping your fingers around his length, making a show of the glob of spit dropping from your tongue and onto his length, using your fingers to spread it. He groans, head tipping back into Mingi’s chest as you start working his length with your hand, watching him carefully. So pretty, hair mussed about, chest splotchy and body twitching, you wonder if this is how you look beneath him. You dip your head down, tongue lolling out of your mouth to lick at his tip, salty, raw, Yunho– you wrap your lips around him and suck.
“Fuck,” he draws out the word, low and heavy, a hand reaching down to tangle into your hair. You let him ease you down his length, tongue flat against the underside of him, lips suctioned tight. “Missed that fuckin’ mouth.”
There he is. You smile, barely, lips stretched around the width of him, bobbing your head as your fist works the base of him, pumping, twisting, gripping him just right– the moan he releases is nothing but nasty, Mingi swallows it, stealing his lips again, you can hear their mouths as much as you can hear your mouth around his length, everything wet, sloppy. Mingi’s hands reach beneath his arms to his chest, thumbs flicking over his nipples and his hips buck into you, making you gag, a hand clawing into his thigh, eyes squeezing tight.
“Sorry– fuck,” he curses again, voice desperate, “feels so good, don’t stop.”
You take him down your throat, gagging yourself purposefully as your nose meets the tuft of black hair at his base, the hand that was curled around him reaching below, cupping his balls softly, tightening your throat around him as you squeeze your palm ever so lightly. The sound that leaves him is obscene, abdomen clenching, his hands finding Mingi’s thighs, nails digging into his skin. You bob your head, breathing through your nose to keep him deeply rooted in your throat, constricting around him just to hear that noise over and over.
“Oh my god,” his voice is strained, harsh, “I’m gonna cum– I want to fuck you, please, wait–”
His hand finds your hair but you don’t budge, keeping your rhythm on his cock, nose buried in his hair as your saliva drips from your lips and onto his pelvis, sliding down to where your hand lays below.
“Baby, baby–”
His moan is strangled, caught in his throat as his limbs lock, legs straightening while his grip tightens in your hair, hips bucking into your mouth once, twice before his release shoots down your throat. You swallow him down, keeping your mouth suctioned to him as you ride out his high until he’s shaking, slipping off of him with your tongue still flat to ensure you’ve gotten every last drop.
You break off of him with a pop, eyes glassy as you find him winded. Chest heaving, head lazily thrown on Mingi’s chest, your brown-haired boyfriend just smiled proudly from behind him.
“Mouth just as dangerous as your pussy,” Mingi says, hands still splayed across Yunho’s abdomen, fingers softly petting his skin.
“Only for you,” your smile is coy, of all things. Crawling up to where they sat, you lean down and press a kiss to Mingi’s lips, then one to Yunho’s. He still looks winded when you pull away, making you giggle, “You okay?”
He nods, “I just… I haven’t come since the last time, with you. Need a second.”
You snort, “A whole week, is that a new record or something?”
Yunho smiles, laughter in the exhale through his nose, “Don’t get smart with me, I haven’t forgotten about today.”
You lean down to press another kiss to his lips, keeping yourself close as you say, “Been waiting for the chance to do something about it, like you said?”
His eyes flicker up to yours. In that one sentence it’s as if you reminded him who he was, what he’s capable of. These eyes you know, deep and controlled, harsh in a way that tickles your spine. Your core clenches around nothing, tongue poking out to lick over your lips, anticipation heating your blood.
“Take off your pants, sit at the top of the bed.”
He barely gets the sentence out before you’re shimmying yourself out of your sweatpants, crawling up to your pillows. You’re vibrating as Yunho turns to Mingi, standing up on his knees, grabbing the younger man with one palm below his jaw to pull him upward. Mingi scrambles to his knees, brows already furrowed, lips still touching in the center as they part.
Yunho smashes his lips into Mingi’s, there’s nothing graceful about the way his other hand digs into the nape of Mingi’s neck, making him arch into the older man with a whimper pouring straight into his mouth as his hands find Yunho’s biceps for leverage. It’s messy, rough, Yunho picking him apart with nothing but his lips– it makes your knees tie together, adding pressure between your thighs.
“You,” Yunho starts, the word accusatory, giving Mingi another unforgiving press of his lips before he continues. “Teased me all day. Taunting me during volleyball, in front of our friends, do you have anything you want to say to me?”
“I’m sorry,” Mingi squeaks, fingers curling into Yunho’s biceps, the sound makes a smile spread across your cheeks, eyes flaring.
“Louder.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Better,” Yunho mumbles, reaching down to pull his shirt up and over his head. One hand reaches down to palm Mingi over his briefs, palm flat and fingers splayed over his length, and Mingi folds upon contact. Head dipping low, abdomen clenching, a groan spills from his lips as his hips buck into Yunho’s touch.
“Don’t tease,” Mingi whispers, voice a strangled moan.
Yunho huffs a laugh, “Like you teased me earlier? You can dish it out but you can’t take it?”
Mingi lifts his head up to look at Yunho just as he starts grinding his palm against his length, bare chest leaning into Mingi’s, using his height to his advantage to look down at him. Mingi sputters, “T-That’s different, Yun. We were trying–”
“Trying to what?” Yunho squeezes his length and Mingi whimpers. Yunho smiles, “Bait me into fucking you in front of everyone?”
“No–”
“Then what?”
“Wanted to feel like you still wanted us,” Mingi says it all in one strained breath, his voice rising in pitch as Yunho’s hand slips beneath his briefs, fingers wrapping around his length.
“I wanted you,” Yunho’s voice slips into something quieter, other hand reaching up around Mingi’s neck, thumb brushing over his bottom lip as before brings his face to Mingi’s, lips almost touching. “The whole time.”
“You left,” Mingi’s voice is barely above a whisper, shaky, a hiss leaving his lips when Yunho twists his wrist, palm closing over the tip of his cock. Yunho pushes Mingi’s briefs down his thighs, lowering Mingi down until his knees are spread, arms splayed behind him, cock jumping against his pelvis, red, angry and leaking like a fucking faucet.
“Do you want my mouth?” Yunho, between Mingi’s knees, asks before his eyes slide to you at the top of the bed. “Or do you want to be filled?”
Mingi’s brows raise. “I get a choice?”
Yunho shrugs. “My way of saying sorry.”
Both of their eyes slide to you and your eyes widen under their attention, back straightening against the pillows. They drink in your posture, knees pressed together, hands scrunched in the sheets as if that’s the only thing keeping you from slipping your hand between your legs.
“Come.”
Yunho’s voice is unyielding, it has you crawling across the mattress on all fours, landing on your knees before them. Mingi’s head tilts, “Thought I had a choice?”
Yunho snorts his amusement, “Like you’d choose anything other than my cock filling you up.” He plants a hand against your cheek, leaning down to place a kiss on your forehead, “You can kiss while I prep him, but don’t touch.”
You nod, eager as you settle yourself laid down in front of Mingi, your beautiful boyfriend who already looked so gone. Cheeks pink, chest heavy, his muscled biceps land on either side of your head against the mattress, your calves curling over his thighs with him above you. His cock lands against your lower tummy, heavy, sticky, the order not to touch has your heart picking up speed in your chest, a desire you can’t fulfill.
“Hi, baby,” Mingi’s smiling as he presses one, soft kiss to your lips. Your arms are bent up, hands on either side of your shoulders, palms faced up with your fingers loose and limp, hips fighting the urge to buck up into him.
You push out a sigh, “Need you,” your back arches instead, nipples pebbling beneath the breeze that drifts through the room. “Wanna feel full.”
He places another soft kiss on your lips, “Soon.” He deepens the kiss, tongue pushing into your mouth, you can taste him, taste Yunho, it makes you moan into him, fingers twitching because you want them on his face, in his hair, around his cock.
Yunho leaves the bed to cross the room, you hear him opening the closet, the zipper of the duffel he brought sliding open, but Mingi’s tongue is licking into your mouth, rendering you thoughtless, you don’t care to look over. “Wanna touch you,” you whisper, back arching more until your nipples press against his warm skin, whining at the contact.
“Patience, baby,” his lips find your jaw, elbows closing in around your head, tongue sliding down to your neck to lick a stripe back up to your jaw. You moan, legs tightening around his thighs, hips bucking against his length that tapped against your stomach with each movement. Torture, being naked beneath him, wanting so badly to touch, to feel.
You feel the dip of the bed when Yunho kneels behind him, you hear the cap snapping open on what you can only assume is a bottle of lube. It makes you smirk, knowing he brought it with him, that it was in his bag, waiting to be used. Yunho’s palms flatten over Mingi’s ass, and his head dips down into your shoulder at the contact, in anticipation of what comes next.
You watch over Mingi’s shoulder as Yunho squirts some into his hand, closing it before running two fingers down the space between, thumb circling his hole. Mingi’s whole body jerks, gasping into your neck, cock digging into your stomach.
“Open up for me,” Yunho says softly, “let me in.”
Mingi’s knees spread a little wider, lips meeting your shoulder, your neck, back arching lower, the position Yunho likes. Yunho keeps his eyes on you beneath him as he pushes a finger inside, his own brows furrowing together at the feeling of him, the tightness around his digit.
“Shit,” Mingi whimpers into your skin and one hand comes up to tangle in his hair, relaxing him into the stretch, all while keeping your eyes on Yunho.
“That’s it,” Yunho nods, voice just above a whisper, “there you go.”
Yunho bites his lip as he crooks his finger and Mingi fucks back, head lifting from your shoulder to push himself into the older man, moaning like it’s the best thing he’s ever felt. You quickly turn your head to catch a glimpse, his slacked jaw, eyes softly shut, brows knitted together in pleasure, so fucking beautiful. The sight of him when you’re wrapped around his cock versus Yunho pushing into him, the sight of his pleasure was so different, so raw seeing him this way, so open and desperate.
“Yes,” you find yourself whispering, back arching at his pleasure, almost feeling it as if it were your own.
Yunho adds another finger, making Mingi moan, lifting himself up onto his palms, head craning to see Yunho behind him. “More, gimme your cock, I can take it.”
Yunho nods, ripping open a condom packet from beside him and slipping it on in one quick motion. Tapping his cock between Mingi’s cheeks, he looks over Mingi’s shoulder to you, “Go ahead.”
At the speed of fucking light you’re reaching between you, making Mingi gasp as your fingers wrap around his length, Yunho lining himself up behind him as you line him up at your center. You didn’t need the prep, the head of his cock slipping around as soon as you brought it to your slit, sliding through your wetness until it caught against your entrance, making you gasp out a moan.
“Fuck,” Mingi’s voice sounds strangled, strained, preparing himself to fuck you full while he gets fucked full– you’ve done it plenty, but each and every time it’s overwhelming for him, for you to be fucked by Yunho’s thrusts.
“Breathe,” Yunho says, and it’s both a warning and an order as he pushes inside, making Mingi’s breath catch in his throat until he forces it down into the base of his lungs. Yunho groans, head tipping back as he slowly pushes inward until he seats himself inside.
One of your hands cups his face, pressing your lips against his unmoving ones, “That feels good?”
“Full,” Mingi grits out as Yunho bottoms out, hands squeezing his ass, face contorted in pleasure.
You smile, pressing your lips into the corner of his mouth, “Ready?”
He nods, eyes screwed shut, mouth stuck open like he’d unhinged his jaw. You tighten your legs over his thighs, an elbow planted under you, lifting your hips up to press his tip inside, and with Yunho’s next thrust he’s pushing inside, all the way, all at once. Your eyes blow wide as a shrill sound escapes you, and Yunho’s head picks up over Mingi’s back.
“If you’re loud, I stop,” Yunho grits out. “We don’t need the whole house hearing us.”
Your other arm is clawing at Mingi’s shoulder, so fucking full and stretched out it’s dizzying, you barely process Yunho’s words as Mingi catches your lips with his own. The three of you readjust closer together now that you’re positioned, and with every thrust of Yunho’s hips against Mingi, Mingi fucks into you the same.
“So tight, Min,” Yunho gasps. “Missed this ass, fuck, craved this tight fuckin’ thing.”
He’s beautiful, hair soft and messy, brows quirked in focus as he watches himself drill into Mingi, how his cock disappears, how Mingi sucks him in with each thrust. You’re clinging to Mingi, one arm over his shoulder as your hips fuck back into him, his cock curving into you just right, making you moan into his lips as his tongue steals every sound from your throat, pouring another one right back into yours.
“Faster,” you whimper, eyes lifting. “Please, Yun. More.”
“Never satisfied,” Yunho spits out through his clenched teeth, two hands gripping Mingi’s hips as he fucks into him harder, faster, ricocheting into you, body slamming into the mattress with each thrust. You’re a crying, whimpering mess, clawing into Mingi’s skin as he cries into your mouth, lost in a bubble of pleasure, Mingi’s body locking up with each thrust of Yunho’s hips.
“I’m close,” Mingi whispers, straining. “Fuck, too good, so full, you’re so tight–”
“Cum,” you whisper, hips rolling into each thrust. “Fill me up, baby. Come on.”
Yunho’s hands slide up to his waist, nails biting into his sides, “Hold it.”
Your hips buck into him faster, a pit forming in your stomach as the pleasure builds, catching Mingi’s lips again. Yunho slaps his palm against Mingi’s ass as he feels Mingi buck into you, “Hold it.”
“Can’t!” Mingi cries, “I can’t, I cant, I’m cumming–”
You moan as his cock twitches inside you, still rolling your hips against him as he fills you up, warmth spreading through your lower half. Yunho hisses from behind, “You never fuckin’ listen.”
You smile, dazed and lazy as you stare up at him over Mingi’s back, “Happens every time.”
“Fuck,” Yunho huffs, “wanted to cum inside you, Min.”
You slow your hips as Mingi’s arms waver, shaking on either side of you. “’m sorry,” Mingi says, breathless. “Felt so fucking good.”
You pull your hips off of him as you let go of his shoulder, falling flat against the bed as he crumbles on top of you, Yunho pulling out behind him. Sated, he hums into your shoulder, left hand digging beneath your back, holding you close.
Yunho slips off the condom and pulls you toward him by your ankles, Mingi’s startled enough by the action to roll off of you and onto his back, head turned with eyes half open to watch as Yunho tugs you upward by your hips. Yunho sinks down to sit on his calves, pulling your thighs over his, not wasting a second as he runs his cock through your folds, spreading Mingi’s release. You hiss at the contact, hips bucking into him, digging your elbows beneath you to hold you up. “Kiss me,” you beg, “kiss me while you fuck me, please. Need it.”
His brows furrow, lips parting like you’d just taken your cock down his throat, your words hitting like a pang to his gut. He lines himself up, cock prodding at your entrance as he leans forward, grabbing you by your waist to pull you on top of him, using your thighs on his as leverage to sit yourself over his cock.
Lowering yourself onto him, you lay your hands over his shoulders to attach your lips to his, nothing about it structured or neat as he pushes inch after inch into your heat. You moan into him, whining as you reach the base of him, feeling the full length of him in your fucking guts.
“Big,” you mumble, a whiney whisper. “Wanna cum on your cock, Yunho.”
His fingers tighten around your waist, lifting you up on his cock before slamming you back down, making you cry out into his mouth. “Quiet,” he grunts, then places a kiss to the corner of your lips. “I know it feels good, baby.”
Your fingers claw into his shoulders, “So good, missed your cock, fills me up so fuckin’ perfect, so full.”
He guides you with two hands on your waist, lifting you, lowering you, shifting you into a dirty grind, “Take me so well,” he says before he kisses you again. “Pussy so tight, missed her, missed you.”
You catch his lips, words staggered by each slap of your hips against his, “Don’t fucking leave again.”
His fingers sear your waist, squeezing so hard you’re sure they’ll leave marks behind, making you moan. You grind yourself into him, rolling your hips until his cock reaches the sweet spot inside you, a high pitched noise escaping your lungs before you can stop it.
“Shit,” you cry out, panicking at the pleasure, lowering your voice. “Shit, shit, shit– good, right there, so good.”
Yunho meets you where you roll into him and your eyes drop to watch, his sculpted abdomen flexing under the movement, how you swallow his cock with each grind, it’s too much. Mingi’s behind you before you can process it, feeling his heat before his bare skin, his lips at your neck, teeth grazing your steaming skin, fingers toying at your chest, you fall into him as your hips move on their own.
“Min,” you moan out. “Yunho, fuck– wanna cum, wanna cum,” you’re repeating the words like a mantra, Yunho’s cock kissing your walls, the tip of him running over that spot inside you like it has nowhere else to go.
“Cum,” Mingi says into your skin. “Cum around his cock, let him feel it.”
You grind your teeth, a strangled sound escaping you, so close you could fucking taste it.
“Need more, baby?” Yunho asks, breathless, jaw clenched like he was holding himself back. “My girl, never satisfied, always needs more.”
“Insatiable,” Mingi’s tongue drags along your neck and you nearly fold, the pleasure overwhelming. One of his hands dips down between you, two fingers rubbing at your clit and your eyes blow wide, entire body jerking forward at the touch.
“There she goes,” Yunho smiles and your breath completely catches in your throat, hips stuttering in their grind, he quickly uses two hands on your hips to keep you moving in rhythm. You feel it building impossibly further, your orgasm right below the surface, your skin vibrating, your breath coming out in shallow bursts.
Mingi reaches up, one hard pinch to one of your nipples and you’re falling forward, head on Yunho’s shoulder as your limbs lock, pressure blowing, euphoria consuming every inch of your being. You hear Yunho mumble something haphazardly to Mingi before he’s pushing you backward, holding onto your hipbones as he drills into you, chasing his own high. It’s more than overwhelming, your orgasm never ending, prolonged with each thrust of his cock inside you.
“Mouth,” Yunho bites, and Mingi’s palm clasps over your lips on command. You don’t even realize what sounds are leaving you, that your lungs are even working properly, so consumed by euphoria.
You’re seizing around him, body twitching, core clenching with each thrust of his cock until his hips stutter, emptying himself inside you with consistent, punched strokes so you feel every inch of him, every drop of him as he fills you up.
Mingi releases your mouth when Yunho finally pauses, his hand shaky, chest heaving, cock half-hard again against his thigh. The only sound in the room is your breathing, distant waves crashing ashore, the sound of the breeze blowing through the room, making the curtains dance around the balcony doors.
“I could watch you two forever,” Mingi mumbles, more to himself than to you.
Yunho pulls out slowly, keeping a hand steady cupped over your center, so if you do drip it’s not on San’s comforter. Always thinking ahead, even after sex, when one would think his brain would turn at least a little fuzzy.
You swallow down nothing but air in your dry throat, reaching for the man beside you and the other across from you, “Lay with me.”
“You need to shower,” Yunho counters, running his other hand through his hair, pushing it off his forehead. “Or pee, at least. Get this out of you so we can sleep.”
You mumble your discontent, groaning, body spent and tired but so fucking elated at what just transpired. Yunho smiles up at you, “We aren’t at home, little lady, you need to go pee.”
“Little lady?” You and Mingi ask at the same time, mocking him, brows furrowed, smiles amused. You snort, “Try a different nickname.”
“Shut up and go to the bathroom,” Yunho huffs, standing up off the bed, pulling you by your ankles to the edge. Mumbling under his breath, he’s looking at the sheets, “Always something to say.”
“You love it,” you smirk, standing on shaky, tired legs. You wobble, he slides a grounding arm around your waist, you look up at him with smiling eyes, “If I wasn’t such a brat you wouldn’t have anything to punish me for.”
“A well-behaved submissive is a well-trained one,” he’s quick to respond.
You scowl, eyes pointed as you look at him, throwing an arm over his shoulder, “I’m not your submissive.”
“What are you, then?” He asks and you steal your arm back from over his shoulder, ignoring the leakage between your thighs, just to look up at him and see him smirking, face fully amused.
“Not funny,” you grumble. “Mingi will shower with me, you can wait outside.”
“No,” he half-whines the word, still fully amused, leaning into you before he bends at his knees, scooping you from beneath your legs into his arms bridal-style. “We’re all showering together, end of story. Say a prayer that Jihyo and Jongho are asleep.”
You’re giggling at him butt-ass naked in the dark hallway, it seemed Jihyo and Jongho were asleep with how easily you snuck into the bathroom without being caught, Mingi on your heel. Your shower was innocent, soft touches and bubbly soap, exhaustion dancing in the steam, the humor had dissipated and exposed what was left over. The three of you, together again. Whole.
Back in bed, you in the middle, Mingi on your left, Yunho on your right, you didn’t even bother with clothes. The only light came from the still open balcony doors, moonlight acting as a beacon, calming in how it coated the room in a soft pale hue.
“I really did miss you,” Mingi cuts through what felt like an hour of silence, just waves and breeze. “We missed you.”
“I missed you, too,” Yunho’s response is soft, fingers playing in Mingi’s hair above you, you cocooned in the middle of the two.
For the first time, those three little words sat on your tongue, begging to be said. Instead, you ask, “You know what you said? The submissive thing?”
His hand cups your cheek, “I was just kidding, baby.”
“No,” you shake your head. “It’s not that. I was wondering… What it’d be like.”
“To be my sub?” His brows raise, tipping your head up to look at him. “Like, for real?”
You smile, “Yes, for real. I’ve wondered since Woo’s going away party, what you’re like when you’re serious about it.”
“You don’t think I’m serious with you?”
“You know you let shit slide,” you narrow your eyes. “A lot slide. I want to experience a day, in public and stuff when you’re being you. In your element.”
Yunho’s eyes slide up to Mingi, “You too, baby?”
Mingi smiles, bashful but honest, nodding. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious, too.”
“You’re both untrained–”
“You’ve taught us a lot,” you cut him off. Rearranging yourself, head pressed into Mingi’s chest so you can see Yunho easier, you urge, “We can do it. Let us try tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Yunho.”
“Fine,” his smile is soft, eyes so dreamy it’s hard to comprehend that a man like him could ever be mean. If you hadn’t experienced it, you wouldn’t believe it. You love him mean. You love him nice. You love how he looks at you. You keep the words inside.
“We’ll talk about it more in the morning.”
You didn’t say another word, other than goodnight. You could still hear the waves crashing onto the shore just outside the house, you could smell Yunho’s body wash everywhere, the moon shining down on your bedroom, for the first time in days, everything felt… Peaceful. Normal.
Your heartbeat hasn’t been this even since the day Yunho walked out of your apartment.
Feet twitching, a tickle on your leg, your nose scrunches as consciousness pulls your eyelids apart. You suck in a short breath when you feel warmth on your thigh, the heaviness of a hand, Yunho’s hand, it snaps you awake like someone poured cold water over your head.
“What are you doing?”
His other hand moves your panties to the side, his head already between your legs, which was enough to answer your sleep-induced question. Your thighs parted for him further, arms limp against the bed, you could hear the soft snores from Mingi still fast asleep beside you.
A moan passes softly through your lips as his tongue makes contact with your center, slipping between your folds, lips swirling around your clit. The fingers curling into your thigh tells you to shut up, and you listen by slotting your bottom lip between your teeth, your eyes screwed shut.
Fuck, you’ve missed his hands on you, you’ve missed his mouth, you’ve missed the way he tells you what to do without saying a fucking word. You’ve missed everything about him.
He pulls away only to pull your panties down your thighs, throwing them somewhere on the floor before both hands push into the plush of your thighs, spreading them wider than before. The mewl that leaves your lips, the way your leg bumps into Mingi’s sleeping body has his eyes cracking open, confusion and sleepiness present in the way he blinks himself awake.
“Damn,” Mingi groans, stretching out his limbs as Yunho devours you all over again. “I’ve missed this.”
Mingi leans over, pressing his lips sleepily into your neck, tongue poking out to slide up onto your jaw, your mind clouded with a whirlwind of pleasure. Too long since you’ve had two bodies on you, focused on you, pleasuring you, days had felt like months.
Yunho’s hand left your thigh to grab onto Mingi’s ankle, pulling him downward, a cue to get off of you without him saying a word. Mingi shuffled himself down the bed until Yunho grabbed his already stiff length over his briefs, Mingi pushed them over his hips and down his thighs, eager to feel Yunho’s touch like it was the first time.
Yunho’s fingers slip through your folds to gather the wetness onto his hand just to use it in gliding his hand over Mingi’s length, which had both of you squirming in pleasure, light moans blending together. He spits on your center before sitting up on his knees, slipping two fingers inside you, the other hand still pumping Mingi’s length, he used the same rhythm on both of you, where you both stared up at him with parted lips, furrowed brows, glassy eyes, you think that maybe you were dreaming, or maybe you’d gone to heaven in your sleep.
“Missed me, huh?”
You and Mingi nod erratically, your hips jerking into his touch, he wore a cocky smirk and half-lidded eyes that told you he missed you just as much. Having the two of you splay out beneath him, victim to his hands, to his hold over you entirely, he had you exactly where he wanted you.
His fingers curled into you at the same time as his wrist twisted around Mingi’s length, movements he knew drove you close to the edge, you could feel the pit in your stomach forming just from how deep his fingers hit inside you. He knew you so well, too well, he could pull you to orgasm so fast, even at god knows what time in the morning. From the rising sun outside of your balcony, you knew it was early.
“You want to be with me for real?” Raised eyebrows, temptation in his voice, a depth to his eyes that only came out when he was in the mood to have you crying beneath him, the ghost of fear nipped at your spine. You nodded.
“You– fuck,” Mingi gasped, hips bucking into Yunho’s hand. “You know we do.”
“Then you’ll learn what it’s like to be with me,” staring down at you beneath his brows, his jawline sharp from where you looked up at him, you gulped at the sight of gravity in his eyes. Fingers hitting the spongy spot inside you repeatedly, it was hard to feel the fear through the pleasure, to understand the weight of his words as he pulled you so damn close to the finish line.
“Yes,” you whispered, back arching, eyes closing, your orgasm so close you could taste it.
Mingi wasn’t far behind, his fingers curling into the bedsheets, his legs trembling, small gasps and mewls falling from his lips one after another, it was ridiculous how easily he had the two of you rendered stupid before him.
Lifting yourself onto your elbows, your voice shaky, you cry, “I-I’m close.”
“Me too, don’t stop, Yunho,” Mingi moans from beside you, sounding weary, teetering on the edge.
Yunho smiles, a flicker of something in his eye that assured you the fear in your spine was right. His fingers scissor you open like he could make you cum with his eyes closed. He doesn’t answer, doesn’t give you permission, and you push a heavy breath through your lips like it’d help pause your impending orgasm while you wait for the green light.
“I’ve been too lenient with you,” he bites the inside of his cheek. “I did some thinking, too, and I think you two forgot who I am, why you asked me to share your bed in the first place.”
Your eyes blow wide, panic surging through you, “Yunho, I’m gonna cum–”
He slips his fingers out of you at the same time as he pulls his hand away from Mingi’s cock, your thighs snap together, a curse slipping from your lips. A too verbal cry leaves Mingi’s throat, his cock spurting ropes of white cum onto his hips, his stomach, his orgasm completely ruined.
“We’ll see if you still want me by the end of today,” Yunho is smiling while ignoring Mingi’s heaving chest and teary eyes, proud of himself, happy with what he had just done to the two of you. Your eyes are dancing between Yunho and your boyfriend that has tears slipping past his waterline, his jaw dropped in shock, in anguish of what had just been done to him. You wished you could have seen his raw reaction, the moment his orgasm was denied.
“I didn’t forget everything that happened yesterday, did you?” He asks, eyebrows raised, eyes flickering between you and Mingi. “Today will be different.”
Your body was on fucking fire– fear, arousal, the orgasm that was still on the brink beneath your hipbones, you didn’t know which emotion to pay attention to first. You tried to speak, some form of rebuttal, every string of words came out jumbled, completely incoherent. Yunho grinned. Mingi whimpered.
“Clean yourselves up and come to breakfast,” Yunho climbs off the bed, running a hand through his black locks as he makes for the door. “Don’t touch each other, don’t touch yourselves. I’ll know if you do.”
You swear the beach is hotter than it was yesterday.
All thirteen of you, after having breakfast out on the deck, packed up for another beach day that was thankfully right in San’s metaphorical backyard. No one was acting out of the ordinary, it seemed safe that no one heard the three of you getting edged by Yunho’s hands just a few hours ago, or getting split open by his cock last night, but you wondered if anyone could pick up how fucking frustrated you and your boyfriend were come this morning.
You obeyed Yunho, you didn’t touch each other after he left this morning, instead you kept your distance in your bedroom while you got ready for breakfast, as Mingi took a cold shower, letting ice fill his veins as he replayed his ruined orgasm in his mind.
Yunho was careful around you at breakfast, around your friends, only meeting your eye when he felt yours on him, while you were daydreaming, fantasizing, watching how his veiny hands picked up his utensils, how his pretty pink lips wrapped around the food he ate, how his body bent when he stood up from the kitchen table, the low rumble in his tired voice as he spoke to Hongjoong…
“This one.”
After escaping a calm breakfast, you were upstairs, getting ready for the impending beach day. Yunho had picked out a pair of swim shorts for Mingi, ones with a longer inseam, and had ruffled through all the bikinis you brought with you, choosing one less skimpy, but still as revealing as a bikini would be.
He handed you a black triangle bikini with small, white polka dots printed on the nylon, the bottoms were string-tied, the back ruched at the middle. Thrill danced in your blood at the thought of wearing something he chose for you, an invisible display of dominance to the people who would see you in it. He hasn’t done this yet. This was new.
“We’re playing today,” he sat back on the bed, you and Mingi standing before him, backs straight, heels touching, as per Yunho’s request. You were already buzzing with adrenaline, excitement, anticipation. “If it’s too much, you know what to say, but I’ll be expecting obedience, without question. Understood?”
You and Mingi nod furiously– he clicks his tongue.
“Yes, sir,” scrambles out of both of your mouths simultaneously. You’ve never spoken about or decided on a title formally, you’ve only said the word to Yunho playfully a few times, just for him to respond ‘be careful what you wish for.’
You were more than careful, it’s indescribable how the title makes you feel. Yunho has taken care of you both from the start, slipped into a role on his own when he started spending time with you, but today he’d officially take on the role fully, no shortcuts, no excuses.
There were times you’ve gone grocery shopping or went out to eat and he’s told you to not speak unless spoken to, to only walk on the right side of him, Mingi on his left. Something like this lit a fire in your belly, playing in front of your friends when you and Mingi knew Yunho didn’t want them to know anything about you three, you’d have to be discreet, yet still obey him completely, it made you nervous. Excited to comply, to appease him. Still excited, but nervous about what happens if you don't.
This was Yunho, unshielded, unapologetically himself, this was Yunho showing you who he is, what he wants. Your request had turned into a test, one you deeply wanted to pass; because in your mind, passing felt like the last obstacle. That if you passed, he’d have no reason to deny you any longer, no further reason to say no.
Because he didn’t answer you last night with a yes, in your mind, it was still a no.
Excitement flared in your eyes when he nodded, pleased, “Good.”
When he laid out the rules for today, they seemed simple.
You’re to sit with good posture on his left, Mingi on his right. Easy.
There shouldn’t ever be sand on his towel, if there is, you or Mingi clean it off when you see it. The thought of the two of you doting on him makes your heart skip a beat.
You’re both to make sure he is never without a drink, you get him another when he’s finished the one he has. He’s testing your ability to pay attention, to focus on him only. He should be at the forefront of your mind all day— as if he already doesn’t live there.
If you need anything, if you want anything, you ask permission first. Submission, structure.
No complaining about the sand, the heat, if you or Mingi are in distress, you tell him properly, without whining. He wants you polite, but neither you nor Mingi were one to complain about anything, anyhow.
You both are to stay within arm’s reach of him all day. You want to be by his side, anyways, but being expected to… you would pass his test with flying colors.
You didn’t ask what happens if you didn’t follow them, maybe you should’ve. It feels full circle from Wooyoung’s going away party all that time ago, when you were curious about the date he brought, why she acted the way she did. How a part of you craved it, when you didn’t even know what it was.
The sun scorched the sand, inescapable, a dry heat that was only eased by the salty breeze that snuck past your bodies every now and then, so sporadically you could barely call it relief. You had created a small village on the beach, multicolored towels laid out in a line, beach chairs, umbrellas, coolers with liquor, bags full of snacks, a large speaker that played nostalgic music over the sound of waves crashing on the shore. Looking at the scene made you laugh, you could remember coming to the beach with the same damn people with nothing but a towel and a handle of vodka.
A lifetime ago.
You sat with your knees bent in a pretzel, back straight, palms in your lap. A drink was buried in the sand next to you, something sour, Tzuyu mixed it, she claimed one was enough to keep you buzzed for a while. That was fine with you, sunglasses on your face, watching the waves fold onto the wet sand at the shoreline, head tilted, humming to a song you knew all too well while it danced with the breeze.
Yunho bent down beside you on the empty, clean baby blue towel, the corners still stiff and bent from how it was folded in San’s linen closet, the print on it still bright, likely new. Your chin perked up with his presence, sunglasses perched on his nose, black hair already damp with sweat and mussed on his forehead, sun-kissed and angelic. Your mouth watered before he uttered a word.
“You have sunscreen on?” Short, curt, filled with expectation. It wasn’t just the simple question forcing a rush of adrenaline to sweep through you, heart rate picking up, fingertips twitching against your skin, it was his tone; strong, composed, yet somehow condescending, as if you couldn’t remember to put your own sunscreen on.
You nodded, the need to appease him curling low in your gut, the desire to make him pleased. His tongue clicked, words. You sputtered, “Yes, I put some on before we left the house.”
“That was an hour and a half ago,” he sighed, running long, milky fingers through the damp black locks on his head. “I’ll get some.”
He used his palms braced on his thighs to stand again and your neck twisted to Mingi on the far towel, raising your brows.
Mingi gave you a small shrug, Here we go.
You glanced around the group, taking in everyone’s whereabouts. San and Jongin laid out on beach chairs beneath the sun, carved abdomens dipped in honey, shiny and slicked by sunscreen and sweat. Hongjoong and Seonghwa were down by the shore, mid-conversation, hats blanketing their hair, ankle-deep in the water. Tzuyu, Jihyo and Sana laid in a line to your left, gossiping, drinking, bodies a contrast to the towels beneath them.
Wooyoung had dragged Jongho and Yeosang into the sand off to your right, convincing the two men to bury him. You think Wooyoung started drinking when his eyes opened this morning.
You felt Yunho’s presence at your back like a shadow, a promise of unfinished business. He leaned in tight, next to your ear, “This drink is the only one you’ll have today.”
Your breath hitched in your throat, but you nodded. You didn’t ask permission before drinking it. His silence, his lack of movement, snapped you back into place, back straightening. “Yes.”
“Yes what?”
Fuck. You could genuinely moan at his tone, the way he’s biting his words, silvery in what he expects of you, the power he holds in two small words. Maybe he wants you all fuzzy and moldable, like jelly, testing your ability to control yourself and keep your focus on him.
“Yes, sir,” it’s a mere mumble under your breath, head tucked down, just low enough for him to hear. You can feel Mingi’s eyes on you, you wonder if he heard, too, or if your cowering body is lost on him.
Yunho hums in satisfaction, “Sit on your knees, I’ll get your back.”
You don’t hesitate to tuck your knees under your body, ass pressed against your calves, the breeze on your now exposed tummy making you feel bare. Exposed in front of your friends. You can’t believe how it sends a deep pang of arousal through your entire fucking body. You hear the bottle open, lotion squirting into his hands, rubbing it together in his palms before he touches you.
It’s like lightning hit you, how your entire body jerks at his touch, how his palm pressed to your skin makes your thighs clench on command, excitement thrumming beneath your skin. You can blame it on this morning, how he left you tightly wound and needy, the rules swimming in your mind, but the truth was that any time his skin touches yours it’s electrifying, it reminds you of all the times he’s fucked you brainless, it makes you ache for more.
He rubs the lotion onto your back slowly, massaging it in, you couldn’t tell if his movements were erotic or if your brain had dropped to the gutter. Over your hips, the sides of your waist, the tops of your shoulders, the backs of your arms, each movement was controlled, slow in a way that let you feel each point of pressure, how he was studying you as he worked the lotion onto your skin. Your neck inevitably bends, head drooping, shoulders slouching, despite the lotion being cold, his hands on you were so warm. Your thighs untensed, knees breaking apart, lungs emptying themselves into the summer air, it felt so fucking good to have his hands on you.
One palm smoothes up your spine, fingers curling around the back of your neck, the other hand squeezing your hip over the waistband of your bottoms. “Up,” he bites, the singular word a nasty whisper. “Pathetic for you to lose your composure over sunscreen.”
You were grateful for your sunglasses– no one could see your eyes fluttering at his words. Your back straightens, knees kissing once more, hands folded in your lap. “Good girl,” his voice is still too low for anyone else to hear, if anyone was paying attention. It probably seemed like Yunho was just being friendly, helpful, putting sunscreen on your hard to reach places.
It didn’t look like that at all to Jongho and Yeosang, sunglasses shading their eyes as they scooped sand onto Wooyoung’s body, hands going motionless with each curve of Yunho’s fingers on your skin.
“Are you seeing this too?” Jongho asked the older man, eyebrows furrowed, his voice laced with confusion.
Yeosang nods, “And Mingi’s just watching. I’d lose my shit if you touched Tzuyu like that.”
“I’d fucking kill you if you looked at Jihyo like that,” Jongho agrees. Their eyes linger, watching how Yunho leans in close to your ear, how your back straightens, body locking all over again.
Wooyoung’s head peeks up from the sand, “What am I missing?”
“Do you think she’s cheating on Mingi?” Yeosang asks, sitting back on his heels.
“What?” Wooyoung sits up straight, the layer of wet sand on top of him cracking and falling in chunks onto his lap. The two other men groaned, knowing they were going to have to put it back on him in a moment's time.
Jongho shakes his head, “Mingi’s watching, no way she’d cheat, and no way Yunho would do that to him. Plus, he's never been territorial.”
Wooyoung’s neck stretches forward like he was squinting to see beneath his sunglasses. “Mingi doesn’t care if you flirt, I think giving her a back massage in front of the entire group is different.” His head tilts to the side. “But yeah, he really is just watching. Huh.”
“Interesting,” Yeosang’s lips scrunch, but he brings his head of red hair back to Wooyoung. “Lay down and let us restart, dumbass.”
After getting a slew of pictures of Wooyoung’s bronzed body buried beneath the sand, a mermaid tail packed over his legs, fake abs drawn onto his abdomen, the still-giggling men came back over to the group, covered in sand head to toe.
Wooyoung ran a hand through his hair, shooting back a mouthful from his can, “Anyone wanna go swimming?”
Jongho and Yeosang were behind him, sweaty and beautiful, sand on their exposed bodies like a second layer of skin. You blinked at them, silent, because you didn’t wanna swim, part of you was scared that if you stood, someone would notice the patch of wetness on your bikini bottoms, despite them being black. Your fear held no bounds, no logic, but it was enough for you not to move a muscle.
Mingi leaned into Yunho, whispering something in his ear.
“Can I go?” Too low for your ears to catch, Mingi gave Yunho puppy eyes from below his shades, his voice sweet as candy.
Yunho gave him a short nod, forgoing a rule for Mingi’s appropriate execution of another, your boyfriend hopped up, a smile on his face, following behind his friends down to the shore. His dimpled lower back above the green shorts, how they scrunched around his thighs, the muscles in his shoulders too defined as he jogged away, fuck. You felt like an animal. A perverted, sex-crazed freak with the way your bottom lip caught between your teeth at the sight of him, how your toes dug into the towel beneath you.
You laid on your back instead, trying to rid your mind of the thoughts, of the expectations over your head. Taking a deep breath to ground yourself, to stop being so fucking horny on the blazing beach with all your friends around you.
Yunho’s empty can pressed against your arm.
You turned your head to see his jaw in a steady line, his brows raised. Shit. You stood up, walking over to the cooler in three steps, grabbing him another drink. You opened it for him, he thanked you as you handed it to him, you smiled as you took the empty one.
Even doing something this small, this insignificant, had goosebumps raising on your body. Doing it for him.
Yunho was facing you when you got back to your towel, laying back again, hands laying at your sides. His voice was quiet, soft in a way that meant he was just checking in, “How are you feeling?”
“Good,” you answer in a smooth breath.
“Give me something better than that,” he frowns, voice lowering in volume, “I don’t want to ask you to throw a color all day, if I ask you how you’re feeling, give me words. Tell me what you’re feeling.”
You sit up on your elbows, sunglasses sliding down to the bridge of your nose. The first word that comes to mind, “Stimulated.” You smile, head tilting, “Hot, a little frustrated. Mostly eager.”
He smiles, “That’s good, right where I want you.” He leans back on his own elbows, his can buried in the sand beside him, between you. “Sometimes I think you were meant for this, y’know. You take structure well, you perform easily with it.”
“That’s because I enjoy it,” you respond, words coming easily, the alcohol making your lips loose. “More than I’m supposed to, I think. I like it the other way around too, sometimes.”
He quiets, watching Mingi out on the water. “You both switch. I wonder what I’ll do with you both sometimes.”
Your lip curls in gratitude as you lean your head towards him. “You’ve changed since spending time with us too, you know. Maybe you don’t need to do anything, maybe the three of us are fine how we are.”
He turns his head tight, but doesn’t say anything. You stare through your shades, holding your ground, hoping he feels what you said, and doesn’t cower in fear because what you have is real. He jerks his head to the towel next to him, voice unyielding once again, “Over here.”
You push yourself up without a word, cleaning off your towel before you grab your drink and move to Mingi’s towel, laying back down, all without question or hesitation. Yunho smiles, pride etched into the curve of his lips, “Good.”
The praise sets you ablaze all over again.
When Mingi returns, water dripping down his body, dark hair pushed back by his fingers, Yunho already had a towel in hand. Up by the umbrella, you watched with your head tilted back as Yunho ordered him over by just a nod of his head.
“Water feels so good,” he beamed, sandy feet walking between your towels, shedding droplets of water from his swim shorts as he walked past. He didn’t even notice you’d switched spots, or if he did, he didn’t say anything.
He reached a hand out to grab the towel from Yunho’s grip, but the older man shook his head, “I got it.”
Mingi stood dumbfounded for a moment, but turned around to face the three boys’ gaze who walked up from the water, also dripping saltwater, coated in sunshine. You were sure Mingi’s skin was burning as Yunho dried him off, slowly wiping the towel across his wet skin, on his hair. You bit your cheek. For someone who didn’t want anyone to know, he wasn’t exactly being discreet, but you supposed no one noticed Yunho at the going away party, either.
“They’re so weird,” Sana mumbled under her breath, on her stomach, elbows holding the weight of her upper body. She dipped her sunglasses down to the bridge of her nose, watching Mingi and Yunho across the sand.
Jihyo and Tzuyu turned over on their towels, looking at Sana to see where her eyes were locked, then focusing in on the scene before them.
Tzuyu smiled, “Yunho’s so sweet, it must be nice for them to be so close.”
Jihyo squinted. The way Yunho’s hands dragged up Mingi’s body, his fingers curled over Mingi’s shoulder, how he leaned in to say something in his ear. She had a feeling since that morning, catching Yunho in your apartment, but brushed it off because you wouldn’t lie about something like that. Especially not to her. She would never judge you for having a threesome.
But Mingi’s head dipped down, eyes on his own crotch, mumbling a few words in response, and Jihyo’s lip curled. There’s no fucking way. She turned her head, “I caught Yunho at their apartment, you know.”
Sana and Tzuyu’s heads snapped to Jihyo, eyebrows raised, silently saying continue. Jihyo sighed, “Yunho was shirtless, towel on his waist, he had just gotten out of the shower. In their living room. Mingi had on boxers, she looked just-fucked. They said he was only there to shower because he had no water.”
“Doesn’t he live right around the corner from Joong and Hwa?” Sana asked. “If he didn’t have any water, why didn’t he just go there for a quick shower instead of traveling across the damn country?”
“They’re close,” Tzuyu leaned in, forever devil's advocate. “Would you go to Hongjoong and Seonghwa’s for a shower if Ji was home?”
“First of all, girls are different,” Sana shook her head. “Also, yes. They have a waterfall shower, and those jets in the walls for your body, plus Seonghwa uses that really good body wash from—”
“Exactly!” Jihyo cuts in. “Literally exactly my point. There’s something going on there, right? I’m not crazy?”
“Definitely not crazy,” Sana shook her head again. “Remember how Yunho snapped at me last night, too? When has he ever done something like that?”
“Maybe he was tired,” Tzuyu’s voice was small, like she didn’t believe the words that were coming out of her own mouth. “I don’t know girls… They've been together forever. Do you really think Yunho would be involved with them… intimately?”
Jihyo shakes her head, lips scrunched, disappointed that you’d keep something so important from her. She even insinuated it, and you said no. “Who knows what goes on with them anymore. It’s not like we get any details.”
Yunho is more than pleased when Mingi cleans off the left side towel for Yunho, then the center one for himself, after Yunho nodded his head in silent direction, instruction in his body language only.
You were buzzing. You were both following instruction cleanly, discreetly, you were passing with flying fucking colors, you wondered if your ability to obey made him any more inclined to be your boyfriend. Your boyfriend’s boyfriend. You wish you could be inside his brain so desperately.
Yunho stood, brushing the sand off his multicolored, patterned shorts, throwing his sunglasses back on the towel. You sat up involuntarily, knowing if he moved, you moved with him.
He didn’t look back as he started for the shore. You stood, Mingi following, within arm’s reach as you flanked him down the beach, to the water. None of you knew you had eyes on you the entire time. Or that Wooyoung approached San the moment you walked away.
You minded your surroundings as you breached the shore, no sign of Hongjoong or Seonghwa, they must be on a walk, or back at the house. You’ve been so laser focused on Yunho and Mingi you almost forgot everyone else was there.
“Min said the water’s nice,” Yunho looked to you, then over to Mingi on his other side, mischief dancing in his eyes. “Wanna swim?”
You nodded, even if you didn’t have a choice. You wondered where the line stood with things like this, if you didn’t want to swim, if the urge to obey wasn’t so heavy. Would you be punished? For something measly like swimming?
Ice wraps around your ankles, your calves, your body shaking, hissing the deeper you went into the sea. Mingi and Yunho dove in, completely unaffected, fully submerged by the time you got up to your hips. “Fuck, it’s cold, fuck,” you had your arms tucked tight to your chest, slowly wading deeper into the water while they swam a few feet out, laying under the sun for hours would have made the warmest water freezing.
“How the hell are you guys so deep?” You yell across the waves that crashed against your abdomen, water reaching your belly button. “It’s fucking cold.”
“Don’t be a baby,” Mingi teased, grinning, hair melted around his face, flat against the curves of his cheekbones.
“And watch your mouth,” Yunho added, also teasing, smiling, on his back as he floated in the water. You scoffed, then faced the water before you, you’d have to rip the bandaid off if you were ever gonna be comfortable in the water.
“Just go underwater, baby,” Mingi called again. “You can do it. I believe in you.”
You scowled, eyes pointed, jaw locked. “It’s too fucking cold.”
Yunho’s smile widens, listening to your complaints, drinking them all in. You hissed again, dipping your fingers into the sea, up to your forearms, legs pushing against the moving water to get deeper. Up to your waist, below the tie of your bikini top, you finally said fuck it and sank beneath the surface.
Holding your nose, you gasped when you came back out to the salty air colder, ice consuming you head to toe. The two men just feet away cheered.
“Come here, baby, swim over,” Mingi called out, ushering you over with one hand. Breathless from the cold, you wiped the saltwater out of your eyes, blinking through the sting as you swam closer to them. Clinging onto your boyfriend’s front for life, he tucked one arm under your ass as you moved his hair out of his face. He smiled proudly, eyes bronzy beneath the sun, “It’s nice, right?”
You still shivered in his hold, but smiled playfully, he’s so handsome it hurts. “Fuck, fuck you.”
“Curse again,” Yunho taunts from a foot away, swimming closer, affection in his voice. His eyes go over your head, scanning the beach behind you, before they land back on you, just as icy as the water. “See what happens.”
“I’m sorry,” you whine, “it’s cold.”
“I’m in the water with you, quit whining,” he muses, coming closer. “I’ll give you something to whine about. Is that what you want?”
Arousal licks up your spine, you twitch in Mingi’s hold, but you shake your head. Yunho’s head tilts, “You sure, baby? You’ve been fidgeting all day, bet you’re feeling empty by now, aren’t you?”
You’ve been doing so good. Keeping up with his rules, being obedient, focused, you didn’t think your arousal was noticeable at all. You shake your head again even if Mingi could feel your thighs clench, “No. No, I’m fine.”
Yunho’s hands tug on your hips below the water, turning you until your back is pressed against Mingi’s chest, slotting himself between your floating legs. Mingi keeps his hands on your waist as your breath goes shaky, eyes widening, “Y-Yunho they can see—”
“Mingi is blocking us, they can’t see this far out,” Yunho cuts you off. “This body is mine. You don’t get to question me, you don’t get to worry. That’s my job.”
Even in the water, being held up by your boyfriend, he still feels so fucking big in front of you. You swallow, looking up at him through lashes coated in saltwater, voice as small as you felt, “O-okay.”
“You take what I give you, when I choose to give it,” he tilts his head, hands sliding down your thighs, thumbs curling into your plush skin, feeling so soft beneath the water. “Understood?”
“Yes, sir,” you nod, and he grins. Leaning in, he presses a soft kiss to your lips, hands sliding up your hips, up to your waist, over Mingi’s hands. He breaks away just to press a kiss to Mingi’s lips, too.
Your heart is racing in your chest. Intimidation, adrenaline, the press of cold surrounding you, concern about someone seeing you.
He leans back, keeping himself close. “Tell me what you’re feeling.”
“Horny,” you blurt and he laughs. You shake your head, smile on your face, “Overwhelmed.”
His eyes look up to Mingi behind you, who responds, “Also horny. Stretched thin.”
“Color?”
“Green,” you and Mingi respond simultaneously without missing a beat.
“Don’t be scared,” Yunho shakes his head, grabbing your wrists lightly, sliding them onto his abdomen. “Do you trust me?”
You nod, “Yes, sir.”
His eyes jump to Mingi who didn’t realize Yunho was talking to him too, in a rush he responds, “Yes, sir.”
“Then make me cum.”
Mingi keeps a knee beneath you as his hands race to Yunho’s waistband, reaching in to feel Yunho’s cock that wasn’t even hard. Mingi looks up at Yunho who smiles, “The water’s real cold.”
At the shoreline, Hongjoong and Seonghwa had almost returned from their walk, fingers interlocked, legs moving at the same pace, mirroring each other’s movements. A mile down the beach, a mile back, the sun was warm, the water cooled them down, they loved everything about the beach. They’d get married on the beach, one day, soon.
Standing in the shallow water, arms stretched by how Seonghwa kicks about the waves and sand, Hongjoong stops him. “Baby, Hwa.” Seonghwa looks up, his attention grabbed, Hongjoong’s chin dips in the direction of the sea, a little ways out from where they stood, “Is that Yunho out there with them?”
Seonghwa puts a hand atop his eyes, shielding his vision, squinting beneath his glasses. “I think so. Maybe they stopped fighting.”
A theory the two had going from the time you’ve spent at San’s beach house so far, one they discussed before going to bed last night, a silly question from Hongjoong’s mouth that Seonghwa couldn’t believe he caught on to, too. From your reactions when choosing rooms to the bonfire yesterday to breakfast this morning, Hongjoong and Seonghwa have been keeping an eye on you three, reading your body language, your interactions.
“Oh shit,” Hongjoong’s jaw dropped when Yunho leaned in to kiss you. “Oh shit,” he smacked Seonghwa’s arm when Yunho kissed Mingi, too.
“What? What did you see?” Seonghwa is leaning in, bending forward, fidgeting where he stood, angling his head around to see.
“They kissed, Hwa,” Hongjoong is whispering, his voice coated in sheer disbelief, “they fucking kissed!”
“Who kissed?” Seonghwa raises himself on his tippy toes as if he wasn’t already taller than his boyfriend who could see clearly, “Joong! Who kissed?”
“Yunho kissed both of them,” Hongjoong’s hand moved to Seonghwa’s forearm, “Holy shit.”
“Holy shit,” Seonghwa whispers, a small mumble, his eyes widening beneath his sunglasses. “No- no, what are they doing now?”
Hongjoong breaks out in a wide grin, before a disbelieving laugh punches through his lips. “You’ve gotta be kidding me. In public? In ocean water? People pee in there. Fish pee in there.”
“I feel like we’re intruding,” Seonghwa shakes his head, turning away. “We’re definitely not supposed to see this. We shouldn’t watch. This is an invasion of privacy.”
“They’re hooking up on the beach! They’re lucky there’s no one else out here.”
“This section is private,” Seonghwa turns away fully. “San owns it, or something like that, I don’t know how it works. Plus, we can’t see what’s happening under the water, they could be—”
“You mean to tell me they aren’t jerking him off right now?” Hongjoong’s orange brows bend over the frame of his sunglasses, his smile completely amused.
Seonghwa cringes, but turns around again to meet Hongjoong’s grinning cheeks. He looks out in the water, studying, frowning, “I don’t know if she’s doing anything. It might just be Mingi and Yunho.”
“Okay, but still,” Hongjoong smacks his teeth. “They’re seconds away from fucking in the ocean. Am I wrong?”
Seonghwa’s lips flatten, “Don’t say anything. They didn’t seem okay yesterday and today they’re inseparable, so clearly they’re figuring something out, and keeping it private.”
Hongjoong pouts, “Boo.”
Seonghwa smiles, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his boyfriend’s lips, “Do the right thing, my love.”
“You’re right,” Hongjoong sighs, looking out in the water again. "That's so juicy, though. In the middle of the ocean for anyone to see is crazy.”
You feel dizzy on your walk back up. Frustration curls low in your gut, a pestering weed left alone for too long, growing at a rapid pace through your veins, into your limbs, your chest. You needed to get off. Your composure was running scarily thin.
“Can I go to the bathroom when we get back up?” You ask Yunho, fingers laced with Mingi’s, both walking behind him, you on his left side, Mingi on his right.
“Are you gonna touch yourself?” He looks over his shoulder, brows raised.
You shake your head, “No, sir. Just need to pee.”
He nods, small, but permission-granting.
You didn’t say anything to anyone as you walked past the group, up to the house, to the outhouse tucked into the side of the property. It was more like a shack, no roof, thin bamboo walls to separate the toilet from the shower, nothing was enclosed except for the main door which was latched shut.
You eased a breath as you put the black steel hook through the matching loop, running your hands through your hair, eyes squeezing shut while the throbbing between your thighs becomes too much to bear in the silence of the bathroom.
Just for cursing.
Just for complaining about the water being cold.
He’s mean. He’s so fucking mean. You asked for this, he reminded you three times, but the words that left his mouth, so degrading, so teasing, all while being passed between them like a fucking doll. All while neither of them touched you. That was almost worse than having your orgasm ripped from you this morning, watching, listening to them pleasure each other, while being on the sidelines but also right fucking between them, you don’t know if you can do it.
You don’t know if you can take him like this. Mean, arrogant, purposely denying you pleasure because you haven’t earned it yet. You’ve been good all day. You deserve it.
You sit on the toilet with furrowed brows, knees kissing, toes touching the wood beneath you. Your clit cries for attention, throbbing, buzzing, there’s a streak of wetness in your bikini bottoms that was too fucking slick to be washed away by the ocean. Your body feels tight, wound-up, aching for attention.
You could probably get away with it if you touched yourself. He’s not in the bathroom with you, he’s down at the shore with Mingi, with your friends, he’d never know. Your thighs clench at the thought, it wouldn’t even take long. You could probably get off in thirty seconds. Your jaw clenches, fingers curling to fists on top of your thighs. Don’t do it, your subconscious screamed at you. He’ll know.
You swallowed, taking a deep, grounding breath. Your need to obey, to please him, outweighed the ache. At least that’s what you told yourself while you wiped. You opened the latch after washing your hands to be met with Yunho standing outside the door. You jumped, a gasp leaving your lips, “Shit, you scared me.”
“Give me your hand.”
You stared at him dumbfounded before the instinct kicked in. He pulled your fingers to his nose as soon as you lifted your palm, sniffing deeply. Just his fucking touch made your thighs clench.
“You didn’t touch yourself,” he says it like he’s surprised.
Biting your lip, you shake your head. “No, sir.”
He leans in, pressing a kiss to your forehead, moving to push past you and you want to scream. He’s even denying you a kiss to your fucking lips?!
“I can’t do it anymore,” you whisper.
He leans back, brows furrowed. “Can’t do what?”
“I need you to touch me,” your voice cracks on touch. “I need you to kiss me, I need you to fix whatever is happening to me right now. I’m gonna freak the fuck out.”
His eyes thin, jaw settling and god you want to sit on his face. “You don’t need anything.”
“Yunho,” you fall forward, forehead pressing against his still-wet chest, hands landing on his hips, the soft skin just above his swim shorts. “I need you. I can’t take it anymore.”
His neck cranes side to side, a heavy sigh pushing through his lips, his hand landing on top of your hair, fingers massaging at your scalp. “I’m teaching you submission,” he says into your hair, his voice steady. “It’s what you asked for. This is what it would be like. You can say red if you want to stop.”
Red feels like giving up, failing the test. You’re frustrated, but not enough to say the three lettered word that would end it all. You’re wound tight, clit still throbbing for attention, but the need to impress him aches worse.
You stare at him blankly, saying nothing. His lips curve, standing back a step. “You have your answer then.”
“Wait,” you interject, pleading with your hands on his chest. “Why did Mingi get to cum, then? How is he any more well-behaved than I am?”
“You didn’t follow the rules,” he shrugs, answering plainly. “I don’t have to give you a reason, if I don’t want you to cum, then you don’t cum. Your body is mine to do as I see fit.”
“I can’t,” you whine, hands going into your roots, frustrated. You don’t even know what was going to follow the two words, what’s left to say after that.
“Stop whining,” he bites. “It’s ugly, and you’re not ugly.”
Your bottom lip quivers, leaning into him, hiding your frustrated face. “I’ve been good.”
“And that’s ending now, I guess.” “Yunho.”
“Are you acting like this because you want to get punished?” Two hands on your cheeks, he pulls you away from his chest, forcing you to look up at him. “Purposely whining to piss me off, even when I gave you clear, concise instructions for the day?”
You shake your head, ears tipping with heat. You can feel the heat everywhere. Shame, arousal, they blend together with the need to appease him, to impress him, you’re fighting against your own instincts.
“Then listen,” he snaps. “That’s the last time I’m going to say it.”
Jongin sees you as he leaves the house. He grabbed his keys from the rack in the kitchen after the group decided to go out for an early dinner, a place that served bar-food just down the street. You, standing with your head in Yunho’s chest, until he grabs you by your cheeks and tilts your head backward, talking to you… sternly? He stays pocketed behind the tall pampas grass, watching through leaves, his heart picking up in his chest. Is he catching something he isn’t supposed to?
Somehow, he moves far enough to where neither of you see him, and makes his way back down to the beach. He has to tell San, he has to tell Mingi– should he even get involved? Considering what Wooyoung told him and San earlier, there’s a chance Mingi is in on it, too.
“Got our keys,” he smiled briefly at San. “We should wait until they get back.”
San lifts a brow, “Did you see them? Any treachery?”
Jongin shakes his head quickly, not exactly sure why his gut tells him to lie. “I saw him inside, she was outside. No treachery to be seen.”
San’s lift lips in distaste. “Boring.”
Jongin feels bad lying to his boyfriend of three years, the man who changed everything about himself for Jongin, the yin to his yang. But this felt out of his control, a little too heavy for the friend group to be throwing around so easily, it's more than gossip. You, Mingi, you’ve been together for so long… longer than he’s known San. From what he’s learned, you’ve been together longer than any of the couples here.
Except for Hongjoong and Seonghwa. Maybe. He’d have to ask San for clarification on that one.
It wasn’t long until you and Yunho were bouncing back down the beach, wide grins on your faces and damn, his conscience feels heavy after lying. You bend down to press a kiss on Mingi’s lips and the way he grins with stars in his eyes tells Jongin enough. He’d keep his mouth closed for now. But if you and Yunho were any more obvious, if you take another risk— maybe someone else wouldn’t be as nice.
There’s bamboo everywhere. Sand under your feet, surf boards lining the baby blue, wooden walls, the roof coated in thatch, the tiki bar–cafe-restaraunt whatever the fuck was the pinnacle of everything Haos claims to be. An escape, another world, somewhere the wealthy pride themselves in vacationing, it reminded you to breathe. To enjoy everything around you, your friends’ laughter, how the sun just beginning to sink was now far less brutal, the way Mingi and Yunho both had a claiming hand on either one of your thighs under the long, wooden picnic table.
“Don’t speak unless spoken to,” with one hand on either of your shoulders, Yunho walked in the center of you and Mingi in the parking lot, one step behind you after you climbed out of Jongin’s Jeep.
You were still playing. Stomach still churning, body still wound tight, you wished you could force yourself to believe that you wouldn’t explode if someone didn’t touch you soon. Still embarrassed over your outburst earlier, not being able to handle what you asked of him, most of you was glad he didn’t give in– even if arousal kept your body temperature heated to a low-grade fever.
Mingi, free as a bird, was giggling to himself at something Wooyoung said across from you, his face sunkissed, his forehead, the tip of his nose, like the sun shone down on Mingi alone. Maybe it did, your irresistible boyfriend with a heart of gold, you wouldn’t be surprised if the sun woke up every morning hoping just to see him. The sound was music to your ears, you leaned your head on his shoulder, hands holding onto the small, laminated menu.
You flexed your thighs, I missed you guys.
The answering squeezes to your skin told you they missed you just as much.
“Today went by too fast,” San shook his head of messy black hair to the left of Mingi, it was a rare sight to see him unkempt. San was always dressed to the nines, hair gelled back, face chiseled, the face of masculinity. Seeing him with pink cheeks and an affectionate grin made your heart swarm with affection, you loved it most when the group left business behind and lived in the moment instead. “I need to have you guys here more often.”
“Invite us then,” Wooyoung teased back, still shirtless, sitting on the end of the table across from Yunho. Skin bronzed and glowing, he reminded you of some kind of Greek God, like him and summer had a contract. “We’ll come when you call.”
Jongho leaned forward, his flower-patterned shirt unbuttoned and dragging along the picnic table, his dark hair messily sprawled across his forehead, sunglasses still sitting over his eyes. “Says the one who lives three states away.”
Wooyoung laughs, leaning forward, looking to his right to see Jongho almost at the other end of the table, “I’m here, aren’t I?”
“At the risk of being fired, I’m sure,” Hongjoong smirks, the only person to his right Seonghwa, who held the end of the table. The pair still had their matching hats on, sunglasses resting above the brim, the only two whose faces were unaffected by the sun’s rays. Maybe you should all invest in hats, the sun was inescapable in Haos.
Yunho leans in, eyes dancing between each speaker, “Are you gonna get fired?”
Wooyoung shakes his head with his face scrunched like his company wouldn’t dream of firing him. Sana’s dark eyebrows raised, glossed lips falling in a line like he wasn’t telling the whole truth, the sight made a snort fall from your nose. When Wooyoung noticed, he nudged her side, scoffing, “You know they won’t fire me, they need me. You’re supposed to be on my side, Sana.”
You lean back with a laugh, hand covering your mouth, so stupid it was funny. You missed him so much, and if the possibility of Wooyoung getting fired was any indication, you think he missed you guys just as much.
“We should take pictures after dinner, at sunset on the beach,” Tzuyu chimes in, sitting in her crochet cover up between Yeosang and Jongin at the end of the table on your side. “No dressing up, just in our bathing suits with some drinks, candid style.”
Jihyo and Sana agree, nodding, sitting next to each other like two peas in a pod. “We should get couples shots, too,” Jihyo adds, dark hair waved by saltwater covering her bikini top, “Jongho and I haven’t taken a proper picture together in so long.”
“Woo and I need pictures for our holiday cards,” Sana agrees, nodding, already leaning into Jihyo. Wooyoung, with his sunglasses pushing his hair off his face, silently groans from beside her. You giggle at his face, stealing Sana’s attention.
Before she could open her mouth, San leaned forward, talking across you and Mingi, “Yun, we need to get you a girlfriend so you can be involved, too.”
You stop laughing immediately like San had reached over and stolen the smile from your face. You blink as Yunho’s hand jumps from your thigh, your body stiffening, trying not to let your eyes widen, to show surprise or discomfort on your face while a sharp pang of something sour hits your chest.
“We could ask a random girl from the bar to pretend,” Wooyoung snickers, eyes locked with San’s.
Jongho laughs, a high-pitched, amused sound, “We’d have to pry him away from those two first.”
Yours and Mingi’s attention jumps to Jongho, who eyes you both, mischief in his eyes. Yeosang, with his elbow on the table, props his chin on his cheek, staring down at Yunho, asks, “What happened to that girl from Woo’s going away party?”
Yunho shakes his head of chocolate locks inflated by humidity. Voice clear like he wasn’t bothered at all, he answers, “Just didn’t work out.”
Your body is on fire. So badly you wanted to tell them all to stop speaking about the past, to not bring up a future that isn’t centered around yourself and Mingi. Yunho is yours.
“Are you okay?” You pick your head up to Jihyo who was eyeing you carefully, eyes pointed, jaw set. “You look sunburnt.”
You shake your head, forcing an easy smile on your face, “I’m fine, probably am sunburnt.”
“How? Yunho put sunscreen on you, like, four times,” San wore a slimy grin, the table erupting with laughter.
“It was once,” you counter, eyes narrowed, tone biting. “And I can’t reach my back.”
“You’re quiet, Mingi,” Wooyoung interrupts, and Mingi’s eyes pick up, wide and doe-like.
“What do you want me to say?” He asks, brows furrowing, head tilting like Wooyoung said something stupid. You smile. Yunho puts his hand back on your thigh.
Like a saving grace, the waiter finally approaches your table, breaking your conversation to ask for your order. Yunho orders for you, then for Mingi, exactly what both of you would have chosen if you’d ordered for yourself. You felt eyes on you as Yunho finished, but you didn’t dare meet a single person’s stare. You didn’t want to know what their eyes would tell you.
You didn’t have to guess, not when San spoke after the waiter left your table, his voice a blanket over one end of the table to the other. “Am I crazy? Is anyone else seeing this, or is it just me?”
The three of your heads pick up in a line. The table is quiet, the only thing you can hear is the reggae music, soft from the speakers, dissipating into the summer breeze. Low, far but close, it melts into the sound of waves, offsetting how thick the tension had become at the table.
San’s face bulges out, bewildered, “No one’s gonna say anything?” He turns to you three and your heart falls into your ass. “Are you three together?” You swallow the bile in your throat. “Are you fucking?”
“No,” Yunho’s answer comes before your lips could part. The word is rigid, a wall, a finality. You look at Mingi who’s already looking at Yunho, his eyes so big, so round, you can hear your heartbeat over the music, the breeze, the waves. No.
Yunho even laughs a little. “Come on, are you serious?”
You glance at Jihyo who’s already looking at you like she knows everything. Like your skin was transparent, and she could see your heart cracking beneath your ribs all over again.
“You’ve been joined at the hip all day,” Wooyoung’s grin is feline, like he wasn’t done prying for information. “Can’t blame our minds for going there, can you?”
You and Mingi don’t smile, don’t laugh. You can’t pretend. Yunho takes a sip of his drink, “They’ve been together for years, you know we’re close. It’s weird that your mind would go there.”
Weird. It’s weird. He’s not yours at all. You feel like ice under the summer sun, melting too quickly, soon you’ll be a puddle darkening the sand beneath you if you don’t remove yourself from the situation. You refuse to let any of them see you upset. You hate that a part of you doesn’t want them to know if Yunho doesn’t want them to know.
You look at Mingi, I’m going to the bathroom.
He nods once, eyes glossy, you wish you could bring him with you. Pushing yourself up with your palms on the table, you swing a leg over the bench and don’t look back, don’t listen to a single word as you nearly run to the bathroom. Your skin is on fire, there’s no air conditioning in the small two-stall bathroom with baby blue walls, it’s suffocating.
You stand at the sink, throwing cold water on your face, two hands hooked around the white ceramic to force yourself to calm the fuck down. What was last night for? What did you talk about all of that shit for? What did you fuck for? Now you feel fucking stupid for today, for thinking you’d pass a test he was never proctoring. It all felt redundant. Pointless.
The door swings open, you don’t move. “Are you okay?”
Jihyo, smiling softly, apologetically. Your lips tighten, you refuse to let tears fall. You refuse to repeat what happened last time. You should have expected this.
“All good,” you force a smile. “I think I got too much sun today.”
“Don’t bullshit me,” she leans in the middle of the two sinks, shoulder pressed to the wall between the mirrors, one manicured hand on your forearm. “Did he lie?”
You huff amusement, it lacks any semblance of warmth. “Yeah, he lied.”
“Fucking asshole,” she crosses her arms. “What’s with him and commitment? That day I came over, I knew it, I knew what he was there for.”
All you can do is shake your head, “I don’t know, Ji.”
“How long has it been?”
You hum before answering. “A month? Five weeks maybe?”
“Damn,” she shakes her head. “The way he looks at you… I don’t understand him. I don’t understand the denial.”
You give her another weak smile. “Don’t tell the others. Please.”
“I won’t,” she scrunches her lips to one side. “You still have Mingi, though. And Mingi has you.”
“Thank god for that, right?” Your smile is only half-fake now, moving away from the sink, pressing your back against one of the stalls. “Although I think he’ll be more upset than I am.”
“He was holding it together out there,” Jihyo shifts to lean her butt against the sink, head tilting. “Why didn’t you tell me the truth from the start?”
You shrug, lips flat. “It was instinctive, we hadn’t talked about it yet. After you left that day he freaked out, we fought, we only worked that situation out last night.”
“He said you’d tell people?”
You tilt your head, showing your bottom row of teeth, “Not exactly. More so that we’re more comfortable being in a gray area now, our feelings out on the table, working towards something. We weren’t expecting anyone to call us on it.”
“They’re such assholes for airing out your business,” she pushes herself off the sink, taking two steps toward you to throw her arms over your shoulders, tucking you into a hug. “I’m sorry, you guys will figure it out.”
You let your eyes close, sucking as much comfort as you can from the hug, “I hope so. Thanks, Ji.”
She pulls away to cup your cheeks, “You know you can talk to me, right? Let me in, I can be a shoulder to cry on.”
You nod, fingers wrapping around her wrists, “I will.”
The rest of dinner was damn near silent. Yunho was in your head with apologies, none you answered, you didn’t want to talk to him or hear him out. Mingi answered once or twice, short responses, it was clear the two of you were hurt and needed time to reset your feelings again. You didn’t want to argue, or settle your feelings in the bedroom again, you’d done that already. It clearly didn’t work. Pictures on the beach were swift, yours and Mingi’s were all fake smiles and silence, watching the live photos in your camera roll made your skin crawl. You don’t think you or Mingi said five words between dinner and bedtime, until it was the three of you in your bedroom again.
Yunho actually had the audacity to pull down the comforter. You stopped him with your palm splayed flat on the right side of the mattress, voice monotonous and bored, but your eyes shot daggers. “You can sleep downstairs.”
His brows raised, “Are you serious?”
You settled deeper beneath the comforter, Mingi still throwing on clothes after his shower. You hold his eye, “It’s weird that you’d try sleeping in our bed.”
His hands fall to his sides, all emotion wiped from his face. “I just said that so they would leave us alone.”
“You could have been honest,” you answer simply. “You could have laughed it off. You could have said anything other than it being weird, Yunho.”
His face softens, “It wasn’t my intention to–”
“You don’t seem to have any intentions,” you cut him off. “You can sleep downstairs, like you were planning to last night.”
Lips bending, a slow nod, without another word he turns around, grabs a pillow and a blanket, and leaves your bedroom. Mingi, watching from the dresser, finally crawls into bed after Yunho closes the door behind him.
You open your arms, welcoming him into your chest, fingers immediately scratching into his hair, pressing a kiss to his clean scalp that still smelled like seasalt, “You okay baby?”
“Tired,” he mumbles into your chest, voice deep and heavy. "Don't wanna do it anymore. Too confusing.”
“You wanna be done?” You pause, fingers stalling in his hair. He looks up at you, his eyes big and round, sad. You frown, one hand sliding down to graze his cheek. “We can be done.”
“I don’t want to,” his voice is so small, just barely above a whisper. “But I think it’s obvious we’ll end up being his secret forever. I don’t want to be a secret, I want him to be proud.”
“Me too,” you lean in to press a soft kiss to his lips. “I’m proud you’re my boyfriend, y’know.”
He smiles, “And I’m proud you’re my girlfriend.”
“That’s all we need,” you kiss him again, parting your lips for him, sinking farther down the mattress until he can roll on top of you, elbows bracketing your head. Throwing your arms around his neck, your legs over his thighs, you break the kiss to say, “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” he smiles into the kiss, body pressing into yours, and it’s the easy reminder that you’ll always have him, no matter what, that eases weight off your chest.
It’s easy to pretend everything is okay when you lean into the reminder that Mingi will be by your side forever. It’s stuck with you since seven in the morning, when San abruptly woke up the house cracking a wooden spoon against a pot, screaming activities day over and over. He popped into your room with a wide grin, asked where Yunho was, and left your room as confused as he entered it.
Jet skiing, mini-golf, a barbecue, ending the night at Rêve, a reputable bar in town. San insisted that your last day should be filled with the best things Haos has to offer. Of course he left out the part that jet skiing was at the yacht club he was a member of, and that he owned shares at Rêve, making him part-owner; never humble until he was supposed to be, you wished he told you to be on your best behavior today.
Not that your group would ever be on their best behavior. Wooyoung was already drinking by the time you went downstairs for breakfast, he made mimosas for everyone, you had two. The first you chugged after Yunho went upstairs immediately after you entered the kitchen, the second you chugged when he came back downstairs, shirtless, swim trunks painted onto his thighs. If you were going to be forced into activities with him all day, you should make it easier for yourself.
White buildings with terracotta roofing, there were too many buildings to count, a winding paved asphalt driveway up to the front where men in suits stood under a white awning, one approaching as San put his Bronco in park parallel to the main doors. It had valet.
The yacht club was beautiful, massive, every nook and cranny of the main building screamed prestigious. All patrons you encountered were dressed up, some in sports wear for the golf course you could only assume is somewhere on the grounds, in long summer dresses or business-style suits, everyone seemed important. Everyone looked proper. Part of you felt out of place, with your group half-dressed in bathing suits and cover-ups like you were headed to the beach, but it didn’t last long when you got outside to where everything was docked.
Your mouth didn’t close once from the time you walked inside the heavy red doors all the way out to where he kept his jet skis docked, next to his boat, The Kai. Not a far walk, you realized, you assumed meant he was also a very important person here, too, the size of his boat only aided in the confirmation.
He owned four jet skis, which meant four couples could ride at a time, leaving two couples and a Yunho out. Luckily he had a cooler fully stocked on his boat, one he and Jongin brought out to the dock while the first wave of people went out on the water. On the dock were Mingi, Jihyo, Jongho, and Yunho– of course, naturally. You sipped on a seltzer, sitting between Mingi and Jihyo, your feet dangling over the side, one arm behind you holding you up.
Yunho sat on the other side of Jongho at the end and as much as you were grateful after you and Mingi threw in your white towels last night, it hurt that he wasn’t even trying. He didn’t even look at you, not once today, you think. At least when you got out on the water you and Mingi were smiling and laughing, he let you drive the jet ski, which he quickly regretted when he realized the watercraft turned you into an adrenaline junkie.
Mini-golf was ten minutes from the yacht club, half of your group in San’s Bronco, the other half in Jongin’s Jeep. A standalone establishment that had a small course on the outside, an ice cream shop on the inside, and a small kitchen for bar-type food. The alcoholic bar itself was small, connected to the kitchen-half of the indoor space, but it didn’t stop your friend group from ordering a round of shots, cocktails, and beers for all. Even better, the tab at the bar plus admission for minigolf was all paid for by San. His treat, he said, and who were you to argue after seeing The Kai?
There were too many of you for one singular game, but the consensus amongst the group was that you wanted to play together. So instead of splitting your group in half to play two separate games, you played in pairs, and once again you and Mingi were thrown into a triplet, this one you didn’t agree to so easily. One shot down and a cocktail in your palm, no one could feel the tension between the three of you, the energy should be light at mini-golf. You mentally decide you’ll be civil. Maybe you’ll even try being friends.
Mingi and Yunho both had beers in their hands, neither jumping for joy at the blue club you chose, it wasn’t the longest, and the two men you shared with were a hell of a lot taller than you. You stifled a laugh as Mingi uncomfortably hunched over the club as he lined up his feet, awkwardly swinging the club to hit the blue ball.
“This game is fucked,” he stands up straight when the ball bounces off the back wall, missing the hole completely. The first hole is the easiest.
You snort a laugh where you stand, watching his face morph into frustration, his brows knitting and lips parting like he couldn’t believe he missed. “You’ll get it next time,” you encourage, taking a sip of your cocktail.
Hongjoong goes up next, he makes it in with one swing. Tzuyu goes next, she makes it in with one swing. Sana next, she makes it in with one swing.
“This is fucking rigged,” Mingi curses, taking another sip from his beer. Yunho laughs under his breath as your arm comes up to rub his back encouragingly.
“Don’t worry,” you coo. “Yunho and I will win for you.”
“I can play golf,” Mingi argues defensively. “The club is just short. Yunho won’t be able to do it, either.”
Jongho goes next, he makes it in with one swing. Mingi’s brows raise like he’s seconds away from losing his shit. Jongin next, he makes it in with one swing. Mingi’s fuck is loud enough for the children at hole thirteen to hear.
“Don’t get us kicked out of minigolf, Min,” Wooyoung is still laughing, a hand clutching his belly. “We know you’re competitive, it’s just a kid’s game.”
“I know it’s a kid’s game,” Mingi bites, all in one breath, barely looking at the younger man as he says it. Your face is full of amusement when Wooyoung turns to you, brows raised in surprise.
“Don’t ask me,” you shake your head. “I’m not his keeper. When it comes to games, he’s on his own.”
It’s your turn again, the blue ball alone on the green. You’ve played enough minigolf in your life for this to be muscle memory– childhood games at arcades, random birthday parties from school friends over the years. But it’s been a long, long time since you were a kid, too long since you’ve come close to a minigolf course. Your first swing, just a foot away from the hole, you miss. The group laughs and you roll your eyes, waving a hand, “I’m just warming up!”
“Oh, I’m sure!” Sana’s voice is dripping with sarcasm and your lips tighten. Feeling hotter now, you line up your feet, the club with the ball, and swing.
You fucking miss.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” you huff. “Someone hand me my drink, I need to be drunker if I’m gonna suck.”
Yunho’s laughing as he hands you your cocktail and you suck down half of it before lining your feet up all over again. You hit the ball this time, but it’s fueled by your rage, it bounces off the brick siding and onto the green of hole four right next door to hole one. You straighten, hand covering your mouth, eyes widening as your ball hits someone else’s ball that was currently playing hole four.
“I’m sorry!” You call as the young kid, definitely not a day over the age of eight, throws the baby blue ball back onto the faded putting green. It’s as if it was in slow motion, how he threw the ball in a perfect arc for it to land flawlessly in the hole without as much as a singular bounce. You whip around to your friend group, eyes wide, “Does that count? Can that count? Jongin, count it.”
Your friend group sounds like a clan of hyenas, loud cackles, obnoxious laughter breaking out across twelve people because of how ridiculous that unfolded.
“Are all three of you competitive?” Seonghwa asks, genuine, voice light and kind.
You shrug as you walk off the green, “I’ve never really played sports, I don’t know.” Skipping over to Jongin who was keeping score, you brush up close to his sculpted arm, tone candy sweet, “So? Are we counting it or what?”
He makes a shh motion, one finger raised, smiling behind the purse of his lips. Your hand forms into a fist and you tuck it into your body with success, “Yes, hole in two, baby.”
Mingi and Yunho are snickering when you return to them, but it’s Yunho who mocks you, “Not competitive, my ass.”
“Hey,” you point a finger at him. “You can’t make fun of me, I’m pissed at you. I said I was gonna make up for Mingi’s shit swing.”
“Yours was even worse!” Mingi’s voice is high-pitched, still defensive. You’re all giggles when you lean into him, pressing a hand to his cheek to pull him down for a kiss. Beer and home, he tastes like half of you.
You feel Yunho’s eyes, but you don’t stop, you don’t do anything to make him think it’s for him. Even if there’s the evil part of you that hopes he wants to rip his skin off his body, that he’s so enraged he sees red, you hope he doesn’t act on it. You hope he doesn’t act on anything ever again.
At hole two, Yunho surprises you both with how efficiently he makes the ball into the hole with only one swing, yours and Mingi’s jaws falling to the concrete. Yunho exudes everything smug on his return.
Smirk on his lips, rolling his shoulders, he says, “What? Like it’s hard?”
Your laugh is verbal disbelief, Mingi immediately quips, “Do not quote Legally Blonde right now.”
Yunho’s giggle is proud, his grin wide, his shoulders doing a little shake in celebration. So fucking cute you could rip out all your hair, you dig your head into Mingi’s chest to smell him, to rid yourself of feelings towards Yunho. Your forehead meets your boyfriend’s skin with a groan, “I need another drink.”
The third hole goes by quickly, efficiently, Mingi excited he got a hole in one, deservedly so. At hole four, you’re up again after a cocktail and a half, at least you’re at the starting line this time. You stare at the blue ball sitting on the green, eyes squinted, whispering, “Do not embarrass me. Okay?”
“Are you talking to the ball?” San asks, humor laced in his tone. “I don’t think it’s gonna answer, girl.”
“I’m giving it a pep talk!” You snap your head to respond and then stare at the ball once more. You line up your feet, then the club with the ball, and swing.
Your fuck is louder than Mingi’s was when you miss. You wave apologetically to the family of four that shoots daggers at you from across the course.
“I can’t watch this,” Yeosang shakes his head as he approaches you. “You're legitimately killing me.”
Your face heats with embarrassment as he stalks up to you, determination in the crease of his brow. You pull all your hair to one side as he stands behind you, arms wrapping around you, hands dwarfing yours over the handle of the club. “Hold like this,” he explains, then kicks one foot between yours, spreading your legs farther, your knees bending. “Stand like that.”
Yunho, tensing beside Mingi, snaps his head to the side to get Mingi’s attention. “Hello?”
Mingi’s brows furrow when Yunho’s shoulder bumps him, his feet staggering. “What?”
“Look,” Yunho says, like it’s absurd Mingi just asked what. He can see the flex of Yeosang’s arms as he stretches them over your shoulders, the veins swimming along his forearms while his hands clasp over yours. It makes his jaw tick, his heartbeat quicken— you’re not Yeosang’s to touch.
“He’s showing her how to play,” Mingi says casually, taking another sip of his beer, leaning towards Yunho like he was watching a sitcom instead of his girlfriend getting felt up by another man.
Yunho’s head tilts, dumbfounded and semi-enraged that Mingi doesn’t feel a shred of the possession he does, his voice a harsh whisper, “Yeosang has had a thing for her since… since forever.”
“Have you lost your mind?” Mingi’s brows raise as he turns to his best friend, a disbelieving chuckle falling from his lips. “No he hasn’t. Tzuyu is right there.”
Yeosang kicks your feet apart and Yunho’s body jerks at the action. His foot inches forward, fingers grasping his beer a little harder like he was ready to pounce. Instead, he grits his teeth, “Have you ever watched Yeosang interact with her? Like ever? He’s basically told you to your face he thinks she’s sexy.”
“She is sexy,” Mingi shrugs, rolling his neck nonchalantly. “If I’m not pissed off then you shouldn’t be either. She’s not yours, she’s mine.”
Yunho’s neck snaps, meeting Mingi’s dead-serious stare. Stunned into silence, he shuts his mouth, drinks his beer, and lets it be. Just when Yunho thought they were getting somewhere, that maybe you wouldn’t be awkward all day, he’s surprised that Mingi’s the one who put him in his place. It’s worse when you return smiling, overflowing with excitement, asking Mingi if he saw your hole-in-one three times before throwing your arms around his neck and kissing him. He feels sick, palms sweating, you weren’t doing this to get a rise out of him, you were leaning on each other because he was the one who fucked up. Again.
The rest of mini-golf goes by in a blur. He doesn’t speak much, he doesn’t have anything to say, his mind is on a roll, trying to come up with any sort of plan to fix this. He needs to get you two alone, he needs to apologize, he needs to say something to get the two of you to stop looking at him like you don’t care about him because that in itself is so fucking terrifying he can feel his goddamn throat close another inch every time he notices.
The drive home is quiet, wind in Yunho’s ears, he can’t even hear the soft music playing through the speakers, he didn’t care to. Out of the corner of his eye he watches you sink into Mingi in San’s backseat with the sun laying over your lap like a blanket, your eyes closed beneath your sunglasses like you didn’t have a care in the world. Like nothing was bothering you at all.
He’s never let himself learn just how terrifying it could be to love someone who didn’t want him. Two people who didn’t fucking want him.
“Who’s ready to BBQ?” Wooyoung shouts from the passenger seat of Jongin’s Jeep, emphasizing the acronym, basically hanging halfway over the door while grinning wide enough to showcase each and every one of his bone-colored teeth. You’d just pulled into San’s driveway, finally back at home to barbecue, to fill your stomachs with a good, hearty meal before you were back on the streets for Haos’ nightlife.
Everyone piled out of the cars quickly, heading inside just for the men to immediately split off into the kitchen to start prepping the grill. You watch as they gather around the kitchen island, shouting orders and ideas about cooking of all things until Tzuyu bumps your hip with her own at the base of the staircase, stealing your attention.
Pulling her hair tie from her bun, she lets it fall behind her in loose waves, scratching her fingers through her roots, “I guess the man-grill thing is genetic. Or built-in, like a default setting.”
“There’s nine of them,” you whisper. “How many does it take to man a grill?”
“Nope, I’m out!” Hongjoong raises both his palms beside his head in defeat while he retreats from the kitchen. “You’re all insane, I’m showering and napping. Call me when dinner’s ready.”
“Eight,” you correct yourself, a grin growing on your cheeks, and Tzuyu laughs from beside you.
Jihyo, her bag over her shoulder, enters the living room with Sana at her side, the two approaching you and Tzuyu with grins on their faces. Sana does a little shake of her hips, grin reading excitement, “Who’s ready to fuck up the club?”
“It’s a bar, I think,” Jihyo laughs, “but it’ll be nice for us all to go out and let loose.”
“We’ve done nothing but let loose all weekend,” Tzuyu furrows her brows.
“No.” you shake your head once. “We have not.”
“I brought face masks,” Sana’s fingertips dance together mischievously. “We should pre-game getting ready while they grill and shit.”
Out on the deck, Mingi stood over the grill in front of the railing, a pair of tongs in his hand while he flipped pieces of meat and seafood on the black, steel grates. The speaker inside played music through the screen door, everyone mindlessly humming and singing along while they set the table, chatter and laughter flowing through the chilly summer breeze that ruffled his hair.
So many years these guys have been his friends, so many years Yunho has been his friend, he can’t believe it’s all gone to complete shit. This was his worst fear coming true, the lingering fear when all of this began, that he’d cross a line and lose Yunho. Yeah, they’d all still be friends, but his friendship with Yunho has always been different. Deeper. He can’t believe he’s losing it, right in front of his eyes.
He felt alive again that first night in Haos, back to normalcy, you three felt closer than before, just for it to be ruined all over again the next day. Each and every time he met Yunho’s eye today, he hated that those three words still sat in the hinge of his jaw, the back of his throat, begging to be spoken. He could tell it was the same for you, where your eyelids sat over your glazed pupils, a certain twinkle to them as you stared up at Yunho even if you tried to hide it. He knows what the words look like forming on your lips, how you tighten your smile to stop them from spilling out, he knows you like the back of his hand.
He can’t believe you both love him and you can’t have him.
“Almost done?” Mingi’s head snapped up to Yunho on his right side, his head peeking over Mingi’s shoulder, the heat of Yunho hotter than the grill. Speak of the devil.
Mingi nods, eyes sliding over his face. Big, brown eyes with clean cut brows giving them structure, cheekbones high and sculpted, lips a pretty, pale pink heart. He wishes there was no one else on the deck, he wants nothing more than to lean forward and press his lips to Yunho’s, he hates that his feelings still linger.
Yunho’s head tilts when Mingi lacks a response, amused by Mingi’s eyes locked in on his lips. “What’cha thinking about?”
“Nothing,” Mingi mumbles, bringing his eyes back to the grill.
Yunho sighs, “Mingi–”
“Don’t,” Mingi keeps his eyes locked on the burning fire beneath the grates. “I don’t want to hear it, it’s all bullshit.”
It feels like a blow to Yunho’s ribs. “None of what I want to say is bullshit, Mingi. You know me.”
“I thought I knew you,” Mingi mutters, purposely keeping his voice low. “I thought I knew how you felt about us, I thought we were getting somewhere, that even though you’re scared, you wouldn’t pretend you didn’t feel anything.”
Yunho frowns, his head dropping. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you, Min.”
“But you did,” Mingi meets his eye. “And you knew you did in the moment. But you didn’t go back on what you said, you didn’t change your answer. You let me sit there looking stupid because I–”
Mingi cuts himself off and Yunho’s brows furrow for a second, “Because you what?”
“Nothing, it doesn’t matter.”
“It matters,” Yunho urges. “Everything you say matters.”
“Not to you,” Mingi turns sideways, his jaw locked, his brows flat. “Don’t apologize, don’t say whatever pretty words you think are gonna make it better. It was embarrassing, Yunho, sitting there while everyone laughed at the idea of us being together because you said it was weird.”
Yunho’s fingers rub at his eyes, exasperated, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say it, it was word vomit, I got scared–”
“Yunho,” Mingi’s voice is so clear, so even Yunho stands a little straighter. “I know how you feel already. You’re twenty-eight years old, you’re old enough to know words have meaning. You know how we feel about you. We’re done here.”
Yunho’s throat is so tight he doesn’t think he could take a breath even if he tried. There’s no oxygen in the air, nothing to feed his lungs, Mingi’s words feel so concrete all he can do is turn around and walk away. Inside, toward the bathroom, he’s walking without vision, without a brain, he locks the door behind him and finally heaves a strained, verbal breath.
We’re done here.
You’re done with him. Mingi’s done with him. His back presses against the door, facing the ceiling, willing his tears to stay below the surface. He’s right. He’s grown enough to know that his fear is childish, that it’s time to settle down, he shouldn’t be afraid of what his friends think, what anyone thinks. He shouldn’t be afraid of commitment with you, he knows you won’t hurt him in his soul, he knows how you feel about him. He feels the same way toward you, if not deeper, he feels so fucking much toward you that it terrifies him.
He’s running out of time to get over it.
If this was a month ago he’d be seeing this situation as an out, he’d be thinking that this was for the best, but now his heart feels shriveled down to a husk in his chest. Hollow, like the best parts of him were gone, missing the people who made him feel whole, gave him purpose outside of sex. Outside of the role he gave himself.
When he goes back out onto the deck, the sun’s at its last moments of visibility over the horizon, the girls had made it back down, too. You sat next to Mingi at the corner, Jihyo and Jongho across from you, Tzuyu and Yeosang beside you. Yunho sits beside Hongjoong who’s next to Seonghwa, and the couple look at him with sad eyes.
Seonghwa leans across Hongjoong, his voice low. “What’d you do?”
Yunho sighs, lips flattening. He doesn’t question how Seonghwa read the situation. “You saw what I did. At dinner yesterday.”
Hongjoong makes a face, one that says you’re fucked. “That was a tough watch.”
“I know,” Yunho answers, tone flat. “I don’t know what to do.”
“I don’t think we’re able to give you advice, this is out of our area of expertise,” Seonghwa looks apologetic, voice soft as he leans across Hongjoong to lay his palm flat over Yunho’s hand, encouraging. “You’ll figure it out if you love them as much as they love you.”
Yunho stares at him for a second and for the first time in thirty minutes he can’t actively hear his own heartbeat. He gives Seonghwa a soft, grateful smile, pulling his hands back in his lap, thinking.
You’ll figure it out if you love them as much as they love you.
He lets his eyes graze over the meal, a feast is what it was, far too much food for thirteen people to consume and feel good after digesting, but no one seemed to care. Music flowed from inside, loud yet calming, a backtrack to conversation, banter, laughter, not anything Yunho could hear over the sound of his pounding heart.
San made a toast to the last night in Haos, a small speech of how happy he was to maintain the friendships that were vital to him. Appreciation for all of you, gratitude for years of friendship, relationships he wouldn’t trade for the world, he even choked up talking about how close he holds everyone to his heart. Not often does he get emotional, but the way the table stood, clapped, clinked their glasses and took turns squeezing him tight, maybe he’ll be more inclined.
Maybe the three of you weren’t the only ones who are having an emotional weekend.
By the time dinner was over, all thirteen of you stuffed full, the impending night out seemed more like a chore than anything. Yunho’s stretched out on the couch half-asleep until he hears Wooyoung complain to San that the girls were getting ready in his room, perking his ears enough for him to wake the hell up and trudge up two flights of steps to his room, your room, to see Mingi passed out in the bed.
A white tee, briefs on his legs, he lays on his side, both hands pressed together beneath one cheek, lips parted as he snores softly. Yunho smiles to himself, staring from the doorway, leaned up against the wooden frame, he looks so peaceful. So pretty, Yunho wanted so badly to crawl onto the bed and press a kiss to his lips, he knows better. Instead he creeps across the hardwood, gathering his things for a shower and leaves.
The hot water gives him clarity. Maybe it’d be easier to confess tonight with a little liquid confidence, it’d give him an easier flow, he could say everything he needs to say without the stupid fucking wall that’s embedded in him biting his tongue. He loves you, he loves you both so much he feels incomplete, the world feels tilted off its axis without you two by his side. One week without you was hell, one day watching you with each other was like living in purgatory, the in-between, where he can look but can’t touch, he thinks that might be worse.
Mingi’s still asleep while he starts getting ready, he only wakes up when Yunho’s buttoning up his shirt. He sits up slowly, wiping at his eyes, “What time is it?”
“After nine, I think,” Yunho responds, staring at Mingi through the mirror. His hair looks untouched, eyes half-lidded, he licks his lips three times just to get moisture in his mouth again. Yunho can’t fight his smile.
“Fuck,” Mingi’s top lip lifts. “You’re dressing up?”
Yunho grins, “I’m only in a button-up and pants.”
“Yeah, but they’re your good pants,” Mingi argues, “the ones that make your ass look good.” His eyes widen after he says it, like his own words woke him up the rest of the way, but he doesn’t correct himself.
Yunho looks over his shoulder like he’ll be able to see his own ass. “You think my ass looks good in these?”
Mingi stretches, a verbal noise of tightness leaving his chest as his arms go over his head, his shirt lifting at the hem, Yunho’s eyes snap to the exposed bit of skin like a moth to a flame. Mingi lays flat on the bed, arms straight out beside him, legs spread. “You know it does, don’t play coy.”
Yunho laughs a little as he buttons the last one, leaving the top three undone, one silver cross pendant sitting on his chest. He turns slowly, hands planted on the dresser behind him, taking a breath to build confidence since there was zero liquor swimming in his blood, “I regret what I said at dinner yesterday.”
Mingi sits up on his elbows, sleep still evident in his glossy eyes, his tone remains flat, knowing. “Do you?”
Yunho nods, lips scrunching to one side. “I don’t like how we are right now.”
Mingi sits up all the way, “I don’t like it either.”
Yunho’s voice is breathy, a little shaky as he asks, “Can I fix it?”
“Last time we were fixing things it took one day for it to get fucked up again,” Mingi lifts himself off the bed, running a hand through his hair. He stops right before Yunho, facing him, “You’re the only one who needs to figure your shit out, Yunho.”
Yunho watches as Mingi heads for the door, calling behind him. “What if I figured it out already?”
Mingi holds his stare from the door. “Then what are you waiting for?”
Stuck in time, Yunho stares, his tongue caught between his teeth, his heart in his throat. Mingi laughs a little, disappointment clear as he shakes his head. Before heading to the bathroom, he mutters, “Thought so.”
Yunho curses under his breath when he hears the bathroom door close, the shower turning on. He doesn’t wait around for Mingi’s return, he goes back downstairs, most of the guys already showered, dressed, ready to go. He opens a beer with the same tightness in his jaw, frustrated that Mingi just gave him an opportunity to speak and he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t say a word.
There’s music playing from the TV in the living room, something pop from a decade ago, he doesn’t have it in him to listen, or to the conversation happening around the kitchen island. San, Jongin, Wooyoung, Jongho, it’s all muted mumbling in his ringing ears, he feels pathetic.
It’s worse when Mingi comes downstairs and doesn’t even look at him. He joins the conversation seamlessly, the laughter grows, they’re talking louder than the music, it makes Yunho feel not only on the outside of his relationship, but on the outside of everything. Isolated because he can’t speak up, he can’t say how he feels, he’s trapped within his own mind, trapped beneath his feelings. He cracks another beer.
He doesn’t think it can get any worse until you walk down the stairs. On the couch now, he gets a front-row view of the black dress painted onto your body, tied around your neck, stiletto heels with straps that twist up your calves like vines. Mingi meets you at the base, picking you up off the bottom stair with one arm hooked around your body, lips pressed to yours, when he sets you down carefully he says something in your ear that makes your head fall back with laughter.
Emotion feels like bile rising in his throat. He’s jealous, but it’s different now; what was once frustrating was now driving, the words sit heavy on his tongue. You two look like you’re matching, dark clothes, hair styled, jewelry silver and offsetting one another, he looks down at his outfit and it’s almost like fate that he’s matching, too.
He looks back up to meet your eye across the room, what was supposed to be a glance lingers.
Yunho gives you the smallest of smiles, You look beautiful.
Your chin tilts upwards ever so slightly, I know, Mingi just told me.
Ouch. He leans into the backrest, I can’t tell you, too?
The corner of your lips tug upward. Thanks.
He watches as Mingi’s hand slithers around your waist. I need to talk to you.
You sink into Mingi’s hold, your back pressed against his chest, What if I don’t want to hear it?
Yunho’s jaw clenches. You do.
Sana shrieks from the staircase as soon as she sees Mingi’s lips pressed to the skin below your ear, “Do not fuck in that dress, I just bought it!”
You pull your attention away from him and he feels like grieving. You don’t give it to him again until you’ve had tequila poured into your mouth from the bottle, all thirteen of you in the kitchen fully dressed, pouring liquor like it’s water and calling it a pre-game. Outside, splitting two Escalades, rides San ordered for your group to take to Rêve across town, Yunho opted to sit in the back with you and Mingi, you scowled as soon as it left his lips. He smiles, because at least you care enough to frown.
San was immediately greeted upon approaching the upscale bar, stepping out of the Escalade to be met with two men wearing suits like it was regular, casual. Inside it was red everything, from leather booths to velvet barstools to the curtain that hung closed upon the stage; walls full of vintage framed photography, the architecture a brown so deep it appeared burgundy, dimly lit shaded lamps on tables, some traded for candles, the bar was drenched in an amber hue. It was definitely moody, a brand created off of atmosphere, it felt cozy as much as it felt expensive.
It was calmly crowded, plenty of people filling up the tables in the center of the room, a crowd before the stage that had waiters with trays between them. You spotted martini glasses, short glasses of whiskey poured neat, women in daring dresses and doused in jewels, men in suits who blew clouds of swirling smoke in the air from their cigars. All thirteen of you looked appropriate, expensive– but not old money expensive like some of the patrons you observed. You wondered about the history of Haos, about San, how deep his pockets really ran.
You couldn’t wonder for long, though, with how the group was directed past the stage to a steel door at the back of the building that seemed… insignificant. Like it’d bring you outside or to a storage room, not to a long, dark hallway that hummed louder and louder with each step he took.
Bass thumped beneath your shoes, the group quietly following the man in black like this was normal, no one questioned anything only because San followed with confidence, chest puffed out, shoulders back. Surprise wasn’t the word for what was behind the twin steel door at the end of the hallway, it opened to flashes of blue and purple, music so loud it made you jump where you stood.
Women on platforms half-dressed, swaying their hips to the beat of the song, bottle girls with buckets of ice and handles of liquor atop their heads parting through the crowd like it was the Red Sea, patrons in clothing that matched yours exactly. The room was filled with people in your age group dancing to the music at the center of the backdoor club, the walls filled with enclosed sections you assumed were VIP, all by velvet roped attached to silver poles.
“So? Are you guys surprised?” San asks from the head of the group, his smirk turned to a wide, excited grin, which everyone replied with a monotonous, confused yes. San laughed, leaning into Jongin, “We wanted to surprise you, you guys looked so confused at the front, like we were gonna smoke cigars and watch Cabaret.”
“I wouldn’t have minded,” Jongho shrugs, and most of the group nod their agreement, including you. You didn’t care where you ended up tonight as long as there was liquor for you to guzzle.
“This is better, no?” San raises his brows as he begins walking you toward the back wall, what you assume was your VIP section. “Music we know, people our age, it’s been a long time since we’ve all gone clubbing together.”
Tzuyu, in a red dress painted on her body, adds, “Because all the clubs at home suck.”
“Not the ones here,” San quips like he was waiting for that reply, entering the section backlit by blue lights cool enough to be white. “They love me here.”
“You own it,” Mingi snorts, “they have to love you.”
“I partially own it,” San raises a finger as he steps into the open booth, the table at the center already full of ice and champagne. “There’s a difference.”
Jongin starts pouring champagne into flutes, “Should we make another toast?”
“We don’t need to get all teary-eyed again,” Sana smiles, softly instead of the nasty smirk she usually wore with her rebuttals. This was appreciation. “We have our makeup done, Sannie made us emotional enough back at the house.”
“It’s not every day that you get to tell your friends how much you love them,” San holds the flute between his fingers, brows wiggling.
Yeosang laughs, “It could be, you just choose not to.”
You can feel the music in your blood, the dance floor calling to you, excitement in the bounce of your knee. You only spend fifteen minutes in your section, finishing a singular cocktail before Tzuyu’s pulling you out to the dance floor, after getting ready together in Sana’s room it was like all four of you had taken a breath of fresh air.
The dance floor was already swarming with sweaty bodies loosened up by liquor. Yours not quite there yet, you’re in a fit of giggles as the girls twirl you into the crowd, you stay on the outside of Jihyo and Sana who fall into rhythm, backs pressed to one another as they sway their hips, laughing as they twist around. You and Tzuyu are watching, smiling, giggling until the two pull you into their circle, forcing your hips into the same rhythm as theirs.
“I’m out of practice!” You yell over the music, and both Sana and Jihyo shake their heads, like they wouldn’t accept the excuse.
Jihyo slaps a hand on your shoulder, “You fuck, you know how to use your hips!”
Head tipping back with another laugh, you let her pull you into her, your hips so close they might as well be touching. You follow her rhythm, using a fuck-worthy roll of your hips as you do, bottom lip caught between your teeth while you focus.
“You’re thinking too much,” Sana’s behind you, hands on your hips. “You need another drink, damn.”
Your lips tighten in a line as you look up at Jihyo again, embarrassed. She laughs in response, “She means you’ll feel looser with a little liquor in you.”
Sana stops the bottle girl holding a tray of shots, her screech for help loud as she tries to balance four between her fingers, the three of you snatch them from her hands like candy. Shooting it back in one swallow, you push a breath through your lips like it’d rid the sting from your throat, your face scrunching up at the taste. Vodka– bitter, painful.
But it helps, it’s not long until your arms lay over Jihyo’s shoulders, your back pressed to Sana’s as she moves to the same rhythm as you, Tzuyu swaying her body in front of Sana. You can feel the music in your blood now, your body thumping with the bass, bones turning fluid with each shake of your hips. You’re unable to feel the warmth spreading through your skin, your senses already overwhelmed by the atmosphere, you’re too busy watching Jihyo’s half-clothed body grinding herself against you.
Eventually Tzuyu heads to the bar for more drinks, handing you another shot before a glass full of something and tequila, you don’t realize how quickly you’re sipping it while Tzuyu is bent over in front of you, her ass pressed to your crotch. You can hear your obnoxious laughter over the music when Sana lands a few smacks to her ass, Jihyo pulling out her phone to record it, the four of you erupting in a fit of drunken giggles and snorts, bodies light, brains somewhere else entirely, not once did you remember there’s an entire club of people around you.
It’s been so long. House parties, clubs, bars, your friend group used to be outside on a weekly basis, you missed it. You missed them, dancing with them, completely carefree, like you’re twenty-three again. It was nostalgic in a visceral way, like maybe you were twenty-three again, sharing platonic kisses with your friends on the dance floor, waiting for your boyfriend to come scoop you up and fuck you in the bathroom because neither of you could wait.
You don’t realize you’re drunk until Mingi joins you on the dance floor. When you see his face, structured and beautiful, strands of hair hanging over his glossy eyes, a smile on his plump lips, you feel the rush of warmth from your chest to your toes. His pants cling to his legs like they’re tailored to him, strong thighs filling out the fabric, his unbuttoned shirt is showing enough skin for you to lick down his chest. You want to, the urge sitting at the forefront of your mind, you lick your lips as he approaches.
“I was wondering where you went,” Mingi’s loud over the music, you could get drunk off the rasp to his voice alone. You throw your hands over his shoulders, swaying your hips to a rhythm he meets you at immediately, his hands on your waist.
“I’ve been here,” you tilt your head, dazed. “We were dancing, the girls are so funny.”
Mingi snorts, “You’re drunk.”
“Nooo,” you shake your head, the word exaggerated, playful. “Just tipsy. Did I tell you how handsome you look?” Mingi looks amused, brows raising, you don’t wait for his answer. “You look sofuckingsexy.” His belly laugh makes your smile grow. “I’m serious, Min. I want you, like now.”
He leans in to attach your lips, a quick peck, he fights your strength to keep him close. “Now? Like were twenty-three again? Don’t wanna wait until we get home so I can fuck you in our bed?”
A small noise slips through your lips at the thought. “Too far away, we just got here.”
“We got here over an hour ago,” his hands curl around your waist, gripping you harder. “You’ve been out here the whole time, baby.”
It feels like you’ve been dancing for ten minutes. “Whatever,” you whine, pressing your front against his. “Kiss me already.”
He obliges, smiling before he presses his lips to yours, hands sliding down to grip your hips, pulling your body flush to his. You gasp into his lips, he tastes like whiskey, bitter but sweet, addicting. Your fingers find his hair as his tongue parts your lips, tasting you, groaning into you, your hands fall from his neck to feel him.
“Baby,” he says with caution, you swallow the warning, tilting your head to kiss him harder. He squeezes your hips as your hands fall from his hair to his chest, palms splayed over his pecs down to his abdomen, tongue dancing with his.
“I just wanna kiss,” you mumble into his mouth, hands fisting the fabric of his shirt as you take his bottom lip between your teeth, biting softly. He groans, chasing your lips again, his hips pressing into you, he’s so easy it makes your core clench.
He parts your legs with one of his own, pressing into you, making you gasp a sound too lewd for where you are. Entirely bare beneath your dress, the pressure combined with the texture of his pants makes a breathy moan fall past your lips, one he drinks up with his own. Your fingers curl into his shirt tighter, hips bucking into him, one of his hands sliding up to the side of your neck.
“Can feel her on me,” his voice is deeper, almost a growl as he says the words into your mouth. “Knew you weren’t wearing panties.”
One of your heeled feet leaves the floor to grind against him at a better angle, head falling forward until your forehead lands against his, “Shit, feels good.”
He reaches behind you, fingers finding the hem of your dress, holding it taut over your ass. You moan again as your core drags over his thigh, forehead falling to his shoulder, the rest of the club melting away. He curses under his breath, “Baby, hold on, you gotta–”
You whimper into his shirt, eyes screwing shut, tequila and Mingi was a cocktail for impulsivity. Him, the smell of him in your nose, his body pressed to yours, he made you so fucking cockdrunk without even giving you an inch, without even touching you. The pleasure’s overwhelming, you needed more, pressure building steadily, you didn’t care where you were, who saw.
Yunho can’t believe what he’s seeing. Curiosity getting the better of him, he should have known not to follow Mingi out to the dance floor to find you. But he was growing antsy at the table, listening to the bullshit conversation everyone was having when all he wanted to do was kiss Mingi across the table. Sitting back against the couch with his knees spread, beer in his hand, lips wet and pink and plump, Yunho was stirring in impatience. He’s hungry, he wants to touch him, to kiss him, wants him on his knees between his legs, he wants to tell him how much he loves him with his lips wrapped around his cock. He stared with his chin in his palm, elbow pressed to his knee, his foot tapping against the floor, the liquor made him restless.
At least he waited a few seconds before following Mingi, just to find the two of you at the center of the dance floor, surrounded by bodies and eyes while you grinded your hips against his fucking thigh like you were the only people out here. Mingi’s holding your dress over your ass, your hands in his shirt, leg hooked around his body, he stared until he understood the rhythm you were moving at, watching how you twitched like you were about to fucking cum.
He was seeing red. In his mind you were both still his, and you were letting all of these random fucking people see you like this? Seeing what’s his? He was moving before he could think about it, pressing himself up against your back, hands on your waist to shield you from everyone who could be watching. His voice comes out rough, harsh, “Don’t you fucking dare.”
Your hips still like your blood was still victim to his command. Head tilting backward, you stare at him through wet lashes, lips parting, his name leaves your mouth in a soft gasp. Eyes hazy, glossed over, fuck, all his rage dissipates into the humidity of the club, just from one look at you. Disheveled, you didn’t have a frown on your face, your brows weren’t tied together, so fucking beautiful flushed with arousal he can feel it in his chest.
He looks at Mingi who’s equally as fucked out, cheeks red, eyes glossed over, he stares at Yunho like he wants to devour him, just like Yunho was staring at him in their section. His cock twitches in his pants, his heart twists, it’s been one fucking day and he misses you like he hasn’t had you in months.
He can’t take it anymore. He can’t do this anymore.
He isn’t thinking when he leans forward, sandwiching you between himself and Mingi as his fingers grab his cheeks, there’s no patience in the way Yunho kisses him, no softness, it’s all hunger and relief and driven by every single thought he’s had today. He says each one with each lick into Mingi’s mouth, he hopes he can feel it, the guilt, the fear, the ease he feels just by tasting the whiskey on his tongue.
“Oh my god,” he hears you whisper, it goes one ear and out the other as Mingi groans into his mouth, it goes straight to his cock. He feels you slip from between them as Mingi’s hands find his hair, his hands slide to Mingi’s neck, their chests pressed together like they couldn’t be close enough.
“I love you,” Yunho breaks the kiss only to say the three words into his mouth and he moans. Between kisses, he holds him close, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I fucking love you.”
“They’re watching,” you’re tugging on his arm, panic ebbed in your tone. “Yun, they’re watching you. They can see you.”
He pulls away from Mingi to turn to you, your eyes wide with fear, lips parted, eyes bouncing back and forth between Yunho and what he can only assume is all of your friends. He doesn’t care. There’s no shame, there’s no denial, there’s nothing inside him that could stop him from grabbing you by the waist, throwing the other in your hair, and pressing his lips to yours. He breaks it only to murmur, “Let them see.”
You’re stiff for just a second before melting into him, his kisses softer than those with Mingi, more controlled, like kissing Mingi took the edge off his impulse. “I love you,” he whispers into your mouth. “I don’t give a fuck if they see me kissing you, you’re mine.”
You hook your leg over his thigh, palms on his cheeks, relief flooding you. You tilt your head to the side, smirking, “You couldn’t have said that yesterday?”
“I’m sorry.”
“Stop speaking,” your fingers tighten in his hair. “Your mouth gets you in trouble. Take us home.”
Your friend group watches Yunho guide you both through the club with wide eyes and parted lips, you don’t spare them a glance as you and Mingi trail behind Yunho like dogs to their owner. The Escalades are still parked out front, a few words from Yunho to the driver and he’s opening the door to the backseat for you and Mingi, ushering you inside.
You stole Yunho’s mouth the entire drive, Mingi settling for his neck, the skin on his chest, more with every button he ripped apart. You didn’t speak, you didn’t need to, you’d said everything on the dance floor, specifics could come later. The only thing left was consummation, which was the only thing on your mind as you nearly sprinted through the front door, almost tripping on your feet on the climb upstairs.
“Careful,” Yunho said from behind you when you’d taken two steps at a time, but he couldn’t hold in his laughter, amused at your impatience. You ignored him, forgoing an answer to instead steal his lips once more when you reached the top of the steps.
His hands found your hips, tongue pushing through your lips, you felt Mingi’s palms a steady wait on top of Yunho’s as he backed you into your room, then closed the door behind you. You broke away to untie your dress behind your neck, just for Mingi to trade places with you, stealing Yunho’s mouth.
“Bed,” you said into the air, and watched as they tripped over each other, stepping in each other’s line of direction as they backed closer, closer, and closer to the bed. Mingi fell backwards, Yunho’s hands flying for his belt.
You kissed your boyfriend, who hummed when your lips met his. “Tequila.”
“Tastes good, right?” You smile into the kiss, dress riding up your thighs, body bent over completely to keep your mouth on his.
You can hear Mingi’s pants hit the floor, grabbing your attention. Yunho has his shirt off, Mingi’s briefs discarded. Yunho’s eyes, always cool and collected, are wide, crazed; sparkling with the moonlight that makes a puddle of white at the balcony door, casting the room in a hue of midnight.
Reality settles, and it’s heavy. Drunk you may be, but not drunk enough to not be wondering what’s going through his mind. “Hey,” you offer. His eyes meet yours, charcoal, swirling with moonlight, not quite steady. Your lips curve, “I love you.”
His bare shoulders settle, ease washing over him. He leans over Mingi’s legs, two hands cupping your cheeks as he kisses you deeply, speaking into your mouth, “I love you, too.”
“Holy shit,” you mumble into his mouth, making him giggle right back. He giggled.
He loves you. He fucking loves you.
Mingi reaches for your legs, pulling one over his chest, you’re absent-minded as Yunho keeps his tongue tangled with yours. He pushes your dress up over your hips, holding it up over your waist, and pulls you down to meet his awaiting tongue.
You gasp out a moan as Mingi groans, bare hips bucking against Yunho who was still leaning over him. Yunho leans back, eyes darkening as he takes in the sight, your hips already rolling against Mingi’s tongue.
“Fuck,” Yunho sighs, grabbing his length through his pants, his grip tight like he was pacing his own pleasure. Like seeing you with Mingi might’ve very well brought him closer than he should have been.
Mingi’s arms hook around your thighs, tongue poking out to let your hips rock against it, allowing you to set your own pace, to use him however you want. You waste no time setting a brutal pace, whimpering as his flexed tongue rolls over your clit, as your hips rock back onto his nose. Fingers curling into your skin, searing where they held you, no doubt leaving oval shapes behind, the sting only makes you grind against him harder.
Yunho’s fingers find his button, his zipper, his eyes zeroed in on the sight before him like he couldn’t rip his eyes away if he tried. Indents of strain dimple the space above his brows, just a slight furrow, his hand finds his length again over his briefs, running his flat palm over his hard cock, a moan tumbling off his tongue.
Your eyes flare. “G’na cum just like that? Watching?”
Yunho’s lips part. “Could, if I wanted to.”
You find the hem of your dress at your waist, pulling the thin fabric over your head in one quick motion. Still rocking your hips, abdomen flexed, breasts falling at your chest, Yunho groans.
“Fuck,” he curses under his breath. You hiss when Mingi’s nose catches on your entrance. Yunho’s eyes sink down to where Mingi’s tongue swallows your folds, how it blankets over your core, swiping through, spit sliding down the sides of his mouth. His hand picks up speed over his briefs, hips bucking into his own hand, chest rising and falling heavily, “I might.”
You lean forward, holding Yunho’s eye, moaning as Mingi’s tongue curls inside you. You take Mingi’s length in one hand, the other pressed on his chest, and Mingi’s hips jerk into your hand immediately, a sharp grunt vibrating your thighs.
Mingi’s knees spread, hips bucking off the bed, feet finding the edge of the bed, legs lifting just to spread wider. You keep your eyes on Yunho, voice a husky whisper, “Join.”
As if you were a siren, his body pulls him forward, his hand leaving his cotton-covered cock just to wrap around Mingi’s, his hand fitting perfectly right above yours. Mingi’s palms wrapped around your thighs keep your hips moving as you and Yunho pump his length, one-handed, your eyes never once leaving each other.
“Fuck him,” you nearly whisper, your voice still husky, coated in arousal. “Push his legs up to his chest and fuck him. I have his mouth.”
Yunho gasps, and it would have been silent if you weren’t so close. His face twinges, a jerk of a reaction, like he wasn’t used to someone giving him orders. But his hands find Mingi’s knees, the underside of them, pushing them upward. He leans toward you, taking your lips in his, and as his tongue pushes into your mouth you know it’s claiming. Steadying. Reminding you who he is, who he is to you.
Yunho’s hand disappears between Mingi’s legs, earning a shattered moan spat into your core, you smile through the sound that rips from your chest. Rocking your hips again, sitting up straight once more, Mingi’s fingers singe your thighs, each fingertip like iron soaked in fire.
Mingi’s heels find the bed, cock twitching against his abdomen, leaking all over the stretch of skin beneath his belly button. The skin of your thighs gathers between his fingers, but you rock yourself through it, the pain mixed with the pleasure better than any cocktail you’ve had tonight.
Your head tips back as Yunho preps him, listening to Mingi curse into your folds, whining and whimpering but giving your clit the most attention of all. “S’good, Mingi,” you moan out, reaching behind you to run your fingers through his hair, sounding utterly dazed. “Mm, I love you.”
You barely hear him say it back, his voice lagged, muffled by a mouth full of you, head no doubt fuzzy from Yunho knuckle deep in his ass. You bring your eyes back to the older man who’s focused, taking his time opening him up, prepping him for his cock that neither of you can ever really be prepped for.
“Makin’ a mess, Min,” Yunho comments, finally noticing the painting the younger man made on his own skin. Droplets of pre, ropes that dripped down his sides, Mingi moaned in response. Yunho pushes his legs up, you catch them, palms splayed over his knees, holding him spread.
Beautiful, watching Mingi suck in every single inch. Beautiful, watching Yunho fight every fucking instinct to cum as soon as he bottomed out. It ignited the fire in your gut like you were the one Yunho was splitting open; a harsh moan pushing past your lips, clit throbbing against Mingi’s unmoving tongue. At least he stuck it out, you thought as your hips bucked against him, grinding harshly against the muscle he wanted you to use for your own pleasure.
When Yunho started moving, when Mingi started moaning like nothing has ever felt this good in his life, you could feel it like a phantom limb; brows furrowing, moans growing in pitch, watching your boyfriend fuck your other boyfriend brought you right to the edge.
“Shit… shit,” you moaned, your fingers finding your nipples, pinching, twisting. Hips bucking rapidly, watching Yunho’s abdomen flex as his hips rolled into Mingi’s ass, you neared so close you could taste it. “Gonna cum, Yun, gonna c-cum–”
“Wait,” he ground out, his voice ragged and harsh like he was nearing the brink himself. It made your eyes dart to him, he always lasted, he’s never cum this quickly. Ever. His grin is lazy, his head tipped backward, sweat kissing his moonlight-kissed skin, he utters, “Been waiting– for this, t-to tell you how I feel.” His chin dips, eyes squeezing shut, “Fuck.”
You understood then, that his release was so much more.
“Let me cum,” you urged. “Let me, want to watch you.”
Yunho’s eyes met yours, and agreement shone in the subtle spark of white dancing in charcoal. He leaned forward, wrapping his fingers around your neck, tugging you toward him to crash your lips onto his, shoving his tongue into your mouth, tasting the orgasm that washed over you as soon as you met.
Mingi’s grip rocked you through it, a sob leaving your throat, lips unmoving against Yunho’s. Whispering into your mouth, he uttered, “I love you.”
You couldn’t answer. You couldn’t do anything but roll off Mingi’s face, the younger man gasping for a breath, reaching his arms upward for Yunho. Yunho’s hips didn’t falter as he leaned down, as he pushed Mingi up the bed, crawling onto it himself. Head in the pillows, utterly dazed, lovesick and spent, you watched Yunho take Mingi for everything he’s worth.
Mingi sobbed, hands in Yunho’s hair, muttering I love you over and over again like he couldn’t believe he could say it. Yunho’s hips snapped against his, responding every fucking time Mingi said it, not missing a single time it passed through his lips.
And it occurred to you then, that they were yours. Both of them, finally, for real this time, they were completely yours. So beautiful together, their bodies molding perfectly, lips touching, speaking, not kissing; Mingi’s hands in Yunho’s hair, Yunho cradling Mingi’s cheeks.
You didn’t feel the tears on your cheeks until Mingi spilled onto his stomach, blurry eyes darting to where it dribbled down his side. They didn’t notice until after Yunho emptied himself inside Mingi, when the smack of hips became a sound of slick movement, and their heads turned to yours.
Mingi’s face, fucked-out turned to concerned. Brows bent, lips pouting, he scrounged to sit up on his elbows, “What’s wrong?”
You shook your head, wiping under your eyes. “I just love you, both of you. That’s all.”
Yunho crawled over to you, a warm smile on his lips as he split your knees, placing a cupped palm on your cheek before he pressed a soft kiss to your lips. Wiping your tears, he murmured, “I’m sorry for all the shit I put you through this weekend.”
You sniffed, “I’m just… still a little drunk, you don’t need to console me. I know you’re sorry.”
After cleaning himself up quickly, Mingi curled up to your other side, pressing his lips into your bicep. The two of them watched you like hawks, taking in every micro-expression on your face.
“I’m fine,” you reiterated with a small laugh. “I swear, I’m just emotional. It was an emotional weekend.”
Yunho’s face drooped with guilt. “I’m sorry it took me so long to get my shit together. I didn’t mean anything I said to you–”
Your palms found his cheeks, guiding him down, cutting him off by pressing your lips against his. “I know,” you whispered, eyes opening to look into his. “I know how you feel, I knew the whole time. I’m proud of you.”
His lips quivered. Your smile grows, “Now why are you getting emotional?”
“Because I’ve been searching for this for so fucking long,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. “Searching for you, both of you,” his eyes find Mingi, “in everyone.”
“Search is over,” Mingi rolls on his back, eyes playful, lips pinned up on one side. He looks at Yunho with barely a turn of his head, “Should we throw a party?”
Yunho snorts, pressing another kiss to your lips before throwing your leg over his body, collapsing on your other side. After a moment, he adds, “I’ve never felt more like myself than when I’m with you.”
Both yours and Mingi’s heads turn to him, listening. Yunho’s head angles toward you, but he doesn’t look as he continues, “I think it’s why I’ve never settled down. Nothing ever felt right, not until that first night with you both. I mean, after that, I never really left.”
“You tried,” you add with a grin.
Yunho looks at you just to roll his eyes. “It’s scary knowing the best thing that could ever happen to you is happening to you. I fucked it up before I even had the chance to fuck it up.”
“No you didn’t,” Mingi counters with a shake of his head. “You’re here, we’re here. Everything happened the way it was supposed to.”
Yunho’s quiet for a moment. “Thank you for letting me figure it out. For not abandoning me when I gave you every reason to.”
Before tears have the chance to fill your waterline again, you wrap yourself around him, literally climbing on top of him to attach yourself to him. Whispering into his neck, you say, “That’s what you do when you love someone.”
“And we love you very, very much,” Mingi adds, already cuddled up to Yunho’s side.
Yunho presses his lips to yours, a short, sweet kiss. Then turns to Mingi, pressing another short, sweet kiss to his lips. “And I love you both very, very much, too.”
kq university's newest and hottest social club is dropping their collection from the past quarter, and she's full of drama, comedy, and spice! be there or be square 🫵🤨 (find the flyer here)
the following content will be released between april 10 - april 30. some of the work featured here is 18+ ONLY! heed warnings, respect boundaries, and DON'T FORGET TO REBLOG <3
a message from our club president: thank you so much to all the lovely writers who joined me for this collab!! i was so thrilled to meet so many great writer atinys and i absolutely cannot wait to read your fics 🥹 you were what made this collab so successful, and i can't thank you all enough for your enthusiasm and work 💖 lots of love, beam x
DISCLAIMER: please reach out to individual writers about taglists as i am not managing a taglist for this event :]
DO I KNOW YOU? ☆ @starlitjoong
Freshman year of college was supposed to be your fresh start. Your opportunity to put your best foot forward. Then a familiar face you’re not too thrilled by rips that chance away. Kim Hongjoong was assigned to train you for your new job in the campus library. He was thorough, too thorough, recalling things you didn’t quite want to remember. The memories with your first love haunt you in your sleep. Will seeing him every day cause your hate to grow? Or will the feelings you worked so hard to bury erupt into a chaotic mess of storage closet makeouts and cold shoulders?
HARD TO FOCUS ☆ @belongjoong 18+
physics was never a strong subject for you, but when your hot new tutor kim hongjoong comes to the rescue, you start to wonder if you're really staying for the lessons - or just for him.
ONE MORE LINE ☆ @blizzardfluffykpop 18+
Everything in your senior year of college felt like you needed just one more; one more class, one more test, one more line, and it would all be over, and you could finally rest your bones. And with Hongjoong by your side; every class, every test, every line came easy. And when Tuesdays and Thursdays came to a close, you could peacefully rest your bones beside him. Drawing to your hearts content as he scribbles down a half a page of lines.
CURTAIN CALL ☆ @sangis-puppy
College was draining enough without having D1 athlete and ‘Pride of the school, Chris, up your ass for two years trying to get you in his bed. You’d do anything to get him off your back for even a week of peace. So when the chance to knock him down a few pegs presents itself in the form of Park Seonghwa, a nerdy type that said athlete torments, you take it. What starts as a few campus spottings to get under Chris’s skin turns into blurred lines and moments that feel too real for a fake relationship. Time ticks to Homecoming and the curtain will fall on this act. How will you bow out?
SUNBURN ☆ @sungbeam
you and park seonghwa, petty rivals since the third grade, can't stand the sight of each other. at least, that's what you both claim. sometimes, getting the truth out of two stubborn people just requires turning up the heat.
SWEETHEART ☆ @ja3hwa 18+
ATZ was the place to be. Everyone either wanted to be in the fraternity or be with one of the members... And this push and pull you had seemingly fallen into with one of the brooding frat boys was making you dizzy. Your neck quickly aching from whiplash over the constant what ifs and maybes...
Oh... Oh wait, it was just the dark bruising hickies he left that were the ache and the overflow of alcohol that made you dizzy... Whoops.
LEVEL ZERO ☆ @03jyh23 18+
Jeong Yunho is the human equivalent of a system crash. A 6’2” wreck of stuttered sentences, fogged-up glasses, and nerves he can’t outgrow. He has spent his first year of college trying to be invisible. He’s a tactical genius on screen, but on campus, he can barely survive a three-word greeting without his voice cracking.
He tries to start a Gaming Club in a basement that smells like dust and dump. When a pack of “Mean Girls” turns his recruitment drive into a public execution, you step in.
You lie. You improvise. You claim you’re his pro-tier carry—his star recruit.
Now you learn the hard way: Rule #1 of saving a cute nerd from bullies is this—don’t claim you’re an expert in a game you’ve never heard of.
NEW PERSPECTIVE ☆ @from-izzy
the stage has always been jeong yunho's, star university's top acting student, happiest place. but as time goes on, and pressure makes him slip away from acting, a certain girl with her canvas paints a story from a new perspective that keeps him going.
SLEEPOVERS IN MY BED ☆ @everyonewooeverywhere 18+
jeong yunho and song mingi have always been the campus's "it couple." even those who don't know them say they're a match made in heaven--meant to be in every universe. but you know different. you know the truth: that jeong yunho spends her sunday nights in your bed and song mingi is a fucking weirdo. but while her boyfriend thinks she's studying, you're giving her what he could never fulfill. she may love him, but at least she's in your bed.
AFTER HOURS ☆ @17teezers 18+
being an ra comes with a lot of responsibilities: managing residents, hosting events, surviving move in day… but apparently you need to learn how to survive your co-ra, kang yeosang, as well. that definitely wasn’t in the manual.
he’s professional, intelligent, organized, and also really good at making you feel stupid. after being assigned the same floor, you start to realize he might not be as bad as you thought. which would be fine — if there wasn’t one very simple rule: don’t date your coworkers.
LITTLE MISS CATASTROPHE ☆ @hyungszn
meet kang yeosang. sophomore, gymnast, and most importantly, campus’ most eligible omega. yeosang’s been trying to set the record straight for years but thanks to his slightly awkward nature, people kind of just brush him off for a pretty face. however just when he thinks of giving up, the universe concocts the most disastrous “outing” imaginable: you.
WATER GIRL ☆ @yeonlymine 18+
between lectures and slaving in the training room, choosing athletic training as your work study job was supposed to be the easy part of college. until a transfer named yeosang joins the roster mid season and suddenly the nickname “water girl” isn’t just harmless locker room teasing anymore.
A PACK A DAY ☆ @maho6any 18+
you asked him what kind of doctor smokes? he said he'd quit once he gets his degree. you didn't like each other very much. you hated that you sat next to each other in class, to which you both used the excuse that it was only because it was the desk closest to the wall outlet. the professor seems to think you do this by choice, and decides you would be the perfect pair for the childcare simulation. and unfortunately for you and your poor sensitive heart, a pack a day does not in fact keep the doctor away
HANDS ON ME ☆ @xomakara 18+
You join KQ University’s Taekwondo club and immediately get underestimated — especially by San, the star member who treats you like you might break. When you finally reveal your true skill by sweeping him in a spar, everything shifts, and San becomes fascinated, competitive, and increasingly drawn to you.
DARE ☆ @minkieater 18+
you can’t fucking stand jung wooyoung, mingi really really wants kim minjeong. when wooyoung and winter end up together, you and mingi have no choice but to figure out how to win winter’s favor, to stab wooyoung in the back. mingi needs a favor, and you want revenge... do you dare?
PAS DE DEUX ☆ @way2jellyous 18+
at Seoul's most prestigious ballet university, no pair is more legendary than you and Ikhyun - until a scandal destroys his career overnight. Varna is coming up, and you're forced to pick a new partner. But maybe some things are never meant to be replaced. - or lowkey a k-drama that somehow got converted to a fanfic on tumblr dot com
PIPE DREAM ☆ @yestodayys 18+
song mingi is a lot of things. he’s top of the class you hate the most, a mutual friend of your roommates, probably the best dressed guy on campus… and now he’s haunting your dreams, too.
FLASH POINT ☆ @hyungszn 18+
there’s a very thin line between lust and hate; a concept of which you are intimately familiar. when you push, wooyoung pulls, and soon what started out as a battle of wills has quickly morphed into a war of temptation with no ceasefire in sight. TL;DR: in a world where opposites are meant to attract, you and wooyoung couldn’t be more alike… so why the hell do you want each other so bad?
KANJO ☆ @jitaewoo 18+
there’s two subgroups of hashiriyas that rule japan: the kanjozoku of osaka and the roulettezoku of tokyo.
in osaka, you live your days out either on campus or at work. on the outside, it’s all seems so repetitive and boring—but that is exactly what you want. then, one day, it all gets messed up when a new transfer student, jung wooyoung, comes and threatens to shatter everything you have built. stupid tokyo boys have no clue what really goes on in osaka, and wooyoung is going to have to learn the hard way.
THE OFF LIMITS RULE ☆ @stxrrywoo 18+
coming back from studying abroad for two years you had two goals in mind: win the annual end of summer fashion design contest and jung wooyoung... your brothers best friend. only issue? your brother had forbidden you from his friends and likewise has forbidden his friends from you. yet when yeosang gets the opportunity to study abroad you start to see an opportunity to finally make your move, so you take it. I mean.... what's the worst that could happen?
AS IF ☆ @moooonandroses 18+
you and jongho can’t stand each other, but the universe doesn't seem to catch the signals. everywhere you went, he was there. friends teased you both, saying that you liked each other so much you were manifesting the other everywhere. ugh, as if you would ever like him, right?
[NOUN] LOVE ☆ @redemptions 18+
you and jongho met as children during a letter writing project. years later, you get the chance to meet in person because of a study exchange but you are determined to keep your feelings a secret - after all, how do you tell your best friend you’re in love with him?
THE LAW OF ATTRACTION ☆ @jinkoh
Jongho was everything you weren’t: ambitious, diligent, promising—all in all the perfect law school student. Naturally, your chaos didn’t fit into his prearranged life. Not for long, anyway. Your silly little relationship was never meant to last. So how come you couldn't seem to move on? Of course, being grouped together for a semester-long assignment didn't exactly help your case.
kq university's newest and hottest social club is dropping their collection from the past quarter, and she's full of drama, comedy, and spice! be there or be square 🫵🤨 (find the flyer here)
the following content will be released between april 10 - april 30. some of the work featured here is 18+ ONLY! heed warnings, respect boundaries, and DON'T FORGET TO REBLOG <3
a message from our club president: thank you so much to all the lovely writers who joined me for this collab!! i was so thrilled to meet so many great writer atinys and i absolutely cannot wait to read your fics 🥹 you were what made this collab so successful, and i can't thank you all enough for your enthusiasm and work 💖 lots of love, beam x
DISCLAIMER: please reach out to individual writers about taglists as i am not managing a taglist for this event :]
DO I KNOW YOU? ☆ @starlitjoong
Freshman year of college was supposed to be your fresh start. Your opportunity to put your best foot forward. Then a familiar face you’re not too thrilled by rips that chance away. Kim Hongjoong was assigned to train you for your new job in the campus library. He was thorough, too thorough, recalling things you didn’t quite want to remember. The memories with your first love haunt you in your sleep. Will seeing him every day cause your hate to grow? Or will the feelings you worked so hard to bury erupt into a chaotic mess of storage closet makeouts and cold shoulders?
HARD TO FOCUS ☆ @belongjoong 18+
physics was never a strong subject for you, but when your hot new tutor kim hongjoong comes to the rescue, you start to wonder if you're really staying for the lessons - or just for him.
ONE MORE LINE ☆ @blizzardfluffykpop 18+
Everything in your senior year of college felt like you needed just one more; one more class, one more test, one more line, and it would all be over, and you could finally rest your bones. And with Hongjoong by your side; every class, every test, every line came easy. And when Tuesdays and Thursdays came to a close, you could peacefully rest your bones beside him. Drawing to your hearts content as he scribbles down a half a page of lines.
CURTAIN CALL ☆ @sangis-puppy
College was draining enough without having D1 athlete and ‘Pride of the school, Chris, up your ass for two years trying to get you in his bed. You’d do anything to get him off your back for even a week of peace. So when the chance to knock him down a few pegs presents itself in the form of Park Seonghwa, a nerdy type that said athlete torments, you take it. What starts as a few campus spottings to get under Chris’s skin turns into blurred lines and moments that feel too real for a fake relationship. Time ticks to Homecoming and the curtain will fall on this act. How will you bow out?
SUNBURN ☆ @sungbeam
you and park seonghwa, petty rivals since the third grade, can't stand the sight of each other. at least, that's what you both claim. sometimes, getting the truth out of two stubborn people just requires turning up the heat.
SWEETHEART ☆ @ja3hwa 18+
ATZ was the place to be. Everyone either wanted to be in the fraternity or be with one of the members... And this push and pull you had seemingly fallen into with one of the brooding frat boys was making you dizzy. Your neck quickly aching from whiplash over the constant what ifs and maybes...
Oh... Oh wait, it was just the dark bruising hickies he left that were the ache and the overflow of alcohol that made you dizzy... Whoops.
LEVEL ZERO ☆ @03jyh23 18+
Jeong Yunho is the human equivalent of a system crash. A 6’2” wreck of stuttered sentences, fogged-up glasses, and nerves he can’t outgrow. He has spent his first year of college trying to be invisible. He’s a tactical genius on screen, but on campus, he can barely survive a three-word greeting without his voice cracking.
He tries to start a Gaming Club in a basement that smells like dust and dump. When a pack of “Mean Girls” turns his recruitment drive into a public execution, you step in.
You lie. You improvise. You claim you’re his pro-tier carry—his star recruit.
Now you learn the hard way: Rule #1 of saving a cute nerd from bullies is this—don’t claim you’re an expert in a game you’ve never heard of.
NEW PERSPECTIVE ☆ @from-izzy
the stage has always been jeong yunho's, star university's top acting student, happiest place. but as time goes on, and pressure makes him slip away from acting, a certain girl with her canvas paints a story from a new perspective that keeps him going.
SLEEPOVERS IN MY BED ☆ @everyonewooeverywhere 18+
jeong yunho and song mingi have always been the campus's "it couple." even those who don't know them say they're a match made in heaven--meant to be in every universe. but you know different. you know the truth: that jeong yunho spends her sunday nights in your bed and song mingi is a fucking weirdo. but while her boyfriend thinks she's studying, you're giving her what he could never fulfill. she may love him, but at least she's in your bed.
AFTER HOURS ☆ @17teezers 18+
being an ra comes with a lot of responsibilities: managing residents, hosting events, surviving move in day… but apparently you need to learn how to survive your co-ra, kang yeosang, as well. that definitely wasn’t in the manual.
he’s professional, intelligent, organized, and also really good at making you feel stupid. after being assigned the same floor, you start to realize he might not be as bad as you thought. which would be fine — if there wasn’t one very simple rule: don’t date your coworkers.
LITTLE MISS CATASTROPHE ☆ @hyungszn
meet kang yeosang. sophomore, gymnast, and most importantly, campus’ most eligible omega. yeosang’s been trying to set the record straight for years but thanks to his slightly awkward nature, people kind of just brush him off for a pretty face. however just when he thinks of giving up, the universe concocts the most disastrous “outing” imaginable: you.
WATER GIRL ☆ @yeonlymine 18+
between lectures and slaving in the training room, choosing athletic training as your work study job was supposed to be the easy part of college. until a transfer named yeosang joins the roster mid season and suddenly the nickname “water girl” isn’t just harmless locker room teasing anymore.
A PACK A DAY ☆ @maho6any 18+
you asked him what kind of doctor smokes? he said he'd quit once he gets his degree. you didn't like each other very much. you hated that you sat next to each other in class, to which you both used the excuse that it was only because it was the desk closest to the wall outlet. the professor seems to think you do this by choice, and decides you would be the perfect pair for the childcare simulation. and unfortunately for you and your poor sensitive heart, a pack a day does not in fact keep the doctor away
HANDS ON ME ☆ @xomakara 18+
You join KQ University’s Taekwondo club and immediately get underestimated — especially by San, the star member who treats you like you might break. When you finally reveal your true skill by sweeping him in a spar, everything shifts, and San becomes fascinated, competitive, and increasingly drawn to you.
DARE ☆ @minkieater 18+
you can’t fucking stand jung wooyoung, mingi really really wants kim minjeong. when wooyoung and winter end up together, you and mingi have no choice but to figure out how to win winter’s favor, to stab wooyoung in the back. mingi needs a favor, and you want revenge... do you dare?
PAS DE DEUX ☆ @way2jellyous 18+
at Seoul's most prestigious ballet university, no pair is more legendary than you and Ikhyun - until a scandal destroys his career overnight. Varna is coming up, and you're forced to pick a new partner. But maybe some things are never meant to be replaced. - or lowkey a k-drama that somehow got converted to a fanfic on tumblr dot com
PIPE DREAM ☆ @yestodayys 18+
song mingi is a lot of things. he’s top of the class you hate the most, a mutual friend of your roommates, probably the best dressed guy on campus… and now he’s haunting your dreams, too.
FLASH POINT ☆ @hyungszn 18+
there’s a very thin line between lust and hate; a concept of which you are intimately familiar. when you push, wooyoung pulls, and soon what started out as a battle of wills has quickly morphed into a war of temptation with no ceasefire in sight. TL;DR: in a world where opposites are meant to attract, you and wooyoung couldn’t be more alike… so why the hell do you want each other so bad?
KANJO ☆ @jitaewoo 18+
there’s two subgroups of hashiriyas that rule japan: the kanjozoku of osaka and the roulettezoku of tokyo.
in osaka, you live your days out either on campus or at work. on the outside, it’s all seems so repetitive and boring—but that is exactly what you want. then, one day, it all gets messed up when a new transfer student, jung wooyoung, comes and threatens to shatter everything you have built. stupid tokyo boys have no clue what really goes on in osaka, and wooyoung is going to have to learn the hard way.
THE OFF LIMITS RULE ☆ @stxrrywoo 18+
coming back from studying abroad for two years you had two goals in mind: win the annual end of summer fashion design contest and jung wooyoung... your brothers best friend. only issue? your brother had forbidden you from his friends and likewise has forbidden his friends from you. yet when yeosang gets the opportunity to study abroad you start to see an opportunity to finally make your move, so you take it. I mean.... what's the worst that could happen?
AS IF ☆ @moooonandroses 18+
you and jongho can’t stand each other, but the universe doesn't seem to catch the signals. everywhere you went, he was there. friends teased you both, saying that you liked each other so much you were manifesting the other everywhere. ugh, as if you would ever like him, right?
[NOUN] LOVE ☆ @redemptions 18+
you and jongho met as children during a letter writing project. years later, you get the chance to meet in person because of a study exchange but you are determined to keep your feelings a secret - after all, how do you tell your best friend you’re in love with him?
THE LAW OF ATTRACTION ☆ @jinkoh
Jongho was everything you weren’t: ambitious, diligent, promising—all in all the perfect law school student. Naturally, your chaos didn’t fit into his prearranged life. Not for long, anyway. Your silly little relationship was never meant to last. So how come you couldn't seem to move on? Of course, being grouped together for a semester-long assignment didn't exactly help your case.
!! pairing: cheshire cat!woo & alice!reader (mention of king of hearts!san)
!! genres: fantasy, smut (MINORS DNI)
!! summary: all you wanted was to go back home, the cheshire cat? he had other plans.
!! warnings: nsfw (smut), dubcon, psychological manipulation, power imbalance, fingering, oral (f!receiving), mentions of violence/killing
!! word count: 2.9k
!! playlist: cigarette ahegao by penelope scott , a little bit harder now by she wants revenge , angel by massive attack
!! a/n: so...honestly i dont know how i came up w this i just felt like he'd be the cheshire cat and yea!! (first oneshot series ever vv nervous w how this will go lmao) i really hope this isnt caca and anyone who reads enjoys :) <3 also i like...kinda lightly proofread this so pls dont mind any odd mistakes
The laugh came from nowhere and echoed everywhere. Amused, it’d left the lips of someone who knew a secret. The entire world had a secret she simply wasn’t in on. Her head whirled around all the different directions, an expression of exhaustion plastered all over her features. “I’m going mad” she murmured, tears brimming in the corners of her wary eyes.
“We’re all a bit mad around here sweetheart” a taunting voice crooned in her ear, the sound of a tree branch shifting caught her ear. When her gaze snapped upward, she was met with a wide smirk. A wide smirk floating illogically above her, a mouth that beamed. Her mouth opened, yet the words died on her tongue.
“Don’t fret, I’m not really all there” The mouth moved, and slowly a face materialized. Bright yellow irises in eyes that teased her. Jet hair with tufts that framed the man’s face, dark purple cat ears peeking through. Limbs one by one, assembled themselves across the branch’s length. Fabrics distorted out of air to drape over him, a smoky mauve silk shirt that dipped to reveal the bare skin of his chest. Fitted slacks of deep plum, yet glistened as a dizzying fuschia.
He lay languidly along the tree branch, not even a sound came from the flimsy wood. “The girl the forest has raved on about, ___” he hummed knowingly. Striped tail swinging downward like a lazy pendulum. “Who are you?” When the courage finally made its way to her throat, he let out a low laugh. Gaze lit as he peered at her, “I’m everything yet, nothing. To most, the Cheshire Cat. But, you? You may call me Wooyoung”.
Humming to himself, his knowing stare sneered at her. The statement came out in a sing-song tone, face now propped in his hand while his shadow on the turquoise ground warped unnaturally. “You want to go home don’t you sweetheart?” The pet name felt condescending, tail brushing against her cheek as if it’d console her. Pulse racing as she nodded quickly, it elicited a mocking pout from him. “Please I must get back home Wooyoung-” His ridiculing exhale interrupted her, peering down at her whilst he shook his head. “Sweetheart, what does home mean to you?”. Her tongue poked at her inner cheek, his brows raised while tapped at his wrist.
“Peculiar, they always say the same thing” A sigh of pure frustration spilled from her lips, fists balled up at her side. There was nothing more she wanted than to be away from this distorted forest that perplexed her, laying safe in her bed. “I am begging you, please tell me how to get home” he stared at her, lips curled into a grin that seemed to be his staple.
“Those seeking answers try the king”. “I don’t give a-”. “Language sweetheart, that’s no way to talk” the wide grin hinted otherwise, her brows knitted together as she contemplated his words. “I don’t need a king, I need a way back home” her jaw ticked, arms folding over each other as she tapped at the ground. It thrummed back, trees groaning in lecture.
“If it’s answers you want, they send you to the king” his tone inviting while he repeated himself. “How…how do I find” he didn’t bother to let her finish, tail curling forward to point down the path. “Some choose this path, others? Follow the rabbit. You however, may as well pass through here” his tail drew a shape into the air, wind gusting in her direction. A doorway into..a garden? With roses dripping in bloody paint.
She took a step forward, the Cheshire cat’s laughter dissipating with the doorway. The air was thick, servants dressed as cards rushed around the garden. Buckets of rouge and paintbrushes doused in the paint, swiping frantically over white roses perfectly in bloom. She didn’t have time to speak, a card shoving a pail and brush into her hands. “Make haste, start on that bush” he murmured, voice pitchy with dread of something.
“I’m looking for the King” she replied, only to receive restless silence in response. The ground shook with the intensity of an earthquake, the cards assembling in a line inhumanly swift. Keeling forward and pressing their heads into the minty grass.
“You don’t belong here do you my dear?” A deep voice, polite? Somehow it sliced through the atmosphere scarily calm. A tall man, clad in a suit of dark wine. Atop his head rested a crown of dangerous metal shards, tips decorated in hearts. His face was serene, gaze as sharp as his features.
The smile on his face was genuine enough to unsettle her. “Now, it is rude to leave questions unanswered” his words brought her out of her anxious thoughts. A hand beckoning her forward, scowling guards assembled behind him. “I..I’m not from here, I’m trying to find my way home” shifting on her feet, he nodded in understanding.
“But of course my dearest. Aren’t the roses lovely this time of year, sweetheart” The final word, her ears perked up. It didn’t come from the king now guiding her through the garden. A breath near her ear, head tilting to find a fading leer beside her head.
“Did you say that?” She questioned, the King’s smile tightening imperceptibly. “Did I say what dear?” He led her into a court-like room. A white rabbit impatiently glancing at his pocket watch, card soldiers sounding trumpets while the King walked. “I…just thought you-“ her eyes widened when she realized where she was standing.
A courtroom jury made up of an array of humans with animal features. Dressed to the nines in clashing, vivid colors. Their eyes glued to her, now standing in the middle of the room like a child being ridiculed. “Now my dear, you stand in my courtroom, you ought to show some respect” The king’s footsteps echoed on the marbled flooring, even and definite.
“His majesty of Wonderland, his excellency Choi San, the King of Hearts calls the court in session” The white rabbit stood beside the judge’s box where the king was now sat, looking over the crowd with kindness. “The suspect, ___, whom is charged on treason against the kingdom” His foot thumped rapidly as he spoke, and she stared dumbfounded at the scene.
“Are you mad-“. “Dear, you mustn’t speak unless spoken to. Your turn to defend yourself will come, I’m nothing if not gracious” the king’s tone held finality that had her biting down on her tongue. He was her only way back home, as much as this entire dream was absurd, she nodded slowly.
“Now then, you may speak, tell me how you plead my dear?” She immediately opened her mouth to reply, chuckling coming from her left side. The ghost of a tail trailing on her calf halting her, “Right on time” he whispered. “I need you to shut up!” The words came out louder than she’d intended, the jury erupting into gasps at the blasphemy.
“No no- I was talking to the cat! I plead innocent, your majesty” She spoke nervously, a nod of approval soothing her jittery nerves momentarily. His excellency stared at her, calculating. Fingers thrumming at the wooden desk, rhythmic until just one finger hit differently. “Ah, they always do this next” the devil..no the cat on her shoulder remarked, probably grinning. The king’s incessant drumming came to an abrupt pause.
“Oh my dear, this simply won’t do.”
The card soldiers stood in formation, barrelling towards her. The jury shrieked together, off time by the sliver of a second, “GUILTY! OFF WITH HER HEAD!”. The world blurred around her in hauntingly saturated streaks of color. When the shadows twisted and loomed closer, her head turned painfully slow. The exit stretched further and she bolted towards it. Each of her steps felt heavy, sluggish. She felt the pinch of the guard’s spade spear grazing her back, yanking the door.
Running down the winding hallway, each time she turned the corner it led back to the courtroom. A hare from the jury thumped towards her from the left, appearing on the right and charging right for her. Sharp left and somehow, the hallway led into Tulgey Wood. Tree branches fell lower, crowding her in. The pathway, claustrophobically narrow.
Her lungs cried for even breaths, face sheen with sweat as she kept dashing. The soldiers and jury alike chased after her, hollering about her treason. Her eyes were trained in front and behind her, yet missed the tree branch that stretched with intention. A meek yelp and she fell face first, the sounds of the crowd growing near impossibly fast.
Tears welled in the corners of her eyes as the ground rumbled with the crowd, just as angry it seemed. She shifted just a bit, legs aching as she leaned her head against the tree trunk. Shadows cast over the ground, she ready to close her eyes and accept the sick joke that was fate.
“Right on time sweetheart”
A smug grin dressed Wooyoung as he waved leisurely down at her, petting her head with his tail. Her eyes widening as she jerked her head upward, wincing when it came into harsh contact with the tree bark. Just as she scrambled to her feet, the guards turned around the corner, they would be there in seconds. His body faded leisurely, materializing with no rush to the imminent danger.
Tail winding itself around her waist, a possession. She opened her mouth to beg him to get her out, yet the guards paused right before her. All the while his chest pressed against her back, warm breath shackling around her throat. Soon enough the herd of people bolted in the opposite direction, and air gushed into her tired lungs. Pulse stuttering in response. They passed like she wasn't standing there in plain sight.
“And here you are”. The words felt..intentful. His body shifted just a bit closer, making her aware of how close he stood. Tail tightening, and no guards were near. He remained there, suffocating her personal space. ‘Why isn’t he moving?’ A thought meant to remain in the depths of her mind.
His lips ghosted over the shell of her ear, his hand stroking her waist. “Why would I, sweetheart?” Her throat tightened, mouth dry. An embarrassed flush crept from her face to the tips of her ears, and it pestered her. This was a cruel nightmare yet, goosebumps rose along her arm when he whispered. A voice of velvet, temptation wrapped in silk. Her instincts begged her to end this hellish encounter.
Yet, her feet remained planted on the ground, each breath hesitant. Tail trailing along the side of her legs, an intrigued purr reverberated at her ear. “Wonderland finds its way to balance the scales”. A beat of silence followed, guiding. “You..you knew” the absent lean a fraction of an inch backward. Wonderland, which reacted to her tiniest of movements, slowed down. The hand at her waist became both on either side.
“There it is, sweetheart” His tone dipped, its newfound depth dizzying. “All this time?” her head tilted to find his face a heartbeat away. Lips curled up into the shadow of a leer, eyes narrowed to hungry slits. “You knew the ending” she breathed in his slow exhale, her gaze roaming over him with realization. “You..planned it all” she felt the chuckle spill from him, his lips silhouetting her own. “You always do catch on eventually” her brain was trained on him, his face blurred slightly from their closeness.
Inevitable, was the way his lips moulded to hers. Plush, his hands gripped at her waist. When the tree trunk hit her back, she couldn’t remember. He was hypnotic, and wrong. Her body ached ‘yes’, brain blaring ‘no’. Her lower lip tugged between his teeth, an eye peeking at her involuntary whine. “I wondered if you’d do that again, sweetheart” the purr deep in his chest, face dwindling to the crook of her neck.
The warm puff of air burnt flames at her heated skin. His lips pressed at her pulse, musing at its stuttered pace. “You-” Any semblance of a sentence was caught in her throat. When his hand had hitched beneath the tattered edges of her blue dress, she couldn’t grasp. Not when his agile fingers played with the hem of her underwear. “Always so clueless” he breathed, prodding at the soaked cloth separating his finger from where she needed him most.
A strangled moan clawed out of her throat in lieu of her question, a lengthy digit sheathed in her aching heat. His pleased laugh replied, “Enough talking sweetheart”. His finger slid in and out of her at a painfully languid pace, drawing out obscenities he simply ‘tsked’ at. Like most of his actions, it was unexpected when his finger slipped out of her needy cunt. It stirred a whimper out of her, yet her eyes followed his movements with thirst.
“Hm” observational, lidded gaze glued to hers as he brought his middle finger to his lips. Glossy with her arousal, his tongue flicked at the digit. Wrapping his lips around it, she watched him with wide eyes. Flabbergasted and mystified as to why he lowered to his knees, holding her gaze while he spoke. “Curious, you always did enjoy this more” Before she could question him, the answer lay in his actions.
A clawed nail tore through the middle of her underwear, before his lips attached themselves to her sopping cunt. Her head lolled backward, stray hairs caught in the rough bark. It dug into her back but all she could think of was the way his tongue thrusted into her. Controlled strokes as he licked at her gummy walls, free hand drawing circles onto her swollen clit. “Fuck” she whispered, breathless.
Eyes rolling into the back of her head as he slurped up her arousal, stray droplets dribbling down his chin. She found herself unable to form cohesive words. His tongue caressing her gushing insides. All she could think of was him. Pitchy moans bubbled from her lips. The forest a murky pink, dazing. Breaths coming out in short pants. Her muscles tensed when a finger found its way into her amidst his tongue taunting her slit.
His rumbling laugh sent euphoric vibrations through her, desperate cries coming out before she could stop them. She just barely registered his furry tail lingering at her cheek, brushing away a tear of stimulation. It curled around her chin, leading her to find glowing amber eyes smirking at her.
Knot in her stomach tightening, his clawed hands gripped at her thighs. Holding her firm, yet the way they dug in her skin. Threatening to draw blood, deliberate. Muscles quivering, it all felt..eerily real. Sucking in a shaky breath, the air filled her a beat too late. The forest colors that once stung her eyes, dulling subtly.
“There it is” he murmured, pulling away. Her hand darted out to tug him back, yet it moved in slow motion. The trunk her back once lay against, dissolved into black nothingness. “Don’t fret sweetheart” he stood up to his full height, yet felt too far. Arm reached out as she grabbed at air, falling backward while he merely observed.
Grinning.
Knowing.
“Don’t worry, you always come back”
The sun’s rays burned through her eyelids, heaving for air as she sat upright. Her back ached..from laying on her dingy couch? A throw blanket haphazardly thrown over herself, yet it didn’t shield her from the living room’s icy atmosphere. Television buzzing with whatever she’d left on last night, her eyes roamed around.
Mundane, just as she’d left it.
A dream. They were all results of random neurons firing. She knew that better than anyone. Yet why did something gnaw at her thoughts all morning. As though she had forgotten something crucial. Somehow the feeling was brushed into the back of her head. Perhaps it was an essay her professor would chew her off about later during lectures. Regardless, her bag was packed and she currently stood impatiently in line.
“Coffee…it’ll clear my head” she spoke to herself, scrolling through her seemingly endless emails. She didn’t bother looking up, clicking at her phone while she ordered a simple black coffee. “Will that be all, sweetheart?“
Silence. The patrons were a lightyear away. Her head snapped up, only to find the barista staring at her unamused. She let out a quiet exhale, shaking her head as she retrieved her receipt. She stood amongst the crowd awaiting their drinks, ‘A coincidence, he was being nice’.
“Order for __?” Did she say her name to the cashier? She couldn’t recall, it felt weirdly fuzzy in thought. Shrugging she walked over the counter, grabbing the cup and glancing at the barista. He looked familiar, a name at the tip of her tongue. Yet his gaze was polite, like that of any underpaid cafe employee.
She inspected the cup absently, expecting to see her name scribbled on it. The cafe’s noises felt like they were hushing. Incessant machinery’s whirring coming to a steadied silence. The people no longer truly present.
“Not all here”
Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the once chocolate eyes shift, practiced. Yellow, cat-like slits. The floor felt softer beneath her shoes, grassy. A freight train felt like it’d rammed right into her. She’d never really left Wonderland at all.
pairing: wooyoung x f reader genre: fluff and smut wc: 11.9k
it's almost Valentine's Day, and for the first time in your life, you're on your own. an empty house with no parents seems the perfect opportunity for anything; your best friend wants a party, and your cousin hopes for the chance to slow down. but all you want is for your sly, stunning pool boy to finally act on what his eyes have been promising
chapter warnings: smut, MDNI, fingering, vaginal sex
a/n: this fic is written for the lovely @vampzity! I really hope you enjoy <333 the hugest shoutout to @everyonewooeverywhere for setting up this fic exchange event!! can't wait to read everybody's work! <3
my masterlist | fic exchange masterlist
Sunday, February 1st - 4:59am
"Good morning sweet pea!"
The air inside Twisted Treats was a rush of much needed warmth. You squinted as you closed the back door with a click; it was Sumin, your best friend, calling, but in the early hours of the morning the light was too low in the bakery to see her. You followed your ears; the only sound was coming from the coffee bar, hissing and the soft hum of the grinder. The air smelled of fresh dark roast and the promise of a little more energy. With sleepy eyes and heavy legs you dragged yourself there.
"Morning," you mumbled as you spotted her, already busy and prepping, her black hair tied back in a perfect high pony. Running a hand across your jaw, you tugged at the sleeves of your huge winter coat, blinking in an attempt to wake yourself a bit.
"You sound chipper," she joked, grabbing a mug from the cupboard above and setting it below the just-starting drip of the machine.
"Just need some coffee and breakfast." You gave her a small smile, yawning for the millionth time that morning. You had more trouble sleeping last night than expected; it was so uncomfortably quiet in the house. You tried not to think about it as you turned to your left, hanging your coat in the back closet and setting your bag in your cubby.
"I'll make us some breakfast burritos," she said once you appeared again, and you nodded. Sumin was in her bee mode, buzzing from one thing to the next, normal for her at this time of the morning. Even in winter, the cold desert wind whipping her red cheeks as she ran in from the car, she was here and ready. Nothing could deter her; she had the kind of work ethic most could only dream of. It was the reason her mother, the owner of this quaint little bakery, trusted her to open all on her own.
"Your mom get to California in one piece?" she asked.
"Yeah, she texted me last night when she landed. It's such a quick flight, barely two hours." You were tying back your own hair, trying to ready yourself.
"Someone better have made me some coffee!" a grumbly voice called from the back door, Hongjoong waltzing in with messy hair and dark under-eye bags, his shoulders hunched.
"I call dibs on that one," you pouted, grabbing the mug as it almost overflowed, replacing it with another.
"But I'm your favorite cousin."
"You're my only cousin."
"Only and favorite."
Sumin flicked on the back kitchen's light and it seeped all the way to the front counters, where stacks of heart-shaped rolls and empanadas sat waiting for the morning rush. Hongjoong's face looked pale and dull in the harshness of it, the yellow fluorescent twinge reflecting off his cheeks, hollow. You rolled your eyes at him but handed over the mug, feeling a pang of concern.
"Works every time," he laughed, before wrapping an arm around your shoulder, kissing your temple. "Your mom's in Cali now, right?"
"Mmhm."
"Was it weird having the house all to yourself last night?" It was so like him to worry about you, even though it was he who really needed the worry.
"Yeah, I couldn't sleep," you sighed, rubbing your eyes. "I'm sorry if I make no sense today, my brain feels like scrambled eggs."
"You know you can always come stay with me."
"Me too!" Sumin called from the stove.
"Both of you live with too many people already, I don't wanna impose. It's fine, I'll be fine." You waved them off, saving the second cup of coffee from overflowing, setting it aside to cool. You grabbed the key from the drawer, unlocking the register, setting everything in motion. Not an hour from now the first customers would be shuffling in, and that meant one thing; take the dough Sumin had already started for the bagels and start forming them. There wasn't time in the morning for drawn out conversation, no chance to fret over each other. They both knew that as well as you did.
The three of you worked in practiced silence for the next half hour; every move choreographed, breakfast done as soon as the bagels were ready for their second proof. It was inhaled, not a second to waste, and you scrambled to gulp down the last half of your coffee, it having gone lukewarm and somewhat unpleasant. But you didn't really care, it was all for function; you just needed that little boost of energy before the rest of Sumin's sisters arrived, all their eyes droopy with sleep.
"I need coffee," Yoon whined from the back door, walking towards you with a targeted look of desperation, her eyebrows turned up. She and Sieun were working the front today first thing, the shift a strange mixture of rush and absolute dead silence.
"No coffee till you're twenty, you know that," Sumin scolded from the back.
"But I'm tired."
"Why didn't you trade shifts with Isa today?"
"She was out late last night with a boy," Yoon pouted.
"Boys ain't shit!" Hongjoong called from the back, the clang of something punctuating his words.
"Pipe down, we're about to open!" you called back, eyeing the start of the short line that formed every morning out front.
Yoon looked too, sighing and suddenly dropping the act. She really was quite mature for eighteen, but she liked to try her luck when she could; oftentimes her doe eyes and button nose, mixed with the right tone of need, could sway a decision. But with her older sister it rarely worked, especially when it came to the family business.
"Is Sieun here?" Sumin called, just as the back door swung open again, then slammed shut.
"Sorry, my fucking alarm didn't work this morning for some reason and this little butt-" she pinched Yoon's arm, then pulled her head down to place a kiss on her cheek, "-didn't come and wake me."
"You always wake up later than me, I thought you were still getting dressed," Yoon called.
"It's all good, I'm here now," she sighed, throwing her stuff into the back closet, then running to the front door. "We ready guys?" she called. Taking the largest key from her set and turning it in the lock, she opened the door with a flourish as the morning regulars shuffled in.
As soon as they did the bagels finished, and the rush began, not a moment to think. It was a satisfying way to start the day; no chance to ponder or worry about anything, your energy needed here and there, an extra set of hands or a measuring cup frantically washed. You loved seeing how productive you all were; Hongjoong's strong arms kneading, the girls at the front making lattes so fast it seemed they were stuck in double speed. The hours flew by and before you knew it your stomach was grumbling; it was late morning, time for another meal, the rush finally over.
"Hey," Sumin said, coming over to sit with you at the one table in the back, wood benches long and open. She put her arms around you, finally having the chance to really say hello. "You doing okay? You seemed kinda down this morning."
"Oh, yeah, I'm alright. I just didn't get much sleep last night. It's weird being in there alone."
"That house is so huge," she sighed, nodding. "Seriously, you can come stay at mine, my mom won't care. She already wants you to come over every night for dinner."
"I know, but I just think it's time for me to be on my own, figure it out, you know? I feel like I've been so pampered by my parents. I need to mix things up, need to learn to do shit on my own."
"You do tons of shit on your own, what do you mean?"
"Yeah, but, I don't know, I just feel so juvenile sometimes. Never had a real boyfriend, never lived away from home..."
"Well most boys kinda suck, and frankly, if I grew up in a house like yours I'd never want to leave. A pool, a hot tub, a theater, I'd be throwing parties all the damn time."
You snorted. "I bet that's what my parents are expecting me to do."
"Did someone say party?" Hongjoong asked, sliding in across from you with his sandwich in hand.
"I was just saying, mom and dad probably think I'm gonna throw tons of parties now that they're gone. Which is funny."
"Why?" Sumin asked.
"Cause I'm not going to, obviously."
"Okay, but your best friend sort of has a birthday in hmm, let me think, about a week, isn't it? And she maybe sort of really would love it to be a pool party in your heated, luxurious pool."
Hongjoong chuckled, a hand jumping up to cover his full mouth.
"You could just ask me like a normal person," you laughed, poking her in the ribs.
"Mm yes, and I am of course the epitome of highly normal-"
"Shut up, of course you can have a party at my house. I thought you wanted to go to that bar by the university, though."
"I want J to be able to come, she felt left out last year. I was thinking of just having it at our house but honestly with everything going on recently I think it would be a bit awkward."
"So your dad's visit went well?" you asked, grimacing.
"Um, it's still going."
"What?" you and Hongjoong asked in unison, utterly shocked.
"Yeah, I really can't stand being there right now. Like, if they want to get back together for real this time, maybe my dad could get his own apartment here in town and they could spend time together there? But no, of course not, he's way too much of a user for something as sensible as that."
The three of you sat in a deep silence, letting the energy settle.
"Sorry," she mumbled, picking at the sandwich on her plate.
"Hun, it's okay. I'm sorry he's there, that sounds fucking awful. You should come stay with me if it's that bad."
"You'd let me do that?" she asked.
"Sumin, a million times over. The guest room is empty or we can sleep in my parents giant bed or even the couch in the living room. Anything at all, if it would help."
"I think they'd get pissy if I actually started staying with you," she answered, biting her lip. "Mom and Dad, I mean. I don't want them getting weird with all the girls because I'm not there. But after the party I'll stay over for sure, that would be nice."
"Wait, isn't there a guy staying with you now though? In the guest room?" Hongjoong piped up.
"What?" you asked.
"The one who cleans the pool and stuff."
"Oh, Wooyoung, he's staying in the guest house."
"Damn, the whole thing to himself? Aren't your parents letting him stay for free?"
"Mom was feeling generous I guess, I think she feels really bad about leaving me. She wanted to make sure there was someone there to take care of the pool and the yard and everything. I could have done it myself, but you know her."
"That lucky, lucky boy," Hongjoong laughed, shaking his head.
"He seems kind of indifferent about it, honestly," you sighed.
"He still hasn't talked to you?"
"Barely."
"What about Yeonjun?"
"Nothing." You pulled up your phone, showing the text to both of them, left on delivered. "I'm being ghosted again."
"You should invite Wooyoung to the party," Sumin said, her eyes suddenly flashing with the excitement of a new idea.
"Really? But you've never met him before, you really want him at your birthday?"
"We've met him, I know not like, actually, but we said hi at that one party in the student village, remember? Like two years ago?"
"Yeah, I mean, we know he's at least not totally insane-"
"I just want people there, lots of people, please invite anyone who wants to come. I want a big party, I haven't had a big party since high school. I'm about to be twenty-five." She slumped forward, the heel of each palm shoved in her eyes.
"Just wait until you're twenty-seven," Hongjoong replied, forcing a smile.
"You both need to get over yourselves, you're not even close to old."
"You don't get to say that, you twenty-three year old baby," Sumin pouted, laughing as soon as the words tumbled out of her mouth.
You laughed too. "If it would make you feel better, we'll have a big party. I don't have that many friends but I'll invite a few. Joongie will probably be a better help on that front."
"I haven't seen my friends in fucking ages," he sighed, staring off.
"Seriously? When's the last time?"
"Before finals for sure, I can't remember exactly."
"How come?"
"I've had like no days off and I have the sleep schedule of a senior citizen these days," he deadpanned, blinking rapidly.
"Joong, if you need more days off it's no biggie. We've appreciated the extra help but we'd be fine without you, I promise." Sumin's head was tilted to the side, held up with her chin on fists.
"I need the money, our rent went up again."
"Again? What the fuck, your landlord is so damn greedy," you replied.
"I know, I don't know what I'm gonna do when it's time for clinicals. I won't have the time to work here anymore."
"Joong, stay with me," you said.
"You know I can't do that-"
"Why?"
"You know what my parents will say if they find out. And I know your mom would tell my mom in passing or something-"
"Then we don't tell her. My dad's contract was extended for another six months, and she told me she'll be out there at least until the start of summer. She hates flying, she doesn't want to be back and forth constantly. She doesn't have to know, it's fine." You emphasized the last word, imploring him to believe you.
"She'd find out somehow. A neighbor or something."
"I'd just tell her you've been visiting me and staying over a lot to keep me company. And no one's gonna do that, no one gives a shit like that in my neighborhood. They're chill, they wouldn't snoop and gossip to my mom or anything like that."
"You're sure?" he asked.
"Promise."
"Okay."
"Okay what?"
"I'll consider it."
"Hongjoong, you are crazy not to take her up on this," Sumin added beside you.
"I can't deal with the accusations from my dad, he'd have a fucking field day if he found out I was staying somewhere for free. At his sister's house no less."
"Well, thankfully they live on the east side of town."
"Far, far away," he sighed, nodding. "Fuck, it does sound nice to live with you. Yoongi has this new boyfriend who's been staying with us and he’s been driving me crazy."
"Wait so there's now five of you in that little place? Why isn't that making your rent cheaper?" you asked.
"Oh, the guy isn't paying anything."
"No, no, you come and stay at mine, that's ridicul-"
"Where is that cake you decorated this morning, the heart shaped one?" Isa cut you off, whipping around the door to the back kitchen area.
"Oh, top shelf of the fridge!" you called back, standing to make sure she found it.
"Oh it's beautiful," Seeun added as she joined you all, running to grab a giant order of bagels that were set aside this morning, now ready for pickup.
"Are things crazy up there right now?" Sumin asked them, standing too, just as Hongjoong did, all of you ready to jump in as needed.
"No, it's actually pretty chill today. You guys can head out early if you want. Oh, Hongjoong," Isa started, searching her pockets with her free hand to find the piece of paper she was looking for. "That guy who always comes in for cherry empanadas, he left his number for you."
"Ooh la la," you chuckled, peering over the table to read the note as the two girls headed back to the front to deliver the waiting customers their orders. "Oh my gosh, Seonghwa's that guy with long black hair, right?"
"Yeah," Hongjoong sighed, eyes stuck on the crumpled paper in his hand, his body frozen.
"Are you happy about this?" Sumin asked, sounding out the words slowly.
"I don't have time to date right now," he answered, suddenly shoving it in his back pocket. "I don't even have time for a little hookup."
"But you're moving in with her, right? And quitting working here because you're in nursing school and really should just be focusing on that?"
"Oh. Yeah. Right," he blinked. "I forgot we just talked about that. My mind is so fucked right now."
You scooted around the table to hug him, running a hand lovingly through his short hair. "Let's all go to mine, I've got tons of leftovers my mom left me. We can move you into the guest room tomorrow if you want."
"You two go, I'm gonna keep an eye on the girls for a few more minutes," Sumin answered, coming over to give you both hugs too.
"Okay, see you in a bit," you called, as you dragged Hongjoong to the back closet, and then out the back door.
Sunday, February 1st - 2:13pm
The house still felt eerily empty, but at least with Hongjoong and Sumin chattering away upstairs, your mind didn't have the chance to panic like it did last night. The kitchen still smelt of delicious curry, the homemade masterpiece you'd reheated for your second lunch. Days worked at the bakery were tough when it came to food; meal times got wonky, 4:30am an early time to rise, even for the early riser you were. It was a means to an end, and a fun job, you reminded yourself; one day you'd be the pastry chef at one of those insane, opulent restaurants in the upper east side of town, open four days a week, reservation only.
But until you graduated from culinary school, until you'd worked the hours required to finish your internship, it was early mornings at Twisted Treats with your best friend. Not so bad, as internships go; some of your classmates were far worse off than you if their stories were truthful. Your life had often seemed to turn out that way; luck was on your side, or something like it. Nice house, loving parents, a stable, mostly fun, not too stressful upbringing. You always had friends, several for life, like Sumin and Hongjoong, and got along just fine in school.
But growing up with two parents in love had made you so hopelessly unsure of one thing: boys. You wanted to find someone perfectly right, wanted the excitement of a first date, and eventually the calm joy of years spent together. You knew it was possible, that good men like your father existed, and could love and cherish their partner in all the right ways. It just never worked out for you; there was the nice boy from freshman year, who promised pleasure but lasted ten seconds. There was the less nice one a year later, who actually knew how to use his fingers, but his words could be vicious and all too quickly you had to dip. It just never seemed to be the case that a guy had all you wanted; the brains, the kindness, the face and the touch.
And then your mom hired Wooyoung. He caught your eye at that party when you met him, but he caught everyone's eye, of course; stunning nose, pouty lips, those dark eyes that seemed to say a million more things than his mouth ever did. He was sly and cunning and had a whip smart mind, you could tell right away; an observer, he spent most of that evening watching people from the wall, just as you did. You could have sworn his eyes caught on yours several times, that he was sneaking glances at you just as you were sneaking them at him, but the chance never arose to swap numbers or even really say hi, and then the night was over and life went back to what it had been.
When he walked in the front door that January day his hair was long, and in a wave of deja vu, your feeling of intrigue returned. He was so fucking pretty, damnit, and so polite with your mom, staring over your way whenever he could, his facial expression not changing. When she showed him to the guest house you sat out on the porch, wrapped in your coat and biggest scarf, staring through the small line of trees that separated your parent's property from the next. Your dad was already in California, and you realized for a moment this is how it would feel once your mom left; a huge house behind you, completely vacant, a new stranger staying a mere fifty feet away.
But your mom was still there, and around her he was especially quiet, doing his job diligently, only speaking in your presence when absolutely necessary. His glances were still there, but he was always looking over his shoulder too, as if expecting your mom to walk in at any minute and scold him for eyeing her precious daughter. You felt an awkwardness too when she was around, having never talked to her much about boys. You'd never had a real reason too; nothing had gone further than a few dates, nothing had seemed worth mentioning.
You hoped, in the back of your mind, that would change once she left. You worried about missing her, worried that you'd be a basket case and completely unable to handle yourself, but you also felt an excitement at what the freedom might allow. Your mom had been known to be intimidating, and you hoped that was the only reason Wooyoung was so hesitant with his words. There was a chance now to really get to know each other, and even if he technically worked for you (as your mom had reminded you for weeks now), you didn't want it to limit anything.
The back door swung open, and there he was, gloves on hands, his face sweaty, cheeks flushed. His hair was distractingly messy and his breaths were strong. "Oh, hey."
"Hi," you smiled, wiping the last of the mess from the marble counters.
"How's it going?" He pulled off the gloves, tossing them on the kitchen’s island, before grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, swiftly uncapping it.
"Good," you replied, feeling the awkwardness of the conversation, but also feeling the excitement. "How's the pool?"
"All good, all good," he answered, taking a swig, his adam's apple bobbing.
"You haven't managed to break anything yet?" you ventured, stepping towards the drawer with the trash can to throw away your paper towel.
You were now only feet from him, his white tee hanging off his chest in a way that caught your gaze completely.
"Is that what you're hoping?" he laughed, tipping the bottle up again, taking a long, deep swallow and staring at you as he did.
"Of course not," you laughed in response, one foot twisting nervously around the other. You moved your gaze back to his; you were determined to show him the confident side of you, the side that could flirt and joke just as well as he could.
"You're not looking for a chance to get me fired?" he asked, cocking a brow.
"Don't be stupid," you gasped, feigning shock with an open mouth. He stared at it a beat too long, his distraction obvious, before starting to chuckle.
"I should say the same to you." He finished the final sip of his bottle, sliding even closer to you to throw it in the trash.
"What, you don't like my joking?" you asked, eyes wide and innocent, loving the little game.
"I love it," he sighed, clasping hands behind his back as he readjusted his feet. "Just don't know if you know what you're in for."
"Oh, I think I know." You maintained your eye contact, smiling ever so slightly at the look of intrigue that passed through his eyes.
"So you're not just some little princess?"
"Is that what you think of me?"
"You've got your own castle, all to yourself," he smirked, looking around the place.
"If that makes me a princess, then..."
"You are." He smiled with closed lips, his cheekbones high.
"I don't know about that."
"You are, you totally are." He started chuckling, almost like he couldn't help it, his head turning slightly to the side.
"I'm just a girl," you answered, trying to look stern, hold the frustration of what felt like lost ground. But you kind of liked it, you had to admit.
"And I'm just a guy," he shrugged, turning back to you straight on. "Who works for you."
"Oh please, don't let it be like that."
"Like what?"
"You don't work for me, you work for my parents, and I'm just here, just happen to be here."
"Hmm, I see," he replied, holding back a laugh.
"Fuck off," you huffed, closer to genuine shock this time, not sure what to make of the implication. You didn't even realize your hand was moving until it hit his solid torso; a playful punch, nothing really, but the brush of contact was electric.
He leaned in further. "I'm your pool boy, your poor, lowly pool boy," he uttered, deep and sultry, an obvious attempt to rattle you.
And it worked. "You're insane," you laughed, unable to keep the pink from sprouting in your cheeks.
"You like when I call myself that," he chuckled, biting his lip.
"What are you talking about-"
"You know what, princess," he laughed, leaning in, the invitation obvious. You weren't sure what about the nickname did it for you; maybe it was just because it came from his lips, but it sounded right, so perfect, not at all as embarrassing or infuriating in the way you thought it would. It was all too easy to fall into the kiss; how inviting his lips were, the little freckle pulling you in. His hand came around your head and you felt the slightest tug, your bodies coming flush, your hand finding his abdomen again.
But just as it was starting to really go there, his tongue brushing your bottom lip, you heard the unmistakable sound of feet tumbling down the stairs.
You pulled apart suddenly, his eyes widening slightly as he stared towards the hall, not sure as you were where the noise was coming from.
"So you're not alone," he said, a hand on the counter, his face unreadable.
"Sorry, some of my friends-"
"You know my gay ass would hate th-" Hongjoong stopped as soon as he spotted Wooyoung, pulling up short as he hit the ground floor. "Hi, sorry, I didn't think you'd be down here."
"This is my cousin Hongjoong, he'll be staying here for a while," you explained, smiling to try and assuage the obvious awkwardness everyone felt.
Wooyoung turned. "Nice to meet you man," he said, stepping towards him to give a friendly shake.
"And this is my best friend Sumin."
"Nice to meet you too." He shook her hand as well, nodding slightly as he did so.
"Did you tell him about the party?" she asked.
It all suddenly felt like a bad idea, something about his sudden change of demeanor concerning you. "No, do you really think-"
"Yes, come on, it'll be fun!" she pleaded. "And I really need the distraction right now," she added from the corner of her mouth, making you laugh despite your worries.
You sighed, trying to brush the concern from your mind. "Okay, well, Wooyoung, you are invited to the birthday party I am throwing here for Sumin this coming Friday. We'll be ordering pizza and hanging out in the pool and hot tub and probably drinking, I don't know...?" You were usually the one mixing, enjoying the use of the bartending set your mom bought for your dad two Christmases ago.
"Martinis!" Hongjoong called.
"With what gin?" you asked, staring into the very empty liquor cabinet behind you.
"With the gin I will steal from that annoying guy who is suddenly living in my apartment rent free," he replied with a cheeky smile. You laughed and shook your head at him. "We've got a week, we can get what we need."
"We're all kind of busy. Plus, is that what the birthday girl wants?"
"Martinis sound good and fun to me. You know I love olives," Sumin answered.
"Alright, martinis it is," you relented, turning back to Wooyoung with a smile. He'd stepped away but not far, still only feet from you, his gaze strong. "If you'd like to come, you're more than welcome."
"Friday night you said?" he asked.
"My sister is making me a giant red velvet cake!" Sumin blurted, her eyes lighting up. "And you can bring as many friends as you want, the more the merrier. They're both bringing people, it'll be a big bash."
"I'll invite some guys from the swim team, I'm sure they'd like to come," Wooyoung nodded to her. "If you're sure it won't be too many people," he added in your direction.
"Of course not. You're for sure coming?" you asked, eyebrows raised.
"Sounds fun," he shrugged, eyeing you sharply with a smirk. "I like a pool party." His eyes grazed up and down your body, then landed on your eyes again.
Your skin sizzled. "Alright, well, we better start making some plans." You smirked back at him, holding his gaze until you couldn't any longer.
"Well, food's already taken care of," Sumin replied. "It'll just be the drinks and whatever else we'll need, probably should get solo cups, right? Your parents wouldn't want us using all their nice glasses. Unless we're getting beer, do your friends like beer Wooyoung? I know most of Hongjoong's don't so we usually don't..."
As she prattled on you could barely follow. Your mind was stuck on one thing, and one thing only: you couldn't be happier that you bought that blue bikini on sale two months ago. At the time it seemed frivolous, a pointless purchase made on a boring day, something to be shoved in a closet and never seen again. But now, as you stared at Wooyoung, as he pulled his gloves back on and stared back, you couldn't wait for the look in his eye when he finally saw you in it. Your heart raced with all the potential; this was finally happening, and you hoped and prayed it wouldn't be another let down.
Saturday, February 7th - 5:53pm
"Is it weird having a birthday so close to Valentine's Day?" you asked as you curled a thin strand of Sumin's hair, soft in your hands.
"I guess so," she answered. In the guest room next door you could both hear Hongjoong scrambling through piles of clothes to try to find something to wear; he'd been too busy to fully unpack yet, boxes and a few random trash bags still littering the floor.
"I always thought it would be weird." You let the strand go, and it bounced as it joined the others. The whole day you'd been in silent preparation mode, decorating and picking out outfits, the three of you thoroughly exhausted by the early afternoon. Now you all were attempting to rally, to find that needed energy for the party tonight. It was set to start early, 6:30pm, as most of you worked at the bakery and rarely stayed up past nine. But you and Sumin had the next day off, so there was no telling how late things might go.
"Has anyone ever tried to weasel their way back into your life with a happy birthday text?" she asked you suddenly.
"No. Wait, who?"
"Mingi," she answered.
"Oh wow, what did he say?"
She turned her phone to you, and you squinted to read it. Happy Birthday Minnie, I hope you treat yourself today.
"Were you not expecting it?" you asked, hardly feeling shocked by the message. It was about as unremarkable as a birthday text could be.
"No, cause I know him, and I know he's only sending it to piss me off or force me to talk to him again. If he felt neutrally towards me he wouldn't say anything."
"Well how can you expect him to feel neutral after you broke up with him?"
"Okay, whose side are you on?" she whined, whipping around as you set down the curling iron, turning it off.
"Hun, you know I'm on your side. And you know how I feel about him," you replied, taking her hand in yours, squeezing. "I'm sorry that text upset you so much. You should just delete it, forget about it."
She turned away, her eyes finding the floor. "I don't get why everyone liked him so much, he's just a guy."
"He just seemed nice, and treated you really kindly. That's all," you answered her. "But it's not anyone's choice but yours what you do with your life. If he's not the right guy for you then he's not the right guy. Simple as that."
"It's never simple as that," she sighed, looking up. "Love is always a clusterfuck."
"No it's not-"
"Except for your parents," she cut you off, smiling in frustration.
"It really sometimes is calm and easy," you continued, moving behind her again to brush out the curls. "I swear."
"So how's the Wooyoung thing coming along?"
"Throwing it back in my face, wow," you laughed, shaking your head. A little flicker of anger flashed over Sumin's eyes, and you knew then you'd pushed it earlier; she was still cut up about Mingi, even if three months had passed, and you really shouldn't have tried your luck in singing his praises. She was right, too, that your own desire for a relationship was far from fulfilled, and she deserved all the gossip, no matter how frustrating. "Nothing's happened since that kiss, it's like you guys walking down scared him so badly he's avoiding me or something."
"Calm and easy, hmm," she answered, staring at the ground again.
"Maybe he's just busy, or stressed with school," you reasoned. "I've barely seen him at all this past week."
"When you do see him, does he still barely talk?"
"He says more than he used to, but not like that day. He still stares like he's going to devour me," you chuckled, trying not to feel the worst of your disappointment. "Maybe he looks at everyone like that and I've just never noticed?" Your face scrunched up in a look of defeat, and Sumin, spotting it in the mirror, shook her head.
"No, no, he does not look at everyone that way. You know that. You know what you're seeing," she said. You turned from her hair to set down the brush, satisfied with the beachy waves you'd achieved, framing her face perfectly. She turned in the chair, eyeing you directly. "I'm sorry I just got weird with you."
Your head popped up, brows furrowed in confusion. "You're fine, what do you mean?"
"I'm all sensitive about Mingi talk still," she sighed.
"I know, I'm sorry I said what I said. It's not my place."
"No, it is," she answered. "I get it, he was nice. He was too nice. It freaked me out and I didn't trust it and I didn't know what the hell to do. So I broke up with him at his best friend's birthday party. I'm cruel."
"You are not cruel," you replied, leaning down to hug her. "You didn't want to be with him anymore. It's good to tell someone that as soon as you feel it. Not drag it out."
"Hmm," was all she replied with and you pulled back, hands on her shoulders. She couldn't meet your eyes, her face painted with discomfort. There was something more she wasn't telling you, but just as you went to ask her what it was, Hongjoong appeared in the doorway.
"How do I look?" he asked, spinning to show you his floral swimming trunks, paired for now with a loose blue button up that he left wide open, his chest and abs on full display.
"Like any man's wet dream," you replied, singsong. Sumin turned and laughed, nodding in approval.
"The room is a fucking mess, sorry," he said as he entered, coming to sit on your bed to watch the two of you finish your preparations.
"It's fine, not like anyone will need to be up there anyway." You shifted over to the mirror, checking that your hair was still as fluffy as you'd made it this morning. You peered at your outfit again; the blue bikini top sat tight on your chest, your boobs out in all their glory, and over the bottoms sat little jean shorts, the hems cut-off. You hadn't yet had a chance to tell Hongjoong what happened, his week horrendously busy with moving and classes, and with the news Sumin had just shared with you, there was determination in your chest to forget your woes and just have a good night with them both.
You pulled back with a final flick of your hair.
"You look so good," Sumin said, staring.
"So do you girl," you replied, her outfit nearly identical to yours, only with slightly longer shorts and a pink bikini top.
"Isn't it crazy we can dress like this in winter?" Hongjoong chuckled from behind, staring down at his bare legs and abdomen.
"Ah, the desert. Gotta love it," you laughed, taking mascara from the top drawer of your desk and quickly applying it.
"Not in July," Sumin replied.
"Let's not think about that right now," you laughed, finishing your application with a few blinks. "Isn't it almost time?"
"I think so," Hongjoong answered, realizing he left his phone in the other room. He stood quickly, about to leave, when he saw the look on both of your faces. "Are you guys okay?"
"Yeah, just, stuff," you sighed, smiling at him in the mirror.
"Girl stuff," Sumin added, rolling her eyes.
"You can tell me about girl stuff, did something hap-"
The front door bell rang, loud through every speaker in the house, and you all jumped.
"I guess it's time," you smiled, laughing at the frazzled look on your face in the mirror. "You ready?"
"I suppose," Sumin said, forcing herself to stand and take your arm, Hongjoong taking the other.
"We'll tell you tomorrow," you told him, nudging your head against his shoulder. "Let's just have fun tonight."
Saturday, February 7th - 7:45pm
He was standing across the room from you again, beer in hand, chatting to his friend.
That was the one introduced as San, with wide shoulders and a sharp jaw, his demeanor tough and stoic. It quickly became apparent that they were best friends, or at least the closest of everyone, and you pondered it as you hung back and watched on.
The pizza and cake had already been devoured, but not everyone set to come had shown up. All of Sumin's sisters had, and the gaggle of Hongjoongs friends. Momo and Sana you knew, the rest you didn't; it was hard to keep all the names straight when he introduced them in such quick succession.
Your two friends from culinary school, Suzuka and Mizyu, had taken over drinks duty from you as soon as they noticed all the available ingredients, and the other two you'd invited texted last minute cancellations, citing early morning shifts at the respective bakeries they worked for.
The rest of Wooyoung's friends were the rowdiest, the only ones yet to brave the pool, playing games involving drinks and swimming and holding breath that you couldn't understand even if you tried. There was Jongho, San's younger brother, who J eyed with obvious attraction. There was Yunho, the tall one, and Changbin, Felix, Yeosang, and Han. You were fairly sure you remembered the names correctly, but if you turned out to be wrong, you wouldn't be surprised.
You'd never seen so many people in the house, not since maybe a birthday decades ago that you hardly remembered. And apparently, according to Wooyoung, two of his friends were running late, still on their way. You'd been excited for the party, thinking it would present the perfect situation for flirtation; unfortunately the same thing happened last time, the two of you wall bound, just staring. A week had passed and it was starting to feel like the kiss hadn't even happened.
"I wanna go to the hot tub," Sumin called to you, stepping away from the little circle of her sisters, all chattering away.
"Ooh, hot tub," Mizyu sang, finishing another drink, running it over to Isa.
The room was teeming with balloons and streamers, some of which had already been snagged and lay crumpled on the floor. Outside, string lights hung across every available surface, twinkling in the darkness. The sounds from the pool games were a comforting sort of cacophony, and getting to witness the fun from the comfort of the hot tub sounded mildly pleasant. It was at least something; indoors you felt utterly underwhelmed, despite everything.
"Let's go then," you smiled, taking her arm in yours, walking to the back door. There were of course other things that could turn the night from borderline boring to completely enthralling, but you weren't sure they would happen after all. Wooyoung and San were standing just to the left of the back door, and as you passed you eyed him, frustration written all over your face.
"You guys going to the hot tub?" he asked, cutting San off, who turned abruptly and watched the interaction with interest.
"This is a pool party," you replied, giving him a sidelong glance as the two of you tumbled outside.
"The hot tub's not a pool," you heard in response, his tone high and joking, and you fought the urge to turn around and roll your eyes at him.
"Wow, you guys are bickering now," Sumin laughed, pulling two towels from the chest outside.
"Shut up," you laughed back, smacking her with yours.
"It's cute!"
"It's immature, we're not 15," you chuckled.
"Don't be like that, just enjoy it. He's probably nervous as hell to actually make a move."
The two of you pulled off your shorts, setting them on the pool chair nearest the tub, and stepped in.
"I'm trying," you replied after a second, shuddering as the warmth of the water swept through your body. "But I'm getting frustrated."
"Ahh that feels good," Sumin sighed, sitting down beside you. "Listen, you make the first move if he's being so cagey. You already know he likes you."
"I know I should, I just need a good opportunity-"
"There you guys are!" Hongjoong called from the back door, prancing over with his drink in hand, ripping off his shirt. "It's so time for a soak."
He sat down beside you, but Sumin nudged him out of the way, wanting to maintain a space next to you in case bravery suddenly struck Wooyoung.
"I see how it is," Hongjoong joked, but moved comfortably, his friend Sana joining you all.
Finally Wooyoung poked his head out the door, catching your eye with the look of a question, which you answered with your eyes. You were attempting to make up for the somewhat harsh look you'd just given him moments ago; you softened your gaze, imploring him to move already.
He seemed to get the message. He turned San and started pushing him outside as he made some grand point, bickering with Woo for pushing him, but once the tub came into view he dropped his act and went rather silent. The other three in the tub had fallen into light chatter, and you watched as he and Wooyoung both stripped off their shirts, setting them right where Hongjoong had set his.
Woo stepped into the tub slowly, setting himself down beside you, leaving just a foot or so of space. It was close enough to make your heart race a bit; close enough to mean more than nothing. His lean arms and chest glowed in the colored lights, and his nose curved distractingly, catching your gaze.
"I hope my friends aren't being too crazy," he said, glancing over to the pool with the slightest furrow in his brow.
"Oh no, they're fine." You pulled your gaze away, forcing yourself to look too. The tall one, Yunho, and San's younger brother, Jongho, seemed to be racing.
"They're insane," San added.
"I kind of like it," you chuckled, smiling at them both.
"That's good news," Wooyoung chuckled back, slowly looking more relaxed, reaching an arm behind you, resting it on the ledge.
"Aren't more of them still coming?"
"Yeah, they said they'd be here now. Must be taking their sweet ass time."
"As always," San laughed, his eyes clearly catching on Sana, who smiled back with the sweetest blush.
"You know her name is almost the same as yours," Hongjoong piped up, noticing the quick moment.
"I do," San laughed, the rest of you chuckling too, Sana looking embarrassed.
"I just think that's pretty funny," Joong continued.
"What a sophisticated sense of humor you have, Joongie," you teased, Sumin smiling in full on laughter, the tub feeling warmer by the minute.
"I gotta make fun of her somehow, she's literally perfect," Hongjoong pouted, turning to Sana and poking her.
"That she is," San added, and you and Sumin fell into each other, giggling with hands covering your mouths.
"Damn, San, you got game," Hongjoong nodded approvingly.
"Do you want another drink?" San asked in Sana's direction, ignoring the comment.
"Another martini would be nice," she smiled, moving subtly in his direction.
"Coming right up," he nodded, stepping out. You could see her eyes tracing the lines of his abdomen.
"San, bring me another beer!" Yunho called from the pool, downing the last of his current one.
"Me too!" Jongho added.
"Get your own damn drinks!" San yelled back, disappearing inside.
"Do you want anything more?" Wooyoung asked once the laughter died down.
"No, honestly. Thanks for asking though."
"Neither do I," he smiled, scooting the littlest bit closer.
"You don't have to say that just cause I did," you laughed.
"I don't want to get sloshed tonight, I should really take it easy," he laughed. "Even if it sounds fun."
"I think they're getting sloshed enough for the rest of us." You nodded towards the pool.
"Definitely," he laughed.
The two of you were silent for a moment. His gaze fell to yours, your body curling into him, ever so slightly, and you bit the inside of your bottom lip.
"You having a good time?" he asked.
"Maybe."
"Maybe?" He smiled, shaking his head. "What's not up to your standard?"
"Nothing," you sighed.
"Tell me."
"I said it was nothing-"
"Tell me." You liked how it came out as almost a demand.
"You've barely talked to me."
"I'm talking to you now," he chuckled, his gaze stronger, so piercing it felt like he could see your soul.
"Yeah, but you didn't for like, an hour and a half."
"You were keeping track?"
You playfully punched at him again, sending splashes of water rocking through the tub.
"Woah, if it's gonna be like that go get in the pool," Sumin playfully scolded.
"Might as well," you sighed, pushing out of the tub with one hand on Wooyoung's shoulder. Things had chilled out a little at the pool, a few of the boys inside getting another round of drinks, so it seemed like the perfect time.
Just as you began to walk down the steps, shivering with the change of temperature, you heard a voice call out.
"Woo, we're here!"
You thought you recognized it, and whipping around, you realized you did. It was Seonghwa, the regular at the bakery, clad in the most casual clothes you'd ever seen him in.
"Finally," Woo answered him, walking over to greet him. Your eyes shot right to Hongjoong, still in the tub, doing an expert job of not appearing shocked. But you'd known him his whole life and could tell, just from that little flicker in his eyebrow, that he was practically shitting himself.
'You invited him?' you mouthed when he caught your eye. Joong shook his head furiously for a moment, before Seonghwa spotted him and everyone went a bit silent.
Until the next man tumbled out the back door.
"Mingi, show Wooyoung what you got-"
Mingi cut off his friend's words with a hand to the chest. He had spotted Sumin, there in the hot tub below him, and his face was pure shock he wasn’t even trying to hide.
"Oh, fuck no," you heard her mutter, jumping out of the tub and grabbing her towel, darting past him inside.
"Minnie, wait," you heard him say as he slunk in after her. Eyes were wide around, looks of confusion on everyone's faces. Wooyoung slowly made his way over to you.
"They used to date," you said, answering the question clearly in his eyes.
"I didn't realize she was his Sumin," he said, shaking his head.
"He told you about her?" you asked, settling on the top step of the pool.
"Of course." He sat down next to you. "He's crazy about her."
"I wonder if I should go after her."
"Let them figure it out," he said.
"She was already stressing this morning, I'm just worried-" you cut yourself off with a harsh breath.
"I think she'll be okay."
"But what if they have a fight, what if, I don't know, something happens?"
"Like what?"
"I don't know." You pouted at him, then looked down at the twinkling water, sighing.
"I think you need to stop worrying so much." You shot him a glare. "Or not, my bad."
But he was right and you knew he was. You could feel yourself spiraling, ever since your mother left, the unknowns of this new chapter of your life striking worry through you at every turn.
"She'll be fine," you sighed, coming back to yourself.
"How can I make it up to you?"
"What?"
"I've upset you, what can I do to make this pretty face happy again?" He brought a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, half wet from the tub.
"Let's have some fun," you smiled, before splashing water at him, diving away as quickly as you could to try and avoid his retaliation.
It was so much better to be fighting in the pool than thinking so much, his friends joining in on your side and splashing relentlessly. There were screams and laughs, attempts to knock you off balance; he was successful with many of these, being a far stronger swimmer than you were. Grappling under the water, you felt the electric fire that you wanted. All muscle and hands and veins popping out, the warmth of the pool doing wonders. Finally he relented, and breaths ragged, you both chilled out on the steps again.
"I like your tattoo," you said, raking your fingers along his inner forearm.
"Yeah?" His body was buzzing with energy, you were almost sure he would kiss you again, right there in front of everyone, with how pent up he felt. Faces close, dripping with sweat and anticipation, his mouth was wide open, eyes taking you in. But he just spoke again. "Do you have any?"
"One, somewhere I can't show you out here," you chuckled, seeing his pupils dilate in front of your very eyes.
"Where?" he whispered.
"My hip," you whispered back. You pointed to the spot, right below the hem of your bikini bottoms, and his finger moved over yours, pulling it down slightly.
"Wooyoung," you gasped, shoving his hand away. You could hear titters behind you, looking back to see Hongjoong, Seonghwa, San and Sana lounging comfortably in the hot tub still, happy as can be.
If only Sumin and Mingi could make up, and Wooyoung could finally make the move you were hoping for, it might be a perfect night.
You stared longingly at him, almost awe struck, before his friends tumbled back outside again. So too did a bunch of the girls; it seemed everyone had started drinking games inside, and were bringing them out to the pool. Suddenly it was full, every person still present at the party jumping in.
“Everyone pair up, we’re gonna play chicken!” one of the boys called, giggles following in a giant chorus. You could see J and Jongho already standing together, and everyone else was teasing and jostling for who they’d go with.
“Everyone wants Yunho cause he’s tall,” Wooyoung chuckled to you, watching multiple of Sumin’s sisters beg for his partnership.
“This is gonna be such a disaster,” you laughed, shaking your head.
It all started normally enough, the losing pair each round having to chug a beer between them. Most of the boys took it upon themselves to take one for their team, but Isa wouldn’t let Yeosang take a singular sip; she had a weird thing about beer and chugging.
But soon enough it devolved into mostly just laughing and drunk chaos, and you really weren’t feeling it anymore. Maybe it was because your normal bed time had passed and you just felt tired, but you couldn’t stand the noise. You walked back to the tub to soak again, at least getting a little distance from it all, but Wooyoung didn’t follow.
“How are things?” Hongjoong asked as soon as you were in earshot, making space beside himself for you. You could already see he and Seonghwa were far more comfortable than before; little touches, body language that was calm, serene.
“Good,” you smiled as you sunk in, smiling at Sana across the way.
“What exactly are they doing over there?” Seonghwa asked.
“I don’t know, they were playing chicken, but I’m not even sure anymore.”
You all watched as Wooyoung dove in after Jongho, the two tussling under water amidst the huge crowd that still stood in the shallow end of the pool.
“They’re crazy,” Seonghwa said, San laughing, and it seemed like some kind of inside joke.
“Does that include Wooyoung?” you asked, trying not to sound too desperate for more information about him.
San laughed. “Definitely. But not like the others.”
You watched as Yunho downed another beer, and blinked with surprise, wondering how many that was now.
“If they get too rowdy we can take them back to campus,” Seonghwa said, and San nodded.
“Oh, no, they’re fine.” You tried to feel that way; why was it irking you so much that Wooyoung was over there with the drunk group? “Have you guys seen Sumin and Mingi at all?”
“No,” was the response from everyone, heads shaking.
“Weird,” you sighed, the tub falling quiet, almost uncomfortably so. You weren’t sure why this little nagging feeling of concern had come back so suddenly when just minutes ago you were certain of the evening’s near perfection.
“I’m gonna head in,” you suddenly decided. With one more look at the pool you spotted Woo talking with Seiun, and it was enough to send your legs padding along. You didn’t even bother drying yourself, just wrapped your towel around your back and headed in.
It was dead quiet, but the kitchen looked tornado stricken; most of the streamers were down now, deflated balloons dotting the floor, and along every counter were dirty plates and cups and empty beer bottles. You swept a few into the garbage before stopping yourself; this was not the point of tonight, cleaning was supposed to happen tomorrow. But that anxiety nipped at your heels and forced you to do something to assuage it; finally you decided you needed to find your best friend.
She didn’t answer a text right away, but you’d sort of figured that would happen. She might not even be here anymore; there was no telling where her and Mingi had gone off to. If she stayed you were pretty sure she would have come out hours ago, and you knew Mingi had a single dorm all to himself, a place she spent many nights those months ago.
You wandered. Your parent’s master bedroom was down the hallway on the bottom floor, along with the small guest bathroom and a storage closet. You peered into all three; no Sumin or Mingi in sight. You walked upstairs; your room was empty, and so was the guest room. You saw the mess Hongjoong had mentioned and chuckled to yourself, finding his total lack of organizational skills endearing as always.
There was only one more place to check. The small theater was in the basement, a room originally designed as a cellar and extra storage space. Your grandparents had helped your parents install the screen and couches that filled the space now when you were just a kid, and you had always thought what a fun hide out it would be if you actually had a boyfriend.
The stairs were carpeted, perfect for your covert operation, and you didn’t even need to hit the basement floor to know they were there.
It wasn’t anything dirty; just the bright sound of Sumin’s laugh, punctuated by a low voice, lilting as it almost certainly teased her. You headed upstairs immediately; it felt too intimate, almost worse than hearing them fuck, but at least you knew she was safe and sound in the house, and sounded happy.
And her happiness would be enough for you. Things just felt weird with Wooyoung, you couldn’t put your finger on it, but maybe they weren’t meant to be as you wished they were. That was how it always went with boys, didn’t it; they were cute, or sweet, or utterly gorgeous, yet they hardly ever could be what you needed them to be. He seemed more interested in his friends, in his life, than you. Or he seemed scared to start something; you really couldn’t tell what it was, but there was some stumbling block, something you were tripping up against.
You took yourself upstairs to your room, deciding it was time to wash the chlorine from your hair and maybe lay down for the night. You were tired, and you knew that exhaustion always clouded your thoughts in unhelpful ways.
You entered your bathroom, staring at your face in the mirror, water-proof mascara still mostly in place. There was something in your eyes that you hadn’t seen before, and a wave of frustration hit you; a meltdown was coming, you were doing just what you thought you would. Coming apart at the seams, you could see it in your eyes, your mother’s absence driving it all. How could you have thought you could do it, that you were mature enough for this next step of independence?
You threw the towel on the floor, tired of thinking, tired of the confusing machinations of your brain. Just as you began to untie your bikini bottoms, there was a knock at your bathroom door.
“Fuck, you scared me,” you jumped, a hand clutching at your chest. Wooyoung stood in the doorway, a towel of his own around his back, wet hair clinging to his face.
“Sorry,” he chuckled, entering the room, resting a hip against the counter.
“Did the games end?”
“No,” he answered.
“They’re all still going?” There was judgement in your tone that you couldn’t hide and a look on your face that mirrored it.
“Did you not have a good time tonight?” he asked.
“No, it was fine.”
He took in a sharp breath. “Why would you have a party here if you don’t like parties?”
“I do like parties, you’ve seen me at one before,” you shot back, eyebrows low.
“I’m not accusing you of anything.”
“Sorry,” you sighed, wrapping your arms around yourself.
“What did I do?” he asked.
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve upset you, what did I do?” His tone was soft and his eyes were too, something you hadn’t seen from him yet.
“I just- it’s nothing, I’m being insane.”
“And I made you feel that way, didn’t I?”
“Maybe,” you relented, taking a deep breath. Your heart rate was skyrocketing; you weren’t prepared in the slightest for this conversation.
“Why?”
“Cause it feels like you’re avoiding me.” The words tumbled out in a rush.
“I’ve been busy this week-”
“Not just this week, I mean here at the party. You barely talked to me until we got in the hot tub. Then when your friends are playing crazy drinking games you’d rather hang with them than with me.”
He stood still a moment, just staring. “You really hate drunk people, don’t you.”
“I guess I do,” you chuckled, his tone breaking the ice enough for your tension to begin to dissolve.
“If you want my attention, you just have to ask for it baby.”
“Well maybe I don’t want to ask.”
“Well how else am I supposed to know?” He was smirking, leaning forward.
“What do you mean, you kissed me, of course I want your attention!” you laughed, mouth agape.
“I wasn’t sure if you did, you jumped away from me so fast when your friends came down the stairs-”
“You jumped away from me!” you broke in.
“And today-” he continued, stepping closer, “when everyone started arriving, you barely even looked at me. You were just with the girls, making drinks. You hardly seemed interested when I introduced my friends.”
You sighed. “Sorry, I didn’t realize I was being like that. There’s just never been so many people here, and I guess I don’t really like hosting.” The realization washed over you in a rush.
“Then don’t ever do it again,” he smiled, stepping closer again, reaching his arms around you.
“Okay,” you smiled, melting into him, the kiss tender for a moment, but quickly deep, tongues and teeth, your hands pulling at each other.
“Of course I want to hang with you,” he chuckled, nipping at your neck, making your breath hitch.
“If you say so,” you joked, pulling back from him, resting against the counter too.
“What were you doing up here?”
“I was just gonna shower, I hate when chlorine’s in my hair too long,” you answered, playing with the strings of your bikini as you stared into his eyes.
His gaze sharpened, eyes narrowing a little at the corners. He didn’t say a thing, but his lips tensed just the smallest amount, making you curious.
“What?” you asked.
“I think you know what.” You thought you did too; you’d put the invitation out there, and were pretty sure it was fairly obvious, but were just waiting for him to take it.
“Just say it.”
He stared, taking another breath. “Can I join you?”
“In the shower you mean?” You were seconds from laughing, giddy with his admittance of interest.
And instead of answering he just put his lips on yours again, pulling you in through the shower door, closing it. He turned on the water, breaking the kiss a moment; it was cold for a second, making you squeal and jump, knocking into him. Once it turned to its comfortable warmth you were kissing again, his long hair trapped in your fingers, his own hands trailing down to untie your bottoms, hastily messing with the knots.
Once the spell of nervousness was broken it all happened so fast. Your bikini fell to the floor, and so too did his trunks, kicked to the back corner. You’d ripped off your top without even bothering to untie it; his hands were all over you, teasing every possible sensitive place, your nipples pebbling under his brief touches. His lips moved to your neck and your head tipped back, warm water flooding over you, intoxicating you with its punishing heat. His breaths were strong and ragged in your ear, his cock hard against your leg, twitching.
You reached down for it, making a satisfying whine rip from the depths of his throat. It was an exhilarating moment of power, but one he ended quickly; reaching down to your core, he found you soaking and silky, running two fingers along your slit and making your whole spine go fuzzy with pleasure.
“Fuck,” you breathed, body almost going limp against the wall behind you. He bit his lip and almost smiled, you could see through your hooded eyes, but kept his motions steady and certain, his fingers finding their place at your clit and rubbing slow, steady circles around it. His lips found your neck again, then your mouth, his tongue sending waves of pleasure through you all the way to his hand. It was pure fire you felt, completely enthralled; never had a simple touch felt so good, left you so devilishly high.
The orgasm came with a speed you didn’t expect; searing and electric, it trickled through the nerves of your fingers, toes, everywhere. Once you came down your hands were all over him, pulling him in, almost crashing into the shower head. He reached a hand out to hold you both steady, laughing as he bit down on your neck, nearly losing himself. Something about the steam of the room was clouding everything, in a perfect haze that promised no thinking, only touch. He needed you more than words could explain, and he couldn’t wait another second.
He turned you around, hands against the wall, and lined himself up. Bending over you, he kissed up your back, your shoulders, your neck and your ear, as he slid in slowly, bottoming out with a satisfied groan. You were already noisy, unable to help it; he fit like a glove, so utterly perfect, and his thrusts had the perfect level of force that left nothing more to possibly be desired.
It lasted longer than you could account for, really; so slow, sensual, pulling at the very essence of your being. Every worry and confusion quelled, every question answered. He reached down between your legs, your body flush and close, rubbing your clit as he fucked you, your body reacting in need. The orgasms were one after the other, each stronger than the last, your legs spent and shaking by the end, hardly holding you up. His groans became stronger, and you pulled his head to your neck again, trying to stifle them, but it hardly mattered with the water raging above you.
He finished with a few strong, fast thrusts, your cunt fluttering around him, so spent. He held you up, turning you, kissing you strongly again as you rested against the wall. You pulled back and dropped your head against his chest, holding on as you grounded yourself, and suddenly felt his hands moving through your hair, shampooing it. You nearly collapsed again from the way your heart squeezed; his fingers on your scalp completely tantalizing, you breathed softly, letting him rinse it out too. He then squeezed some on his own head, cleaning his hair in haste, moving you out of the way to rinse it so it wouldn’t get in your eyes.
That night, curled under the sheets of your bed, it happened again. Touches, kisses led to so much more, and soon you found yourself under him, legs wrapped around his hips, his hair brushing over your face as he buried himself in you again.
Saturday, February 14th - 12:21pm
“Wait, so you were happy to see him?” you asked Sumin.
It was nearing the end of your shift, Valentine’s always a busy, crazy day at the bakery, and you finally had the chance to sit down. Hongjoong had come just for the day to help out, even though Sumin had tried to fight it, but in the end you all were thankful. The extra pair of hands had really come in handy, and the whirlwind had left you all a little delirious.
“Well, yeah, honestly,” she answered, sliding into the bench beside you. Hongjoong sat across, downing a cup of coffee and a quesadilla, listening with rapt interest.
“They why did you run inside when he came?”
“Cause I didn’t want him to be all mushy and shit in front of everyone.”
“But you did want it.”
“Yeah, that text pissed me off. It was nothing.”
You laughed. “It was.”
“Like truly don’t text me anything if that’s how it’s gonna be,” she answered, laughing. “You know? I knew he wanted to say more but he just didn’t.”
“You guys back together now?” Joong asked.
“Yeah, we are,” Sumin smiled.
“And you and Seonghwa?” you asked him.
“We’re hooking up,” he smiled.
“Men,” you laughed, shaking your head.
“What about you and Wooyoung?”
“We just started dating, we’re not officially together yet,” you answered him, sticking out your tongue.
“Wow, having sex before you’re officially together, how could you,” he teased.
“I’m gonna slap you,” you answered.
“Hey guys,” Seiun stumbled in from the front, whipping around the door. “Three guys are here to see you. Can I let them back?”
“How the fuck do they know we’re all here?” you laughed.
“I told Seonghwa.”
“Joong! So you’re hooking up and texting each other constant updates?”
“He just asked this morning, I don’t know,” he shrugged.
“Let them back, it’s fine,” Sumin answered, her opinion the only one that really mattered. It was rare for non-employees to be let back here, but she was certainly allowed to break that rule when she wanted.
The three shuffled back in almost embarrassing silence, so tense and awkward, and you couldn't help laughing at them, Sumin and Hongjoong breaking into giggles too.
“What the hell is this?” Hongjoong laughed.
“Just give us a second,” Mingi answered, one hand coming up, the other seemingly stuck behind his back. You realized the other two had their hands clasped the same way, and you gave Woo a questioning look. His hair was soft and fluffy, and the puffy jacket and loose jeans he wore were the picture of coziness. You really just wanted to get up and hug him, but as you stood Mingi interrupted.
“Wait, stay seated,” he said. “Ok guys, ready?”
The other two looked at him sideways and nodded.
“One, two, three,” he continued.
“Happy Valentine's Day!” they all cried, whipping huge flowery bouquets from behind their backs, each finally approaching.
“Oh my god,” you laughed as Wooyoung handed you yours, bright white and purple flowers filling it, the smell sweet and beautiful. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” he chuckled, leaning down to place a peck on your lips. “I know this is kind of silly but Mingi really wanted us to do it,” he whispered, sitting down beside you.
Sumin had risen already and was kissing Mingi by the fridge, and Hongjoong and Seonghwa were full on laughing, a less domestic but still cheerful picture. There was nothing about the scene that you could hate; your two best friends happy, and you getting what you want, the sweet and smart and sexy boy, pretty as can be.
“It’s perfect,” you answered him, kissing again, nuzzling tight into the crevice of his shoulder.
when you're dragged back into a life you wanted to leave behind forever, you're forced to confront the man you willingly let go, too.
▷ genre, warnings. nc-17. exes 2 lovers, assassins au, yn deals in poisons, angst, suspense/mystery, mild violence, very uhhh interesting dynamic btwn people from one's past (scratches head), swearing, presence of guns, alcohol consumption, san is drunk and everyone is tired
▷ chapter wc. 5.4k
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a/n: IM AWAKE and here it is !!
EPISODE ONE: NO HARD FEELINGS.
AH, THE BARREL OF A GUN. You almost forgot what being at the end of one felt like: the chill that pinballed down your spine, the dark abyss of the chamber that held its next bullet, the heavy timbre of the hammer clicking into place.
The drowsiness in your vision dissipated like fog scattering over wet cobblestone. Never mind that it was probably somewhere close to three in the morning—this was proving to be a far more pressing matter.
There was a man attached to the gun pointed at your face. He seemed to be doing everything right, what with his black ski mask, gloves, and the way his knees and thighs pinned your body to your mattress. Any movement from you would likely trigger this guy to pull the one his pointer finger was on.
You held your breath.
“We can do this the easy way or the hard way,” he said, voice unfamiliar but gravely and low.
Herein was another issue—he used some half-baked, cliché movie line. If you weren't worried about the immediate danger, you might have rolled your eyes. “And what might the easy way be?” you asked.
Part of your blanket covered your highest hand, up to the pillow. If you could just inch your way up there toward the gun under your head…
“You walk outta here with me to meet my boss.”
Alright, you thought to yourself, I can work with that. That revealed a couple things to you, at the moment. As of now, you knew that he wasn't the mastermind and that he needed you alive. Whether unconscious or conscious probably didn't matter.
You made the split second decision to move.
Before your assailant could blink, you had both arms raised with a pistol thrust in his own masked face. Your arms ran parallel to his, opposing guns primed. You yanked the hammer down with your thumb; in the thrill of adrenaline and sleep deprivation, your hands mercifully did not shake.
You registered the shock in his eyes. Interesting.
“I'll shoot you, lady—”
You squeezed your core muscles and pulled your body upright, arm rearing back to slam the butt of the gun against his extended forearm.
His arm crumpled, the gun falling from his fingers. The grip on your body loosened and with a battle cry, you shoved him off of you and onto the floor. Your heart thundered in your ears as you searched the blankets for where his pistol had gone, eyes flickering to where the masked man slowly rose from his felled position.
“You're a slippery, little bitch,” he huffed and grabbed one of your legs and hauled you off the bed.
Can't shoot here, the thought flashed in your head.
You kicked your legs in his hold and thrashed about. One of your feet managed to hit true—a solid buck to the groin that sent him crumpling to his knees.
You grunted, your own body sliding off the mattress and thunking against the floorboards.
“And stay down,” you snarled, whipping him across the face with your gun again.
Instinct made you tear out of your apartment in your pajamas, grabbing the closest pair of shoes on the way, your bare feet slapping against the carpet. You stuffed your gun into the waistband of your pants, but you could already hear the feet pounding down the hallway after you.
Your eyes snagged on something bright red just up ahead.
You didn't think as you yanked the fire alarm lever and lit the entire building up in flashing white and ear-splitting sirens. The sounds of doors opening and slamming followed after you, right as you shucked on the shoes you took—a pair of black cat slippers (Damn.). The stairwell flooded with your grouchy neighbors to conceal your exit and the wild, scared look in your eyes.
As the rest of the apartment complex grumbled and cursed, you slipped into the crowd pouring out the doors and into the street. You didn't have your phone, your wallet, or proper clothes, and—
You glanced up at your apartment building as you hurried down the street away from it. At least you were alive.
There was one place your rattled and tired body now gravitated toward, and it was the Duality of Man. The Duality of Man was a nightclub in the city district a handful of blocks from your apartment complex, an establishment known for its sinfully delicious drinks, incredibly handsome bartenders, and its crimson red interiors. You didn't find yourself here often—in fact, it had been years since you last ventured near it—but it was a surefire way of getting help.
Especially when you didn't have money or a cell phone.
You hugged your arms around your body as a cold gust of night air swept past you. There was still a massive queue waiting outside the Duality's doors that wrapped around the block. The violent pulses of bass meshed with your heartbeat.
A thick-necked bouncer was stationed at the doors, holding the end of a red velvet rope.
You walked right up to him and stared him in the eye. You could feel the judgmental stares of onlookers, the clubgoers who were dressed to the nines to fit into the occasion and location, eyeing the big baseball jersey and pajama shorts hanging off your form, along with the black cat slippers on your feet.
It was hardly clubgoing attire, but the bouncer gave you one passive sweep, and unclipped the rope.
You didn't pretend you hadn't been holding your breath while he swiftly assessed you. You brushed past him and the queue in silence; maybe it was just dumb luck that they hadn't taken you off their VIP list.
Inside, the Duality of Man was as alive as ever.
Electronic dance music shook the house like the inside of a ribcage as you padded across the first floor past sweaty clubbers. You kept one arm wrapped around your stomach, hand resting over the handle of your gun through your shirt, and the other holding the opposite elbow.
The VIP stairs was guarded by yet another bouncer who recognized you as easily as the first. The climb up to the second floor was a familiar one, and the waitress dressed in wine red barely batted her pretty eyelashes at you as she asked for a drink order.
Fuck it. You deserved a drink. “Just an appletini, thanks,” you said offhandedly. It was something to sip on, you thought to yourself and made your way to a booth in the corner, while you waited for the bouncers to work their magic.
You tugged your feet up to crisscross beneath you on the leather seats just as the cocktail was delivered to your table. If there was one thing you could count on here, it was the service. And, well…
You lifted the drink to your lips, and lifted your eyes upward. A man was making his way toward you from the direction of the upstairs office. He was buttoned up in a black suit, hair combed neatly and his expression a stone faced neutrality.
The second thing you could count on was their reaction.
But whether or not Choi Jongho was walking over here to kick you out or ask you what was the matter, you couldn't tell.
Jongho settled his hand on the back of the booth seat across from you. “Hello, Yn.”
You gave him a small smile, a peace offering. “Hi Jongho. Sorry to barge in like this. I wouldn't be here if I had another option.”
He flicked his brows up at you and scanned your state of being. “I know,” he drawled. “Just don't say that to anyone else. You might hurt their feelings.”
You hid your microscopic wince behind the glass as you took another generous gulp of the drink. There was a gentle burn as it cascaded into your stomach, but it erased some of the post-threat anxiety. “Right,” you said quietly.
Jongho let out a small sigh and slid into the seat across from you, drumming his fingers against the table. “So what happened? You look… frazzled.”
“That's one way to put it,” you huffed a laugh. “I was—a target tonight.” You saw the moment his expression shifted. “Woke up with a gun pointed in my face, but I managed to get him off me. I ran out after that, which is why I still look ready for bed. I don't have my phone or wallet, just a gun.”
“I see.” Jongho leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. “Well, I can't leave you here or send you back there in good faith. You can stay at the Crow's Nest until we find the prick who did this.”
Your pulse hammered against your throat at the latter. “Oh, no I couldn't. You don't have to take me back to the Nest—”
“I don't have to or you don't want to?” he quipped with a cocked brow.
You pressed your lips together.
Jongho considered you for a moment. “You knew that it could have been any of us here tonight. What if it had been Wooyoung instead?”
Ah. You stared at the bottom of your martini glass with the cowardly spirit inside you shying away from Jongho's very fair questions. “I didn't know what else to do,” was all you could say. You weren't a fighter—that wasn't what you had been groomed for. If you did your job correctly, you never needed to fight back. Any inkling of self defense was whatever Wooyoung had taught you.
The young man across from you, an old friend who didn't forget that he had been a friend, fixed you with a pointed gaze. “Do the smart thing and stay at the Crow's Nest for the night. If it makes you feel better, he's out on an assignment in another city. He won't be home.”
You didn't know if that actually made you feel better, but you settled for the idea that the weight in your chest was relief and not something else.
There wasn't much room for argument. Although Jongho was the youngest out of his guild, it didn't mean he was any less reasonable or wise. In fact, you tended to look to him for judgment calls, and this would be one of them. He had that effect on people—an air of trustworthiness.
Jongho drove you to the Crow's Nest in silence. He was never much of a talker, and neither were you after tonight's events. The hard metal of your pistol dug into your stomach from where it was stuffed into your waistband, but you kept your hands in your lap, fingers wringing each other as the scenery became more and more familiar.
The Crow's Nest was perched on top of a high-rise apartment complex in the downtown area. The lights of the Halazia illuminated the Crow's Nest from below in a soft white-gold glow. It was terribly gorgeous, even more so from the ground. It sent shivers zipping down your spine and you warmed your arm with your palm to make the feeling go away.
“Any renovations since the last time I was here?” you piped up in an attempt at lightheartedness as Jongho slid into a private portion of the parking garage. The lights above shuddered like moving film as the car passed beneath them and deeper into the bowels of the garage.
Jongho lowered the volume of the radio and he carefully turned into an open parking spot between a gaudy red Porsche convertible and an onyx black Bentley SUV. “We got a pool,” he mused.
“Seriously?”
“Yep.” As he killed the engine, he sighed, “Construction was the worst. A rooftop patio was a horrible idea if you're ever thinking of one.”
You let out a chuckle to the percussion of the car doors slamming and echoing. “Yeah, I'll keep that in mind for my next million dollar estate.”
Even in light of Jongho's reassurances that you wouldn't be having the most awkward of awkward reunions tonight, your heart still picked up in speed as the two of you made your way to the elevator. Somehow, it was as if your body knew it was returning to someplace familiar, someplace you once called 'home.’
The jitters in your nerves sparked faster as the carriage rose. Jongho only offered a glance in solace—not quite a blatant lie as to how this will go, but still acknowledging your nervousness.
A few seconds later, you felt the ascent slow beneath your feet, before a light ding cut through the soft music to announce your arrival.
The elevator opened up into a vast living room space you recognized all too well. Not much about it changed—actually, none of it had. It was as if you'd stepped out of a time machine that took you back three years. The walls, soaked in a black, were accented with gold that glittered the most off the massive window framing the skyline. The ceiling in the living room was vaulted high to mimic a cavern; even if they managed to reach the top of the world, they would always try still to climb higher.
The centerpiece of the space was a long sectional couch made of the softest leather known to man. Tucked onto the one edge beneath the soft glow of a bell-shaped lamp was Kim Hongjoong. He glanced up from the book in his palm, over the edge of a pair of thin reading glasses. His hair was a dark brown this time around, not quite the rich shade of blue it had been when you last saw him.
His eyebrows lifted past the strand of hair curled over his forehead. “Well,” he drawled, slipping his glasses off and shutting his literature, “aren't you a sight for sore eyes?”
“Hey, Hongjoong,” you said with a small, crooked smile, shifting from cat slipper to cat slipper.
“Hongjoong?” The man pressed a hand to his chest with a melodrama that made your chest weep with nostalgia. “That's still 'Joong’ to you, kid.”
You couldn't resist an eye roll. “And that's ‘Yn’ to you, not ‘kid.’”
“Whatever helps you sleep at night.” His eyes slid over your form in a cursory scan, a frown flitting over your face. “So, uhm, I know Jongho doesn't come home early from work most nights and you don't make it a habit to wear a gun in your pants—”
Your hand immediately went over the gun, and you swore Hongjoong's eyes lit up with a smirk.
“—or are you just excited to see me?” he joked. “But seriously, what happened?”
Jongho carded a hand through his hair and walked past you. “I'll put on a pot of coffee,” he muttered.
Hongjoong's eyes followed his youngest until he disappeared into the kitchen. “That bad, huh?”
You were tempted to disagree, but you couldn't in good faith. “I didn't know where else to go,” you said helplessly, with nothing else you could do but shrug.
He considered you for a moment longer, tongue jammed into his cheek. With the hand that rested on the back of the couch, he flicked his fingers to beckon you over. “Alright, well don't just stand there, Yn-ah. You're always welcome back.”
His words had more of an effect on you than you anticipated. You made your way over to the opposite end of the couch, as if you'd been waiting for an invitation. Regardless of how Hongjoong was taking your sudden return in stride, you knew there was still some gap between you and him and the others.
You slowly tugged the gun out from your waistband, showing him the retracted hammer, before setting it gently on the coffee table. “Now I can truly relax,” you joked half-heartedly.
“I bet,” he laughed. “I can't live without a proper holster anymore.”
You tugged your legs up onto the couch beneath you, abandoning your cat slippers on the smooth, wooden floorboards. “So,” you drawled, “how are you… and the others?”
Hongjoong sent you a thin smile. “How am I and the others?”
“Yes, I mean everyone.” You did, truly. It wasn't just that one person; once upon a time, you'd been close with all of the boys in this guild.
“We're fine,” he said to you kindly. “The Duality of Man has never been so alive and business has never been so good. Now,” he fixed you with a pointed look, “what about you, hm? What's brought you here, Yn, because we both know you wouldn't be here if it wasn't dire.”
Well, when you put it that way… it seemed like everyone was intent on making you face the hard truth. You'd left them behind, made it clear that you wanted out. You cared about them and thought about them, but you could no longer stomach what you'd been groomed to do all your life.
“Someone was hired to take me tonight,” you said. You fidgeted with the hem of your shirt, avoiding his eyes. “He… he said that he would take me to go meet his boss, but I managed to get away. I didn't have time to grab anything, Joong, I just ran with my slippers and my gun. And—and I'm sure you know that my sisters aren't exactly in town anymore.”
You raised your head to find him staring at you with this look of brotherly concern. It was difficult to stomach, too, and you had to duck your head again. “I know that my coming here was uncalled-for, but I—had nowhere else to go.” And I was scared.
You didn't have to say the latter out loud; you practically grew up with Kim Hongjoong.
“You're alright, though?” he asked. “You're not injured?”
“Maybe a little bruise here and there, but I'm more rattled than anything.” You also didn't have your phone with you. It was a classic comfort item.
Hongjoong pushed an exhale out of his mouth and raked a hand through his hair. “What did he look like—do you remember?”
“He wore a ski mask,” you told him. “But he had dark eyes, pale skin, a decent build but not super muscular. I remember his voice; it wasn't modulated.”
“Good,” he muttered, nodding his head. He shifted his seating position, leaning forward onto his knees. There was this glint of steel in his eyes, something you knew was characteristic of the born-leader. “We'll get this guy, kid, I promise.”
You mustered up a small smile. “Thanks.”
In the beat of silence, you could feel Hongjoong's persistent gaze. There was something on his mind, on his tongue, that burned.
Jongho shouldered his way out of the kitchen with three mugs of coffee balanced in his hands. He was cursing and grumbling something under his breath, announcing his return in a way, as he made his way over to join you both.
“Yn.”
You tore your eyes from Jongho and back to Hongjoong.
“You know there are no hard feelings between us,” he said lowly. He bit his lip before continuing, “But you have to understand that seeing you again will be hard for—”
As if the universe itself delivered the stage cue, the elevator chimed, and declared the Nest's latest arrivals. You, Hongjoong, and Jongho all turned to see who had come. There was a familiar giggle that twinkled through the quiet like chimes, followed by a voice in loud, loving reprimand.
You felt him before you saw him, heard him before you realized. Your body knew him before your brain did, an instinct, something out of pure survival. (Because didn't nature dictate that our instincts could be trusted? That we ran when we felt threatened, and we ran to safety?)
It was like the ends of two magnets—yours and his eyes.
You imagined your stomach fell right when the smile slipped off his face.
Choi San's face was flush as he swayed off the elevator. “Oh my gosh, Yn-ie? Wow, now it's really a party.”
Beside him, practically holding his friend upright, was Jung Wooyoung—the man who you and Hongjoong and Jongho were skirting around in discussion, the man who you spent arguably the majority of your life beside, the man whose heart you broke three years ago when you left him behind.
No hard feelings, huh?
All things considered, Wooyoung was having a standout week. First, he received an extra commission from the job he and Yeosang did a couple weeks ago. Next, he finished his assignment out of town early. Then, San (of all people) wanted to get wasted and Wooyoung won every drinking game they played at the bar.
He was feeling good, and he was sure he wasn't even that tipsy from… dinner…
But then again, you could not be sitting on his couch at four in the morning. You could not be anywhere near the Crow's Nest. You could not be here, in his fuckass high school baseball jersey (so that's where that went), looking like a dream.
He was dying. He had to be dying, because the only way he ever got to see you was—
He cleared his throat, slapped on a smile that wasn't convincing in the slightest. “You stole my shirt.”
There was a flicker of confusion and offense across your face, and something in his chest ignited in satisfaction. “You gave this to me,” you said, pinching the material in a gesture.
So you were real, and not just a figment of his inebriated imagination.
Jongho deposited the three mugs in his hands onto the coffee table, then came over to drape a sleepy Choi San onto his own body. “Why don't I go bring him up to his room and you guys can catch up?”
“Choi Jongho,” you scowled. “You said he was—”
“Your fault for believing an assassin!” he called back, already halfway up the stairs.
It was so difficult for Wooyoung not to stare, but maybe he was a little tipsy, because he couldn't pull his eyes away. There was this unexplainable weight over his chest now; he couldn't decide whether to soak in as much of you as possible or give you the cold shoulder.
But you were here. He couldn't deny that, and he wouldn't deny himself just a little slip in self control either.
He swallowed. “So, uh, what're you doin’ here?”
Your head whipped toward him once more, and he relished in the eye contact. You and Hongjoong exchanged a glance, and his heart rate quickened. What the hell was that?
“She needs a place to stay for the night,” said Hongjoong.
Wooyoung's eyes narrowed. “What's wrong with your apartment?”
“Bugs.”
“Mice.”
You looked at each other again.
Wooyoung's mood took a nosedive off an emotional cliff. His brows furrowed and he frowned, walking away from the elevator and toward the couch. What weren't you telling him? “Then you're sleeping in my room.”
Hongjoong raised a hand. “We have a guest room.”
He scoffed. “She's not a guest, she's my” —his mouth snapped shut before he said something he regretted. The words that were dying to be said were reeled back far into the pits of his stomach.
Aish, there went all of his dignity. Your eyes burned into the side of his head and he swiveled his own to look anywhere but you. He caught sight of something on the floor by your feet, a pair of familiar black cat slippers; then the small pistol on the table, a weapon you never liked. His stomach twisted violently—
“She'll sleep in the guest room,” Hongjoong repeated quietly, firmly. There would be no argument.
Wooyoung sucked in a breath, hissing softly. “Can I talk to you?” he asked you.
You blinked at him and he didn't want to psychoanalyze the way the lights reflected in your eyes, but if he was a little more drunk, he just might have. “Okay.”
With no other prompting, he began walking toward the kitchen. He heard the sound of scuffling, the same noise that erupted whenever he walked around in those cat slippers except with a different cadence to his stride. He wanted to laugh; what kind of cruel jokes the universe liked to play.
The kitchen smelled like freshly roasted coffee beans.
The pot was still a quarter of the way full, perspiration rolling down from its lid over the glass edges.
He stopped himself by the fridge with his hands on his denim-clad hips, his leather jacket suddenly a tad too warm and too tight. The door to the kitchen swung and flapped gently before you put its motion to a stop.
“Hey, I'm sorry for showing up so randomly,” your voice, soft like the edges of a coffee filter, curled into his ears. A love song from a not-so-distant past. “I know it’s not fair and I don't deserve to be here after what I did—”
“You're in trouble, aren't you?” he cut in. He didn't want to hear that. Not tonight.
You could only stand there with this exhaustion on your face, your hands wringing out the hem of the shirt he'd given you in the eleventh grade. His first ever team jersey. How the hell did that thing still fit you?
“I saw the gun, Yn,” Wooyoung continued while taking a step closer to you. He licked his lips, carded a hand through his hair. Did you and Hongjoong not trust him with whatever the situation was? He would go to the ends of the goddamn earth for you. “You look like you just rolled out of bed, it's 4am, and you haven't called in… years. Nevermind what you did or said—it doesn't matter, not if you're in danger.”
He didn't want to admit that none of it mattered anyway. Even if you'd come here on a whim, that you'd woken up from a weird dream and had to tell someone immediately, he would have taken that answer. Before you were lovers, you'd been best friends, after all.
You nodded then, and his stomach churned. He needed to focus now that you'd confirmed a threat. “Someone hired a guy to break into my apartment and try to take me,” you said. “Obviously, I got away in the end, but I can't exactly go back there tonight.”
Oh. Oh.
Wooyoung couldn't stop the fist clenching in the pocket of his jacket. Whoever this guy was, whatever his or his employer's intentions were, he would find out. He would hunt them down for doing that to you, for scaring you and interrupting your life. You hadn't even disclosed any details of the encounter, and here he was, imagining every evil thing under the sun.
It scared the crap out of him.
“Are you alright?” was his first question. He couldn't figure out a way to word the rest of his thoughts in a tangle. His eyes scanned your form, just like the first moment he saw you again, only with much different intentions. There were no obvious scratches or injuries, no bruises had bloomed yet either. As you said, you made it out and got away.
(His fingers itched, though—itched to reach out and take your face in his hands, to examine you properly. There was so much space between you two. It was devastating, this chasm.)
You nodded, grabbing your arm and mindlessly scratching at the skin. “I'm fine. I told Hongjoong all that I remembered,” you replied, “I was just a bit scared, I guess.” The latter was accompanied by a small, deprecating chuckle.
“You had every right to be scared.”
He bit his lip, meeting your eyes as he took the steps to close the gap.
Even before the two of you had made your mutual feelings clear to each other years and years ago, he'd never had any trouble with initiating contact—both physical and emotional. He loved showing people he cared and your mutually agreed upon no contact period killed him.
Wooyoung carefully wrapped his arms around you. Your body molded too perfectly into his own, and he could feel your tensions release as you reciprocated the action. He wondered if you could feel the pathetic tachycardia of his heart against yours. “Missed you, brat,” he muttered against your hair. “I'm glad you're okay.”
Your hand cupped the back of his head and his eyes fluttered shut. “I missed you, too. And who are you calling 'brat?’”
A snort fell from his mouth as he smiled. He reluctantly pulled away and patted your head as he did, relishing in the wrinkled-nosed petulance you sent his way. “I've got a list of justifications. Wanna hear some?” The first one had to do with not returning his heart.
“It’s all projection,” you quipped back. “You're the real brat.”
“Uh-huh,” he said, his tongue caught between his teeth. He cocked a brow at you. “Even if I was, what're you gonna do about it?”
The second your cheeks darkened in a slight flush, he all but punched the air. Maybe it was slow torture, your unexpected return, but he could still play this to his advantage. If he played his cards right…
He could do it, he decided. He could simultaneously win your heart back, and find and kill the fucker who made you afraid. Yes, the plan was coming together.
Kim Hongjoong watched as the door to the kitchen slowed to a stop. You and Wooyoung had just disappeared in there to “talk,” and he wasn't sure exactly how this would go. With Wooyoung, a notorious wildcard, it could go a number of ways. Then again, you had worlds more self-control than he did—truly it would be a toss-up between who's will won out.
The leader sighed, plucking his book up again and opening it to the bookmarked page. What an interesting turn of events this night became. He really needed to go to bed.
“You know she was wearing Wooyoung's old baseball jersey, right?”
Hongjoong peered over the edge of his glasses, up to the landing of the stairs on the second floor. “Are you surprised?” he drawled in response, closing the book again.
Park Seonghwa appeared out of the shadows, leaning over the banister with his Animal Crossing pajamas messy, and a pair of glasses sitting crooked on the bridge of his nose. “No,” he replied, “but I am surprised she's here of all places.”
“You're surprised by that?” Hongjoong raised his brows. “Her sisters moved out of this city a year ago and she doesn't exactly trust the police. Where else would she go?”
His second-in-command shrugged, leaning his cheek against his fist. “I supposed I just believed she was more stubborn.”
“She's stubborn, not stupid, Hwa.”
“I know.” Seonghwa let out a small yawn. “How's Wooyoung?”
Hongjoong glanced back toward the kitchen door. No screaming or crying yet. “Beats me. He only pretends to wear his heart on his sleeve most of the time, but…” He shook his head. “I don't know.”
“Well, as long as she's not about to lead him on.”
“Come on, we know her better than that. She's not here to make him suffer.” In fact, he got the impression that you were convinced to come here partly because Jongho reassured you that Wooyoung was out of town. You certainly were not here to try and rub salt in old wounds.
Seonghwa was quiet for a beat. “You're right, sorry. I guess I'm just—I’ve only seen Wooyoung's side of the heart break.”
Hongjoong could understand that, because so did he. But he'd spoken to you before when you were leaving, and though he couldn't find his moral compass aligning with yours, he knew it was something you had to do. There were hard feelings, but it was all to protect the very soft, vulnerable flesh of the heart deep beneath.
In an effort to lighten the mood, he said, “Well, despite all of that, I'm sure Wooyoung won't hold anything back in trying to go after Yn's assailant tonight.”
Seonghwa chuckled. “Oh, I can agree with you on that.”
The two eldest descended into a thoughtful silence. It was rather strange: why would someone come after you now? Three years after your so-called retirement, and they chose this moment to do so? And what for?
Seonghwa brought Hongjoong out of his thoughts again. “So they're in there? The kitchen?”
“Hm? Oh, yup.”
A snicker echoed into the dark and Hongjoong felt himself smirking. “What's so funny?” he asked. (He already knew.)
“Nothing,” Seonghwa mused, “just that old habits die hard.”
a/n: pls remember to reblog + comment if u enjoyed !
⭑ bf!mingi x gf!reader x bestie!yunho
⭑ it finally happened... and then it happened again... and again... until lines are blurred and everything feels a little heavier than it was supposed to.
⭑ sex, lots of it! p in v, oral (m&f), mxm, praise, degradation, bondage tape, restraining, choking, slapping, sex not working lol, idk if there's anything else if i forgot anything don't hesitate to let me know!!!
⭑ part two of three / wc 31.3k
⭑ — put me in the middle!! this took me awhile i'm sorry hahaha but i am super in love with them and i hope you are too! thank you for reading and thank you so, so, SO much for all the love on part one!!
Seven thirty.
Two heavy knocks at the door, knuckles of long, pink-tipped fingers, followed by the subtle wheeze of it opening, then a soft sound of a tarnished, gold latch locking.
“I’m here,” he calls out, his voice smooth as always, the sound of his shoes against hardwood moving through your entryway giving you and Mingi zero time to mentally prepare. You meet his gaze from one end of the hallway to another, watching as your boyfriend’s eyes widen, how his feet pivot too quickly to face your living room.
He’s here. Perfectly on time.
You scurry into your bedroom, throwing the last bit of laundry in your hamper, packing it hastily in your closet. The last twenty-four hours were nothing but preparation, which was all useless, anyhow. Yunho has seen every inch of your apartment at every different stage– Messy, clean, laundry day, when he had made the mess himself.
Tonight was different. After days of talking about it with Mingi, which was just the same conversation nearly verbatim over and over, you’d decided that for sure this was what you wanted. Opening the door, letting Yunho in, allowing him to show you things you’d been spending over a month researching, practicing, exploring.
You never needed to talk about it in the first place. Both of you had made your decision a week ago, with one of Yunho’s hands on your hips and the other on Mingi’s jaw, his spit drying on your bottom lip and inside of your boyfriend’s mouth. Yunho was a pipe dream, but the answer to all your prayers.
Yunho was a necessity.
Someone you’ve known for years whom you love and trust, someone you would do anything for, is now fulfilling the biggest favor you had ever asked in your entire life.
You took a deep breath in the mirror above your vanity, moving stray pieces of hair out of your face, adjusting your fitted tee to meet the hem of Mingi’s boxers around your waist. Adrenaline sparked at your fingertips as you padded into the living room on socked feet, wearing the biggest close-mouthed smile you could muster despite the blood rushing to your ears.
With the smell of warm vanilla in your nose and a muted orange coating the room, it felt like you were enveloping yourself in a tight hug as you entered the open space. You had thoroughly set yourself up for comfort, knowing yourself, knowing Mingi, tonight was something bigger than either of you had ever experienced.
You were nervous, no doubt, but so fucking excited. You haven’t been with anyone besides Mingi in years, you could barely remember a time before Mingi, and now you were displaying yourself so openly, in such a delicate position for someone else. Butterflies swarmed in your stomach, threatening to escape through your locked jaw.
“…San’s house can fit all of us easily. It’s huge,” You caught the tail end of Mingi’s sentence as you crossed the living room, the two already in conversation, sitting on opposite sides of the space. Mingi was dressed as he was every other night, sweat shorts and a big tee, as if this was just another movie night.
You took your spot next to your boyfriend, knees tucked up to your chest, tongue in your cheek, fully aware of your heart in your chest. You pushed your eyebrows high to ask, “What’d I miss?”
“Talking about the beach trip,” Mingi quickly replied, then looked back to Yunho, “How long did he say? Thursday to Sunday?”
Yunho nods, “Yeah, I already took off work so I’m definitely in.”
Your lips scrunched to the side, mind already going one hundred miles per hour. They spoke so casually, as if your plans weren’t even happening, as if this truly was just another movie night. You couldn’t decide if that fed you comfort or if you should check the pulse point in your wrist, you didn’t want to think about the beach trip, what might change between now and then. What if tonight went poorly? Would you be the same after? Would you have to avoid Yunho during the long weekend at San’s beach house?
You filled your lungs with vanilla scented air, reminding yourself that you and Mingi talked about this already. Mingi reassured you that no matter what happened tonight, Yunho will still be your friend.
You prayed he was right.
“I’m excited that Wooyoung is coming,” you added, a forced, bright smile on your face, forcing the thoughts out of your mind. He was coming back to your state for the occasion, already taking off from work despite just starting his new job. A very Wooyoung thing to do.
“Not Sana?” Yunho teased, a lopsided grin playing on his lips, and you finally took him in as he sank further into His Spot. Silver hair swept across his forehead, his hands laid flat on his thighs, knees spread, shoulders squared, even in a hoodie and sweats he looked polished, self-assured. Dominant.
Your excitement returned.
“Definitely not Sana,” you said through a breath as the thoughts sank in, eyes everywhere but on his. Your head was elsewhere, distracted, anticipation sitting heavy in your spine.
Yunho finally called mid-week, wondering if you had changed your mind, asking if he could make good on his promise. You and Mingi couldn’t agree fast enough. He laughed at how eager you sounded, his voice velvety over the phone, slipping into that tone he’s only used on you on one occasion, but was already something you craved.
Now sitting across from him, waiting, making small talk as a preface for what’s to come, your body felt tight, like arousal was bottled up inside you, begging to be released.
It’s not like you and Mingi haven’t fucked, either.
Last week when Yunho left it was like a dam had broken inside your boyfriend, as if all of his fears disappeared. The jealousy you at one point wished he could feel, act on, had shown itself so clearly you could still feel it between your thighs. He had fucked you within an inch of your life, harder than he ever has in the years you’ve been together, that night was primal. All laying claim and taking back what had been given to another, Mingi’s hands had left every spot Yunho touched raw.
You loved every fucking second of it. And he did, too.
It turned him on as much as it pissed him off, to see you with someone else, to see you enjoying it as much as you did. But after getting it out of his system, he still wanted tonight, wanted to see you with him, wanted to feel Yunho’s hands on his own body, wanted his tongue in his mouth. It’s come up in every conversation, every session since that night. Maybe both of you were insatiable.
Yunho huffs a laugh, a small sound of amusement, his head dipping down, shaking side to side in disbelief. You bite your lip as he picks his head back up, his eyes deeper, knowing.
His smile tells you everything, that you were transparent, he could see every thought you’ve formed in the past week. He could feel how his name sat between you and your boyfriend, how the mention of him had you coming undone several times over seven days.
“Let’s get to it then?” He cocks his head to the side once more, cunning radiating off of him, “Since the two of you look like you’re about to explode.”
You meet Mingi’s eye and heat has already reached his cheeks, spread wide across his nose, but you doubt you looked any different. A smile pulls at the corner of your lips and Mingi matches it, the same thought running through your minds. Finally.
“Are we that obvious?” Mingi’s smile is coy now, a shred of embarrassment leaking through as faces Yunho again. He runs a hand through his hair, his palm landing heavily on your knee.
“To me?” Yunho raises his eyebrows, hands sliding across the length of his thighs, “Absolutely.”
“You left us… Abruptly last week,” you tuck your bottom lip between your teeth as you glance up at Mingi, “To say we’ve been waiting for tonight is an understatement.”
Yunho laughs, the kind of giggle you normally only hear when he’s a few beers deep and Mingi just told a corny joke. A sound you never paid attention to, but now lays comfort over you like a blanket. “I did kind of blue-ball you, my bad. Just wanted to make sure you were both serious when you were clear-headed.”
“Our minds haven’t changed even a little,” you shake your head, “Everything still stands.”
“Can we talk about it again, though? Just to refresh,” Mingi shifts on the couch, his position mirroring Yunho for the most part, his back less straight and his shoulders slouched.
“Of course,” Yunho nods, “Overstim, edging, choking and degradation are all yes from both of you.” His eyes land on you alone, “But only to you can I inflict physical pain. Slapping, hitting of any kind, restraining you, that kind of thing.”
Your toes curl against the couch, thighs flexing, fingers tightening where they linked around your shins. You and Mingi both nodded, but Mingi was the one who spoke, “We want to learn, too. How to be dominant.”
“Then try to pay attention,” Yunho’s lips curve at the corner, “Correct me if I’m wrong, but your biggest struggle is what to do when you’re both feeling submissive, right?”
You and Mingi nod in agreement again. Yunho continues, “Then just enjoy tonight, the teaching can come later if you want it to. Do you remember your safe word?”
“Kiwi,” you respond simply, releasing your legs, letting them stretch out before you, socked feet hitting the hardwood.
“That’s if you want to fully stop, right?” You both nod. “We’ll use the stoplight system then, too.”
“Green means go, yellow pause, and red stop, right?” Mingi glances at you, then redirects his attention back to Yunho, who leans forward to place his elbows on his knees.
As Yunho explains the system, you and Mingi nod slowly, taking in every word. You haven’t even been pushed to yellow, you think, but you wondered what could push you to red. Yunho’s face was serious as he spoke, not a shred of humor, making sure you ingested what he was saying. You could tell he’s explained this several times, the words smoothly pouring out of his lips like water.
“If you’re unable to speak and need to stop or pause, use two fingers to tap me twice, anywhere on my body. I’ll know,” he nods as he speaks, eyes still analyzing you and Mingi, as if he could see the gears turning in your heads, how you pocketed the information.
“Any questions?” He looks between you, eyes dancing between yourself and your boyfriend.
“Why can’t I just say stop?” Mingi asks plainly, “I feel like that gets the point across.”
Yunho’s lips lift at the corners, “Because stop doesn’t always mean stop, some people get off on staying stop and their partner not stopping.”
Mingi’s lips part, eyebrows twisting together as he looks at you beside him. He looked utterly horrified despite all the research you’ve done, and the sight makes you giggle. That never quite made sense to him.
“Why would anyone enjoy that?” Mingi’s palm goes over his heart, curious and concerned.
Yunho shrugs as he sinks back into His Spot, back pressed against the couch, “Kinks are kinks.”
Mingi shakes his head, mumbling under his breath, “That will never be me.”
“And it doesn’t have to be,” Yunho responds simply, “That’s why we talk these things out and explore. The two of you might not be into the same shit, but it doesn’t mean either of you are wrong for being into it.”
“What are you into?” Mingi leaned forward, crossing one leg over his knee, “Now I'm curious.”
“There’s honestly not much I’d say no to,” Yunho’s eyes glance upward in thought, “I’m not into scat play, blood play, I’m not huge on food play but I wouldn’t necessarily say no to it. I’m more of a sadist kind of Dom, and I guess I only look for relationships when there’s a total power exchange.”
You lift a brow, mind drifting back to your conversation with Jihyo, “Total power exchange? Like, outside of the bedroom, right?”
Yunho nods, “Some people just call it twenty four-seven, you saw it when we were at Wooyoung’s going away party. It’s a huge responsibility that comes with rules and protocols, it teaches discipline, accountability.”
You sink back into the couch, wondering where all of this started. How Yunho got into this, how it affects his lifestyle, if that’s why he can’t hold a relationship to save his damn life. You always thought it was because he was flighty, or he didn’t know what was good for him, not that he wanted his partners to fully and absolutely submit to him. Years later, the puzzle pieces begin falling into place.
“Don’t think I’m expecting anything that intense from you two,” he waves a hand in front of him, “I just want you to have the full experience tonight and enjoy yourselves.”
Feeling warm, you smile, “Thank you, for doing this.”
Yunho’s face twists up, “Don’t say it like there’s anywhere else I’d rather be right now.”
A beat of silence falls over the room, heavy and charged, the energy shifting all at once.
“I’ve been thinking about you two beneath me for days,” his head tips back, voice slipping into that sultry tone, syrupy and sweet. “Ah, what I’d do with you.”
You breathe through your nose, heartbeat picking up in your chest, “Then do it.”
His head picks back up, eyebrows flat, gaze deeper than coal. In one steady, controlled breath, he says, “Come here then, let me pick back up where I left off.”
As if your blood had become carbonated, your body buzzes with thrill, feeling the warmth in every cold, dark corner of your mind.
He’s here, this is real, he wants you.
You’re on your feet without a second thought, fingertips pulling Mingi’s boxers back down over your butt, making it before Yunho’s knees in two long strides without looking behind you. You’re steadier this time as your shins fall on either side of his hips, thighs straddling his. You’re eye level with him like this, and his features are all warm, welcoming, but the power, control behind them… You think that maybe you didn’t have to wonder how he started, how he got into BDSM, that maybe this lifestyle was waiting for him all along.
“Back straight,” his words cut through you like glass, “Eyes on me.”
Your back straightens on command, shoulders back, eyes meeting his without a second thought.
Yunho smiles, his voice edible, “Such a good listener.” His hand comes up to your cheek, swallowing it as he tucks your hair behind your ear, “Gonna be good for me tonight?”
You nod eagerly, and he huffs a laugh. “So easy, aren’t you?” His hand falls to your waistband, eyeing the cotton around your hips, fingers trailing the elastic, “Untouched, unkissed. Could probably reach in and feel you soaked for me, couldn’t I?”
He meets your eye and you feel see through, his touch leaving zaps of electricity in its wake. Your voice doesn’t come out as steady as you want it to as you say, “Wanted this all week.”
“I’m sure you did,” he taunts as he looks you up and down, palms landing on your thighs, sliding across your skin, leaving a trail of heat where they pause. You tried not to shift in his hold, keeping your back straight as he asks, “You cum thinking about me?”
Your breath hitches in your throat, but you nod, because it’s the truth. Mingi has, too. A mention of his name had you two feral, for seven whole days. You’ve probably been wet since you opened your eyes this morning.
His fingers grip at your thighs, “Kiss me, baby. Been keeping you waiting long enough.”
You press your lips to his hastily like you had to prove the last seven days had been hell, full of enough patience to last you a lifetime. He controls the kiss immediately, taming your greed, hands landing on your waist like a reminder, tongue slipping into your mouth to let you taste him. You arch into his touch, hands landing on his shoulders to feel the muscle beneath thin cotton, to let it ground you as your confidence grows.
With your head less hazy this time, you allowed yourself to take everything in. The taste of mint on his tongue, the feeling of silver locks between your fingers as your hand reached his nape, how the hips below you, despite feeling different, still felt right. His mouth tasted like him, like foreignness, like exploration, like a new beginning.
You sank into it, into him, the feeling of his skin on yours. He deepened the kiss, hands falling to your hips, his own softly bucking up against you in a silent command. You rolled yourself against him and a gasp immediately escaped you like you haven’t been touched in days, fingers curling around the short hairs on his neck, the motion flicking a switch in your brain.
He smiled against your lips, fingers tightening around you, working you into a rhythm. It wasn’t long until your eyes screwed shut, lips going slack against his, head falling forward in pleasure, completely lost in the stimulation he was allowing you.
Until Mingi pulled it from under your feet.
He whines from the couch behind you and the sound is enough to alarm your nervous system– Your body goes rigid against his best friend as panic zips down your spine, as if you had gotten caught doing something wrong, even if it wasn’t wrong. You whipped your head around before Yunho could catch you to see your boyfriend splayed out on the couch, fisting his clothed cock over his shorts, features twisted up in arousal. Eyebrows furrowed, jaw slack, lips parted, he looked a mess.
It was turning him on to see you with Yunho.
Of course it was, you’ve both been waiting for this.
Your eyes meet and hunger personified stares back at you, flushed cheeks and bitten lips, cock twitching in his palm. It hits you then that he wants this, he wants to see you fall apart in Yunho’s hands, he wants to see you together. There’s no hesitation in the way he stares back at you, no second-guessing, no questions left to be asked.
As if something ignited in your gut, like Mingi had waved a green flag, you turned back to Yunho and reattached your lips, picking up where you left off, desperation swimming in each roll of your hips. Ease settled over you like an embrace, right, this was all okay. You’re okay. You’re allowed to enjoy this.
But not too much. Not yet.
“Easy,” Yunho stilled your hips with enough pressure against bone to make you pull away from him with a hiss, chest heaving and eyes wide. Yunho peered over your shoulder, his composure completely intact, eyes squinting as he stared at Mingi across the room, “Who told you that you could touch yourself?”
You turned your head to see Mingi’s shorts pulled down to his thighs now, his cock peeking just outside of his briefs, leaking and angry with negligence, his eyes wide as he realizes he’s been caught. He quickly peels his hands away from his crotch, holding them up on either side of his chest in an attempt to prove his innocence.
He knew he couldn’t bullshit Yunho, he’d been caught red-handed. In a falsely sweet voice, Yunho sang, “Come here, Min.”
Mingi tucked himself away, walking toward you with a guilty look on his face, eyebrows twisted inward with a slight pout on his lips. Yunho smacked his teeth with his lips, right back to power and control, “On your knees.”
Mingi’s eyebrows fled to his hairline, but he obeyed, lowering himself onto the hardwood, cock pressing against its restraints. Yunho let out a huff of amusement, “You think this is sexy? Watching your girlfriend hump me like a dog?”
You gasped, almost silently, your body burning with embarrassment and arousal. Mingi nodded without an ounce of shame. Yunho laughed with his chest this time, condescending and sinister, his hands circling over your hips. “Of course you do. Sit there and watch, then.”
He connected your lips again, messier than before, his hands sliding to your ass, squeezing the skin, all for Mingi to see. His hands traveled beneath your shirt, up your back, nails grazing against your skin, making you gasp into him, your hips bucking against his, fisting his cotton tee. He smiled into the kiss, so poised, like all of this was a part of his plan.
His hands fell to your waist, gripping tight as he lifted you off his lap, turning you to lay you on the couch beside him. He was fast in maneuvering himself on top of you, his frame completely engulfing you beneath him, caging you in against the cushions. You should be used to the size above you, with your boyfriend as huge and buff as he is, Yunho is only a few inches taller. The difference makes your brain short-circuit each time.
Stealing the breath from your lungs, Yunho’s kiss was borderline harsh, short and sharp, a display for Mingi who still sat untouched on the floor. Yunho keeps himself steady above you, chocolate eyes searching for something in your face, maybe memorizing it, as if it was already his.
He glanced to his side, at Mingi on the floor, then back to you. His voice is soft yet weighted with composure and control, a deliberate whisper, “You look so fucking pretty like this.”
With heated cheeks your gaze slid over your boyfriend, zeroing in where he trapped his palms between his thighs and his calves. He was restraining himself in order to obey Yunho. The sight combined with Yunho’s words went straight to your core.
“Min,” Yunho purred, meeting his gaze that stayed steady on you, “Come here.”
Mingi scrambled closer to the sofa and Yunho finally met the doe eyes that stared up at him with hope and submission, but he didn’t react. He nodded his head down towards you, his voice steady, “Kiss her, slowly. I want to see you two together.”
It took Mingi all of a second to lift himself off the couch, to press a knee to the cushion, to hover over you like Yunho had a moment ago. He melts his lips with yours, your hands immediately finding his cheeks, letting his tongue slip into your mouth. So different from Yunho, messier, less control, but Mingi tasted like home. Safety and familiarity, a Sunday morning, a lifetime of love. He kept the kiss slow and deliberate, despite the need you could taste on his tongue, you couldn’t hold back the soft moan you breathed into his mouth.
Mingi pulled away after one more delicate kiss, meeting Yunho’s eyes expectantly, his eyes bright and waiting. Yunho’s smile is pleased, “Good.”
The two lean in simultaneously, their lips molding like they were made for it. You watched with parted lips and a chest that couldn’t stop rising and falling, eyebrows knitting together in arousal. Fuck, they were so hot together, and the sound Mingi made— Somewhere between a breath and a whimper, God, you’d never forget it. A very pointed throb erupted at your center at the sight, at the sound, at the feeling it gave you deep in your gut.
Yunho’s hands tighten in Mingi’s hair as Mingi’s hands fall to his hips, the two of them getting lost in the kiss, Mingi sinking into Yunho’s touch. You breathed through it, wanting to moan, wanting to be in the middle.
Yunho broke away first, his lips a millimeter away from Mingi’s, his knuckles still white in your boyfriend’s onyx locks. His voice is quiet but strong enough to command an army, “Back on the floor, hands behind your back. Watch while I make her cum.”
Mingi whimpers, his eyes sliding to you, dazed and just as lost as your own. He obeys nonetheless, cheeks flushed and chest heaving, his knees hitting the floor the only sound in the room.
Yunho’s gaze returns to you, and you feel like he’s already stripped you bare with the way his eyes travel your body, landing at your center, where your knees had been spread from the beginning. He cracks a smile.
“Color?” He lifts his eyes to yours, eyebrows raised.
You loose a breath, “Green.”
“Good,” he purrs, fingers ghosting up your thighs, landing at the elastic band around your hips. “Lift up for me, baby. Wanna see.”
You lift your hips as his fingers curl into your shorts, sliding them down your thighs, throwing them on the floor after they slip off your heels. A gasp leaves your throat as the air hits your center, as Yunho places his hands on your thighs, keeping you spread.
“So pretty,” he shakes his head once, “Prettier than I imagined.”
Your eyes slide to Mingi again and he’s sitting politely, hands behind his back, his eyes locked at the same place Yunho’s are— On you, splayed out on the couch in your living room for both of them to see.
You couldn’t form an ounce of shame.
“So fucking wet,” Yunho smiles, meeting your eye as his hands slide closer to your center. “Jesus, baby. Wanted to be touched this badly?”
Your response was a whimper, a silent beg, hips jerking into his touch. He spreads your folds and you gasp again at his touch, encouraging him to slide a finger up and down, spreading your slick to place his thumb on your clit, adding pressure.
“Fuck,” you breathed, body curling forward at the stimulation. You didn’t have to guess whether or not he knew what he was doing.
“Watch your mouth,” he’s quick to respond, rubbing tight circles on your clit, watching as your eyes roll back, how the curses die on your tongue.
You heave a heavy breath, eyes finally meeting his again, he keeps your stare as his fingers dip down, while he slips one inside with no warning. You cry out as he curls it at the knuckle, hitting the same spot Mingi hits with skilled precision, all while keeping his eyes on yours.
With a cheshire grin and a voice laced with amusement, he says, “Too easy.”
Mingi might have made a sound from the floor, but it fell on deaf ears as you kept your eyes on Yunho, his locked on yours. The two of you under a spell, he slips another finger in, bringing his other hand down to rub your clit again, moans and cries leaving your lips as you feel the familiar pressure pooling in your gut, begging to be released.
He was good. Too fucking good. The only other person to make you feel this good this quickly in your life was your boyfriend, sitting too sweetly next to you both on the floor. How he wasn’t losing his mind, especially after last week, you weren’t sure.
“There you go,” Yunho nods, picking up his pace, his fingers fucking into you at a rhythm you knew all too well, “Cum for me, baby. Show him.”
You moaned in response, breaking out of the spell to slide your gaze to your boyfriend who finally looked back. You moaned out, “Feels so good, Min.”
“Shit, so hot,” Mingi curses under his breath, his eyes opening and closing slowly, his hands still behind his back. Lips still red and cheeks still flushed, he still looked a mess, nearly untouched. With blown pupils and a strain in his voice, he said, “Show me, wanna see you cum for him. Need to see it.”
As if his permission was the last thing you needed, your eyes met Yunho’s as you came undone around his fingers, body curling in on itself, legs going stiff, all the blood in your body rushing to your ears. But it wasn’t the stimulation that had you coming around his fingers, it was the combination of attention, how two pairs of eyes watched every move you made, how two men listened to each sound that left your lips.
“So fucking tight,” Yunho hisses, “How do you fit inside, Min?”
“You’ll see,” was Mingi’s only response, his composure deteriorating each minute that passed.
You lay spread on the couch, chest heaving as Yunho slips his fingers out, popping them in his mouth. His eyebrows raise, bringing his attention to Mingi, “She tastes good, too.”
Mingi smiles the best he can, restraint still clear in his brows, “Tell me about it.”
Your cheeks burn as they talk about you like you’re not there, as if you didn’t just orgasm on display for both of them to see, as if their attention isn’t what made you cum. With a pout on your lips you bend your legs, pressing your knees together to block their view, hoping Yunho didn’t see how the slight embarrassment made your center pulse.
“You don’t think I’m done with you, do you?” Yunho asks after slipping his fingers out of his mouth with a pop, his palms landing on your knees.
You give a small shake of your head, “I hope not.”
He tilts his head, “Color?”
“Green,” you answer too quickly, and he smiles, his hands falling from your knees.
“Okay,” he nods his chin in the direction of your hallway, “Go to your room.”
You stand on shaky legs, socked feet and your fitted tee the only thing left on your body as you walk to your bedroom, hearing Yunho behind you, “You too, Min.”
You hop on your bed, laying flat on your back, your mind already whirling. Yunho had never seen you before, never touched you before, not until tonight. Panic anchors you to the mattress at the thought, how this could change things, if Mingi would ever look at you the same.
Mingi enters before Yunho, and your neck twists to meet his eye, to read him.
His brows raise. You okay?
You smile. Yes, you?
He matches your grin, wide and excited, More than okay.
You almost don’t catch Yunho following in behind him, his posture a display of strength in itself. You sit up on your elbows, eyebrows slightly raised, anticipation thick in the room, feeling hot despite the air conditioner whirling in the window.
“Undress her, Min,” Yunho sits right above your head, one arm holding him upright, “Slowly.”
Mingi presses a knee to the bed, and there’s nothing slow about the way he grabs you by your ankles to pull you toward him. You yelp as your butt hits the edge, eyes lifting to see your boyfriend breathless above you, eyes deep and crazed, deprived. His hands trace every inch of skin visible to him, from your ankles to slipping under the hem of your shirt, he couldn’t stay still.
“So soft,” he almost whines, “Want to touch you so fucking bad.”
You smile, body arching into him, “Touch me.”
“No,” he shakes his head, fisting the cotton of your tee, “Wanna feel you.”
You couldn't hide the whiney sound you made as he pulled your shirt up, fingers ghosting over your chest, nipples peaked despite the heat in the room. His lips immediately land on yours the moment your shirt hits the floor, interrupted by a harsh smack of Yunho’s teeth.
“Did I tell you to kiss her?” You keep your eyes on Mingi despite Yunho’s voice coming from behind, your boyfriend glances up with nothing but frustration in his eyes. “You’d think after already being punished once, you’d listen. I thought she was the brat?”
You smile mischievously at Mingi who releases a heavy breath, slowly standing back up, keeping a knee pressed to the bed. His voice comes out sharp as he says, “I’m sorry.”
“You wanna be touched, too?” Yunho’s voice has less of an edge to it, “Come here.”
With only a blink in response your boyfriend crawls onto the bed, moving right past you to sit with his knees spread before him. You maneuver yourself to the side, up by the pillows to get a better view, watching as Yunho pulls Mingi toward him by his throat, how their lips crash together.
Mingi moans into it– His body melts, hands falling to Yunho’s thighs, leaning into him. Yunho keeps him steady, long fingers disappearing under Mingi’s tee, pulling it up toward his chest. Mingi breaks the kiss to pull it over his head by the collar, quickly reattaching their lips with his hands tugging on Yunho's shirt with silent question.
They’re all lips and tongue, a mess of heat and passion, and you’re in awe as you watch Mingi slip Yunho’s shirt off his frame, how Yunho was clearly the one controlling Mingi’s movements, how Mingi had no idea. The two of them looked like they had been waiting for this, it was like taking the lid off a soda bottle that had been shaken, an explosion of action and release.
You kept your knees pressed together, every bone in your body urging you to press a hand between your thighs, the other to your bare chest. Yunho’s fingers tucked into Mingi’s waistband, Mingi’s hands sliding up his chest, landing on his shoulders as they moved together, a dance you didn’t know if you could have ever prepared yourself for. This was more intense than it was a week ago, than it was earlier, this was different.
Yunho pulls away from Mingi harshly, “Color?”
“Green,” he basically cries, chasing Yunho’s lips.
“Take them off,” Yunho’s voice cuts through the bubble they created, his thumbs curled around the waistband of Mingi’s shorts, tugging them down as Mingi lifts himself up on his knees. After slipping them off his feet he’s left in his briefs, staring up at Yunho with doe eyes and Yunho smiles.
He mumbles, “Cute.”
Mingi’s bottom lip pokes out, his voice breathy, coated in shame, “Touch me. Please.”
Yunho’s eyes slide to you, curled up on yourself at the top of the bed, “Do you think he deserves it?”
Your eyes widen at the question, sneaking your gaze to Mingi who looked like he might die if his cock wasn’t touched within thirty seconds. The dominant side of you wanted to say no, but the part of you that yearned to see Yunho’s hands on him replied, “Yes.”
Yunho hums, “You’re lucky your girlfriend is so sweet.”
His hand slides between Mingi’s legs, cupping his length over his briefs, and Mingi’s moan is so fucking guttural you aren’t sure if you’ve ever heard him make that sound before. Your lips part at the sight, at the sound, at how your cunt was beginning to throb between your legs, begging for stimulation.
Yunho slowly presses Mingi back against the mattress, crawling on top of him, lips pressed to his and hand stroking him over his briefs. You sit up a little straighter, watching as Mingi’s eyes fly to the back of his head, how his hips jerk into Yunho’s hand. You finally let your gaze sweep over him, drinking up each bit of pearly skin exposed to you, jealousy pooling in your gut that Mingi got to touch him.
You wanted to jump in, you wanted their hands on you, you wanted to be involved as much as you enjoyed watching them, loved hearing the song Mingi was creating with the noises that left his lips.
As if he heard your thoughts, Yunho pulled away by an inch, “Don’t you think the princess deserves to be touched too, Min?”
Mingi’s head lolled to the side, finally meeting your eye, letting you get a good look at how fucking wrecked he was. Yunho continues, “She’s been so good, sitting over there patiently while you get rewarded for being a fucking slut.”
Mingi’s eyebrows twist together, a whimper leaving his lips as Yunho grips his cock with force. Mingi’s voice is rough, raw as he whimpers out, “’m sorry.”
“No you’re not,” he sits back on Mingi’s thighs, “I don’t think you deserve anything yet.”
Mingi’s eyes nearly shoot from his head as he sits up on his elbows, voice desperate and whiny, “I’ll be good– I’ll do whatever you want, please–”
Yunho shakes his head, “She knows how to behave, you don’t.” He crawls off Mingi’s lap, sitting next to you at the top of the bed, “Think you should reward her for being so good, maybe then I’ll let you fuck her.”
“Come here baby,” he says sweetly, putting his arm out for you to crawl into his lap, where he gave you a sweet kiss before turning you around to face your boyfriend, your back against his chest. With each new movement, new position, your mind is thrown for a loop how different he feels from Mingi. With Mingi, it wouldn’t cross your mind to cringe at your sweaty back against his chest, but Yunho? It’s a steady reminder of what you were doing, where you were, who was with you.
He pulls the hair off your face, kissing the top of your head as Mingi crawls before the both of you, cheeks flushed, ears tipped red. You don’t think he’s ever been pushed this far before.
“Make her cum,” Yunho says simply, “Show me, then maybe it’ll be your turn.”
Mingi obeys, slotting himself between your thighs on his stomach, hooking his arms around your legs. You realize then that Yunho has no idea how quickly Mingi can pull you to release, he’s never seen him cum in his pants just from eating you out, it isn’t much of a punishment at all.
“Slow,” Yunho commands from behind you just as Mingi’s tongue meets your folds, your hands immediately clawing at his thighs, head colliding with his strong chest.
Mingi slowly licks up and down your slit, eyes staring up at you with desperation and love swimming in the deep brown of his gaze, lips pressing a kiss to your clit. You jerk into him, a hand flying to grab at his locks, but Yunho grabs it before you can make contact.
He kisses the top of your head again, “Don’t touch.”
You release a staggered breath, laying your rigid hands on Yunho’s thighs on either side of you, letting your hips roll into your boyfriend’s mouth. He continues, painfully slow, as if he was trying to burn the taste to memory. Yunho’s hands slide from your shoulders down to your chest, cupping your breasts, rolling your nipples between his fingers. You gasp a moan, hips bucking into your boyfriend, body squirming between the two men.
“Easy, baby,” Yunho says into your ear, his breath adding stimulation, “Focus. Want you to cum just like this.”
Your eyes squeeze shut as Mingi’s lips swirl around your clit, tongue dragging down to your entrance, prodding inside slightly. Simultaneously, Yunho’s fingers pinch at your nipples harshly, making you cry out, fingernails drawing crescents into his thighs. The pain and pleasure mix together, waking up the pit in your gut, pressure building at the base of your stomach.
Your voice comes out just above a whisper, “Feels so good, please don’t stop.”
“You hear that, Min?” Yunho asks, “She loves your mouth, baby. Look at how she’s falling apart for you.”
Mingi glances up to see your eyebrows twisted together, lips parted, back arched, nails clawing into his best friend’s skin. His hips rut against the bed at the sight, eyes fluttering shut as he gets lost in your taste, lips swirling around your clit, but he doesn’t speed up.
“Make her cum, Min. Go ahead.”
Mingi’s arm unwraps from your leg, slipping two fingers inside, curling upward so perfectly a muffled curse flies from your lips, back arching off of Yunho’s chest. He keeps you caged in with just his forearms, fingers still rolling your nipples between them, adding pressure when Mingi creates a rhythm with his fingers.
It doesn’t take long, four thrusts of Mingi’s fingers inside you, lips wrapped around your clit, your nipples between Yunho’s fingers, your orgasm ripped through you like a tidal wave. Your blood pounded against your skin as you thrashed between them, head hanging forward, repeating nonsense you weren’t sure anyone in the room could decipher.
Yunho kept you close, whispering praise into your ears, his hands dancing across every inch of bare skin, “I’ve got you, baby, there you go. Cum for me. Doing so good.”
It seemed like a millennia before you came down, chest heaving, knees wrapping around Mingi’s head before he finally let up between your thighs. Yunho shifted behind you, hard cock pressed against your back, but he seemed unaffected as he planted a short kiss to the side of your head.
“Good job, Min. Come here.”
Mingi lifts himself up to his knees, leaning forward to press a kiss to Yunho’s lips over your head. Yunho places his hand on Mingi’s chest, “You can fuck her.”
Mingi blinks at Yunho, “But you haven’t–”
“Fuck her,” Yunho repeats himself, “I’ll take her after.”
Yunho doesn’t move, he keeps you between his thighs as you twitch from overstimulation, processing what he just said. You’ve finished twice already, you were going to fuck your boyfriend, and then Yunho? You wondered if Mingi had talked up your insatiability to his best friend.
Mingi wastes no time, he peels his briefs down his legs in record speed, slotting himself between your thighs, a sweaty hand on one of your shins. The other is wrapped around his cock, beads of precum dripping from his hot red tip down his shaft, exposing how much he needed this.
“Fuck,” he huffs out as he slides his length up your folds, making your hips twitch, a hiss leaving your mouth at the overstimulation.
“Inside,” you mumble, hands lifting from Yunho’s thighs to reach for your boyfriend, landing on his shoulders to pull him closer. You both moan as he sheathes himself inside in one quick movement, keeping himself there as he licks into your mouth, his hands flying to Yunho’s knees for leverage.
“Move,” Yunho cuts in from behind you, massive palms still on your waist, a reminder that he was still the one controlling the situation.
“‘m gonna cum if I move,” he mumbles into your lips and you involuntarily clench around him at his open desperation, how easily he admitted it.
He moans, barely registering that Yunho’s hand had slipped from your waist to cover his cheek, pulling him away from your face and closer to his own. “Move,” Yunho repeats again, harsher this time, and Mingi immediately closes the distance.
Kissing Yunho and sloppily fucking into you, you stare up in awe as the reality of your situation hits you. Your hand slides down to your clit as if on command, mewls leaving your lips as you watch them, as Mingi relentlessly humps into you with no real rhythm. His mind was elsewhere, surely fuzzy, struggling to keep up with having both of you beneath him.
Your breath hitches in your throat, grabbing Yunho’s attention, and his hand is on yours in an instant, ripping your hand away from your cunt.
“I knew there was a brat in there,” he spits, “So greedy.”
You whimper as his hand finds your jaw, forcing you to look up at him where he connects your lips, all tongue and teeth, trying to keep you steady as Mingi fucks into you harder. You’re crying into Yunho’s mouth now, one hand swallowed in his, the other still on his thigh.
“I’m gonna cum,” Mingi cries, “You are so fucking hot, oh my god.”
Yunho barely breaks the kiss, “Ask me first.”
A wheeze leaves your boyfriend’s throat, of disbelief and being pushed so close to the edge. “Yunho, please. Please let me cum, please please–”
“Not yet,” Yunho lets go of your hand, letting it fall to your clit, drawing quick, dizzying circles.
Your eyes fall back while the pit returns to your stomach as if it never left, “Shit, Yunho, fuck, you’re gonna make me cum too–”
“No patience,” he hisses, “No structure, you don't know how to earn what you want.”
You and Mingi are heaving, pleas leaving your lips one after another, both of you a mess of jumbled words and audible breathing. You miss how Yunho smiles, you could see how much he enjoyed this from his face alone, having you both a mess between him. He loved to break his partners apart, and to then put them back together all in the same session, you and Mingi were perfect for him.
“Okay,” Yunho drawls out slowly just as you begin to tip over the edge, “Cum for me.”
The sounds in the room were deafening, yours and Mingi’s cries bleeding together like an orchestra, peeling at the edges of Yunho’s restraint. He takes deep breaths as you and Mingi curl into each other, as Mingi fills you up, as you clench around his cock. He can see all of it, he can feel it in the way you go stiff in his hold, as Mingi presses his forehead to yours, hips stilling inside you.
Yunho lets you come down for a moment, lets Mingi pull out and fall to the mattress before he’s tipping your jaw upward, “Color?”
You blink at him for a second, voice coming out tired, “Green.”
Yunho pauses, eyes searching for something in yours, before scrunching his lips ever so slightly. “You’re gonna ride me,” he keeps his eyes on yours, “Need you to pay attention, eyes open. Can you do that for me?”
You nod, and he presses into your jaw a little harder. You sputter, “Y-Yes, I can do that. Yes.”
He pauses, and then his hands are on you again. He flips you over in a quick motion, placing you on your knees on his lap so he can pull his pants and briefs down his legs, kicking them off to the side. Your eyes widen as his cock slaps against his stomach, hard and red, leaking just like Mingi’s was minutes ago.
Thinner than Mingi’s but slightly longer, your heart dropped for a moment. It took you months to be able to take Mingi with minimal prep, to take Mingi and then take someone bigger than him? You suck in a harsh breath.
“You can do it, baby,” Yunho nods, “I’ve got you the whole time. We’ll take it slow.”
Your eyes find his and they read nothing but determination, yet there was a softness at the edges, a flicker of light that told you he’d catch you if you fell. The second of locked eyes relights the fire in your belly, and he can see it all over you, how your back straightens, as you pull your hair to one side in focus. You can do it, and you would. Head feeling clearer, you inch forward, planting your thighs on either side of his.
“There you go,” he encourages, warm hands sliding from your hips to your waist as you reach down to grab his length, lining it up with your center, “Let me feel that pussy around my cock.”
You’re moaning before he’s even inside you, his words going straight to your head. You sink down on him slowly, tasting the slight stretch on your tongue, gaping at Yunho who finally cracked.
Eyebrows twisted, lips parted, fingers gripping your waist harshly, you would smile proudly if you could, knowing you were the one giving him pleasure now. You sit there for a second, marveling at how deep he reached inside you, hands perched on his shoulders like you belonged there.
“So deep,” was all you could muster, face inches from Yunho’s, breathing in his air. With the feeling of his soft skin under your palms combining with how he felt inside you, you knew you wouldn’t last long. You feared you might not even get your fill.
“Taking it so good already,” his head hit the headboard, throat on display, demeanor changing entirely, “Knew you would, I can see it all over you.”
You lift yourself slowly, pressing your chest to his as you start at a slow, agonizing pace. The drag of his length inside your walls had your eyes squeezing shut, fingers pressing into his shoulders, toes curling beside his thighs. You swore you could feel each vein, the curve of his cock working perfectly in your favor, your mind went blank at the feeling.
“Feels good?” He asks, bringing a hand to your jaw, forcing your eyes on his. You nodded in his grip, and a smile took over his face, the smile he looked at Mingi with earlier, one that told you were in trouble. His voice comes out sharp as he says, “I can see it in your eyes, I know very well what a cockslut looks like.”
Your whimper is completely involuntary as his hands slip back down, your head lolling forward at his words. He grips your waist, picking up the pace despite the noises ripping from your throat, “Pretended to be good tonight, I know what you are.”
His words hit your gut like a slap to the face and your lips curled upward lazily, words slurring, “What’s that?”
“A whore,” he spits, eyes deep as night, the same hand traveling back up to your throat to pull you closer to his face, “I can feel you clenching around my cock, what my words are doing to you. You were made to take cock, weren’t you? Mine, Mingi’s, you’d take us at the same time if we asked, wouldn’t you?”
You moan as his fingers grip either side of your throat, squeezing. You mumble out a breathy, soft, “Yes.”
He snickers as your hips pick up on their own, ignoring the burn in your thighs, addicted to how close he was to kissing your cervix, how the head of his cock massaged your walls. He pulls you even closer to him by your throat, his head cast over your shoulder, “Come here, Min. Give her what she wants.”
You couldn’t see him behind you, but you felt his back press up against you as Yunho fucks up into you. Electricity surged through your veins the moment your skin made contact, “Min, he feels so fucking good.”
“Yeah?” Your boyfriend says in your ear, his hands ghosting over your waist, fingers tickling your skin. “You look so fucking sexy riding him, baby.”
As Mingi speaks, Yunho presses into the sides of your throat, the praise, degradation, loss of air all mixing together, waking up the pit in your belly, your eyes falling shut in pleasure.
“Eyes open,” Yunho’s words cut through the fog in your head, your eyes opening again on command, hands flying behind you to claw at Mingi’s thighs.
His hands find your hips, Mingi’s hands laying on top, the two of them bouncing you on his length together, it was too overwhelming to stay clear. Blinking, hazy, you let your head fall backward, landing on Mingi’s chest.
“Feels so good,” you breathe out, voice hoarse, “I can’t, I can’t.”
“Yes you can,” Yunho answers, his voice rougher now, you could hear the pleasure flowing through him, how close he was getting.
He’s fucking up into you more than you’re riding him now, his pace brutal, the tip of him sliding against that spongy spot in your walls with every thrust. It was more than pleasure, how quickly release built up inside you, from his words and his hands and your boyfriend all over you, it was borderline too much.
Mingi steals your lips, muffling your cries, one of his hands holding your cheek up as the other dips down between your legs, working his fingers in tight circles around your clit.
“Yes, that’s it,” Yunho huffs, “Greedy pussy wants to cum around another cock.”
Your hips bend at the stimulation, his words, body lurching forward as each syllable adds more pressure in your gut, your orgasm on your tongue. Your weight was fully in Mingi’s hands to hold you up, in Yunho’s to keep you riding his cock, you didn’t have control over one bone, one muscle, and God did it feel so fucking good.
“Yunho, please,” you cry, pulling yourself away from your boyfriend’s lips, “Can I cum?”
“Look at that,” Yunho cooes in response, “She remembered to ask for permission.”
You didn’t know what sounds were leaving you, so close you could fucking taste it, pressure pounding in your ears. Your pleas come out under your breath, as if you didn’t have the strength to summon your voice anymore.
Yunho doesn’t answer, you could only hear his staggered breathing as he fucked into you faster, his hips stuttering, fingers holding onto your waist with a death grip. Mingi kept the pace on your clit, his own voice taut as he said, “Cum inside her.”
“Yes yes yes,” your voice returned, eyelids low as you looked at Yunho, still teetering on the edge, “Inside, please, fill me up.”
Yunho’s eyebrows were in his hairline, the only depiction of him losing his composure as he stared back at the two of you, his voice shallow, “Yeah?”
“Please!” You squealed as your eyes screwed shut, bottom lip sliding between your teeth as if that’d delay your orgasm any further.
“Cum,” Yunho ordered, his voice sharp but tight, as if his release would follow a moment later. Mingi couldn’t catch you as your body folded completely, the pressure finally blowing, a force ripping through you entirely.
Yunho’s groan could have had you cumming again if you weren’t slumped over his shoulder, Mingi’s hand stuck between your bodies as Yunho chased his own orgasm, hips bucking wildly into you before they stuttered, warmth filling you immediately, a moan tumbling out of his lips.
It felt like an eternity before anyone moved. Mingi eventually took his hand back from between your bodies, slumping on the bed beside you, his eyes half open.
Yunho’s hands started traveling up your back, only using his fingertips to trace shapes along your skin, drawing on your spine to keep you conscious.
The room stayed silent for a while, only the sound of breathing and the air conditioner filling the space, you needed the time to breathe. To feel, to process, to fully come down, to put the pieces together that you had just fucked Jeong Yunho and he came inside you. At your boyfriend’s command. At your agreement.
The air still felt warm, the body wrapped around you even warmer. A smile crept onto your lips at the realization of what just happened, how much you enjoyed it, how much you already wanted more. Maybe insatiable wasn’t the word anymore, maybe it really was greed, but the way the word rolled off Yunho’s tongue made it sound like a compliment.
“What are you feeling?” His voice made you jump, a short hiss leaving his lips, and you realized he was still inside you.
“Shit, hold on,” you mumbled as you slowly peeled yourself off of him, sitting back on your hips, hands on his shoulders to lift yourself off of his cock.
You both breathed through the loss, but he pulled you back into him as soon as his cock fell limp against his pelvis. You reached for Mingi as you searched for words in your head— How did you feel?
“Full,” you responded as you found your boyfriend’s arm, pulling him towards you, needing his warmth, too.
Yunho hummed beneath you, “Any discomfort?”
Mingi snuggled up to Yunho’s side, his face showing no signs of regret or discontent, he looked blissed out, exhausted. You smiled at the sight.
You shook your head against Yunho’s chest, reveling in how his chest pressed against your cheek, “Feel good.”
“Good,” Yunho’s fingertips fell to your back again, dancing along your skin, “Do you want to wash up? Lay here for a while?”
You moan your disagreement, “Just a few more minutes.”
“Mingi?” He asked, one of his hands falling to your boyfriend’s hair, and one of his eyes peel open. “Do you need anything? Water?”
Mingi lets his eye close again, eyebrows raised to show he was listening, “Just wanna lay here.”
You could feel Yunho smile into your hair as you stare at your half conscious boyfriend, and the warmth flooding every ounce of your blood couldn’t just be from the fact that you all just had sex. The feeling of comfort consumed you head to toe, like you were right where you were supposed to be.
Yunho’s hand paused against your skin and you could hear the churning in his mind, the words on his tongue. You hummed as if to say What’s up?
“I’ve never slept with a couple before,” he admits freely, “I’ve wanted to, like this, for a long time, but never had the chance.”
You look up at him and there’s nothing but fondness in his eyes. He smiles, and it’s devoid of every nasty thing that left his mouth minutes ago, “I’m happy it was you guys, I’m happy you trust me. I know you don’t let people in when it comes to your relationship.”
“It’s not that we don’t let people in, we both agree that our friend group doesn’t need to know our every move,” you explain, an unspoken pact the two of you made when you overheard Sana talking about Jihyo and Jongo’s relationship. “You’re different, though. You share a lot with us and we spend a lot of time together, of course we trust you.”
He pauses again like he’s still searching for something he can’t find, “After we clean up and stuff, I wanna talk, I wanna know how you feel. Mingi, too.”
“I think Mingi needs another ten minutes before he can use his head,” you smile as you slide your gaze to look over your boyfriend again, still curled up on Yunho’s side with his eyes softly shut, probably fast asleep by now. You bring your attention back to Yunho, “I meant it when I said I feel good, Yun.”
“It wasn’t too much?”
“Not at all,” you shake your head, “There’s still more I want to explore.”
He smiles all teeth like relief just flushed through his veins, “I still have more to show you.”
“I don’t think you even covered all the bases to begin with,” you pull back, raising your brows, amusement in your tone. “You have plenty to show us, and I don’t think either of us are done with you yet.”
“No,” Mingi grumbles from beside you, his eyes not opening, body not even moving an inch, “We’re doing that again.”
Sleep hadn’t quite left you when Yunho pulled his arm from under your waist, you could feel the apprehension in his movement, no matter how smooth and slow he tried to be, a loss of warmth that massive had your eyes peeling back, head turning around in question.
“Sorry,” he mumbled, voice high and breathy, you could have sworn he was still asleep. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
You sucked in a breath of consciousness, “Are you leaving?”
He slides off the bed in one quick motion, sweatpants hanging loose on his hips, his shirt still on your bedroom floor somewhere. “I have to meet my mom,” his eyes were glued to the hardwood beneath his feet, searching, you assumed. “I didn’t really plan to stay over.”
“Oh,” you respond, flipping over now, an elbow pressed to the mattress, supporting your weight. A yawn rips through your chest, your other arm stretching above you, “What time is it?”
“Eight? Maybe a little after,” his voice is still coated in exhaustion as he slips the tee over his head, eyes still searching the floor for whatever else he’d left scattered amongst your clothes. “We’re getting breakfast.”
“That’s nice,” you’re blinking, body still slowed with sleep, the ache in your bones just beginning to sink in. “Well, have a good time. Mingi and I say hello.”
Yunho pauses with one sock on one foot, a grin just barely present, “Thanks, I’ll make sure to tell her.”
You smile, eyes half lidded as he gets his other sock on, stumbling with lack of balance. It didn’t quite sink in yet after a few hours of sleep and an abrupt awakening, what Yunho was leaving after, what you had done. It felt like another movie night, too many drinks, Yunho leaving early after knocking out on your couch.
“Well,” he breathed, clothed and nearing complete consciousness, “I’ll call you guys later.”
You nod, “Okay, we’ll be here.”
He was at the other end of your hallway within seconds.
You sank into your bed once more, turning to attach yourself to your boyfriend, one leg hurled over his waist, an arm over his chest. You nuzzled into his warmth, cheek on his shoulder, eyes closed, body still somewhere between awake and asleep.
Mingi groans, his head turning, hands clasping over your arm that laid over his chest. His voice a soft growl, deep and grumbled with slumber, “Yunho leave?”
You hummed, “Just left.”
“I didn’t get to say bye,” you could see his pout without opening your eyes, “He snuck out.”
“He’s meeting his mom for breakfast.”
“Ah,” he yawns, arms stretching out to cage you in, pulling you closer into his chest. “How do you feel?”
You sink your forehead into his neck, cheek pressed to his chest, arms curled into yourself, “Good, I guess, I just woke up, I don’t know.”
“Does anything hurt?” He presses his lips to your hair in a quick kiss, “Sore?”
“Kinda,” your voice is muffled by his skin, “Barely. What about you?”
“I feel great,” you could feel him smile into your hair, a wide grin of full lips and lopsided teeth, your favorite.
You giggle into his chest, then peel your head away to get a look at his face, beautiful and yours. “I’m sure you do, baby.”
His brows furrow, “You don’t?”
You shake your head against his bicep, “Of course I do, last night was incredible.”
“It really was,” a relieved breath leaves his lips, “I can’t believe we did that.”
“With Yunho, of all people,” you agree, “I’m really glad we did it, though. With him.”
Mingi leans down to press a soft kiss against your lips and you immediately cup one of his cheeks with your palm, keeping him there, wanting to kiss him longer. He follows your lead, soft, plump lips swallowing yours between his, no intent behind it, just kissing because you love it. Love him.
“I love you,” you slip your thoughts into his mouth, “You’re so perfect.”
He smiles against your lips, “I love you too, baby. You can’t be serious about having sex, if that’s where this is heading…”
You laugh straight from your chest, arms swinging around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer. “No, silly, I just wanna kiss you ‘cuz I love you.”
He cooes, one of his arms sliding down to your thigh wrapped around his torso, holding it tighter against him, “I’m so lucky.”
“We’re so lucky,” you correct him, “We have each other, and now we have Yunho when neither of us feels like topping. Kinda cool.”
“You say that like he’ll be at our beck and call.”
“He might be,” you shrug, arms still wrapped around his shoulders, “I think he had fun. Especially with you.”
Mingi’s lips pressed together, cheeks flushing on command, “He knew exactly how to toy with me, he was pushing every button he could find.”
“I think you two kissing is burned into my memory for life,” you let go of his shoulders, body turning to lay in your back, eyes closed in bliss, a warm smile on your cheeks.
He lets his upper body stretch over you, face inches from yours, “How about how fast he made you cum that first time? I’ve never seen you fall apart so quickly.”
Your eyes shoot open, “What do you mean you’ve ‘never seen’ it? You make me cum that fast, like, on a daily basis.”
Mingi’s forehead drops to your bare chest with a giggle passing through his lips, “Maybe I wasn’t expecting him to be that good. With you, I mean. Took me a minute to figure you out.”
“He’s probably slept with more people than us combined,” your hands find his hair, mindlessly running your fingers through onyx locks that shoot up every which way, “He was just as good with you, he pushed you more than I ever have, for sure. You made sounds I’ve never heard you make before.”
Mingi groans, cheek falling flat against your sternum, eyes fluttering shut, “We agree that he’s coming back, right?”
“We agreed last night, I think,” you let your eyes close again, basking in Mingi’s warmth against you, letting your body appreciate the comfort of your mattress.
“He’s not gonna take that for what it was,” Mingi mumbles, “He wants us all clear-headed and shit.”
A huff of amusement passes through your lips, “He covers all his bases, I like it. Makes me feel safe.”
“Me too,” Mingi pauses, hands resting on your waist. “How soon is too soon?”
“Oh no,” you tease, voicing the dramatic effect, “You’re turning into me.”
“I think you could hold the world record for your insatiability. Is that a word?”
“I think it’s a word.”
“Well, your sex drive is otherworldly.”
“Is that a word?”
“You get the point.”
The morning air always felt more crisp in town— the bite of night shedding from the sky, the sun’s warmth crackling through by the minute, when daytime hadn’t fully thawed yet. It felt entirely different than the sunrise you wake up to before work, harsh and freezing, begging you to sink into your sheets and succumb to slumber once more. Hand in hand with Mingi, you strolled through the farmer’s market just outside of your neighborhood, picking up produce for the week, something you didn’t do often enough.
You loved it here. Talking with shop owners, haggling for a good price, feeling the sunshine on your skin, spending quality time with Mingi that wasn’t in the bedroom or on your couch. Tents beaming blues and reds cascaded off of sun rays, chatter in the air, distant music from a few stops back, you and Mingi weaved through people as you walked down the busy street, two full bags already in his hand.
It was never just fruits and veggies.
There was a cute shop selling jewelry, you had to pick up the necklace with the intricate opal pendant. Another shop selling decor for your kitchen, the custom made stained oak cutting board was yours. Mingi happened to pause at the right time before a shop with boards littered with keychains, pendants and buttons, he ended up purchasing a bundle of all three.
You hadn’t even reached the produce section yet and you were coming close to your budget, but with the wind in your hair and your boyfriend’s palm pressed to yours, you didn’t care.
“What do we need again?” Mingi half turned to you, stray hairs swept across his cheeks, dainty frames on the bridge of his nose. Edible even in his most comfortable clothing, he looked stunning, cozy for the brisk summer morning.
“Berries, peaches, tomatoes, zucchini,” you counted on the fingers of your free hand, “Oh shit, don’t let me forget eggplant. I wanna try a new recipe this week.”
He let your linked fingers guide him, head flying toward a tent and letting his vision linger as you strolled past, “We can’t get any more trinkets, right?”
You tilt your head, coming to a pause, “We don’t need peaches that bad.”
He turns to you, eyebrows raised, excitement written on his cheeks, “They have rings over there.”
“That’s fair,” you nod, “They didn’t have any you liked at the other place. Let’s go.”
Weaving through the oncoming traffic of people, Mingi guided you into the small tent, black velvet boards holding golds and silvers covered the space of three long tables, a shop solely for rings. Oh, you think Mingi might faint.
Your grin stretches wide as his eyes bounce back and forth between tables, unsure of where to start first, a kid in a candy shop.
You nod toward the owner who sat in a lawn chair behind the center table, “Good morning.”
“Good morning,” she smiles, an older woman in denim jeans and a muted pink blouse, gray hair curling around the frame of her cheeks. “All rings are buy three, get two free.”
You and Mingi lock eyes, both repeating, “Five.”
Perfectly timed giggles from your lips followed after, thinking the same thing, it seemed five really was a lucky number for you. You searched the table opposite of Mingi, eyes catching on dainty metals with gems encased in glittering stones, fingers reaching out to touch the hand-carved bands with suns, moons and stars.
You picked one up, twisting it between your fingers, slipping it onto your ring finger. Beautiful and mind-blowingly intricate, you think your eyes might be sparkling as much as the silver catching on the gleam of sunlight passing through the tent. It was beautiful.
“Oh,” a familiar voice rips you out of your trance, shoulders sitting back in their sockets, back straightening in surprise. “Hey guys.”
You whip around to face him, lips parted in shock and he’s already smiling, his arm bent out in front of him to wave a hand. Your world slips from beneath your feet.
It was like you were seeing him for the first time all over again. The sun encasing him in a whirl of golden, his hair was different now, the blue of his blue-black electric, feathered and poking from beneath his ears. Dressed in loose linen, a tote bag hanging from his shoulder, he was summer incarnate, chest peeking through the buttons, you blinked rapidly, one thought on repeat in your mind.
Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.
Mingi’s already dapping him up, his voice loud in greeting, hand clasping around his back. You haven’t seen him since that night, being just days ago, you didn’t think about what it would feel like. How your body would react. Nothing could have prepared you to feel like this.
“What are you doing here?” You ask with a smile you slapped on your cheeks, surprise in your tone, moving forward once Mingi pulled you away.
Yunho pulls you into a short hug, his scent immediately slipping into your nose, your skin, your bones. His arm was hot as it wrapped around you, a sheen of light sweat clinging to his visible forehead, his cheekbones, his hair swept back.
“Picking up a few things,” he lifts the tote bag on his shoulder, “You too?”
You nod, “You changed your hair.”
One of his hands immediately flies to his head, pale fingers swimming through locks, “It was too light, too much maintenance. This is easier.”
“I like it,” you’re positive you’re flushed, body warm, fingers mindlessly playing with the ring you’d picked up before the earth cracked open.
“You busy?” Mingi asked, “We have more shopping to do, maybe you can keep us from buying things we did not come here for.”
Yunho laughs, a small chuckle rolling off his tongue, deep and sultry and God what is going on in your chest?
“I have time,” he steps further into the tent, observing the rings on display, eyes landing on the one between your fingers. He puts his palm out and you place the silver band in the center, “Is this one of the things you didn’t come here for?”
The corner of your lips lift in a smile, heartbeat picking up in your chest, “Unfortunately. Pretty though, right?”
“Very,” he nods, placing the ring back in your palm after taking in every detail, eyes meeting yours. “You should get it.”
You’re manually breathing now, sucking deep breaths down to the base of your ribs as you tear your gaze from his, turning around to face the rings again, body on fire as if you were basking in afternoon sun. “If Mingi doesn’t pick out five, maybe. They’re buy three get two free.”
“He’s gonna pick out five,” amusement is laced in his words, his voice gets quieter as he walks toward your boyfriend, “Looks like he has about ten already picked out.”
“I’m gonna narrow it down!” Mingi defends himself as you tuck the band between the velvet rolls again, “Process of elimination.”
You turn on your heel, coming up to the opposite side of where Yunho stood next to Mingi, the two of you flanking him, looking over his shoulders. Several silver circles laid in his cupped palm, some intricate, all so very him. Skulls, pendants and simple ones he has five of at home, your lips curled at his taste, his consistency. So predictable it was endearing.
“You have a million of these,” Yunho reads your mind, his pointer finger twirling in the sea of silver, picking up a basic band. “Get something you don’t already have.”
Mingi pouts. “It’s engraved on the inside.”
“No one will see that.”
“I’ll know it’s there!”
Your giggle runs flat while they bicker, shaking your head as you peel away from them, walking up to another table, eyes laying over the jewelry on display but not seeing any of it. You weren’t just looking at Yunho anymore, Mingi’s best friend, your good friend of years. You were looking at Jeong Yunho, the man who’s filled you up, said nasty words in your ear, had his palm wrapped around your throat.
You release a heavy breath, blinking at nothing, fingers curling at the pockets of your pants. These feelings had to be stemming from the rush of that night, you were definitely still riding the high, there is no other plausible reason for there to be a pit this damning in your gut. There’s no other reason for you to be picturing him beneath you, his heavy palms on your hips rocking you along his length, a half-smile playing on his spit-glazed lips.
It was purely attraction. Just because you had sex.
If you could use more than a singular brain cell, you might have been able to notice Yunho toeing on the same line you were. Granted, he’s a lot better at hiding it.
Two hands held onto the strap of his tote directly in front of him, body still leaned in over Mingi’s shoulder, wishing he could prop his chin on the muscle as Mingi figured out which rings he was buying.
“I like that one,” Yunho nodded at the chunky silver ring with the skull engraved in the center, “Get that one.”
“But do we like this one,” Mingi held up the skull, and then held up another ring with a vintage gothic cross design, “More than this one?”
Yunho hummed, his head tilting to the side, chin centimeters from brushing Mingi’s shoulder, “You’re right. Get the cross.”
Mingi smiles, an excited noise falling from his lips, and Yunho can feel the pit of warmth pooling in his stomach as the noise graces his ears. He reveals nothing on his face, not as Mingi takes two steps toward the owner of the shop, not as you lay your head on his bicep with a smile full of love as he pays.
He was really barking up the wrong tree this time.
You two are perfect together, Yunho knows that down to his soul, he’s seen your happiest moments, your nastiest arguments. Where Mingi is reserved, you’re stepping forward to give him the space to hide, where Mingi is loud and obnoxious you’re the anchor grounding him back down to earth. Yunho knows this, he’s seen it in action, he’s picked apart every subtle movement of body language for years now whether it was on purpose or involuntarily.
Maybe he shouldn’t sleep with you guys again. Maybe he should leave it for what it was.
He feels like a deer caught in headlights as you both turn around with satisfied, content grins on your cheeks. Happiness radiates off of the two of you, Mingi because of his new rings, you because he purchased something he loves.
Epitome of perfection. He shakes it off. Definitely not sleeping together again.
“We should probably actually get the produce we came here for,” you say, voice light and airy as you meet where Yunho stands, urging him to walk alongside you.
He falls into step, the mask already on, a facade he’s practiced for a decade. He doesn’t show an inkling of true emotion, instead he smirks, a side of his lips lifting, “I already failed at keeping you on track.”
Mingi’s hand rests on Yunho’s shoulder and his skin burns beneath his palm, “I fear nothing could have come between me and those rings. Not your fault.”
Yunho chuckles as the three of you weave your way through the crowd. Yunho had finished his shopping ages ago, he hadn’t come here for anything specific, just random shopping on a Wednesday morning. On his way out is when he saw you two huddled up in the tent, and he couldn’t control his feet as they pulled him beneath the polyester covering.
“Zucchini, tomatoes, berries, we took peaches off the list…” You’re counting on your fingers, eyebrows furrowed, eyes zeroed in on your hands, not on the mass of people before you or the ground beneath your feet. “… What am I forgetting?”
You look up to Mingi with eyes that screamed innocence, a gentle glint in the shape which reflected something like a doe. Yunho slowed his steps as you glanced at your fingers again, slipping behind the two of you, keeping an eye on everything you weren’t.
“Some kinda vegetable,” Mingi responds, his back stretching high so he could see over the crowd, eyeing the stands of fruits and veggies on either side of you.
“Shit,” you curse and it sounds so wrong coming from those pretty lips of yours, “I can’t remember. I told you to remember!”
Mingi’s smile is sheepish, “I got distracted by the rings.”
Yunho can hear how your sneaker skids on the pavement and his arm is hooking under your elbow before your body is thrown forward even an inch, tucking you backward into himself.
“Good catch,” Mingi’s grin is humorously wide, as if that was the coolest thing he’d ever seen.
You’re staring up at him with bug eyes from his chest, surprise and naivety etched into every bend and arch of your features. “Thank you, I wasn’t paying attention.”
Yunho smiles, proud of himself, “Saw that coming. Eyes up.”
You hold his gaze with a soft nod and Yunho releases your arm quickly, too quickly, as if he’d catch whatever you have if he held on for too long. You notice, he can see that you noticed, he wished he could say that having you pressed up against him for too long would result in Mingi plummeting him into the pavement. But he watches how your widened eyes shift into horror, discomfort, how you take a step back, clearing your throat.
“Eggplant,” you whisper, surprise returning to your eyes, neck snapping to look at Mingi again, “It was eggplant! Remember this time.”
“I will, I swear.”
You all know he won’t.
Colorful tents stood packed together on either side of the street you walked along, wooden crates full of vegetables, bushel baskets of fruits, the air growing thicker with humidity as the sun came to a full rise above you. It felt like Yunho was under a spotlight as he trailed in a window behind you, left with his thoughts and strange feelings, the sweat on his forehead not fully from the summer sun.
He watches as your left arm slides into the pocket of Mingi’s elbow, Mingi’s left hand holding your bags, your right arm reaching to rest on his forearm as you approach a fruit stand. The pit in his stomach returns with vengeance, accompanied by a sting of jealousy, a discomforting wave of confusion.
Yunho had very rarely found potential for real, true relationships in his life. He had a long list of scene partners, men and women he’s played with, people he’s seen for an elongated amount of time because they worked— but he never saw himself with them long term.
Yunho often wondered if he’d ever find something like what you have with Mingi. Weeks spent on your couch, in your apartment, watching you two from the corner of his eye, wondering if the roles might ever be reversed. Would you two ever come over to his apartment, that he shared with a partner? Would he ever find someone that could check off all his boxes, fulfill his deepest fantasies?
As you always say, the partners that were good for him, he didn’t want. The very rare times he could see potential with a partner, he let them go before it could ever become real. There was always something missing, a puzzle piece left outside of the box, a reason for him to leave even if he couldn’t put his finger on it.
That night with the two of you… It was the closest he’s ever felt to understanding. When people say things feel right, he’s always left out of the conversation, the oddball who’s never felt something that real, but with you two? With your twin doe eyes and submission you so eagerly handed over, the trust you have in him, how you put your pleasure in his hands entirely? A perfect dynamic he somehow weaseled into, and accidentally found a home.
He’s been waiting for something to feel that raw for a long time. Now, standing behind you, watching you move in routine, a relationship that’s been growing stronger for years, the pit in Yunho’s stomach wondered if there would ever be room for him beyond your bedroom.
Glutton for punishment, as you say. Yunho guesses he can’t deny it anymore.
“I got three for four bucks,” you say excitedly as you skip back towards him, thankfully ripping him from his spiral, holding three cartons of raspberries in your hands.
Mingi opens the shopping bag as he comes to your side, and you carefully place each carton atop one another, your hair falling over your cheeks as you bend forward.
He misses touching your hair.
“You haggle at the farmer’s market?” He asks, amusement in his voice, because the farmer’s market was already cheap.
Your head turns, your hair flipping over your shoulder, your eyebrows furrowed in offense. “They allow me to haggle. I wouldn’t do it if I couldn’t.”
Yunho meets Mingi’s eye and he’s already smiling, head shaking as if he’s already had this conversation, already fought you on it, this was just you.
He wished he watched it happen, he’s been waiting to see the brat he knew lived inside your sweet facade.
“What’s left?” Yunho asks, ignoring his own thoughts, “Zucchini, eggplant, tomatoes?”
“Eggplant first so I don’t forget,” you hold up a finger, already lacing your fingers on your free hand between Mingi’s, feet moving in front of the other.
Yunho falls behind again, hands gripping his tote bag so hard he was positive his knuckles were turning red.
You beeline to the left and Yunho sees the cart full of zucchini and tomatoes over your heads, a smile tugs on his lips that you were so focused on one thing yet it was the only thing that kept escaping your mind. Cute, he thinks, so fucking cute.
He follows this time, and you’re already mid-conversation with the shop owner by the time he arrives at Mingi’s side, curating some kind of deal for purchasing both zucchini and tomatoes.
“Our prices are fixed,” the man, mid-fifties Yunho would guess, stood with his shoulders back, his jaw locked. Gray hair, lines etched into the skin beside his eyes, a red cap on his head. He must work in the sun.
“How fixed?” You tilt your head, your ankles crossing, a sweet smile on your face. “I’ll buy a good amount for a good price.”
“Three dollars per pound,” his palms point to the array of greens and reds before him, “Have at it.”
You pout, glancing up at Mingi and Yunho momentarily before beginning to gather the vegetables in your hands, analyzing each one, squeezing, smelling. Yunho chokes on a laugh.
“Organic?” You ask, and the man nods. You pop a brow, “You sure?”
“Grow ‘em myself,” he exhales sharply. Yunho glances at Mingi and pink kisses his cheeks, bending over the curve of his nose, hidden behind his hair that’s gotten longer than it's been in ages. Yunho thinks his heart might actually explode.
You somehow talk the man into three zucchini and three tomatoes for ten dollars and he’s red in the face before you’re handing the money over, a satisfied smile on yours, and Yunho curses himself for missing it again. Maybe he was staring at Mingi for longer than he thought.
“Come on, you two,” you sing-song, the bag already pressed into Mingi’s palm as you begin for the crowd in front of you again, slipping between people.
Four stands go by, five with no sign of the purple fruit, the two of you in conversation before Yunho, chatting about dinner later, he thinks. Neither of you are even looking at the stands on either side of you, too engrossed in each other, too deep in whatever was leaving your mouths.
It was only Yunho who was keeping his eye out for what you needed. It put a bitter taste in his mouth.
Yet he ignored it, because he had no right to feel that way. He wasn’t a part of your relationship, he spent one night with you, that’s it. The only night he would ever spend with you, because he sure as hell wasn’t sinking any deeper then where he stood now.
A shadow of purple caught his eye, and his neck snapped to the right.
Eggplant. Finally. He could leave after this.
The two of you walked ahead.
“Guys,” Yunho calls, but neither of you hear him.
“Guys there’s eggplant—”
Nothing. Frustration curls in his gut.
“Guys!” Mingi’s head tips back in laughter at something you said, his Adam's apple carved out of his throat, skin gleaming under the sunshine.
Yunho takes a breath and curls his lip to push a clear, piercing whistle through his lips.
You both stop, turning in the same motion, eyes big and shining, waiting. It sends a shiver down his spine, it sends him back to days ago, with you both on your baby pink comforter, waiting for him to give you directions, completely thoughtless. So fucking submissive it makes his cock jump in his pants.
Yunho points his thumb to his right, “Eggplant.”
Your eyes light up, a grin taking over each one of your features as you rip your hand from Mingi’s and nearly skip over to the stand. Mingi takes a second, keeping his eyes locked on Yunho, his thoughts so readable he might as well have said them out loud.
He knew exactly where that whistle came from, what Yunho intended with it. He knew what Yunho was thinking, too.
Mingi’s lips curl at the corner, sly and knowing, and then he’s following you to the fruit stand without a word.
Yunho pushes a steady breath from his lips, letting his eyes close for a moment, grounding himself against the pavement beneath him.
He’s never been put in this position before. Being interested in not one, but two people, who are in a relationship already, and those two people pulling feelings from his gut that he wouldn’t dare ever speak out loud.
He could not share your bed again.
“Do you really think we can ask him to fuck us again tonight?” Two days after your run to the farmer’s market, you had only one concern before Yunho arrived at your apartment for movie night. A dreamy look sat on your face from across the kitchen, wiping down the last corner of your counter, “There was no mention of fucking at the farmer’s market.”
“I don’t think the farmer’s market at nine in the morning is the right place or the right time to discuss fucking,” Mingi says plainly with a shrug from your kitchen table, his face glued to his phone.
Normally, you’d agree, but the way he looked at you, how he dropped your arm as if it burned him, how detached he seemed by the time he left you at the market. It didn’t help that all of these feelings curled in your gut, ones you couldn’t share with Mingi, ones you wouldn’t even face before you fell asleep at night.
You stand with a hand on your hip, one leg crossed over the other, back pressed against your kitchen counter. “Yeah, but he didn’t even flirt with us.”
Mingi rips his attention away from his phone to stare you down with slanted eyebrows, “He didn’t need to.”
You whine, head tipping back, slapping the towel against your thigh, “I don’t think he wants to.”
“Ask him when he gets here then,” Mingi pushes himself off the chair, walking to where you stood against the counter, running his palms over your shoulders, giving you a small squeeze. “If he doesn’t, then he doesn’t, but I’m willing to bet that he does.”
You think maybe a part of you was hoping he didn’t want to— even if you wanted to so, so badly. What sat in the bottom of your stomach terrified you, those thoughts left unacknowledged, what they could turn into if you fed them.
But the bigger part of you, most of you, needed him again. It whispered in your ear, urging you to keep your feelings private, that you could bury them easily if you needed to, you belonged to Mingi. That would never change.
“Okay,” you whispered, and Mingi dropped down to plant a kiss on your forehead before he was walking to the living room to lounge on the couch.
You stared at the tile beneath your feet, a thousand scenarios running through your mind. Why did he touch you as if he wanted nothing to do with you? Could you face him, ask such a vulnerable question, and accept the rejection?
Was he feeling a shred of the insecurity you were feeling right now?
There was no sign of a knock before your front door opened with a muted groan, followed by the sound of plastic moving around, shoes hitting the hardwood in your foyer.
Your heart dropped to your ass.
“I’m here,” he called out, voice smooth as butter, “I brought presents.”
You moved towards the counter to see out into your living room just as Mingi questioned, “Presents?”
Yunho wore a satisfied smile as he walked through your living room, a plastic bag in his hand, black hair swept back as he came to a stop before your kitchen counter. You met his eye, heart still threatening to slip into your pants as he placed the bag on the laminate.
“I should have said goodies or something, snacks aren’t much of a present,” he says as Mingi comes up behind him, leaning on the counter just beside him.
“Snacks are the best present,” you throw the towel on the counter beside you, hands immediately going for the bag.
You furrowed your brows in confusion as you ripped open the plastic as if it were Christmas morning, eyes widening as you saw your favorite snack inside. “Yunho!” You gasped, a pout taking over your cheeks, “You guys don’t eat these.”
“So what?” he waves his hand, his brows bent together, body leaned up against the countertop, “You can’t have your favorite because we don’t like them? Bullshit.”
It’s not that you couldn’t have them, you just always bought what the three of you could share for movie night, things you all enjoyed. Your cheeks flushed, “Thank you.”
Yunho turns to Mingi, pulling out two bags of chips the two of them demolished weekly, “I didn’t forget about you, don’t get all pouty.”
You smile at your boyfriend who turned away in embarrassment, “I was not pouting.”
Your giggle echoes through the kitchen as you pull out bowls from your cabinet, sliding one toward Yunho who was already ripping open the bag of chips he shared with Mingi. An hour later, the three of you were cozied up on your couch, you in the middle.
Before the three of you ended up tangled, Yunho took it upon himself to sit on your couch, not in His Spot. He propped his feet on the coffee table, beer in one hand, the other arm stretched along the back of the couch, eyes thinned as he stared at Mingi, “So, you’ve been taking this couch and giving me the shitty one?”
You gasped from the kitchen, “Take that back!”
“Sorry,” he sang through the space, voice floaty and light, “But this couch is so much better.”
You barely thought about his change of position after you had filled the coffee table with snacks, harboring a distracted mind, the entire ordeal feeling so utterly regular you didn’t think twice. Not until you were thirty minutes deep into Iron Man with your head leaning on Yunho’s shoulder and your legs thrown over Mingi’s thighs did your brain seem to wake up.
It was so… Normal.
Normal conversation, normal cozy outfits, normal eye contact, normal banter, normal everything. The only thing that didn’t remain the same was the blooming feeling in your chest, pressing against your breastplate in tempo, reminding you whose shoulder you lay on, what you wanted to ask of him tonight.
Again.
You dreamed of what else he had to show you, what the man beneath your head was capable of. Years he’s spent with partners, trying new things, figuring out what he likes, what his partners like, so much time spent reading people. Last Saturday was no contest to his abilities, proof that you had chosen correctly, that there was an entire world out there you weren’t a part of. Yet.
You caught yourself staring at the half eaten bowl of chips, your favorite, the snack you had only mentioned a handful times in your years of knowing him. The fact that he remembered something so minuscule had goosebumps rising on your arms, legs twitching against Mingi who let his hand travel beneath the pant leg of your sweatpants, resting a callused palm on your skin, eyes still trained on the screen before you.
Where Yunho sat himself first, how eager he seemed to be to get tangled up with you and your boyfriend, there was no doubt that he’d say no. Right?
You blink, a yawn ripping through your chest interrupting your mind running in circles, body arching and stretching between the two men. Your eyes feel heavy.
It was too comfortable like this. Was it supposed to be?
“You sleepy?” Yunho’s voice made you jolt, honeyed and easy, completely innocent. Not a shred of dominance, lust or performance behind his words, yet they went straight to the gutter where your mind had taken residence.
“No,” you mumble with a shake of your head, your voice small, quiet, pretending you weren’t trying to force thoughts from your mind.
“Liar,” he flexed his shoulder where your head lay comfortably, shifting his body on the couch, a hand patting his lap in silent command for you to lay.
Silently you turn on your side, head softly landing on his thigh, manually breathing through your nose. One of his palms finds your hair, fingertips massaging circles into your scalp, his other hand softly hung over your arm.
You’re wide awake now with the thigh beneath you cradling your head, somehow softer than a pillow, a million times better than the armrest you’d damned to hell weeks ago. His scent is all around you, in your nose, in your head, taking root in your spine beside the rest of your sleeping secrets.
Mingi spreads your legs before you’re fully settled, slotting his shoulders between them, cheek pressed against your thigh with his eyes still focused on the screen before you.
The three of you now, curled up together on the couch, barely a word spoken, you wondered what was going through Yunho’s head. Has he been able to stop thinking about that night? Why did he look at you that way at the farmers market? Why did he drop your arm like it burned him, when he was sitting with you like this now?
Your eyes dip down to Mingi and you see Yunho’s other hand now slotted in his hair, massaging his scalp, and your heart flutters at the sight. It could be easy like this, you think. The three of you, close friends for years already, you know you got along, your core values line up.
And you’re worried about him fucking you again? The thought feels futile now.
You feel two taps to your temple, “What’s going on in that head of yours?”
Your eyes widen, caught. You’re glad he can’t see your face. “Nothing,” you feign, “Just tired.”
Yunho hums, both hands in your hair now, one traveling down to your face to swipe his thumb across your cheek. “You’re lying,” he says quietly, “Again. Quite the liar tonight.”
A smile creeps up on you, “Like you would know when I’m lying.”
You feel the sharp breath he sucks in, his hands retreating from your skin, settling god knows where. You can hear the sly smile painted on his cheeks as he says, “I know more than you think I do.”
Your eyes widen again, smile gone, heart positively sinking to your ass. Lips pursing, you try to keep your cool, “Then why did you ask?”
“I can feel you twitching, you know,” he’s still smiling, words coated in amusement before his bite returns, “Your eyes are everywhere but on the screen, I can see your thoughts, but I’ll ask you one more time. What are you thinking about?”
You bite the inside of your cheek, glancing down at Mingi who looks up at you with eyes that tell you to Say it.
“Last Saturday,” you mumble, heat warming your skin, gaze returning to the screen, “Wondering when we’ll do it again.”
There’s a pause between the three of you, the air in the room shifting, charged with desire, with a question.
“What else do you want to try?” He asks, uneasiness cutting through his words, less confidence than he usually spoke with. You glance down at Mingi again and his doe eyes stare up at you with nothing. You were on your own this time.
“Um,” you think back to the research you did with Mingi, the things on your list, everything left to try. You could feel the heat in your ears, nerves of being put on the spot, of having to say something so blunt to the man who’s tried it all. “Maybe something a little more intense this time… Maybe… Bondage? Something of the sort?”
Yunho’s eyebrows raised, he wasn’t expecting that. A shiver runs down his spine at the mental image of you and Mingi splayed out on the bed, arms bound behind your backs, looking up at him with those fucking eyes that begged for more. How you two looked at him hasn’t left his mind once, his last thought before bed, coming to him mid-day to torture him, knowing he couldn’t experience it again in good conscience.
He pushes a cool breath through freshly licked lips, his hips shifting beneath him without his mind allowing it. You turn your head, finally looking up at him, and Yunho’s breath is sucked from his lungs entirely. That look was going to drive him insane.
“No?” Your eyebrows are raised, lips curled into the slightest of pouts, hair sprawled out around your head in a halo.
He runs his tongue over his teeth, blinking, scouring his brain for words. “I,” he pauses, eyes drifting to the screen ahead of him, “I think you and Mingi would do really well with bondage. I could explain how.”
Mingi’s looking up at him now too, a furrow in his brow, a glint of disappointment in his eyes. Fuck. Yunho has always prided himself in his self restraint, his ability to say no, but you two… His world had been flipped upside down in one week's time.
“Me and Mingi?” You ask, eyebrows knitted together, blinking in question. “As in, alone?”
“Well, all of this is for you two to learn, isn’t it?” Yunho’s head falls to the side, words slipping off his tongue, no longer able to think before he speaks.
Mingi’s mouth opens and then closes, glancing at you before returning his gaze to Yunho, “Well, yeah, but…”
“See how much you’ve learned, then,” Yunho redirects his attention to the screen, the movie forgotten. “I can explain, give you pointers, show you what’s safe. You’ll be fine.”
He wills his face not to move. He knows it’s unsafe, giving you the bare minimum and letting you fend for yourselves, but he cannot, in good will, share your bed again. He can’t let it go any further. Being put between a rock and a hard place can’t begin to describe the feeling of doom in his gut.
You and Mingi share a long stare, he can see it from his peripherals, but all you do is mumble a soft Okay before settling over his thigh again.
He feels guilty. He should be ignoring his feelings, laying them to the side so he can show you what you asked of him. You need his help, he made a big show of being the one you asked, he knows you have no one else.
At the end of the day, your relationship, his friendship with the two of you is what’s most important. He can go home and fist his cock to the idea of you and Mingi bound before him, but he cannot, and will not let it happen before his eyes.
“He said to tie it like this, right? It’s not too tight?” Mingi sits back on his legs with furrowed brows, bottom lip sucked between his teeth after he observed the necktie he fastened around your wrists, bound behind your back.
“I can’t see it, I don’t know if it’s right,” you bend your arms to test your restraint and it feels roomy, probably looser than it should be, “It doesn’t feel too tight, but I think if I pulled hard enough I could get out.”
The two of you on your knees atop your mattress, naked and horny, you took the advice Yunho had given you and attempted to put it to use. Mingi purses his lips, “Well, what if you just don’t pull hard enough?”
A laugh escapes you, head falling backward, God you fucking loved him. “The whole point of being tied up so I can’t get out, Mingi, even if I want to.”
He pushes a breath through his lips, crawling behind you again, “Okay, lemme try again.”
Your jaw clenches, this already wasn’t off to a great start, but when you said bondage you were under the impression that the very experienced Yunho would be the one tying you up. You tried not to bask in your disappointment of being rejected, being only two days after the No happened, so instead you and Mingi decided to do what he suggested: Try it out yourselves.
The both of you felt unsteady this time, this was more than being slapped around, heavier than a palm around your throat. This was a performance, something that took research, guidance, everything you were looking for in Yunho.
But he said no.
So, back to your romance novels, websites, articles upon articles on top of the mental list you kept of what Yunho said to do. You and Mingi even contemplated you being the one to tie him up, but he insisted that he wanted to be the dominant role tonight, he wanted you at his complete mercy.
Rushed, yes. But it felt necessary to do it now.
You stare at the ceiling as your wrists are toyed with behind you, listening as Mingi mumbles to himself, speaking the steps to tie a Handcuff Knot out loud. A few minutes later, he released a satisfied sound from behind you, “Okay, try that.”
You wiggle your wrists around, definitely tighter, and nothing hurts. You turn your head, relief washing over you, “Feels perfect, good job, baby.”
“Thank God,” he lets out a sigh of relief, crawling back around you, “If that didn’t work, I might have given up.”
“Please kiss me or something,” your voice reveals your desperation clearly, “I’m about to lose it.”
He smiles, without a word he lifts himself on his knees to press his lips to yours, palms immediately coming up to cup your cheeks. You immediately moan into it, especially when his chest presses against yours, the contact after sitting, naked, waiting for so long.
His hands fall down to your chest, to your waist, hands skimming over your skin as he takes your bottom lip between his teeth, biting down softly. You whine, chasing him, hands already tugging at your restraints, wanting to feel him. He pushes you back by your waist, your body crumpling over your arms behind your back, knees still bent and now spread.
He smiles, more devilish than anything as he looks you up and down, eyes zeroing in on your pulsing center. “I think I could get used to this.”
You whimper from the mattress, thighs twitching, “Please touch me, Min.”
His hands fall to your thighs, fingers dancing over your skin, light touches that don’t do anything but fill your gut with frustration. He ignores your request, “So spread out for me, you’re so flexible. It doesn’t hurt with your knees like that?”
Heat floods you, slight embarrassment at the question, your voice comes out sharp. “The only thing that hurts is my pussy that you’re not touching.”
“Ah,” he smacks his lips together, “We can’t have that, can we?”
He lays his palms over your knees and your back arches at the warmth, at the weight of his hands, and he slides them upward as if his limbs were made of molasses. When you whine, he smiles, eyes meeting yours, “You think complaining is gonna make me move any faster?”
The restraints prick at the skin of your wrists, emitting a heat that you weren’t completely sure was from the arousal burning through your blood. Your hips buck into his hands, voice hungry, “I’ll stop.”
His hands glide further, laying over your hipbones, pressing down and you immediately hiss. You grind your teeth together, shifting your shoulders to get some pressure off your wrists, hips pressing up into his hands.
He pops a brow as he lifts his hands, still ghosting over your skin but not adding pressure, “You good?”
You let your shoulders fall back to the mattress and your wrists ache. You shake your head, knowing something isn’t right, “Untie me.”
“It hurts?” He asks as he scoops an arm under your back, immediately flipping you over.
You nod into the mattress, voice strained, “I think it’s too tight, I’m not sure.”
He straddles your ass, half hard cock poking at your cheeks, his hands making quick work at the knot on your back, “I knew we shouldn’t have done this, I felt it.”
“We both wanted to,” you try to reassure him, knowing guilt was already piling up, “And you tied it correctly. It will take time to figure out what’s right, Min, it’s not a big deal.”
“It’s not a big deal?” He reiterates, and you just know his eyebrows are in his hairline, baffled that you just said those words. He continues working at the knot, “What if I was fucking you, and I was too in it to read your body language. What if you got seriously hurt?”
“Mingi, I would have told you to untie me, you wouldn’t have to read my body language,” once your wrists loosen at your back he lets you push yourself up, turning over to sit, already rubbing your wrists, “It’s a part of the process.”
He’s shaking his head when he enters your view, “He should be here. He would have done it safely, he knows how to do it—”
“He’s not here,” you reach forward, cupping his cheeks in your hands, “It’s you and me.”
He finally lets his eyes meet yours and they’re swirling with guilt and regret, his cheeks pink, lips swollen and pouting. “I don’t want to do that again.”
You nod, even if your heart cracks at the seams, “Then we won’t do it again.”
“But you want this,” he shakes his head in your hands, eyes glossed over, “You want it.”
“If it’s not something you’re comfortable with then I don’t want it,” your voice comes out sharp, “Period, end of story.”
He holds your eye for a second before his hand lays over your own, pulling it away from his face to press kisses to your open palm. You watch as he travels up to your wrist, flipping your arm over to press his lips to every inch of skin that was bound by the necktie. A small smile warms your cheeks as he does the same to your other arm, lips pressing against the circumference of your forearm, eyes glassy and face sad.
“I want what you want,” he says earnestly, laying his cheek in your palm again, “I’m so fucking terrified that I might hurt you, this is so much different than choking you, or saying mean shit. You can’t move.”
You nod, chest aching, taking his feelings in and letting them settle. “I know, I understand.”
“I’m calling him,” he says with so much certainty there isn’t room for you to argue.
But your eyes still nearly bulge out of your head, jaw dropping, “To say what?!”
“That we need his help,” his eyes fall to your knees, sounding defeated. He looks back up to you again, “He can show me.”
You blink at him, hand dropping from his cheek, in awe or bewilderment, you weren’t sure. “Do you think… Are you sure?”
“I want what you want,” he says sternly, hands planted on your knees, “I want to do this, I want to do it right. I want him to show me.”
The next night you sit atop your mattress again, not only with Mingi at the foot of the bed, but Yunho beside him. Mingi called his best friend himself, a conversation you weren’t a part of, he kept it private, between the two of them only.
You didn’t press any further, if he was keeping it to himself there must be a reason and you trust him wholeheartedly. So you didn’t act surprised when Yunho arrived at your apartment straight from work, slacks on his legs, a button down hugging his torso. You didn’t question a thing when he sat down at your kitchen table while you and Mingi finished up making dinner, instead you set a plate in front of him, water only for the table, and the three of you ate like this was normal.
Before dinner was over you nearly forgot what the night was ending with, because the way the three of you talked, laughed and bantered over a meal had you convinced this was normal. Like the seat Yunho occupied at your kitchen table was and always has been his.
The bag he brought with him sat in the navy blue chair in the corner of your bedroom, the top two buttons of his shirt undone, his pants bunched up around his thighs. You sat in nothing but a big tee, hair bundled up atop your head, eyes sliding back and forth as the two of them discussed like you weren’t present.
“You remembered how I showed you though, right?” Yunho asked, “It was just tied too tight?”
Mingi runs his hands over his face, “It was too tight if it was even tied correctly, I tried three different times.”
Yunho finally turns to you, including you in the conversation, “Did the tie feel comfortable?”
“At first,” you tilt your head in unease, “Then it started burning and it was uncomfortable.”
“The scene wasn’t set,” Mingi interjects, frustration clear in his voice like he was relieving himself of a burden, “I wasn’t sure how to tie it and I made her wait until I got it right, it wasn’t a sexy atmosphere. I was overwhelmed, uneducated and insecure, it was too much, too quick.”
Your eyebrows raise along with the hair on your arms, he said none of this to you so bluntly. Guilt sits in your gut, heavy and sour, the feeling that you pushed him into something poking at your conscience. Maybe that was part of the reason he kept his conversation with Yunho private.
“That’s my fault,” Yunho drops his head, “I shouldn’t have told you to do it on your own. I should have properly taught you, like you asked me to do in the first place.”
“Are you sure you want this?” Your voice comes out small, eyeing your boyfriend, embarrassment and guilt settling over you like a dark cloud. “You said it’s too much.”
“It’s not too much,” Mingi answers too quickly for your liking. “It’s not, I promise. I’m just frustrated that I can’t do what you want me to do.”
Your lips part, but Yunho cuts you off. “You want to be perfect the first time around, I understand what you mean. That isn’t realistic though, Min, this takes time to learn, to practice.”
Mingi runs a hand through his hair, his voice cracking as he says, “It’s not just what happened yesterday, I’m frustrated.”
“I don’t want it to feel that way,” your bottom lip curls, “I don’t want you to feel pressure, I want it to feel fun for you.”
Yunho puts a hand on Mingi’s shoulder and your boyfriend’s head lifts to meet his eye, “I understand, I’ve been through it. Wanting so badly to please your partner and be everything they were imagining, to be everything you were imagining yourself. Give yourself grace, Mingi.”
Yunho turns to you, “Same thing goes for you when you’re topping him. It’s not easy.”
You nod, but this isn’t about you. You look at Mingi again, trying to ignore your heart cracking in your chest at the sight of him, “We don’t need to do all the things, Min.”
“I want to do them all,” he finally looks at you, and you can see the flush of honesty in his pupils that he means it. He turns to Yunho again, “But I need your help to do them properly.”
Yunho gives him a small smile, “That’s what I’m here for.” He slides off the bed, walking to the bag he left in the corner of your room, picking it up and then tossing it on the mattress between you. “I brought some stuff, but I think to make everyone feel at ease, we’ll go with bondage tape for today.”
He sits on the bed beside Mingi, unzipping the bag and pulling out a roll of… Duct tape? Electrical tape?
“It’s made of PVC material,” he holds it up in his hand, and you shift closer to look at the black roll of tape, “It only sticks to itself, it doesn’t leave residue, doesn’t stick to your hair. It’s flexible enough to where it will fit snugly, but it won’t pinch or hit pressure points, and it can be removed or reapplied on a whim.”
He turns the roll of tape in his hands like it’s a fidget toy, “It’s good for beginners, and it can double as a blindfold too, or even a gag if you want to try that. Here, it’s yours.”
You catch the roll in your hands, feeling the slippery material, eyeing the shine of the tape. “This is pretty cool,” you raise your eyebrows, “Seems safer.”
You toss it to Mingi who immediately peels it from the roll, stretching it between his fingers, “Wish I knew this existed yesterday.”
Yunho’s lips form a line, “That’s seriously my fault, I’m sorry.” He reaches into his bag again, pulling out a pair of scissors encased in leather, “I always keep these on hand, just in case my partner needs to be cut out quickly. I’ll put them off to the side.”
He reaches to lay them on your nightstand, then sits back with his calf beneath him. “Have you ever broken any bones, or have any injuries, any part of your body feeling sore or just not right?”
“I broke my toe when I was like six years old on a trampoline,” you answer simply, shrugging. Mingi snorts, a smile finally reappearing on his lips. A smile grows on your lips at the sound, “Other than that, no.”
“Is there anywhere on your body I should steer clear from, not restrain in any way?”
“I’m cool with my wrists or ankles being bound for today,” you say, and Yunho nods along, his eyes bouncing between you and Mingi to make sure your boyfriend was listening.
“I’m sure these are all things you know already,” Yunho says to Mingi who nods his agreement, “But these are the kinds of questions I ask before playing with a new partner or with a current partner, for safety reasons and to know exactly what they want.”
Mingi is still nodding before he asks, “And this doesn’t take away from it not feeling… Sexy?”
“There’s nothing sexier than consent,” Yunho smiles, “Asking for it continuously throughout the process, too. You’ll see.” He turns to you again, “You remember the stoplight system? I’ll be asking for your color.”
You nod rapidly, anticipation now kissing your skin, “Kiwi for a full stop, too.”
“I remember,” he says softly as he moves his bag to the floor, hitting the hardwood with a thump that told you it wasn’t empty. You wondered what else was inside, if there were toys, more things to bind you with. Knowing Yunho, it could be anything.
He shifts to sit in front of you on the bed and the movement tears your eyes away from the bag on the floor back up to him, the same feeling from the farmers market beats in your chest. It was a different need than what you felt the first time around, more intense, like Yunho was an indulgence, a treat you’ve been waiting for.
Your eyes slide to Mingi and his pupils are already dilated at your closeness before you and Yunho had even touched. Excitement joins adrenaline in your veins, your lips curling up at the corners, your body moving toward Yunho with nothing but greed on your mind.
“Hi,” his voice is soft, not sharpened with control just yet. “Miss me?”
Your smile turns lopsided, eyes rolling, “A little, I guess.”
He raises his eyebrows as a smirk plays on his lips, moving close enough for you to feel his breath on your cheeks, “A little? You guess?”
Minty. Him. “I saw you three days ago.”
“You know that’s not what I meant,” his voice shifts, thick with arousal as he bends down closer to your ear, “Did you miss my hands on you?”
You suck in a breath through your teeth, his words tickling the shell of your ear, a shiver running down your spine. He smiles, “Thought so.”
He presses his lips just below your ear and your neck immediately bends back, chin tipping upward, a high pitched, breathy noise escaping you. “Missed this,” he whispers into your skin, his hand coming up to hold the opposite side of your head, holding you steady, “The way you taste.”
He works down the column of your neck, lips sucking at your skin where you responded to it, never hard enough to leave a mark. “Then why didn’t you come when we asked?” You asked, adrenaline and lust pounding beneath your skin, you could feel your heartbeat everywhere as his hands traveled down your waist, under your shirt.
“Because this,” you gasp as he hikes your tee over your head, “Is trouble.”
Your eyes stay locked on him, attaching his lips to your collar bone as your stomach drops, his hands feeling every inch of skin available to him. Still in his button up and slacks, the feeling of being exposed only aided in the pulse between your thighs.
Trouble.
Your hands moved before you could think about it, fingers working at the buttons on his chest while he kissed back up to your jawline, you whimpered as his teeth grazed over your skin. He finally kissed you as you pulled his shirt off his shoulders, hands immediately grabbing onto them for purchase, pushing upward on your knees to crawl into his lap.
He smiles into the kiss, “Seems like you missed me more than a little.”
“Shut up,” you bite, hands already tugging at the hem of the white tank he wore, wanting it off. Needing him as bare before you as you were him.
He pulls away, eyebrows raised, an amused smile on his lips. “Is that how you speak to me?”
“You said I’m trouble,” you shrug, looking up at him through your lashes, “Might as well get into some.”
His smile turns wicked, vile, staring at you as if he was cooking up everything he was about to do to you. It makes your skin burn, a fire threatening to burn the hairs off your arm, thrill racing through your entire being.
He’s quick to get you on your back, smashing his lips into yours with force, letting his tongue slip into your mouth like he was stealing something from you. You arch into him, arms thrown around his neck, a leg hooking over his back. He grabs your arms from around his neck in a fast motion, holding them above your head, but never breaking the kiss once.
You laugh, a light, airy giggle that slipped through your lips without thought. Your eyes open when he puts a centimeter of space between you, and an endless pit of black stares back at you. Oh, he did not like that.
A brow raises, “You think it's funny?”
You tilt your jaw up, smile still playing on your lips, eyes low. A challenge. “If I do?”
His neck snaps, eyeing Mingi beside him, voice harsh, “Hand me the tape.”
Mingi scrambles to get the roll in his hands, eyes blinking as if Yunho tore him out of a trance, bending forward to hand him the tape quickly. Yunho pushes your leg off his hips, crawling over your torso, grabbing your wrists above your head with one of his hands.
He peels it off the roll with his teeth, rolling it around your wrists three times before biting the tape to rip it off the roll, throwing it off to the side. He looks down at you, “How’s it feel?”
“Secure,” you say just above a whisper, wiggling your wrists around in the binding, “Not too tight.”
He was right. It isn’t pulling on the hairs on your arms, it isn’t moving, it has a slight stretch to it. It isn’t cutting into you, or pressing in a weird way. It feels good.
“Color?” he asks, holding one of your forearms.
“Green.”
“Good. Turn over.”
You blink for a moment, stomach dropping to your ass again. This was real, it was happening, you were being tied up properly after successfully pissing him off– You were in for it.
“Now.”
He shuffles off your torso, letting your wrists fall, and you use them to turn your body over, laying flat on your stomach, wrists tucked into your chest. He was still clothed, tank and slacks, while the only thing you had on was a pair of Mingi’s boxers. Your body burned.
“You watching?” Yunho asks Mingi as he tucks his hands beneath your waistband, tugging them down harshly.
You assume Mingi nods from his lack of an answer as Yunho pulls your thighs over his, rendering you bound bare before him. Mingi groans as Yunho’s hands smooth up the backs of your thighs, using his thumbs to spread. You can’t hold back the gasp that escapes you.
“Soaked,” he taunts, “I haven’t even touched you.”
“Please touch me,” you beg, feeling dazed already. You turn your head the opposite way so Mingi is in your view and his eyes are locked in at your core, his hand lazily thrown over his sweats, head tilted in awe.
A huff of amusement passes through Yunho’s lips before a harsh smack lands on your ass. You cry out a curse, completely unexpecting the strike, attempting to shuffle away from him. He grabs you by the hips before you could move, “Color?”
“Green,” you whimper, blood boiling beneath your skin. “Again.”
He lands another, making you curse again, and the third smack against your ass makes you moan. Yunho laughs, “I think the only way to punish you is to not touch you.”
Your neck cranes backward and he’s barely in your peripherals when you cry, “Don’t do that, please don’t do that.”
“You’re easy to tame,” he snickers, hands rubbing where he had just hit you, palms smooth and comforting. “Big talk to submit that quickly, don’t you think?”
Your core is aching, pulsing over his lap, chest heaving against the mattress. “I’m sorry,” you mumble, “Please do something, touch me, something.”
He doesn’t answer, instead he lets his fingers dance over the curve of your ass, knuckles ghosting over your slit before they press at your clit. You cry out, legs spreading further, hips moving backward into him.
“Look at that,” you see his hand out of your peripherals as he stretches it out to Mingi, “Taste.”
You moan as Mingi leans forward, grabbing Yunho’s wrist, tongue slipping from between his lips to lap at his knuckles, his eyes big and glossed over as he stares at Yunho while doing it.
You feel him beneath you now, cock stiff in his slacks and it’s the reminder that he gets off on this that has your head going fuzzy, hips grinding downward onto him. Another slap lands on your ass, less harsh than the others, “I’ll leave you here, bound and untouched while I fuck your boyfriend, pretty girl. Don’t forget that I’m teaching, doing you both a favor.”
“Fuck,” you huff out, “Please do something Yunho, fuck.”
He doesn’t respond, but you watch his tank hit your comforter, thrown from where he sat. He lifts you on your knees, your head on the mattress supporting the weight of you as he shifts, the crinkling noise of his pants hitting the hardwood floor the only sound in the room.
“No,” he finally answers, sliding off the bed. You move on command, knees buckling beneath you so you could sit, looking at Yunho with wide eyes. He stands beside the bed, briefs on his hips, torso bared with his shoulders straight. He points down to the floor, jaw locked, “Earn it.”
Your knees pressed to the hardwood without a second thought, bound wrists reaching for his briefs, shimmying them down his thighs until his cock springs up against his pelvis. Your breath is shattered at the sight of him, the reminder how big he is, how he felt inside you. Your gut swirls with need, mouth watering, eyelids fluttering.
“Cockslut,” he shakes his head, voice venomous, “Forgot how hungry you get for it. Impress me.”
Hard, red and leaking with precum, you use one hand to guide him between your lips, letting your wrists fall between your thighs. You flatten out your tongue to take him in your mouth, no teasing, instead pushing him down your throat until your nose meets the tuft of hair at the base of him, gagging on command.
One of his hands immediately reaches for your scalp, a harsh gasp escaping him as he holds you there, his hips stuttering. The noise shoots confidence through you, the sharp pain of his fingers in your hair making your eyes roll back, bobbing your head along his length, working up a rhythm.
You’ve never given head without your hands– It was damn near impossible with Mingi, his length gagging you at the halfway point, but you had something to prove. Tears rimmed your eyes as you took him as deep as you could, staring at him through your lashes as his brows furrowed, lips parted, staring down at you with such lust it made your stomach curl with need.
You moaned around the length of him making him groan and oh god you were going to lose it if something wasn’t inside you soon. You took him as deep as you could with each bob of your head, willing your gag reflex to relax, for your throat to open up. You breathed through your nose as you hollowed out your cheeks, taking him impossibly deeper, forcing his cock to the back of your throat and the reaction was worth the tears streaming down your cheeks.
A low moan, harsh and grumbled as if it forced its way through his chest, your thighs tightened. You bobbed your head faster, keeping your tongue flat against the underside of him, sucking harder. He tugs at your hair, “Fuck, baby, just like that. Make me cum.”
Your eyes squeeze shut, keeping your rhythm, knees aching against the hardwood. He moans again when he hits the back of your throat, holding you there, his hips thrusting forward. Your eyes shoot open, keeping your head still, opening your mouth wider, an invitation.
One received well, he holds your head steady with one hand as he fucks into your mouth, low groans leaving his lips one after another, “Fuck, yes, so fucking good. Gonna paint that pretty face white, yeah?”
You moan around his length, core pulsing, aching with need. His hips stutter, and then he pulls out, fist wrapping around his cock. You stick your tongue out, watching as he cums, as his stomach clenches while ropes of white land on your cheeks, your forehead, your nose.
You smile, tongue licking around your mouth, bound wrists coming up to wipe at your face, licking his release off your fingers. He bends down, arms hooking under your armpits, throwing you onto the bed in one quick motion.
You made a noise of surprise as your back hit the mattress, legs spreading as Yunho slots himself between them, immediately eyeing Mingi. “See that? Tamed.”
You couldn’t see that Mingi wasn’t smiling, or that his brain had gone elsewhere. Your eyes were on Yunho’s fist wrapped around his cock, stroking it until he was hard again, a quick feat that had your mouth watering all over again.
“I’m taking you with no prep,” he pins your hands over your head, “What’s your color?”
“So fucking green,” you respond, voice winded, thick and hazy.
Then he’s prodding at your entrance, pulling a moan straight from your gut, the feeling of something touching you after waiting so long, nearly overwhelming. He sheathes himself in one quick motion, your slick allowing him, your body pliant and open.
He groans, “So fucking tight, baby,” then he looks up to Mingi, balls deep inside you, “Do you even fuck her?”
“Every day,” Mingi says, his voice low, cracked. You don’t think anything of it, mind too full of Yunho, of how he was effectively splitting you open. Your wrists hit the top of your head, shoulders bent, eyes screwed shut.
Then he moves. You cry when he pulls out, even louder when he pushes all the way back in, immediately working into a rhythm so perfect it renders you silent.
His hands tuck under your thighs, pushing them forward, “Quiet now? When you’re finally getting what you want?”
A small noise escapes you with each following thrust, mind too fuzzy to make words, the feeling of him everywhere sending you somewhere else. Yunho chuckles, “Don’t tell me you’ve gone dumb, pretty. We just got started.”
You don’t respond, eyes opening just to roll backwards when he pushes your thighs further, angling your hips so his cock hits that spot inside you. You wail, wrists coming down from your head to grab at his chest, but he grabs them mid-motion, pushing them back over your head, forcing himself deeper.
It felt like he was breaking you open– ruthless in the way he fucked you, the sound of skin slapping taking over the entire room, this was Yunho. You didn’t notice the tears streaming down your cheeks nor did you hear the sounds leaving your lips, you could only feel him in your tummy, the stretch in your hamstrings, it all bled into earth-shattering pleasure.
Your legs stayed spread as he used his other hand to rub at your clit, a pit immediately pooling in your stomach, the one thought in your mind repeating. He laughs again, “Are you saying what I think you're saying?”
Your eyes open, your mouth already moving, aware of the sweat on your skin. “Thank you,” you manage, stuttering, lip quivering.
“Fuck,” his head dips down, a moan escaping him, “You’re so fucking sexy.”
“I’m gonna cum,” you cry, the pit in your tummy growing, right on the edge, pressure beneath your skin.
“Go ahead,” he urges, “You earned it, baby. Cum around my cock.”
Your toes curl, head digging into the mattress, hands curling into fists as the pressure blows. Your whole body clenches, orgasm coming in waves of heavy pleasure, long and dragged out as he fucks you through it, mind effortlessly blank.
“Shit,” he curses, hips stuttering against yours, “So fucking tight, I’m not lasting.”
Your breathing is heavy, staggered as his hips lose their rhythm, as Yunho loses his control. As if he was holding on to the last shred of it, he pulls out, fisting his cock again to paint your core, pelvis and tummy with cum, groans escaping him as his head tips back.
Your chest is heaving, covered in sweat and cum, eyes closed. Exhaustion consumes you, floating somewhere in a cloud of pleasure, body buzzing with everything you had just done. You barely register Yunho cutting the tape off your wrists, not until he’s saying something do you realize your ability to hear had left you momentarily.
“--Educational,” you catch the end of his sentence, eyes blinking open just as he looks down at you. He’s beside you in a second, wiping your hair off your face, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Welcome back.”
You mumble a noise, still coated in sweet pleasure like you hadn’t fully come down yet. Yunho smiles, “How you feeling?”
You try to swallow, mouth dry and throat scratchy, “Need water.”
There’s a bottle pressed to your lips, by Yunho or your boyfriend you weren’t sure.
Mingi.
Your eyes shoot open. “Min,” your hand flies out and smacks him right in the chest, relief washing over you as he comes into view, a warm smile on his cheeks that doesn’t reach his eyes.
He presses a kiss to your forehead, “Why don’t we get you into the bath?”
You immediately frown, the thought of walking there, sitting there, soaking. You ached to sleep. Mingi’s smile grows more genuine now, “At least a quick one to get you clean, I’ll carry you there. You and Yunho can talk while you’re in there, then you can sleep.”
You nod slowly, defeat clear on your face.
Mingi feels foul as he scoops you into his arms, covered in sweat and spit and cum, knowing he wasn’t the one that put any of it there. He feels detached as he sits you on the toilet, filling the tub in silence, scared to speak a word. Of what would come out of his mouth. Now wasn’t the time. Not like this.
What he had just witnessed– it was more than educational, he knew that in his soul. You and Yunho… The love of his life and his best friend, his heart fucking ached. It ached knowing that he would never be able to do that to you, put you in that headspace, making you a silent, spaced-out mess. Mingi thinks you didn’t even know your name ten minutes ago.
He’s never done that to you. He isn’t sure if he ever will.
The thought makes him sick.
Insecurity consumes him.
He helps you into the water, washes your face with a washcloth, scrubs shampoo in your hair until the dried cum breaks down into bubbles. He bites his lip the entire time, your eyes softly closed as he takes care of you, completely unaware that he was spiraling.
“Min,” Yunho places a hand on his shoulder and he closes his eyes, sucking down a breath. “I wanna talk to her before she falls asleep. Can I finish?”
Mingi nods, standing up, grabbing a dry towel to wipe his hands. Yunho stops him before he leaves the bathroom, a heavy hand on his shoulder, “Are you okay?”
Yunho’s eyes are clear. He’s staring at Mingi like he knows, because he probably does, he’s been able to read Mingi like the back of his hand for years. But Mingi lies anyway.
He nods with his lips in a line, “I’m fine.”
Yunho stares at him for a second before responding, “Okay.”
Mingi grabs his phone on his way out to the living room, immediately pulling up a random social media, sitting down on the couch to get his mind anywhere else. He can still hear you moaning as he scrolls, he can see the glint in Yunho’s eye, he’s still watching Yunho break you apart like it was happening in front of him.
His stomach aches. He will never be the one to do that to you. The only thing he learned tonight was the solidification of his own shortcomings.
He throws his phone beside him, the edges of his palms rubbing at his eyes. He wished he could be Yunho, with his confidence, his experience, he wants to be the one to make you stupid. Jealousy wraps around him like a suffocating hug, he opens his eyes slowly, just to see the How To book thrown on his coffee table from yesterday.
He lays down on the couch, assuming at this point Yunho will just sleep next to you in your shared bed. At this point, he deserves the spot. He was the one that pleased you, that brought you to release, he did what Mingi couldn’t.
He doesn’t know how long he lays there, brain whirling, replaying what happened earlier.
He doesn’t hear your bedroom door close softly, nor the footsteps approaching him.
“Mingi,” Yunho whispers, bent down next to him, unsure if he was asleep.
Mingi’s eyes peel open, he takes a good look at his best friend dressed in his clothes, and then he closes them. “Go sleep in there with her.”
“We can both go in there and go to sleep,” Yunho sits down on the floor, arms stretched over his knees, “After you talk to me about what’s bothering you.”
Mingi opens one eye. “Nothing’s bothering me.”
Yunho tilts his head, looking at Mingi like he knows, and it’s pointless for him to deny it. Mingi tries to hold on to his last layer of dignity, he’s lost his ability to please his girlfriend, and now he has to lose his pride?
“You felt left out?” Yunho asks, voice light but concerned.
Mingi mumbles, “I wasn’t included in the first place.”
Yunho swallows, stretching his arms behind his back to hold him up. “She loves you. That was just a fantasy.”
Mingi is sure his stomach is in his boxers. He sits up on the couch, grabbing his phone, “A fantasy I’ll never be able to fulfill.”
“Mingi, isn’t that why I’m here?” Yunho asks, leaning forward in an attempt to get Mingi’s eyes on him. He scrolls on his phone, not looking up, not answering. Yunho raises his voice, clearer now, “To show you how. To help you fulfill it, same for her with you.”
Mingi looks up, eyes widened, jaw locked. His breathing shows his temper, quick and heavy, frustration zapping through his limbs, “You think any of that was showing me? That’s a stupid excuse for you to fuck my girlfriend in front of my face.”
Yunho shrinks where he sits. Immediate consequence for doing something he said he wasn’t going to. His cheeks redden as he frantically shakes his head, “Mingi that is not what that was.”
“Really?” Mingi raises his brows, a smile that was nothing short of sarcastic tugging on his lips, “I called you and laid my heart on the line.” His lip quivers, voice cracking, the facade fading all at once, “I handed you every ounce of pride in my body and you just shattered all of it.”
Yunho is quick on his feet, moving to the couch, his heart leading him directly next to his best friend, “I’m sorry.”
Mingi keeps his head low, shaking his head. Yunho puts his hand on Mingi’s thigh, squeezing it, inching forward. His voice is quieter, shallow with guilt, “I don’t know how to do this, either. The lines already feel blurred.”
Mingi tilts his head, looking at Yunho through his peripherals, “Blurred?”
“It’s like I don’t have control,” Yunho’s heart jumps, swallowing down his unease, handing Mingi the key to his locked lips. “The night I slept with you both, I… I can’t stop thinking about it. I told myself I wouldn’t fuck you again because I’m not sure if I can hold myself back. But you called, so I did, and I couldn’t hold back. This is all my fault, and I take full responsibility for making you feel this way.”
“I thought you didn’t have any interest in sleeping with us again,” Mingi’s voice is filled with disbelief, turning his head to face him fully, “That’s why I called and begged.”
“She loves you,” Yunho reiterates, voice sharpened with truth, “And you love her. I’m nothing, just your ‘teacher.’ If I was fucking you to show her, it would have happened the same way.”
Mingi blinks, his words sinking in. His best friend wants him, too. Not just you. He wants both of you. His mouth waters, realizing the closeness he shared with Yunho, how his face was mere inches away. He could smell his own body wash, eyes dropping to his own tee shirt hung loosely on Yunho’s shoulders, his sweatpants tucked beneath his body as Yunho sat curled next to him.
A question lays deep in his gut, a terrifying wonder, if he asks it, he’ll be exposing himself in a way he can never come back from. He meets Yunho’s gaze and he then notices the sadness, the guilt, the want. Mingi whispers, “Do you think she’ll leave me if I can’t do it?”
Yunho frowns, his heart cracking, “She’d burn me alive if she knew you were feeling this way right now. I think she’d rather die than live a life that didn’t have you in it.”
Mingi smiles, small but full of hope because he knows Yunho’s right. He’s never doubted your loyalty, your love for him, because he’s never had to— tonight wasn’t going to change that.
Yunho smiles too, because the two of you are his best friends, and he wants you happy. Whether that happiness included him or not.
“Let’s go to bed,” Yunho offers quietly, squeezing the hand that still sat on Mingi’s thigh, “The three of us can talk about it in the morning.”
Mingi’s eyes stay trained where Yunho’s hand lays on his leg, his palm feeling warm, comforting. Long fingers, faintly blue veins running up his wrist, he didn’t want to go to bed. Not yet.
Yunho can feel the air shift, he sees the smooth, heavy breath Mingi takes in the expansion of his chest. His eyes flicker up to his best friend’s face, “Unless you aren’t tired yet.”
Mingi’s eyes meet his, deep chocolate, full of warmth and subtle desperation. Yunho caused this, he can fix it. His hand slides upward, and Mingi’s breath catches in his throat. Yunho’s other hand stretches forward, landing on Mingi’s cheek, and his chest tightens when his best friend melts into his touch. So pliant, so giving, arousal floods Yunho as if he didn’t just cum twice thirty minutes ago.
“I’m not tired yet,” Mingi whispers, looking at Yunho through his lashes, hips shifting beneath him. His brain short circuits, all the sadness and self-deprecation seemed long ago, his girlfriend fast asleep behind a closed door. It was his turn.
Mingi leans in first, catching Yunho’s lips between his own and the world around him seems to reset. His hands are on Yunho’s cheeks, his chest pressed flat to his, tongue in his mouth, brain muddled with thoughts of only Yunho.
Yunho’s hands found his waist, immediately trailing beneath his shirt, hands traveling up his waist, feeling his soft skin compared to the strength lying beneath, Mingi’s body was dizzying. Comfort and a promise all in one, Yunho kept himself close, letting his tongue sink into Mingi’s mouth until Mingi left him panting.
“I can’t go again,” Yunho whispers, barely breaking the kiss, his lips still touching Mingi’s.
Mingi smiles into him, “I know the feeling, she’s unbelievable."
They get lost in lips again, hands tugging in locks, hips rutting against each other after Yunho pushes him back onto the couch. Yunho licks down Mingi’s neck, sucking a mark into the base just above his collarbone and Mingi sucks in a sharp intake of breath, fists grabbing Yunho’s shirt, tugging it over his head.
A desperate mess, the two of them, no time to stop, not enough breath for words. Mingi’s hand reaches for his cock, half hard in his sweats and Yunho chokes, head sinking into his chest.
Mingi smiles, “You can go again.”
Yunho shakes his head, “Your turn.”
He’s kissing down Mingi’s abdomen before he has time to protest, tee hiked up to his pecs, leaving his torso bare and open for Yunho to taste. Thumbs in his waistband, Yunho didn’t want to tease, didn’t want to hear Mingi beg.
He wanted him singing into his ear, a song of pleasure, of praise. Yunho didn’t feel like himself— sinking into unknown territory, this loss of control, this eagerness flooding his nervous system. He couldn’t acknowledge it, not with Mingi’s cock in front of his eyes, so fucking hard and leaking Yunho’s mouth watered.
Mingi moaned as Yunho licked up the underside of him, lips wrapping around his tip, tongue flicking at the slit that oozed precum. Mingi bucked his hips, whiney and desperate, fists curling into the couch cushions beneath him.
Yunho took him slowly, a hand wrapped around the base of him, the other sliding up and down his thigh. Mingi’s hands found Yunho’s hair and he looked up at him through his lashes, the sight left his hips rutting against the couch. Eyes rolled back, chin tipped upward, lips parted, sweat kissing his brows, Mingi would always be a sight for sore eyes but this might take the cake. Uncontrolled, raw, body twitching with pleasure, Yunho had never thought Mingi so beautiful.
“Faster,” Mingi pleaded, a raspy sound, “Please.”
Yunho took him fully, lips meeting his own hand, working his mouth and his fingers in rhythm, a quick twist as his grip tightened around him. Mingi covered his mouth with his hand, eyebrows twisting together as the other pushed Yunho deeper onto his cock by his hair, controlling his pace.
Yunho let his eyes close, allowing Mingi to use him, his mouth, wanting to feel him empty himself down his throat. His hips dug into the couch with each bounce of his head, the feeling of his throat so full, of knowing he was giving Mingi pleasure, it revived him tenfold.
“So good, Yunho, fuck,” Mingi huffed, “Gonna make me cum.”
He bobbed his head faster, lips sucking harder, eyes screwing shut. He barely gagged when Mingi hit the back of his throat but Mingi sobbed, abdomen clenching, hips bucking into Yunho’s face. He’d smile if he could, but instead he humped the couch harder, his own orgasm approaching.
“Close,” Mingi mumbled, voice strained and high pitched, his free hand sliding up his chest to run his thumb over his nipples.
Yunho’s eyebrows creased, a sight for sore eyes, indeed. Mingi’s breath hitched, hips bucking into his mouth wildly as Yunho’s own release tore through him, cumming into his briefs as Mingi shot his load down his throat. When Mingi finally let go, Yunho pulled off of him with a pop and a heaved sigh, heart pounding against his chest and briefs stuck to his pelvis.
“Did you just—”
Yunho nods, cheeks pink, and Mingi’s head tips backward in laughter. “You’re fucking lying.”
“Shut up,” Yunho grumbles, crawling forward to lay next to him, ignoring the discomfort in his pants.
Mingi hums, getting comfortable next to him, an arm thrown lazily over his torso. “You’re more like me than I thought.”
“There’s a reason we’ve been best friends for a decade, you know,” Yunho replies, eyes softly closed, an arm cradling Mingi’s head. “If I’m like you, then you’re more like me than you thought, too.”
Mingi smiles into his chest, the heat of his skin warming him, easing his heart rate. “We never talked about doing stuff with you separately.”
“You needed it,” Yunho reassures him, trying to avoid the oncoming spiral.
Mingi shakes his head, “I wanted it. There’s a difference.” Guilt doesn’t lie in the pit of his stomach, or regret. It doesn’t feel wrong, or like he made a mistake, it all feels… Right.
“How do you feel?” Yunho asks, pressing a kiss to Mingi’s head. “Better?”
“Much better,” Mingi whispers, nose nuzzled into Yunho’s skin, “You give ridiculously good head.”
Yunho snorts, “I’ve done that maybe four times in my entire life.”
Mingi pulls away, eyes wide as he stares up at his best friend, “No shot.”
Yunho nods, eyes flicking over his best friend’s face, “Swear.”
“Damn,” Mingi whispers, lowering his head again, “You should shower, coming in your pants like a high schooler after a wet dream.”
Yunho spits a tch, but Mingi was right. He probably hasn’t done that since he was that young, either. His heart thumps against his chest, there was so much changing, that sinking feeling dropping to the pit in his tummy, he was fucked. Both of you, demons, sex-loving demons.
Mingi ends up showering with him, all soft kisses and light touches, traveling hands and giggled words beneath bubbles and a steady stream of hot water. They slept on either side of you again, cooing when they entered the bedroom to find you snoring, cuddling a pillow, just to press up against either side of you, basking in your warmth.
Tangled beneath a baby pink comforter, tonight was a new beginning, a confirmation that you were all feeling while you were fucking. Yunho wished it didn’t consume him with dread, he knew how this would end, he foresaw it clearly.
But his control was gone.
And he didn’t want it back.
You woke up hot. A sheen of sweat covering your skin, you grimaced as you opened your eyes, peeling sheets and pushing arms away, crawling from the two masses of body heat suffocating you.
You opened the curtains in the living room, smiling as you felt the ache between your legs, a playback of last night on repeat in your mind as you stretched before the window, blinking away your exhaustion. Already sunny, it was far past sunrise, a sweet weekend morning. You felt light, at ease, happy— you rubbed at your wrists with the reminder of last night, making sure you didn’t dream the entire thing, that it really happened.
You experienced Yunho without restraint, on his end of course, since your restraint was everything you asked for. Dominance and control and everything powerful, last night would live with you, excitement making your heart skip a beat at the thought of Mingi doing the same.
You wondered how he was feeling, you didn’t get to talk to him last night. You talked with Yunho while you were in the bath, discussing everything you enjoyed, telling him how well he did while he praised you all the same, but you didn’t get a chance to do that with Mingi.
He was quiet after you finished, your head might have been hazy but you know him, and you know his silence. Nerves prick at the back of your neck— but you woke up tangled between them, so he couldn’t have been mad. You heave a heavy breath as you make your way to the kitchen, starting the coffee machine.
As if you Bluetooth connected, Mingi walks out into the kitchen from the hallway in nothing but his boxers. He yawns as he walks out, rubbing his eyes, his hair sticking out in every direction atop his head.
You squint at the bruises along his collar bone as you mumble Good morning, racking your brain for when you gave him hickeys. You haven’t given him hickeys since you were twenty three.
Your eyebrows raise as he gets closer, realization settling in that they weren’t from you. You smirk, “You had a good night last night.”
He drops his arms to his sides, frozen, eyes wide and guilty. Amusement leaves your nose in a snort, “And to think I went to bed under the impression there would be no more fun.”
Mingi’s eyes soften when he realizes you aren’t angry, “Yunho just… Made me feel better about some things.”
“Yeah?” You turn, back pressed against the counter, a smile playing on your lips. “Did he make you feel a lot better?”
He walks closer until he’s pressed to your front, hands finding your hips, “Yeah. But I think you will fix me.”
“And what am I fixing?” You tilt your head to the side, hands dancing along his chest, sliding up to throw your arms around him.
Mingi hums, bending down to bury his head into your neck, “Thought you liked him better than me.”
“Huh?” You tangle your hands in his hair, lips pressed to his head, “Baby, why would you think that?”
“I saw you two together,” he presses his lips to your neck, fingers gripping at your hips. You arch into him, brows furrowed at the words leaving his lips, feeling confused as he pushes himself against you.
“Mingi, I—”
He shushes you, hands traveling up from your hips to tuck under your tee, thumbs ghosting over your nipples, making you gasp into him. Your eyes flicker to the hallway, where Yunho lays asleep in your bedroom just ten feet away, arousal flooding your still sleeping body.
“But then he gave me head,” he says, tugging your shirt over your head, hiking you up from beneath your thighs to place you on the countertop. With your brows still knitted together, he keeps going, “And he made me cum so hard.”
Immediately his lips attach to your chest, your legs spread to allow him between them, “But no one can make me cum like you do.”
Your chin tips back as his hand slides between your legs, a whisper on your lips, “No one.”
“Say it again,” he squeezes one thigh, fingertips pressed to your clit through your panties.
You curse, hips attempting to buck into him, “No one can make you cum like I do.”
He growls, standing back to pull you off the counter. Your feet hit the tiled floor with a yelp, and he’s turning to you on your toes so your front presses against the counter. He’s got a hand steady on your spine, pushing you forward until your chest meets the laminate, the cold surface shocking a shiver through your body.
“Shit,” you curse, cheek pressed against the counter. He tugs your panties down to your thighs, the chilly morning air of your apartment ghosting over your center, making you whine.
“I wouldn’t change anything,” he mumbles, more to himself than you, you think, as his fingers swipe through your folds, collecting your wetness that pools steadily. “I’d watch it all over again, and then remind you both who you left out.”
You cry out as he sinks two fingers inside you and he snickers, “Yunho’s right, you really are a cockslut, huh?”
You moan, raising yourself on your tippy toes, palms planted against the edge of the counter as you push yourself back on him. His voice gains an edge as he curls them inside you, “Doesn’t matter whose it is, you need this pretty pussy filled all the time.”
You nod, eyes rolled to the back of your head, drool no doubt puddling beneath your parted lips, covering the laminate. He pulls his fingers out and you whine before they’re instantly replaced with his cock, sheathing himself inside you in one quick motion.
You wail, walls pulsing around him, fingers clawling at the counter. But you don’t look back, not as he fills you so deliciously, effectively fucking you dumb with his cock in your cervix.
“What’d I miss?” His voice snaps you out of your daydream, head picking up to see Yunho on the other side of the counter, leaning against it with his chin in his palm. He’s smiling, an eyebrow raised, eyes dark and cold. His eyes raise to Mingi behind you, “How’d you sleep?”
Mingi’s chuckle sends a rush of adrenaline down your spine, reaching where his palm stays heavy pressed above your ass. “Slept good,” he responds, voice too fucking nonchalant, “You tagging in?”
You cry out as he stills himself inside you, the full length of him reaching your tummy. He grabs you by your elbows, pulling you up to his chest, and your eyes fall on Yunho.
He’s smiling, shrugging. As if you weren’t being torn apart in front of him. “I like the view, don’t mind watching.”
You curse loud as Mingi pulls out, pushing himself all the way back in, his pace brutal as he holds your arms behind your back. His voice holds a steady clarity that makes you shiver, “Come here. Make her cum.” You clench around him, head dropping forward, and he holds your arms a little tighter. “She wants it, just squeezed me so fuckin’ hard.”
Yunho, shirtless, sweatpants hung low on his hips, walks around the counter to where you stood, pressing a kiss to Mingi’s lips. Mingi loosens his grip on your arms as Yunho deepens it, his hands on Mingi’s neck, the two all teeth and tongue. You can feel the pit in your stomach forming as he fucks into you steadily, you didn’t think you needed Yunho’s aid at all in making you finish.
But he falls to his knees anyway, hands spreading you before him, watching as Mingi’s cock slides in and out of your cunt. His eyes gloss over, pupils dilating, tongue poking out between his lips to run over the bottom one, red and swollen already.
“Taste her,” Mingi says from behind you, his pace not faltering once, “Taste us.”
Yunho’s eyes flicker to yours before he’s leaning in, sticking his tongue out flat, with each one of Mingi’s thrusts you rock forward, clit dragging against his tongue, over his nose. Your legs shake at the stimulation, at the pleasure, Mingi’s cock drilling into you in combination with Yunho’s wet, hot mouth on your clit, you wouldn’t last long at all.
“Don’t stop until I cum,” Mingi orders and your whole body clenches at the command behind his voice. Iced out and clear, he knew exactly what he was doing, you don’t know what the fuck happened last night but you were so fucking grateful it did.
Yunho’s hands are still spreading you, knees planted on the tile as you rock against him without any will of your own, body shaking between the two of them, your orgasm so close you could taste it on your tongue.
“Ask me,” Mingi says from behind you and he sounds ragged, rough. Your mind is blank, eyes unblinking and seeing nothing— he pulls your arms tighter, skin slapping against yours, “Ask me or you won’t fucking cum.”
“Please,” you heave, sounding more fucked out than you ever have, “Can I please cum?”
His teeth find your shoulder, clamping down on your skin and you nearly fold. Your eyes screw shut in an attempt not to cum, words slurring together, “Pleaseletmecum!”
Mingi licks where he bit you, “Cum for me, baby. Go ahead.”
Yunho’s hands slide to your thighs and you thank god he keeps his grip on you as he and Mingi push you over the edge. Your knees buckle as your orgasm hits its peak, upper body crumbling, the only thing keeping you from falling was Mingi’s grip on your arms.
You weren’t sure if sound was leaving you, if you could see, if you could hear, and Yunho still didn’t stop. Your orgasm drags on as your clit is mercilessly dragged over his tongue, his nose, his chin, Mingi’s cock still fucking into you brutally.
“So fucking wet,” he huffs in your ear, keeping you close to his chest, “Gonna fill you up, give you what you want. You want it?”
You nod, breath staggered, voice raw. “Need it, Min, please.”
He growls again, teeth hooking onto the back of your neck, biting down hard as his hips stutter, filling you with warm, heavy load. Yunho’s tongue falls lower to where you and Mingi meet, throwing your thigh over his shoulder as Mingi pulls out, eating every last drop of your mixed release.
You’re crying now, a cursing whining mess, Mingi’s forearm wrapped around your torso as he watches Yunho over your shoulder, keeping you steady, Yunho holding you open. Your head is fuzzy as it falls back on Mingi’s chest, breath heaving, tears streaming down to your jaw, falling onto your chest.
Yunho pulls away, licking his lips, and immediately their hands are on you. Soft, comforting, yours.
“Alive?” Mingi asks, pressing a kiss to the back of your neck, over where he’d bitten you.
You nod, dazed, and Yunho’s kissing down your thigh, rubbing the other one. Mingi pulls your hair off your face, off your neck, his voice airy, “That was really hot.”
“Do it again,” you sniff, one hand wiping at your chest, the other falling into Yunho’s hair below you, “Do that to me again and never stop doing it.”
Mingi laughs, pressing another kiss to the side of your head. Yunho stands, leaning back against the counter, and you eye him carefully, eyes showing him you were serious.
“I don’t have anything to do today,” his lips curl upward, devious.
“Neither do we,” you respond, finally unsticking from Mingi, legs wobbly as you take a step forward.
Mingi grabs onto your waist in fear that you’d fall. “Look at you, you want to go again?”
You turn around fully, his face flushed, stray hairs stuck to his forehead. Beautiful. You press a quick kiss to his lips before saying, “It’s research. Seeing how much I can actually take.”
His eyes lift, meeting Yunho’s gaze over your head, “See what I mean? Insatiable. She’ll fuck us dry.”
A smile breaks across your face and Yunho laughs behind you, a warmth pooling in your stomach that this is what you’ve been waiting for. Fear no longer lived inside you when you looked at Yunho, for what your feelings were becoming, for what lived in the future. You had everything you needed on either side of you, and that was more than enough.
The following weeks had become routine.
It didn’t matter if you worked or not. Waking up sandwiched between two bodies, coming home to one if not two in your living room, in your kitchen, tucked away in your bedroom, fast asleep. If Mingi wasn’t home yet, you went to Yunho’s place and texted him to meet you there.
On the weekends you now had four arms to carry your shopping bags. Farmers market, the mall, grocery shopping, after you’d arrive home and make dinner together, you’d end up on the couch, so close to finishing your Marvel Marathon. Now that you’re spending so much time together, the MCU seems fast-paced, easy to get through.
Save for the nights you don’t finish a single movie. When Yunho’s hand reaches across the back of the couch, circling around Mingi’s neck, or when you lay across Yunho’s lap a little too provocatively. Those nights are dedicated to the bedroom, when Yunho is teaching the two of you another lesson, when you and Yunho teach Mingi a lesson, when Yunho and Mingi are teaching you a lesson. Even after a movie or sometimes two, a weekday or a weeknight, you still ended up between the two beneath your baby pink comforter.
Sometimes you didn’t fuck at all. Those nights one of you usually falls asleep on the couch, and the other two drag Sleepy to bed, then the three of you fall asleep tangled, waking up in the same position you fell asleep in. A few times you all planned to go to bed, yawning, eyes drooping as they lost focus on the screen, but once you got to bed you couldn’t shut up.
Those times ended in conversation, long, deep conversation that kept you awake until the early hours of morning. Those conversations haunt you. The ones that remind you what you were doing, who you were with, what the fuck was happening.
That’s the one thing always left out, something unspoken.
What the fuck were you doing?
None of your friends knew who shared your bed. Not one of your coworkers, childhood friends, your cousins, no one knew that Jeong Yunho was splitting you open on a daily basis, or waking you up in the morning by pressing his lips to your jaw. No one knew about the nights you watched him take Mingi, fucking into him as he fucked into you, or the times you woke up to Mingi’s lips wrapped around his cock just before dawn. You didn’t speak a word of the times he comes over with arms full of grocery bags, all the things you usually buy, things you always keep a stock of because he knows.
Jeong Yunho pays attention, more than he should. He’s learned you and Mingi with ease, and not just your bodies. He’s come to understand how you feel with just a look, or your tone of voice, or your posture. Creepy at first, how he’d verbalize your thoughts, or tell you which part of your body ached, or hand you something you had just looked at. It was terrifying, until it became endearing. Until it felt like he knew you just as well as Mingi knew you.
You and Mingi had forgotten what alone time felt like after the second time Yunho sat on your mattress, and neither of you cared. Neither of you wanted it any other way— in the beginning, you called.
“Where are you?” You’d ask over the phone, a hand on your hip, foot tapping against the hardwood of your floor.
Yunho furrowed his brows from his apartment, “Home?”
“Why?” You’d ask sharply, “Come over.”
And he would. Every single time.
Eventually you stopped needing to call.
He’d call Mingi on his way home from work instead, phone on speaker in his car, “Do you guys need anything for dinner? I’m on my way.”
“Just your sexy ass in our house,” Mingi stuck his tongue out between his teeth, wiggling his eyebrows at you from across the kitchen. You rolled your eyes, a laugh rolling off your lips.
You were sure Yunho had the same reaction, a pretty chuckle sounding through the speaker, “I’ll be there in fifteen.”
It got to the point where if you did need anything, you texted him far before he left the office. Sometimes you didn’t need to ask, he had a mental note of everything in your apartment, he knew where everything was kept, what lived where.
A week before the beach trip now, you tried to not let your nerves bite at your neck. You haven’t spoken a word with either men in your home about what it’d be like, what you’d act like when you were away for a week with all your friends.
Boxes surrounded your living room, an IKEA couch you had just purchased on your last day trip with the two men. You were waiting for Yunho to be off work to put it together, a Friday, the night that has become takeout night before you put on a movie. This one was important— you were gonna watch the movie on your new couch, a deep gray color, and you’d tested the armrest thoroughly before buying it.
Three knocks sound at the door, and you hop up on your feet from the floor. “That’s Jihyo,” you say to Mingi before skipping over to the front door, whipping it open.
“You’re so funny,” you say as she comes into view, “It’s always open. Just come in, you don’t have to knock like you’re a stranger.”
Jihyo, dark hair covering her expensive clothes, sultry professional makeup enhancing each one of her horrifyingly perfect features. She smiles, stepping inside, “I feel weird just walking in, Jongho and I never leave our door unlocked.”
You snort, “Don’t feel weird. This is an open-door-house.”
She slips off her shoes, “Now you sound like Seonghwa.”
“If we walked in their house without warning they’d probably throw a block party in our honor,” you giggle, leading her inside.
“Hey Ji,” Mingi calls from the living room, slicing a box cutter through the cardboard.
She waves her greeting before following you to your hallway, into your bedroom. Your eyes scan your space before walking in as if you hadn’t checked it thirty times before she came over, there was no sign of Yunho anywhere.
You grab the bikini you had laid out on your dresser, a deep purple color with animal print on the bottoms, “Is this the one you were talking about?”
Her entire face lights up, snatching it from your hands, “I can’t believe you still have this.”
“I can’t believe you want to wear it,” you joke, “I haven’t worn that since… That week-long beach trip we took right after we graduated college.”
Jihyo’s eyes widened, jaw dropping, her voice turning to a whisper. “That’s the weekend you rejected that really sexy guy. What was his name? Jae-something?”
“Jaehyun,” you nod, lips forming a line at the memory. The boardwalk, then the club, then in front of your hotel, for days he had followed you everywhere, begging for a chance. Gorgeous as he was, cheekbones and the voice of a fucking angel, you had Mingi waiting for you at home.
She smacks your shoulder, head tipping back, “Still can’t get over that, you loyal bitch.”
You shrug, cheeks warming, “Mingi is Mingi, no one can compare.”
“I hope I get hit on by a sexy guy,” she holds up the bikini again, shreds of skinny fabric between her fingers, “Maybe it’ll remind Jongho who he’s dating.”
You pop a brow but she rolls her eyes, “He didn’t do anything wrong, I just feel like being messy.”
You snort again, shaking your head, “Well if you want any others, I have about forty college-bikinis on hand.”
“You better wear one,” she winks before she turns on her heel, exiting your bedroom. Under her breath, she says, “I wanna see Mingi lose his shit, I’ve been dying to see him lose his composure for years now.”
She comes to a stop at the end of your hallway, voice low, “Have you, you know… Spiced things up? Like you were planning to at Woo’s going away party?”
Your eyebrows met your hairline, a nervous chuckle pushing past your lips, “Oh!” You run a hand through your hair, still chuckling, “Yeah, actually, we did.”
Her jaw drops, eyes wide and sparkling, “You have to tell me all about it when we’re there.”
You nod, ears hot, “I will.”
She claps her hands together, smiling as she turns again, heading straight for your front door, “Thanks again for the sexy bikini!”
“Text me if you want any more,” you call after her.
“I will!” She calls back, “Bye Mingi!”
“Bye Ji!” And with that, your front door closes.
Just to be opened again two minutes later.
“Guys, so weird, I just saw Jihyo getting into her car,” Yunho’s still pointing outside your door with his thumb as he slips his shoes off, slacks hugging his long legs, button-up looking tailored to his lean torso.
You nod, already back on the floor, watching as Mingi unboxes the couch, “She was just here picking up a bikini for the beach house.”
Yunho’s eyebrows raise, smirk on his lips as he makes his way toward you, “Jihyo in a bikini, nice.”
You roll your eyes, but he’s already bending down to plant a kiss on your lips, whispering into your lips, “You’ll look sexier.”
Your cheeks flush as he makes his way to Mingi, planting a kiss on his lips, too. “Unboxing without me? Damn, I just got off work and you’re putting me back to work?”
Mingi flashes him a smile, “It’s IKEA. It’ll take us like ten minutes, tops.”
An hour later, you sat in Yunho’s old spot, a container of takeout in your hands as you watched the two men you adored bicker over the very clear instructions. It was as if you were watching a sitcom with the way they couldn’t figure out how to put it together, blaming each other, cursing when they put it together wrong.
It did not, in fact, take ten minutes.
Eventually you grew bored of their bickering, rolling your eyes before placing down your food and picking up the instruction manual yourself. After a quick skim of the papers, you took another look at what they had been attempting to do, bickering for ages over it, and sigh.
“Are you guys serious?” You looked up at the two of them through slanted brows, and they stare back at you with blank looks, sweat kissing their foreheads.
You drop the instruction manual to the hardwood, bending down between them, and screw the two parts of the couch that actually go together with the alan key provided. Mingi immediately looks up at Yunho, “That’s exactly what I told you to do and you said I was wrong.”
“I did not say not to put that—”
You tune them out, flipping the couch over on your own, throwing the cushions that had more than enough time to fluff out onto the frame. They’re still bickering as you cross the room, picking up your container of takeout, and sitting center of the couch you finished putting together.
“Have we ever told you that you’re super sexy?” Yunho says, taking his spot on your right. You roll your eyes, feeding him a bite of food from your container.
“Maybe once or twice,” you say, watching as Mingi starts breaking down the boxes, stuffing the styrofoam and plastic into a garbage bag.
Mingi stands tall before you, his hands stretched out in front of him in annoyance, “What, you two think that just because the couch is together there’s nothing left to do?”
“Come eat,” you say softly, holding up the container of food, “You did enough, my love. We can clean up later.”
He drops the garbage bag immediately, dropping himself on the couch to your left, opening his mouth as soon as his ass meets the cushions.
You feed him a bite too, a smile on your cheeks, and he grabs the remote from the floor beside you. He turns on the tv, and the three of you sit like that for what feels like forever. Random show playing, all eating out of the same container, contented and comfortable because you all felt at home.
Two days later, you were the last one to wake up. Something that rarely happens, but they had used you to their heart’s desire the night before, almost fucking you out of consciousness completely. You woke up sore. The smell of coffee coming from the kitchen, you willed yourself out of bed, one of Yunho’s tee shirts covering your body, hair probably matted at the back of your head. You didn’t care. They didn’t care.
Yunho stood behind the kitchen counter, hair wet, beads of water sliding down the center of his chest, towel tied around his waist. He must have just gotten out of the shower, you think maybe he has plans today. You find Mingi in the living room, nothing but boxers on his hips, laying horizontally on the couch as he watches a YouTube video on his phone.
“Goodmorning sunshine,” Yunho says with a smile as you stumble into the kitchen, eyes still hazy with exhaustion, your mind still fogged.
You stumble into him, hitting his bare, damp chest with your forehead, and he wraps his arms around you, kissing the top of your head. “Feeling okay? Sore anywhere?”
“Everywhere,” you moan, and you hear Mingi giggle from the living room. A smile curls at your lips, a giggle wanting to escape you, too.
“Aw,” Yunho cooes, pressing another kiss to your head, “Want me to kiss it better?”
You look up at him through your lashes, feigning irritation, “That would be nice of you, since you were the one that caused it.”
“You didn’t say Kiwi, don’t give me that,” he takes another sip of coffee from his mug, the one that has only been used by him the past month, then hands it to you. You take a sip, letting the warmth rejuvenate you, the sting of the caffeine buzzing your heart back to life.
He leans down, pressing a kiss to your lips, and the muted groan of your front door opening has your heart falling to the tiled floor.
“I’m here!” Jihyo calls through your apartment, and you pull away from Yunho, jumping back a massive five feet.
Fuck.
You rush around your counter, Mingi sitting up on the couch with wide eyes, Yunho sliding back behind the wall so he stays hidden.
Jihyo walks in with a smile on her face, she sees Mingi first. “Ew, why are you naked?”
She then turns, seeing you in all your glory, and her smile shifts into a smirk fast. “Oh.”
You smile nervously, “I forgot you were coming, I’m so sorry.”
“You suck,” she lifts her lip in annoyance, “I was so excited to just barge in here like you told me to, and here you are, clearly just fucked. What if I walked in when you were mid-fucking?”
Your hand finds your hair, awkwardly scratching at your scalp, forcing a laugh between your teeth, “I’m sorry, my bad, seriously. I have your other bikini, come here.”
She follows you into your bedroom, thankfully not looking behind her as she snickers to herself on your heel. “Cant believe I caught you,” she mumbles to herself, “It’s nine in the morning, you freaks.”
“To be fair we were fucking last night, not this morning,” you hold up a finger, opening the bikini drawer in your dresser.
“Girl,” she says, and the word sends a shiver down your spine, your back straightening at the tone. You whip around and she’s pointing at your mattress, at the tee crumpled across the foot of it or the hitachi wand laying on top, you weren’t sure.
The shirt was Yunho’s. An old tee from college, the same college they all went to, but you’ve only seen Yunho with it on. You weren’t sure if anyone else even owned the shirt.
“You really spiced shit up, a wand?” She squeals, “Haven’t seen one of these bad boys in years.”
You will your heart rate to slow, you could feel the thump in your fucking throat. You force a smile, chuckling awkwardly, turning back around to face your bikini drawer before your face reveals your thoughts.
She continues, “God, I can remember all the times I’ve experienced a wand so vividly. That same guy I told you about at Woo’s going away party, damn I miss his freak sometimes.”
You shake your head, searching through your swimsuits to find the one she texted you for yesterday, “Just buy one and tell Jongho what to do with it.”
The groan of annoyance she lets out is nostalgic. “I don’t want to have to tell him what to do, I want him to just know.”
You smirk to yourself, knowing you’ll never have that problem again. You pull out the bikini you were looking for, a micro top, micro bottoms, damn near string. You wondered how Jihyo was even going to fit all of her assets into this.
You couldn’t wait to see her try.
“Found it,” you hold the black string out to your friend, hoping your smile didn’t look full of relief that she can leave now.
“Thank you,” she tips her head back as she grabs the bikini with two hands, sounding like you’d just handed her a million dollars, “Jongho might actually fucking die when he sees me in this.”
“I think Mingi and Y- I might die when we see you in it, too,” you want to curse. You want to slap your hand over your mouth. How were you going to survive four days at the beach without anyone knowing anything?
“You know,” she lowers her voice, moving closer to you, “If I didn’t have Jongho and you and Mingi were looking for a third, I’d be first to volunteer.”
Your mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water. “I—Thank you?” You tilt your head, ghost of a smile on your face, confused but entertained, unsure exactly how you were supposed to take that.
“Ugh, I can’t wait to see Sana,” she turns on her heel, heading for your hallway, and you cringe at the idea of Yunho being in eyesight. “She said she thinks Wooyoung is proposing soon, you know. By the way, any updates on when Mingi might—”
She stops dead in her tracks.
You nearly stumble straight into her.
“Oh shit,” she whispers, and you slide around her, catching Yunho who was mid-walk to the living room with the towel still on his fucking waist.
He looks like a deer caught in headlights, Mingi looks between the three of you, face completely lost.
She turns around, slowly.
“You really did spice shit up.”
“It’s not what it looks like,” is the first thing that leaves your lips, a quick-witted rescue with not a single stutter, “His bathroom is getting fixed, he has no water. He's just here to shower.”
She pouts, “Man, I thought I stumbled onto something juicy. I thought it was his shirt when I saw it on your bed, you know, underneath the vibrat—”
“It’s Mingi’s shirt,” you wave a hand, forcing yet another smile on your face. You lick your lips, reminding yourself that Yunho lives twenty minutes away while Hongjoong and Seonghwa are just ten from his apartment. If all he needed to was shower, he could just go there.
Jihyo turns back around, laughing now, pointing to Yunho and Mingi in the living room. “I would have believed it, with how close y’all are,” she’s still giggling as you guide her to the front door, “That’s not a bad idea. You should keep that in mind.”
“Bye Ji,” you run a hand through your hair as she slips her shoes on, “Text me if you need another ‘kini.”
“I might ask to borrow that wand,” she winks as she opens the front door.
You close it behind her, yelling, “Buy your own, nasty!”
You get the door closed with your back pressed flat against it, releasing the heaviest breath you’ve ever taken. You close your eyes for a second, letting the reality of the situation sink in, before you’re pushing off the door and marching into the living room.
“Why didn’t you tell me she was coming over?” Yunho bites as soon as you enter his vision. Voice sharp and eyes wild, he was pissed. Actually pissed.
“Clearly I forgot,” you raise both your hands, meeting his energy, “And we would have gotten away with it if you listened.”
“You were quiet in there!” He argues, “I moved because I thought the coast was clear.”
“The coast was clear the entire time we were in there, Yunho,” your hand points to the hallway.
He runs both hands through his hair, pacing around your living room, “Do you think she believed you?”
“Probably,” you shrug, “Hopefully.”
“Can I ask a question?” Mingi asks from the couch, holding up a finger. When you and Yunho stare at him with fires in your eyes, he blinks. “Why are you arguing about this? Who cares if she knows?”
Your lips part, ready to argue, but you didn’t have an answer. You turn to Yunho.
His eyebrows are raised, a smile on his face that reads disbelief, “Who cares if she knows? Let’s just tell the whole friend group that we’re fucking, because that will go over well.”
Mingi turns to you, confusion written in the knit of his brow. We’re still just fucking?
You give him the smallest of shrugs. I guess so.
Mingi turns to Yunho, “I don’t think we would say that.”
Yunho cocks his head, brows fusing together as he looks between the two of you, “What else is there to say?”
Mingi meets your eye again, brows raised. Oh.
Your lips purse. Guess we’re just fucking.
Mingi frowns, and you give him a small, sad smile.
“Don’t do the thing,” Yunho points a finger between the two of you, “Where you talk in your heads and you leave me out of the conversation. Don’t do that.”
“Okay,” you heave a sigh, walking towards the couch, taking your spot next to Mingi. “We won’t.”
Yunho laughs, “And now it’s you two versus me? Because I don’t want Jihyo to know my business?”
“I don’t want her to know our business either,” you bite back, voice equally as sharp. “That’s why I lied, since it’s your shirt crumpled on our bed under the vibrator and you walking around our apartment half naked.”
“Hey,” Mingi interjects in an attempt to be stern, “Relax, both of you, Jesus. What is going on right now?”
“I’m going to get dressed,” Yunho huffs, turning on his heel to your bedroom, where he already had a drawer full of his clothes.
When he’s out of earshot, Mingi turns to you, wide-eyed. “What the fuck just happened?”
You shrug, anger settling into the shape of your jaw. “I think we just broke up.” Your hands curl at your sides so you fold your arms over your chest, “But apparently there was nothing to break up in the first place.”
masterlist
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SYNOPSIS ⤏ there's no one you hated more than the infamous deadpool, and there's no one you loved more than the friendly spiderman; but it just so happens that the crime fighting partners were some of your closest friends.
PARING ⤏ deadpool! mingi x fem! reader x spiderman! yunho
GENRE ⤏ smau, rom-com, superhero au, enemies?? to lovers, love triangle
FEATURING ⤏ ateez, shuhua from idle, soobin from txt
FACECLAIM ⤏ faceclaim for y/n purely for picture purposes!! (@ 1_ran.thanx on ig)
PLAYLIST ⤏ it's on again, alicia keys & kendrick lamar | self love, metro boomin & coi leroy | heavenly, cigarettes after sex | back on 74, jungle | just like heaven, the cure | hurts me, wallows | bye bye bye, nsync | sos, rihanna | after the storm, kali uchis, tyler the creator & bootsy collins | the subway, chappell roan
Sunghoon is a full-time fuckboy with a habit of never staying until the morning. You’re not into casual. Not into games. Not into the way he looks at you like you’re next. And yet, something about him sticks. Something behind the smirk, the flirting, the pretty face. You swore you'd never fall for a guy like him.
But then again…never say never.
✴︎ 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨: fuckboy!sunghoon x hook-up culture hater!reader
fluff, slow-ish burn but not really tbh, trust issues, sunghoon is a b-boy, reader likes photography and hates hook-ups, soft smut, weak in the knees, he looks at you like you’re worth everything, sensual intimacy... I am bad at this
✴︎ 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: themes of hookup culture, emotional vulnerability, light angst, reader struggles with trust/intimacy, smut (minors dni)
10.8k words
You’re sitting on a kitchen counter, legs swinging, drink in hand, detached from the mess of bodies around you. The music’s too loud, the lights too low, and the air smells like cheap beer and desperation.
Small town house parties are always the same.
Predictable. Repetitive. Pathetic.
You’re not drunk, not even tipsy. Just observant. Detached. Watching the night unravel around you. Trying to pass time until your friend’s done pretending this place has something new to offer.
Then you notice him.
Park. Fucking. Sunghoon.
The local fuckboy with a reputation thicker than the scent of cologne trailing behind him. He’s all lazy smirks and sinful stares, the kind of boy who knows he’s wanted, and acts like the world owes him something for it.
Girls notice him. Of course they do. Their eyes flick to him like moths to an expensive flame.
His hair’s a little too perfect, that jacket too clean for a night like this. He makes eye contact with three of the girls on his way across the room. All of them smile. None of them hold his attention.
Until he sees you.
You sit on the counter like it’s the only place in the room that isn’t spinning. Not drinking to blur the night. Not trying to be seen. Just… occupying space.
You’re wearing black. Always black. Not because you’re trying to be edgy, but because it doesn’t stain, and it makes people assume you’re colder than you are. Which helps. People leave you alone when they can’t quite figure out if you’re worth the effort.
Your lip gloss is half-faded, and you’ve reapplied it twice with the tiny mirror in your phone, only because you like the way it catches the light when you talk. You’ve got that look in your eyes — one part bored, one part dangerous. Not in a loud way. Not in a “who’s that girl?” kind of way. More like background static. A presence.
And Sunghoon is intrigued by that.
You’ve already said no to two guys. One of them slurred something about your legs, and the other asked if you were “waiting for someone.” You told him you were waiting for the earth to split open and swallow this whole place.
You weren’t joking.
Sunghoon looks at you like you’ve interrupted something inside him. Like he wasn’t planning to notice you, and now he can’t stop. He lingers near the edge of the kitchen for a moment, half-listening to whatever some girl’s saying, before peeling away like her voice just turned to a quiet hum.
He walks like someone who never rushes. Someone who knows the room bends for him whether he tries or not.
And now he’s right in front of you.
“Well, don’t you look comfortable,” he says, voice full of honey-laced mischief. “You always sit up there?” he asks, head tilted like he’s genuinely curious.
You sip your drink. “Only when I don’t feel like talking to people.”
He grins at that. “Too bad. I’m Sunghoon.”
You raise a brow. “I know who you are.”
“And yet,” he says smoothly, “you’re not impressed.”
“Not even a little.”
He leans in, mouth closer now, like he’s used to his smile doing half the work for him. “Then tell me what would impress you.”
You set your drink down and tilt your head, smiling sweetly. Almost sympathetically.
“If you’re talking to me just to get your dick sucked,” you say, “you should look somewhere else.”
His smirk falters for a beat, like he wasn’t expecting you to cut to the chase. You let the silence hang, watching the flicker of ego rearrange behind his eyes.
“There’s plenty of girls here who’d gladly drop to their knees for you,” you add, swinging one leg slowly back and forth. “You shouldn’t waste your time on me.”
Sunghoon recovers fast, smile curving back into place like he enjoys the challenge.
“What if I want you on your knees?”
You don’t flinch. Don’t laugh. You just lean forward until your mouth is barely an inch from his ear. Your breath brushes his skin, and you swear you feel him tense.
“You’d have to deserve it first.”
Then you pull back, like you didn’t just light a fire in him and hop off the counter, boots hitting the floor with a satisfying thud, and walk past him without a second glance. Just as your best friend rounds the corner from the hallway, fresh from the bathroom, eyes searching the crowd for you.
But he follows and you feel his presence before you hear his voice.
“Wait—” Sunghoon calls out, weaving through people until he’s at your side again. “Hey, at least give me your number.”
You glance up at him, a smirk tugging at your mouth despite yourself. Life is a little too boring for you these days, maybe toying with him a bit could make things more interesting. His expression is less cocky now. More curious. Like he doesn’t quite know what the hell just happened, but he wants to.
To put it simply, he isn’t used to rejection.
You hand him your phone wordlessly. He types something in, presses ‘call’ so you’ll have his too, and gives it back with a grin that’s more genuine than you expected.
As you slide it into your back pocket and continue walking, your very drunk best friend nudges you with her elbow, brow raised.
“Who was that?” she asks.
You don’t look back.
“No one,” you say. “For now.”
Sunghoon watches the swing of your hair vanish between strangers and basslines, and for the first time in a long while, he feels like he didn’t get what he wanted. At least not right away.
Which is… irritating.
Because he didn’t come here to get rejected.
He came to this party for the usual: a warm body, a messy kiss, something quick and meaningless to pass the time. That’s the game. That’s what people like him do.
Approach. Flirt. Fuck. Never speak again.
But then there was you.
Sitting on the bar like a dare. Eyes glazed with disinterest. Lip gloss smudged. You didn’t look at him like he was something you wanted. And that should’ve been enough to make him walk away. He should’ve let it go. Find someone easier. Someone already halfway in love with the idea of him.
But no. You gave him nothing, and now he wants everything.
You weren’t supposed to say no. You weren’t supposed to smile like you saw straight through him. You weren’t supposed to hand him your number and then walk away uninterested, like it didn’t cost you a single breath.
Now he’s standing there with your number in his phone, your voice still in his ear, and all he can think about is how you didn’t laugh when he said he wanted you on your knees. You just leaned in and whispered something that flipped the entire room on its head.
You’d have to deserve it first.
Fuck.
He wishes he could just fuck you and forget it. Quick and easy. Something physical to burn through and leave behind. But you’re not that kind of flame.
You’re the slow kind.
The kind that leaves marks.
And the worst part? He likes it.
There’s a challenge in you he didn’t expect. A power in the way you don’t try to be wanted. You’re not throwing glances. You’re not performing. You’re just there, sharp and solid and untouchable.
And now you’re stuck in his head.
So he does something he’s never had to do before: he texts you first.
You take your time getting ready.
Not because you’re nervous. Not because you care. But because if you’re going to waste your night on a fuckboy, you might as well look like the kind of girl a fuckboy loses sleep over.
Your room’s quiet, save for the occasional buzz of your phone…another text from Sunghoon, probably. He’s sent three since this morning. One said, “still on for tonight?” The second was a TikTok he clearly thought was funny enough to share (it wasn’t). The latest? A picture of his car parked in your driveway with the caption: “I’m outside. Try not to fall in love or whatever.”
You rolled your eyes so hard you gave yourself a headache. You know exactly what this is.
Park Sunghoon isn’t subtle. He didn’t text you because he wants to “get to know you.” He’s not suddenly into conversation or complicated girls who don’t melt at his smile and laugh at his jokes. He texted because you didn’t play the game. Because you made it clear he’d have to try if he wants you moaning his name.
And men love a challenge, don’t they?
Especially if their ego is on the line.
That’s what makes this fun. He’s trying so hard for a mere one-night stand. And you? You haven’t even started properly toying with him.
You’re not going on this date because you’re interested. You’re going because you’re bored. Because toying with a man like Sunghoon, who’s used to girls bending over backwards for a one-word text and a half-hearted grin, sounds like a fun way to spend your Friday.
Let him think he’s winning, just long enough to keep him coming back. And when he’s invested enough to stop pretending it’s all casual, you’ll remind him that you never planned on giving him anything at all.
This is going to be fun.
By the time you open the door, you’re in your boots, jacket slung over one shoulder, keys in hand, and zero intention of pretending you’re excited. He stands up from leaning against his car like he’s in some teen drama, all smirks and practiced charm.
“Well, don't you look beautiful,” he says and hands you a bouquet of lilies.
You give him a once-over. “Thanks, the flowers are pretty.”
He chuckles. “Figured it was the bare minimum.”
“How rare. A man aware of what that means.”
He opens the passenger door for you, and you slide in without a word. The flowers sit in your lap, an unexpected prop in whatever performance he’s trying to put on tonight. You don’t hate it. But you don’t fall for it either.
The car smells like a cologne sample someone rubbed on a credit card bill. Clean, expensive, trying too hard. He gets in on the driver’s side. Glances at you, then at the road.
“You didn’t text back.”
“Didn't feel like it.”
A beat of silence.
“You’re not like other girls, huh?”
You blink once. Then scoff, full-bodied and shameless, turning your head to stare at him like he’s just insulted your entire bloodline.
“Don’t ever say that again.”
He laughs, genuinely this time, even if a little nervous at your outburst. “Right. Okay. Got it.”
The drive is quiet for a moment, save for the playlist he queued up. Something chill. Something he probably played for every other girl he thought he had to vibe with.
“You know,” he says eventually, “you never told me your name.”
“Didn’t think you needed it. You seemed more interested in what I’d look like in your backseat.” You shrug as the car pulls into the parking lot of some half-decent diner. Neon signs. Flickering lights. A place people go when they’re too tired to cook or too young to care about ambiance. He parks, cuts the engine, and looks over.
He sputters. “That’s not…okay, fair.”
You smile to yourself. This is already better than expected.
He steps out first, rushes to your side, and opens your door like he’s got something to prove. You raise an eyebrow as you get out. “Chivalry?” you murmur. “Cute.”
Inside, the diner hums with low conversation and clinking silverware. The waitress barely glances up as she hands you menus and leads you to a booth tucked in the back. There's dim lighting, cracked leather seats, and just enough privacy to pretend this is something more than it is.
Sunghoon slides into the seat across from you, stretches his legs like he owns the space between you, and rests his elbow on the edge of the table.
“You really don’t want to be here, do you?”
You look up from the menu. “Not particularly.”
He huffs out a laugh, leans back. “Then why’d you come?”
You tap a manicured nail against the tabletop. “I was bored.”
“Boredom,” he repeats. “Harsh.”
“Honest.” You don’t soften the blow. You don’t apologize.
He flips the menu shut. “Alright then, honesty for honesty. You caught my attention that night. Like actually caught it. That doesn’t happen.”
You raise a brow. “How tragic for you.”
“Okay, damn.” He laughs. “You’re not gonna let me have one sincere moment?”
“Maybe. If it’s a good one.”
You sip your drink when it arrives. He does too. There’s a pause between you, not awkward, just heavy with whatever this is turning into.
And then, because you feel like it, you lean back in your seat and finally say it. Low and slow. Like giving him your name is an offering, not a courtesy.
“It’s Y/N.”
His eyes flicker. “Y/N,” he repeats, like he’s trying it out on his tongue. “Pretty.”
You hold his gaze. “Don’t ruin it.”
He smiles. But it’s not that cocky grin from the party. It’s quieter. More real. The kind of smile someone gives when they don’t know they’re doing it. And for just a moment, you feel it. That flicker in your chest. That tiny, traitorous skip in your pulse. You crush it immediately.
The plates hit the table with a muted clink. Greasy diner food. Something deep-fried. Something Sunghoon didn’t even look at the name of before ordering. You’re too busy watching the way the window beside you stains his skin in washed-out blue and buzzing pink, like a painting someone left out in the rain.
He picks up a fry. Spins it between his fingers like he's stalling.
"So," he says after a beat, “you don’t do small talk.”
“Only with people I’m trying to impress.” You say as you pop a cherry into your mouth from your drink. It crunches between your teeth.
“Alright. No small talk. Big talk, then.”
You raise an eyebrow, chewing slowly.
“Big talk?”
“Yeah. Like… the kind that changes the mood, for better or worse.”
You snort softly. “Was there a mood?”
“Not yet,” he says, mouth twitching. “But I’m working on it.”
There’s a small pause. He breaks first.
“I dance,” he says, eyes still on the table. “Breakdancing, mostly. I’m in a crew. We battle.”
That catches you off guard. You glance at him. “Like… actual dance battles?”
“Yeah,” he nods, like this is the part where most people either tune out or mock him. “Underground stuff. There’s a warehouse in Hongdae that we use to host dance battles occasionally. I’ve been doing it since I was a kid.”
You take another sip of your drink. Let the silence stretch before answering.
“That’s kind of sick.”
He meets your gaze, surprised. “Yeah?”
You nod. “You don’t seem like the type to care about anything enough to practice it.”
That earns you a laugh, a real one. Soft. Eyes crinkling. “Okay, harsh. But fair,” he says, grinning, but then he sobers a little. “I’ve got a younger sister. She’s eight. I show her videos from the battles. She thinks I’m famous or something, it's super cute.”
That makes you pause. You hadn’t expected softness from him. Not this kind. Not this early.
“What’s her name?” you ask before you can stop yourself.
“Yeji,” he says, voice quieter now. “She paints flowers on my sneakers when I’m not looking.”
You smile. And this time, it’s not calculated.
There’s a lull. Not awkward. Just… gentle. Like a breeze passing through the booth. The sound of silverware, of soft pop songs from the speakers above, of the world going on without noticing that something strange and delicate is blooming between two strangers under neon lights.
He nods at you, finally.
“Your turn.”
You raise a brow. “For what?”
“Big talk.”
You hesitate. Then wipe your hands on a napkin and lean back into the cracked leather.
“I’m starting college after summer ends,” you say. “Communications major. Media and stuff.”
He nods. “You excited?”
You stare at him. Then softly answer, “I’m terrified.”
He doesn't smile at that. Doesn’t laugh. Just let it sit there like he knows how heavy it is to admit something like that out loud. “Good,” he says eventually. “Means you give a shit.”
“I also do photography,” you say suddenly, like it slipped out by accident.
He tilts his head. “Yeah?”
You nod, eyes tracing the condensation sliding down your glass. “Started when I was fifteen. Took my mom’s old camera one day and never really put it down.”
“What do you shoot?”
You hesitate. Then answer like it’s a secret. “People. Usually strangers and their movement. Or hands. I like hands… they tell you everything,” you say. “Nervous tics. Calluses. Scars.”
He nods, quiet for once. “That’s cool. I get that, actually.”
You raise an eyebrow. “You get the hand thing?”
“I mean… I get watching movement. Reading people without them noticing. It's kind of the same with dancing,” he says, scratching the back of his neck like he’s just now realizing it. “When I’m battling, I don’t just move, I watch. How someone shifts their weight. How they breathe before a drop. Trying to predict their moves. It’s all there, even in their hands.”
You blink, a little surprised. Not by what he said, but by the fact that he said it at all. That he said it like it meant something. A small silence curls between you, not awkward, just heavy with mutual understanding.
He gestures toward your drink with a flick of his fingers. “So do you just carry your camera everywhere like a spy? Or are you gonna show me one of these mysterious hand photos?”
You smirk. “It’s in my bag.”
You reach down and pull it out; it's nothing too fancy, just a camera that’s clearly lived a life. Paint on the strap. A sticker half-peeled off the bottom. Dings, dents, charms.
He whistles low, impressed. “This thing’s got stories.”
“So do the people in it,” you say. Then, without warning, you lift the camera and snap a picture of him mid-sip, his eyes wide with surprise, a little drip of water sliding down his chin.
“Hey!” he coughs, setting his glass down. “Rude,” he laughs, then points a dramatic finger at you. “I've got a crazy good idea, next battle you’re coming with me. I want you to photograph me spinning on my head, looking like a tornado.”
You arch a brow. “Big words for someone who just got caught mid-sip looking like a confused turtle.”
“I have layers,” he says, grinning. “Besides, I think it'd be cool. You… behind the lens. The crowd in motion. My crew on the dance floor. Just thinking about it makes me excited.”
You pause. Not because you don’t want to go. But because, somehow, in the middle of teasing and you trying to act nonchalant… that felt real. Like an invitation that meant something.
You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, looking down at your camera. “That could be nice.”
He leans forward, elbows on the table, voice quieter now. “You ever show your photos to anyone?” You shrug at that. “Sometimes. Online, mostly. But not really the ones that matter.”
His brow furrows. “Why not?”
“Because those are the ones that feel like me,” you say, barely above a whisper. “And people don’t always know what to do with that.”
Sunghoon doesn’t say anything for a beat. Then he finally breaks the silence, “I’d get it. If you ever wanted to show me.”
You glance up, caught off-guard again. He’s not smirking this time. No teasing. Just looking at you like you’re not some game to figure out, but something already worth knowing. Is this all a scheme of his to get you naked? It doesn't feel like it is.
And you hate that your heart stumbles for it.
So you lift the camera again and snap another photo, catching him with his chin resting in one hand, eyes soft and steady.
“What now?” he asks.
You smile, just a little. “That one’s for me.”
The drive back is quiet in that way late-night rides sometimes are—comfortable, laced with half-thoughts and glances that last too long. The radio hums with something lo-fi and low-effort, the kind of music meant to fill the space without asking too many questions. City lights blur past in streaks, all neon pinks and golds, casting moving shadows across the interior of the car. Sunghoon drums his fingers lightly against the steering wheel. You pretend not to notice when he glances at you during red lights.
“So,” he says eventually, voice breaking the silence like it’s a bubble. “Was I... tolerable company tonight?”
You stretch in your seat, turning toward the window with a deliberately long sigh. “You didn’t talk with your mouth full. Or take a selfie mid-meal. So yeah, I’ve survived worse.”
He chuckles, low and genuine. “Wow. High praise.”
“Don’t let it get to your head,” you murmur. “That thing’s already struggling for space.”
He gives you a mock-wounded look before returning his focus to the road, a lopsided smile still tugging at his lips. Outside, the city starts to thin. Fewer cars. Quieter streets. The kind of quiet that almost feels private. And then there it is, your street, familiar and dim under the yellow haze of tired streetlamps.
He pulls into your driveway like he’s done it before. Like it’s already a routine. The engine cuts, leaving only the clicking of the cooling hood and your shallow breaths in the stillness. Neither of you moves for a second.
“Do I get a rating? Like out of ten?” he starts again, voice softer now.
You pretend to think. “Five. But I added points for the lilies.”
“Five?” he echoes, hand pressed dramatically to his chest. “This is the worst review I’ve ever received.”
“You’ll survive.” You reach for the door handle. He beats you to it.
You watch, vaguely amused, as he jogs around the car and opens your door like this is prom night. You step out slowly, eyes still on him, one brow raised.
“Chivalry again?” you ask, dry.
He shrugs, hands in his pockets again. “Get used to it.”
The walk to your front step is a few feet, but feels longer with the weight of unsaid things trailing behind you. You reach the door, keys already in hand, but he lingers, half a step closer than necessary. He’s looking at you the way people do when they’re working up to something. You can feel it before he says anything. The almost electric silence of someone about to act on a maybe.
“So…” he starts, leaning in just slightly, his lips getting dangerously close to yours. Not cocky this time. Not performative. Just… hopeful. Curious. You let him get close, just enough to think he might get away with it. And then you tilt your head at the last second, barely dodging his lips, and instead whisper near his ear, voice velvet-smooth:
“Good night, Sunghoon.”
You step back before he can recover, watching the flicker of surprise flash across his face. His lips part slightly, brows lifting just a touch. He laughs. It’s not loud, but it’s full-bodied. Like he wasn’t expecting it, but he’s not mad about it either.
“I should’ve known,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “You really aren’t gonna make this easy, are you?” You smile, faint and dangerous. “What would be the fun in that?”
“You like messing with me.” He watches you for a beat, eyes trailing from your mouth to your gaze like he’s trying to memorize something he shouldn’t want this badly.
You turn the key in the lock, glancing at him over your shoulder.
“You're figuring that out just now?”
A pause. His smirk deepens, sharp at the corners but softer underneath.
“See you at the dance battle then?”
You nod once, pulling the door open just enough to slip inside. “You better win,” you say, not even looking back. “I’ll be watching.” And then the door clicks shut, leaving him on your porch, hands in his pockets, smirking at the wood grain like he’s just been played and loved every second of it.
The smell hits first: concrete, sweat, smoke, and adrenaline. The floor’s already alive when you get there. There’s no “door.” Just a guy on the stairs who eyes your camera and gives you a nod when you flash the printed flyer. He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t need to. The music’s already doing enough of the talking.
The battle’s set in a cavernous underground parking garage, fluorescent lights flickering overhead like they’re on their last breath. Concrete walls are sprayed with layers of graffiti – colorful tags, sprawling murals, sharp symbols screaming of a thousand nights like this one. Every inch hums with grit and possibility, like the whole place is waiting to catch someone mid-air.
Inside, the crowd’s tight, hungry. Hoodies and snapbacks. Pretty girls in cargos and gold hoops. Crews clustered like wolfpacks around the taped-off cypher, all waiting for blood. The floor space is roughly duct-taped off, even though everyone knows the rules: no pushing in, no touching, and if you enter the circle, you better have something to show off.
Music pulses through the space, old-school breakbeats with heavy bass that thumps in your chest and seeps into your bones. The DJ’s scratching keeps everything tight, carving breaks sharp enough to slice through the tension.
A speaker thuds out a beat hard enough to shake your spine, and the crowd roars as two b-boys launch into a footwork exchange. Quick, sharp, controlled chaos. 6-steps, elbow freezes, and windmills turning to flares. One misstep and the circle eats you alive.
You stay on the edges, camera in hand. You’re not here to dance.
You’re here to watch him.
Sunghoon.
You spot him across the room instantly. Black joggers, scuffed at the hem, catching on the gritty floor. White tee under an oversized hoodie that sways with him, a quiet shout of street style against the raw backdrop. A bandana tied around his wrist. His crew stands nearby, dapping each other up, heads nodding to the beat. He hasn’t seen you yet.
Good.
You lift your camera and frame the shot, his profile lit by the glow of cheap LED strip lights, backlit by movement. You click once. Then again. Candid.
The DJ cuts the track mid-beat, and a ripple moves through the crowd like lightning. A new challenger steps into the circle.
"Next up," someone calls, "Echo versus Icey." A scream erupts
That’s him. Icey.
You didn’t realize it at first, but break dancers usually go by nicknames. It’s just how the culture works. Everyone has these sharp, catchy handles that stick way better than their real names. Makes sense when you think about it. When you’re spinning, flipping, and throwing down moves that look like they belong in a comic book, your given name just doesn’t cut it.
Take Sunghoon, for example. It’s like a secret identity, a persona that’s bigger than life on the floor. You wonder what your nickname would be if you ever stepped in.
Sunghoon makes his way towards the dance floor, and the crowd tightens.
You raise your camera again.
He doesn’t start big. Just a bounce. Head nod. A few toprock steps that look too casual to be serious — until he drops, spins into a windmill and snaps into a hollowback freeze so clean you hear people yelling from across the garage.
It’s flow. Pure flow. Controlled power. Every move connected, like his bones know where the music’s going before the DJ does. He battles like someone with something to prove, but nothing to lose. Like he doesn’t just want to win, he wants to be remembered.
And in the middle of a thread combo so tight it looks animated, he glances your way. Direct. Sharp. Then he finishes the set with an elbow freeze, legs up, chest forward, eyes still on you.
You click the shutter. Again. And again.
After the round, crews slap hands, people whistle, and the music doesn’t stop. The battle goes on. But you move around the space, framing him between silhouettes, graffiti, limbs in motion. You don’t notice when he disappears from the cypher. But you do feel him appear behind you.
“You get my good side?”
The voice is lower now. Sweaty. Slightly out of breath. You don’t turn around immediately.
“I don’t know,” you reply, adjusting your lens. “You blur a lot when you spin.”
He leans over your shoulder slightly, not touching, but close enough that you feel the heat radiating off him. “Let me see?”
You show him one photo. It’s mid-freeze, motion caught mid-breath, body held in defiance of gravity. But it’s not the move that makes it good, it’s the expression. Focused. Drenched in light and shadow. Alive.
Sunghoon whistles under his breath. “Damn.”
You glance at him sideways. “You impressed?”
He shrugs. “I mean... I look kind of hot.”
“You looked kind of unhinged. Like you were about to levitate.”
“Same thing,” he smirks. “On a serious note, it's really good. Like really, really good. I might even print it out.” That makes you blush a little. He continues, “My crew’s doing a block party tomorrow. Real open floor. Bring your camera. Could use someone with your eye.”
You raise a brow. “You just want free promo.” He grins wider. “Nah. I just like having you around.” You snort at that, “You’re lucky you’re good.”
He’s quiet for a second, “I meant it. You’ve got an eye. Come shoot us.”
You finally nod, and then you lift your camera again and say, “Smile.”
He flashes a peace sign, sticking his tongue out. You snap it.
Ugly. Dumb. A mess of a shot.
You love it instantly.
The battles go on, and you find yourself captivated.
Finally, Sunghoon’s name rings out over the speakers. First place. The crowd roars, but before the noise can swallow you whole, he’s already making his way toward you, weaving through the crowd with a grin that’s all kinds of dangerous and playful.
Before you can blink, he’s at your side and then, without warning, he scoops you up like you weigh nothing at all. Your laughter spills out, light and breathy, echoing against the concrete walls. His arms are strong and warm, steadying you as the world tilts a little in the best possible way.
“You’re heavy,” he teases, voice rough and low, but there’s something soft in the way he looks at you. You giggle again, wrapping your arms loosely around his neck. “Lucky you’ve got muscles.”
He holds you a moment longer, like he’s savoring the space between battle and celebration, then pulls back just enough to grin down at you.
“Give me a sec,” he says, eyes flickering to the side. “Gotta do something.”
You watch as he steps away, the grin fading into something more serious. Across the circle, the second-place dancer stands, chest heaving, sweat slicked over his skin, eyes glazed with exhaustion and worry.
Sunghoon approaches, calm but purposeful. Without hesitation, he presses the prize money into the other guy’s hand. “For your mom,” he says quietly. The man blinks, shock rooting him in place. His voice cracks as he tries to speak. “I… I can’t. This is your prize.”
Sunghoon shrugs, eyes steady, voice soft. “I heard she’s in the hospital. Needs it more.”
For a moment, the world stills. The man’s fingers close slowly over the cash, gratitude and disbelief mingling in his expression. “Thank you,” he breathes, voice thick with emotion. Sunghoon just nods and turns back toward you, a small, almost shy smile pulling at his lips.
You stand there, heart pounding, the camera forgotten in your hand, watching the quiet strength behind his gesture. When he reaches you again, you look up into his eyes and say, “That was… very kind of you.”
Sunghoon’s gaze softens. “This whole thing is not just about winning. It’s about what you stand for.” You swallow at that, heart tightening with something you can’t quite name. The noise of the crowd fades, replaced by the steady thrum of your own breath and the sudden heat of his presence beside you.
He squeezes your hand gently, just for a second, before stepping back to the circle. The moment feels charged, like a secret passed between two people who don’t need to say more. You lift your camera slowly, capturing a shot of him looking out over the crowd, victorious.
“Come on,” he says with a grin, voice teasing but warm. “Dance with me?”
You blink, caught off guard by the invitation, a spark of something electric igniting under your skin. The crowd’s roar fades again, this time replaced by the pulse of the beat you can still hear in your chest. Your fingers tighten around the camera, hesitant but curious.
“Dance with you?” you echo, voice a little breathless.
He nods, stepping closer, his eyes bright with challenge and something softer, a silent promise that this moment is just for the two of you.
The circle clears, or maybe it just feels that way. He offers his hand, steady and warm, and you take it, letting him pull you into the middle of the cypher. The music swells again, bass thumping through the concrete like a heartbeat.
You don’t know many moves, you’re not a dancer, but Sunghoon’s rhythm wraps around you, guiding, coaxing. His laughter is low and contagious, and soon you find yourself moving, swaying, caught in the simplicity of the moment.
For a few minutes, it’s just the two of you: the music, the flash of his grin, your breath mingling in the air between you. No prizes, no crowds, no expectations. Just this fragile, perfect thread of connection.
When the song ends, he pulls you close, resting his forehead lightly against yours.
“You got moves,” he says with a teasing smile. You laugh softly, heart still racing. “Only with the right partner.” He holds your gaze, the world shrinking down to just the two of you.
“Stay with me tonight?” he asks quietly.
And in that moment, you want to say yes. You want to dive into this wild, reckless pull he’s got on you. But the voice inside your head won’t let you. If you go with him, if you have sex with him, it whispers, he’ll leave. Mission accomplished. Just like that, gone. And then what? You swallow hard, feeling the weight of that truth settle like a stone in your chest.
He was supposed to be just a fuckboy. Someone to toy with, to keep at arm’s length. To make him think he can get what he wants, and then shove him away. Nothing more. But every time he shows you a new side, softer, realer, it pulls you closer than you planned.
Still, you shake your head softly, trying to steady yourself. You’re scared. Scared that if you let him in, if you cross that line, he’ll disappear like smoke through your fingers, leaving you alone in the dark.
“I can’t,” you whisper, voice barely audible between the fading beats. “Not tonight.”
Sunghoon’s eyes search yours, and for a moment, you swear you see something like understanding there. Maybe even patience. You step back, wrapping your arms around yourself, trying to convince your heart to listen to your head. Because some things, no matter how tempting, aren’t safe to chase, not yet.
Sunghoon looks at you, eyes steady and patient. “I get it,” he says softly, voice rough but sincere. “No pressure.”
He holds out his hand. “Want to get out of here? Go for a walk. Clear the noise?”
You hesitate only a second before slipping your hand into his. His fingers are warm, grounding. Outside, the street feels quieter, cooler. You walk side by side, the air crisp and different from the stale heat inside. The pavement is cracked, the streetlights flickering overhead. Sunghoon glances at you. “Sometimes I think this whole thing, the music, the battles, the crowds… It’s exactly where I’m supposed to be. But then other times... it feels like a cage I can’t break out of.”
You glance over, surprised at his honesty. “I get that. Sometimes the things we want the most feel like they trap us.” He nods slowly at that. “Walking in the streets at night is the only time I really feel free. The quiet gives me space to breathe. To just be.”
You glance at him, and for a moment, just a heartbeat, you let yourself look. Really look.
Sunghoon’s profile is lit by the amber glow of a streetlamp overhead, soft golden light brushing against the sharp line of his jaw, the slope of his nose, the little crease between his brows he gets when he’s deep in thought. His hoodie’s pulled half-up, messy strands of hair brushing his forehead, damp from the heat of the battle. His lips are parted slightly, like he’s still catching his breath from dancing.
And for a second, framed by flickering neon and the gentle hush of the street, he looks unreal. Like something pulled from a dream. Or a memory you haven’t made yet.
There’s a pause, the city’s hum filling the silence. You take a breath, feeling the words bubbling up. “I don’t usually talk about this, but… I’ve had some bad experiences with guys.”
Sunghoon looks at you, curious but patient.
“Not like… abusive or anything,” you say quickly, “just a few bad one-night stands. Thought it’d be simple. No strings. But it turned messy. Most lied to me afterward. Made me feel cheap. Used. So I don’t do that anymore.” Sunghoon listens quietly, not rushing you. “After that, I promised myself I wouldn’t let anyone get close, not like that, not easily. It’s safer.”
Sunghoon’s expression softens. “I do that,” he continues quietly. “I'm that guy. The one who says all the right things, gets close just enough to get what he wants, and then ghosts before morning. Sometimes I didn’t even wait for the sun to come up. I hate myself for it.”
He exhales through his nose, shaking his head at himself. “At first, it felt easy. Like I had control. Keep it light, no strings, no expectations. I told myself I was doing them a favor. Being clear, keeping it casual. But I wasn’t. Not really. Most of the time, I was just scared.”
You don’t speak, but your eyes are on him now, your feet matching his step.
“I didn’t want to connect,” he admits. “Didn’t want anyone to see the parts of me I didn’t like. So I made sure it was always temporary. Quick. Clean. Forgettable.”
He finally looks at you, and his gaze is raw in a way you’ve never seen before. “But the thing is… after a while, it stops feeling good. All that surface-level shit. The adrenaline wears off, and you start to realize you’re just… empty. Like you gave away pieces of yourself for nothing. Took pieces from others. And it hits you.”
He stops walking. You do too.
“I don’t want that anymore.”
The silence stretches between you. It’s not awkward, it’s heavy. Real.
“I don’t want to be that guy to you,” he says, softer now. “Even if that’s all I’ve ever been to other people. I don’t want you to feel cheap, or used, or scared to trust. I just… I like you. Not just how you look. I like how you laugh, or how you see things through your camera lens. I like who you are when you’re not trying to hide.”
Your throat tightens, and he must see it, because he steps just a little closer, enough to make you feel his warmth again.
“I don’t want to push you,” he adds. “If you say no, I’ll respect it. Every time. But I hope someday you’ll trust me enough to say yes. Not to sex. To something real. To us.”
You blink hard, suddenly aware of the way your heart is pounding.
“Damn,” you whisper, trying to keep your voice from breaking. “You’re really not helping my ‘fuckboy’ theory here.”
That earns a small laugh from him, quiet and a little rueful. “I’m trying to retire from the title.” You smile at that, even as your chest aches. “I don’t know if I’m ready,” you say honestly.
“I’m not asking you to be,” he replies, eyes never leaving yours. “I’m just asking you to stay. Walk with me. Let me earn it.”
And somehow, in that quiet pocket of night, beneath flickering city lights, with concrete beneath your feet and his hand brushing yours, it feels like maybe, just maybe… you could.
Your room is quiet, save for the soft hum of your laptop and the occasional creak of the old radiator. The city outside murmurs in distant sounds. Cars, the bark of a dog, laughter spilling from a street below, but up here, everything feels far away. Like the world paused somewhere between memory and longing.
You sit cross-legged on your bed, hoodie wrapped around your frame, the faint scent of smoke and sweat still clinging to your clothes from earlier. Your camera sits beside you, the memory card already slotted into your laptop. Folders open. Images load.
And there he is.
Sunghoon.
Captured frame by frame. Candid moments frozen in digital time. You scroll slowly, each photo tugging at something you can’t quite name. In one, he’s mid-spin, hair wild, body blurred in motion, untamed, electric. In another, he’s upside down in a freeze, perfectly still, perfectly impossible.
Then a close-up, taken when he wasn’t looking. His eyes half-lidded from exertion, lips parted, the edge of a smile caught like a secret only you were meant to see.
You stare at that one longer than you mean to.
He’s beautiful. Not in the polished, curated way people try to be. But in the way light hits him. Raw, unfiltered, honest. Like the city sculpted him from noise and rhythm and let him loose just to see what would happen.
Your fingers hesitate over the trackpad. He was supposed to be a game. A joke. A distraction from your own chaos. You were going to toy with him. Let him think he had a chance, and then walk away first. Clean. Simple. Safe.
But then he laughed with you. Pulled you into a dance you didn’t think you’d ever say yes to. Gave away his prize money without blinking. Told you the truth like it cost him something. And now here you are, knees curled to your chest, staring at pictures of a boy who was never supposed to matter.
You press a knuckle to your lips, trying to quiet the noise in your head. You can still hear his voice "I don’t want to be that guy to you." You remember the way he said it. Careful. Sincere.
A little afraid.
What if he meant it? What if you let yourself believe that someone like him, who's made his share of mistakes, who’s been guarded and reckless and selfish, could actually want to be better... with you?
Your heart flips, traitorously.
But the fear rises again just as fast. You’ve let someone in before. Let them close, let them kiss you like they meant it, only to realize you were just a story they didn’t bother finishing. You’ve woken up in someone else’s sheets and felt like you left pieces of yourself behind that you couldn’t get back.
And Sunghoon… he’s dangerous in a different way. Not because he lies. But because he tells the truth too well. And truths can hurt more than lies when they fall apart.
Still…your eyes drift back to the photo, him grinning mid-freeze, looking like he belongs to the night and the light and nothing in between.
You save it in a new folder.
You name it Maybe.
On the other side of the town, Sunghoon can’t sleep.
He’s lying on his back in the dark, one arm slung over his eyes, hoodie still on, the city still humming somewhere outside his cracked window. His body’s tired, aching in the best ways from the battle, the dance, the high of it all, but his mind’s wired. Flickering like a dying streetlight. Loud with thoughts he doesn’t know how to silence.
You.
You, in the crowd with that camera, eyes sharp and curious, catching him like he was something worth framing. You, laughing against his chest, the sound so light it knocked the wind out of him. You, stepping back when he asked you to stay. Soft “I can’t” slicing through his chest sharper than he expected.
He gets it. God, he does. And that’s what hurts more.
Sunghoon shifts, pushing up to sit on the edge of the bed, fingers combing through his damp hair. The room smells like detergent and old incense. He’s surrounded by shadows, and still, your voice echoes in his head like you’re right beside him.
"Most lied to me afterward. Made me feel cheap. Used."
He swears under his breath. The guilt, sudden and sharp, creeps in like a draft under the door. He’s done it too. Been that guy. The kind who made girls feel wanted just long enough to get what he wanted. Told himself it was mutual. That it was fun. That no one got hurt if no one caught feelings.
Lies.
He thinks about one girl who used to play with the strings of his hoodie when they kissed. Another who left a poem in his notes app. Another whose number he still has, unread texts gathering dust. He thinks about how he never stayed. How he never meant to.
Because staying meant vulnerability. And vulnerability meant risk. Real connection always did. But with you… You scare him in a way he didn’t think possible. The way you see him, like you’re not impressed by the moves or the cocky smiles, like you’re waiting for him to drop the act, makes him feel both exposed and alive. Like he’s not performing anymore. Like maybe, just maybe, he could be himself.
He leans his elbows on his knees, staring at the floor.
“I don’t want to be that guy to you,” he whispered earlier. He meant every word.
You don’t know how much it took to say that. How hard it is to unlearn being guarded. But he’s trying. He wants to try for you. He remembers the way you looked at him when you declined his offer. Not cold. Not distant. Just… scared. Like the walls you’ve built are the only thing keeping you upright. And he doesn’t want to knock them down. He wants to be patient enough to wait on the other side.
He gets up, walking to the window, hands shoved into his pockets. Down on the street, two bikes coast past under the dim glow of a streetlamp. Quiet. Brief. Free.
Sunghoon presses his forehead against the glass and exhales.
He doesn’t know what this is yet, not really. But he knows he wants it. Wants you. Not for one night. Not for the thrill. But for the way you looked at him after the battle. Like he was worth something beyond his pretty face.
He hopes you come to the block party tomorrow. He hopes you keep taking pictures. He hopes you don’t give up on him before he gets the chance to prove he’s not who he used to be. And for the first time in a long time, he’s not thinking about who else he could be with, or what girl’s DMs he hasn’t opened yet. He’s just thinking about you.
Just you.
The smell of grilled skewers and burnt rubber hits first.
The block’s been taken over, tape strung between poles, speakers stacked like towers, lights strung from rooftops to trees like fireflies caught in wire. It’s dusk, the sky bruised purple and orange, and the music’s already thumping loud enough to make your ribcage vibrate.
You clutch your camera tighter as you step into the heart of it.
Crews are scattered in clusters, bouncing in place to the beat, trading handshakes and half-practiced footwork. Kids on scooters weave between legs. Someone’s spray painting the side of a truck. Girls are dancing on the curb, laughing with slushies in their hands, and the whole thing feels alive, wild and beautiful, and chaotic in the best way.
You scan the crowd for him.
You don't want to admit it, but your stomach's been tight ever since last night. Since the walk. Since the way he looked at you like he didn’t want to be the version of himself you'd imagined. Since you saw a version of himself he probably never showed anyone.
And now you’re here.
Because some part of you wants to believe that maybe people can change. That maybe this thing, whatever it is, deserves more than just a line drawn in fear.
You catch him before he sees you, again.
Sunghoon’s standing near the speakers, hoodie half-zipped, a New York Yankees cap on his head. He’s laughing at something a crew member said, head tilted back, gold chain catching the light. And for a moment, you don’t move. You just watch. Because framed by the pulsing streetlights and dusk falling in slow strokes across his cheekbones, he looks... devastating. Effortless. But not in a calculated way. Like the kind of person the city makes poems about. The kind of boy that breaks hearts and doesn’t mean to. And yours aches. Just a little.
Then his eyes find you.
Everything slows. His smile shifts, less wild now, more real. Something flickers in his expression, like he wasn’t sure if you’d come, like your presence just changed the whole weight of the evening.
He jogs toward you, weaving through the crowd. “You made it.”
You nod, adjusting the strap on your shoulder. “Wouldn’t miss it.”
“Good,” he says, voice low, more relieved than cocky. “We’re warming up. Wanna shoot from the roof?”
Your brows lift. “There’s roof access?”
He grins, already leading the way. “There’s always roof access if you’re dumb enough.”
You follow him up a metal staircase that groans under your weight, past open windows spilling music and sweat and city air. When you hit the roof, the entire block unfurls below you, people spinning in the street, painted vans, cables humming with strung-up lights.
You lift your camera, framing it all.
“You okay?” he asks softly.
You glance at him. “Yeah. Just... nervous.”
Sunghoon leans against the railing, watching the dancers. “Me too.”
You tilt your head. “You? Nervous?”
His lips twist into a wry smile. “About you.”
Silence sits between you. Thick, warm, honest.
“You scare me a little,” he admits. “You make me want to stop pretending.”
You lower the camera slowly.
“I think I’ve done a lot of pretending,” he continues, eyes on the street. “Pretending I don’t care. That no one else does either. That all this…” he gestures at the party, the dancing, the chaos “...is just noise.”
“But it’s not,” you say quietly. “No,” he breathes. “It’s not. And you, you're not. You see me. And I don’t think I’m used to that.”
You swallow the lump in your throat. The camera is still in your hand, but your fingers aren’t steady anymore.
“I don’t want to mess this up,” he says. “I’ve hurt girls before. Not because I hated them. Just because I didn’t know how to stay. Didn’t want anyone to see the shit I was trying to outrun. But I don’t want to lie to you. Not even by omission. I’ve been a fuckboy. I’ve ghosted. Lied. Said things I didn’t mean just to feel wanted for a minute.”
You blink, surprised at the rawness.
“I didn’t expect this,” he says. “Didn’t expect you. And I don’t deserve your trust yet, I know that. But if you let me, I’ll earn it. Bit by bit. Even if you never say yes. I still want to be someone worth staying for.”
You stare at him a long moment, wind tugging at your sleeves, music thudding up from below like a second heartbeat. And finally, you lift the camera.
Click.
Sunghoon blinks. “Did you just take a picture?”
You smile softly. “Yeah. Had to catch the moment.”
He exhales a laugh, but it’s soft around the edges. Hopeful. “Do I look tortured and tragic?”
You glance at the preview. “You look real.”
As those words leave your mouth, the music pulses louder and the block party really kicks off. People spill into the streets and alleys, laughter and shouting weaving through the warm night air. Lights strung between buildings cast a carnival glow, and the scent of grilled food and spilled drinks fills everything.
You find yourself pulled into the flow, the beat catching under your skin. Before you know it, Sunghoon’s hand is at your waist, guiding you. The song is slow, romantic. He pulls you close, fingers curling gently around your back, and you rest your hands lightly on his shoulders. Your bodies move in quiet rhythm, slow and effortless, as if the whole city paused just for this.
You smile, heart quickening. “I like this.”
He tilts your chin up, eyes searching yours in the soft light. “I like you.”
You lean in, the space between you shrinking until it vanishes. His lips meet yours softly at first, almost hesitant—like he’s testing the waters. Then the kiss deepens, becoming more urgent, more certain, as if he’s been holding back all this time, waiting for this moment. Your breath mingles, hearts racing in sync beneath the glow of the city lights. His hand cradles your cheek gently while the other rests at your waist, pulling you closer. Time seems to stretch and blur, the world around you fading until there’s only the warmth of his mouth and the steady thrum of your heart beating.
When you pull back just slightly, your foreheads rest together, breaths mingling.
“Stay with me,” he whispers.
You nod, feeling like maybe this time, you just might.
The two of you stand hand in hand on the rooftop, the warm glow of the block party spilling up in waves beneath you. From this height, the crowd looks like a moving sea of colors and lights, people laughing, dancing, shouting, living. The scent of grilled food drifts up, mixing with the faint coolness of the evening air. Sunghoon leans close, his voice low. “Crazy how something so chaotic can feel… kind of perfect, huh?”
You nod, eyes tracing the tangled web of string lights and pulsing speakers. “Yeah. Like the whole city is alive tonight.”
He shifts closer, hand brushing against yours. “Wish moments like this could last.”
“Maybe they can,” you say quietly.
He smiles, and the city feels a little less loud, a little more yours. The music shifts, the beat quickening. “Come on,” he says suddenly, tugging you down the stairs. The party swirls back to life around you. Laughter, shouting, the pulsing bass, people everywhere, lost in the moment.
He weaves through the crowd with ease, and soon you’re introduced to his crew. Ni-ki, with his sharp smile and easy confidence, Heeseung, calm and steady, and Jake, who’s already handing you a plate piled with grilled skewers.
“Food always tastes better at a party,” Jake says, winking.
You nibble your skewer as Sunghoon leans close. “Ready for round two?” You nod, eyes catching his under the string lights. “Lead the way.”
He takes your hand, pulling you close. This time the dance is lighter, freer. Laughs escaping you both as you spin, move, and find the rhythm together. The cool breeze tousles your hair, and when your eyes meet, the world feels still.
Then, as if drawn by some unspoken magnetism, your lips meet again. Longer, deeper, filled with all the moments you’ve been holding back. The city fades, the music dims, and all that exists is the two of you, tangled in the night.
The party eventually winds down. The music fades into a distant hum, and the crowd thins, laughter turning into quiet goodbyes. You and Sunghoon find yourselves back on the rooftop, wrapped in the calm after the storm.
He pulls you close, the city still glowing faintly beneath you. His voice is soft, almost vulnerable. “I don’t want this night to end,” he admits, fingers tracing your jaw gently. “I just want to spend every second with you, all of it.”
You meet his gaze, heart fluttering in the quiet morning light.
“Then don’t let it end,” you whisper.
Without another word, he leads you to his car and drives both of you to his apartment. There's no one. Just the two of you. The streets are mostly empty now, painted in the amber hush of early morning, and neither of you says much. There’s something reverent about the silence. Something sacred.
His apartment is dimly lit, clean but lived-in. A hoodie draped over a chair, speakers stacked near the wall, a cracked mug on the counter. It smells like clean linen and something faintly earthy, like cedarwood and mint. Like him.
You stand by the window, looking out at the city, still catching your breath from everything the night had been. Sunghoon walks over slowly, stopping just behind you.
“Still okay?” he asks gently, not touching you yet.
You nod, but your arms stay folded across your chest. “I’m just…” you trail off. “Nervous.”
He’s quiet for a beat. Then, “Because of before?”
You glance up at him, and the look in your eyes is answer enough. He exhales slowly. “You don’t have to do anything, Y/N. You know that, right?”
“I know,” you say, voice barely above a whisper. “But… I want to. I just don’t want to feel like I did back then. Like I’m being discarded.”
Sunghoon gently reaches for your hand, giving you every opportunity to pull away. When you don’t, he interlaces his fingers with yours. “I’m not leaving,” he says. “And you’re not a maybe to me. Not a moment. Not something I’ll ever pretend didn’t happen.”
You meet his eyes. He’s watching you like you’re the only thing that matters. Like the party, the city, the rooftop kiss, none of it compared to now.
“I just want you,” he continues, his voice low, honest. “But only if you want me too. No pretending. No pressure.” Your chest tightens at his words, soft and full and aching all at once.
“I want you, too,” you say.
He leans in slowly, giving you time. When his lips touch yours, it’s careful. Tender. Like a promise sealed in warmth. The rest happens in slow motion. His touch is patient, never rushing, never demanding. It's exploring, learning, and worshipping in the smallest ways. Fingertips over ribs. Lips on your shoulder. Whispered words that you feel more than hear.
“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs
When he’s finally above you, the space between your bodies gone, he pauses.
“Still okay?”
You nod, breath trembling. “Yes.”
And this time, when he moves, it feels different than anything you’ve known before. Less like being claimed, more like being seen. More like a soft surrender than a loss. Like trust, like healing, like the beginning of something that scares you in the best possible way.
He kisses you again, his lips moving slowly, deliberately, tracing the path from your mouth to your collarbone. The air between you hums with quiet urgency, but he doesn’t rush. His hands, warm and steady, slide along your waist, fingers spreading to map the shape of your hips like he’s memorizing them by touch alone. He takes off your shirt and your bra as his mouth dips lower, breath grazing your chest as he lingers there, almost breathless.
When his lips close around your nipple, it’s not just desire, it’s devotion. He teases gently, tongue flicking in slow, measured circles, then draws it into his mouth with a low hum that vibrates straight through you. A small sound slips from your throat, and your back arches instinctively, pulling him closer. Your hands run along the muscles of his back, slipping under his shirt, and when he takes it off, your palms find his skin. Warm. Solid. Real.
You don't realize you're trembling until he kisses you again, slower this time, his hands stroking your sides in calming rhythms. It feels like he’s grounding you, anchoring you to something steady. Something safe. “Is this okay?” he murmurs, voice low and almost hoarse.
You nod. “Yes. I just…” The words tangle in your throat, soft with uncertainty. “I don’t want this to be a one-night thing.”
Sunghoon stills for a moment, then leans in and brushes his nose against yours. “It’s not,” he says. “It won’t be. I want all of you. Over and over again. Every day, in every light.”
And there’s something in the way he says it, not just lust but need, aching and honest, that makes your heart ache in return. He kisses you again, deeper now, more sure, and when his body presses against yours fully, you feel it. Not just the strength, the warmth, the barely restrained hunger, but more than that. The care. The weight of someone who’s choosing you with intention. With hope and love.
Clothes fall away slowly, piece by piece – his jeans pushed down, your panties hooked off with careful fingers. Every touch is unhurried, a question offered and answered with soft nods, with the way your bodies lean into each other like magnets finding their pull.
When he lowers himself between your legs, it’s with the kind of attention that steals the air from your lungs. His touch is patient and precise. Not performing, not taking, but offering. Learning what makes your breath catch, what makes your thighs tense, what makes your hands grip the sheets. He listens. Responds. Adjusts. And when your fingers clutch his and your body arches, he doesn’t stop, he stays with you, holding you through the waves until you’re gasping his name.
He comes back to you slowly, kissing your cheek, your shoulder, the hollow at your throat. “You’re beautiful,” he whispers again. “Every part of you. Every sound you make.”
You pull him into another kiss, messier this time, needier, your body flushed and open beneath him. And when he finally enters into you, slowly and carefully, there’s a stillness that settles between you. A hush. Like the world has narrowed down to just this. Your breath in his mouth, the trembling of his hands as they cradle your face, the way your hips tilt to meet his like you’ve always known how.
He moves gently, each thrust a question, each gasp of yours an answer. There’s no distance now. No room for fear, no room for the walls you once guarded so carefully. Only skin. Heat. The shared rhythm of two people choosing to be seen.
You moan his name like it’s sacred. He moans yours like it’s a prayer.
Time bends. The world blurs. The build-up is slow and inevitable, like tides pulling you under. And when the high finally hits, it’s not sharp. It’s soft. Blooming. It ripples through your body like light, like warmth, and Sunghoon doesn’t let go. He stays with you, wrapped around you, whispering sweet nothings against your skin, even as his own body trembles above you.
After, neither of you speaks for a long moment. You lie tangled together, your heartbeat still racing, your skin dewy with sweat. His chest rises and falls against yours, his fingers tracing slow circles along your spine.
“You feeling okay?” he murmurs against your temple.
You nod, eyes fluttering shut. “Yeah. Better than okay.”
He pulls you closer until there’s no space left between your bodies, his warmth seeping into you like a slow-burning fire. His lips find yours again, soft yet urgent. Every kiss is a promise, every touch a confession. You let yourself fall into the moment completely, unguarded and safe. The outside world disappears, leaving only the steady rhythm of two hearts learning to beat as one.
“I want to be with you,” he whispers, voice rough with feeling. You smile, a warmth blooming inside that no words can quite capture. “I want that, too.”
And in that quiet, fragile space, the future feels wide open, waiting just for the two of you.
Yay, another fanfic! This one feels deeply personal to me, as I relate to Y/N a little too much here. I’m, surprisingly(?), a big hater of hookup culture. Oh, and I also dated a breakdancer, lol. Hope you liked it! If you want to get a feel for the dance battles, I highly recommend looking them up on YouTube. My favourite one is this one, because I've met Kriss myself many times, and even used to take his classes.
summary: life has been too much. too big, too loud, too present. you ask yunho to take you further than you've ever gone, and he does, with every rope and every inch of your surrender.
i want my eroticism mixed with love, and deep love one does not experience often. - anaïs nin
🔗 read it on ao3
📚 fic masterlist
🪢 shibari glossary & resource library
🌹 anchor point mood board
note: this work is a one-shot of romance and erotica, and is set between yunho and reader, a couple both in a romantic relationship and an established d/s dynamic. anchor point has not been published yet, but is a series that will tell their story of trauma, recovery, and rope play. this story is set several years in the future, when they have come to their version of a happily ever after.
warnings: dom!yunho, rigger!yunho, sub!reader, rope bottom!reader, shibari, kinbaku, bdsm dynamics, d/s dynamics, rope play, partial suspension, full suspension, predicament ties, pain play, hard dom yunho, subspace, pushing limits, on page consent checks, use of the color system, on-page discussion of the scene both pre-play and post-play, edging, orgasm denial, overstimulation, bites, marks, heavy use of "sir" and very formal d/s dynamics, kneeling, total submission, body manipulation, rough handling, fingering, oral (f receiving), internal vibrator, nipple play, impact play (light), hair pulling, slapping, breath play, penetrative sex, breeding kink, pregnancy kink, implied belly kink/belly focus, daddy kink, creampie, use of the word 'little', praise, degradation, lots of aftercare, additionally there are references to past physical trauma within a bdsm scene including SA but mention is brief, this will be handled in the full anchor point series later on. mention of injuries sustained from a past rigger / traumatic rope scene.
pairings: rigger!yunho x fem!reader
genre: smut, hurt/comfort, bdsm erotica
word count: 21k
please be mindful of the tags on this one, and reference both the resource library and the disclaimer under the cut if you're not sure if you want to proceed.
disclaimer:
this work is a big leap of faith for me, and a foray into a kink and a bdsm practice that is extremely detailed and nuanced. i do not practice shibari personally (though i am looking into it and would like to) but i have done extensive research in an effort to write this honestly and accurately.
if you practice shibari or know more about this than i do, and you catch anything written here that is inaccurate, or potentially if any of the ties/suspensions or combinations i've written are unsafe, please let me know. i do not believe in producing work that spreads misinformation about bdsm, and am more than willing to listen, learn, and adjust an existing work to ensure that future readers have a safe and genuine experience reading.
further, if this is your first introduction to shibari, bdsm, or pain play i encourage you to go in with an open mind. if any of these dynamics, particularly the dynamics of shibari or dominance and submission interest you personally, please make sure that you do your own research and find your own limits before engaging in any of the acts i've described here. reader and yunho have been in a relationship for six years in this work, they are fully established. i would never recommend jumping into anything this intense with a new partner or without your own full understanding of these dynamics.
that said.... this work is super personal to me. i truly hope you enjoy it. please check out the resource library for a glossary of terms, reference images to the ties and suspensions listed in this work, and free resources to watch shibari scenes to get a fuller understanding of these dynamics. thank you for reading. ♡
Your rope room is a sacred space.
His and yours alone.
Most of the time, the door stays closed, shut and sealed off from your regular lives. It’s a world away from your nine to five, it doesn’t factor into your morning coffee or your game nights with friends.
It’s private, it’s ritual.
To you and to Yunho, it’s holy.
It’s been weeks since you’ve used the room properly, months if you’re being honest. Life has been leaning on you heavily lately, in that sweet spot between work, more work, and every little thing going wrong that could go wrong. You’re working late nights, getting up earlier and earlier, kissing him with a perfunctory peck on your way out the door. You haven’t connected in too long. Not with dates, or sex, or intimacy, and certainly not with rope.
The door has been closed. Occasionally he pulls it open to grab supplies for a workshop he’s teaching or a rope jam you’re attending, but lately it’s just been shut and you haven’t had the space or the energy to try and push it open.
Tonight is different though.
The large sliding door that closes off this space is wide open when you get home from work, and you can feel the tension in your shoulders starting to unspool just at the sight of it. You had planned this with Yunho in excruciating detail, just like you always do, but it’s still a surprising comfort to see it as you walk through the front door of your shared loft.
You suppress the urge to call out and let him know you’re home from work, you know that if he’s already in the room that means he’s already preparing, getting his mind and his body ready for tonight, and so you quietly slip through the apartment to do the same.
You discard your stiff outside clothes, freshen up for the night ahead, and slip on your softest silk robe. On quiet feet, you pad over to the open door and look inside, leaning against the outer wall as you watch him.
The lights are low, warmth spilling from the lamps, but your chest warms at the sight of the candles. White, long stemmed, and placed throughout the room, strategically far from your play mat, but adding a flickering glow to the space. The rig hangs in the center of the room, a thick bamboo bar anchored firmly to the ceiling, glowing almost golden in the low light.
Yunho’s back is to you, but you watch as he shakes out a match, a curl of smoke blooming from the end, the sharp smell of sulfur and flame dissipating along with it into the air. He’s dressed comfortably, in loose, breathable fabric. Soft black pants that shift with him as he moves, and a gently fitted black tank top, no sleeves to catch against the ropes as he works, nothing to interrupt his flow or his attention on you.
With a slow breath, in and out like you’re walking into a yoga class or a meditative retreat, you let the day fade behind you and you step inside.
His head turns at the first sound of you, barefoot on the tatami mat, the soft give of the bound straw under your feet as you make your way towards him. You let the smell of jute and beeswax take you, the way it curls around your senses like a soft hand against your spine, guiding you into the center of the space.
Yunho’s eyes flicker down your body, not in hunger or anticipation, but for health. His practiced eyes study your steps, the set of your shoulders, your posture, your expression, the tension you carry into the room.
It relaxes you instantly.
“Come here, baby,” His voice is warm, tender.
It pulls you, like a cord tied to your breastbone, tethering you to him, and you go.
You step past his rope bag and the tools set up on the table. Clean towels, room temperature water in a glass carafe, a new pair of medical trauma shears.
As you step to him, he reaches for your waist with one hand and brings the other to your face, cupping your cheek so gently it makes your chest ache.
“Hi,” he murmurs.
“Hi,”
A small smile pulls at his lips, “You good to be here tonight?”
You nod, sinking into the touch of his hand unconsciously.
He arches a gentle brow.
“Yes, sir,” You correct yourself.
He studies you a little longer, his thumb brushing a tender line over your cheekbone, and then he dips forwards to press a kiss to your forehead, “Take a breath,” he instructs gently, “let it go.”
You inhale, and with your exhale, you let the weight of your week fall away.
He takes a step back, and this time when he speaks his tone shifts, still gentle, but anchored in something deeper, “Let’s check in.”
As he reaches for the water carafe and pours you a glass, you take your familiar place on the mat, the rig behind you as you kneel into the perfect picture of submission, feet tucked under your backside, hands resting open and up on your thighs.
Yunho kneels before you, a mirror of your body, and passes you the water glass as he begins his ritual.
You take a sip, waiting patiently.
“Any pain today?” He starts off.
“My right hamstring is a bit tight,” You answer honestly, “everything else is okay.”
His hand smooths over your thigh, his fingers skating along the seam of your folded legs, “We’ll keep this leg grounded,” he says, “you tell me if things feel tighter or sharper.”
“Yes, sir,”
His eyes flick to yours, pleased, “Your shoulder?”
You roll it to show him, “Feels good.”
His hand skims up over your arm and rests over the cap of your left shoulder, just for a moment. The gentle pressure of his hand communicates a silent vow, a promise to protect you here, to guard you from pain, from memory.
It’s been a long time since it’s pained you in a scene, and a long time since you’ve found yourself tumbling back into difficult memories of your last rigger and that final, terrible scene with him. ‘Scene’ isn’t even the right word for what it was, but you don’t like to think of it often. It’s just the night that left your arm damaged and numb and clinging to physical therapy while you latched onto your best friend, to Yunho’s sure safety in the aftermath of it all.
No matter how many years it’s been, he still checks your shoulder every time. You think he always will.
“Any changes to your hard limits, today?” He asks as his hands settle on his own thighs, palms down and grounded.
You sip your water, “No,” you say as you shake your head, “but still no gags.”
He’s ready for that, he always is. It’s your firmest limit, the one that you have to echo at the beginning of every scene just to let your body relax the right way. Yunho understands with perfect clarity, as the one who pulled you down from the amateur rig, cut you out of dangerously wrapped rope, and stitched your body and your mind back together over years. He’d never even suggest a gag, and he’s the only man you trust now to hold you like this, but you still have to say it.
He smiles faintly at your own ritual, “Wouldn’t dream of it,”
A thought occurs and you blink, “No inversion today,”
His gaze sharpens, “Of course,” he nods, “tell me,”
“I had a headache a few days ago,” You explain, “it took a little while to shake it, full inversion’s probably not the best right now,”
“Understood,” He says, “if you start to feel it, or if you get dizzy, you call yellow.”
“Yes, sir.”
He nods, “And soft limits? Anything new?”
Warmth curls in you and you nod, “If you want breath, I’d like to try.”
He takes a beat, taking in your words, “Tell me how,”
You steady yourself, “Your hand only,” you tell him softly, “and I want to be able to pull away.”
“Always,” He replies, “anything else?”
“No, sir,”
His eyes soften up considerably for just a moment, “Drink your water, sweetheart.”
You bring the glass back to your lips and take small sips.
“Did you eat today?”
“A light lunch, around three?”
“Good girl,” He reaches for the glass as you finish it, and a flutter bursts in your chest at his warm words.
You rest your hands on your thighs once again, palms up, fingers soft and curled.
“Tell me your colors,” He asks.
“Green, I’m good, continue.”
He nods.
“Yellow, slow down, verbal check-ins, potentially end suspension.”
He nods again.
“Red,” You say, the word still an echoing shape in your mouth even years after that night, “stop, end the scene, cut me out.”
“Good.” He nods.
You hardly need to review limits with him, not after years and years of developing this language and this intimacy with one another, but after the things you experienced before him, after having ‘red’ be ignored by your previous rigger, Yunho maintains verbal clarity with you no matter what.
You love him for it.
“You know your body,” He says gently, “and I’ll be watching like I always do,”
You nod.
“But sharp pain, total numbness, anything you haven’t felt with me before,” He says, “I do not want you pushing yourself through that tonight.”
Your eyes flick over him. You want to clarify, to ask, especially since you had discussed new ties for tonight, specific predicament positions you wanted. Some amount of challenge and newness with that is to be expected, and his words throw you off, but he continues before you even open your mouth.
“It’s been a difficult week, a difficult month,” He corrects, “I’ll hold you through that, and everything we discussed last weekend is still on the table, but we haven’t tied like this in a while. We’re not here to please me, we’re here to process.”
Soft realization blooms in you, “Understood.”
Yunho lets that sink in, and then leans forwards, kissing you gently on the lips once.
When he leans back, you watch as something settles in his chest, his posture, the way his expression smooths into something almost passive.
“Are you asking me to take control?”
“Yes, sir,”
“Willingly?” He asks, as he always does, “Without pressure?”
“Yes, sir.”
The faintest smile tugs at the corner of his lips, “Then I accept.”
Liquid heat spreads inside you, from your chest to your belly, creeping into every limb.
Yunho shifts, rising slowly back to his feet, tall and sure above you, and reaches for the first coil of jute. He moves around you slowly, letting himself sink into his dominance, the rope a familiar weight in his hand as he assesses you.
Your body thrums in anticipation, in aching interest, a nervous flutter in your belly like the rapid beat of hummingbird wings.
He settles by your side into a crouch, bare feet on the mat, his knees bracketing your chest and back as he encroaches into your space.
You swallow tightly, but keep your eyes trained on the wall ahead.
“This rope belongs to me,” He murmurs softly, a coarse curl of it brushing over your tricep.
You stay quiet.
“And this body,” His hot hand slides across your chest, fingertips grazing against your collarbone, “this body is mine alone for as long as you give it.”
“Yes,” You breathe, “yes, sir.”
His voice hardens, not unkind, just clear and sure, “Then give it to me.”
Your body melts, head turning to him and dipping low in supplication until your forehead gently connects with his inner thigh.
His hand rests over the back of your neck, warm and tight on your skin.
He hasn’t even wrapped you yet, and you already feel like you're flying.
Yunho shifts back, clearing space, and slowly pushes your head to the mat until you’re settled into a deep bow.
You don’t shift or sway, you don’t try to get more comfortable, not now. Now, you wait, just as you always do.
You wait and you breathe.
The warm scent of the rice straw, the flicker of candle light, the warmth of his gaze as he slides behind you.
Gently, Yunho finds the tie to your robe and tugs it free, guiding the fabric down and off your body until it’s pooled around you like a frame. His fingertips glide along the visible line of your spine, emphasized in this folded position, his hands mapping you with every brush.
You can feel yourself trembling, not in fear, but in anticipation, and he strokes your back once more.
Quietly, he finally speaks, “Sit up, sweet girl.”
You breath hitches, something tight and warm in you at his words, and slowly you raise back up to your kneeling position, back straight and head high. Your skin prickles at the cool air of the room and the weight of his eyes on you.
He sighs once, pleasantly, but when he moves again it’s with complete and total control.
Yunho slides close, the heat of his body behind you its own kind of weight.
You let your eyes unfocus, let the knot in your belly start to unfurl.
“Breathe,” He reminds you gently, and then his hands skim over your arms with intimate care.
“Yes, sir,”
There’s no music, no sound but your mingled breath and skin brushing along skin, but the way he moves with you and the way he handles rope always feels like a dance. A new rhythm every time, new steps, but a song between your bodies that only you two can play.
Yunho’s large hands slide over your forearms until he cups yours in each of his, fingers curling over to press into your palms as he guides your arms up and into position.
You let him take you, lead you, until your arms are lifted and folded– elbows tucked against your ribs, palms facing front, thumbs brushing your shoulders.
Your shoulderblades naturally tuck together, chest lifting and opening.
His hands drift away, but you stay in position, and then finally, you feel it.
He draws the rope over your right shoulder, not to tie, just draping it there. Quietly, he gives you the weight of it, the scratch of the fiber, the intention.
You exhale on instinct.
He says nothing, but you feel his fingertips ghost along the small of your back, and the sharp sensation of rope over skin as he pulls the draped cord quickly back into his own hands, his work hidden behind you.
You swallow tightly, audibly.
He’s skilled at this, the way he builds anticipation with every breath. The gentlest touches of rope to skin, the soft pads of his fingers, changing pace from fast to slow and back to fast, all of it marrying together to make a rhythm you have to submit to. Something that makes you let go and accept the not knowing.
With your arms in this position though, the first coil comes exactly where you know it will, a looped single column tie around your upper left arm just above the bicep. He cinches the knot snugly, checking the seam of the rope against your skin with two fingers, and adjusting the knot into place. His hand settles on your shoulder again, his thumb rolling slowly over the joint.
“Color?” He asks gently.
“Green.”
The rope shifts as he continues to wrap, looping under your right arm and curling back over, and with the guided pressure of the rope as it slides over your skin your arms tuck back, shoulder blades tighter together now.
He checks the cuffs, locking off the first knots with loops of jute, his body warm at your back, silent, and solid.
Your spine is straight, shoulders together, chest open wide to the front of the room. It’s already hard to maintain composure. There’s overwhelming intimacy in this, the way he attends to your body, the way he knows you. It’s not arousal yet, but the anticipation of it leaves your body thrumming.
With a sudden breath against your hair, Yunho leans in against you, and wraps the length of cord over your chest, situated in a familiar arc above your breasts before wrapping back and locking into the cuffs binding your arms into position. He secures knots with sure hands, attaching another length of rope to the center point behind you, and here you feel the scene start to really begin.
The heat of him envelops you as he leans in close, body cocooning yours from behind, his lips against your cheek as he wraps the next cord around your ribs, high, just under your breasts to make a pretty picture of your chest.
His free hand settles high over your abdomen, just under your breastbone, “Breathe for me,”
You inhale, full and deep, holding the air as he feels your body under his wraps, and then exhale.
He locks off the cord that wraps over your ribs behind you, and settles close again, both hands flat on your skin, chest, belly, “Again.”
You do.
He’s watching your ribs, your diaphragm, the way the rope moves with your breath. He looks for how the knots settle, if the cords slip on a hard exhale, if they pull, stretch, or cut into your skin on an inhale.
“Good girl,” He murmurs roughly against your temple, “how are your shoulders?”
He leans away as he asks it, his fingers pressing into your palms and testing your responses carefully, but you reply with ease, “Good, sir.”
“Color?”
“Green.”
He continues the Tengu Harness with sure fingers. A line of cord between your breasts to tighten the top and bottom line of the chest harness, new cuffs wrapped around either wrist, loops from wrist over open palm, a rough line of rope in the soft juncture of your hand between thumb and index finger, all anchored to the knots between your shoulders to hold you open.
Yunho checks your hands again, and then slides his whole body in front of you. His eyes study you, but he looks nothing but pleased at the gentle softness in your expression.
He adds one more coil of rope in a decorative pattern over your upper chest below the hollow of your throat, pretty loops and knots for him to admire as he plays with you, but it adds no extra pressure or tightness to the already snug harness you’re bound in.
He sighs pleasantly as he looks you over, and then he reaches for the next wrapped coil of jute.
You watch him move, but you’re focused entirely on the sensations in your arms, your chest. The tight hug of the ropes around you, the way they press into you pleasantly with every breath, the rough warmth of as it holds you.
“Legs now,” Yunho says, his hands settling on your hips to guide your movements.
You follow the gentle pressure of his hands, sinking out of your kneeling position onto your right hip, letting Yunho guide your legs out from under you’re seated criss-crossed in front of him.
He loops the cord over, under, and around your crossed ankles until they’re loosely bound together, preventing you from straightening or separating your legs.
The position holds you casually open, locked in vulnerability without added tension or pressure on your thighs or knees.
He’s seen you bound and naked a thousand times, but every time you’re in a position like this, spread, exposed, it still stokes something needy and hot inside you like it’s the first time. He hasn’t looked between your thighs once, simply focused on your ankles, but the shape of your body starts to make an offering, and you settle into it.
His fingers skim under your thigh, on the hamstring you mentioned, “Tight like this?”
“Not here,” You assure him.
“Tell me if it cramps,” He gives your thigh a soft squeeze, “don’t wait.”
“I won’t,” You promise.
He checks the tension in your ankle ropes once more, fingertips feeling your pulse to make sure your circulation is where he wants it, and then he ties off and steps back.
The absence of him is sudden, like a rush of cold air, and your eyes snap up to his.
He’s watching you, and for a long, long moment he doesn’t say a word. You feel his gaze travel over your body, not possessive yet, just precise, a rope rigger’s eye measuring balance, pressure, breath. Taking in what he’s done, what he will do.
“You’re beautiful like this,” He murmurs finally, his eyes tracking over the way the ropes frame you, revealing parts of you hidden even to yourself.
His words settle something in your chest.
Yunho hums, a small sound not even really meant for you, and then he kneels in front of you again. His brown eyes are deep, full of reverent tenderness, and his thumb skims up and down the column of your throat as he cups your neck, his touch featherlight and centering.
You close your eyes for a moment, letting the sensation take you.
The pad of his thumb presses against your jaw, “Lift your chin, sweetheart.”
Your eyes flutter open, and you’re quick to obey.
“How’s your breath?” He asks.
“Good,” You reply, taking in a strong inhale and letting it go to show him.
He nods, satisfied.
“Now,” he murmurs, his hands coming to cradle your body as he shifts forwards, “relax for me.”
Your muscles loosen, like you’re trained to the commands of his voice.
Slowly, he applies pressure and dips you backwards, holding your weight in his sure hands as he rocks you back and guides you flat to the floor.
You settle carefully into position, a curve in your low back as your hips stay anchored to the mat, legs still crossed with your knees wide, your tucked shoulderblades connecting softly with the tatami mat, head falling back last like you’re going vertebrae by vertebrae to the floor.
Your body is humming, aching tightness where the ropes cross over your skin, but you don’t feel the first flush of heat until Yunho leans away and his eyes finally flick down once to take in the sight of your spread thighs, your cunt exposed and on display for him.
He makes no move to praise you, to call you beautiful, to reach out and touch what’s open and on offer. He merely looks away and reaches for another line of jute, and it makes the tense spool of need inside you start to wind tighter.
“Color?” He asks as he crouches at your side, his fingers pressing down on your breastbone, searching your flesh under the wrapped ropes for his entry point.
“Green, sir.”
“Upline,” He tells you as he threads another loop of rope under the lines of your chest harness, squarely over the place where your ribs meet your sternum.
You let your head fall back, eyes going soft as you watch the sway of the bamboo bar overhead, trusting the sensation of his hands on you as he manipulates the ropes into something firm and safe for suspension.
You don’t need to look to know the way he ties. He’s talked you through this harness before, twists of rope, a secured epsilon, a doubled bight to provide the loop he needs to hoist you.
His hands are steady, quick and experienced, and when he stands to draw the working line over the bamboo bar, your head softly rolls against the mat to watch him. He passes the end of the line, now looped securely over the bar, through the loop left on your chest harness and then with practiced slowness, he pulls.
Your back bends, chest lifting with the guide of the ropes.
A soft sound echoes from your lips, and you watch him check your expression before pulling more, bringing you higher.
Inch by inch, your upper body lifts away from the mat. Shoulders no longer touching, your head lolling back as you let your head hang.
“Breathe,” He reminds you.
You do, and on your second inhale, he pulls the cord again.
The pressure across your ribs increases, the harness tightening its hold around you as it bears your weight, and you feel your shoulders draw back slightly, your chest more open than ever as your upper body is pulled up and away towards the rig.
This isn’t full flight, not yet, but it’s just as intimate, just as open.
Your back arches.
Your spine curves.
Your hips stay grounded and open wide.
The suspension line shifts as he ties things off, securing the lines into a careful lock off that can be easily released if you need to be dropped quickly.
Yunho stands slowly, and circles you, his bare feet soft on the padded floor.
The pose has you curved open, a back bend of subtle elegance that leaves your pelvis tilted, your breasts high, your sex open and bared to his gaze.
“You’re stunning like this,” He says, his voice deep and warm, “held open just for me.”
You sigh, muscles relaxing further into the cradle of the ropes.
“Keep breathing,” He says, and then you feel the next brush.
A rough drag of rope over your exposed belly, and then a loop, loop, loop above your hips.
A waist tie.
Your breath catches as he locks it off, watching your body carefully as your abdomen expands and contracts under the ties.
You steady your breath, he doesn’t need to tell you again.
The long line of the rope wraps and coils over the bamboo bar, giving him another connection point, another axis of control.
This time, when he threads and lifts, the effect is instant. As he draws tension into the waist tie, the curve of your back deepens, your hips tilting more open. The delicious ache of the chest harness feels tighter as you dip deeper into its precious hold.
Yunho adjusts his position, standing directly in front of your splayed knees, and then suddenly he pulls. His movement isn’t fast, but it is more. A new guided direction, a tug of the waist tie towards himself not towards the ceiling that pulls your body deeper into the stretch until your back bends to its limit and your hips angle farther, your cunt lifted in its display.
You whimper, heat bubbling through your limbs, tingles in your skin and something hungrier building in your belly.
“Too much?” He checks.
“No, sir.” You answer, breathless.
“Color?”
“Green.”
He locks off the line of the waist harness to keep you here, “Then rest,” he says softly.
Around you, the room hums. Your mind goes soft.
There’s still no sound, nothing to focus on, but lifted and wrapped like this you’ve never been more aware. The soft creak of the rope and the rig, the sharp sizzle of a candle extinguishing as wax over takes a wick, steady breath, slow breath.
This tie doesn’t hurt, but it does demand something of you.
Predicaments often offer just that, a decision point between one axis of pain and another. Let one body part relax, and another enters strain, a beautiful balance of tension and control all wrapped in ropes. But this is about time, about center and space, to really accept this, you have to breathe into it and stay in awareness. The longer you spend open, the more it starts to burn, pulse, ache, and the more the outside world dissipates.
Bound like this, your body just exists and offers. The ties may keep you locked in place, rooted where he placed you, but it’s your obedience that gives you both everything.
As you hang, the air grazes the soft, bared skin between your legs. You start to feel the ache center there too, a slow pulse between your thighs that asks for an answer, but Yunho hasn’t touched you since the last knot.
All you can do is breathe.
Yunho watches, circling you, studying you. Occasionally he adjusts a line, small calibrations of the knots, a little tighter here, a small shift of your weight there. Every soft tug at the tension line of the waist tie sends a new shiver through your pelvis, not painful, but a reminder of who owns it.
Your eyes close, and the whole world narrows to the feeling of the rope, the stretch of your back, the soft ache in your thighs, and the knowledge that he’s still there even when he’s silent, seeing you and choosing not to touch you yet.
It’s maddening in its perfection
He stands there, arms crossed, the flickering candlelight catching on the long line of his jaw as he watches you with familiar, analytical silence.
You’ve floated for long stretches before, you’ve been tied more tightly, bent even deeper, but something about the stillness now makes your skin feel thin like you’re stripped down to the nerves.
“Beautiful,” he murmurs, mostly to himself.
Your breath shudders.
The ropes hold you steady as he looks, your chest still cradled, but the waist rope is cruel in its elegance. That’s the line that keeps your hips arched high, your pelvis barely on the mat, your body bare and on display.
Finally you feel him crouch next to you again, and you tense in anticipation, your eyes opening.
Yunho’s thumb traces the rope that cuts across your sternum and you twitch at the sensation of his warm hand. You’re trembling, and he knows it.
“Name it,” He instructs softly.
Your breath feels thready at his sudden proximity, but you swallow and follow his words, “Exposed,” you start off, letting the words come naturally, “overwhelmed, wide, held.”
He hums in approval, “That’s what I wanted,” he tells you, “for you to give yourself this way, there’s no hiding with me in this room.”
His fingers trail over your side, over the edge of the waist tie, and you suck in a sharp breath. He presses, not enough to really move you, but enough to remind you that he can if he chooses to.
A whimper escapes you before you can catch it.
“Need to say something, sweetheart?” His fingers fall away from the tie, and his words seem soft, seem caring, but you hear the edge of heat that tells you the scene is about to change.
“N-no, sir.” You manage.
With a soft hand, he brushes two knuckles over the skin of your chest, ghosting towards the curve of your breast. He catalogs your breath, your sensation, fingers travelling over your skin from collarbones to sternum.
When he finally moves his hand lower, skimming lightly over the swell of your breast, he doesn’t apply pressure, doesn’t linger, it’s just a pass of his flesh over yours.
Your nipple tightens at the barest sensation, and he notices. Of course, he notices.
“Oh,” He hums, “is that what you want?”
You suck in a breath, but say nothing.
His thumb passes intentionally over your nipple this time, still soft, but deliberate.
You can’t fight the gasp that leaves you at the sudden spike of heat, your body arching into the ropes.
His eyes sharpen on your chest, “Needy, are we?”
“Yes, sir,” You whisper, voice hoarse.
He raises a brow, but doesn’t look up, “I wasn’t asking you,”
You flush hard, heat pooling in your cheeks, lips parting around a soundless protest, and then Yunho leans in and the warmth of his mouth ghosts over the sharp peak of your breast. He doesn’t kiss it, or lick it, or suck it, or even bite it, he just lets his breath tickle across the skin before he pulls back entirely.
The denial burns.
“So pretty like this,” He muses, still not really talking to you, “every breath, every twitch. I could play with your body for hours and never get tired,”
Your hips shift, just an inch, an involuntary move that leaves him smirking.
“Frustrated?” He murmurs.
“I–,” You take a breath, trying to control your voice, “I want your hands on me,”
“They’re on you,” He says, feigning naivety, his palm brushing over your lifted ribcage.
You whimper.
“What, sweetheart?” He croons, a mask of concern.
“Lower, sir,” You all but beg, “please,”
He traces a single fingertip over your navel, “Oh,” he says, “you mean here?”
“Lower,” You bite your lip.
His fingers skate down until they’re resting just above your mound, so, so close, and then he pulls away entirely.
“Mm,” He sighs, standing and circling around you again, “I don’t think I understand,”
Your body aches, thrumming with awareness and arousal now.
The rope creaks as you struggle to stay still, to stay grounded in the hold of his ropes and to obey. He steps around you slowly, watching you as he tests your submission, letting you unravel under the weight of what he hasn’t given you yet.
You’ve missed this, you’ve missed him.
You ache to be good for him, but your body arches as his fingers tap the waist line, hips tilting and opening more towards nothing.
“Please,” The word pulls from your chest, “please, touch me,”
He crouches by your hip, and without a word he brushes his fingers once between your thighs, just the barest graze over the line of your slit, a whisper light pass of his knuckle against your wet heat. He sighs, “Oh, sweetheart,” he murmurs, “is this what has you squirming?”
Despite the hang of your head, you nod, “Y-yes, yes sir,”
His knuckles pass over you once more, and then disappears as he stands again.
“Messy little thing,” He murmurs, “one touch and you’re dripping,”
You whine, helpless and locked open for him, under him.
“Shh, shh,” He shakes his head, “we’re just getting started.”
Your body is strung tight with need. The ache between your legs is no longer gentle or suggestive. It’s present, throbbing and hot, unbearable in the most beautiful way. And still, Yunho moves like he has all the time in the world.
He watches you. Every breath. Every tremble.
Your thighs strain softly against the ankle bind. Your hips shift as far as they’re allowed. Your chest rises and falls, caught in the tension of the Tengu harness.
You suck in a breath, but then he settles next to you, and finally, finally his hands return.
One slides up your leg, the other cups your breast, and he squeezes both with firm pressure.
Your body sings at the contact, a rough moan on your lips.
“Color?” He checks.
“Green,” You gasp, “God, green, sir,”
“Good girl.” He says it with heat, with promise, and then he moves with purpose, one hand parting your folds while the other finds your taut nipple, his body suddenly close and real and everywhere.
Two fingers dip through your slick slit, applying real pressure and real intent. He doesn’t rush it, and he doesn’t yet push inside you, but he explores you with his touch and with the rapt attention of his eyes, spreading you open and mapping you again like he’s relearning the shape of your pleasure under his fingertips.
You moan, soft, wrecked.
He circles your clit lightly. Once, then again, and watches as you fight to stay still, the rope creaking with effort.
“You can move,” he says, “you can buck a little, let me see how much you want it.”
Your hips lift, seeking him, guided by the tilt of the waist tie. It only deepens the pressure across your chest and ribs, and you moan at the compounded sensation.
You chase his touch without thinking, trying to rock into him with the little movement you’re allowed.
“Needy, needy,” he teases, “and I haven’t even put anything in you yet.”
“P-please,” Your voice is strained.
He answers you with a finger, dipping one inside slow and deep.
Your thighs twitch, your hands tightening into fists around the coils of rope.
“There she is,” He breathes, curling his finger just enough to brush against that tender spot inside that makes you see stars.
“More,” You strain against the ropes.
“Hush,” He delivers one tight slap to your inner thigh, the stinging heat of it leaving you gasping, “you’ll take what I give you.”
A second finger pushes inside, thick and sure. Yunho knows your body better than anyone, sometimes even better than you know it yourself. He knows exactly what he’s doing, how deep to press, how slow to build. His free hand rests just above your pubic bone, a steady anchor while his fingers work a slow, devastating rhythm inside you.
You’re embarrassingly close, too close.
Yunho smirks as he feels your muscles fluttering and tensing around his fingers, “Already?” He teases, his voice low, “I’ve barely touched you.”
“Please,” Your voice is deep, hoarse, not a trace of vanity in it as you beg properly, “please, sir,”
He huffs a small sound, and then he bends forwards, his lips connecting with your stomach, a lingering kiss just below your navel. He hums pleasantly against your skin, breath warm.
You gasp as he adds another, an open mouthed caress, the hot line of his tongue on your belly.
“A-ah, ah,” You shudder, eyes fluttering.
“Not yet,” He murmurs, “you don’t come until I say,”
You nod as best you can, your hips aching in the ropes.
He keeps the pressure building, a slow pulse of his fingers dragging in and out and crooked just right, his thumb flicking against your clit, but never for long enough, never hard enough.
He keeps you strung tight on the edge of pleasure.
“I need to,” You sob, a breathy sound as you balance on the edge of coming, “please, fuck, please,”
His hand stops moving.
“N-no,” You suck in a sharp breath, “god, please, sir,”
He sits up again, eyes meeting yours with steady calm, “Do you trust me?”
You swallow, throat thick with want, but you nod, “Yes, sir.”
“Then wait.” He says it clearly, crystalline in its command.
You nod, the first tug of tears at the back of your eyes as you bend to him.
He shifts his position, tucked close to your side on the mat. The ties still hold you suspended, back arched and hips tilted, your arms still locked up and open. He slides one leg under the suspended curve of your spine, and you feel the heat of his thigh as he presses upwards, a soft rest from below to hold you steady.
One arm reaches around, his hand cupping the back of your head, and he draws you close to him, holding you tenderly in his wide palm.
“You’re going to come now,” He tells you, matter of fact, “and when you do, it will be because I say so. Understand?”
“Yes, sir,” You breathe.
His fingers slide up and down over your swollen, tender clit just once, “I’ll count back from ten,” He says, “you don’t let go until I get to one.”
Your breath hitches.
“Say it,” He instructs.
“I’ll hold it,” You manage, “I won’t come until you say, until one.”
He nods once, and then his fingers return, slick and fast and fucking you with steady confidence. Every stroke pushes you higher, every pulse sends waves of tight pleasure rocking through you.
Yunho’s eyes never leave your face.
You're caught in his gaze, lips parted in silent, painful pleasure.
“Ten,” He says as the rhythm of his fingers deepens, “nine.”
Your breath catches sharply in your throat, a bloom of need inside you.
“Eight,” His voice is low, grounding, “seven.”
You’re shaking, your whole body clenched and ready, “Sir, fuck, please–,”
“Six,” His thumb circles your clit, and your vision goes white with pleasure, “five.”
Tears spill down your temples, your hips jerking into his fingers.
“Four,” He continues, “that’s it, hold it,”
Your hands lock tight over the ropes against your palms, “I can’t, I can’t,”
“Three,” He continues, “yes, you can.”
Your orgasm swells, hot pressure dropping inside you, and you don’t know if you can make it, if you can wait. You’re not sure if he’s letting the space between numbers stretch or if your mind is so dizzy with almost pleasure that time is slowing down, but it doesn’t matter. You’re a breath away, and you’re not at one.
“Two,”
You sob roughly.
His hand holds your head steady, eyes locked on yours, “One.”
“Yunho!” The feeling rips through you, a hot knife slicing from your center up through your chest.
“Yes, now,” He holds you close, tucking your spasming body to his shoulder, “come on baby, let go,”
You come like he summoned it out of you, your body breaking apart in the harness. Your hips shake, thighs twitching, your breath lost completely to the waves.
He holds you steady, cradled against his thigh, his shoulder, his fingers still working you through the tremors to make it last just a little more, just a bit longer.
“Good girl,” He whispers, pride laced in his tone, “that’s my girl,”
Your release stretches long, your body wet and unspooled, and the rope creaks faintly as your weight shifts in its embrace.
Normally, this is where he would slow down. After an orgasm like that, there’s softness, stillness, a grounding ritual to bring you back into your body as the ropes fall away, but something's different tonight. An echo of your words from the weekend flicker through you – I want you to push me.
His hand on your head tightens suddenly, his fingers threading into your hair to lock you in place with sharp, sweet control, and his fingers start to move again.
This time harder, pushing fast and deep into your still fluttering pussy.
Your hips jolt, “Sir!”
You barely manage the word before he cuts it off with a kiss to your forehead, his lips on your skin warm and steady and unmovable.
“Again,” He says in a breath, “you’re not done.”
“I c-can’t, you d-don’t,” You’re a babbling mess, blinking and frantic.
“I know,” He croons, “I know what I usually do, but I’m not finished with you.”
His fingers thrust deep, a relentless pulse, his palm connecting with your clit on each hot push in. The edge builds so fast inside you that it hurts, sharp and aching.
“Fuck, oh god,” You shudder, “sir, sir, it’s too–,”
He cuts your words, “No, it isn’t.”
You choke, pleasure sparking up and down your body in hot bursts.
“You’re going to take it,” He whispers against your forehead, “you’re going to let me break you open, pretty girl.”
You whimper, hips straining for something, anything, but the ropes hold you steady and wide.
“I’ve got you,” He promises with a kiss to your hairline, “you’re mine, you’re safe, let it hurt, let it come.”
Sharp sensation spikes in you, tears coming hot and fast as his fingers work you with precision and purpose.
And then, just like he told you to, you let it come.
Your hands relax, body going soft, mind sinking.
He takes, he gives.
Nothing in the world exists but him, only his rope and his hands and his voice. Only the shape of his want and your body bowed to him.
He feels the way you coil tight, strained and ready.
“Again,” He urges, fingers tugging at your scalp, “give it to me, come. Right now, right now.”
Your orgasm slams into you like a body blow, sharp and vicious. It feels like a release, but it’s harder, tighter and more heady, his name on your lips and tears on your cheeks as your body tries to fold together.
His hands never let go, coaxing every last tremor, every pulse, until you’re gathered into his lap, wrecked and wet and wholly his.
Your body sags in his arms despite the suspension, your back bowed but boneless, and he keeps his hands cradling you, his mouth at your temple.
“You did beautifully, sweetheart,” He murmurs, his lips brushing your sweat-damp skin, “you gave me everything,”
You breathe in, out, and shudder open.
Your body still floats, but now your mind isn’t far behind.
Yunho feels it the second your breathing goes thin, your hands falling open and relaxed while your eyes go hazy.
He moves immediately, still slowly but with direction. His fingers withdraw from your core and he gently wipes them on a clean towel beside him, before bringing one strong arm under your body while the other works the lock off ties.
You feel the ropes loosen incredibly slowly, your upper back eased back to the mat first followed by your waist tie, a slow relaxation of your body to the floor. Your spine eases out of its arched curve, and it takes a moment before you realize you’re breathing harder, not with arousal or pain, but with reentry.
Yunho cups your cheek, drawing your gaze, “Sweetheart,” he says clearly, “eyes on me.”
You blink slowly, your lashes still sticky with tears, and his thumb gently smooths them away.
“There she is,”
You swallow, trying to find words inside you, but none come.
He presses a kiss to your forehead, “Color?”
“Green,” You sigh, that you remember, “I’m just… floating,”
“I know,” He murmurs, “you did so well for me,”
Warmth pools again inside you.
On a day with less planned, this might be the end of your scene. You’ve orgasmed, you’ve been lifted, Yunho’s touched you in a dozen sensual ways, but today it’s just beginning. He promised you flight tonight; boneless, weightless, bliss, and all you’ve called is green.
He pulls apart the ties on your ankles with a sharp tug, the coils falling away to the mat, but then he moves.
One hand locks under your thigh and spins your body quickly, a rough transition into a new direction, and then he claps a hand over your chest, fingers curling into the binds of your harness at your sternum, tugging you up off the mat with a single pull.
You gasp, the sudden lift again leaving you swimming, and when you blink away the wave of motion blur you find yourself tugged up and in his arms, straddling his waist where he sits criss-crossed on the floor.
One arm wraps around your back while the hand locked in your harness releases, his fingers suddenly transitioning to a tight pinch on your jaw, positioning your face where he pleases.
You whimper.
“We’re not done,” He tells you, his voice firm, “you’re not done.”
You shudder a breath, caught in the sudden heat of his gaze.
“Sweet girl,” Yunho’s breath is hot against your cheek when he leans in, his voice deep, that rich dominant tone that sinks into his chest in the middle of a scene, the one he only lets out when he lets himself fully take you apart, “are you ready to fly?”
You melt into his touch, “Yes, sir.”
He feels the way your body sinks, relaxes, opens.
“Obedient girl,” You feel the curve of his smile against your cheek, and then his head dips to your neck, nipping a sharp bite that’s sure to leave a red crescent of his desire on the smooth column of your throat.
You shudder.
The hand on your back starts to work the ties that thread through your harness while Yunho kisses the bite, pain and tenderness always distributed in even measures with him. His body curves around you, not to cradle you into any rest, but to envelop and overwhelm you, and all you can do is let him.
Your head drops naturally until it’s resting against his, as if any part of your body is too heavy to hold up on your own, and with all the heat and pressure of his need he moves. You stay tucked tight, pelvis to pelvis, but he quietly checks your arms and hands for responsiveness while his lips start to work hot kisses up your neck.
“I want you open,” He says against your skin, his hands pressing into your waist to drag you tighter against him, “I want you coming apart until you can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t exist outside of this room.”
If your arms were unbound, you’d pull him closer, you’d beg, but pinned like this you just shudder, “Please,”
“Please, what, baby?” He bites at your neck again, at the soft flesh that curves towards your shoulder.
“Please, sir,” You suck in a sharp breath at the pain that tingles through your skin.
“Better,” His hand grips your ass, a silent warning, and then with a sharp movement it cracks down into a shocking slap that leaves you twitching.
“Oh,” Your body leans into him instinctually, “please, sir, yes, sir.”
He huffs a laugh against your hair as he straightens up, “That’s supposed to be a punishment,” he teases, “did I not do it hard enough, baby?”
Your brain feels like it’s going fuzzy, and you accidentally let out a non-committal sound.
His hand laces into your hair, tight again, and wrenches you backwards to meet your eyes
The sound that leaves you now is tight, animal.
He studies you, a flick of a smile on his lips, and then he slides you off his lap to the floor, “Stay.”
You’re shaking, body trembling from the orgasms, from the binds, from the way he’s touching you, talking to you. You think by the time he’s done, you’ll be cracked open on this mat, nothing but pleasured wet putty.
Yunho steps back to prepare the rig for full suspension and you watch him work once again. He’s planned this in detail, that much is always clear, and he moves through the motions with a confident set to his shoulders. Securing a large metal ring with wraps to the bamboo bar, he checks that everything’s secure and then checks again, testing it with a firm hand before he ever even thinks about lifting you off the ground.
It only takes a few minutes, but the strange silence of the room without his eyes on you leaves you aching, his lack of attention more punishing than a sharp slap or a firm hand could ever be.
The rig groans as he finishes the tie off.
He sets a loop of spare rope aside, takes a slow inhale and exhale, and then he turns and his hands are on you.
A soft, involuntary sound of surprise puffs through your lips as he grips your body, hauling you up to your feet like you’re just another piece in the scene, another tool to be arranged and prepared. Yunho sets you on your feet beside the rig, and keeps one firm hand on your back until he knows you’re steady on your feet, that your equilibrium hasn’t shattered.
You focus on your breath, on the rooted feeling of your feet to the mat, awareness grounding you.
“Spread,” Yunho says, not a suggestion, a command, and then he sinks to his knees in front of you.
Your breath catches, a spike of need bubbling, but you shift your feet wider apart until he looks satisfied.
“Good,” He praises this time with warmth in his tone, one broad hand cupping your right leg, “this leg stays free,”
You nod.
He touches your left now, “This one’s mine,”
“Yes, sir,” You swallow, holding yourself steady and looking down at him. His skin is flushed, pink across his cheeks, his ears. His dark hair mussed and already a little damp with sweat.
Yunho squeezes your thigh once and then holds your gaze, “Listen closely, baby.”
His voice is low, and you zero in, lips parting softly.
“I don’t want to hear a word out of that pretty mouth unless it’s a color,” He pinches your thigh this time, and you jolt a little at the sensation, “or an answer to a question, and it better end in ‘sir’. Understood?”
You swallow, “Yes, sir.”
He smiles, just a little and still close-lipped, “Color?”
“Green, sir.”
“Good girl.”
Your heart is pounding in your chest.
Yunho rubs the pad of his thumb over the spot on your thigh he had pinched a moment ago, and then he starts to wrap you again.
Your top half is already encased in the Tengu, one of his favorites for the way it opens your chest, but also for its versatility. This harness can transition well into a full suspension, and so you know already that he’ll keep it.
Your bottom half is another story entirely. He has options at his disposal, all different depending on the way he wants to see you held. When he starts with a loop of rope around your hips though, a diagonal cut across your low belly from right hip to left, you know it’s a gunslinger and you know you’re going up on your side.
Yunho works these ropes quickly, efficiently. A cradle around your hips, loops around your upper thigh, nestled by the tendons of your groin. The ropes get knotted together with efficiency and protective care until you’re wearing the side leaning harness low on your left hip.
Yunho sighs as he checks the ropes against your skin, his fingers deftly checking the meat of your inner thigh where the ropes cross tight but not too tight, making sure nothing’s pinched or pained. He’s always careful to make sure that if you hurt, it’s in the way he designed, not as a byproduct of his lack of care.
As he checks you, his hands warm against your skin, he shifts forwards. You breathe in sharply, but hold silent, your body suddenly aware of how close he is to you from his perched position on his knees.
“Hmm,” He hums, his fingers brushing over your exposed sex, “Look at you, pretty thing.”
Your core clenches.
His thumb brushes over your seam, two fingers then spreading your lower lips, his eyes locked on you.
You’re dripping, you can feel it.
“Mm, and this?” He sighs, and you can feel the ghosting touch of his breath, “Your cute little clit? All swollen and peeking out like that?”
Your teeth clench to fight the sound that wants to bubble up.
He sinks into your wet heat, hands braced on your hips now to keep you steady, as he lets his tongue slide over your swollen bud.
You moan sharply, body trembling, and your head falls back.
He licks a deep stripe from your fluttering hole back up to your clit, pulling you into him for the best angle, and he groans. He passes his tongue over you again, and once more, and then delivers a sharp suck to your clit before he leans back on his heels and looks up at you.
For your dominant, he looks debauched. His face is covered in your slick wetness, his eyes blown wide and hot and hungry.
“I’m feeling a bit greedy tonight,” He admits, and then he uses the bottom of his shirt to wipe off his face.
You bite your lip at the peek of his bare abdomen.
“Nothing to say?” He teases.
“No, sir,” You breathe.
Yunho smiles, and then reaches for his bag on the table to his side. When he turns back, your heart hammers hard in your chest.
In one hand he holds heavy, metal carabiners that clink together as he sets them on the mat. In his other, he holds a gift for you. Or potentially a test, depending on how you look at it.
Quietly, as if he’s not driving you crazy with every little thing he does, Yunho slicks up a pink egg shaped vibrator with a bit of lube, and then turns back to you. He doesn’t ask, he doesn’t talk you through it, he just reaches between your legs and finds your entrance with the slick, tapered end of the lush vibrator and pushes.
Your body jerks, naturally, just a little, and he steadies you with a hand to your hip.
He pushes up a bit more, and you feel your body stretch around it, accept it, and then the egg gets sucked inside and nestled right against your g-spot where it belongs.
Yunho smiles, and tucks the pink tail of the vibrator into place, “You’re throbbing, baby. I can see it,” He flicks your clit once with his thumb, “I haven’t even turned it on.”
You sigh, teeth locked and still trembling.
He doesn’t say anything else, but he also doesn’t turn the toy on. You swallow tightly, and watch him work as he prepares the rest.
His fingers work deftly to loop the suspension lines into your harness, he makes quick work of getting the loops and knots of jute tied just right to hold your weight up at the side of your Tengu.
The rope at your chest tugs softly with every breath, and the gunslinger at your hip feels heavy and secure, hugging you with perfect pressure. Your arms are still bound, hands forward and open, chest presented and offering, your legs parted, only one cradled in the pattern of the harness. He’s taking you up on your side, you knew it from the moment he placed the gunslinger, but you’re even more sure given where he ties the knots on your upper harness.
You’re not flying just yet, but you will be.
Yunho is quiet as he keeps preparing, working with precision, every movement deliberate and without urgency. He knows intimately how long you can last in ties like this, but also the importance of rigging you up safely so that you’re cradled at all the right pressure points.
Without words, he presses a warm hand wide over your belly and presses, guiding you two steps backwards until you’re in the right spot under the suspension ring that hangs overhead. His eyes flick over your face, but finding no resistance or discomfort, he continues.
With quick loops, he secures your chest lines to the ring above, checking and double checking the secured coils and lock offs.
The rest happens quickly.
He clips a sturdy metal carabiner through the thick side knot of the gunslinger and threads through an upline. Dropping to his knees again, he selects another long coil of rope and begins your third anchor point, a supporting tie around your upper thigh. His hands are warm and firm, his movements sure and practiced as he loops it into a secure single column around the thick center of your thigh, somewhere it won’t press too hard against the tender nerves that run along your inner thigh or add unnecessary stress to the joints of your knees. The rope bites in, but it’s not cruel, just exacting and direct, and his fingers tap along the skin to check the resistance and how it holds.
“Pain?” He verifies softly.
“No, sir,” You respond with ease, but that’s not exactly true. There is pain, but only the intentional kind, only the ache you’re chasing, nothing like the sharpness or discomfort he’d want to know about.
He nods once.
His thumb strokes over the top line of that wrap, and then he rises, threading the tail of that rope through the ring above you to make another line for his pulley.
You know this lift well, it’s one he’s explained to you before. Three points of lift: your chest harness, the gunslinger at your hip, and the added support at your thigh line. It’s one that’s balanced in its tension, but anchored cleanly in the center where the ring lines up perfectly with your hip, a slow tilt into your side suspension until you’re weightless.
His movements here are slow, controlled to allow you to ease into the motion, and as he pulls that thigh line, your left leg lifts. Your body is carried with the movement until he has enough of the tie through the O-ring above to gather all the uplines into one hand, and you balance on your one foot as your opposite knee raises.
Pausing here, Yunho cups your cheek once, eyes on yours.
You feel yourself soften, the tug of a smile on your closed lips.
That’s all he needs. His fingers brush over your jaw gently, once, and then he steps behind you.
You’ve done variations on these ties a thousand times, but never this exact connection, and something warm and fluttery rocks in your gut as he brushes one hand down your bare back, over the loops of jute.
He takes a moment to gauge everything once more, stepping side to side to review the ties. He’s tall and focused, his bare feet soft on the tatami, his dark shirt clinging faintly to his skin where sweat has built up on his chest and back. Yunho moves like he’s part of the rope, purposeful and practiced. Fluid with every step and shift.
His dominant hand rolls, wrapping the grouped suspension lines over the back of his hand until they’re secured in his fist, and then without warning, he pulls.
It’s slow at first, and his left hand guides your shoulder to the side to encourage your body to lean in the way he wants you. You follow that guidance, your weight all centering over your right leg as your body tilts to the side.
Yunho inhales, and on his next exhale, he pulls again.
Ropes drag over the metal ring, your harnesses and wraps pull tight into a firm cradle, your weight distributing across the ties, body rotating naturally into the tilt.
He breathes again, his feet firm and spread on the mat, core tight and engaged, his left hand finding the ropes now. Inhale, a soft beat of anticipation as you balance everything you are onto the ball of your right foot, and then exhale.
A steady pull, pull, pull.
Ropes creak, the bamboo rig makes a familiar groan, and then, you’re up. Your grounded foot lifts, your body tipping fully to the side, and your breath leaves you all at once. You hang like this for a moment, your body still sinking low into the hip that faces the ground below, and then Yunho moves. He doesn’t like to leave you in a transitional spot for long, mindful of the strain it can have on parts of your body that don’t need it. With another breath, you feel the steady heat of his knee press up into your right hip. He pushes up with his knee at the same time as he pulls down with both hands on the gathered suspension lines.
With easy grace, he gets you perfectly positioned on your side and starts to lock the lines with quick fingers, lacing the three uplines through the O-Ring: a gathered u-lock, a wrapped half hitch, all firm but intentionally ready for quick release.
With the loose tail, he tucks the rope through your thigh wrap, and quickly tightens it with a coil around the upline that leads from gunslinger to suspension point, drawing them tight together so that from the side it appears you’re only suspended from the point at your chest and the point at your hip, the third rope at your thigh nestled and concealed together with the gunslinger, and effectively dragging your bound leg higher and tighter.
When his hands are on the ropes, you find yourself focused on him, on the sensation of movement and vibration through the jute, but when he steps back to review and all you have is weight and rope, then the pressure hits.
The wraps around your chest hug tighter and the lines across your hip pull deep against your pelvis, into the thick meat of your right hip as your weight bears into it. Nothing hurts, but it burns, a delicious kind of ache that only weightless rope can bring, a feeling that grounds you into your body even while you’re flying.
This final suspension is a warm kind of surrender. You’re held on your side, perfectly parallel with the floor, a weightless kind of vasisthasana – as if he lifted you from a side plank into the air and pressed pause. Left knee raised, hip cradled below, spine straight with your chest just a little lower than your bottom half to protect your back and keep pressure off your lower spine. Your neck relaxes, head hanging to the side but still supported in the position, nothing like the heavy helplessness of a full inversion.
You’re cradled.
And Yunho is everywhere; in every wrap, every line, every point of pressure and controlled breath.
He circles you slowly, eyes carefully watching every moment. He checks the lift from each side, stepping behind you, then forward again, quietly crouching low to look at the way they cradle you from beneath.
You can feel yourself trembling already, but let yourself relax into it, sink deeper.
Quietly, he adjusts the tuck of the loose ends of rope, and once he’s satisfied, he steps back to admire his work.
You’re beyond open for him like this, legs spread wide and offering yourself to his pleasure, your chest presented, shoulderblades tucked and immobile, arms still pinned in place. You’re suspended, weightless, held. You let your eyes go soft, your vision relaxing without focus, taking in whatever exists in your field of vision and nowhere else.
Yunho reaches, his fingers gently curling over your ankle, lifting your free leg gently to guide you into a new angle. Your body rotates, a soft spin in the air, his opposite hand cupping your waist to keep you steady in the sway.
He doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t have to.
This is his favorite part, and it’s yours too.
The way the room holds you in such tender silence, the lift, the feeling of being nothing except breath and pressure. The way you exist singularly in his hands, for his hands.
On a different day, he might pause here. The quiet click of his camera shutter capturing disparate moments of your pleasure, your pain, the aching release of letting go. Today, he just watches. Breathes.
The ache in your body is already deepening, a warm pulse in your arms, your thighs, in your hip where the gunslinger bites tight and holds so much of your weight, but it’s not pain. Not really. It’s all a reminder, you’re not in control, and what’s more, you don’t need to be.
“There she is,” Yunho hums softly, his hand finally cupping your jaw, “look at me,”
You let your head tilt, finding his gaze.
His eyes are steady, dark with affection, soft with something unspoken.
“You’re flying now,” He says, “let it all go.”
With a breath, your body sinking into the lines, you exhale. You let go.
The ache settles into something steadier, your body swaying in a slow rotation as the rig creaks above you. The only sound in the room is the rope, your breathing. Held, tilted, and bound in the cradle of his binds you feel like for the first time in days, maybe longer, that you’re not responsible for anything, not needed for anything.
You let your eyes close, and you float.
For a little while, Yunho lets you. He stays quiet behind you, only pressing his fingers to your skin when he wants to double check your body for safety, for responsiveness. He’s learned you well though over the years, he knows what to watch with his eyes and what to be tactile about, he knows the exact shade your skin darkens to when your arms are bound right versus going dangerously numb.
So you hang, and time stretches around you until you’ve lost track of it entirely.
He changes the rhythm eventually though, first with his proximity, the heat of his body close, and then with the bare whisper of a touch. His fingertips skating over the arch of your foot, drawing a tender line over your anklebone, up and up, featherlight and exploratory. It’s almost absentminded, but you feel the intention of him all the way up your spine.
A soft exhale blooms from your lips as awareness creeps back in.
His touch rises higher, knuckles brushing across the inside of your tied thigh, the one that hangs suspended high and open, and all of a sudden, there’s heat in this touch, not just affection.
You feel the spark of it deep in your gut.
He says nothing when you twitch.
Another pass, slower this time. His fingertips press into the muscle, dragging down the line of your inner thigh, and there’s a moment, just a bare single breath, when you think he’ll touch higher and brush close to the soaked seam between your legs, but he doesn’t.
Your teeth tighten, mouth closing around a whimper.
His hand lifts, his body circles you again. You feel Yunho move behind your back, and then he’s brushing over your spine, skimming over the loops of rope. He pushes your hair to the side with his palm, revealing the stretched column of your neck, and his thumb strokes here once, the muscles tensing under his touch as you take a tender swallow.
You don’t expect a kiss, but he leans in, just a warm press of his mouth below your ear, and you shudder at the contact. His lips press lower on your neck, and then again on the crest of your shoulder, again at the top of your spine. He’s quiet, he’s careful, but everything feels deliberate now in a way that makes your breath catch.
“Color?” He murmurs softly.
You soften, “Green, sir.”
“Good,” He hums.
He shifts in front of you, fingertips dragging along your exposed stomach as he does. He doesn’t touch you more, not right away, and then his thumbs both brush against your nipples, just once.
Lines of heat spike in your chest and you jolt like you’ve been shocked.
The ropes press tighter at your sudden shift, and you can’t stop the moan that pulls from your lips as you wake up to his touch.
“Feeling everything, jagi?” He smiles, his voice low and warm in his chest.
“Y-yes, sir,” Yours is just a whisper.
His thumbs circle again, just a teasing touch that makes your nipples pebble up with just the slightest attention, and between your splayed thighs, your clit throbs once.
“Sensitive little thing,” He sighs, and you feel your mind go pleasantly soft at his tone, “hanging here all open and aching.”
A tiny sound works its way out of your throat.
His lip pulls, just a gentle smirk, and then you feel it.
The toy inside you wakes up, a low, deep thrum in a steady pulse where it presses into your g-spot. You gasp, your back arching, hips jerking in the sling. You had forgotten it entirely, lost in the sensation of ropes and air, so sunken into the lift that you didn’t even see Yunho finding his phone, connecting to the toy, and pressing start on the low pattern that would drive you into a dizzy ache.
“Oh, baby,” He says, mock sympathy in his tone, “you forgot, didn’t you?”
“Y-yes, yes, sir,” You twitch in the ropes again, “fu–,” you bite down on the curse.
“That’s alright,” He cups the side of your face, finding your eyes, “I’ll remind you what it’s for.”
You suck in a sharp breath, body rocking into the pulse of it.
The vibration inside you is steady, but not aggressive, not yet. It’s just enough to start curling heat low in your belly again, to make your walls clench down around the toy in a desperate ache for more, muscles fluttering from your earlier orgasms.
Yunho doesn’t give you more, not right away. He lets you sway in it, trembling and aching, until the gentle pulse becomes maddening. Never enough, not to push you anywhere except into the pulsing want for more.
You sob when his fingers finally slip between your thighs, letting the warm pad of his middle finger press over the swollen nub of your clit. He barely strokes, he just lets the sensation start to build with gentle pressure, circles that sync with the toy’s throbs inside you.
“God,” He murmurs, almost to himself, “you’re dripping down those pretty thighs. This is what you needed, hmm?”
You nod, breath catching, “Yes, sir,”
“Tied up and teased until your brain turned off,”
You whimper.
His fingers dip a little lower to catch your messy wetness, and then when the rhythm returns to your clit it’s firmer.
“You gonna come just from this?” His fingers increase their pace, “Hanging in my ropes, stuffed full of a vibrator, and your legs wide open?”
You moan, nodding, not sure if he really wants a response or if he’s just getting himself hard at the idea of it, “Y-yes, sir, fuck–,”
“You will,” Yunho says, “you’re going to take it and come just like this.”
Your hips buck, and then his other hand slides up your body. It’s not guiding, not here to soothe you or tease you, his fingers curl gently around your throat to hold.
You suck in a sharp breath, eyes flying wide open.
He doesn’t squeeze, he doesn’t press yet, he just lets the heat and the weight of his palm against the front of your throat feel heavy, fingers wrapped around the sides.
You swallow tight under his palm, your body stiffening at the new sensation.
He stills immediately, his thumb stroking softly once over your pulsepoint, “Alright?” He asks, his voice gentler for just a moment, waiting for you to communicate.
It’s new, but god, it’s good.
“Green,” You nod into his touch, “green, sir.”
His eyes spark with heat, “Good girl.”
His fingers on your clit speed up, firm circles, and he lets his hand stay steady on your throat. The idea of it alone is enough to make your thighs tremble with want.
“I’ve got you,” He murmurs, “I’ve always got you,”
Your head tilts back instinctively, exposing more of your throat, and that seems to break something in him.
Yunho groans, and leans in close, mouth tight to his ear as his fingers work faster, “You want to come like this?” He sighs, “My hand right here? My cock not even inside you?”
“Please, please,” You whimper, tears beading at the corner of your eyes, “yes, please, sir,”
His hand squeezes slightly, a pulse of pressure on either side of your neck that makes your breath stutter and your head pulse, “Not yet,” he says as the stimulation on your clit just stops.
You scream, or you would if his hand wasn’t holding your throat, no air behind the sound as you choke out a whimper, your clit pulsing as you seek more.
“Shh,” He soothes, rubbing a slow circle on your inner thigh, “you can wait, you can take it.”
Tears slip down your temples.
“Be good for me,” He sighs, “can you be so good for me?”
Your body is strung tight, achingly desperate, and the buzz of the toy inside you an insistent pulse that makes your head swim, but you answer him, “Yes, sir,”
He waits two breaths, and then he gives it all back.
“You take so much for me,” He whispers, “you always give me everything,”
You choke on a moan.
His pace picks up, fingers working fast in a messy circle over your clit with just the right pressure. The ropes creak as you jolt in his hands, arching, aching.
“Look at me,” He pulls back.
Your eyes snap open at the command, vision blurry with hot tears.
“Come.”
It hits like lightning, a sudden strike that leaves your body locked and trembling, suspended in midair as the orgasm crashes through you. Your cunt pulses violently around the toy still stuffed deep inside you, your body wrecked and open and unable to do anything but feel.
“Good girl,” He says, voice warm, pleased, “just like that, oh, good fucking girl,”
Your head swims, pops of pleasure and color blooming behind your eyes, every nerve ending alight with your orgasm.
Yunho holds you steady, his fingers still guiding your pleasure with ruthless precision, but when your body turns to reckless shakes, his hand slowly loosens its grip on your throat and he slides it up to cup your cheek and then you feel the toy inside you go still.
“There’s my girl,” He breathes.
You sob again, relief, release, it’s all the same. Your muscles go slack and you sway in the ropes, the heat of tears sliding down your face as the ropes hold you steady and Yunho holds everything else.
“I’ve got you,” He murmurs softly, “I’ve got you.”
You drift. Suspended, spent, breathless and open in the center of him.
Yunho falls quiet again and then his presence surrounds you. His hands are warm on your hip, brushing the sweat at your waist. The vibrator inside you has been still, quiet since he turned it off, but your body still clenches around it, twitching from the echo of what you gave him.
His fingers move to the lines at your thigh, and things start to shift. Decisively he starts to work, pulling open the first of several lock offs that will let him guide you back down to the ground. His body presses close as he works, and you feel the heat of him immediately, the thick line of his cock under his soft pants grazing your leg as he unties.
You twitch at the contact, the promise of it, but he doesn’t apologize, he doesn’t acknowledge it at all.
He steadies you with one broad hand as he uncoils the rope with the other, feeding the lines through and unravelling the support with relaxed precision.
Each tug and slide of the jute through the support ring eases you down a little, gravity returning to your body in precious little increments. The ropes creak, the bamboo bar lets out a whine, and your body dips as you drift downwards.
His grip tightens, and then you feel the slide, a slow and controlled descent until your right foot kisses the floor, just the ball first, then toes, then heel as you find your footing. You’re not grounded yet, not while the rest of your body is still strung up in his devotion, but it’s the first touch of anything and you exhale heavily into the sensation change.
More ropes slacken, the support line at your thigh coming first, and your leg releases with a hiss of the rope over metal. His hands follow the line down your leg, pressure along your inner thigh and then release, a check and a tease all at once as your other foot hits the mat.
Your rock unsteady on your feet, and Yunho tucks you smoothly into his side, unwrapping the gunslinger with nimble fingers before sliding you down and down, back to your knees on the rice paper mat.
You let out a puff of air, soft and unfocused.
He guides a hand over your hair, cupping your head for a moment, before he slides behind you on his own knees, his chest brushing your back as he reaches around you to work the knots of your chest harness upline. You feel the brush of his body, and then, as he leans forward, the brush of his hard length once again.
Your breath catches, and he leans into you for just a moment longer.
With gentle hands, he makes short work of unknotting the jute that kept you so cradled, your body shuddering and expanding with every line that falls away. Your skin prickles with gooseflesh as sensation pours back into your limbs and you shiver in his arms.
You’re still upright on your knees, but barely, your body melting and your spine bowed with the effort of supporting yourself. His fingers unwrap the crosspoint at the back of the Tengu harness, loosening the coils and unwrapping your arms with quick slides of rough rope over your flesh.
Every touch is grounding but somehow, with the heat radiating off him, equally claiming.
As your arms start to fall, he catches them, presses his thumbs to the center of your palms. Instinctually you grip back, squeezing him with as much as you can muster, a silent answer to his question about how your body is coping.
With that confirmation, Yunho lets your arms fall to your sides and he shifts again, this time on his knees in front of you. Your vision feels like it’s hazy, liquid and warm as you watch him.
In the middle of a slow blink, his hand wraps around a line still looped to the center of your chest and with a sharp pull he tugs.
You gasp sharply, falling forwards as his opposite hand catches your chin and drags your eyes up to him.
The heat in his eyes now is unmistakable. His want is thick in the air, and he holds your gaze.
Your body melts in submission.
With another tug, he guides you right down, forwards to the mat, and you go easily.
Your knees widen naturally for balance, sinking into a child’s pose with your arms slack at your sides, and you stay there, instinct guiding you on how to fold into his desires.
Your body doesn’t try to rise, your mind doesn’t flick through shoulds and shouldn’ts, you’ve sunken into that delicious place where Yunho thinks for you and you just exist.
His hand slides up the back of your neck, palm dragging roughly as his fingers sink into the loose waves of your hair. Gripping roughly, then releasing, he uses the pressure of his palm alone to push your head to the side, smoothing back your hair so he can watch your hazy expression.
His fingers go back to work on your harness, loosening knots until they’re yawning off you.
His hands search you, seek more of you, a soft brush on your ribs and a heavy drag against your skin. Fingers in your hair, soft, then rough, manipulating your body to his pleasure.
Then release, absence, distance.
And all at once a return to sensation, a soft brush of his hand against your head, smoothing your hair like water over a bowing sculpture. Then tight again, and tighter.
He drifts between both, tender softness and rough control, until the ropes are released and pulled away, and his body is nestled behind you, his hips pressed flush against your ass.
He’s still hard, still throbbing.
Yunho releases a tight exhale, just a puff of air through his nose, but that’s all, until he slides one hot palm all the way down your back from lumbar to cervical spine. He grips the back of your neck with that hand while the other slides under your folded body to cup your ribs, and then again he lifts you.
You lean back up, guided into the warmth of his chest behind you, the last of the ropes that were looped and tucked under you still sticking to your tender, slick skin.
His arms wrap around you, his thumb hooking under the last loop, the longest one that started the wraps, and he pulls, drawing it up and away from your body, jute running rough against your skin slowly with every second of his intention.
He watches how your body responds, breath catching, thighs still clenching, naturally sinking into the guidance of his touch.
Finally, he lets the rope fall away.
In his arms, you’re completely bare again.
His lips nuzzle the side of your head, breath still warm, and his voice cuts low through the quiet, “Color?”
You shudder, sinking into his chest, “Green.”.
He nods once, head heavy against yours, and then he wraps his arms tight around you before sliding across the floor. You cling to him, but this time when he lets you go and you fall backwards it’s against the soft cushion of the plush white futon that he rolled out for you both, just for this.
“Open up for me,” Yunho says, tilting your pelvis as he sets you down, “let me see,”
You keep your knees splayed wide open when he shifts back, looking down at you. Your mind is hazy, warm and delicious, but even in that you know what he’s seeing. Your body is soft, loose, slick and wet between your thighs, and covered in criss crossed indentations from the ropes.
He wets his lips with his tongue, his breath a little ragged in his chest.
He’s been holding himself back, for hours, days as he planned this, and now it’s his turn for pleasure. Your body aches in response, and if it’s possible to get wetter, you do.
Yunho tugs his shirt off, tossing it beside your discarded robe, and pushes down his soft pants. His cock is already rock hard, leaking at the tip and dark with need.
He strokes himself once, and then reaches between your legs to find the tail of the toy and gently remove it.
You shiver as it comes out, and moan as his fingers sink in, testing your slickness, your ache.
“Pretty girl,” He says, shifting between your open legs.
You sigh, mind soft, mistaking his tone for praise and not an attempt to get your attention.
A sharp tap on your cheek brings you back to center fast, Yunho’s fingers firm on your jaw, “You with me, babygirl?”
Your core clenches, “Y-yes, sir,”
“Still green?” He asks, careful whenever he sees your mind going gooey like this.
“Very green,” You breathe.
“Mm,” The hot head of his cock notches on your entrance.
You moan sharply.
“Yeah?” Yunho looks at you with mock sympathy, “you need it?”
“Yes, yes, sir.” You nod.
He smirks, just the pull of one side of his mouth as he appraises your need, “Beg for it.”
And like a trained pet, you do: “Please,” Your voice is husky, desperate, even you can hear that through the fog, “please, sir, fuck me. Put your cock in me, plea–,”
Yunho snaps his hips forwards in one brutal thrust, driving the thick, long length of him as deep as he can get it until your hips are pressed flush together.
The sensation of him spearing you open is like hot fire, and you wrench back into an arched cry, fingers scrambling to find something to hold. Your nails dig into his thigh, the rough texture of the futon below you.
“Fuck,” Tears are bubbling to your eyes already as you shudder, “fuck, sir, thank you, sir.”
He groans at that, a curse you barely make out on his lips, and then he drops his weight over you. Yunho crowds you in missionary with your pelvis tilted up, legs hitching around his hips and your back flat to the cushion under you. He wraps you up in his arms, one hand cradling your head while the other caresses your cheek, your jaw.
“Oh, baby,” He sinks his head down, forehead pressed to yours, “babygirl,”
You let your hands settle on his shoulders, and you drag in a ragged, needy breath.
He nuzzles you softly, just once, nose to nose. Your mind feels like liquid heat, like you’re floating in a hot spring just you and him.
But the tenderness goes just as quickly as it comes, and Yunho pulls back to find your eyes, “Sweetheart,” he says, “what’s the rule?”
“W-what?” You manage it.
He lets that little transgression slide, amused at your hazy, fucked out expression, “When I’m inside you,” he says, enunciating clearly so you have no chace of misunderstanding, “what’s the rule?”
“Oh,” The word leaves you in a puff of air, eyes widening.
He really is pushing you tonight. Your mind can’t consciously understand that here, in this moment, but something inside you is opening, deepening, with every moment he leans harder into the dynamics you’ve built over the past six years, every confessed fantasy, every need.
Yunho rocks his hips once, just a deep grind to remind you how far inside you he is.
A strained whine bubbles up, your mouth slack in a silent something.
“When I’m inside you,” He says again, his voice low, “when I’m fucking you, when I’m filling you, what is the rule?”
The word snaps to the front of your mind, “Daddy,”
“There you go,” He nods, thumb hot over your jawline, “I knew you could get there, baby.”
You can’t stop the way your cunt clenches tight around him.
He lets out a hot exhale from his nose, smiling as he glances down at your tangled bodies, “You’re so easy like this, aren’t you?”
You nod, fingers tight on his broad shoulders.
“Arent you?”
“Yes, Daddy,” You rush to correct.
Yunho’s eyes darken, his teeth catching his lip once as he looks down at you, and then his hips twitch, his cock pushing impossibly deeper with his subtle grind forwards. The weight of it, his body above you, cock thick and hard inside you, makes you tremble.
His eyes stay locked on yours as he draws back, just enough to make you feel it, the stretch, the friction, and when he thrusts forward in one perfect, brutal stroke you lose your breath.
You cry out, unguarded, desperate as your head lolls back on the cushion below you.
His hand brushes your jaw, and then his fingers apply steady pressure to guide your head back, “Eyes on me,” he says.
You follow his guide, blinking hazy eyes open to meet his gaze.
“That’s better,” He murmurs low, the intensity in his expression leaving your body taut and aching. Yunho lets his hips roll, slow and deliberate until your legs are twitching around his hips, “You feel that, baby?”
A whimper claws its way up your throat.
He adjusts, tilting your pelvis deeper with one hand locked on your ass, and then his other trails down the side of your body. It dips over your breast, your ribs, and then settles on the soft plane of your belly. He holds himself up, hovering over you as he touches you there, pressing his palm low.
“That’s where I am,” He murmurs, his voice low and certain, “deep inside this perfect little pussy.”
Your breath seizes, and you nod, your muscles tightening in anticipation.
Yunho thrusts, finding a slow dragging rhythm in and out that leaves you whining, but his hand stays steady over that spot.
You’re shaking, pleasure blooming deep, sparking through your body from chest to toes.
“This is mine, right?” His thumb presses into your skin, just above your tender mound.
“Yes,” You jolt with a moan, “yes, Daddy,”
A raw sound escapes him, his pace faltering for a beat, his eyes blown wide at your words, your tone, but he recovers and pushes himself harder, his thrusts firmer, needier.
“You always let me in,” He says in a pant, “you let me fuck you like this,”
All you can do is nod, heart racing, pulse skipping.
“Always let me make you mine,” He groans.
You shudder as his cock connects again and again with that tender, soft spot inside you.
His fingers tighten where he holds you, his eyes locked on yours, “You want me to fuck it in, don’t you?”
You suck in a sharp breath, one hand flying to his shoulder and the other braced against the mattress.
He exhales, hot, heavy, “Want me to fill that pretty belly, babygirl?”
“Fuck–,” Your words get strangled in a keening cry, your head swimming, thoughts sparking.
This need between you both is new. Calling him Daddy, the dirty talk, the filthy confessions about how much he wants to see you full of him, possessed by him, heavy with what he made. It’s not real yet, you’re not sure if it will ever be real, but here in this room, in play, none of that matters. Here, with his cock inside you and your mind soft and pliant, all you can think about is how much you need it.
He groans something else you don’t catch, and then your hand is sliding from its locked place on the mattress to the swollen bud between your legs.
He pants, lips pulled in a smile as he watches you, “Fuck,” he shakes his head, “you want it that badly?”
“Yes, Daddy,” Your fingers find the right pace, working your clit fast and frantic.
“That’s my good girl,” He braces himself on his forearms on either side of your head, kissing you fast, “touch yourself, come for me while I fuck you full,”
All at once the room feels like it narrows to the sound of his voice, the slap of skin as his hips connect to yours, the heat of his body radiating down. All there is, is him, only him.
You tumble into your orgasm, unexpected and sudden before you can brace for it.
It pulses through you, pleasure rolling as your body locks down, your hand tight on his shoulder as your legs spasm. Yunho fucks you through it like this is what he’s been waiting for, his breath warm on your cheek.
“There she is,” His forehead leans heavily against yours, his hand returning to your belly, “that’s my good fucking girl.”
Your eyes flutter, vision white-hot, the way you respond whenever he touches you like that is a mystery even to yourself but your body craves it, bends to it, and you sink into the feeling.
He exhales hard against your skin, and you realize through your hazy, fucked out brain that he’s trembling.
You blink hard, tears caught in your lashes, and look up at him. Your dominant, your partner, your man. He’s still braced above you, his skin slick and damp with a sheen of sweat. His chest heaves, dark red blush spreading over his chest and up his neck, and his cock is still buried deep and twitching with need. His hand brushes over your belly again, and he sighs.
“God,” His voice is tight, his forehead still pressed to yours, “you feel that, babygirl?”
You whimper softly, nodding against him.
His body rolls slowly, like he can’t stop moving, and the pace starts again as he curses under his breath, “You’re still so fucking tight,”
You moan, pleasure still hot and fluttering at your center.
“Your body doesn’t want to let me go, baby,” He kisses you hard, groaning against your lips before he lifts his head, just far enough to see you properly.
You can’t speak, all you can do is cling to him, your hands both braced on his upper arms.
“Do you know what you do to me?” He asks, his breath ragged, “every time you say that word, every time you let me in this deep,”
His next thrust is deeper, pointed, and knocks the breath from your lungs.
“I can’t fucking think,”
Your head drops back against the cushion, mouth falling open, nodding.
“I can’t,” He mutters it, like he’s the desperate one now, and he sinks down to kiss your skin. Lips tender on your cheekbone, your jaw. He nuzzles your head to the side so he can work his mouth down your neck, his thrusts still coming in steady pulses, his cock thick inside you and grounding you with every stroke.
“You’re mine,” Yunho says against your collarbone, “my girl, my good girl,”
Your brain is soft, and you nod, weak and floaty.
He rocks his hips deeper, his hand tipping your thigh to open your legs wider, angling you for the next stroke.
His cockhead connects sharply with something deep and primal inside you, and you moan sharply, your entire body jerking in response, “D-Daddy, Daddy,” your voice is slurred, pleasured, syrupy sweet to his ears.
“Oh, there,” He breathes, pleased at finding that place inside you, “yeah, right there,”
You whimper, but he stays, grinding over that spot again and again, his rhythm tight and focused now, like he’s working you open from the inside out.
Your body gives in easily, if there was any thread of resistance in you, any whisper of your own thoughts, this feeling drives it all out and you soften for him that last little bit, sensitive, slick, his.
“There,” You babble, hand drifting to your belly, settled over where he moves inside you.
Yunho moans, head dipping to watch where your bodies meet, where your hand rests, the angle, the stretch, the flushed swell of it all and the way you cup your own body with a silent plea for more.
“Yes, baby, there,” He murmurs, awe and affection laced in his voice, “right there,”
You sob, taking every inch. Your body too weightless and pleasured to move, but your nails dig into his shoulder as heat spikes though you again.
“Oh, shit,” He stutters, “fuck, baby,”
You whimper as his hand presses over yours.
“Needy girl,” He says, voice hoarse, “is that it? You’re desperate for Daddy to come in this perfect little body? Leave you full?”
“Yes, yes, yes,” The world sharpens again, your eyes snapping to him as he pumps into you.
In a quick rush he adjusts your bodies, your words leaving him groaning and needing something more. He wraps an arm under your lower back to hug you to his chest so that when he slides up the mattress you’re safe in his hold, and then he maneuvers you.
Legs spread impossibly wide and open, a deep mating press, and he gathers your hands in one of his, pinning them above your head firmly, wrists tight together in one of his large hands.
Yunho runs his other hand through his mess of damp black hair and then sinks back into you properly.
You cry out, twitching in his hold.
His eyes rake over you, the fantasy swimming between you, “You’ll be so fucking pretty for me, won’t you baby?”
You nod, mouth falling open.
“Right here,” He drags his knuckle down your stomach, a steady press of pressure that leaves your cunt fluttering, “tight and swollen for me,”
You gasp.
“Everyone will know,” He teases you, “everyone will know that you let me fuck you raw like this,”
“Ah, ah, fuck–,” You pant, and he’s not even moving, but some kind of tingling pleasure tugs inside you.
His eyes flick up to yours, and then again he descends, his mouth hot on your skin and his hips moving again, relentless thrusts this time. Your voice catches, something between a moan and a scream, but he kisses it away, like he’s desperate for your mouth, for your breath.
“Everyone will see you owned by me,” He pants, “won’t they, baby?”
“Yes, Daddy, fuck,” Your hands tighten in his hold.
“Do you think they’ll know you cried for it?” He shudders, overwhelming you with his touch, “That you took my cock and called me ‘Daddy’? That you begged me again and again to fuck you full of my baby?”
Your mind spins, eyes locking shut tight as you arch into his touch, “Please, please, god, please,”
His breath stutters, and you can feel him getting close. His rhythm gets sharper, his heart pounding in his chest, and his voice goes soft and wild all at once as he chases his pleasure.
“Gonna give it to you,” He groans, lips dragging against your ear, “fill you up, pump you so fucking full of me,”
Another orgasm rises in you, a sudden tightening and pressure low in you where he pulses his cock in and out again and again, and you whimper, head tucked into his shoulder as you hold onto him through the building waves.
“Tell me you want it,” He shudders, his hands tight on you, holding you impossibly close as he works you both up to the edge.
“Need it,” You choke against his slick skin, “want you to come, Daddy, please, want you to get me pregnant, please,”
He moans, “Again, say it again,”
Your mind goes soft, “Get me pregnant,” you beg, “make me a mommy, please, please,”
He lets out a rough, choked sound, his body jerking, and then he thrusts deep one last time.
You could swear the world tilts, everything going fuzzy and white and hot, and then you feel him pulse in you, a groan against your ear as he empties himself deep, his cock pumping rope after rope of his release against your fluttering womb.
It’s a flood of warmth, and he keeps you locked tight to the hilt with his hand on your hip, like if he moves an inch he’d risk losing a single drop.
“Fucking god,” He buries his face in your neck, a broken moan, “that’s it, baby, take me just like that,”
You tremble in his arms, the promise of your own orgasm strung tight and waiting on tender hooks as he lets go.
“My girl,” He sighs heavy, kisses travelling over your skin, wherever his lips land, “my fucking girl, god,”
You’re still shaking, body coiled tight and still right there, right at the edge of tipping into pleasure one last time. Stretched out under him, filled, locked in his hold with your hands pinned above you and his body still pressed in the cradle of your hips.
You feel every full, heavy breath he takes. Every twitch of his cock still hard inside you.
Your eyes are full of unshed tears, your walls pulsing with need around him, and he sucks in a sharp breath.
His hand releases your wrists, and he gathers you close in his arms, cradling you against him, under him, one hand at the back of your head to hold you in his wide palm.
His hips move slowly, just a rolling rock, subtle movement that is just enough to drag the thick, slick head of him against the soft, needy spot inside you that wants more. He shudders, sucks in a sharp breath like it hurts, an overstimulated groan on his lips as he sinks into you, but he doesn’t stop.
“G-god,” Your hands fly to his shoulders, bracing yourself here.
“I know,” He pants, “I’ve got you, baby.”
Another roll, still not thrusting, just smooth, deep presses as he works that spot again.
Your orgasm builds again, cresting with a vibrating heat that floods from your deep core up through your chest and you moan.
“So full of me,” He sighs against your lips, kissing you slow, “you’re gonna come again.”
You sob, gripping him, letting it take you.
“You were so good for me,” He says like a confession, “took everything, gave me everything, my good fucking girl,”
The praise lights up your brain, every nerve ending, just as his cock grinds just right against the place that’s been begging all along and you break under him. Pleasure washes over you in a hot wave. His words, the mess inside you, the way he’s giving you everything with just the smallest, most tender rocks of his hips.
His lips are hot against your ear, and your world cracks open when he says, “So pretty and pregnant for me, aren’t you?”
You cry out, the sound raw and caught in a half sob, your entire body locking down around him, “Yunho!” You don’t mean to say his name, but it pulls out of you in a moment of wrecked dizziness, and you cling to him.
“Oh, fuck,” He groans, sensitive and overstimulated, but he keeps moving just to make sure you’re carried through it, just to make sure you get every last drop of his release.
Your mind whites out, hazy, everything just a blank except the feeling of him deep in you, his body above you. You hear the blood rushing in your ears, your heart stuttering in your chest.
You don’t know how long you’re floating before you realize he’s still talking, soothing you with kisses and tender words like he can’t stop. His lips are reverent on your cheeks, your jaw, lips. He presses one to your forehead and sighs, “Breathe, just breathe.”
Your breath hitches with something, a catch of emotion, sudden like a snap release.
He’s stills, just letting himself stay heavy inside, and it’s voice that brings you back, “Shh, shh, baby, it’s okay, I’m right here, I’ve got you,”
You blink your eyes back open, finding Yunho above you. His brow is pinched tight with something like concern, but his expression is tender, and he smooths tears away from your cheeks with his thumbs.
Your body feels loose, relieved, sore in all the right ways.
You sob, clinging to him, “I–,” words catch, “I’m,”
“Easy,” He brushes damp hair back from your forehead and kisses you gently, “sweetheart, go easy, look at me,”
Your eyes find his.
“You’re safe.” He says that first, clear and calm, “You’re home, with me in our place.”
You manage a nod, a shuddering breath leaving you.
“The scene is over,” He cups your cheek, “right here, it’s done. You’re safe, you’re in my arms. Do you feel them?”
His words ground you down into your body and you swallow, feeling the warmth of his embrace. You nod.
“Good,” He murmurs, “doing so good,”
Your chest swells with warmth.
“Say it back, sweetheart,” He brushes away more tears, “tell me where you are.”
You take a steadying breath, and bit by bit the world starts to settle in around you again. Your voice is hoarse, but yours, “Home,” you breathe, “with you.”
He nods.
You exhale heavily, sinking into his touch, “Safe with you,”
His eyes shine, “Yes,” he nods again, “yes, you are.”
More tears snake down your temples and into your hairline, but neither of you are scared of them. It’s release, relief, the kind of tears that spring up after something that intimate and intense, and he knows to just hold you through it.
Warmth settles in your chest and you sigh, “Love you,”
He smiles, dipping to kiss your lips again, “I love you too,” he murmurs, “so much.”
You melt.
His lips press to yours again, just soft and present, and you can feel the way he loves you with every way his touch softens, every brush of his lips.
Everything is warm.
You blink slowly, your lashes still wet, and Yunho’s fingers gently trail through your hair, clearing damp strands away from your cheeks and temples, tucking them behind your ear. He doesn’t ask for anything else yet, just a soft touch that reminds you it’s him, that you’re still safe.
You stay pressed to his chest, your legs tangled together, and slowly the room starts to reform in the corners of your awareness. Your tears quell, and you shift your cheek, just a little nuzzle into the hollow below his collarbone.
A little sound leaves your lips, and it makes him look down, “Still with me?” He murmurs.
“Mhm,” You nod slowly, your fingers curling against his warm skin.
He smiles, warm, a kiss to your forehead, “Can I pull out, sweetheart?”
“Mhm,”
Slowly, he slides back and uncouples your bodies, and you suck in a tender breath at the sensation. He brushes his thumbs over your waist and settles your legs down into a more natural position, “Let’s do a few checks, baby. You don’t have to move, alright?”
You nod.
It takes effort to stay still, not because you’re resisting anything, but from how completely soft your body feels. Every part of you wants to fall slack and open, and you try to come back into yourself so you can feel, so you can have some awareness of yourself as he works.
His hands move in silence as he stays seated on his knees over you.
Starting with your leg, the one that was bound and raised, his thumb drags over the joint and presses behind, then down the arch of your foot, a smooth touch of his palm and fingers working across the curve. When you twitch, a tickle of sensation, he smiles.
He checks the rest of your leg with careful fingers, reviewing the line around your thigh, inspecting the skin for rope burns, his fingers skimming in the indentations. Your hips shift towards him at the touch, your body seeking his warmth naturally.
He kisses your hip without a word.
His hands slide again, over your arms this time, lifting them one by one and giving each his full attention as he twists you through gentle motion, rolling your wrist and then massaging each joint, each muscle.
Yunho’s touch is firm, patient, and loving.
A slow exhale leaves you, and then another, and another.
Without a conscious thought, your breath finds its way back into a natural rhythm, the room coming into sharper focus, your head no longer completely under water.
“Doing okay?” He murmurs gently, resting your hands back down at your sides.
When you nod this time, it’s a little steadier, “Yeah,”
Leaning in, he kisses your shoulder, the one he’s always careful of, and then he nods, “Alright,” he breathes, “let’s get you cleaned up.”
You reach for him, hands sliding over his broad, bare shoulders.
Strong arms curl under your body, and he lifts you back up, keeping you tucked against his chest as he carries you out of the rope room and into your master bathroom, cool air passing gently over your warm skin.
Your shower is well equipped for this, a bamboo bench installed along one of the natural stone walls, and he rests you there and before getting the warm water started. Steam starts to build, the glass doors fogging, and he leaves the lights low and warm as he slips into the spray.
Kneeling in front of you, he keeps his eyes on your expression, quiet and watchful. He tests the warmth of the water on the back of his hand, making sure it’s not too hot, and then with the handheld showerhead he washes you, guides the water along your skin, letting you breathe into the sensation, the heat.
He moves through the ritual quietly, washing your hair first, lathering it up with softly scented shampoo. You stay resting on the bench, your body coming back to yourself minute by minute as he cares for you.
“Lean back, love,” He murmurs, and you follow his guiding hand.
He supports your body gently as he rinses your hair clean, suds slipping over your wet skin and down the drain. He repeats the process with your conditioner, a kiss to the crown of your head as he finishes this first step.
“With me?” He asks softly as he lathers a washcloth with soap, his hand passing over every inch of your body with slow, steady strokes.
“Here,” You murmur quietly.
You watch his hands move over your body, careful of the rope marks that are still visible in places, gently caressing one with his thumb as he washes you clean.
Your shoulders roll back gently as you adjust, feeling coming back into your legs properly, and you look up at him. With a lazy smile, you sigh, “Hey,”
“Hey,” He leans in and kisses your forehead, water sluicing down his jaw and onto your cheek.
“You did so beautifully,” He murmurs against your skin.
Emotion catches in your throat, something warm and full curling in your chest, “I missed you,” you confess quietly.
Leaning back he brushes your cheek, “I’m here,”
He finishes washing you off quietly, and moves through the quick work of his own shower. You watch him with soft eyes, body leaning into the cool rocks behind you.
After a minute, he clicks off the water and wraps a towel around his own waist before bringing one in for you, freshly washed and soft, “Let’s get you dressed, okay?”
“Mhm,” You murmur as he wraps the towel around you and guides you to your feet.
Nothing’s rushed here, he takes it at your pace, easing you into the bathroom and drying you off with soft hands. When he slips the soft cotton robe over your body, it’s gently heated, fresh from the towel warmer and you sigh at the sensation.
Sliding your arms through the sleeves, you look up at him as he pulls the front closed and knots the sash loosely at your waist.
“How’s that?” He murmurs.
“Good,”
“Alright,” He kisses your forehead again, gentle, guiding you back towards the stool at your vanity, “Sit for me,”
You sink onto it, finding your own eyes in the reflection, and his body behind you.
You look flushed, healthy, your skin plump, eyes still a little hazy as you drift down from subspace. With quiet reverence, he picks up your hairbrush and starts to untangle the knots in your hair, beginning at the ends and working his way patiently upwards.
His face in the reflection is calm, still focused as he moves through his ritual of care, but fully relaxed. Any tension in his brow is gone, and there’s a softness to his brown eyes, and the gentle curve of his lip.
As he finishes, you reach up and touch his wrist, “Thank you,”
He meets your eyes in the mirror before bending down to kiss your shoulder, “Stay right here for me,”
You nod, and you wait.
He steps out of the room for only a few moments, always prepared, and returns with a cool glass of water. He presses it into your hands, but lets his fingertips linger on the bottom of the glass to steady it as you bring it up to your lips. You sip slowly, and he waits until you’ve had half before accepting the glass back, and helping you to your feet again.
He walks you out into the living room, lights dim here too, and tucks you into your favorite corner of the couch. He wraps the robe around your bare legs, adds a soft blanket over your lap, and brushes his hand over your damp hair ever so gently, before disappearing into the kitchen.
Your body starts to hum again in that quiet, grounded way that it always does after he’s held you through something deep, after he’s taken you flying.
Yunho moves through the kitchen quietly, and you listen as he works. The flick of the stove, the kiss of the fridge door, a knife on the cutting board and the familiar hiss of garlic as it connects to hot sesame oil in a shallow pot. Low music starts to flow through the space, punctuated by the chirping sound of your rice cooker announcing it’s hit another hour on the warming setting.
You turn and watch him work, and when he looks up and sees your eyes already on him, he smiles.
You smile back.
He cooks you something simple, a shallow bowl of dak juk, the rice porridge warm and comforting, and the gentle aromatics of the garlic chicken feel like home. He’s added some gimjaban, a soy egg for flavor and protein, and a healthy sprinkle of spring onion.
He sets the bowls onto a large tray, and then settles next to you on the sofa.
You tuck your legs under you properly, shifting to give him room for the food, and look up when he sets a warm hand over thigh.
“Try this first,” He murmurs, passing you the juk and a long silver spoon.
You sink into the meal, the first bite perfectly warm and salty, just what your stomach had been too soft to remember it needed. You hum pleasantly into the bite, body unspooling that last little bit.
“Yeah?” He brightens a little, “That good?”
“So good,” You nod, taking another bite, “you’re getting good at these eggs,”
He watches you for another moment, and then picks up his own bowl.
You eat quietly for a few minutes, comfortably, each of you relaxing into your own bodies again, eyes meeting every few bites.
When you reach for your water glass yourself, eyes a little clearer, he speaks up.
“How are you, sweetheart?” He asks gently.
You pause, asking yourself that question before you answer reflexively. Your spoon settles back into the warm bowl of porridge, and you nod. You’re back in your body now, mostly, but your mind still feels deliciously relaxed, and you catalog the warmth of him beside you, the heat of the food, the gentle but persistent ache in your thighs.
“I’m–,” You start and then trail off, searching for the right words.
He doesn’t fill the space or presume, he just waits.
“I feel soft,” You manage first, looking up at him, “very held.”
Yunho nods, watching you carefully as you parse through the emotions, his own bowl back on the tray so that all his focus is on you.
“I don’t know that I’ve ever felt that deep in it,” You confess, “if I have, it’s been a long time.”
His fingers gently brush along your forearm, “And now?”
“Safe,” You look up, meeting his curious gaze, “and you held me safe the whole time, I felt that with everything,”
He lets out a tight exhale and nods, tucking that truth away inside himself, “And the breath?”
You glance down at your bowl and then back up, a tentative smile on your lips, “I was worried it would scare me,” you confess, “that I might have to safe out of that,”
He nods.
“It didn’t,” You admit, “I liked it, and you were so there,”
“I’ll always be there,” His fingertips brush along your forearm again.
It feels like a silly thing to say, of course he was there, but he knows what you mean without having to explain it. The way Yunho is so attuned to you, so sharpened to you and your needs, the level of presence he brings in a scene is indescribable, especially when you’re trying something new.
He smiles softly after a moment, “I’m glad about that,” he adds, “I know it’s a vulnerable thing,”
“I don’t know why,” You nod, “but it gave me something I didn’t know to ask for,”
His smile is softer at that, eyes warm with pride, “You were incredible tonight,” he murmurs, “you gave me so much of yourself, you trusted me with so much,”
You reach for his hand properly, lacing your fingers together, “I always trust you.”
Emotion tugs at his expression, but he clears his throat, kisses the back of your hand and takes a steadying breath. It’s not lost on you, now that you’re back in your right mind, how much care Yunho puts into every scene with you. You can see that in every second of his relief after when you’re feeling like this.
“I asked you to push me,” You murmur, setting your bowl aside and sliding closer to him on the cushion, “and you really did,”
“Not too much?” He checks, cupping your cheek.
“No, baby,”
“You sure?”
“Mhm,” You nod, turning your face to kiss his palm warmly, “I’m sure,”
Yunho smiles, “You were so pretty wrapped like that,” he adds, “next time, when your right leg feels a little stronger, I’d like to guide that leg back,”
“Yeah?”
He nods, fingertips brushing down over your neck as he considers it, “We can work a harder predicament there when you’re open to it, I have a few ideas,”
It’s been a while since you’ve been able to talk about tying like this, and you drift into the comfort of it, “Next time,” you agree.
Keeping you close, Yunho reaches for your bowl of juk and presses it back into your hands, a silent instruction to keep eating while you talk.
You tuck back into the meal without protest, but then remember something you wanted to tell him, “Mm,” you look up, swallowing a mouthful, “Yunho,”
He hums to let you know he’s listening as he takes his own bite of food.
“The untying tonight,” You murmur, “I liked that.”
That surprises him, and his brows lift with a little amusement, “Yeah?”
“Mm,” You nod, a soft smile curving on your lips, “you’re usually… softer by then? But you didn’t stop topping, even when the ropes were off you really kept me in it,”
“I didn’t want things to feel disjointed for you,” He explains, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles, “and besides, I like you like that.”
You laugh a little, “Massively subbie?”
He huffs a laugh, “I was going to say soft, pliant. You get very honest when you surrender to me,” he cracks a smile, “but sure, massively subbie works too.”
Knocking your shoulder with his, you look down, focused on the food in your lap. Flickers of his touch pass through your mind though. It’s never about being tied, the finished picture of it floating mid air, it’s always about how you get there. His hands, the jute, the dance of it that belongs only to you.
Your eyes close for a moment, and you sigh, “You always make me feel like something sacred,”
He stills, his spoon quietly dropping into the bowl, his hands gentle on your face as he guides your gaze back up, “That’s because you are,” he murmurs, “to me, you are.”
There’s nothing to say, if you tried to you’d cry, so you manage a nod, a soft smile.
“Alright,” He breathes, kissing your forehead, “two more bites, baby, for me,”
You finish the bowl without complaint.
When you’re done he clears away the food with ease, checks that you have everything you need in your little corner of the couch, and then steps away.
His ritual for you is done, but this part is just for him.
He disappears into the rope room for a little longer, and you relax into the cushions to listen. You hear the soft rustle of jute as he recoils the strands, organizing the mess back into something neat and tidy. You can almost picture it, you’ve seen him go through this routine a hundred times.
Jute wrapped and packed, emergency tools tucked back into their proper places, mats wiped down, futon rolled away, candles extinguished and left to go cold.
When he’s done, he turns out the lights and slides the hanji screen door shut with soft finality.
The scene is done, it has been, but now it’s placed away, done, and honored.
Yunho returns to the couch with an easy smile and soft shoulders, sinking down beside you with a stretch, “It’s late, but I don’t think I’m tired yet,”
“Mm-mm,” You shake your head, “me either,”
You curl into his side without thinking, his arm lifting to welcome you in, and you nestle against his chest. His hand settles over your hip, his thumb drawing mindless patterns into your skin.
He reaches for the book on the coffee table, the one you’ve been reading but not finishing, and he tucks it into your lap before opening up a game on his phone, switching the track on the speaker and relaxing into the couch with you.
You open your book, brushing open the pages and finding your place, and Yunho’s arm tightens to pull you in just a fraction closer. For a little while, you read and he plays his game, in companionable, sated silence.
After a while, you yawn and he mirrors it back.
“Still up for dinner tomorrow with San and Hwa?” He asks softly, “It’s been a while,”
“If you’re up for it,” You reply without looking up, turning the page to a new chapter.
“Mm,” He hums, “maybe somewhere outside, it’s supposed to be beautiful,”
“I’d like that,”
“I’ll check reservations in the morning,”
You nod, sinking further into his side, your head starting to go heavy on his chest.
“Tea,” He murmurs, squeezing your hip, “then bed, you’re exhausted, sweetheart.”
You open your mouth to protest but find yourself yawning again, “Kay,” you concede.
He makes you ginger tea while you finish the last few pages of your book, ushers you to bed with the same gentle hands he’s used all night.
Tucked together under the covers he holds you close. Something in you just feels at ease, like he reached in and soothed the part of you that’s been fraying at the edges for months now.
Yunho kisses you softly, your chest rising and falling to the same rhythm, his hand on your hip like a tether. This time when you exhale it doesn’t catch, every breath steady and sure, shaped around the way he loves you.
summary: in which yunho has had a crush on you for the last three years but you have a boyfriend. but then you showed up at the office pissed, single, and in that skirt!
warnings: dom yunho, sub reader, unprotected sex, overstimulation, creampie, squirting, spanking, choking, throat fucking, anal, IT GETS FILTHY YALL 😭
genre: smut, romance, slowburn
pairing: nerdy office worker yunho x afab reader
word count: 18.5k
masterlist
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Yunho arrived to work at exactly 7:46 a.m. Not because he was aiming for that time, he just always took the same route, and stopped at the same corner convenience store for the same lukewarm canned coffee. But today he skipped the store.
Today, he felt… off. Maybe it was the storm clouds gathering over Seoul, or the subtle itch in his shirt collar that he’d tried to iron out three times before giving up. Maybe it was the fact that he hadn’t seen you since Friday, and his brain, like the traitor it was, had replayed the way you’d bent over the copy machine in your pencil skirt no less than thirty seven times over the weekend.
He adjusted the strap of his backpack and stepped through the glass doors of the office, nodding politely to the front desk clerk. His ID card bounced lightly against his chest, swinging from the blue lanyard he’d worn every day since orientation four years ago. It was frayed near the clip, he kept meaning to ask for a new one, but never did.
The office was already half buzzing. Phones ringing, keyboards clacking. Yunho moved through it like a ghost, nodding to people who barely looked up. He liked it that way. Quiet. Predictable as he made it to the break room and poured himself a cup of the bitter office coffee that always tasted faintly of burnt cardboard but apparently that’s how Seonghwa, the one that always makes it, liked it.
“Yunhooooo,” a voice sing songed behind him, “you won’t believe what I heard over the weekend.” Yunho didn’t even have to look to know it was Wooyoung. He turned slightly, coffee in hand, already bracing himself. Wooyoung leaned on the counter like he owned the place, dark hair still slightly damp from the light rain, tie already loose like it offended him on a spiritual level. “Let me guess,” Yunho said softly, blowing on his coffee, “someone hooked up in the archives room again?”
“God, no. That was two weeks ago. Keep up.” Wooyoung grinned. “I’m talking real scandal this time.” Yunho made a noncommittal sound as he sipped at his coffee. “Mm. Can’t wait.”
“You’re terrible at pretending not to care,” Wooyoung teased. “It’s about…. oh!” He cut off, eyes shifting behind Yunho. You walked in and your energy slammed through the room like a thunderclap. The buzz of conversation dipped. Chairs swiveled. But you? You didn’t even look at anyone.
No greeting. No smile. No wave. Not even your usual dramatic sigh and flourish entrance. You looked like hell. And not your usual flirty, lipstick smudged, wild weekend kind of hell. Your eyes were dark circled behind oversized sunglasses, hair up in a messy twist that looked like it had been done in the dark, and your blouse, usually form fitting and tucked just so, was rumpled and hanging half untucked.
You stormed to your desk like it had personally insulted you, tossed your bag down, and sat with a force that made your rolling chair squeak like it was in pain. Wooyoung blinked. “Okay, that’s new.” Yunho hadn’t realized he was gripping his coffee cup so tightly until it creaked in protest, standing frozen for a second too long, coffee cup halfway to his lips, eyes locked on your slouched, stormy figure across the room.
“Her boyfriend,” Wooyoung replied like it was obvious. “The one she never shuts up about but somehow also hates. I bet he…”
“I should go to my desk,” Yunho cut in abruptly, already turning away, ignoring Wooyoung’s knowing snort behind him. Your desks weren’t exactly next to each other… but close enough that Yunho had spent the better part of the past three years pretending not to notice every time you stretched, or sighed, or dangled one heel off your toes and let it swing. Close enough to smell your perfume sometimes, light, clean, and maddening. Close enough to be driven absolutely fucking insane by you.
He sat down slowly, trying not to look in your direction and failing immediately. You were rigid in your chair, fingers hovering over your keyboard like you were considering strangling it. One hand eventually slammed the mouse a little too hard, and you muttered something he couldn’t hear. Yunho’s heart thudded. Not from the noise, but from the fact that you looked… different. Not just rumpled. Not just tired. You looked wrecked.
Your eyes, even behind those massive sunglasses, looked puffy. Like you’d either cried recently, or hadn’t slept. Probably both. You weren’t even wearing lipstick. Yunho had never seen you bare lipped in the entire time you’d worked together. You always had something, berry stained gloss, subtle pink, sometimes that devastating red that made him choke on his coffee. But today? You looked like someone had ripped out your spine and left you standing on pure adrenaline.
He stared at his monitor. The login screen blinked at him. His fingers hovered uselessly over the keyboard as you sniffed. Yunho’s head snapped toward you so fast he felt his neck crack. You weren’t crying. But you were close. Your hands trembled slightly as you reached for your mug. You missed it the first time. Swore under your breath. And that was it.
Yunho stood up. His legs felt awkward, too long, too slow. He crossed the short space between your desks, fingers tightening around his own coffee cup like it could anchor him. “Um…” His voice came out lower than expected. Quiet. Careful. “Do you… need help with anything?” You didn’t look at him. You didn’t even blink. Just sat there for a second, breathing hard through your nose before whispering, “Not unless you can delete an entire person from existence.”
Your voice was quiet. Bitter. Almost dangerous. Yunho swallowed. His brain screamed say nothing, just sit back down, but his mouth, traitor that it was. “W…Well, um… that would involve… murder.” The silence that followed was immediate and suffocating. Yunho’s soul briefly left his body as you slowly turned your head, sunglasses still on, and looked at him like he’d just suggested a human sacrifice in the conference room.
He panicked. “I… I mean…. not that I…” He winced, backpedaling. “Not that I murder. I’ve never…. I’ve never murdered anyone before. Or thought about it. I mean, I have, I guess, but like… not in a real way. Not that I’m… planning anything.” Shut up. Shut up. Oh my God, shut up. His face was on fire. He could feel the tips of his ears glowing red, the heat climbing all the way down his neck. His coffee cup was steaming less than he was.
You took off your sunglasses. Slowly. Like a dramatic movie scene. The kind that would’ve played in slow motion in his head if he wasn’t busy choking on his own breath. Your eyes were definitely puffy. Definitely tired. But there was something else in them too. Amusement. The corner of your mouth lifted just slightly. “Yunho,” you said, soft but clear, “please stop talking.”
His mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again as you raised an eyebrow like, I mean it, and finally he shut the hell up. He stood there, blinking, nodding dumbly. “Okay.” You let out a short breath. Almost a laugh. And that tiny shift in your expression, just that tiny curl of your lips, made something in Yunho’s chest tighten painfully.
Because he knew you were hurting. Knew you were probably barely holding it together. But you still smiled at him. Even after he basically confessed to being a coffee fueled serial killer. He sat back down, face burning, fingers tapping nonsense on his keyboard just to give them something to do. You didn’t say anything else. But from the corner of his eye, he saw you pull your mug closer and take a small sip with a little smile.
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By the time late morning rolled around, Yunho had managed to get approximately zero work done. His inbox was full. His report was untouched. The blinking cursor on his screen mocked him with every pulse. But he couldn’t focus. Not when you were sitting just a few feet away, completely silent, when you were usually humming under your breath or clicking your pen in that way that always annoyed Wooyoung. You hadn’t spoken since this morning. Not to him. Not to anyone.
That is, until Wooyoung dropped by like a nosy little tornado at exactly 11:07 a.m, a coffee in each hand and a gossip radar so sensitive it might as well have been government funded. Yunho noticed him before he heard him, his lean frame half bouncing as he approached your desk, probably fueled by espresso and drama. “Hey,” Wooyoung whispered as he leaned on your cubicle wall, all fake casual. “You okay?” You didn’t answer right away. Yunho’s fingers stilled on his keyboard as Wooyoung wiggled the fresh cup of coffee at her. “I brought the caramel macchiato with the gross amount of syrup you like.”
“I’m fine.”
Yunho pretended to scroll. His heart pounded harder with every second. Wooyoung didn’t move. He never moved when he knew there was more. “You don’t look fine.” You laughed. Dry. Flat. “I walked in on him, Woo.” Yunho froze. “Wait…. what?” Wooyoung gasped. “Him him? That dipshit you’ve been dating since you had the personality of a soggy Post it?”
“In my apartment.” Your voice was lower now. “On my couch. The one I paid for. With some girl who didn’t even have the decency to stop when I walked in.” Yunho’s jaw clenched so hard it clicked. “Oh my god!” Wooyoung sounded scandalized, like someone had just spit in his coffee. “You didn’t kill him?”
“I punched him,” you said calmly, like you were reporting the weather. “Right in the jaw. Think I sprained my wrist.” Yunho’s eyes widened. A sound nearly escaped him. “But the crying,” you added after a pause, “wasn’t for him. Not really.” Wooyoung’s voice was much more gentle when he spoke now. “Then what?” You sighed again. “Because I’m a fucking idiot. I was already planning to dump him. But I still walked in like an idiot with Thai takeout and a bottle of wine.” Yunho bit the inside of his cheek so hard it hurt as you continued, softer this time. “So yeah. I cried. But not for him. I cried because I should’ve left months ago. And because now my couch smells like her perfume.”
Yunho gripped the edge of his desk as Wooyoung made a noise between a hiss and a groan. “I swear to God, if I ever see him in public….”
“I’ll already have hit him again,” you replied dryly and Wooyoung laughed. And Yunho? Yunho sat perfectly still, staring at the blinking cursor on his screen like it had just told him the meaning of life. Your boyfriend cheated. You were done with him. And Yunho… for the first time in three years… was officially out of excuses to not make a move.
Yunho stood up so suddenly his chair rolled back and bumped the low divider behind him. He mumbled an apology to no one, grabbed his coffee mug, still half full of now lukewarm sludge and made a beeline for the break room. His legs felt too long, too stiff, and he was ninety percent sure his left knee cracked like a tree branch with every step. Why did he need more coffee? He didn’t.
By the time he pushed open the door to the tiny break room, his thoughts were spinning so fast he could barely hear the hum of the fridge or the sputtering of the ancient Keurig. Her boyfriend cheated on her. His chest twisted all over again. She’s single. His stomach flipped. You’re thinking about how to ask her out? His heart stopped.
Yunho stood frozen, hand on the coffee pot, eyes staring at nothing as the full weight of his internal monologue crashed down on him like a rogue fax machine. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered under his breath, “what the hell is wrong with you.” This wasn’t about you. You were upset. Vulnerable. Probably not thinking straight. And here he was, coffee mug in hand, fantasizing about….
“Hi.”
He jumped so hard he nearly dropped the damn mug as you stood in the doorway, one hand on the frame, eyebrows raised. No sunglasses this time. Just your bare, slightly tired eyes, the remnants of rage replaced with something softer. Sadder. Raw. “Oh… uh, hey,” he said quickly, stepping aside like the break room suddenly belonged to you and he was just an awkward ghost haunting it as you walked past him, quiet, grabbing a paper cup and reaching for the kettle. You didn’t speak. Neither did he.
Yunho was internally screaming at himself, Don’t say anything stupid. Don’t say anything flirty. Don’t say anything at all, actually. Go back to your desk, you absolute desperate….
“How’s your code audit going?”
Yunho blinked. Hard. You were facing the kettle, back to him, casual voice like you hadn’t just sent his nervous system into complete shutdown mode. “Oh, um… good,” he said, shifting awkwardly. “I found a bug in the asset routing table, but… it wasn’t bad. Fixed it.”
“Of course you did.” You glanced over your shoulder. “You’re the only one who actually knows what half that code even does.” Yunho swallowed. Your voice wasn’t biting. Wasn’t teasing. It was… warm. And that was so much worse. He turned to face the counter, pretending to clean the lid of the coffee pot with a napkin he absolutely did not need. “Thanks,” he mumbled.
Silence again. The kind that crackled with unspoken things.
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It had been almost an hour since the break room. Yunho was still recovering. You hadn’t said anything groundbreaking, hadn’t dropped any emotional confessions or flirted or even touched him. But you’d stood next to him. Spoken softly. Given him your full attention without a trace of sarcasm. It was enough to make his brain run background processes at 300%.
He’d barely typed a coherent sentence since. His fingers hovered over the keyboard as he tried to focus on a particularly confusing column of spreadsheet data, blinking rapidly and mouthing formulas like a prayer. He was just starting to hit a rhythm when…..
“Yunhooooo!”
Oh no. He didn’t even need to look up to know who it was. Hannah. Her voice was the auditory equivalent of a forced smile and a too sweet perfume cloud. She was new. Sort of. Six months in. Smart, loud, confident and thoroughly uninterested in subtlety as she bounced up to his cubicle, resting her arms on the divider like she owned it, leaning just a little too far forward. “There you are,” she chirped, tilting her head so her ponytail bounced. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
Yunho smiled politely. The smile he reserved for problematic printers and coworkers who didn’t understand boundaries. “Oh. Uh… I’ve been here.”
“Duh.” She giggled. “I just meant, like, I hadn’t seen you. Anyway,” She reached up and touched his shoulder lightly, nails painted a blinding neon pink. “I was thinking about what you said last week, about that Thai place near your building? We should totally go after work sometime.” Yunho blinked as he adjusted his glasses with one finger and cleared his throat. “I… actually think I said I walked past a Thai place near my building. And I wasn’t sure it was still open.” Hannah laughed again, clearly unfazed. “Even better! Mystery dinner.” He internally winced. “I…. I don’t really go out much during the week. Sorry.”
“Then Friday!” she chirped, undeterred. “Or this weekend? I’m free all day Saturday. Unless you have a date or something?” She giggled like she knew the answer already. And that’s when it happened. A voice… your voice, cut through the air like a knife dipped in sarcasm. “Oh, come on, Hannah. If you tried any harder, you’d sprain your uterus.”
Yunho choked. Literally choked on his own breath as Hannah spun toward your desk, which was only a few cubicles away. You hadn’t even gotten up. Just swiveled in your chair, one brow raised, legs crossed, mug in hand like you had nothing but time and spite. Hannah narrowed her eyes. “Excuse me?” You sipped your coffee. “You heard me.”
“I’m just trying to be friendly.”
“Friendly? Girl, you’ve been circling him like a vulture since HR orientation. He’s just too polite to tell you to take the hint.”
Yunho wanted to die. Or disappear. Or crawl under his desk and become one with the ethernet cables. But…. he also couldn’t stop staring. Because your voice wasn’t angry. It was calm. Sharp. Precise. Like a blade that knew exactly where to slice. Hannah scoffed, cheeks pink. “Wow. Jealous much?” You smiled sweetly, dangerously. “Please. If I wanted him, I’d already have him.”
And just like that, she was gone. Not a stomp. Not a huff. Just a sharp turn and a clack, clack, clack of heels as she retreated like a scolded intern. Yunho was frozen in his chair. The air around him buzzed.
If I wanted him, I’d already have him.
Those words echoed in his head like a dropped marble in an empty hallway. You didn’t look at him again. Just turned back to your monitor, fingers moving, business as usual. But Yunho? Yunho was reeling. Because for the first time since he met you… He didn’t know if you were teasing. And that terrified him almost as much as it thrilled him.
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Lunch break.
Yunho lived for it. Not just because he was hungry, which, to be fair, was basically his default state, but because it was the one time in the day he could slip out of the office and disappear for a blissful sixty minutes into the quiet of his favorite little noodle place two blocks down. No coworkers. No break room coffee. No her. Not that he didn’t like being around you.
God, no. He loved being around you. Too much. So much it felt dangerous. So he kept his distance, showed up at holiday parties and said awkward things like “those are festive” to someone’s tinsel earrings, and watched you dance with other people while he stood by the punch bowl trying to remember how to breathe. He clutched his wallet, slipped on his light jacket, and nodded to a few people as he headed for the elevator, earbuds already halfway in. Routine. Simple. Safe.
“Yunho!”
He stopped short. There you were. Right behind him. Holding your phone in one hand, jacket slung over your arm, that unreadable look on your face again. “Are you headed to lunch?” He blinked, slowly lowering his earbuds. “Uh. Yeah.” You stepped closer, adjusting the strap of your purse. “Mind company?”
His brain crashed. Completely. Error 404: Cool Response Not Found. The last time he’d been near you outside of work, you’d dragged him onto the dance floor at the company Christmas party after half a glass of spiked cider and told him he needed to “loosen up before you short circuit.” He’d spilled eggnog on himself ten minutes later and gone home early. He opened his mouth. No words came out. He swallowed as you tilted your head. “You know. If that’s okay. If you don’t want to be alone.”
“No!” he blurted causing your eyebrows to rise slightly. “I mean yes. I mean…. no, I don’t mind. Company. Your company. I mean…” He paused, took a breath, and mentally slapped himself. “You’re welcome to join me.”
You smiled, small, soft, and something else beneath it. Almost… tentative. “Cool,” you said, slipping your phone into your bag. “I could use food. And air. Maybe carbs will finally cure my stupidity.” Yunho opened the door for you, heart thudding like a jackhammer under his dress shirt.
You didn’t know it, but you’d just done something no one else at that office had managed to do in three years. You’d made Jeong Yunho ditch his comfort zone. And now he was going to try really, really hard not to fall in love more with you over a bowl of hot soup.
Yunho walked ahead of you as you reached the lot, clutching his jacket tighter than necessary, keys in hand. The sun was bright, bouncing off the sleek black hood of his car like a spotlight, and his nerves were already performing an off Broadway musical inside his chest. He could feel you behind him. Your footsteps were unhurried, calm, like you weren’t about to casually ruin his emotional stability over lunch noodles.
He clicked the unlock button. The 1967 Chevelle chirped in response, a deep, throaty echo that vibrated in the still midday air.
“I knew this was your car.”
Yunho froze mid step as you came up beside him, grin already curling the corners of your mouth. “I see it in the lot all the time. How could I not know? It’s the only car here that looks like sex on wheels.”
He turned, throat dry. Gulping. “You… knew it was mine?”
“Yup.” You walked around the front of the car slowly, fingers brushing just above the glossy black surface, reverent like you were touching something sacred. “Three years of teasing you in the office and never once getting to ride in the car? Tragic.” His brain short circuited somewhere around ride and teasing. “I didn’t think you… noticed it,” he managed to say, because his brain clearly hated him.
You gave him a look, sharp and amused. “Yunho, I’ve noticed everything about you.” He forgot how to breathe. Then, casually, like you weren’t shattering his entire worldview, “So…. You gonna let me in or am I gonna have to dramatically sprawl across the hood until someone calls security?”
He scrambled to open the passenger door for you, nearly dropping his keys in the process. You slid in with a soft sigh, leaning back into the seat like you belonged there, legs crossed and fingertips resting lightly on your thigh. Yunho stared for half a second too long before remembering he was supposed to drive.
He slipped into the driver’s seat, adjusting his mirror and pretending he wasn’t sweating through his shirt as you glanced over, that same little grin still playing on your lips. “This car is sexy,” you said again, voice lower now, like you knew exactly what you were doing. Yunho gripped the steering wheel, cleared his throat, and tried to convince himself that this was still just lunch. But when he looked over and caught you watching him like that? He knew. It wasn’t just lunch anymore.
The engine purred to life with a low, guttural growl that sent a shiver down Yunho’s spine, and, unbeknownst to him, yours too. He pulled out of the lot smoothly, one hand on the wheel, the other reaching to adjust the rearview mirror, but only so he didn’t have to look directly at you. He was very aware you were in his car. Sitting in his passenger seat. Looking around like you’d just been given a backstage pass to a private fantasy.
Yunho swallowed hard as he propped his left elbow up against the window frame, fingers loosely curled against the roof edge. His right hand stayed on the wheel, resting low at six o’clock, thumb tapping nervously. The pose wasn’t on purpose. It was muscle memory. Just the way he liked to drive. But to you? It was filth. That white button down stretched just enough over his chest as he leaned, sleeves rolled halfway up his forearms, exposing slightly tan skin and subtly flexed veins. His fingers gripped the wheel like it was the only thing anchoring him to earth, jaw ticking ever so slightly when he switched lanes.
And the glasses? Forget it. Game over. You didn’t speak. Not right away. Because damn. You’d always known Yunho was attractive. There was something devastatingly endearing about how awkward he could be, how he blushed every time you leaned too close at the copier or asked him to fix your monitor for the sixth time in a month. But this? This quiet, concentrated version of him? Focused on the road, sunlight hitting the side of his jaw, one hand lazily turning the wheel like he’d done it a thousand times with a girl in the seat next to him? Yeah. You were ruined.
Meanwhile, Yunho’s internal monologue was a disaster, Okay. Breathe. She’s just being nice. She’s sitting here because she wanted lunch. Not because she…. Wait, is she staring? She’s staring. Don’t look. Just… OH GOD DON’T SMILE SHE’S LOOKING. Why is she so quiet? Is that good? Bad? Did I forget deodorant? Did she just lick her lips….
“You always drive like this?” you asked, finally, your voice low and far too casual for the chaos you were causing. Yunho blinked. “L… Like what?” You gestured vaguely. “One arm up. Hand on the wheel. Looking like you’re about to drag race Vin Diesel for pink slips and emotional closure.” He choked. “I… I don’t know. I just…. I guess this is comfortable?”
You turned your head, cheek pressed against the seat. “Mm. Looks good on you.” He nearly swerved into a turn lane. “I mean,” you added, clearly enjoying the effect, “the car’s sexy. But the driver? That’s a whole separate problem.” Yunho gripped the wheel harder. And that vein on his forearm? Popped. Just as his favorite noodle place came into view.
The Chevelle pulled up to the curb with a low rumble that turned a few heads on the sidewalk. Yunho parallel parked with mechanical ease, still one hand on the wheel, one arm braced on the window like muscle memory had possessed him as you watched him kill the engine, then glance at you, clearly trying to keep it casual. “This is it,” he said, nodding toward the unassuming noodle shop tucked between a laundromat and a hardware store. Its windows were fogged slightly, bright with handwritten signs in the glass. You already loved it.
Yunho walked around the car and opened your door before you could reach for the handle. Gentleman. Always. Your stomach did a small, traitorous flip. He held the door of the restaurant open, that familiar little bell jingling as you both stepped inside. It smelled like garlic and soy and something comfortingly spicy. The kind of place that healed your soul and gave you heartburn if you weren’t careful.
Behind the counter stood a compact older man in a black apron, wiping his hands on a towel. His eyes lit up when he saw Yunho. “Ah! Jeong Yunho!” he greeted with a warm, booming voice. “You’re late today.” Yunho smiled sheepishly, bowing slightly. “Got held up at work.” The man waved off the explanation like he’d already forgiven him for a crime. “Same as usual? Spicy broth, no egg, extra beef, extra noodles?”
Yunho nodded. “Yes, please.”Then the owner’s gaze shifted. To you. His brows lifted. “Ohhh,” he said slowly, a grin curling across his face. “You brought a guest.” Yunho looked like someone had thrown a bucket of ice water down his back. “Y… Yeah. This is my… she’s my… uh….. coworker.” The way he said it sounded like a question. Like even he didn’t quite believe it.
You extended a hand, smile polite but amused. “Y/N. I’ve been trying to convince him to share his secret noodle spot for years.”You joked as the owner chuckled, shaking your hand firmly. “Welcome, Y/N. I thought he was saving this place for a girlfriend, the way he guards it.” Yunho made a sound, somewhere between a cough and a tiny death. “I… I don’t…. guard it,” he stammered, eyes darting to you, then back to the counter. “I just…. like it. A lot.”
The owner winked at you like you were in on some joke. “I’ll give you both the good seats. Back corner, nice and quiet.”
“Thank you,” you said, still grinning as Yunho practically fled to the booth, his ears glowing crimson. You slid in across from him, legs brushing under the table just enough to make him twitch as he stared at the menu like it was a legal document. You leaned forward slightly, chin in hand, voice low. “Saving this place for a girlfriend, huh?”
Yunho’s glasses slipped down his nose as he stared down at the menu like it was going to rescue him from the absolute emotional unraveling currently happening under this fluorescent lighting. You were across from him, your smile a little too smug, a little too knowing.
Yunho shoved his glasses up his nose like that would help him hide. “He exaggerates. I mean, I just like this place. It’s quiet. Reliable.” Your voice softened, teasing just enough to toe the line. “So… I’m the first?” He blinked. “The first?” You leaned forward, elbows on the table. “First person you’ve brought here.” Oh. Oh god. “Yes,” he admitted, barely above a whisper. “You are.”
That earned you a small smile. A real one. Not sarcastic. Not mocking. And then your eyes dropped to the table for a moment, lashes low. The shift in your posture was subtle but he caught it. So did the heaviness that suddenly settled between you both. Your voice, when you spoke again, was quieter. Not quite fragile, but real. “Did you hear what happened?”
Yunho’s mouth opened. Then closed. Because yes, he had. Every word. From behind the fake safety of his monitor, eavesdropping like some heartbroken intern on a kdrama. But he couldn’t say that. He played dumb. “What do you mean?” You sighed, gaze drifting to the napkin you were folding between your fingers. “To me. This morning.”
He watched you, carefully. “No.” Lying. He hated it. But he needed you to say it, because this wasn’t about what he’d heard. It was about what you needed to get off your chest. “My boyfriend,ex, I walked in on him cheating.” Your voice was flat. Controlled. The way it gets when someone’s trying not to feel too much at once. “In my apartment,” you continued. “On my couch. With someone I knew.”
Yunho’s jaw clenched. You didn’t look up. “I hit him. Screamed. Threw the takeout I’d bought. Then cried like a complete idiot on the bathroom floor for half an hour.”
“You’re not an idiot,” he said immediately, chest tightening as you gave him a look that was all tired deflection. “Felt like one. I should’ve left him months ago. I knew he was trash. I just…“
Yunho shook his head. “You weren’t wrong, he was just good at being trash.” That made you laugh. A short, breathy sound that was as surprised as it was genuine. Yunho smiled, just a little. “He didn’t cheat because there’s something wrong with you. He cheated because he’s an undeserving asshole with the emotional intelligence of a traffic cone.”
You looked at him. Really looked. There was something vulnerable in your eyes now. Unshielded. “And you,” he continued, swallowing thickly, “you deserved better. You deserve better.” You didn’t speak. Not for a long second. Just tilted your head, curious. “You always say the right thing when it counts, huh?”
He flushed. “I don’t know about that.” Then, softly, like it slipped out before he could stop it, “I just… I’ve been wishing I could bring you here for a long time.” Your eyebrows lifted slightly. “What?” Yunho’s soul left the conversation. “I…. I mean… not in a weird way. Just… I thought you might like it. And you… you do….. and I’m glad. That’s all. That’s…. yeah.”
You sat back slowly. And smiled. But not the teasing kind. Not the sarcastic kind. This smile was smaller. Softer. A little sad around the edges, like you didn’t quite trust it yet but it was real. “Thanks, Yunho.” And he realized in that moment…. he would take you to this noodle shop a thousand times if it meant you’d look at him like that again.
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Yunho was trying to work. Really. His fingers were on the keyboard. The spreadsheet was open. His little office plant was thriving. There was even a half full mug of fresh coffee on his desk. But none of that mattered. Because approximately fifteen feet away, you were currently bent over Wooyoung’s desk, short skirt riding up ever so slightly as you leaned in to look at something on his monitor, laughing at something he said, and Yunho could not. He couldn’t. His brain had entered a code red.
Your thighs. Smooth. Bare. Soft looking in a way that made him want to bite his own tongue just to behave. You shifted slightly, one heel lifting, the skirt pulling just a bit more, taunting him. Daring him to look. He told himself not to. He was a good coworker. A respectful man. You were his friend. His crush. A real person who trusted him. And then Wooyoung, damn him, swiveled in his chair a little too fast and smacked his elbow on the edge of the desk.
You yelped, laughing as he stumbled backward and instinctively reached out, landing squarely against you, palms gripping your waist for balance. You both laughed. A real one. Loud, unfiltered, echoing in the open office space. Yunho’s heart dropped to his knees. And that’s when it happened. You leaned over to help Wooyoung straighten his chair, skirt hiking just enough…. and Yunho caught a flash of black lace and delicate straps peeking beneath the hem.
He didn’t mean to see it. But he saw it. And it burned itself into the back of his skull like a branding iron. A thong. Black. Minimal. God tier. He blinked. Then blinked again. And then shut his laptop completely before he short circuited in public. His pulse was thudding so loud in his ears he couldn’t even hear your laughter anymore. His throat was dry. He shifted in his chair, thighs tense, hands clasped in his lap because he had exactly zero control over what the hell his body was doing.
And his brain? Useless. Absolutely useless. Her boyfriend cheated on her. She’s single. She’s here. She laughed at his joke, but she came to lunch with me. She’s wearing that. And I just saw…. I need to log out of life real quick. He reached for his coffee and completely missed the handle, fingers fumbling so badly he nearly knocked the mug into his keyboard. He ducked his head, face burning, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes like that might help scrub the image from his brain. It didn’t. It absolutely didn’t.
Yunho didn’t move for ten minutes. Well, physically, he hadn’t. But inside? He was spiraling through seven layers of hell, purgatory, and maybe a fever dream or two. He was staring at his work monitor, open to an email he hadn’t processed at all, pretending to read while absolutely not thinking about the lace he’d seen. Or the way your laugh had wrapped around him like a damn hug. Or the fact that you were still nearby, chatting with Wooyoung like you hadn’t just cracked his soul wide open.
“Yunho.” Your voice, right next to him. He jolted so hard he hit his knee on the underside of his desk. “Ah…. ow… shit…. hi.” You were already smirking. Not sweet. Not innocent. This was the smirk of a woman who knew. “You okay?” you asked, too casually. “Yep,” he said, voice a full octave too high. “Totally. Fine. Good.” You tilted your head. “You look… tense.”
Yunho tried to sit normally. Tried to unclench every part of his body currently doing its best impersonation of a steel beam as you leaned in closer, dropping your voice just enough to make his spine straighten. “Anything distracting you?” He glanced up at you and your eyes sparkled, lips curled in quiet amusement. “I….. I uh…. no. Just a bug in the… spreadsheet,” he muttered, which wasn’t even a thing, and he hated himself immediately for saying it.
You bit back a laugh. “Well,” you said, straightening up and tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, “if you need help debugging anything, just let me know.” Yunho opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out but air. And then you turned, slowly, walking away with a deliberate sway in your hips that absolutely wasn’t there earlier.
He got up in a rush and hurried to the break room just to be able to think without you near him. He gripped the edge of the counter like it might keep him from floating into space. The coffee machine wheezed to life beside him, clearly tired of his shit. He exhaled slowly, shaking his head, his conscious patronizing him, You saw a flash of black lace and now you’re malfunctioning. You are a professional. You are not a teenage boy at his first fan meeting. Get it together….
“Are you running from me?” Your voice again. Right behind him. He cursed every deity he’d ever heard of. You leaned against the counter beside him, arms crossed, clearly enjoying his descent into madness. Yunho shook his head rapidly. “N… No. I’m not. I just…. needed caffeine. That’s all. For focus. For work.”
Mhm.” You nodded slowly. “Definitely not because you saw my thong, then almost broke your coffee mug.” Yunho’s heart stopped. Fully stopped. He turned to you, eyes wide, throat dry. “I…. I didn’t mean to… It was an accident, I swear, I wasn’t…” You smiled. Soft this time. “Relax, Yunho. I didn’t say I minded.” He made a noise. It wasn’t human. It wasn’t functional. It was just a strangled help from a man on the brink as you stepped closer, close enough to brush his arm, your voice a breath against his ear now.
“You’ve been watching me for three years, Yunho. I figured it was time you got a better view.” And then you walked out. Just like that. Leaving Yunho alone in the break room, clutching his mug like it was a grenade and he wasn’t sure if it had gone off yet.
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By 5:47 p.m., Yunho was convinced the day had lasted at least sixteen years. He hadn’t spoken a single coherent sentence since the break room. Not one. He’d stared at his computer, typed entire paragraphs of complete gibberish, and nodded through two different meetings without hearing a damn thing. All he could hear was your voice. Those words had rewired him. Permanently. He was broken. Glitched. Ruined.
He had no idea what to do with that kind of boldness. That kind of power. And then, like the universe hadn’t done enough already, Seonghwa walked by, clapping his hands like a very attractive office fairy godmother. “Alright, people, drinks tonight at Burnhouse across the street. First round’s on me.” A few people cheered. Others groaned. Most started packing up. Yunho didn’t move. He never went to these things. He wasn’t that guy. He was the “thanks but I have laundry and a moral fear of barstools” guy. He stared at his screen, willing the conversation to pass over him like it always did.
“Yunho.” His name. From you. He turned slowly, heart thudding in his throat. You were standing next to his desk, jacket already on, hair a little messier than this morning in the best possible way as you smiled, not like you had a secret. Just like you were offering one. “You going?” He blinked. “What?”
“The bar.” You nodded toward the window, toward the glowing sign already blinking to life across the street. “You going?” And Yunho, bless his socially awkward, brain fried soul, said the only thing that came to mind. “Should I?” Your smile widened, eyes glinting. “Depends,” you said, tilting your head. “Do you want to see what else I’m wearing under this skirt?”
Yunho’s soul did not leave his body this time. It plummeted. Straight into the molten center of the earth as you leaned closer, voice a whisper just for him. “Come have a drink with me, Yunho.” He nodded before his brain even caught up, watching you turn and walked away, heels clicking toward the elevators. The doors slid shut with a soft ding as you and Wooyoung stepped inside, the office floor fading behind you in a wash of fluorescent lighting and the lingering hum of corporate exhaustion.
You leaned against the mirrored wall with a sigh, arms crossed, eyes soft in a way they hadn’t been all day. The emotional wreckage of the morning still lingered beneath your skin, but something had shifted. Something lighter had taken root and Wooyoung, being Wooyoung, clocked it immediately. He leaned against the opposite side of the elevator, hands in his pockets, watching you like a cat that had just seen the can opener come out. “So,” he started casually, “you and Yunho.”
You didn’t even flinch. Just rolled your eyes with a smirk. “What about me and Yunho?” He grinned. “You tell me.” You turned to face him fully, eyebrow raised. “Are you seriously doing this right now?”
“Hell yeah, I am. You basically eye fucked him all day. I thought the poor guy was gonna pass out when he saw you bend over. And don’t even get me started on that break room stunt.” You smirked. “I was just messing with him.” Wooyoung scoffed. “Oh sure. That’s why you looked like you were two seconds from crawling across his lap and undoing his tie with your teeth.” You shoved him lightly. “Shut up.”
“I will not.” He stepped closer, voice dropping just a bit. Not teasing anymore, real. “But don’t use him, okay?” That hit you square in the chest. Wooyoung’s voice softened, but the edge remained. “Don’t use him to get over your ex. Yunho’s a good guy. A really good guy. That loser has had a crush on you since the first time you started working here.” You laughed despite yourself. “He’s not a loser.”
“Sure,” Wooyoung said dramatically. “Just a humble nerd who once brought his coffee to work in a Spider Man mug and nearly came in his pants when he found out that Lord of the Rings show got renewed.” You groaned. “Oh my God, I remember that. He fist pumped in the hallway.”
“He bowed to the intern who told him, like Gandalf personally called his house.” You bit your lip, trying to hold back a smile and failing. “It’s not a rebound.” Wooyoung tilted his head. “No?” You met his eyes. Earnest. Quiet. “I like him.” That sobered him instantly as you continued, voice softer now. “I was gonna end things with my ex, I swear. I was already planning it. I… I may or may not have been planning on going after Yunho when I did. But then the asshole decided to cheat before I could.”
Wooyoung’s mouth dropped open. “Oh my god,” he gasped. “You’re totally in love with that nerd.” You shoved him harder. “Shut up.”
“You are!” he howled, spinning in a circle like he was about to throw confetti. “You love his glasses. You wanna climb him like a tree. You wanna take his Spidey mug and make it yours!” You turned to the mirror, face flushed, but smiling. “Maybe.” Wooyoung slung an arm around your shoulders as the elevator dinged open. “Let’s get drinks,” he said. “And then let’s go ruin that man’s entire emotional ecosystem.”
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Yunho sat in his car. Still. Motionless. Engine off. Hands resting on the steering wheel like maybe, just maybe, they could steer him through this moment, too. The neon sign of the bar across the street pulsed faintly through the windshield, Burnhouse. Red and low and a little too loud. He could see movement inside. Shapes. People laughing. A spill of warm light every time the door opened.
He was sweating. God, he was sweating. He hadn’t been to a bar since last quarter’s team outing, which he escaped from in exactly forty three minutes by pretending he had to update a server that didn’t actually exist. And yet here he was. Because you asked. Because you smiled at him. Because you looked him in the eye and said, “Come have a drink with me, Yunho,” and he hadn’t been able to think about anything else since.
He exhaled, slow and shaky, then reached down and tugged at the sleeves of his white button down, rolling them up to the elbows with careful, almost surgical precision. His fingers shook a little. Then, after a moment of debate, he reached behind the seat and pulled off his jacket, folding it neatly and leaving it on the passenger seat. He stared at it like it might try to stop him. He loosened his tie next, not enough to remove it, but enough to feel like he could breathe again. You’ve got this, he told himself. It didn’t help.
Another deep breath and Yunho opened the door, stepped out into the night air, and crossed the street like a man walking into a dream he wasn’t sure he deserved. The bar was warm. Louder than he liked. Music pulsed low under the buzz of conversation and clinking glasses. There were booths and stools and lights strung across the ceiling like a half hearted attempt at ambiance. He hovered just inside the doorway. Eyes scanning. Looking for you.
And then, he saw you. Backlit by the soft glow of the bar lights, drink in hand, head tilted back as you laughed at something Wooyoung was saying. You looked radiant. Alive. And then you saw him. And that smile? That smile wasn’t for anyone else. It was for him. And in that moment, Yunho didn’t feel like the awkward office nerd or the guy who brought SpiderMan mugs to meetings. He just felt like the one you were waiting for.
His palms were damp. He wiped them on his slacks as subtly as possible while navigating through the packed bar, eyes locked on you. You were perched on a stool at the far end of the bar, legs crossed just enough to make his brain short circuit again. Your drink sat idle in your hand, condensation sliding down the glass, untouched since you’d caught sight of him.
Wooyoung leaned beside you, elbow on the bar, smirking like he owned the place, but Yunho only registered him in pieces. Background noise. You, though? You were… magnetic. Your eyes followed him as he approached. Curious. Warm. Just the hint of a smirk playing at your lips like you knew exactly what seeing you like this was doing to him. He passed a group of coworkers near the booth and vaguely heard someone say “Whoa, Yunho came out?” but it didn’t land. Not when you were watching him like that.
He reached you after what felt like a century. “Hey,” he said, voice slightly rough. You turned fully toward him, drink still in hand, legs brushing against his lightly as you shifted on the stool. “Hey, stranger,” you said, and Yunho almost combusted on the spot as Wooyoung sipped his beer. “Well, well. Look who grew a spine.” Yunho blinked. “I…. I just came for a drink.”
“You came for her,” Wooyoung corrected, then took another sip. “And I love that for you.” Yunho didn’t deny it as he swallowed hard, shifting on his feet. “Do you… mind if I join?” You patted the empty stool beside you. “It’s yours.” He sat, legs stiff, shoulders tense, until he felt the brush of your knee against his. You didn’t move away. Neither did he. The bartender came over before he could process what that meant. “What can I get you?”
Yunho blinked. “Uh…. beer. Whatever’s… good.” Wooyoung snorted into his glass as you leaned toward him just enough for Yunho to catch your scent, something sweet and warm and too distracting to name. “Is this your first bar beer ever?” He coughed. “I’ve had… beer before.”
“Mmm.” You tilted your head. “Was it in a bottle shaped like Iron Man’s helmet?” Wooyoung choked. Yunho flushed bright red. “Okay… first of all…”
“Don’t worry,” you said softly, leaning in just enough to brush your arm against his. “I like that about you.” He turned to you, stunned. But you were already sipping your drink, eyes still fixed on him, like you’d just dropped a match and were watching him burn. And oh, how he was burning as you looked at him with a glint in your eye that made his heart instantly drop back into fight or flight mode. “Wanna play pool?”
He blinked, nearly missing the way your lips wrapped around the straw of your drink. “P… Pool?” he repeated, like it was a word he’d never heard before in his life. You nodded toward the back corner, where the bar’s single pool table sat glowing beneath a buzzing overhead light. “You know,” you said casually. “Billiards. With the balls. And the stick. That you hold.” Wooyoung cackled into his drink as Yunho rubbed the back of his neck, already sweating. “I’m… not good at pool.”
You leaned in, voice dropping just slightly. “That’s okay. I’m great at it. You can just watch me bend over a lot.” Yunho choked on air as you grinned. “I’ll be back.” And with that, you slid off your stool, drink still in hand, and made your way toward the table, hips swaying like you knew he was watching. Because he was. Oh god, he was. Wooyoung whistled low, swirling the last of his beer. “You should’ve gone with her.”
Yunho exhaled slowly. “I don’t know how to play.” Wooyoung snorted. “You think she cares about pool right now?” Yunho followed you with his gaze and felt his jaw clench. Some guy, tall, a little shorter than Yunho, plaid shirt, probably named Chad, had wandered over and was now leaning casually against the pool table. He said something to you. You smiled politely. He gestured to the cue stick in your hand. Asked if he could join.
You nodded, keeping it light. And Yunho? Yunho clenched his jaw so hard it clicked as Wooyoung leaned back, grinning like the devil himself. “Ah, there it is. The Jealousy Jaw Clench. I knew it would show up eventually.” Yunho forced himself to look away. Sipped his beer. Didn’t taste it. He looked back again a second later. The guy was still there. Still talking. You were laughing at something, though Yunho could tell by the angle of your body, the way you didn’t lean in, that it was the polite kind of laugh. The kind you gave out of obligation.
But that didn’t matter. Not to Yunho. He wasn’t used to this feeling. This hot, tightening pressure in his chest. It wasn’t anger, exactly. It was something lower. Darker. Sharper. Possessive. And it was terrifying. Wooyoung drummed his fingers on the bar. “You gonna sit there and stew in it all night, or are you gonna go remind her who’s had her undivided attention for the last three years?” Yunho didn’t answer. Didn’t need to. Because his grip on the beer bottle was white knuckled now. And something inside him was shifting. Fast.
“Hey!” Wooyoung flagged down the bartender with a practiced flick of his fingers, grinning like a man who knew exactly what he was doing. “Three shots. The fun kind.” Yunho was still glued to the spot, eyes flicking between his bottle and you, still at the pool table, still mid conversation with Plaid Shirt McDesperate as Wooyoung slid the first shot glass toward him. Yunho stared at it. Then took it. Then the next one. Downed both in less than ten seconds.
Wooyoung blinked. “Oh?” Yunho exhaled through his nose like a dragon, jaw flexing, eyes fixed on one thing across the bar. You. Then, without a word, he stood, rolled his shoulders, adjusted his sleeves. And walked. Wooyoung smirked as he raised his own shot in salute. “And there he goes.”
Yunho barely heard the music anymore. Barely noticed the people. All he saw was you, hip against the edge of the pool table, cue stick in hand, lips parted in polite fake, laughter at whatever bullshit the guy beside you was spewing. The guy had leaned in closer now, one hand resting too easily on the rail beside your thigh. Yunho’s blood turned molten. He reached the table in six long strides.
You looked up and he saw it. That flicker of surprise. Of curiosity. Of something else. He didn’t even look at the guy. Not yet. Just at you. “Still want to play?” he asked, voice deeper than he meant it to be, words smoother than they ever had a right to be. The alcohol had torched every nerve in his system and replaced them with intent. You blinked, caught off guard. “What?” Yunho’s gaze didn’t waver. “Pool. You asked me earlier. I’m in.”
Your brows lifted just slightly, a smile tugging at the edge of your mouth like you couldn’t decide if you wanted to tease him or kiss him. “Oh,” you said, setting the cue stick down lightly. “Now you want to play.” He stepped closer. Not invasive, but present. There. Unignorable. Voice much deeper than you ever heard him speak before. “Changed my mind.”
The guy beside you cleared his throat. “Hey man, we’re in the middle of a game.” Yunho turned to him for the first time. Slowly. His face remained calm. Polite, even. But his eyes? His eyes were warning signs wrapped in brown velvet. “She asked me first,” Yunho said simply. “And she didn’t seem like she wanted your company.” The guy blinked. Opened his mouth. Then thought better of it. He walked off without another word as you stared up at Yunho, visibly stunned. Still gripping the cue stick between your fingers like you’d forgotten how to hold it.
Yunho didn’t look away. Didn’t fidget. Didn’t retreat. Just stepped up to the table and picked up the chalk, casually prepping a cue like he’d been born in bars instead of behind a monitor. “Well?” he arched a brow, looking at you over the edge of his glasses. “You playing, or are you scared I’ll win?” You laughed. Low. Warm. Wrecked. “Oh no,” you said, stepping into place beside him. “You’re the one in trouble now.”
Yunho lined up his shot like he hadn’t just burned down the last three years of passive pining with two shots of tequila and a lie. The cue slid through his fingers, smooth and practiced, and the click of the break echoed across the table like a shot fired. Balls scattered across the green velvet like they knew exactly who they were dealing with. Two dropped immediately into corner pockets.
He didn’t say anything. Just stepped back with slow confidence, sipping from the beer Wooyoung just walked over and handed him like this wasn’t the most unhinged, out of character moment of his entire life. You turned, squinting at the table, then at him. “I thought you said you couldn’t play.” He looked at you over the rim of his beer bottle and shrugged. “I lied.”
You laughed, really laughed, and Yunho felt it in his ribs. Like something cracked open and warm inside him. The corner of your mouth pulled up, eyes lit with something dangerous, something delighted, like you were seeing him for the first time in a whole new light, and liking what you found. “That was hot,” you muttered, mostly to yourself, but not low enough for him to miss. His smirk curled before he could stop it.
Wooyoung appeared beside him again, holding your drink out like a bartender slash agent of chaos. “Here you go, pool sharks.” He gave Yunho a smug look, the look of a man who knew he’d just witnessed the full sexual awakening of a previously sheltered office worker, then turned on his heel. “I’m gonna go flirt with San from marketing before someone else notices how flexible he is,” he announced, already disappearing into the crowd like the slutty bar fairy he was born to be.
Yunho watched him go, chuckling softly into his drink before turning back to you. You were chalking your cue now. Watching him with eyes that said a lot, none of which you were quite ready to speak aloud yet. He leaned a little closer, lowering his voice just enough to make you look up. “So…. still think you can beat me?” You stared at him for a second. Then slowly, purposefully, leaned across the table to line up your next shot, skirt sliding higher with every inch.
“No,” you said without looking at him. “I think I want to see what else you’ve been lying about.” Yunho downed the rest of his beer in one long swallow. Because holy shit. Yunho lined up his next shot with the calm ease of a man who had, just barely, gotten control of his body back. You were watching him again, lips around the straw of your drink, gaze entirely not on the game. And he could feel it, like a laser beam grazing every inch of his neck, collar, wrists.
He leaned in, aimed, and sunk another shot with a quiet thunk that made him internally smirk. That’s when you moved. Before he could fully straighten, before he could step back or reset, you slid in front of him. Deliberate. Measured. Deadly. You didn’t speak. Didn’t even look at him. Just moved past him to line up your next shot like it was your turn and this was no big deal and Yunho froze. Because your ass brushed right up against his thighs, lightly, barely, but enough. Enough to send another firework straight to his spine. Enough that he had to grip the edge of the table to stay grounded.
You bent slightly, cue in hand, pretending to focus on your shot as Yunho blinked. Then blinked again. Then stared down at the exact placement of your body against his. Your skirt, short. Your thighs, bare. Your ass, pressing right into the front of his slacks like you were inviting him to lose every ounce of composure he’d worked so hard to fake all night and took your shot. Missed it. Because of course you did. You weren’t aiming for the ball. You were aiming for him. Still bent over, you finally glanced back over your shoulder. “Oh no,” you pouted, voice syrupy sweet. “Guess I need to work on my angle.”
Yunho’s jaw clenched. His hand flexed on the table. He wasn’t smiling anymore. Not out of discomfort, but restraint. Carefully, slowly, he stepped forward until there was zero space between the two of you. His front against your back. His voice low and rough right by your ear. “You keep doing that,” he murmured, “and I’m going to stop holding myself back.” You shivered but didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just looked back at him again with eyes full of challenge and heat and want. And Yunho smiled. Dark. Controlled. Dangerous. Because finally, he wasn’t the only one losing his mind.
Yunho still hadn’t moved. You were in front of him, pressed to his chest like a challenge in human form, breath warm, skirt tempting fate and your voice, that teasing little lilt of, “Guess I need to work on my angle,” was still echoing in his skull as he leaned in, close enough to feel the edge of your shoulder graze his chest. His hands hovered, wanting to guide you, hold you, pull you closer. He was just about to move, about to murmur something low and stupid and sinful in your ear…
“The fuck, Y/N?”
Yunho didn’t even have time to fully process it before someone shoved him. Hard. He stumbled back two steps, more from shock than force, catching himself on the table edge as you gasped, spinning around, already pulling the cue stick close like a shield. “What the hell…” And there he was. The ex. The cheating asshole. Tan bomber jacket. Smug, flushed face. Storming toward you like he hadn’t gotten caught with someone else on your couch less than 24 hours ago.
Yunho’s heart pounded, first with confusion, then with something a lot more dangerous. No. Not now. Not him. The guy pointed at Yunho without even looking at him. “You’re seriously fucking this idiot now? All because of a little fight? That’s what this is?” You stepped between them before Yunho could say a word. Your voice was steel. Cold. Controlled. “You fucking that girl in my apartment was not a little fight.” Yunho went still. The bar around you got quieter. Not silent, but the kind of quiet where people start pretending not to look even though every eye is absolutely on the drama.
“And besides,” you added, gaze burning, “I’ve been planning on dumping you for weeks. You just did me a favor by making it so much easier.” Yunho’s jaw tightened as your ex sneered, stepping closer. “So what, you ran to this loser the second I was gone?” Yunho moved before he even realized it. Not shoving. Not yelling. Just stepping up, slow and quiet, placing himself back at your side, just behind you. One hand resting lightly on your waist. A statement. A line drawn in the sand. He didn’t speak. Didn’t need to. Because the guy looked at Yunho, saw the calm, the restraint, the way his fingers flexed just slightly against your hip, and he hesitated. “You really left me for him?”
You could hear Yunho breathe behind you, slow, controlled. But his fingers twitched against your hip, and that was the only warning. Because when Yunho stepped forward, his voice was low, not loud, not angry. Just… surgical. “I didn’t take her from you.” That made your ex scoff. “Oh please….” Yunho didn’t flinch. “She was already gone. You just didn’t notice. Probably too busy with the girl you fucked on her couch.”
Your ex’s mouth snapped shut. The bar had gone quiet again. The people closest were definitely listening now as Yunho took another step forward, so calm it made your ex step back. “You think it’s about me? About who she’s with now?” He smiled but it wasn’t nice. It was devastating. “It’s about who she is without you.” You felt something bloom in your chest, hot, sharp, righteous as Yunho’s eyes didn’t leave your ex’s for a second. “And let me guess, you’re mad because she’s finally with someone who sees her. Someone who doesn’t waste her time. Doesn’t treat her like a backup plan or a punching bag for his insecurity.”
“Watch your mouth…” your ex started, voice cracking. But Yunho didn’t stop. Didn’t need to raise his voice. “She’s not yours anymore,” he said, final and clean. “And honestly? You never deserved her in the first place.” You weren’t breathing. Neither was anyone else. Your ex stared at him, jaw working, hands clenched, and then, like the coward he was, he turned and stormed off, shoving past a group of stunned coworkers on his way out the door. The moment stretched. Stillness. Then murmurs. And then Yunho finally turned to you, eyes softening, jaw still tight. “Are you okay?”
You stared at him, heart pounding. Then you laughed, a little breathless, a little stunned. “I will be,” you said, stepping closer, eyes locked on his. “But that might’ve been the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.” His ears turned red. But the way his hand tightened on your waist? That was nothing but control. And for once, you weren’t the one teasing. You were the one undone.
Yunho didn’t remember walking out of the bar. Not really. He remembered your fingers curling around his. The way you tugged at his hand, biting your lip like you were holding in something reckless. The sound of your heels clicking against the sidewalk as you dragged him behind you, weaving through the crowd like a woman on a mission. The night had cooled. Neon buzzed around them. Car horns in the distance. City lights flashing over your bare legs as you led him faster, closer, toward his car.
You didn’t look back until you reached it. And even then, you didn’t let go. “Tell me something, Yunho,” your voice quiet but edged in something sharp. “Why did you never make a move?” He opened his mouth, heart already in his throat but you turned toward him, hand still in his, brows lifted. “And don’t blame my ex.” Yunho stopped. Dead still. Right there in front of the Chevelle, headlights glowing faint from the lamplight. The city moved around you both like a river, but in that moment, Yunho couldn’t hear any of it. Just you. Just this.
He looked down at your fingers still curled in his, then up into your face, curious, beautiful, daring him to stop holding back. He stepped in. Fast. Deliberate, one hand found your waist, the other braced flat beside your head against the car door, his body caging yours in with the ease of someone who’d wanted to do this for years. “I didn’t make a move,” his voice was low, jaw tight, “because I was terrified I’d ruin everything. I wanted you the day you got hired. Day one. Red lipstick. Tight black dress. You asked me where the copier was and then laughed at my answer. And I was done.” His chest rose and fell, the words spilling now, finally unchained. “I memorized your coffee order by accident. I timed my break schedule to match yours. I’ve gone home more nights than I can count thinking about what it would feel like to have you look at me the way you looked at him and now I know…”
He swallowed, eyes burning into yours. “He never deserved you. But I’ve always wanted to try.” Your lips parted. You didn’t speak. Didn’t have to. Because he was already there, kissing you. Hard. Hungry. His body pressed into yours, hands gripping your waist like he’d die if he didn’t hold you close enough. Your fingers tangled in his shirt, pulling him in, chasing his mouth like you’d been waiting just as long. There were people on the sidewalk. Strangers passing by. Bystanders who definitely saw. But Yunho didn’t care. Let them watch. Let the whole city see.
Yunho’s world narrowed to the feel of your lips against his. Warm. Hungry. Unapologetic. His hand was still gripping your waist like a lifeline, the other braced beside your head, pinning you against the car as if letting go would send the whole night shattering around him. When the kiss finally broke, your lips swollen, his breathing uneven, it wasn’t silence that followed. It was you. Breathless. Eyes dark. Voice low. “Take me home.”
Yunho blinked. Once. Twice. Heart pounding. “I….. um… yeah,” he said, throat dry, already fumbling for his keys. “Of course, I can take you…” But you cut him off with another kiss, deeper this time. Dirtier. Your fingers curling into the collar of his shirt as you tilted your head and bit his bottom lip, tugging just enough to make him groan into your mouth, pulling back slowly. Deliberately as his breath caught.
You reached up like it was nothing, cool, calm, utterly evil, and adjusted his glasses where they’d slipped crooked on his nose. “To your place,” you said, smirking, smoothing your thumb over the collar of his shirt. Yunho short circuited. Visibly as he opened his mouth like he was going to say something reasonable but no sound came out. Just a sharp exhale through his nose as his jaw locked and he nodded once, fast.
He moved before he could second guess it, unlocking the passenger door and guiding you in with a hand at your lower back, like some gentleman programmed outlaw. Then he got in, gripping the wheel like a man trying very hard not to drive through red lights just to get you home faster, pulse thudding in his ears, lips tingling.
He tried to stay calm the drive to his apartment but, it proved difficult. Yunho’s hands hadn’t stopped shaking since the stoplight before his building. Not that he’d admit it. You hadn’t touched him since you got in the car, no thigh teasing, no biting, no smirking commands, and somehow, that made it worse. You just sat there, calm and quiet, eyes focused out the window like you hadn’t just kissed him like he was the last man on earth and then demanded he take you home.
To his home. To his apartment. Where there was a laundry basket half sorted and at least one action figure still on top of his bookshelf and where….. He unlocked the door and froze. Shit. He stepped inside and immediately did what any self respecting, emotionally fried man would… Panic clean. He tossed his keys in the bowl, stepped out of his shoes, and tried to casually walk toward the couch like his floor wasn’t a crime scene.
“Sorry,” he muttered, avoiding your eyes as he bent to grab a hoodie off the armrest. “I didn’t think I’d be… uh. Hosting anyone tonight.” You stepped in behind him, quiet. Watching. He heard the click of the door as it shut behind you, turning quickly as he spotted his PS5 controller on the coffee table and grabbed it like it might betray him. Then, with all the grace of a man spiraling into cute boy hell, he kicked a pair of rolled up SpiderMan socks under the couch and pretended it didn’t happen.
You didn’t say anything. Which was worse. He cleared his throat. “Do you want water? Or tea? Or like… I have ginger ale? I know it’s weird but I keep it around just in case I…”
“Yunho.”
Your voice was soft and he turned, looking at you leaning back against the closed door like a damn movie poster. Your heels off, bare legs still barely covered by that skirt, lips curved in a smile that said I see everything… and I still want you anyway. His mouth went dry as you stepped closer, slowly. Measured. Gaze flicking down to the PS5 controller still in his hand. “You game when you’re nervous?” you teased gently. He glanced at it like he’d never seen it before. “I…. I don’t know. I just…. my hands needed something….”
“You’re adorable.”
He nearly dropped it as you stepped close enough to brush your fingers over the controller, then his wrist, then higher up the sleeve of his button down, over the strong line of his forearm, and finally to the back of his neck. Yunho stilled as you leaned in, voice low, eyes searching his. “Still nervous?” He swallowed hard. Then nodded. Just once. Because yeah, he was nervous. But not in the way he’d been before. Not from fear. From need. From knowing exactly what was about to happen and still not believing he was allowed to have it.
You didn’t say anything else. Not right away. You just stood there, one hand curled gently at the back of Yunho’s neck, the other tracing the seam of his rolled sleeve. His pulse thrummed beneath your fingertips like a drum too big for its cage. He looked at you, eyes soft, hopeful, wrecked, and that was it. You leaned in and kissed him again. Gentle. Slow. Like you had all the time in the world. Like you were savoring something you never wanted to end.
Yunho’s breath caught in his throat as your lips moved with his, slow and searching, the pressure just enough to make his chest ache. Your hands moved up, brushing through his hair, fingertips trailing behind his ear as his arms finally came around your waist, pulling you in close. He felt you smile against his mouth. And that smile destroyed him. He kissed you deeper, more sure now, less afraid. His hands splayed against your back, fingertips digging in like he still didn’t believe you were real but needed you closer anyway.
You pulled back just an inch, lips swollen. Eyes warm. And then you shoved him. Gently, but with enough force to send him stumbling backward onto the couch he’d just frantically cleaned, his PS5 controller now launching itself off the cushion and clattering to the floor in protest. Yunho blinked, wide eyed, breathless, and completely stunned as you stood over him. Skirt still too short. Hair slightly mussed. Barefoot. Beautiful. Deadly as you climbed into his lap like you’d done it a thousand times, straddling him, knees sinking into the cushion on either side of his hips.
Yunho stopped breathing as you rested your hands on his chest, fingers curling in the fabric of his white button down. “I don’t care about the socks.” He swallowed hard. “I don’t care about the controller,” you added, smirking as you felt his heart racing under your palms. “Then what do you care about?” he rasped, voice raw as you leaned in, mouth brushing his ear. “You.” Then your lips were on his again, nothing soft this time. It was hungry. Desperate. Relief and want and all the years of pretending you hadn’t noticed the way he looked at you like you were something celestial and untouchable.
His hands flew to your hips, anchoring you down, holding you in place as you rocked slowly against him, mouth open and wet and messy with yours. He moaned into your mouth, soft and needy, as your fingers found his glasses, sliding them off gently and setting them somewhere behind you before you grabbed his face in both hands and kissed him stupid. Three years of want. Of waiting. Of watching. And now? Now he was underneath you. Exactly where he’d always wanted to be. Your mouth was everywhere. Against his, down his jaw, along his neck. Hot and messy and hungry like you’d been starving for this just as long as he had. His hands were roaming, greedy and reverent all at once. Every time you shifted in his lap, it stole the breath from his lungs.
You ground down on him. Hard. Slow. A teasing little roll of your hips that sent a growl deep into his throat, low and guttural and completely not something he knew he was capable of making as he slid his hands up your thighs, fingertips gliding over soft, bare skin. And then he felt it. That black lace. That thong. The one he’d caught a glimpse of at the office and hadn’t stopped thinking about since. It had haunted him. Tortured him. And now it was under his palms, real, tangible, damp. His hips bucked before he could stop himself, and he buried his face in your neck with a curse. “Fuck.”
You giggled like you knew exactly what you were doing. And god, you did. “You wore this to tease me?” he asked, voice muffled against your skin. You didn’t answer. Didn’t need to. You just rocked your hips again, slow and devastating. Yunho growled, actually growled this time, hands flying back to your skirt. He shoved it higher, gathering the fabric in his fists until it was bunched around your waist, exposing everything he wanted. You moaned loudly when the air hit your thighs, but the real sound came after. When he brought his hand down hard against the curve of your ass.
You gasped, your whole body jolting above him. Head falling forward against his as you whined, high and wrecked. Yunho’s eyes nearly rolled back. “You like that?” he asked, panting and you nodded into his shoulder. “Do it again.” He did. Harder. Your breath hitched, and you rolled your hips in reward, your arousal smearing over the bulge in his slacks. He groaned so deep it vibrated in his chest.
Yunho was panting. Visibly. Flushed and wild eyed, lips swollen from kissing, glasses somewhere behind the couch and long forgotten. His white button down was wrinkled and pushed halfway out of his pants from the way your hips had been rolling against him. His thighs were spread wide now, legs braced against the edge of the couch, like he needed the entire foundation of his apartment to keep himself grounded. And still, you pulled away, sliding down his lap slowly, deliberately, your hands trailing down his chest as you went. You settled between his knees with a smirk, eyes never leaving his, and Yunho’s breath caught, hard, when your palms moved to his belt buckle. “Y/N….” he started, voice cracking.
You didn’t stop. Didn’t look like stopping either. With calm fingers, you undid his belt and popped the button of his slacks, slowly pulling down the zipper like you were unwrapping a secret. Like you were savoring a gift you’d waited three goddamn years to open. Yunho leaned back slightly, gripping the armrest behind him, chest heaving as you tugged both pants and underwear down in one steady motion. And then you froze. Your hands stilled. Your mouth parted. Eyes wide. “Holy shit.” Yunho blinked down at you, panic instantly rising. “What? Is it… too much? I… I can stop. We don’t have to…” But you weren’t looking at him anymore. You were looking at it. Thick. Long. Resting heavy against his thigh and already glistening at the tip from the hours of tension he’d been holding in all day. His size matched the rest of him, long limbs, big hands, but seeing it, hard and flushed and real, made your brain stutter.
You knew it was going to be good. But this? This was filthy. You swallowed hard as you leaned in, nose brushing his inner thigh, lips grazing the base of his dick, and Yunho nearly levitated off the couch. “You okay?” you murmured, glancing up through your lashes, a wicked little grin playing at your mouth. Yunho’s head fell back against the cushion, throat bobbing as he nodded once, jaw clenched. “Barely.” You hummed with a smirk on your lips. “Good.” And then your lips wrapped around his tip. Your mouth was hot. Wet. Perfect. Yunho’s thighs trembled under your palms as your lips slid down the length of him, tongue dragging with every inch you took, cheeks hollowing as you sucked gently, eyes fluttering up just in time to see him absolutely wrecked.
His hands weren’t touching you, yet. They were fisted into the cushion at his sides, white knuckled, trying so goddamn hard not to move. His jaw was clenched tight, eyes dark behind the veil of his lashes, a bead of sweat trickling down his neck. He was barely breathing. It was kind of adorable. Until it wasn’t. You pulled off with a loud, wet pop, licking your lips, hand slowly stroking him while you caught your breath. Then you tilted your head and smirked. “You just gonna clench your jaw,” you asked, voice dangerously sweet, “or are you gonna fuck my mouth?”
Yunho’s breath hitched as your fingers squeezed at the base. “I mean,” you added, lazily flicking your tongue over the tip, “it’s been three years, right? You’ve gotta have a little more in you than…” Your sentence cut off the moment his hand buried itself in your hair. He pulled, firm, unforgiving, not enough to hurt but just enough to make you gasp and suddenly, Yunho wasn’t the trembling nerd on the couch anymore. He was standing over you now, legs spread, both hands in your hair as he tilted your head back, eyes dark and blown, mouth parted, chest rising and falling like he’d finally stopped holding himself back.
“You want that?” he asked, voice rough, commanding. You didn’t get a chance to answer. Because Yunho was already pushing you down onto him, slow at first, his grip steady as he fed himself into your mouth again, lips parting around him instinctively. “You really shouldn’t have said that…” he muttered through gritted teeth, watching as your lips stretched around him. You moaned, throat fluttering making him grunt. “Fucking hell.” Then he started thrusting, slow, deliberate movements of his hips, the weight of him pressing deeper each time, your hands flying to his thighs to brace yourself.
Yunho’s voice was a growl now, filthy and low, every word punctuated with a roll of his hips. “This what you wanted?” Thrust. “Get on your knees and act like a brat…” Thrust. “Bet you’ve been dreaming about this, haven’t you?” Thrust.You whined around him, tears prickling your eyes as he picked up speed, dick driving deeper, thick and pulsing, hitting the back of your throat until you choked and he moaned. “God, you look so good like this,” he groaned, hand fisting tighter. “Fucking perfect. Taking me like a good girl.” You were a mess. Saliva dripping down your chin, mascara smudged, eyes glassy, throat full.
You didn’t even get the chance to breathe. One moment, your lips were still slick from having him in your mouth, your cheeks flushed, your thighs squeezed together in desperate tension, and the next? Yunho’s grip tightened, and he yanked you up. “Come here,” he muttered, voice hoarse, guiding you up onto shaky legs before pulling you in for a bruising kiss. His hands were everywhere, ripping your shirt open with a frustrated groan, buttons clattering to the floor as he kissed you breathless. You barely managed a gasp before your bra was gone too, tugged down your arms and tossed somewhere across the living room. “Yunho!”
“Shh.” His lips found your collarbone, then lower. “Let me see you.” He stepped back and looked, really looked, eyes drinking in the sight of you, nearly naked except for that thin strip of black lace still clinging to your hips. His hands slid down your sides. “Fucking beautiful.” You reached for his shirt, tugging it open just enough to loosen the tie at his neck. He left it on. And somehow… that made it worse. Better. Worse for your self control, better for every filthy fantasy you’d ever had involving Yunho and a conference room printer. He kissed your breast, slowly, tongue circling your nipple until it peaked, lips dragging across your skin as he kissed his way down, all the way to your belly, hands roaming your thighs as he dropped lower, and lower until he knelt on his living room rug.
Still in his white shirt and black tie. Head tilted up like a man ready to worship. And then his fingers found the waistband of your thong, hooked into it and pulled. The fabric slid taut against your aching clit and you nearly fell into him from the jolt of it, your knees wobbling, a gasp escaping your lips. “Sensitive?” he asked, voice dark and far too amused as you looked down at him, lips parted, breath short. “Please.” He hummed low in his throat and tugged the thong tighter, watching the way your thighs shook.
“Three years,” he muttered. “Three years thinking about this. Imagining what you’d sound like if I did this,” He tugged again, slow and firm, the lace biting right where you needed him most and your breath hitched. “Yunho…” He leaned in, tongue flicking out to trace the line of your underwear. Then he kissed you through it, mouth hot over the soaked fabric, letting it rub against you as he groaned. “You’re so fucking wet already,” he said, eyes locking with yours, pupils blown. You whimpered and he grinned. And then he bit, a tiny graze of his teeth through the fabric before finally slipping one thick finger beneath the waistband and pulling it aside.
You cried out as Yunho’s fingers slid beneath the thin black thong, curling around the damp lace before he slowly, so fucking slowly, pulled it down your legs. He kept his eyes on you the whole time, watching the way your chest rose and fell, how your thighs twitched when the cool air met soaked skin. When the fabric reached your ankles, he tossed it, lightly, over his shoulder, the thong landing on the arm of the couch behind him like a trophy. Then he leaned in. No teasing. No warning. Just Yunho’s mouth on you, open and hungry. You gasped, fingers flying to his hair as his tongue dragged through your folds, slow at first, savoring, tasting, before he groaned into you, the sound vibrating straight through your core.
His lips sealed around your clit, tongue lapping, then flicking, then sucking until your knees buckled and your hand slapped against the wall behind you for balance. But Yunho wasn’t done. Not even close. He gripped your hip with one hand, tight, fingers digging in to keep you from running and the other? That arm slid up the line of your body, up past your stomach, past your ribs. His long fingers stretched across your chest, brushing the underside of your breast before settling just beneath your throat, two fingers splayed wide, palm flat against your collarbone.
You gripped his wrist like a lifeline as his tongue dipped inside you, slow at first, then deeper, faster, licking into your soaked heat with sinful rhythm, fucking you with his mouth like he’d been born to do it. Your hips rolled against him instinctively, chasing the pressure, the pleasure, the desperation as his mouth and tongue worked in perfect sync, dragging you closer to the edge with every messy, soaking stroke. Yunho…. oh my God!” You could barely speak. Your legs were shaking. Your hands clenched around his wrist like you might fall apart without something to hold onto.
But Yunho didn’t care. He growled into you, his mouth relentless, his tongue pressing inside again and again, his lips slick, chin wet, grip bruising on your hip as he devoured you. He looked up once, just once, and the sight of his lips glistening with you, those dark eyes locked on yours while his fingers flexed just under your throat? It was over. Your body arched, pleasure tearing through you like fire, your thighs clenching around his head as you came, loud, messy, completely undone. Yunho held you there, through every wave, licking you until you couldn’t take it, until your hips jerked and your breath stuttered and you whimpered his name like a prayer.
Only then did he pull back, lips flushed, chin soaked, panting as he rested his forehead against your thigh but Yunho didn’t give you much time to recover. One second, his mouth was still brushing the inside of your thigh, lips trailing back up your skin with slow, reverent kisses that made your pulse race again, and the next? He was standing. Sweeping you off your feet with ease, both arms locked beneath your thighs and back, holding you against his chest, your skin pressed to his white shirt, his undone tie brushing your stomach. You looped your arms around his neck, burying your face there for a second, because how was this man real?
How could someone make you come so hard in one breath and then carry you like the world’s sweetest anime boyfriend in the next? But then you caught sight of it. His room. It was… adorable. The light was soft, warm glow from a vintage desk lamp. The walls were lined with shelves of figures and books. And right there, on his neatly made bed, a plush Avengers throw blanket was draped over the foot like a badge of honor. But it was the corner setup that got you. A full Valorant themed gaming PC, glowing in electric blue and purple. Monitors. Headphones. A mousepad with tiny chibi agents. You couldn’t help it. You giggled.
Yunho froze mid step. Your grin widened as you looked up at him, eyes sparkling. “You have a Valorant shrine in your bedroom.” He gave you a look, cheeks pink. “It’s not a shrine.” You giggled at him. “And an Avengers blanket. You’re such a…” He stopped your teasing, voice low. “A nerd?” he asked, eyebrow raised, backing you into the bed slowly. “You knew I was a nerd.” Your lips brushed his as you smirked, teasing. “And I still let you put your mouth on me, what does that say about me?”
He set you down on the edge of the bed, pushing your hair behind your ear. “That you’re mine now,” he whispered. And your breath caught. And then he kissed you again. Deeper this time. Hungrier. His hands found your waist, thumbs dragging up the curve of your ribs, mouth claiming yours like he was done pretending. There was nothing nervous about him now. Nothing timid. Only a man who had you in his bed, naked and smiling and no intention of letting you leave without knowing exactly what it meant to be wanted.
You sat at the edge of the bed, lips kiss swollen, chest rising and falling with every thrum of anticipation still pulsing through you. Yunho stood in front of you, hair a mess from your fingers, flushed cheeks still kissed with the afterglow of what he’d just done to you. His shirt hung open, wrinkled and loose across his chest, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows from earlier as he reached for the knot at his neck. The black tie. The one that had been dangling down his torso as he licked you into oblivion. His fingers curled around the silk, tugging loose… “Don’t.” His hands froze mid pull as your voice stopped him, breathless, softer than you expected but so sure. You lifted your gaze to his, watching the way his brows lifted just slightly in confusion.
“Leave it on,” you whispered and the air in the room changed. Yunho stared at you. Silent. And then his fingers dropped from the knot. He didn’t speak. He didn’t smirk. He just watched you. Like that tie had just bound him to something invisible, some shared understanding between the two of you that the moment he stepped closer, it would all unravel. And he’d never come back the same. You leaned back on your palms slowly, letting your knees part just slightly, the edge of his blanket brushing your thighs as you smirked, voice low. “Three years,” you murmured. “And you’re really gonna act shy now?”
Yunho blinked once. Just once. Then he reached for his shirt. Shrugged it off. And kept the tie on. It dangled over his bare chest, the only thing still clinging to that office persona of his, but his eyes? His eyes were full of something far darker now. Hunger. Want. Years of pent up tension crashing all at once into heat and control and need.”You better be sure,” he said, stepping closer between your knees. “Because once I get in that bed…” He leaned down, tie brushing against your skin, voice a growl at your lips. “I’m not holding back anymore.”
You reached for his tie, still dangling perfectly against his chest and tugged. Hard. Yunho stumbled forward, caught off guard, and you used that moment of surprise to push. He landed on the mattress with a soft grunt, his eyes going wide just before you climbed over him, straddling his lap with purpose. He looked wrecked already. Shirt gone, tie on, pupils blown so wide there was barely any brown left. His chest was rising fast, breath uneven as he looked up at you like you were his wildest fantasy come to life. You leaned in, mouth brushing his, your hands planting on either side of his head, and whispered like a secret, “I’m on the pill.” You kissed him, soft and slow, teasing. “Which means I want you to fill me full.”
His entire body tensed. A low groan clawed from his throat, his hands flying to your hips, but he didn’t grip yet. Didn’t thrust. Didn’t snap like you knew he wanted to. He just stared up at you, tie still crooked, his voice hoarse with restraint. “Is this just a rebound?” Your gaze softened. Just a bit as you shook your head. “Never.” Then you reached down, guided him to your entrance, and sank down. Yunho’s head hit the pillow with a thud. Your breath caught instantly, lips parting in a silent moan as the stretch burned in the best way. You gripped his chest for balance, feeling your thighs tremble as you lowered yourself inch by inch until he was fully inside, buried to the hilt.
“Fuck,” you gasped, back arching. “Yunho… you’re so big…” He looked destroyed. His hands were white knuckled where they gripped the sheets, jaw clenched so hard you could see the tension twitching in his neck. His tie draped down between your bodies, a sinful little reminder of who he was hours ago, awkward, shy, avoiding eye contact at the copier. Now he was inside you. Filling you so deep it felt like he was touching something no one else ever had. And he hadn’t even moved yet.
You started to move for you both. Slow at first, your body adjusting to the impossible stretch of him, the way he filled you, aching, perfect, deep. Yunho groaned low under you, head falling back against the pillow again as your hips began to roll. Then bounce. Your hand slid up his chest, fingers brushing the base of his throat, teasing. Yunho’s eyes flew open, locking on yours like a challenge. So you tightened your grip. Not hard. Not choking. Just there. Your palm flat against his throat, your body moving steadily on top of him, your thighs beginning to tremble as your rhythm picked up, slick, wet sounds echoing through the room with every bounce of your hips.
“Oh my god,” he gasped, hands gripping your waist, fingers digging in. “Fuck…. look at you.” You were breathless, skin flushed and shimmering with sweat, riding him like you were made for it, like you’d waited years just to do this. His voice dropped, rough and filthy. “Riding me like a good fucking girl. Just like that… so tight, so perfect… fuck, look at that messy little pussy swallowing me.” You moaned, your grip moving, hand sliding from his neck to his tie, grabbing it like reins as you leaned back, changing the angle.
Yunho cursed under his breath, hips thrusting up hard into you, the new position letting him reach deeper. You held the tie tight in one hand, other bracing behind you, your head falling back as your body rocked with every punishing snap of his hips. “Take it,” he growled, eyes locked on where your bodies met. “Let me feel you come on my dick.” You were shaking. The pressure was blinding, coiled, climbing, too much too fast. Your grip on his tie slipped, fingers trembling as your thighs gave out, the rhythm breaking as he held you up with both arms. That’s when it hit. You screamed, body spasming around him as the orgasm tore through you, intense and uncontrollable, your hips jerking as your slick gushed out, soaking him, the sheets, everything.
Yunho lost it. “Fucking hell…” he snarled, hands flying under your thighs, holding you up, still inside you as your body trembled through the aftershocks. “You just squirted all over my dick… fuck….. you have no idea what you do to me.” His face was wild, flushed, pupils blown, hair a mess, jaw slack in awe. And he hadn’t even come yet. Not even close. Your body was still shaking, breath ragged, thighs trembling, but Yunho wasn’t done. Not even close. His arms were already moving, sweeping under your thighs, lifting you effortlessly before flipping your body like you weighed nothing. You let out a breathless laugh, heart thundering as your cheek hit the pillow, hips raised behind you.
Face down. Ass up. The moment your knees settled on the mattress, Yunho was behind you again, kneeling tall. His hand slid along your back, slow, reverent, until he reached his tie, still dangling around his neck. He pulled it loose with one slow tug. And then, he snapped it once in the air, letting it smack lightly across your ass. You yelped, a strangled moan slipping out before you could catch it and he chuckled darkly, leaning over, fist full of your hair, tilting your head back just enough for you to hear him growl at your ear, “Give me your hands.”
Your stomach flipped. Your arms slid back without hesitation, wrists together behind your back, breathing already hitching as Yunho guided the silky tie around your hands, not too tight, not restrictive, but just enough for you to hold, a makeshift grip. He slipped it once around, letting you clutch the ends in your fists, but he kept hold of a small loop, his loop. A rein. And then he leaned back. And thrusted into you making you cry out, face buried in the sheets, fingers curling tight around the tie as his hips slammed forward again, hard, deep, relentless. “Fuck…” he groaned, the sound rough and ruined. “You feel so fucking good like this… look at you… look at what you’re letting me do to you.”
You arched for him instinctively, ass pushing back, trying to take every inch of him. He growled again, his fingers gripping the little loop of the tie like a handle, tugging just slightly as he snapped his hips forward. “Is this what you wanted?” he panted. “To be bent over like this? Hands behind your back, soaked and shaking for me?” You nodded into the sheets, too breathless to speak. He spanked you once with the flat of his hand, groaning at the jiggle of your ass before thrusting even deeper. His pace quickened, wet, filthy slaps filling the room, your cries rising with every stroke. “Say it,” he demanded, another thrust rocking your body. “Say you wanted this.”
“I wanted it…” you gasped, “I wanted you… Yunho, please!” His hand slipped under your tied arms, wrapping around your waist, keeping you flush against him as he started pounding up into you like a man possessed and then the pace shifted. He slowed, just slightly, his thrusts no longer brutal, but deep, deliberate, every inch dragging along your walls, making your whole body quiver. Then he stopped. You whined at the loss, but he was already moving again, leaning down over you, his mouth trailing kisses along your back, soft and reverent. “Yunho,” you breathed, body melting beneath him.
But then he shifted. The thick head of his dick slid upward, not inside you, but against you. Specifically, right against the tight, sensitive rim of your ass. You moaned. Loudly and Yunho froze. You felt it, his dick twitching, his whole body going still, like his brain just short circuited. And then you did the most dangerous thing you possibly could. You pushed back against him. Just slightly. Just enough. “Fuck,” he choked, eyes wide. “You… you can’t just….” You turned your head, meeting his stunned gaze over your shoulder. “Can’t what?” you asked, voice full of sin. “Moan when you press your dick against my ass? Push back a little when it feels so fucking good?”
He made a broken sound in his throat. Then he flipped you. One second you were face down, and the next you were on your back, legs spread, thighs trembling, breath catching as he knelt between them, one hand wrapped around his dick, the other pressed to your stomach like he was trying to hold himself together. He looked wrecked. Hair wild. Lips swollen. Tie still dangling from your wrists as he leaned down to kiss you, slow, messy, possessive. And when he pulled back, you were gasping, dazed beneath him, your eyes flicking down to where his dick was resting between your folds.
He pressed in. Just the tip. Then slipped back out. Pressed again, this time a little lower. The head of his dick nudged at your soaked pussy… then slid up to press against your other hole again. You shivered and he grinned. “Look at you,” he rasped, stroking himself slowly as he rocked his hips, back and forth, tip teasing your clit, then dragging lower, switching between both entrances until your breath hitched and your hips rolled helplessly. “You want both, don’t you?” You moaned again, back arching, wrists tugging at the tie behind you as you nodded, lips parted in open desperation. “Yunho…. please…”
He leaned down, his voice like velvet and sin. “Tell me.” You whimpered, body aching. “I want both.” His dick twitched in his hand as you whispered again, louder, filthier. “I want your dick in my pussy and my ass. I want to feel you stretch me out and fill me.” Yunho’s jaw clenched so tight it clicked. And then he was leaning back again, his hands firm on your thighs, spreading you wider, watching your body tremble beneath him, hands curling tighter around your thighs as he dragged you closer on the bed, the sheets twisting beneath you like the tension in your core.
You could barely breathe, heart hammering, legs trembling as he angled himself forward, one hand guiding the thick head of his dick down between your legs. His tip pressed into your already soaked entrance, one slow, filthy thrust, deep into your pussy. You both gasped. Your walls fluttered around him, slick and hot and dripping, and Yunho groaned deep in his chest as he pulled back just slightly, watching his dick glisten with your arousal. He stared for a second, like he was hypnotized. Then he swallowed hard, voice low and wrecked. “Perfect.”
You whimpered, hips rolling without permission as he leaned forward again, his dick slipping free from your pussy with a wet sound, coated in you, glistening from tip to base. He reached down, guiding himself lower. To your other entrance. Your breath caught as his tip kissed your rim, warm, teasing pressure that made your whole body tense. “Relax,” he murmured, kissing your thigh. “I’ve got you.” You did. You trusted him. And then… you moaned. A long, filthy, needy sound, because he didn’t push in all at once. Oh no. Yunho took his time.
He slowly rocked forward, just barely nudging the tip in. You gasped, fingers curling tight in the sheets, body quivering as the stretch began. “F… Fuck” he hissed, his jaw locked, his entire body trembling as he slid in, inch by glorious inch. “You’re so fucking tight… shit” Your thighs shook as he paused halfway, one hand stroking down your belly, thumb brushing just above your clit. “You okay?” he asked, voice strained as you nodded, eyes fluttering shut. “More. Please. More.” And Yunho, sweet, nerdy, secret-possessive Yunho, gave you exactly what you begged for.
He pushed deeper, slower, hands splayed against your hips to steady you both as he finally sank all the way inside. You were full. So full. And Yunho looked like he was holding on by the thinnest thread of control. “Fuck, baby,” he growled, voice breaking. He wasn’t moving yet. Just sitting deep, buried inside you, letting you feel the stretch, the burn, the glorious pressure of having him in your ass after being soaked and wrecked already. You whimpered, eyes fluttering as he started moving. Slow at first. Deep. His dick pulled back just a little, and then he drove into your ass again, hips rolling, pace building, thrusts getting faster and more demanding with each stroke.
Your mouth dropped open. A sound you couldn’t even name spilled out, half moan, half shattered whimper. “Fuck,” Yunho growled, voice rough and low. “You take me so well. Every fucking inch.” His hands gripped your thighs, tight, firm, grounding, and he began to really move, hips snapping forward, burying himself again and again as the wet sounds of your bodies echoed in the room like a dirty drumbeat. You could feel yourself tightening again, already, your body completely overwhelmed by the stretch, the fullness, the filthy perfection of him inside you. And then he pulled out.
You barely had time to register the loss before he shifted, gripped himself, dragged his dick down, and thrust into your pussy in one deep, wet, aching plunge. Your head snapped back. “Yunho!” But he wasn’t stopping. No. He was switching. Pulling out of your pussy, sliding back into your ass. Then out again, dripping with you, back into your pussy with a deep, brutal thrust that made your back arch and your legs tremble. Back and forth. Wet and filthy and perfect. You were unraveling. Completely. No coherent thought, just pleasure. Just sensation. Just Yunho, destroying every nerve ending and building something new from the wreckage.
And then you snapped. “Yunho!” you cried, eyes rolling back as your body tightened, your thighs shaking around his waist, that heat exploding deep inside you as you came hard. Your pussy clenched around him, fluttering wildly, your whole body jerking, a rush of wetness coating him as you creamed his dick. Yunho groaned, his head dropping to your shoulder, hands gripping you tighter as he held himself back, riding out your orgasm with tight, shallow thrusts that made your body jerk with every aftershock. “God,” he rasped, “you’re perfect…. fuck, baby, you feel so good… don’t stop, don’t stop, just let me…. fuck.”
He didn’t pull out. He didn’t even think about it. Instead, Yunho dragged you up into his lap, dick still buried deep in your ass, then, back into your pussy wrecked body, and kissed you like he’d been starving for it since the day you first said hi in the office hallway. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, your fingers in his hair, both of you breathless and soaked in sweat, your thighs shaking around his hips. He pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against yours, lips brushing yours with every word he spoke next. “You’re mine.”
It was a low, almost guttural claim, not a question. Your breath hitched. “Say it,” he whispered, voice rough, raw, desperate. “Say it back. Say you’re mine.” You gasped as he thrusted up into you once, not hesitating even a second. “Yours! I’m yours, Yunho.” His hands gripped your hips, and he started thrusting up into you again, harder now, deeper, not stopping, his mouth moving across your jaw, kissing, biting, owning every inch of skin he could reach. You moaned, loud, as he bounced you on his lap, every thrust hitting new angles, deeper than before, your nails dragging down his back, his dick pushing you toward another high.
The man he moved, laying you back down, not pulling out, just kept going as he moved your legs, hooked them over his shoulders, pushing them up, folding you in half beneath him, his pace relentless now, dick slamming into you over and over, your slick thighs shaking against his chest. He gripped your wrists, pulled your arms up above your head, held you there, completely spread and helpless, unable to do anything but take every punishing thrust and moan his name like a prayer. “You’re so fucking perfect,” he growled, voice cracking. “So good for me… so fucking tight… fuck, baby…” And then you shattered. Again.
Your body jerked beneath him, eyes rolling back as you screamed his name, your pussy clenching down around him, a mess of slick and cream and overstimulation. He lost it. “Fuck… I’m gonna…. shit… yes!” He didn’t pull out. He couldn’t. Yunho grunted deep as his thrusts turned frantic, just a few more and then he came, hard, hips pressed deep as he spilled everything inside you, his whole body trembling with the force of it, gasping against your mouth. His dick pulsed inside you, your body still fluttering around him, and all he could do was moan, wrecked, as you milked every last drop from him. “You’re mine,” he whispered again, softer this time, against your lips. And you kissed him back like you were never letting him go.
═════════ ═════════ ═════════
Monday morning in the office was always a little sluggish, half the team clinging to caffeine, half pretending their weekends were productive. But this Monday? This Monday had a vibe. People noticed it the second you walked in. A little extra swing in your step. That subtle but smug expression on your face like someone had properly rearranged your insides and your priorities. And then, there was Yunho. He walked in ten minutes later, glasses fogged from the outside heat, hair mussed like he hadn’t really tamed it this morning, his tie slightly looser than usual.
But it wasn’t the subtle changes that gave him away. No. It was how he looked at you. Quick flickers of his gaze from across the office. A slight twitch at the corner of his mouth every time you bit your lip. His entire body stiffening every time you adjusted your blouse collar, and exposed the very noticeable hickey blooming at the base of your throat. And Wooyoung? He was having the time of his life. He walked by Yunho’s desk at least three times before finally dropping into the seat next to him, balancing his coffee on one knee as he grinned.
“So… anything eventful happen this weekend?” he asked, far too casually. Yunho’s pen stopped mid note. “I reorganized my bookshelves.” Wooyoung sipped his latte. “Oh, is that what we’re calling it now? She help you alphabetize them?” Yunho didn’t even turn to look at him. “Drop it.”
“Mmhmm,” Wooyoung hummed. “I’ll drop it right after I ask what position you were in when you gave her that hickey because from here, bro, it looks like…”
“Wooyoung.”
“Okay, okay,” he laughed, hands up in surrender. “I’ll behave.” Enter Hannah. Wearing a skirt just short enough to be HR questionable, as she waltzed up to Yunho’s desk like she hadn’t been told “not interested” seven separate times. “Yunho,” she said sweetly, her acrylics tapping on the edge of his desk. “You going to Seonghwa’s birthday dinner next week?” He looked up, blinked once. “Maybe.” And his answer made her smile too wide. “You should sit next to me. I’ll save you a seat.”
You, watching from your desk with the air of a woman who had been thoroughly claimed in about five different positions over the weekend, narrowed your eyes. You leaned back in your chair, tilted your head to one side, and smirked. Hannah saw it. Her eyes dropped to the hickey. Then to Yunho. Then back to you. And her jaw tightened. You raised your coffee cup in her direction and gave her the softest, pettiest wink in corporate history. She stormed off two seconds later. Yunho let out a slow breath like he’d just been caught in the middle of a Cold War standoff as he turned just slightly to glance at you. And you? You mouthed, “Mine.”
He immediately turned back to his screen and missed four words of the email he was writing.
pairing: flirty!Mingi x reader (feat. friends!ot7 ateez)
wc: 810
content: art school au, teasing, fluff, skinship
Song Mingi flirted with everyone. It might as well have been a campus-wide fact. Music majors, dance majors, and even the guy at the smoothie cart—he didn't discriminate. Mingi handed out compliments like candy. Harmless, cocky, loud. That was Mingi.
So when he flirted with you, you thought nothing of it.
Until you flirted back.
"You look stressed," he said, sitting next to you during music theory, "Want me to kiss it better?" You didn't flinch, turning your head slowly as you smiled sweetly at him and said,
"Only if you promise not to fall in love." Mingi blinked. For the first time since you met him, he didn't have a comeback. After that, it was like watching someone short-circuit in real life.
You dropped teasing one-liners here and there: quiet, casual, and always when he least expected it. You'd whisper during study sessions, flipping through sheet music, "Did you wear that cologne to distract me?" He nearly dropped his pen.
You'd tug at his hoodie strings when he passed you in the halls, call him 'pretty boy' in front of his friends, and offer bites of your lunch to him with a slight, seemingly innocent tilt to your head.
One afternoon, in the middle of an ensemble meeting, you leaned over and whispered, "If you keep looking at me like that, people are gonna think you like me." Every reaction was better than the last—his ears turning pink, his laugh a little too loud, his gaze lingering longer than before.
The flirt king was unraveling before your very eyes, and it was delicious.
"So what's the deal with you and Mingi," San asked one day, brow arched. You sipped your iced coffee, "What deal?"
"Oh, I don't know.. Maybe why he looks like a bomb two seconds from detonating every time you talk to him," he said, mouth half-full of chips. “The other day you just smiled at him and he tripped over his own backpack.”
Shrugging, you replied, "He isn't used to a taste of his own medicine." San snorted. “He’s used to winning. You’re messing him up.”
You smiled, satisfied. “Good.”
It wasn't until the school showcase afterparty that things shifted.
You showed up late: lip gloss shiny, hair curled perfectly, and wearing that dress you knew made you feel unstoppable. The campus event hall was glowing with string lights and soft bass, everyone buzzing with post-performance adrenaline.
Mingi spotted you the second you walked in, frozen with his drink halfway to his mouth. "Dude," Wooyoung nudged, "Pick your jaw up."
Mingi shoved him, but his eyes didn’t move. You walked through the crowd like gravity pulled you to him, your smile easy but your eyes locked.
When you did finally saunter over, you touched his arm lightly and smiled, "Miss me?"
He swallowed. "You're trying to kill me." You leaned in, close enough so that only he could hear, "you started it."
The night stretched on—music, drinks, dancing. You didn’t stray far from each other. Every time someone pulled you away, Mingi’s eyes followed. Every time someone flirted with him, your laugh pulled him back.
You danced once—just once—and that was enough. His hands on your waist, your fingers brushing the back of his neck, your eyes locked and your lips barely a breath apart.
“You’re really playing with fire,” he whispered.
You tilted your head. “So burn.”
Tension, thick as fog, hovered between you.
Later, outside the building to cool off, you stood under the string lights, the muffled music still humming through the walls. Mingi joined you, breath uneven.
“I thought I was the flirt,” he said.
“You are,” you replied. “You just never met your match.”
He stared at you for a long moment. Not with teasing or smugness, but with something inquisitive, “I’ve never had someone throw it up in my face like that. You’re… dangerous.”
Then, softly, “I think I’m in trouble.” You stepped closer, chest brushing his. “Then do something about it.” He hesitated.
You arched a brow, looking at him through your lashes. “Scared?”
He smiled. “Not of you.”
“Then kiss me.”
He blinked. “You first.” So you did.
And Mingi melted.
His hands found your hips, his breath hitched, and when your lips met his, the entire night folded in on itself. Like the tension had been a match waiting to strike, and the kiss was the spark.
When you pulled away, he looked a little dazed.
“You okay there, flirt boy?” you teased. He let out a stunned laugh, still holding onto you. “I’ve been flirting with people for years. I think that was the first time it actually meant something.”
You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, grinning. “Welcome to the big leagues.”
He scoffed, voice low. “You’re gonna ruin me.”
“Good.”
And then he kissed you again—this time, like he meant it first.
genre: smut sprinkled with crack and a dash of angst and fluff, close friends to ???, friends!yunho x afab reader
warnings: reader has slight body insecurities + bro's fingers just go crazy tbh
author's note: guess who's back. but on a fr note please be nice this is my first oneshot in a fat fucking minute after this godamn cb i needed to write something about someone omfg.
"y'know shigaraki's hand thing would lowkey be kinda hot if he wasn't so crusty." one of your friends, wooyoung comments on the anime's villain.
"what the-"
"you're kinda on something." you agree as you tilt your head watching shigaraki fight deku with one of the hands on his face.
you look back on the couch to see your other friend yunho sitting back looking horrified while wooyoung raised his soda can as a 'thank you' for agreeing with him.
"let me get this straight, you think the tomura shigaraki, the fucking villian in my hero academia is hot? the one with his literal deceased family member's hands all over his body?" yunho asks still horrified at your comments.
"okay, well not when you put it like that." you huff in fake annoyance.
"so what the hell is hot about him?"
"hands! the hands yunho!" wooyoung jumps in and answers as if it's the most obvious thing.
"okay...what about hands?"
"it's like a niche thing some people find hot on others." you explain trying not to out yourself as a hands freak. but lord, jeong fucking yunho had the most beautiful hands out there. they're long and slim and his hands are huge. his hands are just amazing at pc games.
"yeah, haven't you seen y/n checking your hands out when you play val?" wooyoung adds, his eyes not even leaving the tv.
you throw your hands up in defense, "now why am i catching strays?"
"am i not wrong?"
"ok ok, i get it. hands are hot-"
"-thank y-"
"-and y/n finds my hands hot." yunho adds with a devious smirk earning a chuckle from wooyoung.
"alright! time to get the fuck out!" you stand up and throw the pillow you were holding at yunho.
"nooooo, the episode isn't done yet!" wooyoung whines as you shoo him off the couch.
"there's two minutes left! go home!" you argue as you start cleaning up the living room.
"aw man." wooyoung pouts as he collects his jacket and leftovers from the dining table.
"we can finish the rest of the season next week when i don't have work the next morning." you offer trying to compensate.
"deal." your friend says as he slips on his shoes. "thanks for hosting!"
"of course!"
wooyoung was truly the only one who understood the concept of getting the fuck out immediately as you turned around to see yunho lazily collecting his things.
he 100% wants to talk about what wooyoung said.
"sooo, you really like my hands?" yunho carefully asks in case you launch another pillow at him.
"if i answer honestly, will you get out of my apartment?"
"yeah, yeah, definitely."
you give yunho a death stare noticing the fakeness in his voice.
"i swear i will!"
"good." you say unfolding your arms, "then yeah i think they're hot."
"wait really?"
"no more questions!" you quip pushing yunho to the door.
thankfully both wooyoung and yunho had dropped the topic of hands around you after that binge night at your apartment but that doesn't mean that you were still thinking about it. the situation with wooyoung outing your desire for yunho's hand. definitely not yunho's hands...
okay to admit though, you had a little crush on yunho but it's one those things where if he made a move on you, you wouldn't be mad about it. you've been friends with him since your second college after meeting him through wooyoung and even then you thought he was a little cute but it wasn't enough for you to be ballsy with it. wooyoung also definitely had his suspicions of you liking him too but he always had his knack for just knowing who peopled liked.
yunho on the other hand was a little bit of mystery when it came to his dating scene. you didn't really ask about what type of girls he was into or who he was seeing because partially, you didn't wanna feel jealous. you heard from wooyoung and your other friends gossip about yunho's flings with him at parties. the only recent fling he had was a kind of awhile ago but who knows if she's still in the picture. not like you were keeping track or anything.
luckily, yunho also wasn't weird about the whole situation either. things were still normal between the two of you. even the next binge event at your place was normal. you guys were able to finish the season without any mentioning of hands.
wooyoung had to take off a little earlier than usual since san called him about something going wrong in their apartment leaving yunho to help clean your place.
"you wanna play mario kart after we clean? i brought my switch." yunho offered.
"don't have to ask me twice" as you throw yunho the lysol wipes for the table.
after a quick cleaning session, yunho began setting up his switch and connecting it to your tv. you quietly sat next to him watching yunho use the controller to maneuver around the tv. there was something about how long his fingers were and how quickly they were moving the joysticks around. his hands were extra veiny today too.
the pads of his thumbs could definitely fully cover your n-
"are you good?" yunho asks pulling you out of your thoughts, as he offers you one of the controllers.
you shake your head as if it would get rid of the dirty thoughts, "yeah, mhm."
"okay buddy." yunho says as he drops one of the controllers into your hands. he definitely didn't buy it.
there was a moment of silence as yunho goes to open the game and without even looking at you he asks, "you really like my hands huh?"
"excuse me?" your heartbeat that already increased was literally about to burst out of your chest. "i thought i already answered this question."
"i mean, yeah." he shrugs just now looking back at you, "but i wanna hear you say it again."
"absolutely not." you protest.
"okay fine but how about this, if i get the fastest time you have to admit that you looove my hands and if you win, you can ask me any truth or dare question."
"anything?" you bargain with a mischievous raised eyebrow.
"yes."
"deal. you go first."
here's the thing, you were an absolute god at this game and yunho although he is competitive literally has no shot at beating you unless he cheats. so this little race should be a piece of cake. nothing you can't handle.
you guys had decided that the both of you would race on rainbow road and were able to pick what character and car they wanted. deciding to be an honest player, you sat back and watched yunho drive. this time while yunho was playing, you were too busy focusing on how he was doing to even think about his hands. you had to admit though, he was doing really well even though he shelled here and there.
"done!"
"five minutes and thirty seconds." you call out right after. "not bad yunho but we'll see about that."
"okay, sweat."
that nickname earned yunho a middle finger and you sticking out your tongue at him.
as you were selecting your character and tweaking the car, you could sense yunho moving closer to you. not enough to touch you but enough to be all up in your space. out of the corner of your eye you could see him fidgeting with something with his hands. his fingers were twiddling with an object that you couldn't quite make out.
focus. you think as you shake your head and return your full attention to the screen.
after completing your car design, you were ready for the race to begin. while waiting for the race to begin it's countdown, you let your eyes linger back to yunho's fingers to find out what the hell he was playing with. was he shredding a napkin? or playing wth the extra controller?
"y/n?" yunho's voices brings you out of your trance as you realize that you were holding down the gas for too long causing your boost to backfire.
"shit."
"lock in y/n." yunho teases turning his body towards you more, allowing his hands to appear perfectly in the corner of your eye.
"shut up." you growl back at him.
the rest of the race continues somewhat smoothly without any more yunho distractions but fuck that start really fucked up your time. you were closing in on the finish line coming in almost second place until some fuckass throws another red shell at you causing your character to spiral for a few seconds before resuming the track.
"what the fuck!"
"and that's time!" yunho shouts after your outburst. "five minutes and fifty-five seconds."
"that fucking red shell and you!" you turn your anger towards yunho and grab one of the couch pillows and chuck it at him.
"yah! i still won! admit it y/n!" yunho taunts doing a little celebratory dance on the floor.
your lips form into a thin line as you glare at him and shake your head.
"ah, ah, you bet on it."
avoiding the dare, you jabbed your fingers into yunho's side to "tase" him, knowing it was one of his most ticklish spots. you watch in glee as yunho starts to spasm on the floor from being tickled so hard.
"y/n! you little shit!" yunho shouts in between laughs as you kept tickling his sides.
deciding to be nice, you slow your attacks on him to let yunho catch his breath but he takes the opportunity to grab both of your wrists in one swoop. before you knew it, you were leaning over yunho's face with your arms hanging above your head. a blush crept on your face as you realized the position you were in.
"admit it." yunho said with a sick smirk on his face. it's like he took pleasure in making you flustered.
in no position to retaliate, you surrender. "i think your hands are hot jeong yunho."
"thanks pretty." yunho's eyes flicker to your lips for a split second. "wanna see what else they can do?"
too many things just happened. first of all, you losing in mario kart which never fucking happens then you basically getting manhandled by one of your closest friends and lastly, you were enjoying every moment of it. you were too nervous to use your voice so you just nodded along to whatever yunho just said.
you could see the lust fill in yunho's eyes while he talked. "i need words pretty."
"y-yes, i do." you mumble out. "please."
"thank you angel." yunho smiles before swiftly switching positions with you. "that was all i needed."
lying on your back, you stared back up at yunho who had a whole different demeanor ten minutes ago.
"do you know how long i've waited for a moment like this?" yunho asks his face a mere two inches away.
"why keep waiting then?" you tease back.
"you're right."
before you knew it, yunho leans forward and captures your soft lips earning a small gasp from you. his hands slowly traveled down your body as he swiped the bottom of your lip which allowed him access to your tongue. the thirst for each other was so strong after such a long time of waiting. did yunho like you this whole time too?
regardless of what he thought of you, he was devouring your lips. eventually, he traveled down your body leaving wet, open mouth kisses everywhere. he didn't stop until he figured out your sweet spot. yunho's lips came to a stop making you whine.
"can i take this off angel?" he asks softly, motioning to your shirt.
"yes, please."
"fast learner." yunho teases as he slips the shirt off of you.
instinctively, your hands fly to cover your chest when you realize you were almost fully topless in front of him. yunho notices your sudden shyness and stops moving. "what's wrong pretty?"
it was too embarrassing to admit that you were hella fucking nervous to be this exposed in front of yunho but it was too late he already read your mind. "don't be shy angel. we can put your shirt back on or i can take mine off so we're even?"
with a sweaty hand, you tug at his shirt with a pout. "can you take yours off too please?"
"since you asked so nicely." yunho grins as he slips off his shirt revealing his toned body. "now we're even."
a small smile appears on your lips as your arms return to yunho's neck. "thank you."
"of course, anything for you angel." yunho pecks your lips. "are you good to keep going?"
"yes." you breath out looking into his eyes. something about yunho just made you feel good. he just felt so familiar and comforting.
yunho leans back down and goes back to devouring your lips still not satisfied. he was determined to find your sweet spot if that meant kissing you all over your body. now that your shirt was off, he spent a little extra time on your boobs. he would alternate between kissing and sucking them before leaving an experimental hickey here and there.
it wasn't until he went back on your neck that he buried his face in the crook of your neck and shoulder making you gasp. you could feel yunho smirk once he realized he found your sweetspot. this time he mercilessly attacked your neck with open mouthed kisses leaving you moaning.
god, did he take his sweet time with you in this little spot. however, it wasn't enough to satisfy the growing arousal pooling down your legs. "yunho, please" you pant out, "need more."
"oh?" yunho pulls away from your neck making you whine once more.
"please yunho." you beg and tug at one of his wrists, leading them to the waistband of your pants.
he didn't say a word as he went to work on unbuttoning your pants and helping you slide them off. to test the waters, he cupped your clothed cunt and felt how fucking soaked you were. "angel, you're dripping."
"please." you moan out. "yun please."
"'m sorry pretty." yunho gives you a quick kiss as an apology before slipping his hand into your panties.
another moan escapes your puffy lips as yunho slips in one his long fingers. yunho kept his eyes on you as he moved his finger at a maddening slow pace.
fuck, even with just one of his fingers, it's exactly what you fantasized about. but you needed more. now.
"yun, please. i need more."
"okay, angel."
hearing your pleas, yunho slips not just one but two more fingers in you earning another gasp from you.
"fuck!"
again, yunho starts off with his sick, slow pace letting you adjust to the size difference. he loved watching your face contort in pleasure and a sense of pride washed over him as he realized that he was the one making you like this. all needy and fucked out without even needing to take his dick out.
slowly but surely, he quickened his pace without you even asking. multiple moans fell from your lips but they all got buried as soon as yunho captured your lips again. he swallowed every noise that came out your mouth which made him lose his mind. you sounded so fucking hot.
it wasn't too long until yunho's lips fell back into the crook of your neck earning him another loud moan. he would nip and suck on the spot before relieving the pain with a wet kiss. even with his mouth busy on your neck, his fingers never relented it's pace. the combined pleasure was absolutely insane. the warming sensation in cunt grew so intense that you couldn't hold it any longer.
"yunho, mmmh-fuck. 'm close." you moan, "so close nngh."
"come on angel." yunho encouraged, "give it to me pretty."
somehow his fingers sped up even more making you cry out even more. "too much yun!"
"angel, please." yunho moans into your ear, "give it to me. you can do it baby."
"fuck!" you cry out again, before finally letting go all over yunho's fingers.
"just like that angel," yunho praises as he continued to work you through your orgasm.
you were out of breath once you finished, your eyes closing in satisfaction.
"i'll be right back angel." yunho says as he presses a warm kiss to your forehead. the loss of his fingers made you whine.
with heavy eyes, you watched as yunho disappeared into the kitchen. a moment later, he came back with a clean rag and a glass of ice water.
handing you the water, he gently cleaned you up. finally getting to see just how much you came he couldn't help but tease you.
synopsis ; you were in the woods one day when you came across an injured wooyoung who was being chased by hunters. he had expected you to turn him in, but to his surprise, you didn't; you led them away before offering to help him. however, this was only going to be the beginning for you and him.
pairing(s) ; wooyoung x f!reader
☆ ── wc. ; 12.8k
☆ ── genre ; hybrid!au, fox hybrid!wooyoung, human!reader, angst, fluff, smut
☆ ── tw. ; MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!, blood, mentions of guns, cussing, wooyoung has severe trust issues with humans, reader stitches his wound, mentions of abuse, familial issues, violence, petnames (sweetheart, baby, babydoll, love, my love...), kissing, rough makeout, unprotected sex, breast play, bulge kink, breeding, creampie, knotting, biting/marking, fingering, cum eating, clit play, overstimulation, cockwarming, mentions of war, wooyoung is unsure in the beginning, mentions of a rut, teasing, big dick!wooyoung, reader has trouble sleeping, lmk if I missed anything!
The air was crisp as you sat against the rough trunk of a tree, the bark digging into your skin through your thin jacket. You didn’t seem to mind, though; your attention was far too sucked into the book that was in your hands. You hummed softly as you turned the page, not realizing that you were almost already finished with the book.
A loud gunshot rang through the air, causing you to jump, the book falling from your hands as you scrambled to your feet. There weren’t supposed to be hunters in this area of the woods. The birds squawk loudly overhead, and you start to panic.
Completely forgetting about your book, you rushed in the direction in which the gunshot had come from. You smacked a few branches out of your way until you came to a clearing, yet what you found shocked you.
A man hunched against a tree, his hand clutching his side. Yet that wasn’t what caught your attention; no, it was the ears that sat on top of his black hair. The fox hybrid ears that you had only seen a few times, seeing as the species tends to keep to themselves.
Sensing your presence, he looked up, meeting your shocked gaze with wide eyes. He hadn’t expected there to be another person in the woods. Were you with the hunters who were after him?
“Are yo–” You started to ask, taking a step closer to him when you noticed the crimson liquid that coated his hand, but he quickly shushed you. Confused, you opened your mouth once more but quickly closed it when you heard rushed footsteps.
“Hey!” A voice shouted, causing your head to snap over to a group of hunters, all of them holding rifles, aiming directly at you. Your heart leaped into your throat, and your hands shot up in surrender. You could tell by their appearance that they weren’t just any regular hunters. No, the insignia they wore on their coats was from a very prominent hybrid hunter organization.
You could see the fox hybrid from the corner of your eye, but you didn’t dare glance over, not wanting to give them any hints as to where he was because you were sure that he was who they were after.
Swallowing thickly, you opened your mouth, “can I help you?”
“Did you see a fox hybrid run by here?” One of the men in the front asked, his rifle still aimed at you, and your nerves spiked seeing how close his finger was to the trigger. These people were ruthless and would kill just about any and everything that got in their way.
Wooyoung, in turn, watched you, his heart pounding in his chest at the mere thought of you throwing him under the bus for your own safety. It's what every human does, after all. So he started to rack his brain for any possible ways to get out of this alive. That was until he heard you speak, his ears twitching slightly in shock.
“N-No, it’s just been me out here.” You spoke as your heart hammered against your ribs the longer he held you at gunpoint. The hunter looked at you skeptically as he took a step in your direction, and you quickly spoke again to keep him from coming any closer and finding the dark-haired male. “But I did hear scuffling in that direction on my way over!” You spoke quickly, pointing in a different direction, and the hunter raised an eyebrow, staring you down for a moment, waiting for you to show any signs of lying, but he thought you would have to be some kind of idiot to lie while you had multiple guns pointed directly at you.
“Thank you.” He nodded curtly before lowering the rifle, which in turn resulted in the others lowering theirs as well. You offered a meek smile, your hands still in the air as you watched him motion the others in the direction you pointed them in.
The air around you was silent as you watched their retreating figures, your heart beating so loud you could hear it through your own ears. Then, when they were far enough away, Wooyoung let out a groan, which pulled you out of your daze.
Without much thought to it, you rushed over to make sure he was okay, but as soon as you reached out to him, he growled, bearing his teeth at you, “Don’t touch me.”
He looked at you, a mixture of pain and fear pooling in his dark eyes, and you felt your heart drop. Swallowing thickly, you shrugged off your jacket, not caring that the cold air nipped at your bare arms, and held it out to him.
“I just want to help; I promise I’m not here to hurt you.” You spoke softly, meeting his eyes once more, and he looked between you and the jacket you were holding out. Reluctantly, he took the clothing, his fingers brushing the palm of your hand, sending a flurry of sparks along your skin. “My cabin isn’t too far from here, I can tend to your wound, and you can go after that. I just want to help.” You reassured him, keeping a comfortable distance between the two of you.
Wooyoung looked at you skeptically for a few long moments, weighing the pros and cons. He could either send you away and risk bleeding out in these very woods before he could get home, or worse, the hunters find him again. Or he could swallow his pride for a bit and allow you, a human, to help him and then he’d be free to go on his own way.
“Fine.” His tone was cold as he pushed himself off of the tree, and you stepped forward but stopped short when he let out a low growl.
“You need to add more pressure to it.” You stated as you took a step towards him despite the warning in his eyes and his ears flattened against his head. All signs that you should back off, but you pushed the fear to the side and walked towards him until you were just inches away.
He watched you with a keen gaze as you moved around him to wrap your jacket around his torso and then tie it. You jumped when a pained hiss left his lips, and his hand grabbed your wrist tightly, mumbling an apology as you finished tying off the knot after he released your wrist. It wasn’t perfect, but it would do until you got back to your cabin.
You wanted to offer to help him walk, but judging by the way his ears still haven’t relaxed and his tail is tucked down, he wasn’t going to let you do more than just lead him. Stepping away once more, you noticed that he relaxed a little bit when you weren’t so close, so you took the chance to point in the direction of your cabin.
“It’s just this way, if you need help let me kn–”
“I can walk on my own," he growled. You quickly nodded, backing off and allowing him to follow you.
–
It took a little bit longer to get to your cabin than you originally thought because Wooyoung had twisted his ankle while running, so he lagged behind. You wanted so badly to help him, but you knew not to overstep any boundaries for your own safety. But the two of you made it inside without too much of a problem, and as soon as you shut the door, you pointed towards the couch.
“You can sit there; I have to grab my first aid kit," you told him before turning and walking down the hall, leaving Wooyoung standing there.
He looked around the living room, expecting to find any sign that you might be with those hunters. Yet all he found were paintings of various nature elements and a few photographs of you and two other girls, one he knew was a cat hybrid the moment he saw her ears.
Surprised wasn’t even the word that he would use. After the war that broke out between humans and hybrids, he was sure that no other humans treated hybrids with any semblance of respect. Moving further into the house, he was met with a strong smell of vanilla and cashmere, but your scent overpowered everything else. It was sweet like cherries, but with a hint of vanilla and sage as well—a scent he had never smelled before.
Unbeknownst to him, Wooyoung’s tail started to wave softly behind him, and his ears relaxed a bit more as he picked up on the sound of you in the other room. Even when the place felt safe, he couldn’t help but keep his guard up, knowing he’d fallen into the same trick before, which cost him severely.
After finding the first aid kit, you walked back into the living room, finding the fox limping around the room as he looked at the decorations on your walls. Letting out a small cough, you caught his attention, and he looked over at you. He then walked over to the couch that you had pointed out earlier and sat down, a groan falling from his lips as he did so.
You walked over and sat the first aid kit next to him, and he suddenly froze at how close you had gotten, a low growl reverberating from his throat. You looked over at him, finding his upper lip twitching slightly, and you took a small step back, a huff leaving your lips.
“If you want me to help, you need to let me near you.” You stated, and Wooyoung glared at you but stopped growling, and you took that as a sign. Retaking your spot in front of him, you started to reach for the knot of the jacket but stopped short; he started growling in warning once more. Titling your head to look at him, your breath hitched in your throat when you realized just how close you were to him. Your eyes trailed along his features, the sharp eyes, the beauty mark that was right under his eye, then to the few scrapes he had on his cheek and jaw. His dark eyes bore into you, captivating you, and something about his closed-off nature pulled you in.
Swallowing down the lump in your throat, you ignored his growling and undid the knot of the jacket sleeves before carefully pulling the blood-soaked cloth away. Once it was off, you threw it to the ground to deal with later. Then, without another thought, you dropped down to your knees in front of him, causing Wooyoung to look at you in surprise, the growling suddenly stopping.
“Now you can either lift your shirt or take it off; either way, I need to see the wound, "you told him as you looked up at him, missing the red that dusted his cheekbones.
He looked down at you, his hands hesitantly reaching for his shirt before pulling it up just enough to reveal his lower torso. You had to stop yourself from gawking at his toned abdomen, but that didn’t stop your heart from accelerating.
Shaking your head softly, you rose up to your knees to look at the wound, and you could tell instantly that it was a gunshot wound, which didn’t surprise you. However, you hoped that it was all the way through because you didn’t have the means to remove bullets. Without a word, you peeked around his torso to look at his back, and a sigh left your lips.
“So good and bad news,” You started, moving to sit on your heels once more to look up at him, “good news, I’m pretty sure it missed anything vital, and it went completely through, so there’s no bullet for me to take out.” You told him, and he just looked down at you, not uttering a word, “Bad news, I’ll need to stitch both the entry and exit wounds, which are going to hurt because I have nothing to numb the pain.”
“If you’re worried about me passing out, don’t. I’ll be fine, so just get on with it.” His voice was gruff as he glared down at you, and you nodded before reaching for your first aid kit.
Not a word was spoken between the two of you as you started to clean the area around the wound. When you started to clean the wound itself, Wooyoung let out a pained hiss, and you apologized before blowing on it to try and alleviate some of the pain.
Wooyoung watched you in curiosity; he had never been treated this kindly by humans. Most of the ones he’s met were assholes, to put it lightly, only wanting him to show off to their human friends like he was some kind of prize. Then, the one human he thought he could actually trust turned out to be just as bad, if not worse, than the others, and some of the wounds from then were still healing.
He was so lost in his thoughts that he hadn’t even realized that he had been staring or that you had even said anything until you waved a hand in front of his face. He blinked a few times before focusing on you once more, the same hard gaze returning to his eyes as he raised an eyebrow.
“I need to clean the other side.” You told him as you stood and sat on the couch next to him, but he didn’t move.
Unease settled into his bones at the thought of turning his back to you, knowing that he would be defenseless if you were to attack him. As if you sensed his unease, you offered him a small, reassuring smile.
“I promise I’m just going to clean and stitch it.” You told him, your hands sitting in your lap as you held his eyes.
He stared at you for a few moments more, contemplating, but there was something in the back of his mind telling him that he could trust you. So, with slight hesitancy, he shifted on the couch with a pained groan until his back was to you.
You covered your mouth to muffle the shocked gasp that fell from your lips at the sight of his scarred skin. Most of them were healed and scarred over, but there were a few that were still fresh, meaning they had just happened recently. You reached out, your fingers brushing over the skin, but you were quick to pull away when the dark-haired male growled, his narrow eyes glaring at you from over his shoulder. Muttering an apology, you focused on the task at hand and started to clean the exit wound, repeating the same process from the other side.
You had heard from your friend that some hybrid owners would whip them, and at first, you couldn’t believe it because there had been laws in place before the war. Yet, looking at these wounds, you were sure that they had come from a whip. You then started to wonder if the person who had done this called the hunters to go after him. It pained you to know that humans could be so cruel, and you wanted nothing more than to wash away his pain, but for now, you could just help him with this one.
Goosebumps littered the male's skin when your warm breath met his skin as you blew on the wound once more. His tail twitched before laying itself across your lap, causing your eyes to widen, but you didn’t say a word, scared that it would scare him off again. Once the wound was clean, you grabbed your suture kit before sitting back to look at him.
“I’m going to stitch the exit wound first, but if you need me to stop at any time, just tell me.” You explained this to Wooyoung, and he turned his head to look at you, a dark gleam pooling in his brown iris.
You let out a sigh when he didn’t say a word before moving to sit at a better angle to stitch up the wound. As soon as you started, his hand that wasn’t holding his shirt up gripped the back of the couch, his knuckles turning white. Pain struck your heart seeing him in pain, but you knew you needed to get this done, so you focused unless he told you to stop, but he never did. After you finished off the last suture, you grabbed some bandages and covered the wound before moving away completely.
“Okay, one side done.” You told him, and he turned his body back around, watching as you knelt down on the ground in front of him once more. His eyes were on you the entire time that you started to wipe some of the fresh blood off. As you brushed over the wound again, his body jerked, causing you to lose your balance, and your hands flew out to steady yourself. However, your breath caught in your throat when you realized that it was his leg that you had used, your other hand on the couch next to his hip. Embarrassed, you fumbled over an apology as you moved away, and Wooyoung just shook his head, eyes averting your gaze as heat flushed over his face.
He would never admit it openly, but the feeling of your hands on him was nice, your skin was soft, and your scent was intoxicating, more so the closer you got. Swallowing thickly, he turned his head as you got to work stitching him up.
Once you were finished, you moved back, packing up your first aid kit before turning to look at the fox, his head still turned. “I’m all done. You’re free to leave, but you’re also more than welcome to stay here.”
You didn’t give him a chance to say anything before you scurried out of the room and towards the kitchen. Wooyoung just watched as your figure disappeared into the other room, his mind fighting with him.
He knew that he was going to leave, but why was he so hesitant about doing so? Shaking his head, he stood to his feet, a pained groan falling from his lips as he did so. He then walked around the couch and towards the door, yet when he reached for the door handle, he felt a tug at his being.
‘Don’t go.’
The voice in the back of his head became clearer than ever, the tugging growing by the second. He retracted his hand to look down at his palm. There was no way he was going to trust another human in his life, but why did he feel such a pull towards you?
Looking out the window, he saw that the sun had already set, and he gritted his teeth. He wasn’t going to be able to make it back home safely at this time. So he let out a huff, deciding that it would be best to just stay here for the night and leave first thing in the morning.
You stood in front of the stove, waiting for the kettle to finish warming up, your mind going back to the whip marks on the male’s back. Wondering who would be so cruel to do that to another person, but in this day and age, you knew that that answer would be hard to get because almost ninety percent of the human population saw hybrids as mere toys or prey for their sick games.
Wooyoung followed where you had gone, finding you standing before the stove. His ears could pick up the steady beat of your heart, and your scent once again invaded his senses. Scrunching up his nose to try and alleviate the overpowering smell, he walked towards you, the question that had been on the tip of his tongue finally falling from his lips.
“Why do you care so much?” His voice broke the silence causing you to nearly jump out of your skin, having not heard him walk in. You turned to look at him, thinking about his question for a moment.
“No one deserves to be treated like that.” You spoke softly as you looked at him, and you could clearly see the suspicion in his eyes, which you didn’t blame him; your kind wasn’t exactly the best to his, “after the war broke out, I vowed to help as many hybrids that I could which in turn got me into trouble, but I didn’t care as long as they were safe.” You explained to him before turning around to pull the screaming kettle off of the stove, pouring some of the boiling liquid into a mug with a tea bag.
Wooyoung just looked at you in confusion. He could tell by your steady heart that you weren’t lying, but he was still perplexed at the thought of you genuinely caring about hybrids. No human did, especially if it meant they would have to leave their normal lives.
“My parents ended up kicking me out after they could get me to change my mind.” You told him, answering the question that was biting at the back of his mind. You let out a sigh before opening a cabinet and pulling out another mug and tea bag, not sparing him a glance as you recalled your parents' methods to ‘persuade’ you. “My best friend is also a hybrid, but she only comes around when it's safe.” You tried to change the subject a little bit as you set the kettle back on the stove after turning it off.
The room then fell silent as you finished up the tea before you turned with both mugs, offering one to the taller male. Wooyoung looked at it skeptically but took it from your hand nonetheless, his fingers brushing against yours, and he could have sworn he felt a shock of some kind.
“I never caught your name.” You spoke as you took a small sip from your own mug, your eyes never leaving his. He mulled over whether or not to give you his name, but in the end, he didn’t see any harm in it.
“Wooyoung.” He told you curtly, and you smiled; it fit him, really.
“I’m y/n.” You introduced yourself before the room fell into a semi-comfortable silence.
You watched as Wooyoung took a sip of the tea, and you laughed softly at the disgust that twisted on his face as soon as the liquid touched his tongue. He looked down at the mug as if it had offended him, his ears twitching slightly, and you couldn’t help but find it cute.
“What is this?” He asked as he sat the mug down on the counter and looked over at you as you took another drink from your own mug.
“It’s chamomile tea," you told him with a small laugh before grabbing his mug and setting it next to the sink. "It helps calm the nerves.”
“Well, it’s gross as hell," he quipped as his nose scrunched, causing you to smile endearingly. At the sight, Wooyoung felt his heart speed up under his ribs. Clearing his throat, he ran his fingers through his hair, but the pain that shot through his abdomen caused him to hiss, and you quickly looked back at him.
“Are you okay?” You asked, taking a step towards him, but that same warning gleam in his eyes from before stopped you.
“I’m fine. Is the couch free?” he asked, and you looked at him with scrunched eyebrows. Had he not expected you to let him use the bed? Seeing your expression, he let out a huff. He knew you were too good to be true. " Forget it. I’ll sleep on the floor.” He then turned and started to walk out.
Panicking a little, you sat your mug down, not caring that some spilled before you rushed forward to grab his arm, stopping him. He looked back at you, and he half expected you to tell him to sleep outside, but your words caught him completely off guard.
“I have a guest room; you don’t have to sleep on the couch or the floor.” You told him as you released his arm, taking a tentative step back as he looked at you with an expression you couldn’t quite read. Interlocking your fingers, you looked up at him. “I can show you the room. I think I have some of my brother's old clothes in there that might fit you if you want to change them.” You told him hesitantly because you had heard about how male hybrids could be about other males' clothing; it didn’t matter if they were human or not.
He stared at you for a moment, trying to figure you out. Running his tongue over his teeth, you felt your heart leap at the sight of his elongated canines, your fingers tightening around each other. Once he agreed, you led him to the spare room, opened the door, and let him walk in.
“Make yourself at home, be wary of your stitches, and don’t get them wet until the twenty-four-hour mark passes.” You told him as you watched him walk into the room, and you noticed that he wasn’t limping anymore, which wasn’t too much of a surprise, seeing as hybrids have heightened healing. “Um, I’ll leave you to it. The clothes are in the wardrobe, and if you need anything, I’m just across the hall.” You pointed over your shoulder, and the dark-haired male nodded as he looked over at you. You offered a small smile before turning and leaving, closing the door behind you.
Wooyoung stood in the middle of the room for a few more moments before his gaze traveled over to the wardrobe, his lip curling in disgust. He would much rather sleep in his dirty clothes than wear anything that’s been near another male. So he walked over to the bed and sat down on the edge. He started to bend down to pull his boots off, but the pain stopped him.
Growling in annoyance, he pulled his leg up to unzip them, kicked them off, and lay down in the bed. As soon as his head hit the pillow, he was met with your scent once more. It seemed like no matter where he went, you followed, but this was your home after all, so he shouldn’t be too surprised. Rolling onto his uninjured side, he tried to sleep, which wasn’t too hard after the long and exhausting day he had.
The loud rumbling of thunder woke Wooyoung dead out of his sleep, his body jolting upwards. His face twisted in pain as his hand covered his wound, pain erupting from the area. Looking around the room he noticed a digital clock sitting on the dresser that sat on the other side of the room.
‘3:47am’
Throwing the blankets off his legs, he stood from the bed and made his way towards the door. Opening it, his ears twitched as he heard movement from somewhere else in the house. Peeking out, he noticed the lights on at the end of the hall, where the living room was. Listening closer, he tried to see if he could hear anything, but the padding of the rain outside made it hard.
Carefully, he walked out of the room and down the hall with light on his feet in case it was an intruder. However, when he turned the corner all he found was you sitting on the couch, a book sitting in your lap. The dim glow of the lap that sat on the side table next to you cast a faint glow upon your skin. He couldn’t tell if it was just his sleep-fogged brain or not, but you looked breathtaking to him, and he hated that he saw you in that kind of light.
Swallowing thick, he turned to leave, not wanting to bother you or be close to you and your intoxicating scent just in case it got to his head. Yet when another clash of thunder vibrated the house, he grimaced, his hands reaching up to pull at his ears.
Hearing the floorboards creak, you looked over and found Wooyoung standing there, messing with his ears. You knew that they had sensitive ears, so you were sure that the thunder was hurting them. Putting the bookmark back into your book, you closed it before setting it down on the coffee table.
Noticing movement from the corner of his eye, Wooyoung looked over to see you standing and walking towards him. He wanted to back away and tell you to not touch him, but he could force the words off of his tongue. You stopped just a few feet in front of him, looking him over. His hair and the scruff on his ears were all messy from his sleeping, and you took note that he was still wearing his clothes. Looking back up to meet his eyes you could see the borderline fear and pain swirling in his chocolate orbs.
“Why don’t you sit down? We can watch a movie until the storm passes.” You told him as you motioned to the couch. As much as he would like to tell you to screw off, he found himself nodding and following you to the couch, taking the empty space next to you but leaving a good amount of space between the both of you.
After you both got comfortable on the couch, you found a movie and pressed play before turning the volume up just enough to drown out the sound of the rolling thunder outside. You handed him the throw blanket after noticing that he was starting to shake slightly, but otherwise, you left him alone, not wanting to push any limits.
The room was quiet, except for the sound of the movie playing through the speakers. You sat with your legs curled underneath you as you played with the loose threads on the couch arm.
“Why are you awake?” His voice caused your heart to jump into your throat, startled by the sudden noise before you glanced over at him.
“Couldn’t sleep.” You told him before turning your gaze back to the TV, your racing heart starting to calm, but Wooyoung’s eyes never left your form.
“Because of the storm?”
You took a moment to respond, mulling over what you should tell him. "Yeah… " It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the full truth either. But you couldn’t find it in yourself to burden him with your problems.
Wooyoung could tell that you hadn’t told the full truth, but he wasn’t going to push for answers, so he just left it at that and went back to watching the movie.
About an hour and a half later, the storm finally calmed, and Wooyoung had fallen back asleep on the couch. You couldn’t bring yourself to wake him up, so you just left him after making sure that he was completely covered.
Grabbing your phone from the coffee table, you looked at the time and saw that it was a little bit after six. So you stood and made your way back to your room to change, trying to stay as quiet as possible. You were going to run to the store to grab a few groceries as well as a change of clothes for Wooyoung, something that you knew he would wear and that wasn’t already worn by someone else.
–
Wooyoung woke up with a groan, his arm covering his face from the harsh rays of sunlight. After a few moments, he lifted himself up and looked around the living room. Had he fallen asleep in here last night? His eyes then fell on a pile of folded clothes that sat on the table, a piece of paper sitting on top of them.
Reaching over, he grabbed the note, thinking that you had just laid out more of your brother's clothes for him to change into. However, as he read the note, his eyebrow raised.
‘I went to the store this morning and got you something to change into; I wasn’t too sure about your size, so I hope they fit. There’s food in the fridge, and if you need anything, I’ll be in the backyard.’ - y/n
He found it hard to believe that you actually bought him something, but as he grabbed the T-shirt, he found that the tags were still attached, and the only scent he could smell was the faint aroma of the store. His eyes then shifted to the backdoor that he could see through the doorway of the dining room back to the shirt in his hands. He was surprised but grateful nonetheless, so he gathered the clothes before heading back to the guest room to change.
When he was done changing, he went to hunt for you, which wasn’t too hard, seeing as he could hear you humming to yourself through the open window in the kitchen. So he opened the back door and found you sitting on a swinging bench with yet another book in your hands.
At the sound of the door opening, you moved your gaze away from the page you had been reading. A small smile tugged on your lips at the sight of him wearing the clothes you had bought. Closing the book, you sat it to the side and gave him your full attention.
“Do they fit alright?” you asked, and he nodded, his gaze lingering on you for a moment as he noticed the dark bags that had formed under your eyes. You then remembered his bandages and stood to your feet, “Have you changed your bandages yet?”
“No, I was gonna ask you where they were.” He told you that the hairs on the back of his neck stood tall when a gust of wind blew past him, and he shivered. “Why are you out here when it’s this cold?” He wasn’t even sure where the question had come from, but he wanted to know the more the chill settled into his bones, and he started to shiver.
“It’s not that bad as long as the wind isn’t blowing," you explained before grabbing your book. "Now, let's go change your bandages.” You walked back to the door and opened it before walking in, Wooyoung close behind you, ready to get out of the cold.
As you were bandaging his stitches, you started to wonder why he hadn’t left when he looked like he was ready to run out that door any moment yesterday. Unknowingly, Wooyoung was wondering the same thing to himself. He was sure that he would just leave after waking up. Yet he once again found himself being tugged back to you, wanting to stay in your presence. It was annoying as hell.
When you were done, you threw out the old bandages and left everything he needed to change them sitting on the dresser.
“I’ll leave these here for you if you leave, so you have something,” you told him as you made your way to the door. But he quickly caught your wrist in his hand, the skin tingling at the contact. Shocked, you looked back at him with wide eyes, but he kept his gaze averted, his ears folded back.
“Could I stay here?” He hated to ask because the last thing he wanted was to be stuck with a human, but his ‘home’ was merely just an abandoned factory that was on the outskirts of the city that he had made himself comfortable in after escaping the last human he was with.
As if his reaching out to grab you wasn’t shocking enough, his asking to stay here after making it seem like he wanted nothing to do with you shocked you even more. You blinked at him a few times, trying to find the words, but Wooyoung took that as a sign that you didn’t want him there, so he started to let go. At the loss of contact, the shock instantly wore off, and you grabbed his hand, catching him off guard.
“Sorry, I just wasn’t expecting you to ask that, but yes, you’re more than welcome to stay here.” Your words came out rushed, worried that he would try to stop you if you didn’t speak fast enough. Wooyoung looked at you in shock for a moment before his eyes fell to where you were still holding onto his hand, noticing his gaze you quickly let go with an apology, sticking your hands into the pocket of your hoodie. “Uh… I’ll be out back again if you need anything!”
Wooyoung couldn’t help the small smile of amusement that spread on his lips as you tucked tail and rushed out of the room, and he definitely didn’t miss the faint blush on your cheeks. He let out a breath of air before turning and going back to the bed.
Something about you kept pulling him to you, and he wanted to figure out what it was. However, he was also worried that if he opened up too much, it would just be a repeat of last time. So, he decided to keep a good distance between the two of you so he wouldn’t run the chance of trusting another human.
It couldn’t be that hard, right?
The first week that he was there, it was easy to avoid being around you too much unless you were helping him change the bandages on his back. However, the longer he stayed with you, the more that he found himself drawn to you, and it became hard to avoid you.
Even now, as the both of you sat on the couch watching TV, the empty dinner plates were sitting on the coffee table. He sat close to you, wanting to soak in the warmth that you give off, yet he was hesitant about it, but even in the short amount of time you’ve known him you knew what he was wanting. So carefully, you reached over and grabbed his hand in yours, interlocking your fingers together. His breath hitched in his throat as his eyes landed on where your hand sat in his, but you didn’t say a word nor look at him.
As much as he hated it he could feel the walls he had built up around him start to crumble the longer he stayed near you. He didn’t really hate it. He just wasn’t sure if he could trust you.
“We can take your stitches out tomorrow morning.” Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts, and he looked over at you, offering him a small smile. That’s when he noticed that the dark bags under your eyes had gotten worse, and his eyebrows scrunched up, causing you to laugh softly. "What are you looking at? Do I have something on my face?”
“Have you been sleeping?” His question caught your off guard and you looked at him with wide eyes.
Was it really that evident that you haven’t been sleeping well? You were sure that you had managed to cover the eyebags, just maybe not good enough. Letting out a short laugh, you reached up and rubbed the back of your neck as you turned your gaze away from him.
“Is it really that obvious? I’ve always had trouble sleeping, but it's been worse here lately.” You explained to him, releasing his hand, and he watched as you laid it on your lap. He started to worry that it had something to do with him, but you were quick to catch on, looking back over at him with a small smile. “It’s not because of you, it’s just…” A part of you wanted to spill everything to him; something about him just drawing you in like a string that was attached to your soul, but you didn’t want to overstep any lines that would make him uncomfortable.
Against his better judgment, Wooyoung reached over and took your hand back into his, interlocking your fingers together once more. Surprised, you looked down at your intertwined hands before looking up to meet his gaze. Then, despite all of the warning bells that were ringing in his head, he opened his mouth and spoke softly.
“You can tell me.” He reassured you, and you felt your heart leap at the sincerity in his eyes.
“Are you sure? I don’t want to trauma dump.” You tried to laugh it off, but he squeezed your hand, pulling your attention back to him. His gaze alone told you that he wasn’t going to let you go until you talked about it, so you just slunk back into the couch with a sigh. “My parents used to um… hit me to put it lightly back when everything was happening with the hybrids. They would wait until I was asleep in bed to come in and drag me out.” Your voice shook softly as you started to explain, averting your gaze to your and Wooyoung’s interlocked hands, watching his thumb brush the back of your hand. “Even after they finally kicked me out, I would wake up from night terrors. They got better after a while, but sometimes they get bad again, and I just can’t bring myself to sleep. I’m still petrified at the thought of them barging into my room again, so I just stay awake. Better safe than sorry.”
After you finished explaining, Wooyoung just looked at you. Even back then, you would rather take those beatings from your parents than turn against his kind. He started to see you in a new light, and he found himself even more drawn to you.
He squeezed your hand once again, catching your attention. As your eyes met his, you could feel the tears pooling in your eyes. You quickly apologized as they started to fall, turning your head to wipe them away, but he caught your chin and turned you to look back at him. He brushed his thumb over your cheekbone, wiping away the tears before he spoke again.
“As long as I’m here, you don’t have to worry about anyone hurting you like that again.” His eyes scanned your face, and he could tell that you were on the verge of breaking down. He wiped a few more tears away before pulling his hand away and you couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed. “You need to sleep; you look exhausted.”
You let out a small sigh, but you knew he was right. It was only a matter of time before something went wrong if you kept yourself awake any longer. So you made yourself comfortable on the couch, propping your arm up to rest your head on the couch, eyes watching the TV.
Wooyoung watched you for a few more moments before turning to look back at whatever movie was playing on the TV. Before too long, he looked over to find that you were fast asleep. Your lips parted slightly, and he couldn’t help but stare. Until he noticed your eyebrows scrunching together, and you started to mumble something.
Releasing your hand, he did the first thing that came to mind: He wrapped his arm around your body and pulled you into his. As soon as your head met his chest, the soft thumping of his heart was heard under your ear. He watched for a moment as your features relaxed and his body went rigid, his ears standing tall when your arms wrapped around his torso. After a few moments, he relaxed, his arm snug around you as he continued to watch TV.
–
When you woke up, you weren’t sure what time it was. Lifting your head, you wiped the sleep out of your eyes but became acutely aware of the body under yours. Moving slowly so as not to wake the male, you reached for your phone and turned the screen to see the time pop up on the screen.
‘2:19am’
Your eyes widened as you realized just how long you had been asleep and without any nightmares at that. Looking back at Wooyoung, you grimaced at the way his head was cranked backwards. Curling your lips inward, you reached out and shook him softly.
“Wooyoung… hey, wake up, Wooyou–” You gasped when he jolted awake, his hand wrapping around your wrist, his eyes alert, and his ears folded back. However, once he realized it was just you, his ear relaxed, and his grip loosed.
“Sorry,” He apologized before releasing your wrist to rub his eyes. “What time is it?”
“A little after two, you should go to bed; you looked uncomfortable.” You told him, guilt creeping up your spine when you realized that he was like that because you were laying on him.
He looked at you for a moment, then said, “If I’m going to bed, then you should, too.”
You wanted to protest, but the stern gleam in his eyes told you that you weren’t going to win this fight even if you tried. So you nodded before standing and turning the TV off, Wooyoung not too far from you.
When you got to your door, you paused for a second, unsure if you would even be able to sleep again. Noticing your hesitance, Wooyoung stopped turning the door handle to his room to look over at you.
“Are you okay?” You jumped at his voice before looking over your shoulder at him.
“I’ll be fine; I’m just not sure if I’ll be able to sleep again.” You told him honestly, but you waved him off quickly, not wanting to bug him further. "Don’t worry about it. Good night, Wooyoung.”
Before he could utter a word, you disappeared into your room, the door shutting softly behind you. He let out a huff, his tail waving behind him, matching his annoyed state. Walking into his room, he decided that it wasn’t really his place to push you, so he just left it be.
You crawled into your bed after changing into a pair of pajamas, but as soon as you lay down and closed your eyes, flashes of those nights came back, and you quickly opened your eyes. Turning onto your back, you stared at your ceiling for a few moments before trying to sleep once again. However, you kept tossing and turning, either too uncomfortable, or fear etched itself in your head as soon as you were about to fall asleep, waking you right back up. With a huff, you started to give up on the idea of sleeping when you heard a knock at your door, nearly scaring the life out of you.
You slowly climbed out of bed and walked over to the door, opening it just enough to look out. Your eyes widened when you found Wooyoung standing there.
“What are you–”
“I can hear you moving around in the other room; I can’t sleep.” He cut you off, and your face dropped. You hadn’t meant to keep him awake. You started to apologize, but he just shook his head, his ear twitching slightly. “You seemed to sleep better when I was with you on the couch, so…” He really didn’t want to spell it out for you, and thankfully, you caught on to what he was saying.
“You don’t have to, I don’t want to trou–” You couldn’t even finish your sentence before he pushed past you into your room, kicking the door closed behind him and pulling you towards the bed.
“Just be quiet and lay down.” His snarky tone was something that you had grown used to over the past two weeks that he’s been here, so it didn’t bother you. No, what was getting to you was the thought of sleeping in the same bed as him. Hearing the sound of your heart rate pick up, he flicked your forehead, causing you to yelp, “We’re just sleeping. Get your head out of the gutter.”
“I– you–” You stumbled over your words in embarrassment, causing the fox to smirk. Your face was a bright shade of pink, and you thanked the heavens that it was dark so he couldn’t see it; at least, you hoped he didn’t. With a pout, you turned, walked over to the other side of the bed, and laid down, your back facing him.
Laughing softly, he took the empty space next to you, pulling the blankets over his body. The room then fell silent as you both laid there, you could already start to feel yourself drift off. Then before too long you had fallen asleep just as Wooyoung thought you would, he then laid his head back down and started to drift off. However, he was jolted from his slumber when you suddenly turned and moved closer to him, your hand brushed against his side as you moved. He stayed still for a moment until you practically curled yourself against his side before he let out a sigh and went to sleep.
–
The next morning you woke up before Wooyoung, a yawn escaping your lips as you went to sit up only to find Wooyoung’s arm draped over your body. Heat crept up your neck as you realized just how close the two of you were, his soft snores filling your ears.
Carefully untangling your body from his, you climbed out of the bed and grabbed a change of clothes before heading to the bathroom attached to your bedroom. Shutting the door behind you, you walked over to the sink and looked at yourself in the mirror.
“Snap out of it, y/n; he’s just trying to help because you’re bothering him. Don’t let it go to your head.” You sighed, turning on the tap to splash cool water over your face.
“You’re not bothering me.” You jumped at the sound of his voice, a small yelp falling from your lips as you looked up, seeing him in the reflection of the mirror.
“When did you…?” You turned to look at him with wide eyes; you hadn’t even heard the door open.
Wooyoung didn’t say a word as he stalked closer to you and you tried to back away only to be met with the counter. He then trapped your body between his and the countertop, leaning down until his warm breath washed over your face.
Your eyes flickered from his eyes to his lips that were merely inches away from your own and you swallowed thickly. Wooyoung wasn’t sure what had washed over him or if it was just that his rut was coming up, but that pull he felt towards you was stronger than ever this morning.
His hand then found your waist, pulling you against him, causing a soft gasp to fall from your lips. His head then dipped down, lips brushing against your ear as he spoke, “I can hear your heart hammering in your chest, sweetheart.”
“Wooyoung…” You breathed out, your hand pressing against his chest, and you could feel his own heartbeat against your palm.
The fox hummed as he moved away from your ear to look at you, his tail brushing against your bare thigh. His gaze was intense as he stared down at you, his grip on your hip tightening. You wanted to push him away, but you couldn’t, and neither could Wooyoung as he finally captured your lips with his. Your breath hitched in your throat at the feeling of his plush lips against yours.
Any hesitance you felt moments before flew out the window as you melted against him, returning his eager kiss. Your arms snaked around his neck as he deepened the kiss, his tongue swiping across your bottom lip. You didn’t give him much of a fight as you parted your lips, allowing him to slip his tongue into your mouth. A soft moan fell from your lips when he gently bit down on your bottom lip, and Wooyoung could feel his pants grow tighter.
His kisses grew hungrier as his hands started to roam your body, fingers slipping underneath your shirt. Your brain started to go foggy as his lips trailed from yours down your jaw before finding purchase on the sensitive skin of your neck.
“W-Wooyoung.” You choked out as he started to leave hot, wet, open-mouthed kisses along your neck, nipping every now and then, causing your body to shiver. His eager hands found the back of your thigh, hoisting you onto the counter, eliciting a small yelp from you.
“You smell so good.” He groaned against your skin before his hands slipped under your shirt, squeezing at the skin. “Fuck I need you, baby, so bad.”
You moaned softly at his words, your hands gripping his shoulders, “We can’t… your stitches.” You told him, trying your best not to lose yourself in the feeling of his hands on your skin and his teeth grazing your neck.
“It’s fine, they’re coming out today. You said so yourself.” He told you, pulling away from your neck to look at you. The dark lust that pooled in his eyes made your arousal grow tenfold, and you could feel your panties growing wetter.
His fingertips then brushed the underside of your breast, and his eye flickered down to your shirt at the realization that you hadn’t been wearing a bra. With quick movements, he pulled the shirt over your head, discarding it somewhere on the floor. His eyes then fell on your bare breast, drinking in the sight with his eyes.
You felt so exposed under his intense gaze, goosebumps littering your skin before you started to cover yourself. However, he was quicker, grabbing your wrist and pulling you into another bruising kiss. A muffled mewl left your mouth when he cupped your breast in his hand, squeezing the soft fat.
“Don’t hide from me. You’re too pretty to hide.” His voice was hoarse as he pulled away from you; his head then dipped down. His lips latched onto the skin right above your breast, and you could feel your sanity slowly slipping away from you.
Your nails dug into his shoulder as he pressed his hips against yours, allowing you to feel how hard he was against your clothed cunt. A gasp fell from your swollen lips when he latched onto one of your nipples, teeth nipping at the sensitive bud.
“B-Bed.” You gasped out when his hand traveled down your stomach to your clothed heat.
Wooyoung let out a low growl, not wanting to waste time, but he detached himself from your breast nonetheless before picking you up. A small yelp fell from your lips as your arms wrapped your arms around his neck.
Walking back into the bedroom, he dropped you onto the bed, a small huff leaving your lips as you fell. Wooyoung didn’t leave you alone for too long, though, quickly discarding his shirt before crawling over you, his lips finding yours once more.
His hands then found the hem of your sleep shorts, fingers wrapping around the waistband, but he stopped and pulled away from your lips.
“Can I?” He asked despite the overpowering need to have you fully, not wanting to push any boundaries there may be. Your eyes fluttered open to look up at him, arms wrapping around his neck and pulling him back down to you.
“Please,” You spoke softly, pressing a kiss on the corner of his lips, and that was all he needed before he hastily pulled off both your shorts and underwear. The way his eyes were devouring you had you pooling even more, your thighs rubbing together to try and alleviate some of the pressure.
Wooyoung’s head dipped down to your neck once more, nipping at the skin softly as his hand traveled down your body. He pulled your thighs apart before his fingers met with your soaping core, and he groaned against you.
“Fuck I could smell how wet you were, but I wasn’t expecting you to be this wet babydoll.” He groaned against your skin as the pad of his middle finger found your throbbing clit. The sinful sound that left your lips nearly made him lose all sense of control, and he tried his best not to bite down on your collarbone.
“W-Woo–” You were cut off by a moan when he slipped a finger into your tight walls.
“Shit baby, you’re so tight,” He chuckled darkly as your eyes rolled slightly when he curled his fingers after adding a second finger. There was no way he was going to be able to hold off for much longer before he lost it, so he sped up his pace, his thumb pressing harsh circles on your clit.
“F-fuck!” You cried out, back arching off of the bed and against him. Your mind was starting to shortcircuit when he brushed over your sweet spot, and a broken whine fell from your lips.
Wooyoung leaned up latching his lips on yours once more, stealing the air right out of your lungs. Your hand wrapped around the back of his neck, holding him close to you as you felt your orgasm creeping up on you. He bit at your lower lip, enough to draw blood before he started to suck on it; the mixture of pain and pleasure sent you toppling over the edge.
“Wooyoung!” You cried out as he continued to fuck his fingers into you, prolonging your orgasm for a few moments before finally pulling them out of your twitching cunt.
You watched with hooded eyes as he stuck his fingers in his mouth, licking your essence off of his digits. The sight was enough to make your need grow all over again, especially with the way his eyes bore into you. Once he was sure he had licked every last drop of your sweet nectar off of his fingers, he leaned back down over you, pressing his lips against yours again. You mewled at the taste of yourself on his tongue mixed with the tangy, metallic taste of your blood from your lip.
“Next time, I’ll have you cumming on my tongue.” He growled against your lips, and you were sure your brain was turning to putty at the thought of him between your thighs, lapping at your cunt like it was his favorite meal in the world. “But for right now… I need to be in you.”
He moved back far enough to pull the string of his sweats loose and pushed them down his legs. Your eyes grew wide at the sight of his cock, the tip already glistening with pre-cum. He was big, way bigger than anyone you had ever been with before, but for granted, you’ve never slept with a hybrid. You then started to wonder whether or not it would fit, swallowing nervously.
Sensing your unease, Wooyoung crawled back over your body, drawing your attention back to his face. He pressed a soft kiss on your forehead before whispering, “Don’t worry, I’ve got you, baby, I promise.”
You gazed into his eyes for a moment before nodding softly, licking your lips, “o-okay, I trust you.”
Wooyoung smiled softly before pulling you into another kiss as he grabbed himself at the base, teasing your folds with his tip. You let out soft gasps every time he bumped against your clit that slowly turned into needy whines the more he continued to tease you. Tears from the overwhelming need started to brim in your eyes, and the dark-haired male could have sworn he’d bust right then and there.
“P-please, Woo… I need you, please.” You whined as your fingers tangled in his hair at the nape of his neck, tugging gently.
“Alright, my needy baby.” He cooed before lining his tip with your entrance and slowly pushed into you.
The stretch was like nothing you’ve ever felt before, and your eyes nearly rolled to the back of your head as he continued to fill you. “Ah, focus on me, love,” Wooyoung whispered softly, coaxing your eyes open, and you looked at him as tears started to spill from the corner of your eyes. “Good girl.”
You moan at the praise, his length still pushing you until he finally buried himself to the hilt. Your lips formed an ‘o’ shape from the feeling of being stuffed full. Wooyoung groaned as his face fell to the crook of your neck; you were squeezing him so tightly that if he were to move right now, he’d cum.
“W-Woo…” You gasped as he unintentionally rolled his hips against yours. He quickly apologized before stilling his hips, his hand finding yours to interlock his fingers with yours.
Your shallow breaths fanned against his ear as he pressed kisses along your chest, and he groaned at the feeling. Even through your foggy haze, you could notice the effect it had on him. Your free hand moved to the top of his head, your fingers brushing against his ear, and his whole body jolted.
“Fuck baby, don’t do that.” He groaned, moving his head up to look at you and you just looked at him with doe eyes, a small smile tugging on the corner of your lips. You reached up to touch his ear once more but he caught your wrist, a small growl reverberating from his chest. The sound went right to your pussy causing you to clench around him. “I’m trying so hard to not lose control babydoll, don’t make this any harder than it needs to be.”
A choked moan tore from your lips when he rolled his hips into yours, pleasure washing over you in waves as he hit all the right spots in one single stroke. Wooyoung released your wrist and hand to grab your hips when you gave him the green light to move.
Stars danced across your vision as he pulled out before snapping his hips right back into yours. Your fingers dug into the sheets from the overwhelming pleasure.
“Fuck look at you.” He groaned as he continued his rough pace; it was almost animalistic if you will. His eyes then fell down to where his cock disappeared into your soaping cunt, and he felt himself grow harder at the sight of the small bulge that formed in your lower tummy every time he pushed into you.
“Shit, Woo– fuck!” You cried out as he pushed down on your stomach, making you feel him even more as he fucked into you. Tears spilled from your eyes now as your whole body felt as if it were on fire, your legs trembling around Wooyoung’s waist.
“Are you gonna cum baby?” He cooed down at you as he leaned down, pressing his lips against yours, stealing the air from your lungs once more as his tip kissed your cervix at this angle. A loud pornographic moan tore from your lips when one of his hands slid between your bodies, pressing against your clit. “Cum for me, babydoll, please.” He pleaded like he was the one more desperate for your orgasm, but with a few more strokes, you felt that coil in the pit of your stomach snap, and your release gushed out all over his length.
A mixture of his name and broken moans fell from your lips as he continued his fast pace, never slowing down and throwing your body into overstimulation. Your eyes squeezed shut at the overwhelming feeling, pushing more tears out, but Wooyoung was quick to kiss them away.
“Just a little bit more; you can do that for me, can’t you, sweetheart?” He whispered into your ear before leaving a flurry of kisses along your skin. His tail brushed along your leg, the feeling of the soft fur sending a shiver down your spine. “‘M gonna fill you up so good, baby. Gonna get you pregnant with my kits; you would like that, wouldn’t you, my love?”
You mewled at his words, your mind too far gone to truly understand what he was saying to you. Your fingers then found their way back into his hair, your fingertip brushing against his ear, and his whole body shuddered.
“Please Woo– I can’t–” You whined as your hips rolled to meet with his thrusts. Every nerve ending in your body felt like it was on fire.
“Shit.” He groaned as he felt his high nearing, and his hips snapped wildly into yours, making your vision turn white, nails digging into his neck. A mixture of a groan and a whimper fell from his lips as he completely buried himself to the hit once more as he came.
“W-Woo!” You cried out when you felt something stretching you even more, and it sent your third orgasm washing over you. Wooyoung buried his face in your neck as you milked his cock for all it was worth.
Once your orgasm subsided, you opened your eyes, blinking away some of the tears before looking over at Wooyoung as he pulled his head out of your neck.
“What is that?” Your voice shook slightly and the fox male just smirked down at you before pressing a gentle kiss on your lips.
“It’s a knot, sweetheart. It’ll go down in a bit, but for now, try not to move too much.” He explained to you, and you let out a huff, and your head fell back, but you were sitting there for too long until Wooyoung flipped the both of you and pulled you on top of his chest. “You’ll probably be more comfortable like this.”
You let out a soft laugh before tilting your head to look up at him. "You better hope your stitches didn’t bust.” You huffed before laying your head back down on his chest as he chuckled. He ran his fingers through your hair before gently squeezing the back of your neck. Before too long, both of you had fallen asleep once more.
–
A few hours later, you were in the kitchen with Wooyoung, sitting on the barstool as you took out his stitches. He hadn’t even bothered to put a shirt on after the both of you woke up, seeing that it would be pointless.
“See, I told you they’d be fine.” He teased you as you removed the last stitch from his abdomen, and you glared up at him before raising back up.
“Yeah, and it's probably thanks to your enhanced healing.” You rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged on the corner of your lips when he wrapped his hands around the back of your thighs, pulling you closer to him. “Woo, I need to get the stitches in your back.” You went to pull away, not missing the pout that formed on his lips or how his ears drooped.
The room then fell silent. The only sound was your soft humming as you worked on removing the stitch from his back. Once they were out, you couldn’t help but brush over the scars, and this time, Wooyoung didn’t growl or even move away; he just let you do as you please.
“They’re from the last human I was with.” His voice startled you, and you looked up, but he didn’t turn his head to look at you. You laid your palm flat against his back as you listened to what he was telling you. “She was the first human that I thought I could actually trust. She treated me with so much kindness and lured me in with false promises. Then, when she had me in her grasp, that nice facade faded, and her true colors showed through.” You could hear the slight tremble in his voice as he explained, your heart aching at the thought of the betrayal he must have felt. “She was… evil, and that’s putting it lightly. Even an inch out of line, and she’d have that damn whip in her hand.” He growled lowly as he recalled all of the painful nights he had to endure in the cold cage that she would keep him in.
You stepped closer to him, your arm wrapping around his chest, and he leaned back into you. He let out a content sigh when you ran your fingers through his hair, smoothing the scruff on his ears.
“I’m sorry you had to go through all of that, but I promise that you will never have to go through that again, "you promised as you leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss on his temple. He hummed softly, soaking in your warmth because, for once, he actually believed your words.
You both stood there in silence, enjoying each other’s company. That was until the sounds of loud engines interrupted you. Both of you froze, unsure what that sound was. Quickly pulling yourself away from him, you walked with a light step towards the front of the house, peeking out of the front window. What you saw made your heart jump in your throat.
“Shit!” You cursed lowly as you turned back to the dark-haired male who had just walked into the living room.
“What is–”
“Wooyoung, listen to me; in the closet in the guest room, there’s a crawl space. I need you to go and hide in there, NOW!” You rushed, pushing him in the direction of the room, but he fought against you. “Dammit, Woo, go! It’s the hunters, so please go and hide, and for the love of god, do NOT come out no matter what you hear.” You pushed him towards the room once more, and Wooyoung’s heart dropped at the thought of the hunters being here again.
Reluctantly, he did as he was told, rushing into the guest room and shutting the door behind him. Opening the closet door and looking up, he found the crawl space you were talking about. Looking around, he found a bucket and quickly turned it over so he could use it as a step stool.
With a few pushes, the piece of the ceiling gave way, and he quickly pulled himself up, kicking the bucket away in the process. Once he was inside, he replaced the panel before sitting there, trying to calm his racing heart.
His ears twitched as he picked up on the sound of voices from the other room, and he prayed to god that you would be okay and the hunters would just leave when they couldn’t find what they were looking for.
The hunters had practically busted their way into the cabin and you prayed the Wooyoung made it to the crawl space in time. You jumped when the door collided with the wall roughly, and the group of three men, all wearing the same insignia, walked in.
“You can’t just barge in here.” You stood your ground, glaring at them, but they just looked at you, and the front guy smirked.
“Well, if it isn't the pretty lady from the woods.” He stepped towards you, but you quickly took a step back, keeping a good space between you. “We got word that the fox hybrid was seen in this area.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about; there hasn’t been anyone but me out here.” You stated, heart hammering against your ribs as he signaled for his men to start searching, “hey you can’t just–”
In the next second, your body hit the ground, pain burning on your cheek, and tears stung in your eyes. Looking up, you glared at the man, holding your face.
“See, we would believe that if our sources hadn’t said they saw him right here with you.” He then crouched down in front of you, grabbing a fistful of your hair and yanking your head back, causing a pained cry to leave your lips. “So if you wanna live to see the light of another day, you better start telling the truth.”
Your hands balled into fists as you spit at him, “There is no one but me here, douchebag.”
Another cry of pain fell from your lips when he backhanded you, the metal of his ring busting your lip. Tears welled in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall as you met the man’s gaze once more. Your eyes narrowed into slits as he leaned towards you.
“You’re quite feisty; I wouldn’t mind keeping you.” He reached toward you, but you quickly knocked his hand away in disgust.
“Don’t fucking touch me.” You growled, heart beating frantically the longer the other two men were out of sight. You prayed that they were dumb enough to just look in the obvious places and not give the crawl space a second thought.
Wooyoung could hear the commotion in the living room, but as soon as he heard the pained cry fall from your lips, he wanted to give up his spot so he could make sure you were okay. However, he knew that he would only end up hurting you more, so he gritted his teeth and tried to ignore the shuffling from underneath him.
Eventually, it stopped, and the footsteps retreated back towards the living room.
“We couldn’t find anything, boss.” Both men walked back into the room, and you had to fight the urge to let out a relieved sigh.
“Fucking hell.” The man in front of you growled before standing to his feet and looking down at you with a faux smile, “Sorry about the commotion, ma’am.”
You couldn’t help but scoff as they walked out of the house, slamming the door shut in the process. You didn’t dare move until you heard the sound of their engines fade off into the distance.
“Y/n!” Wooyoung called out as he got out of the crawl space, saw the mess the hunters had left, and quickly made a beeline to the living room.
You were just getting back onto your feet when he rounded the corner, and he felt his shoulders relax when he saw that you were okay. That was until you turned to face him, and he saw the blood dripping down your chin from the cut on your lip. And his vision turned red.
“Wooyoung, wait!” you called out to him as he made a beeline for the door, quickly grabbing his arm. “Wooyoung, stop; you can’t go after them!" you exclaimed as you tugged him back until he turned to look at you.
“Look at what they did to you; they need to pay.” He growled as he cupped your face in his hands, his thumb gently swiping over the cut, causing you to hiss.
“I’m fine, but you can’t go after them. You alone are no match for all of them.” You explained, and he let out a defeated sigh, knowing that you were right.
He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss on your forehead before pulling away and grabbing your hand. "Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.” He then dragged you to the kitchen, sitting you on the same stool that he had been in just a while ago, the first aid kit in his hands.
You watched him endearingly as he cleaned up the blood from your busted lip before putting a plaster over the cut. After he was done, he wrapped his arms around your smaller frame, pulled you into his chest, and you instantly wrapped your arms around his torso.
“They shouldn’t bother us again, at least not for a long time, if they don’t want to get in trouble for harassing a human.” You told him as you rested your chin on his chest, staring up at him. He looked down at you, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone.
“That's good because I can’t promise I’ll just sit idly by if they show up again.” He growled, and you knew he wasn’t joking, so you hoped they wouldn’t show their faces again.
You sat in his hold for a few more moments before pulling away and offering him a small smile "Why don’t you go get cleaned up, and I’ll make lunch?”
Wooyoung couldn’t help but smile, but he also wasn’t quick to leave your side just yet, so he refused, staying with you in the kitchen while you cooked. His playful remarks and teasing nature almost made everything feel normal once again.
But nothing fully dissipated until you were curled up on the couch with Wooyoung, watching some random movie while the both of you ate, enjoying each other’s company.
In the weeks after, there were no signs of those hunters, and you couldn’t be happier. You and Wooyoung were more than content with each other's company, even if his cockiness and teasing drove you to your wit's end.
The both of you were happy, and that was more than enough for you.
